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yunopouts · 7 months

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scream - l. jeno

-> lee jeno x fem reader

-> frat! au, pure smut (jeno lee is one nasty mother fucker in this one y'all)

-> CW: dom! jeno, rough sex(??), choking, edging, a small... TINY (VERY TINY) bit of ass play, protected sex, handjob, overuse of the word fuck, overstim, head god jeno, fingering, spitting, squirting, slight praise, lots of crying (reader), dumbification, marking/biting, scratching, blood, nipple play, gagging, bdj (big dick jeno LMFAOO)

-> a/n: this is my apology for going on such a long break T-T, i'm telling you i didn't even realise it went on for that long. i was checking in every now and then but i feel so bad T-T anyways! I'm back :P this one doesn't have THAT much dialogue, so i hope you guys enjoy the gory details 😁 also i think this is the filthiest, most smutty, smut i've ever fucking written, and i've written a lot... trust me on this.

-> upcoming: dilf! jaehyun next week and maybe another halloween special idk. oh btw, everything has some sort of halloween aspect to it :)) psst! requests are open!!

-> word count: 4.2k!

-> also p.s: idk how to explain the way he's acting in this fic... he's like very sweet and cute when he's kissing, but he's being a bitch when he's fucking and being rough... idk, i hope you understand what I mean. but also, as rough as he maybe, he's very touchy-feely and kissy :D ANYWHO! I present to you, six pages of pure filth!

safe! master list

mature! masterlist

“When you said we’re going to a party, I didn’t know it was a frat party.” Minjeong said as the three of you walked through the door. The house reeked of weed and sweat, all the criteria for a proper frat party, except everyone is in a Halloween costume.

“Girl, where else would the party have been?” Jimin scoffed lightly. She paused in the doorway, looking down at her phone before she sighed. “Apparently Sungchan’s waiting for me in the living room, I’ll see you two later?” Both you and Minjeong nodded, wishing the girl goodbye and watched as she walked away in her cheerleader costume.

Turning to each other, you silently agreed that the first thing you needed was a drink, so you headed off to the kitchen.

“I forgot to tell you how hot you look in that outfit.” She said in your ear, loud enough for you to hear over the music, and you gave her a smile while you poured yourself a drink.

“So do you,” you whistled as you looked her up and down, the way the gross boys in movies do when they spot a hot girl.

Together, you looked like an odd pair, seeing as you were dressed up as Jennifer, from Jennifer’s Body, and Minjeong was Little Red Riding Hood. The music thumped through the air as the two of you stood in the crowded kitchen, surrounded by costumed partygoers. The laughter and chatter blended with the bass, creating a symphony of Halloween revelry. Your playful compliment still lingered in the atmosphere, adding a touch of warmth to the otherwise chilly, dimly lit room. You took a sip from your drink, the alcohol burning your throat, but your attention was momentarily drawn away from the sensation by something else. From across the room, you spotted a familiar figure, the ever so iconic Ghost Face mask, in the back corner, talking to a boy dressed up as a mummy.

The menacing presence seemed to defy the festive atmosphere, and your eyes were drawn to it as if by some magnetic force. The Ghost Face mask turned slowly in your direction, and even though you couldn't see their face, you felt a shiver race down your spine. It was as though an invisible connection had formed between you and the enigmatic figure, a connection that transcended the costume and the anonymity it provided. There was something magnetic about their presence, something that sparked a potent and unspoken attraction.

For a brief, electrifying moment, your eyes met those hidden behind the Ghost Face mask. Time seemed to stand still as you locked onto each other, and a subtle, unspoken acknowledgment passed between you, like a silent agreement in the midst of the raucous party. Your heart quickened, and the room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in that charged moment.

Feeling a surge of heat and anticipation, you reluctantly tore your gaze away from the enigmatic figure and turned back to Minjeong, who had been watching the silent exchange with keen interest. She met your eyes, and the shared understanding between you two was palpable. “You saw him too, didn’t you.” Minjeong said in a way that had her sounding winded. With a knowing smile and another sip of your drink, you and Minjeong silently toasted to the unspoken intrigue that had captured your attention.

As the night continued, the magnetic pull you felt towards the Ghost Face figure in the corner didn't wane. It was like an invisible thread connected the two of you, and despite the ongoing revelry, your attention kept drifting back to that mysterious presence.

Minjeong, ever perceptive, nudged you and raised an eyebrow as if to say, "Why not go for it?" Encouraged by her silent urging, you decided to take the initiative. Setting down your drink, you nodded toward the Ghost Face figure, indicating your intention to approach.

Minjeong gave you an encouraging thumbs-up before disappearing into the crowd, leaving you to navigate the sea of Halloween costumes on your own. You weaved through the dancing crowd, anticipation growing with each step.

As you approached, the mask-wearing figure seemed to sense your approach and turned slightly in your direction. They leaned against the counter with their arms crossed over their chest, waiting for you to arrive. The closer you got, the more you could feel the intensity of the connection between the two of you.

Finally standing face to face, the silence was almost deafening. The mask stared at you, unmoving, but you could sense a palpable tension beneath it. Without exchanging words, you both seemed to understand that this moment was special, a secret shared between you in the midst of chaos.

Slowly, your hand extended, and you reached for the Ghost Face mask. Your fingertips brushed against it, and you felt a rapid heartbeat beneath your touch. The mask gave the slightest nod, and you grasped it, carefully pulling it up.

Beneath the mask, a pair of intense, dark eyes met yours. You were momentarily lost in their depth, captivated by the enigmatic stranger who had held your attention all night. The corners of your lips curved into a small, knowing smile, and a spark of recognition flared in those deep, mysterious eyes.

The unspoken tension that had been simmering between you erupted in a whirlwind of excitement. It was a dance of anticipation and curiosity, an unspoken agreement that you had both been waiting for this moment. And even though the music continued to thump, and the crowd continued to revel, for that brief, electric moment, it was just the two of you, locked in a silent, thrilling connection.

You told him your name when he asked for it, and he introduced himself as ‘Jeno’.

“You wanna take this upstairs?” he asked with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You sucked in a breath and nodded before he pulled the mask back down and took your hand in his to lead the way through the crowd.

The staircase was crowded with a few people, Minjeong included. You spotted her talking to a girl in fairy costume and when you caught her eye, she gave you a grin, wider than you’ve ever seen.

Every now and then, Jeno’s leather gloved hand would lightly squeeze yours as you climbed up the stairs. You held on a little tighter each time, but before you knew it, you were standing in front of a room with a big ‘JN’ poster hanging in the middle.

The boy opened the door for you and let you enter first before entering himself. The door clicked shut behind you as you sat down on the bed, your eyes locked on Jeno's every move. With a seductive confidence, he slowly peeled off the Ghost Face mask, revealing a mischievous smirk that sent a shiver down your spine.

As he stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours, you sucked in a breath in response to the sensual tension that crackled between you. His gloved hands, still gripping the mask, dropped to his sides, and he advanced with a slow, deliberate purpose. The room was drowning in desire, and you couldn't tear your gaze away from him.

Jeno moved in until he was standing directly in front of you. His presence was magnetic, and you found yourself unable to resist as he placed a hand on your cheek, his thumb gently caressing your skin. The touch was electrifying, and you leaned into it, your eyes closing as you savored the sensation. You reached up slowly and pulled his hands away, suddenly regretting it, but you went on with pulling the leather gloves off, exposing a set of large, veiny hands.

Kicking off your shoes, you moved to the top of his bed and watched as he concentrated on your every move with dark eyes. In a flash, Jeno had pulled off the cloak, leaving his chest exposed and him only in his jeans. It felt like you were freezing without his touch on you, but soon enough, he was in front of you, inspecting your face before his eyes ultimately landed on your lips that were stained red from makeup.

His lips rushed to meet yours in a tantalising kiss, a soft exploration that soon deepened into a passionate melding of mouths. The taste of him was intoxicating, and your tongues danced in a heated rhythm, exchanging breathless sighs and moans. Every kiss, every brush of his lips against yours, sent a rush of heat through your body. It was amazing.

His hands travelled from your face, down to your waist and they pulled you to meet his body. Jeno groaned into the kiss from all the friction caused by his chest rubbing against your sweater, making his nipples hard and sensitive.

While your arms wrap around his neck, Jeno’s hips dig into yours, creating a tent in his pants. It’s hard and uncomfortable but the pressure it’s putting on your cunt is to die for, so you grind… hard. Jeno moans your name while his hands tug at your jeans so aggressively you thought he would tear them if he continued. After blindly messing around with your pants, Jeno popped the button open and pulled down your jeans, exposing the lacy underwear you had on.

You whined as he pulled away from your lips but you shut up quicker than ever when you noticed how he was staring at your pussy. He looked hungry.

He looked like he was starving.

And starving, he was.

Jeno practically tore off your panties, tossing them somewhere behind him, before he dove into you. His tongue pressed flat against your pussy, licking a stripe up, the muscle’s warmth and making you moan softly. His nose poked at your clit as his tongue toyed with your hole. He lapped at your folds, making sure no spot was left untouched by his tongue. Jeno loved the way you tasted; you had the best pussy he’s ever eaten, he felt like he could spend all day eating you out, and he’d never get tired of it.

Jeno pulled away for a second to put his middle finger in his mouth, coating it in saliva before pressing it to your entrance. A hum escaped your lips as his thick digit slowly pulsed in and out of you as your hands worked to take off your sweater and shirt. Soon, one finger became two, and Jeno went back to eating you out. Your moans were driving him crazy; they were making it hard focus on your clit because his cock was so fucking hard. The hand he had pressed on your lower abdomen moved down to his button, undoing it and moving the zipper down far enough for him to get his dick out.

As he rubbed his cock, Jeno’s teeth grazed your clit before his lips latched on to it, sucking forcefully. With that, it didn’t take long for that feeling to start to form. As your moans quickened, the pace of Jeno’s fingers grew faster, and he sucked harder on your clit– if it were even possible. He loved the way you were tightening around his fingers, like you were trying to keep them inside you, wanting them absorb your juices.

“Fuck, Jeno…” you gasped, fingers tugging at his dark, messy hair. “God, I’m so close.”

Your eyes squeezed shut right as you were about to cum, but you never did. You felt so high, but now you dropped back down to zero, and you were empty and cold. Opening your eyes, you saw Jeno looking down at you with a smug expression. He leaned down and kissed you softly, which allowed you to taste yourself off his tongue, the somewhat sweet taste filling your mouth.

Reaching down, you felt for his cock, and began stroking when you found it. He was girthier than other guys you’ve had sex with, and he had a slight curve upwards, but my god was he long. You didn’t know if he would fit, but there was nothing you wouldn’t try.

Jeno moaned as he kissed you, the feeling of your warm hands rubbing him up and down forced him to thrust at the pace you were moving at. He pulled back from your lips to drop his head into the crook of your neck, marking and panting against the soft skin. Behind the shell of your ear, he wet a small spot with saliva before he kissed it softly, and he did the same to a few other spots. He sucked on your skin until it bruised while he moved down to the curve of your neck. Jeno’s hot tongue laid against your skin once again before he closed his teeth around it.

You jerked his cock harder as the boy continued to bite into different spots until his husky voice whispered a demand.

“Stop.” Jeno told you.

You did as you were told, but you kept your fingers trailing up and down his shaft as he kissed back up your neck, to your lips.

“Gimme two seconds.” he said against your lips with a smile. You kissed him quickly before he got up, which made him chuckle.

You watched as he got up, cock out and everything, which made you smile a bit. Jeno slid off his remaining clothes and tossed them in what presumed to be a laundry bin, and opened a drawer of his dresser, only to pull out something wrapped in a gold foil.

Oh…

Not one;

Not two;

Or three;

But six.

Jeno pulled out a strand of six condoms before he turned back to you. “Just in case.” he smiled innocently, even though he absolutely was not. He tore one from the line and ripped the top off with his teeth before he handed you the open package.

“Only six?” you asked in attempt to make a joke out of the pain you’re going to be in tomorrow.

Jeno chuckled as he shrugged while you took the condom and rolled it on to his cock. “We can use the whole pack if you want, it’s new.”

And that was that, seeing as Jeno grabbed your face and kissed you passionately. His tongue eagerly explored your mouth once again, grazing your own tongue and cheeks before he pulled away. A string of your mixed saliva hung like a teather from your mouth to his.

“Turn over for me, won’t you?” you nodded in a daze and turned so that your face was in the pillows. “Good girl,” he said, his cool hands grazing down your back, sliding all the way down to your ass. He spread your cheeks far enough apart to see everything, and you swore you heard evil laughter coming from somewhere.

What you thought was going to come, did not, in fact, come. Instead, you were surprised to feel a warm glob of spit fall on to your ass and how it trailed down to your pussy. Jeno leaned down and licked one long stripe, starting from your clit and ending at your ass. His tongue poked into your hole, once again, but this time he scisored in and out, the same way he used his fingers earlier. His tongue was warm and soft inside you, but that feeling didn’t last very long.

Jeno pulled his tongue out, subbing it out for his fingers, but instead, he used his tongue on your ass, sending shivers down your spine. He licked at the puckered hole, warming it up a bit as he fucked your pussy with his fingers.

“You doing okay?” he asked, but you were only able to moan out your response. His fingers fucked you faster, his thumb was ruining your clit with friction, your ass was slick with his spit. Everything was happening just as it needed to be for you to cum. “Oh fuck, Jeno, I’m gonna cum.” And this time you did. Jeno’s fingers curled inside you as they fucked you through your orgasm. Your body shook, your pussy was covered in spit and cum. Jeno’s fingers were coated in a mixture of his and your fluids, and he sucked it off like he was eating icing from a cake.

You felt hot and sticky; he hadn’t even fucked you with his cock yet and yet that was the best orgasm you’d ever fucking felt. “Jen… Jeno, I need you.”

The desparity in your voice sent Jeno spiraling and in no time, the fingers in your pussy were gone and his cock was poking at your enterance. He spit into his hand and coated his covered cock in it, even though he doubted he needed it, considering the fact that you were so wet you could drip on to his bed.

With a slow push, Jeno’s cock entered you, but refrained from moving after hearing you gasp. You knew he was going to be big, but you didn’t know he would be that big. He was a length you’d never taken before, so it took you a few minutes to adjust to his size, but soon enough you were able to build up to a medium pace.

Jeno’s hands snuck up your back to undo the clasp of your bra, exposing your breasts. Jeno firmly gripped your ass, with his thumb prodding at your assshole. You hummed with pleasure as the thick digit dipped into you slightly. With that, along with the pounding from his cock, you were basically in heaven.

“Faster,” you gasped, finally feeling only pleasure as he fucks into you.

Pulling you up by the shoulder, your bra slipped off in an instant, which let Jeno get a proper view of your tits, plump and beautiful. He watched how they jiggled with each thrust, and he grew more and more fond of them. Jeno even switched his grip on you from your shoulder to your neck. His hand gripped you around the base of your throat, just tight enough for there to be a handprint later. Meanwhile, the other snaked down to your pussy, where he drew fast circles on your clit. Jeno’s cock was deep inside your cunt, it filled you to the brim and you were loving every minute of it.

And so was he. The sound of skin slapping on skin, how your pussy fit his cock like a glove, how you moaned his name like you knew it well, how your back was practically glued to his chest. That made him go crazy; that made him fuck you even harder– a more vigurous pace that felt so good it brought you to tears.

Jeno got a hold of one of your nipples, it was hard and practically begging for it to be twisted. You moaned at the feeling and begged for more through your tears, so Jeno’s arms crossed over your stomach, his hands reaching up to play with your nipples some more. He pulled at them until they slipped from his grip, he squeezed them until you begged for mercy. When he shoved two fingers in your mouth, you gagged and yet you could still go further. Jeno pulled his fingers out and covered your tits in your spit.

It didn’t take long for his hips to pick up the pace once he that he was about to cum. Your moans grew choppier and choppier as his thrusts became more sharp.

“Shit, baby.” he groaned, his teeth biting down on your ear loab as he came. Your breaths were ragged in the moments of his orgasm, but you could feel his cock twitch inside you, even with the condom. Your body couldn’t keep up with the speed he was going at and soon enough you were shaking in his arms for a second time, cumming with him.

When Jeno pulled out, your head lolled backwards and you eyed him with a smile. Jeno kissed your temple and whispered his next words into your skin.

“On to the second condom, then?” You each laughed at his comment and Jeno wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you tightly as he shook with laughter.

The boy helped you off of him before getting off the bed again to switch condoms. The exchange was quick and before you knew it, Jeno was hovering above of you once more, staring down at you like you were his prey. This predatory look formed a pit in your stomach, but the good kind.

Jeno’s eyes scanned you from head to toe.

Your body glistened with sweat, collarbones and throat covered with markings of all kinds, your nipples were puffy and wet, and your pussy was swollen and slick with juices. Everything looked delectable; you looked delectable and he was so tempted to consume it all.

The boy picked up one of your legs and propped it over his shoulder and placed his tip at your entrance. He bottomed out smoothly, and this time you seemed to be able to handle his length much better. Your head sunk into the pillows as you let out a sigh.

You watched how Jeno’s eyes closed when he felt your cunt wrap around him with his head falling back with pleasure. “Feels so good.” he groaned into the air, his jaw hanging open slightly as he continued to thrust. His head turned to the side and he brought your calf closer to his mouth, littering it with harsh bites and soft kisses.

Biting your lip, you reached your arm out, silently asking for him to come closer to you, to which he accepted. Setting your leg down, Jeno placed his arms on either side of your head, his face now just centimetres away from yours. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you wanted to keep the eye contact, so you mustered up the courage to look into his swirling orbs. In his eyes were a mix of emotions, ones that were unrecognisable to you, but you liked it. Tilting your head up slightly, you pecked his bottom lip lightly, which earned you a grin from Jeno. It grew wider when you wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing him in even closer to you. He hummed and kissed you back forcefully as he picked up the pace, his balls slapping against you sharply.

The tears that ran from your eyes down your cheeks seemed to motivate Jeno. Before, he could only hear your sobs, but seeing you cry switched something inside him. It made him want to fuck you harder, just to see you cry even harder. You looked so pretty, with your makeup all messy and tears running down your face. He loved it.

So he fucked you harder, and so you cried harder, you moaned louder, and you pawed at his back. His skin was under your nails, he could feel how they cut into him the harder he thrust. You were driving him fucking insane.

Jeno leaned his forehead on to yours as he moaned out sweet nothings. “I fucking love your pussy, fuck.” he cursed. His words made you tighten around his cock, which only made him groan louder, but it was like music to your ears. He felt like your pussy was sucking him in the way it would constrict when he fucked into you.

“Jeno, please,” you whimpered, but you didn’t even know what you were begging for. “Fuck, Jeno, you’re so fucking good.” you repeated your words as you whined out to him.

His words made your insides flutter, his movements made your heart race and your breaths quicker. Everything felt so good you could barely moan out words anymore.

He was fucking you dumb and silly. You were nothing but drawn out exclamations and tears. You were so sensitive, and yet you didn’t even want to tell him to stop.

It was just too good to stop.

So he kept fucking you, and he kept filling you, over, and over, and over again until you felt it. “Jen… Jeno, fuck, I’m cumming.” Suddenly, Jeno pulled out again, the same way he did earlier, but this time, he crawled between your legs again, fingering you until you came while jerking himself off. This one hit you so hard that your mind went completely blank and no words could even come out of your mouth. Jeno couldn’t even register what happened until he felt a wet substance leak on to his sheet.

He couldn’t fucking believe it.

His mouth latched on to your squirting cunt almsot immediately, drinking in your juices like it was water. Some liquid dripped down his neck as he lapped up the rest that leaked from your pussy, but he never let up. He continued to eat you out so well even after you came, you thought you were going to do it again.

As your hand raked through his dark hair, all it took was one tug at his roots for him to cum. Jeno rode his high by fucking himself into his mattress, and until he was done, he rest in between your thighs.

Slowly making his way up to you, you looked down, only to find that his dick was still hard. “You’re joking, right?”

“How about we finish that pack in a bit, hm?” he grinned, making you scoff.

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itneverendshere · 4 months

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can't remember anything before you - rafe cameron.

request: "can you write something for rafe, where he's had a crush on topper's older sister for ages and he finally does something about it? it can be fluffy and smutty, honestly I'm just here for the plot."

pairing: rafe cameron x thornton!reader; brother's best friend! trope or best friend's sister! trope lmao; fem!reader.

word count: wrote 11 word pages i apologize;

WARNINGS: p in v; fingering; handjob; smut with feelings; smut with plot; a lot of cursing; rafe being a lover boy; mentions of slow burn like the slowest burn of his life but it pays off; mentions of voyeurism; p in v out in public??; wrote the word moan a thousand times.

you drive him insane.

what the hell are you doing prancing around the house in the tiniest red bikini known to mankind?

rafe's not a creep, okay? earlier, he tried to redirect his attention, focus on anything else – the tv, the background music, even the patterns on the wallpaper – but his gaze involuntarily gravitated back to you. it's as if the universe conspires against him, pushing him to the edge of his self-control.

it's not just the stupid bikini; it's the way you carry yourself.

it's not fair.

it's why he secluded himself from the party an hour ago, slipping away unsuspectedly to the little private lounge you kept in your favorite area to sunbathe. he sank into a reclining chair, running his hands through his buzzed hair in frustration.

closing his eyes for the millionth time that evening, rafe tries to summon the strength to think about you in anything except the slutty number you're wearing— and it still doesn't help. in the distance, laughter from the party echoes, a stark reminder of the festivities he chose to distance himself from.

then, the hidden door creaks open, and without looking, he knows it's you.

it's your spot after all. maybe this was a terrible idea.

the subtle scent of your sunscreen wafts through the air, and the sound of footsteps approaches. rafe's heart quickens, torn between the desire to get the fuck away from you and your scent that urges him to stay. he keeps his eyes closed for a moment longer, clinging to the darkness as if it can shield him from you.

completely fucked. he's so fucked.

you settle into a nearby chair, and the silence between you is almost comforting. almost. because that sleazy bikini of yours is still very much imprinted into his brain. rafe finally musters the courage to open his eyes, only to meet yours the second he does.

it takes an unbelievable amount of willpower to fight the groan in his throat when he realizes your arms are crossed and doing absolutely nothing to hide your tits. the world seems to narrow down to the glistening droplets of water on your skin, the curve of your body. his gaze trails down and he almost folds on the spot.

oh, for fuck's sake.

the reclining chair suddenly feels like a throne of thorns. he should've gone home. ogling you is nothing new in his book, it's what he does best, but now that you've spent the entire summer together...having you all to himself after years of barely catching a glimpse of you during the holidays or summer breaks in the outer banks, rafe knows that it's not just a stupid crush on his best friend's older sister.

it's not just a fleeting desire, it's something that has been brewing inside him for years, and the eye of its right here.

"you, okay?"

rafe almost jumps out of his skin, as your voice breaks the silence. he hesitates, finding it difficult to find the right words when you're looking at him with your pretty eyes.

he clears his throat, attempting to regain his composure, "yeah, yeah. i'm...i'm good." rafe replies, his voice rougher than he intends.

your pouty lip’s part, perhaps ready to probe further, but he can't let you mess with his head.

"just needed a breather from the party, y'know?" he adds, hoping the casual tone will deflect you from analyzing him like one of your books. you're the only one who always saw through the layers he wrapped around himself.

too fucking smart for you own good.

you tilt your head slightly, exposing your pretty neck, "were my cocktails that bad?"

there's an underlying teasing undertone, and he can't help but let out a small, rueful chuckle, "nah, don't think they could be bad even if you tried, peach." he replies, a sheepish grin playing on his lips.

your heart races at the sight of him. he’s gorgeous. no one should be allowed to look this good, especially with a shaved head and a three-day stubble. you'd like to blame the drinks for luring your nasty thoughts out, but you know this, is entirely on you.

weird, right?

this was rafe cameron. the little rafe cameron who grew up down the street from you, the insufferable kid your brother brought along to every single-family vacation and had the biggest crush on you when you were seventeen. the metamorphosis from the boy to the captivating man seated before you makes you head hurt.

he's a man now, the prettiest you've ever seen, and it only took him one summer to have you under his palm.

his phone looks so small in his large hands, your gaze follows the veins lining the back of them as his fingers nimbly play with the screen.

"am i boring you?" you ask, leaning your head back into the chair, his perfume, replica jazz club you assume, wafts over you and it takes everything in you not to drop your face into his buff chest and just inhale him, "you haven't spoken a word to me all day."

there's a slight buzz from the alcohol in your veins that allows you to ask the questions you'd never ask if you were sober.

rafe runs his hand across his jaw, analyzing you slowly. "'course i have."

you scoff, feigning nonchalance. "no, you haven't. it's like you're avoiding me."

rafe's heart skips a beat. "avoiding you? m'not avoiding you."

you raise a perfect eyebrow, challenging him, "really?"

rafe shifts uncomfortably in the chair, his gaze flickering between your eyes and the tempting curves that the tiny red bikini accentuates.

"is it because raven is here?"

his eyes are busy tracing the lines of your features with an unwavering dedication. he's never been the best at multitasking when in your presence. he sees your lips moving but can't wrap his head around what you asked.

when he catches your eye again, there's a subtle blush gracing your cheeks, but you don't look away, "who?"

"raven. your ex? the girl you were fucking on spring break?"

rafe's eyes widen comically, surprise and discomfort settling on his face. he shifts in his chair again, as you've catch him off guard. how the fuck did he forget you knew about raven?

"oh, uh, raven. yeah—i mean no! no, no, it's not about her. we're not a thing anymore," he stammers out, fingers scratching his stubble, "that was a spring break thing."

you sit up straighter, the tequila and curiosity-fueling your boldness, "a spring break thing, huh?"

you pray to god he can't pinpoint the jealousy coating your words.

his jaw slightly slackens, forming an unintentional expression of awe as you move your legs, once again momentarily losing the ability to form coherent thoughts. beads of sweat form on his forehead as he struggles to maintain composure.

the heat is not helping his situation at all.

when the silence becomes a little too overbearing for you, you can't shake the growing unease that you might be unintentionally bothering rafe's peace. your words flowed, but you notice a subtle glaze over his blue eyes, a distant look that hints at his mind wandering elsewhere.

is he thinking about raven?

you adjust your posture, nervously fiddling with the bracelet on your arm, a subtle sign of your growing discomfort, "do you want me to leave?"

rafe's eyes snap back to you, the fleeting moment of distraction replaced by a sudden intensity. he blinks a few times, as if trying to shake off the mental fog that had settled, "'course not," there's a hint of urgency in his voice. he doesn't want you to leave, and that realization tightens the knots in his stomach, "always want your company."

this is unbearable. you've gotten him on a tight leash, and you don't even know.

his tone makes your lips twitch, and you press them together to keep from smiling, "aww, look at you being nice to me, it's like you're sixteen all over again."

an involuntary groan escapes his throat, the sound automatically making you clench your thighs.

"you remember that?"

"course i do, you're the only guy who's ever gifted me flowers."

that's because you've only dated douchebags, it's what he wants to tell you, but he doesn't because it's none of his business.

"how much have you had to drink?"

you smirk, "a little. how much have you had to drink?"

he trails his eyes up you higher, gliding up your tummy, over your tits, right up to your throat, "a little."

a subtle awareness tingles at the back of your senses and that's when it hits you.

rafe is staring at you.

he's not shy about it; his eyes trail over you, leaving a tangible heat in their wake, practically eating you alive and you have to take another look to confirm you're not being a delusional bitch. so maybe... you did wear this bikini hoping he would finally do something, that he'd finally understand that you want him.

you've spent the entire summer teasing him. seeing if you could get a rise, hit the right button.

you quirk a brow at him, amusement curling at the corners of your lips, "bikini's nice, isn't it?"

he clears his throat, a subtle rasp betraying the restraint he's trying to maintain.

"yeah, it's...it's something," he replies, the words slightly breathless. he crosses his arms across his chest, biceps big enough to make you want to climb him like a tree.

you lean forward propping yourself on one of your elbows, making sure he gets a fantastic view of your cleavage, "you know, rafe, you've been pretty quiet."

his lips, naturally inviting, become the focal point as he bites down on the lower one, "just...taking in the view, i guess." he mumbles, his gaze momentarily darting away before locking onto you again.

rafe feels like he's fourteen again, unable to hold a conversation with a pretty girl like you. except he's twenty-two and he should know better. you're going to give him a stroke.

"the view, huh?” your eyes widen in mock-surprise, “and do you like what you see?" you ask.

he swallows hard. uh-oh, is he really about to do this?

"you know i do." he admits, the admission laced with a raw honesty that takes you by surprise.

got him right where you want him.

you decide to push the boundaries a bit further, your voice dropping to a sultry tone, fingers playfully tracing the edge of the bikini strap.

"wasn't sure about the red, but it's your favorite color."

his head whips back around and he swears he hears a crack. if he wasn't fully hard before, he is now.

you both know you meant what you said, not just a heat-of-the-moment confession. his gaze is fixed on you and his eyebrows are pushed together in a painful expression and he just keeps shaking his head.

he opens his mouth, takes a slow, shuddering breath that you feel through every inch of your body and leans forward, hands gripping the arms of the chair for dear life, "peach."

there's an underlying warning in his voice, begging you to take a step back and rethink this entire thing, but quite frankly, you're tired of thinking. as matter of fact, you're done making excuses not to fuck rafe.

he exhales a shaky breath, "you're playing with fire, y'know that?" his voice is low, it only spurs the warning and longing lingering inside you.

you're both breathless and you haven't even touched each other.

it's time you deliver the final nail to the coffin.

"you're gonna do something about it or do i have to find someone else?"

the realization eventually sinks in: you want him. you want him as desperately as he wants you. you've pushed him to the edge, and there's no turning back now.

his hands are on you before you can blink again, roaming fingers locking around your wrist to pull you towards him, knocking his phone to the ground in the process, but he doesn't care, everything's background noise when you stumble into his lap, pretty legs dangling to the sides. his hands wrap around your torso, pulling you closer, chest to chest, fingers digging into your hips like he's trying to convince himself you're not an illusion.

the world narrows down to the heat of his touch, the electrifying sensation of his fingers on your skin. you feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest, mirroring your own anticipation.

rafe's eyes, lock onto yours, a silent agreement passing between you.

"y'sure about this?" he whispers, voice a low growl, but the vulnerability in his eyes makes you want to kiss him stupid.

his hands, which had been restless before, find a purpose as his fingertips brush the skin of your face lightly, caressing your chin between his thumb and forefinger before his eyes sweep up to meet your own.

"please." the words come out like a plea.

“please, what?" he asks, so smug you almost punch him, "gotta tell me what you want, hm?"

“kiss me.”

and then his lips are on yours. it's more than just kissing; it's a fusion of desires, an electric current that drags you under. rafe's touch is confident, yet tender, as if he is unraveling a secret, delicate treasure. your senses heighten, catching the subtle nuances of his warm breath mingling with yours.

rafe's kiss is a slow burn, a deliberate exploration that leaves trails of heat in its wake. there's an artistry to the way he traces the contours of your lips, teasing and coaxing, building a crescendo of anticipation, rendering you breathless.

the lounge chair becomes a battleground of hands and lips, a frenzied exchange of desires unleashed, an intensity that borders on desperate, as if trying to capture and savor every moment. your fingers trace along his arms, and his hands explore every inch of your body, as if mapping out the territory he's yearned for.

his lips leave a trail of fire along your jawline, down to your collarbone, and you suppress a cry, the sensation sending shivers down your spine. the summer nighttime air feels heavy, thick with the scent of sunscreen and the heady aroma of desire.

rafe breaks the kiss for a moment, his breath hot against your skin.

you’re both panting, breathing so hard that your heaving chests touch with every breath.

"been driving me insane all summer, y'know that?" he admits, a husky edge to his voice, throat bobbing, "so fucking insane." he whispers into your neck.

he can't even think straight with your ass firmly pressed against him.

you attempt to keep an even voice, but nonchalance escapes you for the time being. "that was the plan all along."

rafe chuckles, a low, throaty sound that resonates through you, feeling the warmth of his breath against your ear, "god, gonna be the death of me."

there’s no time to reply because he leans his head and catches your lips faster this time.

he tilts your head down, applying a little bit of pressure to your mouth. your lips part again, and so do his. he swallows your moan into his mouth, and eases his tongue into you, urgently exploring every crevice of your mouth, hand slipping from your cheek and resting at the column of your neck, fingers kneading the back of it.

you press your body further into his and you can feel every inch of him vibrating, his entire body pulsing with need. his skin feels so hot against yours, he’s unbearably hard and you’re positively dying to get your hands on every single inch of his skin.

your nails scrape against his scalp and you squeak in shock as rafe’s hips surge upwards, forcing his hard cock against you. the unabashed moan he lets slip is sinful and it’s all you want to hear for the rest of your life. you can’t stop the urge building up inside you, you’re not even certain you can stop moving your hips even if you wanted to.

his hands dig into the plush of your thighs and he restrains himself, you deserve better than to get fucked out here. he watches closely, hypnotized by the way you begin rubbing yourself onto him, the outline of his cock grazing back and forth between your covered folds.

“baby, we can—can’t, jesu—not here.”

the new pet name makes you feral for him.

you trace a finger up the column of his throat, sending a shiver down his spine, you don’t stop moving your hips, watching his eyes flutter every time you rub just the right way.

“why not?”

rafe groans, head falling back to the chair, “here?”

it’s almost funny how he’s willing to bend over every decision he’s ever made in his life, just for you. he’s letting you dry hump him right here, when your brother, his best friend and god knows who can walk in at any given moment.

you nod pathetically, brain turned into mush, “can’t wait any longer.”

“stop saying shit like that.” he warns you through gritted teeth, “fuck.”

the needy sound that rips through your chest when his hands leave your thighs echoes in his mind.

“peach”, he begins, roaming hand brushing up the back of your thigh and squeezing the flesh just below the swell of your rear, “y’have a problem with control."

both your lips are swollen pink and ridden with spit.

