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spamgyu · 4 months

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BACKBURNER // LAST PART (Version 2)

DESCRIPTION: She had grown tired of being on his back burner, the person that he had kept warm until he gotten the girl he has had his eyes set on for years... And with a little help from her friend, maybe... just maybe she'll finally be the first choice. PAIRING: Seungcheol x Reader | Mingyu x Reader GENRE: Angst & Fluff PART 4 | LAST PART - VERSION 1 | SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

She had quit months ago.

He actually was the one that had urged her to do so, making it a point to shame her each time he had caught even a hint of the stale scent lingering on her clothes or skin.

It was a nasty habit she had picked up during her last year of college – craving the thin white cylinder after a night out of drinking. He left her alone at first, at times taking a drag from the cigarette in between her fingers to prolong the buzz of the alcohol coursing through his body.

Unlike her, he was able to quit quite easily – cold turkey.

He had just woken up one day and decided the toxicity was too much for him and he just .... stopped.

Y/n was doing so well, opting to chew gum when she began craving her method of stress reliever; but tonight was her one moment of weakness.

After Seungcheol had left her and Mingyu's room, she attempted to distract her thoughts of doubt and panic by scrolling on her phone and when it wasn't enough, she tried sleeping.

She tossed and turned in her bed for the fifth time when she decided it was no use, kicking off her duvet and bounding to the ABC store across their hotel to purchase a pack of reds.

Mingyu had yet to return from the gym; and truth be told, she was glad.

She didn't want to face him – not while she couldn't even look at herself in the mirror.

Y/n had grown frustrated by her thoughts that seemed to attack her instead of properly creating coherent ideas – coming to a conclusion that she had been the root of all her problems.

If she had just listened to Mingyu and Minghao's warnings when Seungcheol had first swiped up on one of her stories, sending her heart eyes instead of properly complimenting her, she wouldn't be in this situation in the first place.

And if she had just listened to the one logical voice in her head when Mingyu had suggested to fake date, she would have been able to actually get over Seungcheol – as opposed to landing her in a situation in which she and her best friend kissed.

Possibly ruining their friendship.

Though, he seemed to pay no mind to it.

And maybe that's why it bothered her so much.

He was so nonchalant.

"That's a nasty habit you got there." Minghao's voice brought her back down to earth as he joined her in the darkness of the designated smoking area of the hotel – an unlit cigarette in between his lips.

Exhaling a cloud of smoke through her nose, she let out a small laugh – handing him the white lighter she had been toying with in her hand.

He was the only one Mingyu hadn't been able to persuade into quitting. Though, he did cut down significantly; smoking only a few days out of the week.

"Don't tell him." She took a long drag.

It was sarcasm.

Mingyu would be able to tell the second he stepped into the room; he had a nose of a blood hound and knew her signature scent in a crowded room. Her smell of sweet pea and vanilla will be over powered by the grey haze.

She'll worry about his reaction later.

"Why are you out here? Something happened?" He knew her well enough that she wouldn't be smoking for no reason.

The last time he had last seen her with a cigarette in between her lips was after her first day of working in the NICU – venting to him and Mingyu that pushing on to keep her parents happy with following their wishes of her being a nurse was a mistake.

She had nearly smoked a quarter of his pack that day, Mingyu having to pry the carton from her hands; convincing her to accompany them to get dinner instead.

The two spent the rest of the night telling outlandish tales of their most recent Tinder dates to distract the girl, keeping her mind off of her desire to put in her two weeks and wallow in self pity.

"Plenty." Y/n licked her lips, not knowing where to begin.

The two were never shy of sharing their deepest thoughts with one another. They had spent many nights dissecting their minds in her best friend