“like you’re any better.”

you’re such a brat.

rafe grabs your chin and tilts your head, so you have to look into his pretty eyes, “let’s not make any noise, yeah?” his lips create a path up your throat, hands on your ass, kneading and pushing so he can grind you all over his growing bulge.

you whimper, rocking harder on him and wrapping your arms around his neck. you just want him to touch you. his hips roll slowly, rubbing his hard-on lazily and mindlessly. he can't help but send a rough smack on your ass, smirking at your surprised yelp.

“just touch me,” you grip his shoulder harder, holding on for dear life as his hands trail back, the bits of his nails scraping along your naked thighs.

they catch the waistband of your bikini bottoms. he traces your clit over the fabric feeling the warm, wet patch you’re leaving in them and then he teasingly slips his fingers underneath, swiping them along your slit, thumb, and index finger opening your pussy to his gaze.

this time he swallows hard, seeing your pussy pink and glistening for him.

“’m touching you, peach,” his touch, and scent, cloud your vision, the soft sounds of his labored breath singing in your ears as he leans down to press wet-mouthed kisses to your neck, “m touching you.”

”more,” you whine, lips barely parted, drawing out another salacious moan from him. “fuck.”

“like this?” he whispers against your lips, words hoarse and murmured, watching your eyes soften and brows twist, features becoming pliant under his enamored gaze, “you’re so fucking wet.” he tsk under his breath, shaking his head in the typical rafe cameron condescending way.

he presses a finger inside of you, slowly stretching out your tight hole. you groan, and his eyes roll back at the way your walls stretch around him. so fucking tight. you rock harder against him, fucking yourself into his finger and wrapping your arms around his neck again. you just want to feel him against you.

his half-lidded eyes look up at you as you contort on top of him, feeling overstimulated, with a single finger.

he coos, his other hand sweeping over the back of your head sweetly, pushing back stray sweaty hairs. he nudges your nose with his, hand on the back of your neck, and tries to meet your eye. the squelch as his finger fucks into you, fast and deep, is the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.

“rafe—“ you hand grips his wrist as your eyes roll back when his fingers find that spot.

“t’s good?”

“so good,” you whine loudly, he’s cocky tone only adding to his allure.

you can feel the stretch it takes just to take his finger, rutting into you, curling perfectly.

he thinks it might be the sweetest thing he’s ever witnessed – your voice when you’re being fucked. you’re gushing around his digits, hands now clutching his shoulders. it’s like you can’t stop moving them, needing to feel every ridge of his body.

rafe adds another finger, pressing the tips of his middle and ring finger against that soft, spongy part deep inside and grins when you cry out his name.

“fuck,” you cry out against his skin dragging your lips up his throat, over his jaw, before finding purchase at his lips in a kiss that devours all air in your lungs. your fingers curl around the band of his bathing shorts, enjoying the slight whine that slips past his lips.

“let me touch you,” you plead, words muffled by the way your tongue can’t seem to leave his skin alone, teeth grazing along where his neck and shoulder meet. you nip at the area, before daring to swipe your tongue along his neck, sucking the tender flesh with your teeth.

holy fuck, are you marking him?

“oh god."

a third finger, your hips now rutting against him.

“hickeys, baby? that territorial, huh?” his hand slows for a moment, twisting so he can thumb at your clit before he continues, both motions in tandem. you cry out, eyes screwed close, hips shoving forward, “you look so pretty like this," rafe whispers against your skin, his full-blown pupils looking up at you through his long lashes.

“i want more”

“every little sound you make goes straight down to my cock,” he’s rubbing his cock so perfectly against your clit again, only making you whine more desperately for him. he places a chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth, just so he can see you blindly chase after his lips.

and then, you feel empty.

he lets his fingers slide all the way out and his throat tightens at the feel of you bearing down, trying to hold on to him as he withdraws completely. he ignores your protests and drags his thick fingers across your wet folds. when he feels satisfied with the coat around his fingers, he moves them toward your face, letting them trail over your lips.

“gon’ open up f’me?”

you gasp, but obey immediately, tongue darting out to lick your slick off his fingers. rafe doesn’t hold back his groan, watching your tongue swirling around his digits. he throws whatever concerns he had over your noises out the window.

he’s too lost in your body to care if someone finds you two or not.

as a matter of fact, let them see. god knows he’s dying to show those bastards you belong to him anyway. he wants you all to himself, wants the whole world to know you’re his.

“so, so, so good,” he praises, closing the gap, lips molding right into yours again. his hands find home in your throat, adding just right the amount of pressure to make you sigh against his lips.

rafe smirks, brushing a finger along your skin, should’ve guessed his pretty peach had kink for praises. your tummy is in a knot because he’s running his hands along your body, and you just need to have him.

you clumsily slip his shorts and boxers down, just enough to touch him, and he raises his hips automatically helping you slide them down, his cock springing out of his confines to lightly hit against his abdomen.

you break the kiss, needing to look at him.

and you’re so glad you do, because rafe has the most perfect dick you’ve ever seen. you catch yourself staring at him, devouring every part of his body with your eyes.

he feels his heartbeat faster, face flush when your eyes are back on his face as you softly wrap one of you manicured hands around him, just slightly, slow pumps. but it’s more than enough to make him drop his head back, adam’s apple bobbing, brows pitched together.

“good?” you ask him, keeping the pace so you can feel him throb in your hand.

“everything’s good when it’s you peach,” he grunts out, and the way his abs seem to recoil makes your tongue slide across your bottom lip, “fucking perfect.”

your thumb smears precum across his tip, bending forward to ghost your lips over his, “need you inside me.”

the way rafe’s jaw drops open in a silent moan when you tighten your hold around him is beautiful, searing itself in the back of your mind.

settling on his lower lip, you draw it into your mouth, sucking softly, moving your hips even closer. he runs his hands along your sides, one stopping just below your breasts—the other one flicking your nipple with his thumb.

you keep your eyes open, needing to memorize every single moment. his breath comes down on your lips in heavy pants, fingers teasing your skin, hums of pleasure circling both of you.

“want me inside you?” his voice sounds so husky it makes you want to cry, “want me to fil you up?”

your hand leaves his cock, pulling him to you by his shoulders, and he braces himself with one hand on your waist, another on the chair.

he runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, “that bad?”

“don’t tease me,” you struggle to produce words, hands winding through his chest, “waited long enough.”

rafe holds his cock by the base, running it up and down your pussy, “not longer than i have.”

you sink down onto him, biting your lip at the slow pressure, the pleasant stretch that pulls at your middle. you can feel tears brimming your eyes from pure relief and he feels like every single fiber of his being is scorching.

he can feel just how deep he his, his fingers clutching at the flesh of your hips like his life depends on it, “fuck. that’s it, baby.”

your hands are placed firmly on his stomach, and one of his glides up right up to your throat, pulling you down to his chest. all you can properly let out of your mouth are pleas and whimpers. the stretch is on the edge of painful, but he fits so perfectly inside of you. you huff a short breath when he’s all the way in.

“you okay?” he asks against your ear, softly biting the lobe.

your answer is a desperate roll of your hips, “perfect.”

you begin to move your hips up and down, as the stretch gives way to something delirious, and rafe takes mercy on you, beginning to thrust back up into you, his rhythm building up until your mouth falls open again into a pretty moan, until sweat shines on the high points of his perfectly sculpted face. every time your skin touches his it’s fucking scorching, and the stretch is agonizing, and the heavy air is suffocating but then he’s bottoming out and you feel your brain go fuzzy.

you’re wrapped around him so tight it makes his moves sloppy, almost mindless but so deep it knocks the air out of your lungs.

“waited so long for you,” one hand on the curve of your hip, the other along your jaw, lips hungrily working over yours, swallowing your gentle whimpers, your soft, sweet pleas vibrating against his tongue, “have no idea what you do to me.”

his confession only makes you drag yourself harder against him, clit brushing against his pubic bone, “rafe!”

“that’s it,” he coos, tone gentle, the friction too overwhelming, “so beautiful.”

the strain in his voice makes you want to stay like this forever.

you tighten around him further, letting your nails rake down his chest. rafe grunts, thrusting harder, shifting you closer to him as humanly possible. you feel his stomach and thighs clench, and his hips sputter, “you’re so deep.”

he presses his hand against your stomach, feeling the bulge, “might fuck a baby into you,” he rasps, thumb catching against your clit, “let them know you’re mine.”

“yours,” he’s trailing kisses along your collarbone until he reaches your tits, leaving a line of soft, wet suckles behind, “only yours.”

the way he’s stroking you unrushed is absolutely toe-curling, guiding you over his cock with very little maneuvering, gently pushing your hips down onto him.

“gonna keep you here, stuffed, for hours baby.”

you can hear it reverberating through the night air.

the slap of skin, the grunts. the sound of the chair creaking as he fucks you into it. each delicious slip, every time you feel his veiny shaft twitching for attention against your walls. you’re so lightheaded you might pass out.

rafe feels his balls tighten. you are creaming so fast, squeezing the hell out of his cock. he’s making sure to put your pleasure before his, hitting all the right spots.

“rafe, baby—" his name being moaned out by you is urging him to bust inside you, his eyes narrowing slightly as his grip on your hips tightens, “oh—im gon—fuckk.”

he only pushes you faster up and down his dick as your walls grip around him, a mix of your cream and his pre-cum coating his length. his eyes focus on your face, basking in the pretty expressions you make.

“it’s too much.” you whine, feeling your orgasm about to reach itself. rafe’s eyes glimmer at your words, tracing a thumb against your lips before sneaking a kiss onto your mouth.

“you can take it,” his muscles flex from the constant friction. you’re so full, all you can think about is rafe spilling inside of you, “c’mon.”

his cock thrusts even deeper, a sharp hiss leaving his lips at the way your pussy tightens. his calloused thumb wipes away a stray tear. he loves the sting of your nails practically sinking into his skin. he tangles his hand in your hair, forcing your neck to arch up as he leans in, biting hard enough to leave a mark.

“im—m—gonn—” you feel him right at your womb again and again, any semblance of sanity melted away the moment he set his hands on you, “holy fuck.”

“i know baby, keep your eyes on me,” you with your perfect tits bouncing with each roll and grind of your hips is enough to make a grown man cry, “eyes on me.”

you lean back, supporting yourself with your hands on his thighs, circling your hips and doing your best not to close your eyes. the burning inside you is so strong, it’s taking you everything not to close them.

his hands slide around your back when he sits up suddenly, and you gasp, “oh my god.”

the pace has both of you panting, his balls slapping your ass every single time. a shiver runs down your spine and you throw your head back and almost scream out his name.

he chuckles breathlessly, “never getting tired of that sound.”

you can feel yourself starting to reach the edge of your climax, grinding harder and harder into him and gasping with each spark of pleasure it gives your throbbing clit. each time he hits your g-spot just right, you feel more and more slick dribbling out of you and down your thighs.

“so fucking pretty,” he groans, punctuating each word with a deep thrust and you feel that tight coil in your belly snapping.

“fuck—rafe,” you pant heavily, breathy whines falling from your lips, legs starting to give out. “oh mhmf—don’t stop!”

your thighs are shaking and seizing as it finally its you, at full force. you squirm in his hold, feeling an almost overwhelming wave of pleasure wash over your body. the feeling’s so intense it’s almost painful. rafe’s arms hold you tight, keeping you grounded while you shudder in his grasp, his fingers determined to prolong your ecstasy.

his piercing blue eyes stay trained on yours the entire time, “knew you could do it.”

he doesn’t let up his pace, pressing chaste kisses to your lips to soothe you.

“wonder how many of those i can get out of you.”

long night ahead of you.

______________________________________________________________

might have some grammar mistakes, frankly im not sure at this point lmao, it's late. english's not my first language, it's my third i think. will edit later bc i spent hours writing this and my old ass needs to sleep, thank you for reading <3 by the time im posting this, over 200 of you voted they wanted smut so y'all won, tried best to deliver the goods. also rafe's not mentally unstable in this one, in case that wasn't obvious, he's just a little too in love and cute.

let me know if you enjoy it and if i should start taking requests more frequently!

ps: that picture is how i imagined rafe throughout this whole thing

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #rafe cameron au #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x you #rafe fic #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe x female!mc #rafe imagine #smut #rafe obx

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art · 7 months

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Creator Spotlight: @jdebbiel

Deb JJ Lee is a non-binary Korean artist based in Brooklyn, NY. They have appeared in the New Yorker, New York Times, NPR, Google, Radiolab, and more. Their award-winning graphic memoir, IN LIMBO, about mental illness and difficult relationships with trauma, released in March 2023 from First Second.

Below is our interview with Deb!

Have you ever had an art block? If so, how did you overcome it?

That implies I am over my art block, but I’m still in it! I think about Kiki’s Delivery Service a lot and how she had to stop doing a thing, and that you can’t really force it, and you have to let it come back to you. It’s a pretty humbling moment, realizing there is more to life than just drawing. I’ve been trying to consume other content like reading or watching movies—anything that is not drawing-related—and to trust that it will come back to me. I think not being afraid to do the small pieces before committing to the big pieces is helpful. Because big pieces are what I am known for, I dig myself into a deeper hole, thinking that each piece has to be bigger than the last one. So yeah! Relaxing and doing the small things before overcommitting to a big piece is the best way to go about it for me.

Which 3 famous artists (dead or alive) would you invite to your dinner party?

I feel like these are all artists that I have second-degree connections with! Jillian Tamaki, Victo Ngai, and Tillie Walden would be my picks!

What are your file name conventions?

…What file name conventions? I mean, I don’t have specific file name conventions, but I actually have a public Google Drive archive! But I usually put “djjl_whatever-the-title-is_final,” and I would always know it’s the final and legit version.

What is a recent creative project that you are proud of?

I did an illustration for the whiskey brand Johnnie Walker. It’s so wild because I only had four days to finish it, and it usually takes me a week and a half if I rush. And honestly, it’s probably one of my best pieces from this year, which is funny. It was for the Mid-Autumn festival, so I made it as Korean as possible.

How has technology changed the way you approach your work?

I only use my iPad to draw everything now, and if I want to pretend that I have a steady workstation, I’ll use my Cintiq. I still am not as comfortable on the Cintiq as I am on Procreate, but it’s still pretty solid and nice. That’s the good part about technology. The bad part about technology is how AI art has been messing things up for me. I’m currently in a lawsuit about AI art as a class rep. Some of my stuff got turned into AI art late last year, so I have to give a deposition at some point.

What is a convention experience that has stuck with you?

Honestly, they’re all good! I feel like Lightbox Expo has been really nice because it’s truly been a convention for artists. I feel like that’s where most of my audience is, and they’re all around because their purpose is to be better at art. That’s where a lot of original artists do well because they’re getting art they’re inspired by, not so much fanart. I like the Lightbox Expo because it encompasses the pure love of art very well.

Top tips on setting up an Artist Alley booth?

Use a Y axis, not just your X axis! Take advantage of it! Branding is also something to think about. It is definitely something I’m getting better at. Having an assistant is also very important. I’ve also heard that 8.5x11 to 12x18 inches is usually a good size for prints, but I also provide postcard-sized prints because sometimes people don’t want to commit to a larger size.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

You know this is so funny. I’ve been following @alicexz for over a decade on Tumblr and other platforms. I’ve followed her work since high school, and we’ve only recently become peers. I found her, and we met for the first time in real life, and she recognized me. And then I found all my drawings from when I was in my Alice phase, back in high school, and I was like, “Yo, this is when I was trying to be you so badly!” and she was cracking up and was like “Wow, this is so good!” It was such a sweet moment. I wanted to take a picture of her holding my drawing up. It’s really nice because now we’re peers.

Thank you so much for stopping by and sharing, Deb! Be sure to check out their Tumblr blog over at @jdebbiel.

#creator spotlight #artists on tumblr #deb jj lee #jdebbiel

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ellemj · 5 months

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Half-Tongue Rule: 12 Days of Smut #1

Bucky Barnes x Reader One-Shot

Summary: A little Asgardian liquor and a whole lot of tension leads to a teeny tiny bit of smut between you and a certain jealous super soldier.

Warnings: profanity, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, teasing, public teasing, jealous!Bucky, slight DUBCON if you consider it so, alcohol consumption, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Feel free to comment and let me know if this requires any other warnings.

Word Count: 9k (I'm very sorry)

A/N: Thank you to @littlemiss-yeehaw for both catching my mistakes in writing and helping with warnings. She's the reason I don't give in to my daily urge to delete my whole blog lmao. Also, I apologize for this being an hour later than planned. It has been a day. This is just a lil baby smut but I think each day of this event will get filthier and filthier as I get closer to my favorite storylines.

You hate parties. You hate the amount of alcohol that people seem to need to consume just to enjoy each other’s company. You hate the way you feel obligated to stay for a certain length of time just to appease the host. You especially hate the way parties make it hard to even hear your own thoughts. Or maybe you just hate Tony Stark’s parties, specifically. His parties are classy, yet overly loud and hard to break away from when you’re ready to leave. However, you still accepted the Christmas party invitation that Pepper so kindly emailed you three weeks ago. It would’ve been too difficult to come up with a fake excuse for missing it when half of you live in the same building.

So, that’s what led you here, taking the elevator up to the top floor of Stark Tower, standing with your back pressed against the cold metal wall as you listen to the chatter of the various SHIELD employees who piled into the elevator with you. The only familiar faces on the ride up are Sharon and Wanda. The three of you arrived together, but you know as soon as the elevator lets you out into the party, they’ll both disappear into the crowd to be social butterflies. Your dress is so thin that the cool temperature of the elevator wall sends a chill down your spine, making you regret having left your winter coat downstairs like everyone else.

The sound of music playing through the speakers just a little way higher in the elevator shaft reaches your ears and you take a deep breath. You remind yourself that parties are supposed to be fun and that you put all of this effort into looking hot as fuck, you need to find a way to enjoy the night. You tell yourself to be free and have a little fun, not to hide away in a corner refusing to have even one drink, and not to rush out of here before it’s been at least an hour.

When the elevator slows to a halt and starts filing out to join the lively, festive gathering ahead, your legs refuse to carry you forward. The lower half of your body hasn’t quite gotten the whole be free and have a little fun memo yet. Wanda shoots you a disapproving look paired with a small frown and shakes her head before reaching out and wrapping an arm around your waist. She pulls you along with her and suddenly, you’re immersed in Christmas music and Christmas cheer.

“Don’t be a buzzkill. Have a few drinks for once and loosen up, you’re can be the life of the party when you’re a little drunk.” Wanda commands, ushering you a few steps further away from the elevator. You’re about to remind her that she’s only ever seen you drunk once, and that it’s been over a year since then, but as soon as her eyes land on Vision across the room, she’s gone. You find yourself standing alone in your little burgundy dress. You take a moment to let your eyes roam over the crowd, noticing how almost everyone is in black or navy. You see a couple of women in forest green dresses, and even one in a dress that’s as white as snow, but no one else is wearing the same color as you. Damn. That’ll make it a little harder to blend in in the corner.

You let out a soft sigh before pushing your loosely curled hair back over your shoulder and turning to the left to head to the small bar. One drink. You can have one drink and pretend like you’re enjoying this before you make your great escape. Though the expansive room is quite crowded with people, the bar itself isn’t so bad. The bartender is quick to pass you your glass of whiskey neat as he shoots you a kind smile. You’re only one sip in when you notice the bartender’s eyes look past you, over your shoulder, at someone else. You await the inevitable approach of whoever it is that’s behind you as you savor the slight burn of the whiskey trickling down your throat.

“You showed.” Sam’s voice rings out from behind you. He steps up to the bar and rests his elbows on it, standing a little to your left. You turn to face him and find him grinning from ear to ear. His infectious smile has always made you feel a little more at ease, and so you find yourself relaxing the tiniest bit in his presence. You lift the glass to your lips and take a second sip. Sam studies you while he waits for a beer, taking in your deep burgundy dress and your quiet demeanor. He knows parties aren’t your thing, but he also knows you can be more fun than just about anyone he’s ever met when you have a little bit of alcohol coursing through your veins. It’s not that you need to drink to be a fun person, but you keep yourself so reined in, so on task most of the time, that you forget to live. When you drink, you let yourself relax a little and your guard goes down just enough for you to have a good time without overthinking it. “Whiskey neat?” Sam asks, eyeing your drink of choice. You nod your head and drag your fingertip around the rim of your glass, glancing down at the amber-colored liquid.

“I wanted to look mysterious and brooding. Holding a glass of whiskey makes a girl look mysterious and brooding, right?” You ask jokingly, giving Sam a small smile. He chuckles and stands up straight as the bartender presses a bottle of beer into his hand. He turns to fully face you now but his gaze continues to span across the room until it lands on a certain super soldier. Bucky stands tall beside one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, dressed in a well-fitted pair of black dress pants with an even better-fitted black button up adorning his torso. You take in the unusual sight of his vibranium arm on display. You’ve never seen him with his sleeves rolled up like this before. He looks a bit like a successful CEO of some company that earns him a few million dollars a year, especially with those gold accents in the crevices of his arm. You can’t seem to tear your gaze away from the man who you’ve been strategically avoiding at all costs.

“If you want to look mysterious and brooding, you should talk to the cyborg over there. He has that look down pat.” Sam says with a laugh. He won’t say it to either of you out loud, but Sam thinks you and Bucky are so similar that you could’ve been cut from the same cloth. He knows people say that opposites attract, but he has to wonder if that’s always the case. To anyone else, it would seem like you and Bucky hate each other, even though you work together so seamlessly in the field. Sam has witnessed an odd sort of vibe between the two of you multiple times before, something that walks a very thin line between hatred and sexual tension. Neither of you have ever given Sam enough solid evidence that it’s anything besides a mutual dislike, but he can tell. He may not know just how right he is about the two of you, but he knows something is there.

As if Bucky could feel your eyes on him, he turns his head ever-so-slightly and meets your gaze. His blue eyes are always so piercing, seeing right through you and making you feel on edge for absolutely no reason. The moment he looked at you was the moment you should’ve put your drink down and switched to water for the rest of the evening. But when Thor arrived a few moments later, bearing the gift of Asgardian liquor, you decided to drink your demons away for one night.

---

“What’s going on over there?” Sam’s question catches the attention of the small crowd of Avengers that are gathered around one end of the bar, as he points across the bar where you and Thor seem to be engaged in a more-than-friendly conversation. Sharon smiles deviously and Bucky’s jaw clenches, already hating where this is going.

“Thor’s trying to close the deal with her. He gave her a little Asgardian liquor, and I think it’s going to pay off for him.” She explains, lifting her colorful drink to her lips and taking a long sip. Bucky watches you closely for a moment, picking up on the fact that you’re definitely past tipsy. Thor is seated on a barstool and you stand in front of him, laughing at something he’s just said as he smiles down at you. Bucky’s jaw clenches again when he sees you playfully rest a hand on Thor’s knee. Bucky would like to think that your hand is there for balance, but he knows that’s not what this is. Not at all. He scoffs and finishes off his own glass of whiskey.

“It’s not going to pay off for him.” Bucky mumbles, trying to ignore the unfamiliar feeling that’s rising up in his chest. Jealousy. You wouldn’t go for a guy who’s shamelessly flirting with you after liquoring you up, just to get you into bed. You thrive off of banter, off of arguing with someone to the point of wanting to shut them up with your body. Bucky isn’t positive, but he’s fairly sure that he knows this about you. He picks up on the way you come alive when the two of you end up in a heated argument after a mission goes awry, he picks up on the way your frustration in the field brings about a different kind of tension between the two of you on the trips back to the compound. You aren’t the type to fall head over heels for a few compliments and a pretty face, even if the guy is a god. Thor would be too easy for you. And if Bucky has learned anything about you after butting heads with you for the past two months, it’s that you like a challenge more than anything.

“It looks like it is.” Sam claims, pointing a finger in your direction now. Bucky looks again and sees Thor leaning in close to you, whispering something in your ear that makes your cheeks a little more pink. He catches himself squeezing his whiskey glass so hard that it might’ve shattered if he hadn’t released it onto the bar. Thor rises from the barstool, towering over you by at least a foot, shoots you a suggestive look, and then walks past you. Everyone watches as he heads straight for the elevator, making a quick exit from the party, everyone except Bucky. He’s focused on you as you turn your whole body to see Thor walk away. It’s clear that he’s daring you to follow him out, to run off somewhere for a late-night rendezvous, anyone can see that. Sam and Sharon have seemingly lost interest in the situation at hand and they quickly dive into their own conversation. Bucky continues watching you closely, his eyes narrowed and zoned in on you, as you finish off your drink and set your glass down on the bar. When you finally look back up, you look straight at him. As soon as your eyes meet his, he notices the way every muscle in your body tenses. Fuck it.

His walk is confident, nearly cocky, and you can tell he’s seething. You watch him so carefully as he makes his way through the crowded room, noticing how everyone parts as soon as they see him coming. He’s clearly sporting a bit of a mood and no one here would dare be on the receiving end of that. As Bucky approaches you, his eyes bore into yours, with no trace of a smile or kind greeting to be found behind his blue eyes. You swallow hard, getting ready for one of his signature scoffs or briefly worded insults.

“Bucky—” You start, ready to diffuse whatever argument your sometimes-field partner is about to begin with you. He doesn’t even slow down as he nearly barrels into you, his vibranium hand wrapping around your wrist, forcing you away from the bar. He turns you around roughly and pushes you in front of him, straight through a corner door that he’s throwing open with his right hand. Suddenly, you’re immersed in even dimmer lights as he closes the door behind him, effectively shutting the two of you off from the rest of the party. His grip on your wrist loosens and you can smell the soft tinge of the same whiskey you’ve been drinking tonight on his lips. The music is muffled in here and it helps you get ahold of your thoughts before you turn to face the little shit that dragged you in here against your will. When you turn around, Bucky stands still in front of the door, his vibranium hand uncharacteristically unobscured by any sort of glove. It gleams in the low light and distracts you for a brief second, before you look up at him.

“What the hell, Bucky?” Your voice is raspy from the burn of the whiskey and Asgardian liquor. It feels a bit like you swallowed rocks, but the buzz it all gave you is worth it. As annoyed as you should be with Bucky right now for manhandling you like he’s anything but your occasional partner in the field, you can’t help but think about how fucking hot he looks tonight. His dark pants show off just how muscular his legs are, specifically his thighs. They also show off just how well-endowed he is in a different department, but you try hard not to think about that. Bucky catches you looking him up and down, unfortunately, as you’re not the slyest when you’ve been drinking liquor that works against even a super soldier’s metabolism.

“Eyes up here, sweetheart.” His tone is patronizing, but his words send an all-too-familiar heat rushing between your legs. You instinctively listen to him, shifting your eyes up to meet his. His command felt almost lustful to you but his gaze is harsh. Maybe you just felt like it was lustful because you wanted it to be. You do tend to get a little horny when you’ve been drinking, and with the Asgardian buzz, everything starts to seem a little porny. You swallow, closing your mouth and waiting for the man to say anything else. He takes his time choosing his words, as he lets his eyes rake over your body just like your eyes raked over his a moment ago. He didn’t get a good enough look at your dress when you were all the way across the bar, but now he’s decided that he fucking hates it.

“Bucky?” You prompt, tilting your head to the side, trying to get him to look in your eyes again. When he finally does, his gaze remains cold and harsh.

“You showed up at a party just to get drunk and go home with Thor?” He questions, his tone both accusing and condescending. You scoff, taking a step backward and crossing your arms over your chest. This small action lifts your breasts and you notice Bucky’s eyes briefly lower to steal a glance. God. He wishes he’d found a darker closet to force you into.

“Fuck you for that.” You spit back at him, narrowing your eyes and shooting daggers in his direction. He laughs lowly and watches as you wobble a bit on your heels, the buzz from the liquor developing into more of a state of drunkenness as your body struggles to metabolize it.

“You would fuck me. You’d fuck anyone after drinking what he gave you.” Bucky tosses out the insult with ease, a cocky smirk painted on his face. You run your hands through your hair, wondering when the room started tilting to one side.

“I wouldn’t fuck you, but anyone else maybe. What are we doing in here, James?” You ask, looking around the small, empty supply closet that you seem to be in. You take one step back and lean against the wall behind you for a little support. Bucky chuckles at the sight of you, making such an effort to fight off his insults and maintain your balance at the same time. He’s never really been around you when you’ve been drinking, and he finds it unbelievably amusing.

“Are you lying to yourself or just to me?” His voice is lower now, a little quieter and a lot more charged with something. You want to say it’s charged with lust, but again, the porny haze might just be from your own point of view. However, Bucky is feeling that porny haze in the air as well. Hell, Bucky’s the one creating it. You push his question to the back of your mind, focusing on what you want to know. If he would just hurry up and tell you why he forced you into a damn supply closet, you could walk out of here and head downstairs to find Thor and start having some real fun.

“Let’s try this one last time, what are we doing in here?” You repeat, pushing yourself away from the wall and stepping closer to him? You’re only a foot apart from each other now, and you can see him much better from this distance in the low lighting.

“I’m keeping you from making a stupid decision.”

“No, you’re kind of cockblocking, if you even know what that is.” You retort, rolling your eyes and turning to the left as you reach for the door handle. Bucky quickly reaches out with his flesh hand, wrapping his fingers around your wrist and forcing your arm away from the door. He doesn’t let go of your wrist this time.

“You’re not sleeping with him.” He says firmly. You look down at where he’s gripping your wrist before looking back up at him, narrowing your eyes once more.

“Why the hell do you think you get a vote?”

“I’m not voting, I’m vetoing it. You’re drunk.”

“I don’t need you to protect me, Barnes. Contrary to popular belief, I can take care of my damn self.” You snatch your hand away from him, thinking he’ll release his grip when you do, but he only tightens it and uses the leverage to pull you against him. Your chest crashes against his and you can feel his breath fan across your face. He smells like whiskey and light cologne, and his body heat emanates through his thin button-up shirt. A few less-than-holy thoughts speed through your mind. For a second, you worry he might be able to read your partially drunken thoughts with his intense stare. Bucky’s jaw clenches and he fights the urge to shove you against the wall and fuck you right here.

“Then go home and take care of yourself instead of letting that jackass do it for you.”

Did Bucky really just tell you to go home and get yourself off? You’re ninety-percent sure that that’s what he just alluded to. Okay, eighty-five percent sure since you’re not quite all there due to the obscene amount of alcohol you’ve consumed over the past hour. You feel a wave of heat spreading through your entire body, lighting your skin on fire. The point where Bucky’s hand is clasped around your wrist is especially on fire. You inhale a shaky breath, calming yourself down and trying to command your body to cooperate with you and cool down. Bucky smirks as he watches your attempt to gather yourself.

“I got all dressed up and drunk for sex, Barnes. I’m not letting my effort go to waste.” Bucky’s eyes are saying so many things at once, but you can’t figure out a damn word of it in your current state. All you can think about is him pressing you up against the wall right now. Maybe he’d be a little pliant since he’s also downed a good amount of whiskey tonight, and since he clearly suddenly thinks that he has a say in your sex life. You feel your drunken confidence, your alter ego, coming out to play. You smile now, pressing your lips together and softening your gaze as you drink in the sight of his steely gaze and unreadable expression. “If I can’t have sex with Thor, are you going to tell me who I can have sex with tonight?” Your words take him by surprise and he recoils, dropping your wrist and stepping back. You feel powerful now, making him step away with only your words.

“You really should just go home, sleep it off.” He says, trying once again to steer you in a safe direction. It’s not so much that he’s trying to steer you in a safe direction, but more that he’s trying to keep himself from having a reason to pick a fight with Thor. He doesn’t want his hands on you. He’s not letting it happen.

“I am so fucking tired of you always trying to protect me. What happened to the introverted ass who lived across the hall and skulked around the tower? He was way more bearable.”

“You like me way more now.” He states, narrowing his eyes at you. You shake your head quickly.

“You’re still an ass, but now you’re all confident and you know you’re hot and it’s unbearable.” You feel the regret as soon as the words leave your lips. You didn’t mean to say the part about him being hot.

“You think I’m hot?” He asks. He’s intrigued now, that cocky smirk once again gracing his face. You shrug your shoulders, reaching for the door again. He lets you grab the handle this time but he places a strong, firm hand against the door, at the height of your face, stopping you from opening it. He steps in close, his chest nearly brushing against your right arm and side as he leans down to your ear. “Answer the question.” A chill races down your spine, forcing you to close your eyes and draw in a deep, calming breath. Why is he being so damn authoritative all of a sudden?

“I’m drunk.”

“Which just means that you have no filter. So, answer the question.” He keeps his hand firmly planted against the door and you know he won’t let you out of here until he gets his answer.

“Yes.” You answer as nonchalantly as possible, turning your head to him. You’re a mere inch apart now, his lips hovering so teasingly in front of yours and his eyes staring into your soul.

“You’re not leaving with him.” He states. His tongue darts out, licking his bottom lip and narrowly missing yours. You can’t stop yourself from looking at his lips, especially his bottom lip that’s now moistened right in front of you.

“You can’t tell me what to do.” You slur your words, pushing your hands against his chest and forcing him back a couple of small steps. You march yourself out of the closet now, leaving him behind, but your mind still seems to be stuck on the image of his lips. You should’ve just kissed him. Who could have blamed you if you did kiss him? Asgardian liquor gives everything such a sexual energy for some reason.

Bucky can’t stop himself from keeping a watchful eye on you for the rest of the party. After you got away from him, you headed off to dance and drink even more with Sharon. As long as you don’t sneak off to wherever Thor went, he really doesn’t give a shit what you do. Or maybe he does. He isn’t quite sure why he suddenly gives a shit. Why were you so set on having sex with someone tonight? And why did it seem like you didn’t even care who it was going to be? That doesn’t seem like you at all, having a meaningless one-night stand with whoever happens to be up for one.

Bucky’s mind keeps mulling over the fact that you practically called him hot. Well, you said yes when he asked if you thought he was hot. Maybe you’re more bold and honest when you’re drunk. Or maybe you’re just a liar when you’re drunk. Either way, Bucky can’t get it out of his head.

“Yo, cyborg, you in there?” Sam waves his arm in the air, drawing Bucky’s attention out of his thoughts and back to the present conversation.

“What?”

“Which one of us is going to offer the girls a ride home? They’re both way too drunk to drive.” Sam asks. Bucky scoffs. Like you’ll accept a ride from either one of them with how independent you try to be and how especially stubborn you’re already being tonight. Sam distracted Bucky just for a moment, so he didn’t notice you and Sharon heading over to join the group in the sitting area of the lavish room.

As they round the side of the couch, Sharon takes the only space on the couch between Sam and Clint, leaving you to stand beside the couch, steadying yourself on the arm of it.

“We were just talking about you two.” Sam says to you both with a grin, glancing at Sharon first and then up at you. Bucky notices you trying a little too hard to remain in a steady and upright position, but he knows if he stands up and offers you his chair, you’ll absolutely refuse to take it.

“Are you going back to the tower tonight, Y/n?” Clint wonders aloud, focusing his eyes on you. Bucky can tell that Clint also notices your unusual difficulty with balance, but he doesn’t seem very concerned. Clint’s seen her drunk before, so he’s actually used to this side of you. You laugh and shake your head, your curls softer and looser than when Bucky first saw you a little while ago.

“No way, I’m staying with Sharon tonight.” You answer. You looks down at her feet for a brief second and Bucky can tell it’s because your heels are hurting your feet, but you’re not the kind of girl to take your shoes off and walk around barefoot in public.

“Come on, you can’t both be on your own this drunk.” Clint argues, looking to Bucky and Sam for support. Sam catches his drift and takes on a slightly more serious expression before looking up at you. You shake your head once again, rolling your eyes before turning your head and narrowing them at Bucky.

“I wouldn’t even be going home with Sharon if Sergeant Barnes over here hadn’t made me miss my chance with someone.” You say coldly, your eyes once again shooting daggers at Bucky. Sam and Clint turn their attention to Bucky now, and Sharon lets out a hearty laugh.

“Yeah, I heard you vetoed her potential one-night stand.” Sharon’s voice is full of amusement.

“I did you a favor.” Bucky scoffs, returning your hard stare with one of his own. You saunter over to him now, maintaining your balance well enough to seat your pretty little ass on the arm of the chair he’s in. You cross your legs at the knee, causing your already short dress to ride even further up your thighs. Bucky’s vibranium hand that rests on the arm of the chair is only inches behind your ass. He forces himself to look past you, at Sam, who is clearly very entertained by this whole situation.

“Sam, is cockblocking ever a favor?” You ask, seeking validation for your little tantrum over Bucky stopping you from leaving with Thor. Sam shakes his head, looking up at you with a joking frown.

“Never. Friends don’t stop friends from getting theirs.” Sam answers, shooting Bucky another look. He’s implying to Bucky that you and him must not simply be friends if he stopped you from sleeping with Thor tonight. You clap your hands together once before pushing yourself off of his chair and taking two steps toward the couch, you turn yourself effortlessly and take a seat on Sam’s right knee, which doesn’t even seem to faze him. Bucky watches as Sam places a hand on your back to keep you steadied there. His jaw clenches and his vibranium hand coils into a fist.

“See, Bucky, you’ll have to make it up to me.” Your tone can only be described as flirty and suggestive, but only Sam and Bucky seem to pick up on it. Sam raises an eyebrow at the seething super soldier, awaiting his response. He cocks his head to the side, thinking of a way to play this smart.

“Next time Fury pits us against each other in training…” Bucky starts, leaning forward in the chair and resting his elbows on his knees before continuing. “I’ll let you win.”

“No thanks, I kicked your ass last time. I don’t need you to let me win.” You narrow your eyes at him once again, before turning to Sam, Sharon, and Clint. “Sam remembers that, right Sam?” Sam nods vigorously, a smile creeping across his face as the memory plays through his head.

“I would’ve loved to have seen it.” Sharon pipes up, leaning against Sam’s shoulder now. Damn, he’s looking like he’s such a ladies’ man tonight. Bucky considers taking a picture for him so the memory lasts. Wanda and Vision join the group, Wanda perching herself on the armrest next to Clint’s side of the couch and Vision standing beside her, keeping a hand on her back. “Oh, I have the best idea.” Sharon suddenly sounds like a child, and she’s clearly about to say something ridiculously stupid. “We should play truth or dare.”

---

“If we’re doing this, we’re doing this the fair way.” Sam asserts. Clint quickly took his leave before the game was agreed upon, claiming that it was already way past his bedtime and he had to check in with his wife and kids over the phone before they all fall asleep. Wanda and Vision filled his vacant spot on the couch.

You feel the effects of the alcohol that you consumed earlier slowly making its way through your system and losing its potency as it’s metabolized. You still feel a good bit of drunkenness from the Asgardian liquor, and you really wonder how long that will take to clear your system. “We alternate between truth and dare, spinning the bottle to pick who takes the turn.” Sam places an empty beer bottle on the coffee table before us all, his hand briefly leaving your back when he leans forward to do so. As he rests back against the couch again, his hand finds its way to your middle back again. Sitting on his knee like this is starting to make it feel like your ass is falling asleep, and if your ass is falling asleep then your legs won’t be far behind.

“Truth.” Sharon calls out for the first turn, reaching out to spin the bottle and get the game going. You stand up from Sam’s knee and switch to sitting on the floor on your knees. Your dress is sitting dangerously high on your thighs now. You glance around the circle at everyone. Sam, Sharon, Wanda, Vision, and Torres, who joined when Clint left, all keep their eyes trained on the spinning bottle. Bucky, however, is looking right at you. He probably wishes you would’ve gone home and taken care of yourself like he told you to earlier. What a jackass. The bottle slows to a stop, the lip of it pointing at Wanda. “Wanda!” Sharon yells out, excited by her first victim. “Does Vision have a dick?” The question sends the group into an uproar, but Wanda only laughs.

“Yes.” She answers, keeping it short and simple.

“Are follow-up questions allowed?” Sharon quickly asks, turning to look at Sam.

“Only if the bottle lands on that person again and it’s a turn for truth.” He clarifies. Sharon scoffs, rolling her eyes.

“That’s no fun at all.” She complains. You watch as Wanda leans into Vision’s ear and whispers something, something that makes him smile and nuzzle against her cheek ever so slightly. God, they’re sickeningly adorable. Wanda breaks away from him for a moment to spin the bottle, calling out dare as it begins to spin. Of course, it lands on you.

“Wanda, we’re friends.” You remind her. You doubt she would make you do anything too crazy, knowing her, but if she’s been drinking and isn’t her normal self tonight, she might be a little adventurous. Mischief gleams behind her eyes and you know you’re in trouble. This game is starting to feel a bit sobering.

“I dare you to sit on Bucky’s lap for the rest of the game.”

“Wanda!” You yell out, an annoyed tone to your voice and a glare painted across your face. “That has to be against the rules. What if he doesn’t want to participate?” You try to talk your way out of it, looking to Sam now since he seems to be in charge of the rules here. He thinks for a second, looking at you and then up at Bucky. Bucky’s expression is stoic, as unreadable as ever as he stares back at Sam.

“I’ll allow it.” Sam decides, smirking at Bucky. You groan, pushing yourself up from the floor but refusing to make eye contact with Bucky. You move a few steps toward him and sit on his knee, just like you sat on Sam’s earlier.

“Oh, no. That’s not his lap.” Wanda points out, waving her hand at you, gesturing for you to move in closer to his body.

“Fuck you, Wanda.” You say evenly, before fully sitting on Bucky’s lap as he straightens up in the chair a bit. You’re basically sitting right on his crotch, and slightly to his left so his vibranium arm is sitting on the armrest behind your back. You feel him take a deep breath and his exhale fans across your right arm. You avoid turning to look at him. The more you think about it, you’re still really annoyed that he felt like he could tell you not to sleep with someone tonight. You’re even more annoyed with yourself for listening. You should have just kept your original plan and left with Thor. You offer Wanda one last glare, making her laugh and lean closer into Vision. She mouths the words get over it before drawing a heart in the air with her fingers, her way of apologizing to you and saying it isn’t that serious. You know it’s not that serious but you also know what she’s doing. She thinks if you’d just hook up with him once, Bucky and you would get rid of whatever tension is between you and you could be regular partners in the field, as casual and unproblematic as when you work with Clint or Sam. But this isn’t some movie where the two main characters fuck their feelings away and stay friends in the end, hell, there aren’t even any feelings to fuck away here. You’re still barely even friends. You just work together.

You lean forward in Bucky’s lap, away from his body, and spin the bottle, calling out truth before leaning back again. You lean a little too far back, your balance still not perfect due to the alcohol coursing through your veins. The exposed skin of your back in your low-cut dress brushes against his left chest and vibranium arm and his cold metal hand quickly slips behind you, resting on the skin of your back and steadying you. He clearly doesn’t want you sitting any closer than you have to for this dare. Once you’re steady, you expect him to put his hand back on the armrest of the chair, but he doesn’t. He keeps it firmly planted on your back, his vibranium fingers reflecting your body heat and warming up ever-so-slightly. You find the touch comforting and you feel yourself relaxing a little bit. This definitely beats sitting on the floor.

“Sharon!” Sam hollers, tapping her knee that’s closest to him on the couch and then clapping his hands excitedly. “This is going to be good. What do you want to know about her, Y/n?” The bottle points straight at her, and she seems more than ready for whatever you might ask. You think for a moment, with everyone’s attention focused on you, expecting you to come up with something good.

“Was Steve a good kisser?” Bucky lets out a quiet, low chuckle at your question. You can tell he’s trying to seem like he’s not overly enjoying this game, but you know he’s getting at least a little kick out of it. His hand is still on your back and you don’t think he plans to move it anytime soon. You focus on it a little too much, noticing the way his pinky finger rests lightly just an inch above your ass.

“Yeah, he knew what he was doing, that’s for sure. You never would’ve known he hadn’t had any real practice in the last few decades.” She admits. She’s not even trying to hide her smile as the memory of Steve comes to the forefront of her mind. “You know how sometimes guys either do too much with their tongue, or not enough?” You and Wanda both nod, while the four men in the group look on at you, obviously intrigued by the topic. “He did exactly enough.”

“Wow, who taught him the half-tongue rule?” Wanda questions jokingly.

“The half-tongue rule?” Torres sounds genuinely curious. He can be so adorable sometimes, so clueless for someone so unbelievably smart.

“For a good makeout session, you should never put more than half of your tongue in the other person’s mouth.” Sharon explains. Torres nods as she explains, as if he’s absorbing the information and storing it for later use. “Okay, this one is going to be good.” Sharon announces, her eyes darting around the group for her next victim as she sends the bottle into a rotation. You get distracted for a moment when Bucky’s vibranium thumb rubs a small circle against your lower back, so softly that you question if it’s even happening.

“White Wolf…” Sharon tsks. A look that you can only describe as evil takes over her features and she grins as she stares Bucky down. You didn’t notice that the bottle landed on him at first. He continues rubbing those small circles with his thumb and you’re really wondering what the hell he’s doing, but you don’t want to draw attention to it. “I dare you to demonstrate the half-tongue rule with your partner there.” Sharon points right at me. You swallow hard and shake your head, but you can feel Bucky’s lack of any reaction behind you. He doesn’t so much as take a deep breath or shift in his seat at the threat of the dare.

“Wait, what are the stakes if they don’t?” Vision asks, looking around the group for an answer.

“You have to answer three truths in a row, hard ones.” Sharon decides, looking to Sam for approval and he nods quickly. You see him shoot Bucky a look, you can’t tell what it is but it’s insinuating something. He knows Bucky would refuse to answer three hard questions about himself, so it’s way less likely that he’ll refuse a dare.

“And what if the person the dare involves refuses to participate?” Wanda asks, smiling at you with fake sweetness. You see what she’s doing and you’re mentally kicking her for it. She wants to know what punishment you’ll face if you refuse to let Bucky complete this dare with you.

“Same thing, I guess.” Sam answers quickly. You don’t have a problem with answering truths, but with the direction Sharon and Wanda have been taking this game, it might be a dangerous thing to get yourself into. Who knows what they would ask at this point?

“So? Are you guys going to demonstrate the half-tongue rule or can we ask you both three questions?” Sharon prompts, her eyes flitting between you both. You finally turn and look at Bucky, but as your ass moves against his lap slightly, he presses his vibranium hand flat against your lower back, attempting to still you. He looks up at you, his eyes searching yours to see what your answer will be.

“Come on, we’ve all seen you kiss on undercover ops before, it’s just like that.” Wanda chimes in, trying to get the group what they want. You tune her out, waiting for Bucky to speak up and say he won’t do it, that this is childish and silly and you’re all adults. You know you’re in trouble when he cocks his head to the right and his lips curl into that smirk that you’ve grown so used to seeing on him.

“Why aren’t you backing down from this?” You ask quietly so only he can hear you. Everyone is staring at you, anticipating either a kiss or a white flag of surrender.

“Why aren’t you?” He licks his bottom lip and for the second time tonight, you think about how much you want that lip pressed between your own. Fuck Thor for giving you that drink.

You honestly couldn’t say who started it. You couldn’t say how long it lasted. But when you leaned into him and his left hand found it’s place on your hip while his right snaked up to your hair and pulled your face against his, you were lost in the moment. His lips moved against yours like it was a dance, something spontaneous and straight out of a movie, your heads tilting in opposite directions to give each other exactly enough leverage and access. His tongue swept across your bottom lip, waiting for you to part your lips and grant access. You hesitated, just for a second, but he noticed it and tugged on your hair, making you open your mouth just slightly, just enough for him to slip his tongue in and caress your own. Fuck, he tasted so good, like whiskey and lust and everything you wore this dress for tonight. Your entire body feels like it’s sparking with electricity everywhere that he’s touching you, where your ass is against his lap, where his hand is on your hip, where his hand is tangled in your hair. You sit now, still in the position you just kissed in, but with only your foreheads pressed together, your mouths inhaling and exhaling within an inch each other. He's probably breathing heavy from the effort and lack of air but you’re breathing heavy from the fucking horny tailspin he’s just sent your body into. It’s taking everything in you not to ask him for more.

“Holy shit, that was porn.” Torres says, sounding both impressed and surprised.

“How do two people who barely get along kiss each other like that?” Sam demands to know, and you can feel his stare boring into the back of your head.

“You remember what we all do for a living, right Sam?” You ask, pulling away from Bucky’s embrace and turning back around to face the rest of the group. You get more comfortable now, leaning against Bucky as he stretches his arms out on both of the armrests and sinks into the chair a bit. You’re both more at ease now, as if the kiss melted away some of the tension. The group raves over the kiss, and what they think was chemistry, rather than simply two experienced operatives who happen to be good kissers being forced into a situation together. Bucky, ready for the moment to be over with, grabs your left hip with his vibranium hand to hold you steady as he leans forward and spins the bottle. The shift in position reveals something, or more makes you feel something. His hard cock pressing against your right thigh. You turn your head to look down at him as he’s leaning back in the chair again and he makes eye contact with you, his smirk from earlier gone and his expression once again one of indifference. God, he’s really fucking good at acting like nothing fazes him.

“Sam, tell us about your last date.” Bucky says, his eyes still locked on yours. He must’ve seen the bottle spin to a stop in his peripheral vision. As Sam reluctantly begins to tell his tale, capturing everyone’s attention but yours and Bucky’s, you turn to the group once more and lean against Bucky again.

“Something in your pocket?” You question jokingly under your breath, still feeling his boner present underneath you.

“Stop talking.” He responds just as quietly, his tone sending a chill through your body. Why is it so fucking hot when he talks to you like that? It should infuriate you, the way he warns you and acts so demanding and in charge. Instead, all you can think about is him talking to you like that in bed. You swear, after tonight, you’ll never touch Asgardian liquor again.

The game continued on for another half an hour before the party began dwindling down until only about twenty or so guests were left. You still sit comfortably on Bucky’s lap, his dick as hard as it was when you kissed earlier, and yourself no less inebriated than you were then.

You shift on his lap, a little worried that you might be putting his left leg to sleep. Suddenly, you feel his hands on both of your hips, gripping you tightly and stilling you instantly. The room is still fairly dark and noisy with the music and drunken conversations that are being held all around, so you doubt anyone will notice his sudden shift in position.

“Don’t move.” He groans lowly in your ear, leaning forward so his chest presses firmly against your back. You stiffen against him, your eyes closing for a second as his voice and touch once again send your senses into overdrive. The game ended five minutes ago, so you should really get off of his lap now. Your phone, which currently sits on the coffee table in front of you vibrates and as Bucky sits back in the chair again, you let out the breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. You know he heard your phone vibrate, so hopefully he doesn’t mind you leaning forward to grab it.

Sharon: Are you staying with me tonight or going back to the tower?

“You’re staying in the tower.” Bucky says, clearly reading the message over your shoulder. You push yourself out of his lap now, turning around to face him as he adjusts his suit pants and sits up a little straighter to hide the situation going on in his pants.

“That’s the second time tonight that you’ve tried to make decisions for me.” You point out, staring down at him. Really, who does he think he is? He’s always seemed overly confident to you, but trying to tell you who you can’t sleep with and now where you’re spending your night? He’s crossing lines left and right. You watch him carefully from a short distance as his gaze follows Sam and Sharon, who are saying goodbye to a few friends near the elevator. Sam offered to drive Sharon home, since she definitely can’t be trusted to get herself there safely.

“You listened to me the first time.” Bucky says confidently, shifting his gaze back to you now, but keeping a serious expression on his face rather than the playful, cocky one that you know so well on him.

“Did I? Because I remember you telling me to go home and take care of myself, and I haven’t done that.” You glance down at your phone to text Sharon back while you wait for whatever smart ass reply Bucky is going to spew out next. You’re just about to text her and say that you’d love to have a sleepover when you hear Bucky’s low, sure-of-himself laugh. You look at him once more, your thumbs hovering over your phone screen. The way he looks in that chair, with that fucking smirk slowly taking over his features, makes you rethink what you were about to say to Sharon.

“Yet.”

---

Everything smells like him. And why wouldn’t it? You’re in his room, lying on his bed, with him standing just a few feet from the foot of the bed, his eyes roaming over every inch of your body. You still have your dress on but you feel naked in front of him like this.

“Are you getting shy on me now?” Bucky taunts, mischief gleaming behind his eyes as he takes in your timid expression and flushed cheeks. Sam chose to drive Sharon all the way back to her apartment across town, while Bucky quickly stepped up to give you a ride back to the tower. Somehow, along the way, the truth or dare game continued until you ended up accepting a dare to do exactly what Bucky said, to go home and take care of yourself. However, the dare came with a new stipulation: you had to take care of yourself while he watched.

“Yeah, I’m shy.” You respond sarcastically, pushing yourself off of his bed and trekking across the room to stand immediately in front of him. His arms are crossed over his chest, and he hopes the stance hides the racing of his heart from you. The stance most definitely doesn’t hide the raging boner straining against the front of his dress pants though. There probably isn’t a pair of pants in the world that could hide something so prominent. You stand close to Bucky, breathing in his intoxicating scent for a moment before closing your eyes and letting a serene smile cross your lips.

Bucky stands frozen when you begin slipping the straps of your dress down your shoulders. The muscle along the side of his jaw ticks as he clenches his teeth together when you reach back and easily unzip your dress. And when you finally let the small piece of burgundy fabric fall the the floor? Hell, he’s done for.

You open your eyes once you’re fully exposed to him, peering up at him with the most innocent look you can muster.

“Fuck this.” Bucky grumbles, losing every ounce of self-control he was harnessing as his hands grasp the sides of your face and he kisses you with so much desperation that you feel something awaken inside you. He uses the same move from earlier, tugging on the hair at the nape of your neck to get you to part your lips enough for him to taste your mouth. Fuck, you taste like his favorite whiskey. Your body moves on auto-pilot as Bucky walks you backward until the backs of your knees hit the mattress. With a less-than-gentle shove, Bucky sends you falling onto his bed. His hungry eyes travel all over your skin, over the perfect peaks of your breasts, the smooth skin along your abdomen that leads him straight down to what he needs most right now. Your cunt.

The way he’s looking at you can only be described in one way: animalistic. You’re sure he’s going to be back on top of you within seconds, but no, this fucking man sinks to his knees on the floor at the foot of the bed. He effortlessly lifts your legs over his shoulders, and then leans into you, kissing your clit so softly that you whimper. With all of the tension between the two of you tonight, you wouldn’t have expected him to be so gentle.

“You taste so fucking good.” Bucky groans against your folds, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses all the way down until he reaches your entrance. That’s when he stops being so gentle. That’s when he steals a glance at you, taking in the way your chest heaves with arousal and the way your hands are already gripping his bedsheets. That’s when he can’t stop himself from plunging two thick fingers into you and curling them, letting his fingertips drag against the walls of your pussy.

“Bucky!” You cry out, your back arching off the bed and thighs shaking over his shoulders.

“You could’ve taken care of yourself.” He reminds you, setting a relentless pace with his hand. He fucks those two fingers in and out, in and out, in and out. Every move he makes ignites your nerve endings more and more, until your nervous system is nearing a damn firework show. “You could’ve laid here and gotten yourself off for me.”

The moans and curses falling from your lips are nothing short of sinful, and every sound sends another rush of blood straight to Bucky’s already-hard cock.

“You’re so fucking stubborn. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? You wanted to end up in my bed tonight.” His voice is dripping with lust and you can almost hear the smirk that’s surely painted across his face as you come undone at his hands.

“Bucky…” You can’t say a damn thing except for his name. Even as he finger fucks you straight through your orgasm, and starts slowing down his movements, you can’t form a single word in your mind.

“Look at you.” Bucky coos, sliding his fingers out of your pussy one last time. You’re lying there so still with your eyes still scrunched closed. You completely miss the way Bucky closes his own eyes as his sucks the taste of you off of his fingers. He knows he should’ve held you to the dare and made you get yourself off. He never should’ve tasted you. He never should’ve felt how tight and wet your pussy is for him.

Now that he knows how sweet you taste, how nicely your pussy would fit around his cock, how fucking perfect you sound when you’re cumming for him, he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to let you leave his room.

TAG LIST:

@gyokujyn @mrsjoequinn @thealloveru2 @sunnyhummingbee @jenniferpendragon @siciliano13

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #mcu #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #marvel #the winter soldier #winter soldier #12 days of smut

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llamagoddessofficial · 2 months

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Bro you actually got me wanting to marry farm sans 😭 he's so out of my league though. What a man. I like that the whole community wants them to get together too, sans is one of their boys, they gotta have his back and hype him up a little!! I just know there's a monster in town who's offered to plan the wedding for sans, and old ladies love gossiping and playing matchmaker if left to their own devices

"dangit. you found my hiding place before i did."

You jumped, glancing up and over your shoulder, distracted from staring out into the dark. But you relaxed once you saw who it was.

"Ah, sorry." You didn't actually want to move. You immediately felt better for Sans being there, even despite the events that had just transpired, some of your wound-up stress leaking away. "I can go find a new place to cower from socialising,"

"nah, this is fine." Sans sat down on the step, right beside you, letting out a relaxed sigh. He held out a glass of monster champagne to you - you (obviously) accepted. "s'more than enough room for two."

He was right. The beautiful little veranda was spacious enough for a whole party of people. It just so happened that the party had retreated indoors, now that night had fallen. From your spot sat on the edge of the veranda, you could faintly see the lights of the rest of the village, the muffled murmur of the dinner party going on in the house behind you not quite enough to mask the sound of the wind rustling the grass.

You fiddled with the glass. Sans' knee was almost touching yours. He smelled warm, comforting.

"Nice party." You mumbled.

Sans leant back slightly. "yeah. dinner is always good when felinus is hosting."

"Don't tell anyone I said this, but it's much nicer than Theodore's."

"i know he's a dolphin. but still don't get why he only served seafood."

...

You looked at him, and those pretty green eyelights focused onto you.

"So... are you also running away from the matchmaking?"

Sans' smile dropped - then he let out a somewhat pained noise, leaning forward and putting his skull in his hands. You couldn't help but giggle.

"m'so sorry," he groaned. The tension in the air had eased now that you'd finally broached the subject.

"It's fine. Really." You nudged him with your elbow. "It's just old ladies having a laugh. It's probably the most entertainment they've had in a long time."

He rubbed his face. "i know, i know. i just... stars, they're so pushy. it's mortifying watchin' them corner you like that."

You recalled the slight jump of fear you'd had when a cohort of delighted elderly bunnies had seemingly materialised out of thin air in the party to determinedly tell you it was such a shame a 'delightful human like you' was single. They then heavily reiterated how single Sans was, how much he clearly liked you, and what a 'lovely young man' he was.

"They can be strong-willed. That's for sure."

Sans sat up, but seemingly couldn't look at you. "i don't want you to feel some typa way about me because of them."

"... Some way?"

"i know yer anxious to fit into the community." He picked at the fraying sleeves of his knitted blue sweatshirt. "i don't want you to feel... like you have to date me, if you want to be accepted. you can date who you want. or not date. or whatever. i dunno,"

Oh. Your heart fluttered in your chest a little. "I don't feel like that at all."

He eventually looked at you, sheepish. "you sure?"

"Yeah." You waved your hand, eager to cheer him up. "They can be a bit pushy, sure. But it's all in good fun, right? It's not like they're chasing us into a church with shotguns. The worst they've done is very obviously set us up as dance partners at the festival."

A wave of relief seemed to pass over him. "or get us walkin' opposite ways 'round the market so we'll bump into each other."

"Besides." You smiled. "If they like me enough to try to set me up with someone they know, must mean I'm 'in'. So I'm all sorted on the community infiltration front."

He softened even more, nudging your knee with his. "that's true. they love ya. they'll like ya whether or not they've harassed you into datin' me."

"Not like I'd need to be harassed into that anyway."

...

Sans seemed to realise what you'd said before you did. His eyelights, in an instant, were double their usual size

...

"... what'd you say?" He was staring at you.

...

... You could feel the heat creeping over your face, neck and ears. Your mouth had instantly glued itself shut. You didn't answer his question - you just stared at your untouched champagne glass.

...

"SANS! HUMAN!"

Both of you jumped, this time, you felt the cold champagne splash out of the glass and onto your hand as you dropped it entirely. When the two of you turned around, Papyrus seemed just as startled by your reactions as you were to him; he was stood just outside the door, car keys in his hand.

"P-Papyrus!" "bro,"

Papyrus, immediately, gave you and Sans a shifty look. But he quickly covered it up again.

"WE SHOULD HEAD OUT NOW, HUMAN, IF WE WANT TO DROP YOU HOME BEFORE MIDNIGHT."

You and Sans quickly stood, bolt upright, at the same time.

"You-"

"i'll go say goodbye to everyone. you two get the car backed out."

"Sure. Sure,"

Before you could say anything else to him, Sans had hurried past his brother, back into the house. Papyrus watched him head inside with visible confusion written across his face.

...

"... HUMAN," Papyrus glanced at you. "WHAT DID MY BROTHER SAY TO YOU?"

"Uh, I'll..." You fiddled with your hair. "I'll, m, I'll tell you in the car."

#llama writes

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paintingwhiteceilings · 3 months

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❃S/O being drunk/tipsy around Seventeen❃

A/N: So I may have gotten massively drunk last weekend as the region I live in celebrates a specific type of carnival that goes on for five days straight. I might have, maybe, drank a little bit too much during the music festival day and as I was drunkenly stumbling around, I wondered what it would be like to get drunk around svt.

Also, am I the only one who has a K-pop idols I want to get drunk with bias line? Currently, my list consists of Lee Know, Xiumin, Jin and San (to name a few). Just wondering whether that is a normal thing to have or whether I should be concerned about my sanity.

Scoups/Seungcheol

❀ Chances are that if you are drunk around him, so is he. Coups loves a good party on the occasion and isn't a stranger to clubbing. However, where he can hold his liquor and knows his limits, you may have forgotten about yours. Part of him adores your clinginess and finds you adorable; thus, he lets you be your embarrassingly drunk self, laughing at your shameless and less-than-stellar dance moves. As long as you are in the safe, not-too-drunk zone, he will let you have fun and try to match your drinking pace.

❀ However, the moment he notices that you are crossing the line into way too drunk territory, the responsible part of him will kick in, and he will chase you around with water. He will get very serious, going all alpha leader on you and doing whatever it takes for you to take a sip of water.

❀ No amount of cuteness or begging will convince him to stop his getting you sober plight; you can flirt all you want with him, but once he is concerned for your well-being, it is difficult to persuade him to let you keep on drinking. He is definitely not above cutting the night short either, taking you home instead. If you do as much as refuse, he will throw you over his shoulder and walk out like you weigh nothing.

Jeonghan

❀ To the poor soul who decided to get drunk around this man, I hope that he will never feel the urge to show those embarrassing videos that he took of you to those around you. Although he will, of course, keep his eye on you to prevent you from getting progressively drunker, he is enjoying you being drunk way too much. He will have his camera out the entire time and instigate you to do something embarrassing that sober-you would very much regret.

❀ He has an entire folder dedicated to your drunken mishaps, whether it is a five-minute video of you slurring your words as you argue why cows are grossly underappreciated when it comes to favourite animals or you crying as you hug a tree, sobbing that they do not receive enough love. Jeonghan cherishes every single photo and video he took of you being drunk, frequently rewatching them to cheer himself up.

❀ Honestly, it never fails to make you regret drinking around this man because he has no problem using it as blackmail against you. Whenever you try to argue with him during game nights, he will subtly reference one of your entertaining escapades, teasing you that anyone who repeatedly drunkenly asked whether turning a phone on aeroplane mode would give it the ability to fly is in no position to argue with him.

Joshua

❀ He is so unbelievably gentle with you. The moment he senses that you are getting ab bit too tipsy or borderline drunk, he will make sure to switch to water for himself instead. Although he enjoys the occasional drink, he wants to make sure that he is able to take care of you, letting you freely drink whilst he makes sure you do so safely.

❀ He is genuinely the sweetest, listening to all your drunken ramblings with a fond smile on his face. Whenever you are not paying attention to him, he will secretly switch out your alcoholic beverage for water, cheekily gaslighting you into believing that it is still the same drink by taking a sip himself and pretending that you are imagining things when exclaim it no longer tastes like vodka.

❀ When you guys get home, he will go into full caregiver mode, helping you remove your makeup, making sure that you didn’t forget to plug in your phone for the night and laying out your comfiest pyjamas for you to slip into after a brief shower. He will tuck you into bed after making sure that you drank enough water for the night, preparing a glass of water and some medication for you to take in the morning when the hangover kicks in, before turning in himself.

Jun

❀ The moment you enter your shared apartment drunk, Jun feels torn between laughing at your ridiculous actions spurred by your drunkenness and helping you sober up. Seeing you put your hand in the fish tank as you try to pet your now traumatised goldfish because you felt bad for never petting it before is hilarious to him. He is curious about what else you might do, following you around as you try to do more ridiculous things. He is thoroughly invested in seeing where your drunken brain is taking you next and what else you will get up to if he lets you roam around.

❀ Jun will entertain your drunken childlike curiosity, using it to finally be able to do the totally safe experiments you usually tell him off for. The two of you will engage in a plethora of dubious food experiments, mixing different drinks to find out whether they will taste any good together and go to the supermarket to buy a dozen different ice cream flavours in order to rank them all. Where usually you would scold him for trying to see whether a bath can really overflow, drunken-you would join him in watching the water level rise slowly.

❀ However, he simultaneously will be very caring, preparing a hearty meal to combat your drunkenness. He might not be the best chef in Seventeen, but he can cook up a couple of meals that help with absorbing the alcohol, preparing one of them to help you sober up a bit. He will ensure that you eat plenty of it and drink enough water before you go to bed.

Hoshi/Soonyoung

❀ In no universe is this man not drunker than you are when the two of you go out drinking. Hoshi’s tolerance is so incredibly low that he could get drunk on the smell of alcohol alone. The other members have to babysit the both of you, not even for your own safety but for those around you. He would be the type of person who, when you buy your shots, forgets that they are not his and, in his drunken stupor, take them when you turn around to pay. You are too drunk to notice either, not that it matters much, as you finish most of his drinks on accident, too.

❀ The dance floor is a danger zone when you two step onto it. Neither of you cares much about dancing decently; instead, the two of you have a competition going on who can come up with the most creative, shameless dance moves. The dance battle only ends when one of you accidentally knocks over a slow-dancing couple during an emotional ballad.

❀ The other members will ultimately have to step in, guiding you back home before either of you does something illegal. It is easier said than done; the two of you are so incredibly drunk that you decide to pose and take pictures with random statues you spot on your way home. Once home, they try to get you both to drink water but miserably fail as Hoshi completely breaks down, professing his undying love for you between sobs. The night ends with the two of you in each other’s arms, crying about how much you love each other.

Wonwoo

❀ Considering he doesn’t really drink himself, he will make sure you are not exceeding your drinking limits, babysitting you the entire time. However, where he usually makes sure to stop you from getting drunk the moment he notices you are getting tipsy, he hadn’t anticipated that the dinner with the members would turn into an out-of-control drinking party. When they suggested doing some drinking games whilst waiting for the food, he had assumed they would have gone easy on you; instead, you had lost so many of the drinking games that you were borderline drunk by the time that the food reached to your table.

❀ Throughout the dinner, Wonwoo tries to get you to drink as much water as he can. Your glass doesn’t stay empty for long as, rather than eating himself, he is way too focused on making sure that it is constantly filled with water. You have barely swallowed your food when he puts another piece of meat on your plate, hoping that the grease will help you sober up somewhat.

❀ When the members insist on playing more drinking games during and after the dinner, he initially refuses on your behalf. If you insist on continuing, he will awe the members by taking every punishment shot going your way for you. Unfortunately for him, the members have finally figured out a way to get Wonwoo to join their drinking festivities, using you as bait to get the usually introverted member to drink.

Woozi/Jihoon

❀ As another member who rarely, if ever, drinks, he always tells you to be careful when you do. When you get invited out for drinks with the members, he fully trusts them to keep an eye on you for his sake as he is stuck in the studio, having to finish a song. What he is not expecting, however, is for them to call him at 1 AM to come pick you up, as they may have grossly overestimated your alcohol tolerance. He can hear drunk-you brabble about how much you miss him in the background of the phone call as he talks to the members about coming over to take you home.

❀ With a big sigh, he makes his way over to the pub you guys had been drinking at, realizing that it might not have been the smartest to have the members who frequently drink and have built up quite the tolerance take you drinking. He is not necessarily angry at you or the members; instead, he is disappointed in himself for not having been there with you to ensure you would not go past your drinking limits.

❀ He is incredibly gentle with you when he finally arrives at the pub, scooping you up in his arms, ready to take you home. He will hear no apology on your part or the members, reassuring you that it happens and that although he would like for it to be prevented in the future, he understands that getting drunk happens. At home, he will be so soft as he makes sure to give you whatever you need. He will make sure not to leave your side, helping you shower and giving you plenty of cuddles in bed to make you feel better.

DK/Seokmin

❀ Another member who is probably just as drunk as you are, if not more. He would be getting drunk with you, sharing most of his drinks with you to the point where neither of you remembers which drink belongs to whom. He is definitely enabling your drunk behaviour and perhaps even the cause of it because whenever he picks up his shot of soju, he makes sure to give you one, too.

❀ He will rope you into doing something stupid, putting on one of his infamous skits with you as the second lead. You don’t know where he got a wig from, but he is fully engrossed in his role as Sandra, the woman who is about to be eaten by zombies. Where sober-you would be mortified by his behaviour, you are currently too drunk to care, down to join him as one of the vicious zombies. It doesn’t help that a small part of him still feels embarrassed about his actions and keeps taking a swig of the soju bottle left on your now-unoccupied table, making him progressively drunker as the performance continues.

❀ At the very least, your performance will be enjoyed by a considerably large, amused audience who decide to pay for some of your drinks in appreciation, making it a relatively cheap night out. Neither of you will be able to do much the next day as both of you completely forgot to drink water before going to bed, too busy re-enacting the best moments of your play, resulting in a massive hangover. As a result, the two of you spend most of the next day cuddled up in bed; DK claims that your hugs are the best cure for his crushing headache.

Mingyu

❀ Mingyu sometimes forgets that taller people tend to be able to drink more compared to those who are more vertically challenged; thus, he accidentally got you very drunk when he dragged you to go clubbing with him and the members. That being said, he is not feeling too guilty about it because where sober-you would try to limit the PDA in front of the other members, drunk-you completely forget they exist. Mingyu is on cloud nine when you start to touch him more than usual, thinking he has officially gone to heaven as you hug him close and refuse to let go.

❀ He is giggling uncontrollably, as you are all over him, insisting on slow-dancing to every song that comes on, even if it is to the most upbeat techno song. Although he makes sure that you don’t get too drunk, he will not make any attempts to sober you up immediately either, enjoying your attention way too much. He, for sure, will take at least fifty photos and videos where you are kissing his cheek and drunkenly rambling on and on about how much you love him, saving them for a rainy day. You are the cutest person alive to him, and he seriously considers always bringing you along from now on.

❀ Once home, he will make sure that you are fully provided for, cheekily suggesting to shower together as he is incredibly ‘worried’ that you might slip in the shower in your drunken state. Part of Mingyu is slightly sad to see you sober up when he hands you your tenth glass of water in an attempt to prevent a nasty hangover.

The8/Minghao

❀ There is no way in hell that Minghao is not watching you like a hawk when the two of you go drinking, taking away your drinks when he notices that you are getting a bit too out-of-control drunk. You always try to argue with him when he does, whining that you, the adult, know your limits and don’t need him to babysit you. Thus, to prove you wrong and to get you to stop arguing with him whenever he stops you from drinking, he makes a deal with you; you get to drink however much you want, and he won’t interfere with drunk you whatsoever.

❀ This is how you end up drunk out of your mind at one of the members’ birthday parties, challenging Seungkwan to an arm wrestling match after you had tried to beat a drunk and crying Hoshi in a dance battle without much success. You even competed in Scoups’ and Mingyu’s beer pong competition, making you drunker than you already were. Minghao hovers nearby, ready to jump in when necessary, keeping a close eye on your questionable actions. His phone is in his hands as he quietly films you from a distance, ready to present sober-you with the consequences of your drunken decisions.

❀ Nevertheless, he will interfere whenever you are about to do something too embarrassing; sure, he wants you to learn that you do stupid things when wasted, but he does not want you to be relentlessly teased by the other members for your intoxicated mishaps. Minghao will immediately take you back home and sober you up when he thinks that he has let you go on for long enough and that he has collected enough evidence to prove his claims. The next morning, he will lovingly confront you with reality, regardless of whether or not you are nursing a hangover, after which you agree that maybe, sometimes, he might have a point.

Seungkwan

❀ Seungkwan is honestly one of the best people to get drunk around. Sure, he drinks himself, but the moment he notices that he is getting tipsy, he slows down his drinking. He has had to deal with the members being drunk so often that he has developed successful ways of dealing with drunk people, making him well-equipped to deal with you. The moment you sheepishly admit that you are slightly drunk when you two are having dinner with the members, he will do his famous drunk check, rubbing over your forehead, making you giggle uncontrollably, before concluding that, indeed, you are gone.

❀ The entire evening, he will treat you like a little kid, listening to your drunken ramblings and providing you with sassy and funny remarks in exchange. He loves that you are laughing even more at his jokes than usual, and he will not miss a chance to elicit another fit of laughter out of you by doing something stupid. Seungkwan is not above embarrassing himself as long as it means that you are entertained.

❀ Honestly, I can’t imagine Seungkwan letting you do anything embarrassing. He will make sure that you sober up a little, providing you with water every now and then, and talk you out of whatever stupid plan you were about to execute. The moment he spots you climbing onto the bar, ready to execute your and Hoshi’s well-choreographed but slightly ridiculous dance routine, he will expertly redirect your attention to something else, making you completely forget about what you were about to do. As funny as he knows it would be for you to embarrass yourself, he knows you would be mortified the next day when you find out what you did the previous night and is fully committed to preventing that from happening. He would never let you do anything you would regret sober.

❀ Still, if you refuse to listen to him or you manage to do something stupid when he is momentarily distracted, he would not let you live it down.

Vernon

❀ Similarly to Jun, he is highly amused by your drunken escapades, curious to see what you will do. Where Jun, however, will join you in your antics, Vernon will mostly observe you, laughing his chair-screeching laugh as he does. He is not going to interfere whatsoever and lets you do whatever comes to your drunken mind, highly amused by whatever you are doing. Unless you are doing something illegal or dangerous, he is letting you do whatever your drunken brain convinces you to do.

❀ Getting drunk around Vernon means providing him with an arsenal of slightly embarrassing pictures that will be stored for later use. His phone is in his hand the whole evening, and he will make sure to snap thousands of images of your intoxicated self as you pose for him. You completely forget about him taking the pictures until he starts using them as stickers and memes in your private chat. Most of his reactions to your messages are you pulling a weird face. It wouldn’t have been that bad if he hadn’t started using them in the Seventeen group chat and as his phone’s background.

❀ As Vernon doesn’t strike me as someone who drinks often, he wouldn’t really be much help in sobering you up and making sure you won’t have too bad of a headache in the morning. Instead of making sure you drink enough water and get enough sleep, he convinces you to stay up late to watch a movie with him, entertained by your drunken commentary throughout, most of which he records. Needless to say, when morning arrives, you wake up with a lot of regrets.

Dino/Chan

❀ Dino is the king of being drunk; the amount of stories this dude has where he is wasted and doing something questionable are too many to count. Of course, he will be drunk with you, and of course, you two will create the best, most amusing drunk story ever. He had tried so hard to take the punishment shots for you whenever you lost a drinking game, not wanting you to get too drunk, resulting in both of you being incredibly intoxicated and hyping the other up to do some questionable stuff. The members tried to supervise the both of you, but you managed to escape when they got distracted for merely a second.

❀ In retrospect, your memories are kind of hazy on what had actually happened that night. In flashes, you remember a couple of rich people inviting you guys along, a boat, a garden gnome and something about a museum. Somehow, at the end of the night, you two end up in a fancy hotel, holding a garden gnome under your arm, all expenses paid, with the staff congratulating you on your engagement as you sport a very cheap plastic ring on your ring finger.

❀ In the morning, the two of you are nursing massive hangovers, utterly confused about where you are and how you managed to get there. Dino sees the thirty-plus missed calls from the members, knowing he is in a world of trouble, and someone mysteriously saved under the name Bob the Magician. The ring is so tight around your finger that you barely manage to get it off. Still, neither of you is planning on leaving any time soon, enjoying the luxury hotel the next couple of days as you try to piece together what transpired that night after ensuring the members that you are not dead in a ditch somewhere.

masterlist

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justdontaskme · 5 months

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Home for the Holidays

A/N: It's been so long! I didn't really expect to finish this in time, but had a spur of inspiration. For those who need a quick escape from the festivities. Please excuse the rustiness in my writing! Happy holidays!

You stood at the door, waving goodbye to your parents as they drove away. Once the car was out of sight, you stepped away from the cold and closed the door. Now that they’ve gone, it was quiet in the house, too quiet for your liking.

One thing people forget to mention about going home for the holidays after living abroad for so long was that your family still very much had their own lives here. They couldn’t always just drop whatever they were doing to hang out with you, and you didn’t want to ask that of them.

This year, your parents had asked that everyone in your family would be able to spend all of Christmas Day together, and all of your siblings agreed. It’s been some time since everyone had the chance to celebrate the holiday altogether.

It was always so hard to get your schedules to line up with such a big family. Each year, some of you would have Christmas Eve available, others would have Christmas Day available or vice versa. And once in a while, you have to miss the holiday altogether.

Unlike most of your siblings, you don’t live in your hometown or at least in the same state. For the past few years, you have been living your dream in Barcelona, playing on one of the best teams in the world with your girlfriend, Alexia Putellas.

So you flew home a few days early to spend time with the family while your girlfriend stayed home. When your parents had first proposed the idea of a full family Christmas, Alexia was up to the idea. However, as the holiday got closer, Alexia’s media presence was much requested, and after all was said and done, you knew she’d be too tired to meet you across the world.

After your many reassurances, she agreed it would be best for her to stay in Spain with her family this year. You just never knew that when you told her to stay that you’d be spending Christmas Eve alone.

As of now, your parents were out to some extended family’s house, which you chose to pass on since it’d be all adults and no cousins around. Two of your sisters were out at a Friendsmas party, one would be driving in much later tonight, and your older brothers weren’t coming in until tomorrow morning.

Even though your parents and sisters urged you to join them at their respective parties, you declined, not wanting to impose or feel awkward around people you weren’t so used to. However sad it was, you’d rather be alone tonight than to have to sit and pretend around people when you were actually just extremely uncomfortable.

Grabbing a blanket from the couch, you wrapped it around your shoulder as you walked into the kitchen looking for the food your mom said she had left for you. Spotting the home cooked meal with glee, you grabbed it and went to sit on the couch and watch a movie.

As the title screen played, you checked your phone, upset to once again see no messages or calls from your girlfriend.

You knew the time difference made things difficult, but Alexia had been radio silent for a long time now. The loneliness was slowly creeping up on you as you tried calling Alexia again, just for her to go straight to voicemail again.

It was about halfway through the movie when you heard the doorbell ring. At first, you figured it was just one of your sisters coming home early from their parties or your other sister arriving early. Reluctantly, you set your dinner to the side, readjusting the blanket around you as you went to answer the door.

“Hola,” your girlfriend standing across from you, not completely dressed for the weather if her little shivers were anything to go by.

To say you were shocked was a huge understatement. In fact, you just stood there, not saying anything as your brain tried to process what was going on.

“Can I come in?”

Silently, you stepped to the side, allowing her into your parent’s home. You watched, speechless, as she set her luggage to the side, immediately sighing in relief at the warmer temperature in the house.

“What are you doing here?” you whispered, afraid if you spoke any louder, you’d wake up from this dream, and Alexia would disappear.

“I canceled my last media appearance and hopped on a flight to come see you. I missed you,” she answered, holding her arms open for you.

Without a second thought you launched yourself into her arms, clinging onto her as you realized she was actually here.

“You’re supposed to be in Spain,” you said, your words muffled against her jacket.

“Christmas is your favorite holiday, and I wanted to spend it with you,” she said, leaning back far enough, one hand grabbing your chin and lifting it until your eyes locked on one another.

You shivered a little when she leaned down to press a kiss to your lips, her cold ones pressing against your warm ones. The slight hum coming from your girlfriend had you melting in her arms.

“Where is everyone else?” Alexia asked, stepping back slightly so she could shrug off her jacket.

“They had plans,” you explained, looking at the floor, slightly embarrassed to admit that you were here alone. Sensing this, Alexia immediately pulled you back into her arms, quietly assuring you that she was here now. “What about your mom and Alba? I thought you were spending it with them?”

“We agreed we’d celebrate when you and I get back, but they understood how much I wanted to be with you.”

“You’re such a softy, Ale,” you teased, secretly overjoyed by her decision to hop on a last minute flight to be with you.

“Only for you, mi amor.”

“I missed you,” you muttered into her shirt, squeezing her extra tight to express your gratitude for her last minute sacrifice.

She left a soft kiss against the top of your head before toeing off her shoes and leading you back to the living room where you had paused the movie.

“So what are we watching?” your girlfriend asked, “The Polar Express?”

“Well I was going to watch The Santa Claus movies, but my siblings said we had to rewatch those together so we could watch the show together.”

“There’s a show?” You nodded, scooping up your dinner and settling in on the couch as Alexia made herself comfortable next to you. You offered her some of your mom’s dinner, which she quickly opened her mouth for as you fed her a bite.

You sat there cuddled on the couch, watching movie after movie, taking the time to explain the cultural differences of Christmas in the U.S. and Spain.

Eventually, you saw how hard Alexia was fighting to stay awake, so without a word you shut off the TV, standing up and offering your hand to her. Gratefully, she took it and allowed you to walk her up to your childhood bedroom.

You couldn’t even describe how good it felt to have her sleeping next to you that night.

****

To no one’s surprise, you were the last one awake the next morning, with the rest of your siblings and their families finally making an appearance before you came down. Though they were surprised to find you coming down the stairs with your girlfriend following behind you. But nonetheless, they greeted her with arms wide open.

Thankfully, your family loved Alexia, so while they hadn’t expected it, they were more than happy to include her in the festivities. While the language barrier was still there, and the mistranslations were only funny to you since you were now pretty fluent in both Spanish and English, both parties did their best. Alexia got to practice her English, and your family got to learn new Spanish words.

After making your rounds of hellos to everyone, you finally took a seat at the table, waiting for the hearty breakfast cooked entirely by your mom and your brother who came in extra early for this.

While Alexia had a very loving and close family, she didn’t have one as big as yours. She loved to watch you messing around with your siblings, all of you bonding a lot more now in your older age than when you were kids.

The house was filled with so much noise. Your nieces and nephews were running around the house, playing and chasing after one another. Your parents were catching up with your sister-in-laws. And you and your siblings were laughing and yelling at one another between bites of food.

It was fun to watch as you and your sisters bickered nonstop over the most trivial things while your older brothers watched, egging the argument on with little comments here and there. Some people may consider this chaotic, but this was normal when you were all together like this. And that was how you all liked it.

Once everyone had their fill of food, you migrated into the living room. It was even more chaotic as everyone took turns taking photos in front of the Christmas tree. Thanks to your dad’s camera and tripod, there was a photo with everyone in it. Then it broke into just parents, you and your siblings, the grandbabies, and then individual family photos.

When it was time for you and Alexia to take your photo, you were pretty much begging your sister to allow you to take your niece into the photo. She was the newest addition to the family, joining just one month prior. This was your first time meeting her, and you had trouble putting the little angel down for more than a second.

“Get your own!” your brother jokingly shouted, as your sister scooped the precious baby out of your arms.

You pouted as your eyes followed the baby, your feet moving to stand next to your waiting girlfriend.

“Maybe we will,” Ale shouted back at him, wrapping you tight in her arms.

“Yeah!” you said, instantly brightening up and then turning to stick your tongue out at your brother. “What she said.”

The others laughed as your dad started clicking away at the camera.

“We’re still waiting for a wedding invitation,” your baby sister said, causing the others to agree.

“And I’m still waiting for a ring,” you told them, looking pointedly at your girlfriend, who instantly turned red at the attention as all eyes were now on her.

“We’ll get there,” she answered vaguely. “Soon, I promise.”

As soon as the last picture was taken, everyone swarmed the tree to open presents. As tradition dictated, the grandbabies were first to open their gifts.

There was nothing better than seeing all your nieces and nephews eyes shining bright with excitement as they all sat next to each other with presents in hand. Each new gift they opened was met with lots of thanks and instant show-and-tell.

Eventually, all the kids opened their gifts and vacated the living room with their new toys in tow as the adults waited their turn. You and your siblings presented your gifts to your mom and dad, deciding it was best to all chip in for one large present. After that, you and your siblings exchanged presents, most of them gag gifts as you all had an unspoken competition agreement that the one that elicited the biggest laugh won.

After your older sister won for the second time in a row, everyone dispersed to do their own things.

You were just about to go and snatch the baby again, but a hand pulled you back before you could escape.

“Wait, mi amor. You still have one more present,” Alexia said, her other hand hiding behind her back.

“Huh? I thought you and I agreed we’d do presents when I got back because I left your present back home,” you whined quietly, finding it unfair you weren’t able to give Alexia her gift right now.

“I can wait to open mine, but I really, really want to see you open yours,” she said, pulling the gift from behind her back, revealing a nicely sealed envelope. “Merry Christmas, mi vida.”

Carefully, you took the envelope from her, eyeing her suspiciously as you carefully opened it.

Your eyes rose in confusion when you noticed they were plane tickets for the break just after the season finishes. The second you saw that they were tickets to Hawaii, you teared up.

Unknown to everyone else, you and Alexia had extensive talks about the future and what that entailed. Alexia always said that when she planned to propose, you would know relatively when and where, but not how. One night, you and Alexia had been lying in bed, and she told you that she would propose in Hawaii but gave you nothing else.

She wanted you to have a heads up when it was coming, but also keep you on your toes. And this 14-day trip would do the trick because you wouldn’t know if it would happen at the beginning, middle, or end of the trip, let alone what Alexia would concoct to make it special. Yet you knew that as soon as you got back on the plane heading home, you’d have a ring on your finger and a fiancée by your side.

“Are you serious right now?” you said, choked up with emotion, glad that everyone was scattered around the house and couldn’t see you cry.

“So serious, mi amor,” she stepped up, cradling your face in her hands, “It’s been a long time coming, no?”

“Can’t wait,” you said, leaning forward to capture her lips in a passionate kiss that usually wouldn’t be appropriate in front of your family. But in that second, you didn’t care. You just needed her to know how much you cared for her, “I love you so much.”

“Me too,” she said, her grin mischievous and a laugh tumbling out of her mouth as you pushed away from her. “I’m kidding,” she said, pulling you back into her embrace.

“You better be,” you said, willingly falling back into her arms, but still refusing to look at her.

“I am. Te amo mucho, mi corazón.”

You pretended to still be disinterested in her antics, but she wore you down with kisses everywhere her lips could reach.

“I’ll forgive you this time, but only because you promised me a ring,” you teased, pecking her lips softly.

“I can deal with that.”

“Merry Christmas, Ale. Thank you for being here,” you said, hiding your face in her neck as you started to sway with her to the Christmas music playing in the background.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

#alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine

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moonbaetarot · 25 days

Text

Pick a pile

what this person thinks of you

1. 2. 3.

Pile 1

This person may be very Back and forth with thinking if they should make a move and talk to you or not. This person definitely wants to explore you and get to know you better. This person thinks you’re very beautiful and physically attractive. I feel like this person may give you the ick sometimes and your like “what are they doing”. They see you as wiser than your years and a lot more mature than them. This person thinks all the work they are putting in is going to be rewarding. They definitely want to make a move on you but there’s a sense of needing to hide or keep this connection a secret. I do feel like you and this person will be together but you have to resolve this problem first.

Thank you for reading loves! 🤍

Pile 2

There may have been an ending between you two. This people feels very unhappy and lonely without you.This person regrets and is feeling guilty about leaving you. You may have had so much to offer this person you were everything and more and this person still decide to walk away not even realizing what they had. This person let their temptations and fantasies get to them. They may have had a lot of options. This person is no good for you love Don’t lower your standards for anyone, what’s made for you will come. I feel like this person is still trying to reach out ask if you’re ok. For some reason this person is worrying about money or work. I do feel like this left a mark on you this situation really affected you.

Thank you for reading loves! 🤍

Pile 3

This person is a new lover or friend. This person feels right you may be someone who doesn’t like to let new people in because you’re afraid of being hurt but you just letting it happen and it feels right. I see you being really happy and feeling safe with this person. This person is definitely a new beginning for you. This person feels like a breath of fresh air. They see you as someone who likes to have fun you may go out with your friends a lot or like to go to parties and festivals. They see you as someone who is winning in life they feel like you got it all. You may have money/dress like you have money or you have a good job. This person wants to take you out on a date and have a nice time with you.

Thank you for reading loves! 🤍

#pick a card #pick a photo #pick a picture #pick a pile #pick an image #tarot cards #tarot deck #tarot reading #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #pick a reading #pick a deck #pick a crystal #pick a number #pick one #free tarot #daily tarot #tarot

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twogyuu · 7 months

Text

not really magic

Pairing: Vernon x fem!reader

Synopsis: In which Jeonghan runs out of babysitter options, so he drops Nina off with Vernon and his girlfriend. Little do either of them know, just maybe the little girl is more capable of making them confront the questions of their future than most adults.

Genre: Fluff, mild angst, good helping of crack, established relationship, featuring ex!JJK

Warnings: Profanity, McDonald's PlayPlace

WC: ~6.3k

A/N: It's Nina from Wonwoo's Tasty Milk (and Cereal) causing chaos again! This has been in the works for a hot minute! Unedited and VERY cringe-y, cheesy, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!! I'm kind of embarrassed to be publishing it tbh, but it's the most I've written in forever so I'm just publishing it and then running/hiding💀🤡 The thought that two people are mature enough to talk about these mundane things just makes me feel some type of way T^T

This wasn't inspired by any particular song, but kyungsoo's 'somebody' and sundial's 'rollercoaster' are quite fitting for this fic. Happy reading :)

. . . .

It was a well-known fact that Vernon was not very good with children.

He was not unkind or inconsiderate towards them by any means, but he simply didn’t know how to interact or communicate with them.

And to be frank, though you were a little better than him, it was only by a margin because you had younger siblings at some point (they’re now grown) and kid cousins. It has been a while since you’ve been around children in general – he’d imagine you were rusty to some end.

Consequently, it took him by surprise when Jeonghan called and you agreed to watch his four-year old daughter on Saturday while Jeonghan and his wife were at yet another wedding of their in-laws.

To be fair, however, Wonwoo and Leah were also attending, so their usual babysitter was already not an option. The backup, Mingyu and his best friend (cough, cough – situationship), were out of town attending a music festival. Seungkwan, the backup to the backup, was hosting someone’s bachelor party. The only other father of the group, Minghao, had his hands full with growing and surprisingly, wild twins. Seungcheol was an expecting parent – his wife could go into labor at any moment. The rest of the crew was only slightly less reliable than Vernon and you.

He guessed that extra one percent must count for something.

There was no doubt Jeonghan and his wife were still nervous about leaving Nina with the two of you – and rightfully so.

Vernon and you were relatively young – in age, spirit, and well, your relationship. At least from what Jeonghan could observe, the two of you were clearly not ready for kids, whether they be your own or Jeonghan’s.

Vernon was terrified and he had a feeling Mr. and Mrs. Yoon were too.

They perhaps trusted Vernon a little less than they did you because while Vernon was standing and staring down at Nina by the front door of your apartment, Jeonghan’s wife was going through a laminated sheet of instructions and tips with you in regards to caring for Nina in the next six hours. Hands on hips, Jeonghan was standing over his wife’s shoulder, offering supportive nods and stern, unhelpful ‘mhm’s’ to back her up.

“Hello,” Nina finally squeaked, peering up at Vernon.

She was definitely Jeonghan’s kid – it was in the eyes: brown, round, and innocent, but with a hint of mischief glaring in the corner of her irises.

“Hey,” Vernon greeted back casually.

“Where’s Uncle Wonwoo?” she asked. Her eyes wandered from the tall man and glossed over the unfamiliar apartment.

“Uh,” Vernon panicked and stalled in his reply.

Why the heck was she asking about Wonwoo? Vernon can’t remember already knowing his babysitter by name when he was four.

“Uncle Wonwoo has a giant teddy bear in his house!” she marveled. Her tone was quick to dip into disappointment. “But I don’t see him here.”

Vernon felt his breath grow more shallow. By the power of Boo Seungkwan, he hoped this kid wouldn’t already start crying on him.

He had to make her feel better. How do people make kids happy?

Games? They like games, right?

“Do you wanna play rock, paper, scissors?” Vernon blurted.

Nina peered up at him again, face twisting as she processed the situation and her emotions – confused, curious, and amused.

He would take it.

Vernon silently held out his fist to the girl, waiting for her to take the bait.

“What are you guys doing?” your voice floated into the vicinity, breaking the silence and awkwardness.

Nina and Vernon looked over to find you standing with Jeonghan and his wife on either side of you. Vernon noted how the way his wife was dressed in a light blue and him in a dark suit, was eerily reminiscent of an angel and devil on your shoulders.

“He asked if I wanted to play block, paper, scissors,” Nina explained quietly. She looked back nervously at Vernon.

Granted Nina had not been around Vernon and his girlfriend a lot, her uneasy behavior around Vernon did not go unnoticed by Jeonghan. Nina was smart: wary of strangers, but never shy like this. Perhaps shy wasn’t the right word, but there definitely something going on in that little head of hers. As if she was calculating and observing, trying to decipher Vernon.

You raised a curious eyebrow in the direction of your boyfriend.

“It’s rock, paper, scissors, Nini,” Jeonghan corrected his daughter softly. He skirted around you to come pick her up, a quiet grunt leaving his lips when he heaped her up into his arms. Nina curled into her dad’s chest.

“We’ll be back in a little while, baby,” Mrs. Yoon walked over to the father-daughter duo. She rubbed the little’s cheeks with the back of her finger to soothe her.

Nina lifted her head from her dad’s shoulder and whispered a little too loudly. “What if they’re not fun like Uncle Wonwoo?”

“Nina,” her mom chided.

“Dang, little girl,” you said under your breath.

Vernon bit the inside of his cheek, holding back the urge to laugh. You were blunt for better or for worse.

Jeonghan, her father a little more understanding knowing Vernon for longer, rubbed the little girl’s back. “They’ll be . . . just fine.”

. . . .

Vernon was not sure what Nina did exactly when she went over to Wonwoo’s place, but it must’ve been comparably better than what she was doing here.

Shortly after Jeonghan left, the little girl dumped out the contents of her bag and began to busy herself with the rather few activities she brought along: a coloring book and a set of markers, a hard-covered picture book with a dog on the cover, a doll, and five pieces of those giant Legos. She burned through each item pretty fast – Vernon figured you could only stack the different colored blocks in various order so many times before you got bored.

It was fortunate that Nina already had lunch before coming over and her mother had packed a simple snack of apples and peanut butter to bridge her to dinner. However, as the clock ticked closer to 6PM and the little girl was growing bored, you could also tell she was getting hangry.

Vernon had tasked you with entertaining and playing with Nina. It wasn’t fair, but he figured Nina would like you better than him. He would just observe from afar and take some notes for next time.

“Can I ask you something, Miss Y/N?” Nina wondered aloud. She brushed her doll’s hair with a small purple plastic brush.

Sitting criss-crossed across from her, you hummed and nodded. “Sure, squirt – what is it?”

You didn’t think much of it. A four-year-old’s questions can’t be that deep.

“Are you and Uncle Vernon like my mommy and daddy?” she looked up at you innocently. “And like Uncle Wonwoo and Auntie Leah? Why did mommy tell me to call you ‘miss’ instead of auntie?”

You choked, feeling your cheeks grow warm as you glanced over your shoulder at Vernon. Sure enough, his eyes were lifted from his phone and boring holes through your back – not without the slightest smirk and quirk of an eyebrow. He waited patiently for your answer. The question was honest and innocent – he wasn’t sure what was so funny about it to him or embarrassing to you, but it was.

“Um, kind of,” you replied slowly.

“Huh?” she crinkled her nose.

“Uncle Vernon is, err . . . my boyfriend,” you explained, wondering if she understood the concept of stages in relationships.

“Boyfriend?” Nina repeated. “Like . . . a friend boy?”

“N-no! No, no!” you exclaimed. Now, you didn’t want to give Jeonghan’s kid the wrong idea about being friends with boys meant a romantic relationship. “N-not . . . really.”

“Then you’re like mommy and daddy?” she said more certainly this time.

“No,” you sighed, “Your mommy and daddy are married. Wonwoo and Leah are engaged – they’re going to get married. Uncle Vernon and I . . . like each other a lot but we. . . aren’t there yet.”

“Will you get married?” Nina asked innocently.

“Um,” your voice trailed off, feeling your heart race at her bluntness. That decision wasn’t entirely up to you, but how did you explain that to a four-year-old? Gosh, why did she ask such hard questions in the first place?

The fortunate thing about being four was that your attention span wasn’t very long.

Nina huffed, setting her doll onto the floor. “Miss Y/N, I’m hungry,” she rubbed her tummy. “Can we eat?”

You let out a small sigh of relief. Classic Yoon: puts you in your doom, but somehow also saves you from it.

“Sure baby,” you reply, you threw Vernon a quick look over your shoulder. “Let’s see what’s in the fridge.”

“Um wait–” Vernon rose from his chair.

“Yay!” Nina cheered. She stood up excitedly and grabbed your hand. Despite her immense effort, not surprisingly, you don’t move much. “Does Uncle Vernon cook well? Uncle Wonwoo doesn’t, but Auntie Leah does.”

“Y/N, hold on,” Vernon jogged over and grabbed your other hand.

You paused in your stride and peered at him through your lashes. You waited patiently for him to continue. Nina looked up the same and impatiently swung your linked hands around.

“Um,” he played with your fingers quietly. His cheeks felt warm as he confessed, “We . . . I-I, um, haven’t gone grocery shopping yet.”

“Oh,” you said softly, putting the pieces together slowly. “So . . . what you’re saying is you don’t have food?”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

“Vernon,” you started. There was a scolding tone to it. “I told you to grab a few things before Nina came over.”

“I know, I know! I just got carried away with work and stuff,” he explained.

You pulled your hand away from him, pressing your lips into a thin line. You can’t believe he didn’t do it! You had reminded him three days in advance and all the days to follow after. Per usual, your mind spun to the future. If he could pull through for this, what did it mean for when the two of you live together?

Just as you opened your mouth to say something, Nina suddenly let out a high-pitch shrill. “Yay!”

You both startled and looked down at the little girl, confused.

“Let’s have McDonald’s for dinner,” she stated firmly.

Nina grinned wide. There was a mischievous glint in her dark brown eyes, one that was all too reminiscent of her father’s.

She was a Yoon through and through, alright.

. . . .

A quarter pounder, double cheeseburger, large fries, twenty pieces of McNuggets with one of each of the special sauces, Fanta, topped with a chocolate milk that Nina was sipping on was spread out on the two square tables you pushed together to hold all your food. This looked like it could feed a family of six, yet you were only three people. Originally, the plan was just to get Nina a Happy Meal, you and Vernon with your own individuals, but the little girl insisted on additional McNuggets and fries too – when you were in the bathroom.

You were quick to learn that Vernon had little to no immunity to the little girl. It was understandable, but you hated playing the “bad cop” and disciplining her.

“Wanna see a magic trick, Nina?” Vernon asked with his mouth full.

She grinned at him, excitedly.

Vernon’s expression mirrored her own and held up a McNugget in front of his palm. “Watch carefully.”

Nina nodded while stuffing a fry into her mouth.

There was a dramatic pause, his free hand covering then uncovering the McNugget like he was casting some sort of spell on it. You too found yourself curiously watching from the opposite end of the table, your chewing slowing.

His hand blocking the view of the McNugget, though you could clearly see his face from where you were sitting, he quickly stuffs the piece in his mouth. Vernon smiled brightly, with his mouth closed as he chewed, clapping his hands together as if he just puffed it into Dragon Land instead of his mouth.

Nonetheless, Nina being a kid and equally fond of your boyfriend, marveled excitedly.

You scoffed, shaking your head, mumbling a quiet ‘seriously’ under your breath. Vernon must have heard it though – his eyes flickered up at you momentarily while taking Nina’s hand in his own.

You reached over and adjusted Nina’s tray. “C’mon Nina, finish your apple dippers – we gotta go.”

She turns her attention away from Vernon and back to you. She stared at you with wide-eyes, mildly creepily – you knew this look. It was reminiscent of when Jeonghan knew he just pissed off his wife, but she doesn’t know yet, and he was trying to butter her up before then (it never works though).

Nina’s chubby little fingers clung tightly onto your forearm, nails digging into your skin as she jumped and whined.

“Miss Y/N, do we have to go so soon?” she asked cautiously. She craned her neck towards the PlayPlace to one side of you. “Can we stay a bit longer? If I finish my Apple Dippers?”

Now you finally understood why Nina wanted to not only eat from McDonald’s, but also in it.

“Nina,” you grabbed her wrist in an attempt to calm her down, “There’s a reason why your mommy doesn’t let you go inside the playground.”

“PlayPlace!” she was quick to correct you.

You huffed and repeated after her, “PlayPlace. Nina – we’re not going to disobey your mommy.”

“Why?! Daddy does it all the time,” she protested.

You heard Vernon snort from the other side of the linoleum table. He was halfway through another Mcnugget, doing his best to suppress the grin forming on his face.

“Your daddy and I are not the same,” you told her. “Besides,” you wrinkle your nose, “It’s disgusting in there – feet and all.”

“Miss Y/N!” she threw her head back in a howl.

She gave you her best puppy eyes, but you didn’t budge.

As if a light bulb went off in her mind, she perked up and let go of you. Timidly, Nina circles around and approaches the other side of the table. Hands clasped behind her back, her fingers tangling with the strings that pulled her dress back, she peered up innocently at Vernon and offered him a friendly smile.

“Uncle Vernon?” she asked. Her tone was completely changed from when she was begging you just seconds earlier.

“Hm?” he hummed, oblivious as day to the little girl’s advances.

“Will you play with me?” Nina continued.

“Uh,” Vernon’s eyes flickered up to you and you simply leaned back in your seat, getting comfortable as you crossed your arms over your chest.

To be frank, taking care of Nina with Vernon did not feel like it was with Vernon. From home to here, you were the little girl’s main companion on top of making sure she was safe, hydrated, and well-fed. Vernon trailed the two of you like a lost shadow. You were annoyed at his lack of contribution, to say the least. It’s not that you didn’t like Nina and you were trying to be understanding of Vernon, but taking care of a child (and low-key him) was difficult – your sanity mattered to! You weren’t Wonowoo – you could only say and take so much about Pokemon!

Perhaps it was already too soon to be thinking about this, but it was difficult to ignore the voice at the back of your head, nagging about what this meant for you and Vernon in the future. Granted you both have only been dating for a little over a year, the question of marriage and kids were far and few. When they did arrive, it usually was in the form of a loose tease from Seungkwan about how the two of you were hopeless as parents. Vernon would just shake his head and laugh it off.

He never seemed to take this topic quite seriously. Your passing comments about cute kids at the zoo or how the Penguins of Madagascar showing was filled with children and their parents, were taken lightly, when perhaps you didn’t really want them to be.

You knew you wanted at least one kid, but did Vernon?

You needed to ask and you were aware, but you thought it was probably pretty ridiculous to bring this up already. I mean, this might not be forever, right?

A lot has already changed in this year.

A lot can change in a year.

Your internal struggles aside, you were interested to see how Vernon handled Nina on his own.

“Uncle Vernon?” Nina asked again, “Pretty please? I’ll eat all my apple dippers!”

“But your mom and Y/N . . .” his voice trailed off as he echoed your concern.

“It’s okay! Mommy’s not here and I have you and Miss Y/N! And there are nets and mats,” she pointed out to him.

Vernon hesitated – why was it so difficult for him to turn her down? He was an adult after all.

“I mean,” he rubbed the back of his head and looked up at you again. “I guess?”

You smirked, cocking an eyebrow at him. Maybe, out of spite, you’ll let this one go for once. Vernon can explain to Mrs. Yoon why her daughter reeks of feet and grease when they come to pick her up later tonight.

“Whoo!” Nina cheered as she ran back to her seat next to you. She started shoving the last of her apple slices in her mouth in a haste, not even caring for the caramel dip.

“Slow down, Nina,” you warned.

“Uncle Vernon is the coolest!” she shouted instead. She grinned happily with pieces of apple stuck in her teeth, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

. . . .

It was an instant regret for Vernon.

Currently, he was trapped in one of the blue plastic cube bridge pieces at the very top. He was far too grown for the PlayPlace and could not bulldoze through it like Nina. While the little girl easily maneuvered her way around the maze, Vernon could hardly crawl through it. He tried to curl into a small ball and waddle through, but that wasn’t helpful either. The extra creaking with each step was also not very reassuring. The only nice thing was that there weren’t other children in the PlayPlace right now; no douchey eight-year-old to hurry the fuck up.

“Uncle Vernon, come on!”

But, there was Nina.

Her head popped into view, the netting separating him and her. “You’re so slow! We have to climb through all of this before Miss Y/N tells us to go!”

Vernon shifted uncomfortably, feeling his neck tighten from the cramped position he was in. “Maybe we should go,” he tried.

“Nope, nope!” Nina shook her head furiously. “We’re already inside! There’s a slide at the end.” She curled her fingers through the netting and jumped excitedly. “We can go down and run back in before she sees us.”

Vernon followed her nervous gaze towards you down on the floor. You’re seated at the same table the three of you were just eating at, scrolling through your phone. Despite your calm expression, Vernon could definitely tell, something wasn’t sitting right with you.

“Let’s go!” Nina shouted.

“Nina, wait–”

However, the little girl was already crawling down the narrow corridor at the speed of a lab mouse trained to recognize a maze.

Vernon sighed, sparing you one last glance before he continued. You’re watching him this time though. It was comical the way the contraption creaked again and the corner of your lips tweaked up as if to mock him.

He looked away and followed in the general direction Nina had headed. He really shouldn’t be in here – what if one of the screws were loose and all just collapsed with one misstep?

Vernon felt guilty for thinking such thoughts knowing Jeonghan’s daughter was in here with him right now. He had to keep her safe! He can’t be manifesting these disasters. Turning the corner towards a light, Vernon decided that the goal would to slide out of here with Nina and not go in. Maybe, he could say it was because he would get in trouble with you or something.

“Boo!”

“Agh! What the fuck!” Vernon shouted. He tumbled towards an opening, hand resting on his chest. Searching his surroundings, he found Nina beside him, giggling.

“Language!” he heard you shout in the distance.

“Fuck!” Nina repeated. She hid a chuckle behind her hand.

“Don’t say that, Nina,” Vernon scolds her breathlessly.

“But why?” she asked. “You did – do people say it when they’re scared? Fuck!”

“Oh my god – Nina, stop,” he shook his head anxiously. “Th-that’s only a word, adults are allowed to say, okay? If you say it in front of Miss Y/N or your parents, you’re going to be in big trouble.”

“I can say it with you though, right, Uncle Vernon?” she whispered. “Fuck!”

“No, you cannot,” Vernon stated sternly. He looked at the opening. This must be the slide. He pointed to it and told the little girl, “Let’s go down, okay? I’ve had enough fun for tonight.”

“Aw,” Nina whined, “Already?”

There was another groan from the equipment – louder this time. He cannot stay here much longer.

“Yes,” Vernon nudged her towards the opening. “You first, I’ll be right behind you.”

“Fine,” she pouted. Her short arms hang onto the top rim, swinging back and forth to build momentum before launching herself down. “Whee!”

When Vernon heard her land on the other side, he stuck his legs, one by one, into the tube and tried to push himself down.

Key word – tried.

He got stuck after sliding probably two feet. Vernon groaned and threw his head back. “Seriously?”

“Uncle Vernon?” Nina’s voice echoed through the slide. “Are you coming?”

“Y-yeah,” he used the heel of his Converse to nudge himself a little further. “Just stuck.”

“Oh no!” Nina cried. He heard her step into the slide again. “Should I come help you?”

“No, no, no!” Vernon exclaimed desperately, “Go back to Y/N – I’ll be out soon. Promise.”

The last thing he wanted to happen was for Nina to be crawling up and he suddenly crashed into her.

“Okay.”

He let out a small breath of relief when he heard a soft landing of her shoes on the foam carpeting. Vernon inches down slowly, finally gaining some traction. He started to speed up with the combination of pushing with his hand, pulling himself forward, and static. When he saw the clearing, relief washed over him.

However, as luck would have it, of course, he’s too damn tall for the opening. Vernon was cramped at the opening, knees tucked and arms squeezed between his body and the plastic. His neck was craned to the right – he could hardly look up at you and Nina who were hand-in-hand watching him.

“Um,” he smiled sheepishly, “Help?”

Nina was a little faster than you, rushing over to his aid. Her added weight as she climbed onto the landing must’ve been the straw that broke the camel’s back because Vernon heard a sickening crack and his arm suddenly felt a little looser and freer.

Well, fuck.

. . . .

“Y/N!”

You were bent over, hastily adjusting Nina’s sweater before the three of you left McDonald’s. You were irritable after quite literally breaking Vernon free from the PlayPlace slide. It was embarrassing to have to explain to the teen McDonald’s employee that your boyfriend created a crack in the slide, when there was a sign that quite literally said no one older than eight years-old was allowed to enter the contraption.

When you look up, your eyes immediately widen as you’re greeted with the sight of your ex, Jungkook.

His hair was a little longer now, and permed, the tips of his bangs hanging over his bright doe eyes. His fashion didn’t seem to change – still sporting the simple jeans and baggy t-shirts; a plaid flannel was tied to waist. What took you aback, when perhaps it shouldn’t have, was the petite girl in a white sundress who wrapped her hand tightly around Jungkook’s arm when she saw you.

All thoughts of Nina, who was standing between you and Vernon, fled your mind. You stiffened, unsure of how to respond and what to say, other than a strained ‘hi.’

It wasn’t that Jungkook has a sore spot in your memory – in fact, your breakup was mutual and as good as anyone could ask it to be. After four years of dating since high school, you realized you both grew into different people, and therefore, apart in college. It was a mutual loss of feelings for one another, a mutual agreement that you should go your separate ways. Of course, you were sad for a short bit, but nothing of a heartache.

Nonetheless, there was a part of you that wished he didn’t see you when you were upset with your current partner. Jungkook probably did not have those sort of malicious thoughts, like ‘didn’t know how good she had it with me,’ and it was most certainly all in your head.

Or perhaps it was you? You wanted to show him you were doing well, but you couldn’t fake it at this moment.

All in all, the reappearance of your ex, only made you feel more insecure for some reason. Maybe Vernon wasn’t the right person for you even if deep down you wanted him to be. You knew your break up with Vernon would be much worse than the one with Jungkook.

“Nice to see you again,” Jungkook tried. His eyes flickered to Vernon – they weren’t close, but they knew each other peripherally from mutual friends. Jungkook quickly added, “The both of you.”

“Likewise,” Vernon piped up in a neutral tone.

“Um,” Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck, looking from Vernon to you and back. Momentarily, he glossed over Nina, an idea of the situation clearly forming in his head. “Are the two of you . . .?” his voice trailed off.

It must’ve come as a surprise to see you and Vernon together like this for neither of you were close in university. This relationship was almost a surprise to you and Vernon, yourselves. You couldn’t blame Jungkook for being puzzled.

At this, Vernon reached for your hand and cleared his throat. He gave you a firm squeeze, resting his free hand on Nina’s shoulder. To be frank, Vernon didn't care what idea exactly Jungkook was getting – the point was, you were together. Boyfriend-girlfriend, husband-wife, father-mother. Jungkook could think Nina was somehow your kid and he wouldn’t mind.

“We are," Vernon finally answered firmly.

You turned to your boyfriend with wide eyes.

“Oh,” Jungkook said softly. “I’m happy for you guys.”

“Thanks, I am too,” he looked back at you nonchalantly before nodding in Jungkook’s direction. “On that note, we should be on our way.” He ushered Nina towards the door. “Enjoy your meal.”

. . . .

When the three of you returned to your apartment, you started preparing Nina for bed. It was clear to Vernon that something was bothering you – you were quiet for the rest of the evening, diving head first in taking care of Nina. And to be honest, something bothered Vernon too since encountering Jungkook.

Vernon did not envy others, nor did he claim to be perfect. It wasn’t that he was jealous of Jungkook and the unknown, presumably happy past that you had with him. What happened, happened and you were with Vernon now. He’d like to think you were satisfied with this relationship just as much as him. Nothing would change that. Vernon was content with who he was, who he had become, and who he was next to you. Nonetheless, Vernon was only human – insecurities were inevitable despite his best efforts.

He knew this turbulence making him solemn was irrational. You had not given him a reason to doubt you and he never did to begin with. Despite knowing this, it didn’t make this feeling any less real.

Did you regret breaking up with Jungkook? Was Jungkook a better boyfriend than Vernon?

From what Vernon has heard through the grapevine, Jungkook happened to be every girl’s dream in university. Good-looking and adventurous, yet still respectful and caring.

Vernon thought he looked alright, but his style was unconventional. He liked to take the city bus around at night if that counts as being adventurous?

For fucks sake, Vernon was no Jeon Jungkook. Vernon was in fact just stuck in a slide today.

Though he knew it was unproductive to ponder these things, it was what kept him preoccupied as he put Nina to bed.

“You should kiss Miss Y/N,” Nina stated randomly.

Vernon furrowed his brows at the little girl.

“She looks sad and you do too,” Nina explained. She laid her small hand over Vernon’s. “That’s what daddy does when mommy is sad.”

“I think it’s time for you to go to sleep,” Vernon sighed, pulling the blanket up to cover her chest.

“Do you love Miss Y/N, Uncle Vernon?” Nina asked.

God, the gall of kids – always asking the hardest, but most important questions obliviously.

“Miss Y/N said earlier that you’re her boyfriend,” Nina continued. She kicked her feet under the covers. “Do you have to love each other to be boyfriends? Kind of like mommy and daddy are mommy and daddy because they love each other? Or Uncle Wonwoo and Auntie Leah? Miss Y/N didn’t tell me earlier when I asked about getting married.”

Did he love you? Did he want to marry you?

Vernon hesitated to answer and to be frank, he hated that he was. However, it wasn’t because he didn’t – these questions of the future were just overwhelming and he enjoyed what you had now. Alas, if things were to progress, he’d have to have answers to them soon.

“If I’m being honest, I don’t know, kid,” Vernon mumbled. He planted a soft kiss on her forehead. “Good night, Nina.”

He didn’t wait for her to reply, turning and making his way to the door.

“You should still kiss her, Uncle Vernon!” Nina whispered in the dark. “Good night!”

. . . .

When Vernon exited your bedroom where Nina was residing for the rest of the evening, he found you sitting on the kitchen counter. Your head is hung, eyes swarmed with questions like his own. Your legs swing back and forth, gently knocking against the cupboards. There’s an open bag of Cheeze-Its sitting next to you.

Vernon walked over, quietly and cautiously. He knew you knew he was present, but didn’t acknowledge him. Tenderly, Vernon reached for your hand, loosely weaving his fingers in between your own. Eyes slowly rising to look at you, he mindlessly ran thumb along the side of your hand. He offered you a wistful smile as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear with his other hand. His touch lingered across your cheek.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked softly.

You paused for a moment, eyes flickering up to the ceiling before falling to your lap again. You let out a heavy breath. Your heart swelled, appreciating how he always made these kinds of moments feel a little easier.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered.

“For what?” Vernon asked despite having a pretty good idea of what you were referring to.

“What happened at McDonald’s, running into Jungkook,” you explained, “Today.”

He hummed in understanding. “What about today, exactly?”

It was hard to hold your gaze – it was scary, but he knew he had to. He tried his best to put on an encouraging expression, knowing that this conversation, and further, this relationship would not go anywhere if neither of you were present, physically and mentally, and trying to avoid it.

Only the ticking of the wall clock filled the room, deafeningly so. It was slowly drowned out by the sound of blood starting to rush in his ears, tension growing thick with each passing second.

Your voice barely above a whisper, you took a shaky breath and confessed, “I like you a lot, Chwe . . . and,” you inhaled sharply, squeezing his hand. “That terrifies me.” You swallowed harshly, “Because what if you don’t feel the same? Or we want different things? I think I’d be . . .heartbroken.” A melancholic chuckle left your lips and you shook your head. “That's why sometimes, I feel like I treat you like such - we get too close and I push you away.”

The fear in losing him was evident in the terror that etched its way in between the space of your brows. Vernon was sympathetic; simultaneously, his heart swelled like a balloon rapidly being filled with water to the rim, threatening to burst at one final drop. The adrenaline that rushed through his veins felt like that of being confessed to by a middle school crush behind the bleachers of the soccer field, except, well, you and him were already together.

“I was worried there for a second,” Vernon stated truthfully.

Your eyes whipped up.

He played with your fingers. “I thought you were regretting dating me for a sec.”

“Oh?” you said softly.

“I was kind of not the best boyfriend today either and then we saw Jungkook and I thought maybe you felt differently about me,” he explained.

“Vernon, no!” your hands reached up to cup his face.

“I mean, can you blame me?” he chuckled half-heartedly, “I got stuck in a slide when you told us not to go.”

“I think today,” started slowly, “Made the both of us think a lot about us and what the future holds.”

“So, it wasn’t just me,” Vernon acknowledged quietly. He thought to himself momentarily before continuing. “What do you want?” You stared at him owlishly, your desires on the tip of your tongue, but fearful to share them with him. “We can’t move past this if we don’t talk about it.”

When you still didn't reply, Vernon offered, “I can tell you what I want?”

You nodded once.

“I think dating you for a few more years sounds okay,” he started, staring off to the side. He nodded, better affirming his words.

He paused, making you grow anxious – does that mean he planning on breaking up with you?

“And then, maybe . . . being married sounds nice too – nice is an understatement,” the words felt unfamiliar as they fell from his lips, but he kind of liked it. “It seems far away, but I’d really love that.”

This was something he hadn’t told anyone before because he never felt quite the same with them as he did with you. It wasn’t just easy and comfortable being with you – it was something more. It was in hard moments like this, where these conversations were difficult, but you both still managed. It was in lighter moments, where he could enjoy your company and feel relaxed. It was everything in between.

Call him corny, but maybe the word ‘love’ can’t encompass it all that he felt for you.

His face stretched into a grin when you chortle and shake your head. Playfully, you push him away, but Vernon was quick to catch onto your wrists. “You did really well with Nina today.”

“I think she liked you more than me,” you mumbled.

“What do you think of Nina?” he asked.

“She’s Jeonghan’s daughter, alright,” you joked.

“She did suggest I kiss you tonight,” Vernon remarked, remembering his chat with the little girl before this.

“Well,” you wrap your arms around his neck, “Do you . . . want to?”

Vernon answered by leaning in, lightly pressing his lips against yours. It’s fleeting, but still filled with the same sincerity as every other passionate kiss you’ve shared before.

“If you want kids though, I’m not sure I’m ready for them yet,” Vernon said when you pulled away.

“Oh with how you broke that slide, that’s certain,” you joked.

“Does that mean you do?”

“A family? With you?” you wrinkled your nose playfully. “Nonsense.”

He knew that look – when you don’t really mean what you say, but rather the opposite. Despite all the angst prior, this conversation was surprisingly easy to have. Maybe that was the lesson to be learned: not perfection, but just doing.

Vernon chuckled, about to lean for another kiss when suddenly Nina’s familiar shrill shattered the moment. He jumped away from you as if you were delinquents caught by your mothers making out in the kitchen.

“Mommy said we shouldn’t sit there like that!” she squealed, her fingers pointing at you on the counter.

"Nina, you're supposed to be sleeping," you scold.

“We shouldn’t sit there like that though,” Vernon acknowledged. He walked over and helped you down, not without pulling you into his side though. You’re a little stunned with him being so affectionate suddenly – not that he never was, but he usually showed it in other ways, smaller gestures like the kiss he’s pressing into your temple now.

Nina eyes the both of you curiously, the situation being pieced together slowly in her tiny head. It was visible when she put it all together, her eyes lit up.

“Are guys getting married now!?”

Or not.

. . . .

Epilogue

“Hey dad,” Nina tapped Jeonghan’s forearm. Pushing a piece of kimchi between his lips, he hummed softly and glanced over at his daughter. “Do you want to see a magic trick? Uncle Vernon taught me.”

When did Vernon start learning magic tricks?

“Sure,” he nodded, curious to see what his friend taught his daughter.

With her training chopsticks with Ryan Bear on one end, she holds up a slice of pork in front of her hand. Shielding it with her other hand, she stuffed the piece of meat quickly in her mouth and shouted, “Ta-da!”

Jeonghan swallowed his food harshly and narrowed his eyes at his daughter. “Squirt – what?”

“Did you like it?” she grinned happily, returning to her food.

“You j-just . . . ate your pork though?” Jeonghan stated.

“Mhm! Magic!” Nina chirped. She giggled happily and took Jeonghan by surprise by shouting, "Fuck!"

Jeonghan nearly spat his water out, the profanity ringing in his ears. "Who taught you that word!?"

"Uncle Vernon too!" she kicked her feet happily.

Jeonghan ran a hand over his face and mumbled under his breath, “Oh dear - Yoon Nina, in this household, we do not use that kind of language do you hear?"

Nina's joy simmered down and she shrank back, nodding understandably. She knew when her dad used that voice, she shouldn't push her boundaries further.

His wife popped her head into the room upon hearing his brewing.

Jeonghan sighed exasperatedly and turned to his wife, "I think we should stop hiring my friend’s as Nina’s babysitters.”

#vernon x reader #vernon fluff #vernon angst #vernon scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen angst

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matan4il · 2 months

Text

Ahead of Eurovision 2024

I was listening to Eden Golan's song, Hurricane.

youtube

At first, it didn't seem to me like it stands out. I'm one of the people who prefers my Eurovision song less on the power ballad side of things, so this being in that genre...

But then I found myself haunted by the lyrics. By specific lines. Singing them to myself quietly, over and over again. I had to listen to the song again.

And it got to me, it really did, I haven't stopped listening to or singing it since, so I guess I needed to share a bit.

There's more than one hint that this is a song about mourning and survival. Lines like, "someone stole the moon tonight, took my light" can be interpreted in more than one way. But they become less ambiguous when combined with ones like, "holding on in this mysterious ride," when the mysterious ride we're all on is life itself. It makes it clearer that this isn't just a break up song. Then it becomes even more explicit with, "we shall pass, but love will never die."

The imagery in the videoclip is also telling, that ending when Eden is looking up, much like many do when talking to or thinking about a loved one that we have lost.

But the line that gets to me the most, the first one that took over my brain? "I'm still broken from this hurricane."

We all get what this song is about, in the wake of what happened here in October 2023, and since. And I am broken. So many Jews and Israelis are. As one survivor said (his words have haunted me first, then I heard them echoed in this song): "We are broken, but strong." That's exactly what the song is about, deeply feeling the pain and the tragedy, the loss, this impossible to accept grief, and still trying to find a way to live with it, to survive not just the horrors of a massacre, but the trauma that follows it as well.

The other line that affects me the most is directly related to this, "baby, promise me you'll hold me again." Because I have spent the last 5 months watching the news, seeing the funerals, and hearing people breaking down, as they say a variation of this to their loved ones, who are gone. Asking for a promise that can't be made, or fulfilled, and knowing that it can't, even as the request is being uttered. I hear their voices breaking around their words, whenever I listen to or sing this line.

The videoclip is also infused with imagery that's related to the massacre of over 360 people at the Nova music festival (and the kidnapping of 40 more from that scene), which is in a way very apt for music lovers. The images show dancers in what looks a lot like a nature party, just like Nova, and since the massacre happened when the music festival was meant to reach its peak, a long night of music and dancing climaxing around sunrise, that's exactly what we see, a move from the "moon light" throughout most of the videoclip, to the "sunrise" at the end.

But in the case of this "sunrise," Eden can smile, she can find comfort, she can sing a few words in Hebrew that reflect hope, about that little light that's left even when the moon's been stolen.

She's bringing the song to a beautiful, emotional closure.

Obviously, it can't be ignored that this is a re-write. The original song (which was called October Rain) was disqualified as "political."

You can read the original lyrics here. They're almost identical. I heard an interview with the song writers, who said they weren't even told what got their song disqualified, so they had to guess what the Eurovision Broadcasting Union had in mind, when they called an expression of our pain, and our strength at the face of that, "political."

I admit, I find it very hard to accept this disqualification. It's not like there isn't precendent for countries at the Eurovision expressing pain (including the kind originating from political circumstances) through their songs.

If you take the wildly popular Ukraine 2007 entry, the singer was quite obviously singing "Russia goodbye," with allusions to Russian interference in Ukrainian elections while wearing outfits reminiscent of Soviet uniforms. And that wasn't called political, because "Russia goodbye" was changed into gibberish that still sounds like it (and in recent performances, it was blatantly sang like that).

If you take the much talked about Croatia 2023 entry, it was about the Russian invasion of Ukraine in 2022, and also criticized Belarus' tyrant kissing Russia's tyrant's ass, by referencing the tractor that Lukashenko bought for Putin, while the band members played with military weapons and uniforms on stage. And that wasn't disqualified for being political.

If you take the Ukraine 2016 entry, that was explicitly singing about their pain over what the Russians did to the Tatar population in Crimea in 1944, with clear allusions to what Russians did when they invaded Ukraine's Crimean peninsula in 2014. And that wasn't called "political" either.

Even this year, we have the entry from The Netherlands being political, with both the lyrics and videoclip referencing the borderless Europe (which IS a political issue, as Brexit, if nothing else, had made clear). I've seen people pointing out online that the song isn't political, because the whole borderless Europe thing is a metaphor for the singer's grief for his father/parents. I have no problem with that reading, but let's acknowledge that there could have been many metaphors for that, and he chose a political one.

So why is Jewish pain treated differently? Why is our pain labeled "political," when the metaphors for it in the songs aren't that, there are no specific political mentions of people or organizations in the song (unlike the Georgia 2009 entry, which slipped Putin's name into the song's title) in either version, when there are no political statements being made in the song, there's just expressing our pain, and trying to find a way to cope with it?

This WAS the biggest massacre of Jews since the Holocaust, and expecting Jews not to write about it, not to sing about it, not to try to process it through art... Our pain is not political. It's human. When Ukraine won in 2022 with a song that wasn't originally political, but became one, as it was adopted by Ukrainians suffering from a war that they did not choose, but had to fight, singing it wherever they were displaced (I remember the winners, Kalush Orchestra, coming to Israel to sing it for and with Ukrainian refugees who found shelter here), I thought it was quite obvious, even for people who don't like politics at Eurovision, why the song won, and why everyone overlooked the fact that it was only partly based on its qualities as a Eurovision song. I don't expect Israel to win, I very much expect that, even as Israelis embrace this song about our pain during a war, that we didn't choose, but have to fight, and while hundreds of thousands of us are still displaced, we will get a lot of hatred, instead of understanding and sympathy. But I still have to speak up. I still have to point out that treating Israeli or Jewish pain differently is wrong.

(as a footnote, I wanna get ahead of the usual, "Why is Israel allowed to participate in Eurovision to begin with? It's not in Europe!" comments, while I haven't come across the same ritual for certain other Eurovision participants, like North African Morocco, just-as-Asian-as-Israel Lebanon, transcontinental {despite some of these countries only being considered European culturally, while geographically speaking, they're fully Asian} Georgia, Russia, Cyprus, Turkey, Azerbaijan and Armenia, and the one that's a continent all on its own, Australia. They all have the right to participate, because they all belong to the European Broadcasting Union. Just like Israel)

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daisynik7 · 7 months

Text

The Apple of His Eye

Chapter 1: Meet the Parents

Pairing: Nanami x f!reader

Word Count: ~4.1k

cw: major fluff, love confessions, kissing that almost leads to something else

Summary: Two months into your relationship, you and Kento Nanami are in love. Except neither of you have officially said it to each other yet. After meeting your parents at a family party, Nanami decides to confess his feelings for you in your childhood bedroom. This is the story of how two months of the little things lead up to one big love confession.

Author's Notes: Here it is! The first fluffy side story for A Bento For Kento! Love confessions always make me swoon, so I hope you enjoy reading this just as much as I enjoyed writing it. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are appreciate as always. Thank you for reading!

The Apple of His Eye Masterlist | Next Chapter

It’s been two months since Ren’s lessons have ended. Two months since you met Kento Nanami.

Kento Nanami, the handsome ex-stockbroker. Kento Nanami, the Jujutsu Sorcerer. Kento Nanami, the lover of bread.

Kento Nanami, your boyfriend.

You still can’t believe it.

The kiss on the night of the street food festival was the jet fuel that skyrocketed your relationship with him. You were only known as Ren’s older sister who cooked delicious food and attached encouraging, and occasionally flirtatious, notes to bento boxes. Nanami was just your brother’s very serious and very handsome Jujutsu Sorcery mentor.

Over the past two months, you learn that there’s so much more to the stoic Nanami than meets the eye. Behind that somber persona is the sweetest, gentlest, most cuddly man you could ever dream of.

Seriously, this man loves to cuddle. You wouldn’t expect it of him, but he just adores nestling his face in the crook of your neck while you’re in bed together. He always offers to be the big spoon, though you secretly know he enjoys being little spoon, so you make sure to take turns. Often, when you’re standing in the kitchen preparing dinner or washing dishes, he’ll come up behind you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist, resting his chin on top of your head or to either side of your shoulders. Even when he’s engulfed by his newspaper, eyes scanning the editorials carefully, he’ll set it down as soon as he notices you approaching him, sitting you comfortably on his lap to snuggle.

It's not just the affectionate touches; it’s the sweet gestures, the little things. How he always sends you a good morning text, except on days when you’re waking up beside each other, replacing it with a delicate kiss on the forehead. Or during your first visit to his apartment, when you spot the bento box notes you wrote him pinned to his refrigerator like a work of art.

The little things, like on the fifth night you spend at his place, he points out a new electric toothbrush, right next to his. Your toothbrush. Or the empty drawer of his dresser in case you want to leave any clothes for emergencies. It’s now full of extra pajamas, comfy sweaters, leggings, and underwear, as if you properly reside there. Then there’s the time you briefly mention how much you love these granola bars from this particular grocery store you frequent. The next day, you notice two boxes of it sitting next to the rest of his snacks, ready for you whenever you have a craving.

Two months. That’s all it takes for you to fall for Kento Nanami.

Thankfully, your teenaged brother starts warming up to the idea of Nanami, his former mentor, being your boyfriend. When Ren gets the official news about his acceptance into Jujutsu High, Nanami treats the both of you to all-you-can-eat sushi, which your little brother is ecstatic about. Although the lessons have ended, Nanami still offers advice and guidance to Ren about Jujutsu Sorcery, which is appreciated.

He’s even included in your weekly Friday movie nights, following Ren’s approval, of course. And, after a stern talking to from your protective brother, which involves him saying phrases like, “Use protection!” and “Consent is very important!”, he’s been much more lenient to you spending the night with Nanami at his apartment.

That being said, there are still boundaries you and Nanami adhere to. Whenever he visits your home, again with Ren’s approval, you set aside strict rules for yourselves. This includes no PDA in front of your brother and no naughty business in general, a feat you’ve both somehow manage to succeed at. Most of the time, it takes Nanami forcing himself to sleep on the couch, away from you, to avoid any temptations.

With Ren’s complete support of your relationship, you begin to wonder that it’s time to introduce Nanami to your parents. They are finally home from their summer-long vacation and upon learning their son has been accepted into Jujutsu High, they decide to throw a going-away party at their house to celebrate. Aunts, uncles, cousins, as well as Ren’s childhood friends are invited, under the guise that he’s going to a prestigious boarding school in Tokyo.

The summer season passes by smoothly and your brother’s upcoming move into the dormitories is fast approaching. He begins packing, the bedroom a scattered mess with two suitcases flung open, laundry tossed aimlessly inside. You stand in the doorway, watching him fondly. “I’m gonna miss you, booger. Can’t believe you’re leaving soon.”

“I know. This has been the best summer ever,” he replies, smiling at you. Seriously, your little brother is precious!

“You better come visit me. I know you’ll be busy with all your new friends, but don’t forget about your dear sister, okay!” Tears well up in your eyes, blinking them away quickly, embarrassed that you’re a weeping mess despite him not even leaving yet.

“Don’t worry, I will! And besides, now you have Nanami to keep you company! You better keep the tradition of Friday movie nights or else,” he warns, playfully.

“We will. For you, of course.”

“By the way, speaking of Nanami, Mom and Dad told me to invite him to the party.”

You stare at him, confused. “Huh?!”

“Well, they knew about the summer lessons way before you did, remember? So, they know about him and told me to invite him. Is that okay?”

Scratching your neck nervously, you respond, “Of course. I was already thinking of introducing him anyways. I didn’t expect it to be this soon, though.”

“Don’t worry, sis. It’s going to be fine!” He beams at you with a thumbs up, easing your worries only slightly.

The last time you introduced a new boyfriend to your parents, that relationship ended after one year. It wasn’t a bad breakup or anything malicious; it just didn’t work out. This time, however, is different. It feels different. This one is going to last.

Two months. That’s all it takes for you to fall in love with Kento Nanami.

~~~

Two months. That’s all it takes for Nanami to fall in love with his girlfriend.

He started falling the moment they kissed. That’s when everything leading up to that became real. It was the beginning of their love story.

Nothing has ever felt anything close to this. Nothing. He never used to get butterflies in his stomach. After two months, the fluttering remains; it never stops. Pet names were never his thing, but he catches himself calling her baby, sweetie, even princess. Blushing is a regular occurrence for him, especially when she surprises him with a racy text or whispers something naughty in his ear, always leading them to continue in the bedroom.

Nanami can confidently say that he has never been in love before, until now.

It may seem fast. In fact, it sounds completely bonkers and ridiculous. Two months and he’s in so deep. But even after the first month, he already knew: she’s the one.

It’s mid-August. The night before on their routine phone call, Nanami tells her that he has a summer birthday, to which she whines, “Oh no, we missed it! We should celebrate retroactively!”

He chuckles, amused by her suggestion. “It’s okay. I usually don’t celebrate anyways. Unless you count drunk karaoke with Gojo as a celebration.”

“It most certainly is! But still, I want to do something for you.”

They don’t discuss it any further, Nanami changing the topic quickly, truly not expecting anything to come out of it. The next day, she invites him for dinner. He has an unusually exhausting mission that lasts nearly the whole day, so he’s enthusiastic to see her. When he arrives, he’s greeted at the door by his girlfriend and Ren wearing birthday hats, holding a giant ham and cheese sandwich with a dozen lit candles sticking out of it. “Happy birthday!” they cheer, bright smiles on their faces. Ren pulls on a confetti popper, releasing flying bits of multi-colored paper while she blows on a noisemaker. It's silly, goofy, and wonderful.

They indulge in the ginormous, delicious sandwich, following it with dessert in the form of a birthday cake. Nanami offers to wash dishes, to which she refuses profusely. Choosing to ignore her protests, he walks into the kitchen, noticing that it’s a mess. Pans stacked in the sink, flour littered on the counter, bowls of what looks like deformed dough near the oven, and several burnt loaves of bread atop the stove.

“What happened?” he asks, concerned.

Embarrassed, she admits, “Well, I tried to bake bread. No one told me how hard it is! My dough didn’t rise properly, I was eyeballing all the ingredients, which I guess is a big no-no. I wasn’t checking on it every minute and I just kept messing up. I ended up going to our favorite bakery and just buying a loaf from there. I’m so sorry, Nanami.”

She spent the whole day trying to bake bread. For him.

That’s when he knew.

It’s not just that moment. It’s the little moments he often thinks about. The way she always sends him goodnight texts with a variety of emojis, despite him never using them himself. The way she kisses him on the forehead every morning when they wake up together or every night before they fall asleep. The way she gets up early to pack him a bento for work on the days when they’re together, in that same Hello Kitty container. How she continues to leave notes for him, taped to the cover. You’re my favorite loaf of bread. Your cuddles are the best. Those curses got nothing on my baby! I love waking up next to you.

He loves her. They haven’t said it out loud yet, but he does. She means the world to him, the apple of his eye. He loves her. Completely, irrevocably, unconditionally.

There’s no right time to tell her. He wants to do it when it feels right, whenever that is. He’s meeting her parents tomorrow at Ren’s farewell party at their home. This is a big step in any relationship, so naturally, he’s both nervous and excited. Maybe the right time will come then.

~~~

The day of the party, you, Ren, and Nanami take the train to your hometown. The house you grew up in is about a ten-minute walk from the station. When you enter the home, you’re greeted by your family. Your brother abandons you to embrace his friends, leaving you with Nanami at your side to acknowledge your parents, heart pounding against your chest nervously.

“Hey Mom and Dad!” you exclaim, giving them a big hug. “How was the trip?”

“So much fun! Wish you could have joined us.” Your mother eyes Nanami up and down, a curious smile on her face.

He bows, introducing himself. “My name is Kento Nanami. It is such an honor to meet you.”

Your dad chimes in happily. “Nanami! So good to meet you! Ren has told us so much about you! We knew he would be in good hands this summer.”

“Ren has been an exceptional student. I had no doubts that he would be accepted into Jujutsu High. They are lucky to have him.”

Your dad smiles. “We’re grateful to you and the establishment for taking him in. We’re sure his skills will improve under the school’s guidance. We know a little bit about Jujutsu Sorcery from Ren’s biological parents, who were our close friends. I know they would be so proud of Ren.”

Your mom faces you, asking, “Dear, could you please go check on the salmon in the oven?”

“Well, Mom, I actually have something to tell you.”

“Honey! It can wait, we are speaking with Nanami! Please go and check the fish!”

You give Nanami a quick glance. He nods, understanding what he needs to do. “Actually, we have something to tell you.” Clearing his throat, he says, “I am dating your daughter. We are together.”

After an extremely long and silent pause, the gears picking up pace in your parents’ heads, your mom finally speaks. “Oh. Oh! Really?! You’re dating my daughter? My daughter? You? And her?”

“Okay Mom, you don’t have to sound so shocked,” you tease, rolling your eyes.

“No, honey, I mean. Honey! He is just…well, sorry to be so blunt, but he is very…well, handsome and established.”

“Okay Mother, we get it!” you snap, immediately regretting it.

“He’s not like any man you’ve ever dated!”

“Yes, Mother, I know!”

Nanami interrupts. “I can assure you; it was your daughter who had me smitten first. She’s truly a wonderful woman.”

Your mother’s eyes widen as she giggles, “Oh Nanami! How sweet of you! My, my! You are truly a gentleman! Should I start calling you ‘son’?”

“Mom!”

“Just a little joke, of course! Ha ha ha, oh my. My sweet daughter! You got yourself a looker!”

“Dad, can you please, please make her stop?” you plead as your dad laughs.

He rubs your mom’s shoulders and pushes her in the direction of the kitchen. “Sweetie, let’s go check on that salmon and leave these two lovebirds alone, you are embarrassing them. It’s so nice to meet you, Nanami. Go ahead and mingle.” Your father gives you a small wink before steering her into the kitchen. You hear her yell out, “So nice to meet you son!”

You look at your boyfriend, cheeks burning. “I’m so sorry. I’m mortified.”

Nanami smiles. “Don’t be sorry. I think that went well.” He leans in, giving you a small kiss on the forehead, your other relatives catching it as they sit in the living room.

The next hour goes just as you expect, much to your dismay. With aunts, uncles, and cousins in attendance, it’s no surprise that everyone is curious about your handsome and established boyfriend. One uncle asks the standard, “So, how did you two meet?” And after hearing the abridged version, he jokes, “My niece is always finding ways to snatch herself a new boy toy, good on you!” You bury you face in your hands, horrified, as Nanami rubs your back affectionately.

Then, there’s your auntie, who reveals, “Did you know that my dear niece here has only ever had one boyfriend? Better be gentle with her; she doesn’t have too much experience if you know what I mean.” She says the last statement with a nudge and a wink. Before you can get up to excuse yourself, Nanami squeezes your hand. “Don’t worry, Auntie. If anything, she’s the one who should be a bit gentler with me.” She reacts to this with a loud, “Oh ho ho!” and several more nudging. God help me, you think.

It doesn’t end there. More of your relatives bombard him with questions. “When are you going to get married?” To which you have to remind everyone that it’s only been two months. There’s also, “What do you do, Nanami?” And since it’s too complicated to explain Jujutsu Sorcery to every normie in your household, Nanami decides to say he is a professor.

Bless your boyfriend’s heart. He answers each question politely, listening intently as your family continues to embarrass you. Once you get your chance, you grab him, tugging him into the hallway leading to the stairs. “I’m so sorry, Nanami. I know this is overwhelming.”

“Don’t apologize. I love hearing stories about you. Your family is really nice.”

You reach out, holding his hand. “Do you want to see my room? It’s just up the stairs.”

“Am I allowed?” he teases, eyebrow raised.

“No one’s watching,” you smirk, leading him up the stairs.

Sneaking into your childhood bedroom feels naughty, especially sneaking in with your boyfriend. Once you enter the room, you quietly shut the door behind you. Your bedroom has been preserved in the exact same state as it was ten years ago. You still have posters of your favorite pop idols hanging all over your walls. On your dresser mirror, there are old photos of your friends and family. And not the most flattering pictures. He leans in close to get a better look, laughing to himself. “Were you a theater kid?” he asks, focusing on a particular photo of you on stage.

“Yes. That was my one big solo, which lasted two minutes on stage. I was usually just in the background for all the other musicals.”

He grins at you. “You have so many talents. I love learning more about you.”

There’s a flutter in your belly, pleasantly surprised by his sincerity. Suddenly, you are very aware that Kento Nanami is standing in your bedroom, and for some reason, you’re flustered.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s just…I can’t believe I have a boy, I mean, a man in my room.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m just saying, seventeen-year-old me would be freaking out right now,” you laugh.

“I take it you were a late bloomer?”

“Late bloomer? Excuse me?!”

He chuckles, standing in front of you. “I didn’t have much luck with the ladies myself, back when I was in Jujutsu High.” He wraps his arms around your shoulders, smooching you on the cheek.

You look up at him with a soft smile. “Sometimes I wonder. If we met in high school, do you think you and I would be friends?”

Nanami answers quickly. “Absolutely.”

“Oh, such a confident answer!”

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. Then, he confesses, “I’m confident I would have still fallen in love with you then, as I am now.”

You’re frozen for several seconds, unsure if you truly heard him correctly. Did he say love?

He whispers your name. “Did you hear what I said?”

Still unsure, you reply hesitantly. “Uh, yes. I did.”

He rests his forehead against yours, gazing into your eyes. “Before you say anything else, I want to say this properly: I am falling in love with you. And I know it’s only been a short while, but I have never been so sure about anything else in my life. I don’t want you to feel pressured to say it back. But I just want to let you know that this is how I feel.”

His confession makes your heart race. Should you tell him that you’re falling in love with him too? It’s only been two months since you started dating. There is so much you don’t know about each other. You still call him by his surname, for goodness sake!

But you are falling in love with him. Everything about him screams love. The way he looks at you, the way he speaks to you, the way he touches you. His selflessness, his chivalry, his calm demeanor that hides a more confident and dominant disposition when needed. He is everything you’ve ever wanted and more, as cliché as that sounds.

There’s always that fear of admitting something so personal. The fear that saying it now is too soon. The fear that maybe he doesn’t feel the same way. Love means something different to everyone. He may say he’s falling in love with you, but what does that mean to him? What if one day, he wakes up and starts falling out of love? What if one day, he meets another woman who he falls even more in love with?

All of this is your own insecurity. It’s not Nanami’s fault that you have these irrational fears. And besides, who’s to say that Nanami doesn’t have fears like this too? He deserves to know how you feel. He deserves to feel the same tingling feeling all over your body right now. “I’m falling in love with you too. And I’m not just saying that. I mean it, with all my heart.” Should you do it? Should you take the leap of faith? Right here, in the middle of your childhood bedroom? The pop idols hanging on your walls are screaming at you Just do it! “Kento, I love you.”

His grip on your shoulders tightens, eyes wide in shock. Oh no. Did you say too much?

Before you take it all back, he puts his hands on your cheeks and kisses you passionately. The fluttering intensifies until you’re dizzy against his lips. Before you know it, you’re lying on your back in the bed, him on top of you, his warm mouth grazing your neck. He lips are at your ear, chanting, “I love you. I love you. I love you.” His hand reaches the hem of your dress, exposing your thighs, sliding between your legs. Every little touch sends ripples through your body like electricity.

Between kisses, he tells you, “I didn’t want to freak you out by saying ‘I love you’ first. That’s why I said I am falling in love with you. But I love you. I really love you.”

“I love you, too. I really love you, Kento.”

You continue to kiss each other sloppily, his hand caressing your inner thigh. When he sucks on your bottom lip, you can’t help but let out a small moan. He trails further up your body, fingertips brushing your hips, stomach, then chest. The dress you’re wearing is hiked up to your neck as he stops kissing you to stare hungrily at your almost bare body. Just as he begins to straddle you, there’s loud stomping running up the stairs. Immediately, you lightly shove him off and sit up on the edge of the bed, pulling your dress down. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, standing up with his back towards the door.

It swings open, revealing Ren. “There you are! We’re playing charades now! I need you two on my team. Let’s go!” As quickly as he barges in, he runs back down the stairs, leaving the door wide open.

Nanami takes a deep sigh, back still turned as you move towards him, hugging his waist. “Need a minute?”

“I don’t need a minute. I need you. Underneath me. Right now,” he huffs, trying to calm down.

“Kento!”

“I know, I know. We shouldn’t.” He turns around to embrace you, resting his chin on your head. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Kento.”

“You have no idea how much I love you.”

“Show me how much you love me. Tonight. Let’s finish what we started.”

He chuckles in that low voice you love so much. “You are a naughty girl, you know that? Let’s go out there and play some charades before I really lose all self-control.”

“What, are you going to make love to me on this bed? In front of all these pop idols?”

“I don’t care who’s watching. I’ll make love to you right here, right now with this door open if you keep teasing me.”

Before it escalates, you quickly drag your boyfriend out the door and join the rest of your family in the living room, where everyone plays a rambunctious game of charades. When it’s Nanami’s turn, you watch with a large smile as he gets on his knees and pretends to lick the back of his hands, giving his best impression of a cat.

God, you really love this man.

~~~

Kento, I love you.

There aren’t enough words to describe what Nanami is feeling right now. The euphoria that courses through him after hearing her utter that is sublime. He’s intoxicated, weightless, transcendent. He’s never felt like this before, heart about to burst out of his chest. He wants to do a dance because of how happy he is right now. Wants to get down on one knee and propose to this goddess, this angel, his love.

Instead, he takes her to bed and almost, almost consummates their love for each other in her childhood bedroom. Luckily, and unluckily, before it progresses further, Ren bursts into the room.

He can’t believe she loves him. She loves him. Everything he’s done in his life before he met her is paying off in the best way possible. All his sacrifices, all the hardship, all the mundane rituals. This is his reward. His happiness.

All these thoughts are jumbled up in his head. He’s already picturing her in a wedding dress. Travelling the world with her. Making babies. Growing old together. Everything Nanami knew before has been thrown out the window. His stupid rules of not dating, his mundane day-to-day routines, his morbid outlook on life. She makes him forget about that. He never wants to go back to his life before meeting her.

Two months. That’s all it took for Nanami to be totally and absolutely in love.

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joelsgreys · 1 year

Text

a safe haven | two

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist | previous chapter l next chapter

summary: While helping set up the barn for the summer party, a friend tells you that Tommy wants to set her up with Joel and feelings of jealousy come into play; you ask your niece Dina for a huge favor; you share a memorable moment with Joel and Ellie on the dance floor.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. commune throws party, Esther makes an appearance, reader gets jealous, mentions of reader’s husband, husband name reveal, hints at their strained marriage, Dina and Ellie interaction, Joel dances, cute moments between Ellie, Joel, and reader. mention of food, consumption of alcohol.

word count: 6.6k

You glance around the barn, both hands planted firmly on your hips.

It’s late in the afternoon, around three or four if you had to guess since you’d accidentally left your watch in your satchel bag back at the stables.

After spending the morning making your usual rounds and tending to all of the horses that needed some attention, you’d offered to pitch in and help prepare for the night’s upcoming festivities. In one corner of the barn, Seth’s setting up the small bar where he and his sons would be bartending and serving up beverages. Over in another corner, Tommy Miller is helping set up the large, flat top grill and his wife, Maria, stands right beside him, keeping everything organized as she directs several members of the commune and assigns them with a number of tasks that still need to be taken care of before the social event could begin. The food had also started to arrive—quite a few people had kindly volunteered to bring in their homemade dishes to share, all sorts of delicious little pickings from a variety of savory sides to go with the bison steaks that Tommy would be grilling later on in the evening, to an array of sweet, baked desserts meant to be enjoyed afterwards. Maria graciously thanks everyone for their contributions, then points them over towards the long, rectangular shaped table that would serve as something of a buffet.

“Do you think we brought out enough chairs for tonight?” you ask, curiously cocking your head to the side slightly as you silently start to do another count of the mismatched chairs around all of the tables that surrounded the perimeter of the makeshift dance floor. The barn itself was incredibly spacious, and the group who’d been assigned the task of cleaning it up earlier that morning had completely cleared the inside, leaving more than plenty of room. Still, you try to be mindful about making sure the improvised venue isn’t too crowded with tables and chairs. “Or do you think we should bring out a few more?”

Esther scoffs in response. She had been sitting at one of the tables, digging through a woven basket filled to the brim with freshly picked wildflowers for the center pieces she had promised Maria that she’d make. She improvised with a different variety of glasses, plastic cups, and even old, empty food cans, using them as vases for her arrangements. In a tiny effort to spruce them up, Esther had tied a long string of twine into a bow around each one. “Listen, nobody is going to be sitting on their ass tonight, at least not for very long,” she remarks, brushing her long, golden blonde bangs out of her eyes with the back of her hand. She then gestures towards the stage where a couple of guys are bringing out instruments and setting them up. She shimmies her shoulders playfully. “Everyone is going to be way too busy dancing and shaking their tail feathers. Now quit worrying about chairs and help me with these damn things, will you?”

You giggle at her antics and lightly shake your head as you sit down in the wooden chair directly across from her plastic one. You grab an old, empty Campbell’s chicken noodle soup can and peel off the label, carefully checking the inside to make sure it’d been washed out thoroughly before grabbing a handful of flowers from the basket. Esther made a good point. The much anticipated and long awaited first day of summer had officially arrived in Jackson, and the entire town was buzzing with pure excitement over the gathering—an incredibly rare time to unwind and let loose, you knew everybody was more than ready to put on their best and dance the night away.

Sure, throwing a party while living in a world like this one seemed like nothing but a complete waste of time—not to mention, a complete waste of valuable and precious resources. But the good people of Jackson worked themselves down to the bone in efforts to keep the community going, to keep it growing and flourishing now that it was well over forty families strong. Taking just one night out of the year to have some carefree fun did a lot more good than it did harm. It provided a much needed sense of normalcy for everyone, but most importantly, for the children and members of the younger crowd who had been born after the outbreak. It was a small taste of what life used to be like before every single day became nothing but a fight for survival, before the worries of infection, clickers, and murderous raiders became god awful nightmares that had come to life. While Jackson was certainly a safe haven, it wasn’t completely immune to those very real threats, and that scared people. Seeing the way the summer party lifted spirits and boosted morale, Maria had made it an official annual tradition, something to look forward to when the tough got going. Anyone who thought it was a stupid idea was more than welcome to spend the entire night on wall duty instead.

“I wonder if he’s coming tonight.” Esther’s voice breaks into your train of thought after a minute or two.

You glance up at her, confused. “Who are you talking about?”

“Tommy’s older brother,” she replies, placing some daisies into a tall, slightly chipped glass. She bites her lip and says his name shyly. “Joel.”

Without thinking anything much of it, you nod and find yourself assuring her, “He said he would come.”

Esther’s hands fumble, clumsily knocking the glass over in surprise, her flowers spilling out. She manages to catch it just before it falls off the side of the table and grips it in her hand. “Wait a minute, you’ve met Joel?” She gasps lightly, her eyes going wide with curiosity. “You mean, you’ve actually talked to him? Are you fucking serious? When did that happen?” She sputters out each question, one after the other.

You bite back a grin as you recall your encounter with Joel Miller. Even now, a full day later, the feeling of his hand holding yours still lingers. His skin had been rough and calloused against your own, but you’d enjoyed the way it had felt. You shouldn’t have. But there’s no denying how much you had liked it, how much you wished for another chance to hold his hand in yours again.

Still waiting for answers, Esther nudges your leg with her foot under the table. “Well?”

You shrug your shoulders in the most calm, nonchalant manner that you can muster, as if the mere thought of the man isn’t making your insides flutter wildly. “Well, I actually just met him for the first time yesterday afternoon.” Seeing the genuinely stunned expression on Esther’s face, you begin to elaborate a little further as you start arranging a bouquet of flowers into the empty soup can in front of you. “Ellie, the girl he’s here with, well she spends a lot of time with me at the stables. Joel came looking for her after lunch hour and we got to talking for a bit. Before he left, I ended up inviting him and Ellie to come to the party.”

“Wait, what? Ellie spends a lot of time with you? Really?” Esther lets out a scoff of pure and utter disbelief. “I can hardly even believe it! That girl avoids everyone around here like we’re the damn infected. It’s really rude, don’t you think so?” She doesn’t even give you the chance to respond before adding, “She’s got quite the mouth on her from what I’ve heard, too. Cusses up a storm left and right, and she lacks the most basic manners. Poor Joel, I wonder how he ended up getting stuck with someone like her. Whoever her parents were, they clearly failed in disciplining her.”

Frowning, you glare at her across the table, not too fond over the remarks she’d just made about Ellie. “She’s actually a really good kid, Esther,” you all but snap at her, a seething edge to your tone. “You know something, I really wish people wouldn’t be so damn quick to judge before getting to know someone, especially when they have no idea about what they’ve been through. Maria has taught all of us better than that over the last few years.”

Your friend holds up her hands in defense. “Well in all fairness, it’s kind of hard to try and get to know someone who purposely chooses to keep to themselves all the time, you know. She isn’t even giving anyone the chance to get to know her. Except for you now, apparently.” She pauses for a moment, realizing she had just landed herself in a bit of hot water with you. She tries to deviate the conversation slightly into a less sensitive territory and asks, “Are they both coming tonight?”

“Joel said he’d be by with Ellie,” you confirm, still feeling a bit irate. You know Esther doesn’t really mean any harm, but her comments, and the way she’d said them, had definitely struck a nerve. “He might have his work cut out for him trying to talk her into coming with him, but I’m sure that he’ll manage to convince her somehow.”

“Well, at the very least, I sure hope that Joel sticks true to his word and comes out to join us,” she smirks, propping her elbows up on the table as she leans towards you and makes a confession that you’d really wished she hadn’t. “He’s certainly someone that I would like to get to know.”

You manage to keep a straight face, uttering a small, “Oh really?”

“Of course! He’s so damn handsome,” Esther gushes with a twinkle in her sky blue eyes. “Joel is exactly my type of man, you know. Tall. Rugged. Big, strong hands that I bet would feel incredible all over me,” she swoons back into her chair in a dramatic fashion at the thought of it. “And he has this mysteriousness about him that I really like too.” She stops, looking around to make sure nobody was within earshot before leaning over towards you once more. She lowers her voice just in case anyone happens to pass by the table. “Tommy stopped by my place after dinnertime yesterday. He told me he was thinking of setting Joel up with somebody and he asked me if I would be interested.”

Your heart sinks. “He did?”

It’s difficult to ignore the feeling of envy that’s prickling at your nerve endings. It’s incredibly stupid to feel this way, to feel disappointed, especially knowing that you didn’t have the slightest chance in hell with Joel Miller.

Esther’s a single woman up for grabs—and you’re not.

You’re married.

Still, the thought of Joel with Esther, it bothers you.

After talking to him in the horse stables the day before, you’d found yourself thinking about him a lot more than a married woman should probably be thinking about another man who wasn’t her husband. It was wrong, it was dangerous, and it wasn’t like you at all. But there was just something about him that had caught your attention, long before he’d even spoken a single word to you.

Now that you’d become acquainted with him, you were screwed.

So frustratingly and devastatingly screwed.

“You know what, I’m going to try and talk to him tonight,” Esther concludes, nodding her head as if she’d just convinced herself into doing it. “I might need a strong drink or two in me to give me a little bit of liquid courage, but I think I can do it. After all, Tommy thinks that Joel would really like me. He told me so last night.”

You lightly clear your throat and somehow manage to give her your best, encouraging smile. “I’m sure you’ll make a great first impression on him, Esther.”

“I think so too,” she agrees, giving the flower in her hand a gentle sniff. “By the way, I forgot to ask you—is Luke coming by tonight?”

The mere mention of your husband’s name makes you feel nauseous.

Averting your gaze, you shake your head. “No, he isn’t. He’s been so tired from work lately and he’s really not in the mood for it.” You hope she can’t detect the hint of relief in your voice as you explain that your husband wouldn’t be joining in on the night’s festivities. “He’s going to stay home and catch up on some rest.”

“What a shame,” Esther tsks with a frown. “That man works way too damn hard, you know. He needs a break. You should really try and get him to come to the party. He could use a night out.”

“I’ll try and talk him into it,” you lie straight through your teeth knowing damn well that you would do no such thing. The truth of the matter was, the less you were around Luke, the better. Him being at the party with you would only make it unenjoyable for you—if he came, you wouldn’t be able to be yourself, not unless you wanted to end the night with another explosive argument because you’d been too this or too that. Too chatty, too annoying, too embarrassing, too much.

Knowing Luke, he would expect you to be glued to his side all night long and play the role of his quiet, obedient little wife, and when that didn’t happen, it would cause all hell to break loose once you two were back in the privacy of your home. It was the one place where the image of the perfect, loving marriage that you and Luke had created over the last few years came crumbling down into pieces.

From your periphery, you catch a young girl with long, raven black hair walking by with a burlap sack of green apples in her arms. “Excuse me for a minute.” You stand up from the table and catch up to the teenager, calling out her name. “Dina!”

She stops in her tracks and turns around. As soon as she sees that it was you who’d called her name, she smiles warmly. “Hi there, auntie.”

You wrap an arm around her in a hug. “Are you ready for tonight?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Dina shrugs, setting down the heavy sack at her feet as she smiles at you once again. Since you’d met her, she had always been a quiet kid, friendly but very shy. As she transitioned from childhood into adolescence, she had slowly but surely started coming out of her shell. “I’m excited for all the good food, that’s for sure. What about you?”

“I’m really looking forward to the live music,” you reply, nodding towards the stage where a young man is tuning up his bass guitar. You peer curiously at her for a moment, hesitating slightly before finally saying, “Listen, I’m glad that I caught you. I was wondering if you could do me a really big favor tonight?”

Eagerly, she nods. “Of course! Anything for you, auntie. What do you need?”

“You know that new girl, right? Ellie?”

Dina’s face falls instantly. “You mean the one who doesn’t talk to anybody?”

“Yeah. Her. I was thinking that maybe we should do something to change that,” you suggest to her. “I’d really appreciate it if you would try and talk to her tonight during the party. Maybe try and get to know her a bit.” You immediately notice the look of disdain that crosses her features. “I honestly think that you two would get along great. She reminds me a lot of you, you know. Minus all the cursing, of course,” you quickly add as an afterthought.

“You’ve talked to her?”

“She’s actually been hanging out with me these last couple of weeks.” You almost laugh at the shocked look on Dina’s face. “I wouldn’t ask you to befriend someone who I know you wouldn’t like. But I mean it, Dina. I really think you’d like Ellie. Something tells me that you two could wind up being good friends.”

“But she yelled at me on her first day here,” Dina recalls, anxiously biting her bottom lip as she shuffles from foot to foot.

“Okay, so maybe you two might have gotten off on the wrong foot,” you state, remembering that winter afternoon a few months ago when Dina had told you about how Ellie had barked at her for staring at her in the mess hall. “But that doesn’t mean that you two can’t start over, you know. Clean slate?” You grin and tuck a lock of her long hair behind her ear, grazing her cheek softly as you did so. “It would really mean a lot to me if you at least tried to talk to her. Please? Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

Dina thinks it over for a minute, then sighs in defeat. “Fine. I suppose I can give it a shot.”

You take her face in the palm of your hand, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “That’s my girl.”

Dina quickly pulls away from you and wrinkles her nose. “Auntie?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re going home to shower before the party tonight, right?”

“Yeah, of course I am.” You furrow an eyebrow at her. “Why do you ask?”

“Because.” She wrinkles her nose in disgust. “You smell like a dirty horse.”

You chuckle, giving her another squeeze.

Oh, Ellie and Dina were going to get along just fine.

Joel stands in front of the bathroom mirror and frowns at his own reflection as he runs his thick fingers through his graying, dark brown curls for what had to be the thousandth time. Whether it was with his hands or with a comb, he couldn’t tame his locks to save his fucking life. He breathes out a long, irritated sigh and decides to give up on his hair altogether before walking back out into his bedroom in nothing but the dark blue bath towel wrapped around his waist. He pads over towards the foot of his bed where he’d set out his pile of clothes.

He quickly tugs on a pair of boxer briefs and his clean, dark wash blue jeans before reaching for one of the shirts Tommy had dropped off for him earlier that afternoon. His brother had given him a number of options to choose from and Joel had chosen the one he’d felt was the nicest—black with a gray paisley print and long sleeves. He shrugs into the shirt and buttons it up, rolling the sleeves up to the middle of his forearms. He glances over at his pistol on the black oak nightstand beside his bed. Though he’s fairly positive he wouldn’t be needing it, he picks it up and tucks it into the waistband of his jeans, purely out of habit.

After slipping on his cleanest pair of black leather boots, he leaves his bedroom and makes his way down the long hallway towards Ellie’s door. He gives it a light knock and calls, “Ellie, s’time. You all ready to go?”

It takes her a minute, but Ellie finally opens the door.

“Y’didn’t wanna dress up for tonight?” Joel questions, observing how she’s chosen to wear her usual long sleeved shirt, faded blue jeans, and tattered red low top sneakers.

She narrows her eyes at him and huffs, “Fucking really, Joel?”

He holds up his hands, shaking his head. “Right. That was a stupid question,” he realizes out loud. “Alright. C’mon, kiddo. Let’s get goin’ before it gets late.”

“Do we really have to go to this stupid thing?” Ellie whines with a small groan as she follows him down the stairs and out the front door. “It’s the end of the fucking world, man. Who in their right mind throws a fucking party? I mean, what are we even celebrating, anyway? The fact that we’re all fucked for the rest of our lives?”

“Y’know, a little change in attitude would be kinda nice,” Joel remarks as the two of them make their way across the commune, following another group of people who also appear to be heading towards the barn. “This could be real good for you, Ellie. Hell, it could be good for me too. It could end up bein’ a real good time for the both of us.” He doesn’t quite fully believe that, and the truth is, Joel really doesn’t want to go as much as Ellie doesn’t want to go. Still, he hopes that by exposing Ellie to people at the social event, she’ll have an easier time adjusting, and perhaps she could even finally find her niche. Or at least make a friend. Seeing you also happens to be a perk of going. “This could be fun.”

“Since when are you into parties, Joel?”

Joel shrugs his shoulders. “I ain’t into parties.”

“Oh, wait a minute. The only reason that you even want to go to this fucking thing in the first place is because you know who is going to be there. Isn’t that right, Romeo?” Ellie smirks and wiggles her eyebrows at him in a suggestive manner. Noticing the perplexed expression on his face, she scoffs, “Don’t look at me like you don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about. I heard the way you were chatting her up at the stables yesterday.”

“First of all, she was the one who was chattin’ me up, thank you very much,” Joel mutters to her gruffly. “And second, what the hell were you doin’ hangin’ around and listenin’ to us? I thought I’d told you to go get lunch, not stick around and eavesdrop.”

“I didn’t wanna miss anything good,” Ellie replies, peering up at him. “You know that she’s married, don’t you?”

“Ellie,” he says her name warningly and looks around, hoping no one had been overhearing their conversation.

“Just making sure you knew that, Joel.”

“Yeah, I know she’s married,” he says, hoping that the teenager couldn’t pick up on the sour edge to his tone. He glances at Ellie, and wonders what all exactly she knew about you. Though he knows better than to ask her, he stupidly does so anyway. “You meet the guy yet?”

Ellie bites back another wide smirk, taking note of the way Joel had so easily let his curiosity get the better of him. ��Nope. I’ve noticed that she doesn’t really talk about him much, either.” She shrugs, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “And from what I know, they don’t have any kids together.”

Joel raises an eyebrow at her. “Didn’t ask you if they had kids.”

“No, but I know you were wondering if they did,” Ellie states in a matter of fact tone. “Whether or not she’s happily married, I can find that out for you too, if you want me to. Just call me Sherlock fucking Holmes and I’ll crack the case.”

His mouth falls open slightly at what she’d been implying.

As if he would actually go after a married woman.

Joel finally speaks, his voice rigid. “Ellie, that ain’t funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be funny, believe it or not.” She notices the way his jaw clenches and shrugs her shoulders once again. “What?” she bats her eyes innocently, as if she had seen nothing wrong with the statement she had just made. “Oh come on, Joel. You can’t tell me you’re not the slightest bit curious about her marriage.”

“I ain’t,” he lies straight through his teeth. “It ain’t none of my business, and it sure as hell ain’t none of yours either, so don’t you go pokin’ your nose where it doesn’t belong, you understand me? Don’t need you goin’ around and causin’ trouble.”

“Alright, alright. Sheesh. Don’t get so worked up, man. Can’t be good for your blood pressure.”

“Little shit,” he mutters.

Joel and Ellie make it to their destination just after sunset and by that time, the party had started and was already in full swing. The commune’s barn had been completely transformed, cleaned up and cleared out—a dozen tables or so surrounded a decent sized dance floor and bright lights had been strung from the rafters as well as all along the outside of the structure, bringing the place to life. There’s a live band playing music on a small, makeshift stage and the scent of delicious barbecue wafts through the air, causing Ellie’s stomach to grumble.

Joel glances around, hoping it isn’t obvious to the kid as to who he’s looking for, but she’s far too busy processing everything to even notice.

“Whoa. This is so weird,” Ellie mumbles under her breath as she takes in her surroundings. Though she had seemed to be thoroughly confused by it all, he detects the glimmer of curious fascination in her wide brown eyes.

“Joel! Ellie!”

Grinning, you wave your hand as you weave your way through the crowd towards them.

Joel’s throat bobs and goes sandpaper dry at the sight of you. It feels like someone had just driven their fist into his gut and knocked all the wind out of his lungs.

The pale yellow frock you’re donning is strapless with a subtle sweetheart neckline, short with a flowing skirt that falls to the middle of your thighs. You’ve dressed it down, pairing it with tan brown cowboy boots that look like they’ve seen better days, and a cropped denim vest. Your hair is loose around your shoulders and there’s a delicate white daisy tucked behind your ear. Simple, but it’s enough to take his breath away. “Hey!” you greet them, excitedly. “You guys made it!”

“Whoa, nice dress, princess,” Ellie nudges you, offering a playful grin in return. She’d been so used to seeing you in your flannel and jeans at the stables—though she’s teasing, there’s a twinkle of admiration in her eyes as she looks at you. It’s a world of a difference to see you when you’re not dirty, sweaty, and wearing boots covered in horse shit.

You nudge her right back and then turn to Joel. “You look very nice,” you compliment, subtly admiring the way that his shirt fits the broad planes of his chest and his shoulders.

“He showered for once. Doesn’t he look pretty?” Ellie jeers, causing him to roughly smack her shoulder. She rubs the spot where he’d hit her, making a face at him. “Relax man, it was a fucking joke. Jesus.”

Ignoring her, Joel shifts his attention back to you. “You look real nice too.”

“Thank you, Joel.” There’s a hint of shyness in your smile.

He couldn’t be too sure if it was his mind playing tricks on him, but he could have sworn he’d just seen you give his form another once over.

“I’m really glad you two decided to join us.” Gesturing around with your hands, you ask, “What do you guys think?”

“It’s some shindig, that’s for sure,” Joel remarks, taking another glimpse around. He aches to take another look at you, let his eyes glaze over every last inch of you, but he knows better, especially with his loud mouth kid standing right there in the middle.

“It’s like I told you yesterday, Joel. People still know how to get down and party,” you wink at him and his heart skips a nervous beat. “Come with me, I’ll get you guys a couple of drinks.”

“Drinks?” Ellie’s face is hopeful. “What kind of drinks?”

“Nonalcoholic for you, missy.” You flick her shoulder, causing Joel to chuckle. “The drinking age in Jackson is eighteen, although some kids can have a drink or two at sixteen on special occasions as long as their parents are around to supervise them.”

“Well, I’m fifteen. That’s close enough to sixteen. And I’ve got my supervisor right here.” She jabs her thumb over her shoulder at Joel. “I can have a real drink tonight, right Joel?”

He snorted. “Not a fuckin’ chance in hell, kiddo.”

She scowls. “Fucking party pooper.”

You lead them over to one of several coolers that are strategically placed around the barn and pull out a bottle of fresh squeezed lemonade for Ellie and a bottle of beer for Joel. Twisting off the cap, he takes his first sip of the homemade brew and makes a face, coughing and sputtering at the taste. “Jesus Christ, that’s fuckin’ awful.”

“Sorry, I should have warned you that Seth is still trying to perfect his beer recipe,” you giggle into the palm of your hand. “His whiskey is a whole lot better, but it’s really strong. I wanted to start you off light.”

In the distance, you see Esther watching Joel with hungry eyes from across the barn. She’s turning heads in the skintight, cherry red dress she’s wearing underneath her denim jacket—the material hugs every single curve tightly, accentuating her perfect figure. She’s nursing a glass of something or other, probably still working up the courage to introduce herself to Joel. You’d hoped that by the time she was finally ready to make her move, you’d find it in yourself to accept it with grace.

Or be somewhat drunk enough not to care.

The band on stage finishes up their rendition of Life is a Highway and everyone in the barn breaks into whistling cheers and thunderous applause.

Impressed with their talent, even Ellie finds herself clapping her free hand against her thigh with genuine enthusiasm.

The band moves onto their next song and the familiar tune of one of your favorite songs, Dancing in The Moonlight, instantly takes your mind off of Esther and lifts your spirits.

“Oh, I love this song!” you exclaim. “Ellie, dance with me!”

“Wait, what in the fuck—” Ellie gasps as you grab her hand and started tugging her along behind you. She immediately glances at Joel for help. He simply chuckles as he plucks her lemonade from her hand and lets you drag her a few feet away to a spot on the dance floor.

Smiling, you spin her around a couple of times and then take both her hands in yours as you start leading her in the dance. It takes Ellie a minute or two, but she eventually stops resisting and gives in, moving along with you.

“Yeah, there you go!” you beam, encouraging her. “That’s it!”

“Oh, I’m so gonna fucking kill you for this!” Ellie threatens, however, her eyes are sparkling and she’s laughing. Her fingers squeeze yours. “Hey, this song’s pretty fucking cool! I like it!”

Taking a swig of his beer, Joel watches as you and Ellie dance together.

He feels a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as his eyes drink in the sight of his girl smiling brightly—she looks happy, so ridiculously happy, and he wishes there was a way for him to bottle up this memory just like a scent, one that never faded or grew stale. He would give just about anything to have it stashed away, available for him to open up whenever he wanted so he could relive the moment all over again, for as many times as he needed.

“Everybody here is out of sight, they don’t bark and they don’t bite,” you sing the lyrics to her as you twirl her around once more. “They keep things loose, they keep ‘em tight, everybody was dancing in the moonlight—”

“This is so fucking weird,” Ellie laughs again, mustering the courage to finally take a turn and spin you around. She grasps your hand tightly in hers and her opposite hand flies to your waist. She eventually finds the constant beat to the song and connects rhythmically with you, her moves falling in sync with yours, though she would still take a clumsy step here and there.

As the band moves into the next verse of the song, your gaze meets Joel’s from the dance floor and you lean forward, whispering something to Ellie.

She eagerly nods her head, shouting, “Fuck yeah! Do it!”

Ellie drops her hands away from you and you leave her alone on the dance floor for a moment. Rushing up to Joel, you take his bottle of beer and set it down on the table beside him before reaching for his hand.

The contented smile on his face vanishes. “Darlin’ what are you—?”

“Come on! Come and dance with us!” you chirp, dragging him over towards where Ellie’s waiting, an amused smirk plastered onto her face as soon as she sees the flabbergasted look on his.

“I—I don’t dance.” Joel quickly tries to tell you. He makes an attempt to stop you from pulling him any further, but you’re a lot fucking stronger than you look and he doesn’t stand a chance. “I can’t dance!”

“Don’t be silly!” You dismiss him over your shoulder, shaking your head. “Everybody can dance!”

“Come on, Joel!” Ellie shouts, taking his other hand in hers. “Let’s see you shake what you got!”

In his peripheral vision, Joel notices a few people gawking, watching in bewilderment as the two standoffish newcomers dance with you, the town’s resident sweetheart.

“Joel, relax,” you call out over the music, shaking his hand. “Don’t be so uptight! Loosen up a little!”

He tries his hardest to do just that. Though he’s too embarrassed to fully comply with your request, at some point, he does find himself moving a little less like the tinman.

The three of you sway to the upbeat music together in your own little corner of the dance floor.

Holding your hand in one of his and Ellie’s in the other, Joel finally decides to let go and allows himself to enjoy the moment, regardless of how terrible of a dancer he is. He moves with the two of you along to the music, a deep belly laugh escaping him as Ellie tries to spin him around—their significant height difference makes it impossible, and all she does is mess up his hair as her arm brushes right over his head.

You try spinning him too, but you’re not all that much taller than Ellie. Joel bends his knees slightly and ignores their protest long enough for you to give him a twirl.

When the song ends, the three of you move off of the dance floor and back over towards the table where their drinks are waiting for them.

“Gotta give you credit. You’ve got some moves, old man,” Ellie states, taking a sip of her lemonade. Beads of sweat drip down the side of her face and she wipes them away with the sleeve of her shirt. “Little on the stiff side, but not bad for being fifty six with creaking knees.”

You muffle your snort of laughter with your hand.

Joel glowers, but truth be told, he can’t even be mad at her for the jab. He’d finally caught a glimpse of Ellie being truly, genuinely happy, the way she deserves to be��and it was all thanks to you.

“Hello!”

Glancing over your shoulder, you smile as Dina comes up to the three of you. She seems nervous—you can tell by the way that she’s already pulling at her sunflower printed dress.

“Hey, sweetheart.” You kiss her cheek and then introduce her. “Joel, Ellie, this is my niece, Dina. Dina, this is Joel and Ellie.”

Ellie flushes a deep shade of red as she recognizes her from her first day in Jackson.

“What about her manners?” She remembered snapping when she’d noticed the dark haired girl hiding behind a wooden pillar in the mess hall, staring at Ellie as if she were some kind of freakshow.

“Ellie,” Joel mutters her name, jabbing his elbow into her shoulder. “Say hello.”

“Oh—um, hey,” she greets her awkwardly with a wave of her hand.

“Would you like to go grab something to eat with me?” Dina offers shyly as she gestures over towards the grill.

Ellie nervously glances up at Joel, as if she were silently asking him for guidance on what to do.

“Go on,” he encourages her. “Just stay out of trouble, alright?”

She hesitates, but then turns back to Dina and nods her head. “Okay.”

Reluctantly, she follows Dina over to the other side of the barn. The girls each grab a plate, get in line, and make their way up to Tommy, who not only seems pleasantly surprised to see Ellie, but to see her with someone other than his brother.

“Niece, huh?” Joel questions, taking another sip of his beer.

You’re not surprised.

Dina doesn’t look all that much like you, he’s probably thinking.

“Technically, she is. My husband is her uncle,” you explain, briefly. “After her parents passed away, he and his other niece, her older sister, Talia, they both raised Dina together. We were all living together under one roof until Maria decided Talia was old enough to be assigned a place of her own a couple of years ago.”

“Speakin’ of your husband.” Joel anxiously shoves his free hand into his pocket. He wasn’t sure how he’s only just now noticing the thin, gold wedding band around your ring finger. Seeing it causes an odd feeling to begin boiling in the pits of his stomach—the ring only confirms what he wished wasn’t true. “I haven’t had the chance to meet him yet. He, uh—he around here somewhere?”

“No, he isn’t. He decided to stay home tonight. Luke isn’t a big fan of these kind of things—besides, he’s always tired from working.”

Joel observes the way you uncomfortably shuffle from foot to foot and he wonders if maybe it’s because you’re missing him. The thought only makes the foreign feeling in his stomach intensify. “He’s the doctor around here, ain’t he?”

You nod. “He is.”

Before you have the chance to change the subject, you catch a glimpse of Esther making her way over towards you and Joel.

Your heart sinks deeply in your chest, similarly to the way it had earlier when she’d told you about Tommy wanting to set them up together. Again, you’re forced to remind yourself that you don’t have any right to feel this way.

She slinks up to the both of you—it’s clear she’s already tossed a number of drinks back and had quite the buzz going on. “Hi there,” she practically purrs at Joel. She glances at you, as if she’s waiting for you to introduce them to one another. Of course she would assume that you’d be her wingwoman. Hell, what reason would she have not to think that you would be willing to lend a hand and help set her up with him?

She’s not the one with a husband waiting at home.

“Joel, this is my friend, Esther,” you finally speak, hoping your voice doesn’t sound as shaky to either of them as it does to you. “Esther, this is Joel Miller. He’s Tommy’s older brother.”

“Nice to meet you.” Joel takes her hand, giving it a brief shake before quickly dropping it.

“Now, I know you didn’t give him Seth’s shitty ass beer to drink. We all know his whiskey is way, way better,” Esther comments, shaking her head as she offers him her best, flirty smile. “Come with me, cowboy. Let’s go and get you a real drink over at the bar.”

“Oh no, that’s alright. M’perfectly fine—” Before Joel can finish protesting, Esther takes his bottle, hands it over to you, and then grabs his hand, dragging him off towards the bar.

Frowning, he looks over his shoulder at you and you have no choice but to make an encouraging gesture with your hand as if to tell him to go and have a good time.

Once Joel and Esther are out of your sight, you lift the bottle to your lips, draining every last drop of his beer in one swallow. You pivot on the heel of your boot and start towards a group of friendly, familiar faces in hopes that some mindless chatter would be enough to get your mind off of things and tame the jealousy that’s clawing furiously at your insides.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #joel miller series #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x oc #joel miller hbo #joel miller imagine #fic: a safe haven #fic: ash

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wholoveseggs · 13 days

Note

Hey lovely, your latest story gave me an idea. How about Reader and Elijah have been together for a while, but he is the one to avoid sex. Every time he has been with a human, it overpowered them or hurt them. He can't keep Red Door Elijah in check, which is fine when he's with a supernatural being, but not when he's with a human. Reader knows his backstory but is determined to show him that their love is different.

Control

{I've officially run out of gifs I want to use, so I'm in my moodboard era now}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Plagued by nightmares of hurting you, Elijah avoids any form of intimacy, but you have had enough. You confront him about his rejection and Elijah finally learns how to let go and lose control.

♡♡ Thanks for the request @originals23, love love love red door elijah and his dark side ♡♡

6k words - Warnings: smut, fluff, lots of angst, red door Elijah, trauma, nightmares, visions of death, blood, blood drinking, rough sex, aggressive flirting, dom!elijah, jealously, masquerade ball, elevator vandalism...

Elijah needed control the way a drowning man needed air. It was as if it was a basic function, like oxygen, like blood. He had always been that way, even before he was turned, but it got worse when he was forced to take lives for food and to stay alive. His nature demanded he take what he wanted, when he wanted, but he was afraid of that, so he clung to rules, to discipline.

But no matter what he did, he was still plagued with the same nightmare. You, his perfect love, dead in his arms. Your body limp and lifeless, your eyes open but vacant. And all because he couldn't control himself. Your blood stained his skin, his clothes, his heart.

You knew better than to sneak up on a sleeping vampire, but it wasn't just any vampire. It was your Elijah, your sweet, loving, gentle Elijah.

All you wanted to do was surprise him with some coffee. It was going to be a long day, there was a huge party being hosted by Marcel. All of the factions were gathering for a masquerade ball, the first of its kind in centuries. There were rumors of a peace treaty in the works, and the festivities were the opening salvo.

You were beyond excited, you never experienced this sort of thing, and you were so happy that Elijah would be by your side. You picked out a matching set of masks for the two of you. For him, a sleek, black one with dark feathers at the tips. For yourself, a delicate, lace one in a deep crimson.

When you were younger, you had dreams of wearing beautiful, elaborate gowns, and dancing the night away with a handsome man. You couldn't help but feel giddy thinking about tonight.

You set the coffees down on a nearby table. Elijah's room was dim, only a small shaft of light peeking out from behind the curtains. He was curled up in the center of his large bed, his hair was disheveled and his lips were parted. The sheet was pooled around his hips, revealing his chiseled chest and toned arms.

He was beautiful, and you very much wanted to explore every bit of him. But he wouldn't allow it. He wouldn't allow himself to lose control. He had told you about his darkness, the red door, the place where he put all of the sins he couldn't live with.

When his control was frayed and his mind was weak, it would whisper to him, tempt him. Because there, in that space, he didn't have to feel guilt or pain. He was free. Free to do as he wished. He would be able to take you, claim you, love you the way his darker instincts screamed at him to.

You pulled off your sweater and boots, leaving you in just a mini dress and socks. You padded over to the bed and carefully slid under the covers, trying not to disturb him. You cuddled up next to him, your hand resting on his chest. You wished he would let you in, let you experience all of him, the good, the bad, the ugly. You loved him, and that meant loving everything about him.

Elijah had sensed your presence from the moment you entered his room, but he remained still, feigning sleep. His sweet little love, so utterly defenseless and vulnerable, alone in a vampire's bed. His fingers itched to touch you, to pull you into his embrace and never let you go. He could hear your heartbeat, steady and strong, could smell the sweet perfume you had dabbed behind your ears, and could feel the heat radiating off of your body. He was acutely aware of every aspect of you. It was hard not to give in to temptation, to pull you into his arms and kiss you until your lips were swollen and pink.

"Elijah," you said softly, in a sing-song voice. You brushed your fingers along his jaw, the stubble rough against your soft skin. He stirred slightly, pretending to wake.

"Hmm, good morning, love." He rasped, his voice heavy with sleep.

You kissed him softly, smiling into it. "Good morning. I brought us coffee."

He hummed, "That's perfect. Thank you, sweetheart."

"I can't wait for tonight." You sighed, tracing your fingers down his throat and along his collar bones.

Elijah was torn between letting his eyes flutter shut at the contact or watching your movements. You had him entranced.

"I can't either," he agreed. "You'll be the most beautiful woman there, I have no doubt."

You blushed at his compliment and kissed him again, your lips lingering against his. He groaned and rolled onto his side, bringing his hands up to cup your face, his thumbs stroking along your cheekbones. He let himself give in just a little, let the control slip a fraction. You gasped into the kiss as his tongue swept along the seam of your lips. Your lips parted, allowing him entry. You melted against him, your hand coming up to rest on his bicep.

His hands slid down your body, mapping every dip and curve, memorizing the feel of you. Your skin was like silk, your body supple and soft. You had a slight tremor, nervous, or maybe excited. He wasn't sure, but he loved how your breath hitched as he moved his hands lower and lower, until his palms were flat on your backside, his fingers flexing as he pulled you flush against him.

You hummed, a noise somewhere between a sigh and a moan. He drank it in, taking all of your little sounds and storing them in his memory. He rolled, pulling you with him so that you were under him. You moaned as he settled between your thighs, his weight a welcome comfort. He moved his mouth down, nipping at the skin of your throat and collarbone, careful not to let his fangs break the surface.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling gently. You had fantasized about being with him in this way for so long, dreamed about how his body would feel pressed against yours, how his hands would feel on your bare skin. You didn't know what caused this shift in him, this sudden willingness to be intimate, but you were glad for it.

You tugged at the waistband of his boxers, trying to tell him what you wanted. You were not a shy person, you wanted to experience what it was like to be with such a powerful creature, to feel his strength and passion.

Elijah groaned and rocked his hips against yours, letting you feel how much he desired you. His control was slipping, and he didn't care. You wanted him, and he would have you. He leaned back to look at your beautiful face, wanting to etch this moment in his memory for all eternity. You were a vision, cheeks flushed and eyes dark with want.

Suddenly everything started to warp, your flushed skin turned cold, your warm eyes grew distant, and your heart slowed to a stop. His breath caught as a trickle of blood leaked from the corner of your mouth. He looked down at his hands and they were covered in your blood, the dark, rich liquid soaking the sheets and staining his skin.

"No, no, no, no, no." He chanted, trying to bring you back, willing the darkness to recede.

Your eyes were glassy, lifeless, bite marks all over your neck, your chest, your legs. You were covered in them, the evidence of his weakness, his inability to keep his desires in check.

Elijah threw himself from the bed, stumbling backwards. He clutched his head in his hands, a scream ripping from his throat. You were gone, dead, and it was his fault. He would never be able to look at your smiling face, never hear your soft laugh, or feel your lips on his again.

"Eli?" you said, stunned by his sudden departure. He was now across the room looking like a caged animal, his eyes wild and his hair a mess. You climbed out of the bed and slowly approached him. He looked like he was going to bolt, his muscles tense and his breath ragged.

"Are you alright?" you asked, reaching out to touch his arm.

"Don't!" he shouted, flinching away from your touch. "Don't touch me."

"Okay," you said, holding up your hands. "I won't."

He felt like he was losing his grip, the world was shifting around him, the ground threatening to give out beneath his feet. He felt like he was back there, back in that slaughterhouse that haunted him, the place that whispered his darkest desires, the place that taunted him with visions of what he truly was, no matter how much control he thought he had over it.

You reached out to him again, and he snapped. He grabbed your arm and pushed you against the wall, his eyes black and his fangs sharp. You gasped, but didn't struggle, trusting that he would never hurt you.

He released you at once, horrified by what he had done. He backed away, shaking his head. "No, no, no. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

He sank to his knees, his eyes wild and frantic.

"It's okay, Eli." You said, kneeling in front of him.

"You need to leave, please." He begged, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm not going anywhere." You said firmly, reaching out to touch him again. He tensed, his breath hitching as you made contact.

"LEAVE," he roared, his eyes flashing. You jerked your hand back, surprised by his outburst.

Elijah regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, he watched you run out of the room and all he wanted was to chase after you, but his pride and fear kept him rooted in place. He couldn't let you be around him, look at what he did? If he couldn't control himself in a moment of passion, what would happen if he really let go?

Elijah stood in front of his mirror, adjusting and readjusting his tie. His hair was combed and his suit was tailored perfectly. But none of it felt right, the buttons on his shirt were too tight, the cufflinks too heavy, the material of his suit too coarse. He needed it all to go away.

He felt like a monster. A monster wearing a man's skin.

Elijah closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could do this. He could get through this night. He didn't know if you were coming to the party, and he couldn't decide if he wanted you there or not. He hated the idea of you being away from him, but he also couldn't bear the thought of you seeing him like this, a man unraveling, barely keeping himself together.

He opened his eyes and forced himself to smile, but the sight was a mockery. His lips were pulled taut, and his teeth looked like daggers. He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he wanted to tear down the entire city and start anew.

"Elijah! we are going to be late!" He heard Rebekah yell from the courtyard below.

"Be right there," he called, his voice hoarse. He gave himself one last look in the mirror before he walked out of the room and descended the stairs. He could see his siblings all gathered, dressed impeccably with their dates on their arms.

Klaus was talking with Camille, they were dressed in matching shades of blue. Freya and Keelin were standing close together, their hands entwined. Kol was whispering something in Davina's ear, making her laugh. Rebekah was on the phone with Marcel, telling him she was on her way. And Hayley was chatting with Jackson, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist.

"There you are." Freya said, noticing his presence. "Where is y/n? She was so excited about tonight."

The sound of your name made his chest ache, he was about to explain, or rather, come up with a plausible excuse when he heard a voice from behind him.

"I'm right here."

He turned around to see you walking down the stairs, dressed in an ornate black gown, matching his suit, your mask hanging in your hand.

"Y/n," he said, stunned by how beautiful you were.

You smiled slightly and approached him, your heels clicking on the stones. He took your hand, inspecting your arm. It was bruised and there were small scratches from where he had dug his nails into your skin. He brushed his fingers over the marks, regret and guilt filling him.

"It's fine," you said, squeezing his hand.

"No, it's not."

You leaned in and kissed him softly, the feeling of your lips on his caused him to relax a little. He kissed you back, the contact grounding him, reminding him why he needed to stay in control, for you.

"Let's go," Klaus said, gesturing for everyone to follow him out the door.

You took your mask and placed it on, the crimson filigree complimenting the dark silk of your gown. Elijah put on his mask, the bold design making his dark eyes stand out.

The group arrived at Marcel's penthouse, finding the place already crowded. People were drinking, dancing, and mingling. It was a lively atmosphere, filled with music and laughter.

"It's nice," you commented, holding Elijah's hand.

"It is," he agreed, looking around the room. "Shall we?"

He gestured to the dance floor and you nodded, taking his offered arm. He led you to the center of the room, where couples were already twirling and spinning.

"May I have this dance?" he asked, his voice low and seductive.

"You may," you answered, giving him a shy smile.

He took your hand and placed his other on your hip, guiding you through the steps. The two of you swayed to the music, moving gracefully.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his lips brushing your ear.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," you reassured him.

He wanted to argue, but you didn't give him a chance. You captured his lips in a kiss, the world around you melting away. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. The two of you stayed locked in the embrace, the music and the crowd fading into the background.

The two of you danced for a while, enjoying the feeling of being close to one another. The environment letting him relax a little. But when the music changed, becoming slow and sultry, his mind started to drift.

Elijah imagined pushing you against a wall, kissing your neck and leaving marks. He wanted to rip your dress off, and explore every inch of you. He wanted to bite you, to taste your blood. He wanted to claim you, to make you his.

He wanted to let go, to allow himself to give in. To experience the kind of pleasure and power that only came with a lack of control. But then he saw the blood again, the crimson of your mask, the ruby red of your lipstick, turned to the viscous liquid that both haunted and nourished him.

"What is it?" you asked, noticing the way his body tensed.

"Nothing," he said, his voice strained. "I just need a drink,"

He let go of you and headed to the bar, needing some strong alcohol to help calm his nerves. He ordered a scotch and downed it in one go, the liquid burning his throat. He ordered another, and another, until the world was pleasantly fuzzy and his thoughts were quiet.

"Mr. Mikaelson, so good to see you," a woman said, coming up to him.

"Madam," he replied, not looking up from his drink.

"How is business?" she asked, clearly wanting to engage in a conversation.

"Fine." He said shortly, hoping she would get the hint.

"The party is wonderful," she commented, sipping from a champagne flute, her mask was turquoise and silver, a few strands of her dark hair escaping her updo.

"Thank you, the decorations were my sister's doing," he replied, trying to be polite.

"Ah yes, your sister," the woman said, her eyes drifting over the crowd, landing on the blonde vampire. "She's almost as pretty as you," the woman added, a seductive smile on her lips.

"You're quite flattering, but I'm spoken for," Elijah told her, not unkindly.

The woman pouted. "So I heard, a human though? That must be...difficult," she said.

"How so?" He asked, not liking the direction the conversation was going.

"Humans are frail, their lives are fleeting," the woman replied, her hand coming to rest on his chest. He looked down at her hand touching him, her daylight ring a large sapphire. "And they are so easily broken," she added.

He clenched his jaw, trying not to let her words get to him. "That is why they are treasured," he replied, scanning the crowd in search for you.

"They are food. I thought an original vampire would know the difference," the woman grinned, enjoying getting a reaction out of him.

"Watch your tongue, Madam, or you might find it missing," he warned, his voice low and dangerous.

"Oh, feisty," the woman purred, her free hand went up and she ran her finger over the edge of his mask. "You could have any creature here, take them however you want. Break them in the best possible way," she purred, her pupils dilated.

"That's not how I operate, now if you will excuse me," he said, his anger starting to bubble.

"That's how you used to operate," the woman taunted, her fingers trailing over the buttons of his jacket. "I'm a little hurt that you don't recognize me," the woman pouted, batting her eyelashes at him.

"Should I?" He asked, trying to place her face.

"Paris, summer of 1783, you had me by the hair, bent over the side of a balcony, fucking me so hard that the cement cracked," she told him, licking her lips. "You were wild, rough, animalistic. And it was amazing," she breathed, her gaze unfocused as she remembered the night.

Elijah couldn't remember her, nor did he remember the event. It was amusing to him that this vampire thought she was special. She wasn't. He had bedded hundreds, maybe even thousands, of women. He only ever remembered the ones he loved.

"A shame you can't recall, I've thought about it many times over the years," she said.

He raised his eyebrows. "That's a bit pathetic," he said bluntly.

She laughed, not taking offense. "Perhaps, but the sex was fantastic, I can still feel your bite," she smiled, her eyes falling to his mouth.

Elijah shook his head. "My dear, I'm sure there are plenty of willing participants here, if you truly wish to relive the past, you'll have no trouble finding someone to assist," he said dismissively.

"I would prefer you," the woman said, her tone changing. "No one here matches your power, no one can fuck me like you did."

"Maybe try Niklaus, ask him to bite you," he smirked, watching as his brother and Camille were laughing together.

"Both of you dating humans, what a complete and utter waste," she said, her eyes flicking to you. "I bet I could make you forget all about her," she cooed, pressing herself closer to him.

You could see this vampire all over Elijah, touching him and speaking in his ear. You weaved through the crowd, wanting to put an end to it.

Elijah's attention turned from the woman, a smile spreading across his face as he saw you walking towards him.

"I'm going to have to politely decline, thank you." he said, reaching his hand out for yours.

"Come now, surely you could use some relief," the woman cooed, her hands trailing over his body, ignoring your presence completely.

You didn't quite know what came over you, but you reached up and gently slapped her hand away from him.

The vampire turned her attention to you, her eyes going to the bruising on your arm. She let out a laugh. "Oh my, perhaps I was wrong, looks like your little plaything can handle you," the woman mocked, a smirk on her lips.

"Don't," Elijah growled, not appreciating her words.

She just laughed and shrugged, turning her attention back to him. "If you change your mind, I'll be here all night." the vampire winked at him and walked away, joining another group.

Elijah let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

You gave Elijah a half-smile, hoping he wouldn't think you were stupid for hitting the vampire. She could have so easily crushed you, but you weren't afraid of her.

"Who was that?" you asked, annoyed by the exchange.

He shook his head. "An old lover, it seems," he told you, his lips pressed in a thin line.

"Oh," was all you said, sadness filling you. You weren't the overly jealous type, but knowing that vampire had Elijah in a way you hadn't made you envious and sad.

Elijah saw the change in your demeanor and realized he had not answered the question right. You misunderstood him.

"Not a recent lover," he explained. "It was a very long time ago, and I do not remember the night," he assured you, his hand cupping your cheek.

You sighed, his touch instantly easing the tension in your body.

He pulled you close, his arm wrapping around your waist. "That was very brave of you, that could have ended very badly" he said softly in your ear.

Your hands went to his shoulders, clinging to his jacket, the material warm from his body. "You make me feel brave, you make me feel safe," you murmured.

His heart constricted. He didn't deserve your faith or your trust. The bruise on your arm was proof enough of that. He should let you go, make you hate him and walk away from you before you get hurt anymore, but he couldn't. Not while you were looking up at him with all that trust and affection in your eyes. He loved you far too much to give up.

He leaned in and kissed you, the familiar spark of electricity passing between you. He deepened the kiss, his hand cupping the back of your neck. He was pouring everything he felt for you into it, hoping you could feel the depths of his love and devotion.

You returned the kiss, trying to convey all the things you couldn't say. You broke apart, panting slightly. He rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed.

"Eli, I was hoping that we could...," you trailed off, biting your lip.

"What?" he asked, his eyes fluttering open.

"I want us to...you know," you whispered.

His eyes darkened, hunger and need filled him. All of the work he had done to push away his urges, to protect you, had unraveled in an instant. Now all he could focus on was the vision of your body beneath his, the feeling of skin against skin. The blood flowing through your veins singing a song to him that he could not deny, at least, not completely.

He pulled you a little closer, swaying you to the music playing, his other hand gripping your hip possessively. You watched his pupils dilate, saw the tension in his jaw and the bob of his Adam's apple.

"Not tonight," he murmured, trying his hardest to hide how much he wanted you, how much it would hurt to reject you again.

Your fingers curled around the lapels of his suit jacket, tugging on it a little harder than you meant to. He never wanted to give in, to allow himself a taste of pleasure. Even with his walls down, Elijah could never truly give himself to you completely.

His hands went to yours, prying your fingers from his jacket, his eyes dark and dangerous. "You do not understand how difficult it is," he hissed.

You pulled against his grip, anger bubbling up. "So, help me understand," you said in a soft tone, ignoring the fact that you were arguing in a room full of people and that you were both gripping each other hard enough to bruise.

"It feels like..." you started, shaking your head a little, "like, I am not enough. Do you not want me? Or have you realized that you need more and I cannot provide that to you?" You finished in a small voice.

His grip on your hands tightened, a warning look flashing in his eyes. "You are more than enough," he whispered, his eyes softening.

You took a steadying breath. "Then. Please. Fuck. Me," you said bluntly.

Elijah let go of you as if you had burned him. Your words cut him deeply.

You let out a frustrated sigh, his rejection stinging. "I... I'm going to go home," you said, blinking back tears.

He went to grab you but you moved out of his reach, his fingers barely grazing your arm. He watched you leave, his eyes following your figure until it disappeared into the crowd.

It was in that moment that he knew he had to make a decision, either he could keep trying to be gentle with you and risk losing you or he could give in and have you completely, but at the cost of hurting you.

Elijah drained his drink and placed the empty glass on the bar, his mind made up. He followed you, moving so fast that no one saw him leave.

You were upset, your feelings a tangled mess, waiting in a quiet hallway for the elevator to arrive. Your eyes were glazed with tears, your breathing shaky. You didn't know what to do, and you didn't know what you wanted from him.

You were lost in thought when the elevator dinged, announcing its arrival, but before the doors opened, hands were on your waist and you were pressed against the wall. His lips were on yours, hungry and demanding. You gasped and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth.

You melted into his touch, your fingers tangling in his hair. His hands were on your thighs, lifting you up and pushing your dress higher.

You wrapped your legs around him, pressing your body against his. The heat between you erupting, causing a soft moan to escape your lips.

He broke the kiss, his mouth going to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and bites. His hands were on your hips, pulling your body closer. He was rough and urgent, his nails digging into your skin. You gasped, arching into him, needing to feel more.

"You want me to fuck you?" he whispered in your ear, his voice low and husky. "I will," he promised, his lips ghosting over yours.

You clung to him, giving yourself over to the moment. He lifted you off the ground and carried you to the elevator. The doors slid open and he stepped inside, pressing you against the wall. His hands were all over your body, touching and teasing.

You were so caught up in his touch that you didn't notice the doors closing, trapping the two of you alone. He punched the panel, making the elevator come to a jerking stop. He kissed you, his hands finding their way under your dress, pushing the fabric out of the way.

He gripped your hips, grinding against you. The intensity and desperation in his touch was new, making your head spin. You wanted more, needed more. You moaned, the sound echoing off the walls. He groaned, his fingers digging into your skin.

He pushed your panties aside, sliding a finger into your wet heat. You gasped, arching into him. He pumped his finger in and out of you, curling it inside of you. He added a second finger, his thumb rubbing circles around your clit.

He groaned, the feeling of you tightening around him almost too much, his lips brushing your ear. "I want to hear you say my name when I make you come," he whispered, his hot breath tickling your skin.

All you could do was nod, your cheeks flushed and your eyes closed, it was all happening so fast and you couldn't get enough of it. He pressed his lips to your neck, nipping at your skin. He added a third finger, the heel of his palm pressing against your clit.

Your eyebrows arched, locking eyes with him, your mouth open and your hands clutching his jacket. The pressure was building and you felt like you were going to explode. You gasped, his fingers pumping in and out of you.

"Elijah," you said his name breathlessly.

"That's it," he encouraged, pulling on your earlobe with his teeth. "Say my name," he ordered.

"Elijah," you moaned, the pressure coiling tighter.

"Again," he demanded, his hand speeding up.

"Elijah," his name fell from your lips, your release crashing through you.

Your eyes slammed shut, your head thrown back, the muscles in your neck straining. You were trembling, a sheen of sweat coating your skin. He slowly withdrew his fingers, placing gentle kisses along your neck and jaw. You could feel his fangs graze your skin.

He was so hard, you could feel his erection pressing against you. You shifted your weight, trying to gain some friction, but he pulled away, his hands on your hips, pinning you in place.

You opened your eyes, looking at his face, his eyes completely black, the veins under them moving, his mouth open slightly, showing his fangs. You felt fear, but not the type of fear that made you want to run, but the kind of fear that sent a thrill through your body, the kind that made you crave danger.

You lightly traced your fingers over the veins, a smile on your lips. His chest rising and falling rapidly. You ran your finger over his lower lip, and he leaned in, his fangs scraping the pad of your finger. You could feel the sharp tips. He was so dangerous, so lethal, a perfect predator, yet here you were, trapped and wanting nothing more than to have him consume you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He pressed his body against yours, his erection grinding against you. You moaned, reaching between you, your fingers deftly working the button and zipper of his trousers. You tugged his boxers down, his hard cock springing free. You wrapped your fingers around him, stroking him.

"Fuck," he growled, his hips bucking, seeking more of your touch.

You tightened your grip, stroking him faster, twisting your wrist a little. He groaned, his hands on your thighs, his eyes hooded and his mouth parted slightly.

You released him and wrapped your arms back around his neck, grinding yourself against him. He growled, his hands cupping your ass, lifting you. You used the wall for support and wrapped your legs around him, angling yourself just right. You cried out as he pressed inside, stretching and filling you.

His breath was hot against your neck. "That's my girl," he said softly.

He paused a moment, giving you time to adjust. Then he started to thrust, his rhythm slow and measured, watching the way your expression changed as he fucked you. You moaned, your legs tightening around him, your ankles locking together, trying to pull him closer.

He pumped his hips, burying himself deep inside you. You tilted your head back, exposing the soft flesh of your neck.

It took every bit of control he had not to give in and bite you. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, feeling your blood pump just below the surface of your skin. His hips snapped harder, driving into you, focused on fucking you, on drawing more delicious moans and whimpers from sweet lips.

The coil within you grew tighter, the pressure increasing with every movement of his hips. You clung to his jacket, needing something to anchor you, feeling as if you were spinning out of control. He grunted with each thrust, the sound of skin against skin almost drowned out by the blood pumping furiously in your ears.

His eyes never left yours, a predatory look crossing his features, his fingers gripping the swell of your ass, pounding into you with incredible force, your head hitting the wall with each powerful thrust.

It was intense and consuming and you couldn't get enough of him, and neither could he.

You lost track of how many times you'd come, all you knew was the sweet, aching tension was building again and you didn't know if you could handle another. He held you so tight, your body pressed so close to his, his fangs threatening to pierce the delicate skin of your neck. You couldn't stop, you didn't want it to stop.

Then his rhythm faltered, his breathing becoming labored, his hips pumping furiously. He needed a release. It had been a while since he'd experienced such raw, carnal lust.

He could no longer keep himself from drinking from you, he'd waited too long, denied his primal urges. With a snarl, he sunk his fangs into the side of your neck. A guttural cry fell from your lips, your back arching as you came undone, the sudden pain mixed with the pleasure so intense, you felt your vision darkening as you blacked out.

Elijah gripped your thighs, his lips pulling blood from your body, sending your pulse racing, your blood so hot and sweet that he thought he would combust. He let himself go, cumming deep inside of you, your blood in his mouth, the sweetness coating his tongue and rushing into his system. Your body went limp in his arms, your heartbeat slowing.

Sudden panic consumed him, what had he done? The guilt and fear crashed over him in waves. You looked so pale, you were dying in his arms and it was his fault. The rage and self-hatred he had tried so hard to keep in check ripped through him, his true nature unleashed.

But then you opened your eyes, smiling at him dreamily and something inside of him snapped back into place.

Elijah chuckled, still inside of you. He grinned, the edges of his lips curving upwards. He kissed you softly, reverently.

"Holy fuck Elijah," you chuckled, panting slightly, your heart beating erratically, but you felt alive and amazing, and loved.

"You scared me for a moment," he confessed, resting his forehead against yours.

"That was.. You are..," you struggled for words. "Just wow," you laughed.

You held on to him, wrapping your arms around him, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He wrapped an arm around you, supporting you, the other stroking the side of your head. You breathed him in, savoring the moment, never wanting it to end. He smiled, nuzzling your cheek, his nose rubbing against your skin.

"Let's go home, I want you all to myself," you murmured, kissing his neck, the taste of him filling you.

He chuckled, his voice a deep rumble. "As you wish."

"We have a lot of catching up to do," you grinned, thinking of all the things you were going to do to him.

Elijah chuckled. "My sweet girl," he murmured, kissing you gently.

The elevator rattled, the emergency lights coming on. Elijah pulled away from you, adjusting your dress, smoothing the fabric. He zipped and buttoned his trousers, straightening his clothes. The panel was broken, slight electrical sparks coming from the metal. Elijah gripped the doors, forcing them open. He stepped out and helped you down. You smoothed your dress, looking at him shyly. He grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers, leading you out of the building.

"I like it when you lose control, perhaps that was the solution all along," you teased, walking along the street, your fingers intertwined with his.

Elijah laughed. "Perhaps, my darling, you may be right."

And with that, he swept you off your feet and into his arms, carrying you out into the night.

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t-lostinworlds · 8 months

Text

The Grump & The Drunk | Miguel O'Hara

》 PAIRING: miguel o'hara x spider-woman!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: grumpy x (drunk) sunshine, fluff, humor

》 SUMMARY: You were clingy, feisty with no filter when you're drunk. Miguel had front row seat of it—literally. You're lucky he didn't mind. In fact, he was glad it was him and not anyone else. The thought made him seethe in jealousy even though you technically were not his girl. But he wasn't sure if that still rang true after tonight's drunken confession (or that make-out session).

》 WARNINGS: alcohol consumption, soft!miguel (also emotionally constipated!miguel but what's new), r calls him miggy to tease him, height difference (he's 6'9" he's an effin giant), r thirsts over him in front of his face lol, some innuendos, brief argument about feelings, overall very cute and fluffy.

》 WORD COUNT: 6.1k+

A/N: can anyone guess what movie i watched recently. is anyone surprised that i liked the grump with a side of trauma lmao. ANYWAY. this is the first time i'm writing miguel so pls be nice. wrote this fairly quickly too and it's barely proofread sooo. but i hope you still enjoy it!

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

It was late.

Quiet.

Well, for now, at least.

Moments like these were rare to come by, where there wasn't much to do except to let things happen. The multiverse was stable enough not to need any intervention.

It usually was the epitome of the calm before the storm.

Nevertheless, everyone—well, those left at HQ and weren't on stakeout—in the Spider Society took advantage of it.

There was always some sort of activity going on during these types of days. Most of it were small get-togethers in the cafeteria, or perhaps a low-key karaoke in the cinema room. Other times it was much more on the nose.

Right now, there was a party held on the rooftop.

The music was blaring—muffled for him, thanks to his soundproofing—as it jumped from genre to genre depending on who successfully bribed the DJ.

It was rowdy—that he was sure of. What, with the modified alcohol strong enough to affect any Spider-Person as if they weren't enhanced, how could it not be?

Miguel wasn't one for festivities. Not to mention, strobe lights always gave him bad migraines. So after showing face for about ten minutes—he wouldn't have shown up at all but was begged to go by someone he couldn't say no to—he decided to call it a night.

Well, back to his…Spider-Cave.

He was sure there would be copyright issues if that was made official.

But it was dubbed by you so it simply stuck.

You, with bright eyes and a sweet smile as you pleaded for him to come with you to the rooftop even if it was "just a couple minutes, please?"

You, who wore a simple yet gorgeous black dress as you all but dragged him into the elevator, bouncing with excitement because it was going to be your first party here at HQ.

You, who enthusiastically sipped on your Pink Señorita—a margarita with pink lemonade—giddy to feel the buzz of the alcohol after years of being unable to.

You, who was so joyful and uncaring as you danced to your heart's content when your favorite song came on, right in the middle of the floor, shining as bright as the sun as the others revolved around you.

Miguel only watched from the sidelines, his chest aching with longing. So close but out of reach because he couldn't.

He'd only put a damper on your light.

It wasn't a matter of if, it was a matter of when.

He couldn't do that to you.

Soft spot.

Miguel had very few of those.

Anyone who dared to give their opinion on his life with the bravery to say it right to his face said one was occupied by you.

Some would even imply that you held the biggest one.

And sure, the first time Lyla scouted you and suggested for you to be recruited into the Spider Society he might've said yes far too quickly than he should've. But that was only because he saw the way you took down a sector of the Maggia all on your own. He was thoroughly impressed.

There were also times when he let you get away with annoying him scot-free. Whether that was teasing, various nicknames, talking his ear out for hours as you refused to leave him alone to do work, and sometimes even pranks. If it were any other person doing the same things you would've done, they would be leaving the premises at least fearing their life.

He also let you spend time around his magic carpet—as you so unoriginally named it. You were constantly testing those copyright issues—quite often to the point that some of your stuff had migrated the space. There were little trinkets scattered around, evidence that you'd been here.

Miguel finally bought a desk chair perfectly suited for his big and tall stature all because you complained about not having anywhere to sit while you were up here with him.

It was more your chair than it was his, to be honest, since you definitely sat on it far more than he had.

Sure, he could've bought an extra one for you but he didn't want to encourage the teasing—that had been nonstop since you waltzed into his life—that he was playing favorites.

He preferred to stand while he worked, anyway.

Fine.

He could kinda see why many people would say he had a soft spot for you.

Speaking of…

Miguel could hear you before he could even see you.

You were giggling to yourself, followed by poor attempts at whispered apologies when you knocked over something or bumped against something else.

It made him worry a little.

Sure, you were too enthusiastic for his liking, all optimism and sunshine despite everything that you had gone through—it harshly contrasted with his personality.

But he wouldn't particularly classify you as clumsy.

He waited for you to call for him, anticipating which way you'd say it this time around. Your most recent one was: "O'Hara, O'Hara, let down your floating chair."

You thought you were really funny with that one.

But silence.

No cheeky way of asking him to let you come up.

Where'd you go?

Suddenly, he heard a very annoyed and frustrated groan, prolonged and all dramatic.

Then, that familiar thwip rang in the air.

You couldn't have been more impatient.

He was aware of exactly where you were, shooting your webs in random directions so long as you hit a column that took you higher and higher. But even if he didn't have his enhanced senses, your constant giggling would give you away.

Yet as loud as you had already been, your shriek was even louder.

Miguel didn't hesitate to jump off the platform.

His heart was pounding as he clocked your falling figure, adrenaline and fear all at once.

You looked dazed in your freefall, unable to comprehend that your cartridges were empty as you kept trying to shoot your webs.

In the nick of time, he caught you by the waist—upside down.

He let out a huge sigh of relief at the same time you turned into heaps of giggles.

"This isn't how I imagined us getting into this position," you snorted as if you weren't dangling a couple of feet above the ground, feet in the air, arms limp and swaying. "Wow…your thigh is bigger than my head!"

Miguel's whole body warmed, not only from your comments but also because you were still in your dress.

Thank fuck it wasn't a loose skirt.

Not that he would ever look. He might be a bit of a grump—temperamental at times, he'll admit—but he was still a gentleman.

Though he was glad you couldn't see the obvious fluster on his face given your current upside-down predicament.

He'd never hear the end of it.

"I'm flipping you around," he said.

"Like a pancake?"

He didn't answer. He simply tossed you into the air, your squeal echoing off the walls. He caught you again but the right way up this time—your hands clinging onto his shoulders, legs around his waist.

Miguel tried not to dwell on your closeness as he shot a web and pulled you both back up.

"You flipped me like a pancake!" you giggled, stumbling onto the platform once you reached it.

What on earth is going on with you?

One look in your eyes, his unspoken question was swiftly answered.

"Widely irresponsible to swing while drunk," he reprimanded, arms crossed over his chest.

You blew a raspberry, waving your hand dismissively. "Am not drunk."

"Then why did I have to save you from falling head-first into the ground?"

"I slipped!"

"You could've just called me to let the platform down."

"And have it take so fucking long?"

Miguel blinked.

Oh you were so drunk.

"I know it's an intimidating tactic or whatever the fuck it is you're doing. Either way, it's a choice, but it doesn't have to be so damn slow, Miggy!"

"I told you to stop calling me that," he said, no heat in his tone. He simply couldn't stand the way his heart did a funny thing whenever he'd hear that nickname slip past your lips.

"Sorry, sir," you said, sarcasm lacing each letter.

Miguel took a deep breath.

"Don't call me that, either," he said, voice an octave deeper.

You rolled your eyes, completely oblivious to the effect you had on him. "Someone's extra grumpy today."

"Night."

"What?"

"It's night."

"Pfft, you know, you should loosen up your suit," you said, waving at all of him. "Maybe the tightness is making you grumpier somehow, suffocating your muscles and everything."

"The tightness of my suit has nothing to do with my mood."

"Could've fooled me," you scoffed, glaring at him from head to toe. "You're probably chafing in weird places and it's making you irritable. I bet—no, I know you're naked underneath because even though I haven't seen you naked I can still see…stuff, many stuff, big stuff, you know, imagination and not leaving any and shit."

"Dios mío," he grumbled in disbelief, rubbing a palm over his warm face. "How drunk are you?"

"Zero percent-o, Miguelito."

He bit back a smile.

"Could've fooled me," he said, raising a brow at you.

"Don't you dare throw my words back at me," you warned, attempting to appear threatening with your chest puffed out, chin raised as you got all up in his face. You slumped with a pout a second later. "You are so fucking tall!"

"And you are so drunk."

"M'not!"

"Uh-huh, sure," he hummed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oh I am very sure—Miguel, can you sit down," you complained, brows deeply furrowed as you tried grabbing onto his shoulders, urging him to settle on the chair.

He decided to mess with you a little, planting his feet firmly so you weren't able to budge him even with your enhanced strength.

Your inebriated state wasn't helping your case.

It was the first time he ever got to see you annoyed and he actually found it cute. What, with your brows deeply furrowed and that pout in full play, huffing and puffing as you pushed at his chest with your full body strength, how could he not?

"Miggy sit the fuck down!" you growled.

He resisted the urge to laugh, throwing his hands up as he obliged, "Okay, okay, I'm sitting."

Now, he was the one looking up at you.

Yet you still looked frustrated.

"Is that not any better?" he asked, confused.

"No," you mumbled, glaring down at him, pout still prominent.

The next thing he knew, you were already grabbing onto his shoulders, pushing yourself up the chair.

You sat right on his lap.

Miguel was rarely surprised these days, considering what he did for a living.

But he sure as hell wasn't prepared to have you on top of him.

He could almost feel his brain short-circuit, taking a bit more time and effort for it to get its bearings back into place.

But then, you turned shy, eyes blinking at him all wide with shock as if you didn't know that climbing onto his lap resulted in him and you being so close.

"Hi," you whispered.

"Hello," he murmured, fingers twitching to hold you. He gripped the armrest instead. "Can I ask what exactly it is you're doing?"

"What…was I doing?" you questioned, almost to yourself, scanning the nearly non-existent space between you both before your face lit up. "Oh! I'm trying to talk to you without spraining my neck, genius."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah! You try talking to a six-foot-nine Adonis of a man and see if your neck doesn't hurt after a while."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Adonis, huh?"

"Not like that," you quickly said, voice shyer. "I mean like…huge, muscular, a-and plump."

"Plump?"

"Yeah!" You nodded enthusiastically, pressing your palms right on top his chest, one on each pec. "You've got plump boobs and ass."

He almost choked on air.

"What has gotten into you?" he asked, thoroughly amused.

"You, hopefully."

"Diosito, ayúdame," he muttered, resisting the temptation to take your word for it. You were drunk. You had no idea what you were saying.

Miguel shook his head when you stared at him confused, still slow on your Spanish. Then again, he'd only ever taught you a few phrases so far.

"How many lemonades did you have?" he asked instead.

"Why are you asking me so many questions!" you groaned, head thrown back as dramatically as you could. "It's my turn to ask questions!"

"Fine," he sighed, ignoring the urge to nip at your exposed skin. He heavily disregarded the thoughts that brewed in his head from the way you were innocently squirming on him, trying to get more comfortable, your skirt hiking up in the process.

He was good at keeping his composure, mastered it after years. He could do it for a couple of minutes more.

"Why'd you disappear?" you sighed.

"Too bright. Too loud."

"Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?"

"You were having fun. Didn't want to spoil your mood," he stated the obvious. "Besides, my absence didn't affect anything."

"But it did," you insisted, bottom lip jutting out. "Was gonna ask you to dance."

His brow rose at that. "And what made you think I'll say yes?"

"You always say yes," you said, shrugging as if it was a known fact to the universe.

If it was you asking? Maybe.

He honestly felt a little glad he left the party early. He wouldn't even dare to imagine the outcome if he was seen out on the dance floor with you.

He would much prefer it with no audience—just you and him.

"I don't always say yes."

You narrowed your eyes, obviously not believing him by one bit.

But you didn't bother to argue.

Instead, you plopped forward, arms wrapping around his shoulders, face pressed against his neck.

Miguel froze.

He honestly didn't know what to do with himself.

Well, he wanted to do so many things at once, he just didn't know if he should—too many boundaries, too dangerous to cross.

A battle between logic and emotions.

You chose for him, though.

"Will you just—" You pulled his arms off the armrest, wrapping it around you instead. "Want cuddles, please."

How could he say no?

And for the first time in a long while, Miguel finally let himself go.

Body relaxing into the seat, he pulled you a little closer, palms rubbing soft patterns on your back as he pressed his cheek against the side of your head.

It had been so long since he'd cuddled with someone, so maybe his judgment was a little skewed. But still, he didn't remember it feeling this lovely—not until now.

Or maybe because it was you.

And if he didn't know any better, he'd say you were purring.

"Comfortable?" he hummed, rubbing the tip of his nose against your crown.

You nodded, taking a deep breath, humming soon after, "I've always wondered just how nice you smell up close."

He couldn't stop the flush that crept up his face.

"You're warm," you whispered, rubbing your face against his neck like a cat.

It made him wonder if you'd been hanging around Spider-Cat too much—or Meows Morales.

He'd rather not think about it.

Instead, he commanded his suit to uncover his hands, one less barrier between his palm and your skin. The fabric of your dress did very little to conceal your warmth as he continued giving you comforting rubs.

It made you bury yourself deeper into his arms as if you could go any further.

"This feels nice," you murmured, voice muffled against him.

He hummed in agreement.

You both settled into a comfortable silence after that.

But if he listened closely, the steady thump of your heartbeat was soft against his ears. He found the sound relaxing, and the minuscule romantic part of him imagined it was syncing with his own.

A peaceful rhythm.

Your soft breaths tickled his skin as you snuggled closer, his smile unabashedly painted on his face.

No one was here to see it, anyway.

After a few more moments of calmness, he assumed you'd already fallen asleep. He was already preparing himself to carry you across universes and back home when you suddenly spoke up,

"Can I touch your fangs?"

He blinked.

"What?"

You shifted, pulling back a little so that you could meet his eyes, face so close your noses almost touched.

"Your fangs," you repeated.

Before he could even respond, your hands were already on his face, one thumb lifting the corner of his lip while your other hand found his chin, holding him still.

"Wanna feel how sharp they are," you muttered, opting to use both hands now to pull his lips and expose his canines.

"Very sharp and dangerous," he chuckled despite himself, gently grabbing your wrists to stop your prodding. "Just take my word for it."

"You're pretty when you smile," you said, beaming and proud as if seeing his fangs was an accomplishment.

He rolled his eyes, unable to stop himself from grinning.

You smiled wider in return.

Holding your hands between you both, he absentmindedly started stroking your palms with his thumb.

It guided your gaze toward it.

"Your hands are naked!" you gasped, grabbing his wrists and bringing his fingers up to your face, wonder and awe in your eyes as if it was the first time you'd seen them without cover—it wasn't.

You'd seen him in casual clothes before.

Miguel couldn't stop his laugh from escaping even if he tried.

"I didn't know you could do that!" you said, fully amazed before your brows furrowed, pout coming back. "Why can't my suit do that? I have to get all naked just to feel my fingers."

He didn't dwell on that picture.

"I'll tweak it for you if you'd like," he said instead.

Your whole face brightened.

"Really? You'd do that?" you giddily gasped, bringing his hands up to press your palms against his like a double high five. The way your hand was much smaller than his made his heart warm.

He interlaced your fingers together. "Really."

"We're going to make a suit together!" you laughed, lovely and sweet. "That's a big big step."

He chuckled, gaze carefully tracing your beautiful features, each curve and divot glowing with happiness. He felt tempted to count every perfectly imperfect mark that littered your skin, wanting to know if it was there naturally, or if there was a story behind it.

It was supposed to be a swift glance.

He didn't mean to settle too long on your lips.

Nor did he plan to get caught.

"Stop staring," you whispered shyly.

"You're right in front of my face," he deflected, eyes back on yours.

"I know but…" You trailed off, shifting slightly, the tips of your noses brushing in the process.

"But?" he softly prodded.

"You're looking at me weird."

"How so?"

"Like…" you started, voice dropping into a whisper as if you were disclosing a secret. "You want to kiss me."

He couldn't even bother to deny the truth.

"I'll stop staring," he hummed, words holding no weight as he never removed his eyes from you.

"No!" you protested, turning flustered a second later, shyer when he smirked.

"I thought it was weird?" he teased.

"'Weird' was the wrong word," you said, scrunching your nose in thought. Adorable. "I meant different."

"How different?"

"I don't know," you admitted, leaning a little closer. "But I like it."

"Oh, do you, now?"

"Yeah," you breathed out, hands finding their way to gently cup his cheeks.

Miguel leaned into your touch with a soft smile. "Now who's staring?"

"It's because I want to kiss you," you admitted shamelessly. Your fingers traced the outline of his lips, your eyes following their path.

Miguel kissed your fingertips.

You leaned down and kissed him.

He gasped, eyes wide in shock.

A split second, they fluttered shut, head tilting, whole body melting as he kissed you back.

He spent countless amounts of time daydreaming about this moment, different scenarios, wondering what you tasted like, how it'd make him feel. But fuck—nothing could ever compare to the real thing.

It was so many things all at once.

Relief, hunger, satisfaction, desperation, fondness, fear, mind stopping, heart beating faster, soft lips, warm skin, so lovely, so sweet, so fucking addicting.

Now that he'd gotten a taste, he couldn't get enough.

Miguel cupped the back of your neck, arm snaking around your waist to keep you steady, close.

Your hand held onto his shoulder, the other finding its way into his hair, your fingers combing through the strands.

He lost any sense of control when you pulled.

Gripping your hips, he teased his tongue against the seam of your lips, slipping it in the second you opened up for him.

He groaned at your taste.

You whimpered in response.

The sound made him want to devour you.

But then you started moving your hips.

It was awakening, in more ways than one.

But the rational part of him prevailed because it was for your sake.

He pulled away, gently grabbing your chin, when you tried going back in.

"Slow down," he rasped, holding your waist and keeping you still. "Estás borracho, corazón."

"You know I don't understand," you breathed out, chest heaving, lips all plump and tempting.

"You're drunk, sweetheart," he clarified.

"I don't care," you whined, squirming.

He cupped your face in both hands.

"I do."

You pouted.

"Don't do that."

"I'm not doing anything."

"Don't pout," he sighed.

"I'm not pouting," you denied.

"You are," he said, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip.

Your pout only turned more prominent.

The beep of the clock broke him out of his trance.

It was midnight.

Miguel stood up, taking you with him before gently urging you to stand on your own two feet.

"It’s late. You should go," he said monotonously and stepped back.

You frowned.

He looked away.

"Why do you always do this?"

You were frustrated—no, you were getting angry.

He turned his back on you, eyes on the holograms even though there was nothing worth looking at.

"Do what?" he said, acting oblivious.

"Confuse the fuck out of me," you said, loud with frustration. "You act cold and distant one minute and then you're being nice and sweet the next. You keep your distance but then call me all these cute nicknames sometimes—and yes, you say them in Spanish but I asked Lyla about it once and she told me what they meant."

Traitor—thrown under the bus by his own invention.

"But then sometimes you give in and we get closer but the second I chip your walls you push me away," you continued, getting angrier by the second. "I thought things were getting better between us. But now, you won't even fucking look at me even after we just kissed—"

"You kissed me."

"You kissed me back!" you screamed.

It took him by surprise.

You had never raised your voice, much less yelled at anyone.

But honestly? There was no one else who deserved it more than him.

Slowly turning around, his heart sank when he met your tear-filled eyes.

By instinct, he reached out to try and comfort you.

It only made you angrier.

"You're doing it again!" you growled and stepped back, hands balled into fists.

Miguel stopped, hands up in surrender.

"I'm just trying to protect you," he softly said.

"Protect me?" you scoffed. "Or protect yourself?"

"I'm doing what's best for you," he reasoned, wanting nothing more than to wipe your tears away and kick his own ass for making you cry in the first place.

"You don't know that!"

"Maybe," he said, hands dropping to his sides, dejected. "But I know myself.

"Someone like me shouldn't be with someone as pure and as bright as you."

"No one gets to decide who I should and shouldn't be with," you gritted, taking long strides until you were squaring up to him. "No one but me. That's my choice."

Despite your boiling anger, despite the fact that you were glaring at him in a way that should scare him, despite the absolute animosity that lingered in your voice, your next words couldn't have brought the most opposite reaction from him.

"And I want to be with you."

Happiness, warmth, euphoria—the few things that made his heart burst at the seams.

But Miguel shook his head, eyes dropping to the ground, quickly stomping down emotions.

"I'm only going to end up hurting you," he sighed, pacing back and forth as he rubbed a frustrated hand over his warm face.

"I trust you that you won't."

"Well, you shouldn't," he insisted, eyes filled with longing, wanting to pull you close and taste your lips again despite his words saying otherwise. "You deserve so much better."

"If you believe that so fucking much then be better."

With that, you turned on your heel.

So many things flashed before his eyes, one of which was if he let you walk away now, he was going to lose you, for good.

He fucking panicked.

So much so that he jumped—right over your head.

You squeaked in shock when he landed in front of you.

Miguel didn't waste a second.

He grabbed your face and kissed you senseless.

You stumbled back, Miguel quickly webbing the chair, pulling it just in time for you to land on the cushion.

Not once did his lips leave yours.

He was bending over, hands grabbing the backrest, trapping you against it. You cupped his face, a shiver running down his spine when you trailed your hands down his chest.

But then you gently pushed him back.

He ignored the ache in his heart as he pulled away.

Miguel dropped to his knees in front of you, taking your hands in his, placing a kiss on each palm before he pressed it against his cheeks.

"I want to be with you so badly," he confessed, eyes never leaving yours so you could see it—all of him at your mercy.

"But I'm scared," he whispered, leaning into your touch. "I'm terrified that all I'll ever do is fail you, that I will never end up being the man that you deserve."

"How would you know if you won't try?" you said, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones with the sweetest smile. "And I know you think otherwise, but you deserve to be happy, too."

Miguel didn't know what to say.

So he didn't.

He kissed you instead.

It was slow, reassuring, a soft touch of your lips on his, but never less passionate.

He would've opted to deepen it a little more, but then you downright yawned between the kiss.

And here he thought you couldn't get cuter.

"You need sleep," he chuckled.

"I don't wanna go home," you grumbled, burying yourself into his chest. "It's too far."

"My room, then?" he offered.

You quickly nodded. He could almost feel you grinning against his suit.

He kissed your forehead. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

"Bed?" you gasped, emerging out of your hiding spot to wriggle your brows at him teasingly. "Gosh, take me out to dinner first."

"What am I going to do with you," he grumbled, shaking his head

"Many things, I hope."

He rolled his eyes, pressing the button to let the platform down.

"Miggy, can you give me a piggyback ride?" you asked, pouting for good measure. "I'm tired."

He sighed, turned around and crouched down.

"He doesn't always say yes he said," you giggled.

"Are you getting on or not?"

"Okay, okay, geez." You grabbed his shoulders and hoisted yourself on his back, arms around his neck, legs around his waist. Cheek pressed against his shoulder, you grinned. "Always eager to have me ride you, huh?"

His face warmed.

"I'll drop you if you won't stop."

"No you won't."

Miguel loosened his grip.

You yelped, quickly tightening your hold around him.

"You're so mean!"

He chuckled, turning his head as much as he could and puckering up his lips.

You giggled as you gave him a chaste kiss, pressing your cheek in between his shoulder blades with a deep sigh.

"Lyla, please send extra blankets and pillows to my quarters," he said, smiling to himself when you suddenly got heavier on his back.

He was sure you'd already fallen asleep.

Lyla appeared in front of him a second later, her grin far too wide for his liking.

"Not a single word about this to anyone," he interrupted whatever it was she was starting to say. "Please. Just…give us time to figure this out."

"Gotcha, boss," she said. "But for the record, I'm doing it for her."

"Good."

•••

You squinted at the bright glare that roused you from your sleep. You always close the curtains, it was part of your nightly routine. Why did you forget it this time?

Sitting up, you flopped back down with a deep groan.

Your head was pounding.

Hungover.

You didn't miss this part of drinking at all.

After a few moments, you slowly opened your eyes, the ceiling looking too unfamiliar.

Glancing down, the color of the sheets wasn't the sky blue you recently changed it into. As a matter of fact, that bed was much bigger than you were used to.

This wasn't your room.

In fact, this wasn't your world.

"What did I do?" you whispered, glancing at the nightstand. You saw the tall glass of water first, then the few pills of aspirin.

It was the framed picture that made you realize where you were.

This was Miguel's room.

Memories from last night came rushing in like a train, using your brain as railroad tracks which made your headache worse.

You quickly gulped down the water and meds, throwing the blankets off of you only to flush at the discovery.

Boxer shorts and a huge jacket—you were wearing his clothes.

Stumbling into the en suite, your heart warmed at the extra toothbrush that was already waiting for you.

You quickly made yourself as presentable as possible before making your way to the only place you knew he would be at this time of day.

First to clock in, last to clock out.

The platform was already down when you got there.

It was as if he was waiting for you.

"Morning, sleepy head," Miguel greeted without looking away from the screens.

"Good morning," you responded shyly. You picked at the hem of his jacket, second-guessing your choice of not changing out of it.

You honestly didn't know where to even begin.

As if sensing your discomfort, he turned his chair to face you.

Something flashed in his eyes for a brief moment, something primal as he regarded your figure. It was gone the next second you might as well have imagined it.

"Come here," he murmured, reaching out both hands for you to take.

Walking over to him, you slipped your hands into his, the platform beginning its ascend once you did.

You gasped in surprise when he suddenly pulled you onto his lap.

He placed your hands on his shoulders, his strong fingers curling around your waist.

You couldn't look him far too long in the eyes.

It felt like you'd combust if you did.

"What, now you're shy?" he teased, smirking freely. It was a good improvement, but you didn't know if your heart could take it having him smile at you like that. "You didn't seem to have a problem with this last night."

"Don't remind me," you groaned, hiding your face between your hands.

Miguel chuckled.

God this was so new.

It felt like you were drunk all over again—no sense of what was real and what was all in your head.

But with the soft squeeze on your waist, and the gentle fingers circling around your wrists, pulling your hands away from your face, you knew this was as real as it was going to get.

"What else do you remember?" he asked, thumbs drawing random shapes on the insides of your wrist.

You scrunched up your face. "Everything?"

He hummed, leaning a little closer to nudge the tip of your nose with his, urging you to keep your eyes on him.

"I have no idea how to do this…relationship thing. It's been a while," he started, a faint blush on his cheeks that made him so much more endearing. "But I'm willing to try this—with you."

Your heart grew ten times its size, you were sure of it.

"Yeah?"

He nodded, kissing your knuckles. "If you'll let me."

"We'll figure it out together," you said, holding his face in your hands with a smile.

"I'd like that," he whispered, grin turning cheeky. "On one condition."

"What?" Your brows furrowed.

"Morning kisses are mandatory."

You let out a hearty laugh, sound quick to turn into giggles when Miguel pressed his lips against yours.

It didn't take long for things to get heated.

You were picking up right where you left off last night, a little further given that alcohol wasn't in the equation anymore.

Yet with the way Miguel's hands were roaming your body, grabbing and groping whatever he could reach, tongue hot and heavy as it slipped past your lips, his deep groans vibrating against your palms as you rested it on his chest, his kisses moving their way onto the warm skin on your neck, softly nipping, tongue soothing—it was far more dizzying than any modified alcohol and then some.

It was a familiar voice that broke you off this time.

"Ahem! Uh, hello, I'm here!" It echoed from below. "The baby, too, by the way. So make sure you're…uhm, decent when you bring that thing down."

Miguel pulled away with an annoyed groan, eyes landing on the floating figure that appeared behind you.

If he could kill Lyla with one look—

"What?" she exclaimed. "I didn't say anything!"

"She didn't! You guys just weren't particularly…quiet," Peter B. defended on her behalf, chuckling. "And this place has the worst echo."

"Yeah, that's your fault," you whispered against his lips, pecking him one last time before getting off his lap.

He wasn't particularly happy about that either.

You pushed the button before he could say anything, the platform descending, smiling at him all innocent.

"I'm not done with you," he warned, voice deep with lust it made your whole body tingle.

"I'm counting on it." You winked, hopping off the platform before he could even respond.

Mayday landed in your arms before you could take a step.

"Hi, beautiful girl!" you greeted cheerfully, her chubby cheeks lifting as she giggled at you. "

"I wouldn't rush it," you heard Peter say.

"What?" Miguel gritted, still so annoyed.

"I know you're thinking about having a baby with her."

You bit back a laugh.

The utter silence from Miguel made it so much harder.

"You know nothing," he grumbled.

"Maybe," Peter chuckled, patting him on the back. "About time you made your move though."

Miguel grumbled something incoherent and turned back towards the screen.

Still, you caught the smile he was trying to hide.

It made you warm and fuzzy inside.

You walked over to him with Mayday in your arms. "Say hi to Uncle Miggy!"

Always your best accomplice, Mayday made grabby hands at him, blubbering, "Middy! Middy!"

Miguel sighed, carefully taking Mayday from you, before giving her a soft smile—the only other person he wasn't grumpy to. "Hello, peanut."

She giggled in response, climbing onto his shoulders, settling on them with her arms above his head. She always loved being so tall.

Miguel shot you a glare then, no heat to it at all. If anything, it was filled with pure fondness.

You grinned at him.

"You're a bad influence," he whispered to you.

"I don't think I am, Middy," you teased, standing on your tippy toes to place a kiss on his lips.

The way he suddenly turned flustered was adorable.

And when Mayday made a yucky sound, and Peter B. laughed, you knew your work of teasing him for the day was done.

"Come on, bub, let's go get you ice cream," you called, the little girl giggling in delight before jumping into your arms. You sent Miguel a wink before leaving him to deal with his beloved friend's teasing. Peter was practically waiting for this moment.

Many people regretted what they had done while drunk, especially when it involved something embarrassing.

Not you.

You regret nothing at all.

✫*｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ♛ *.

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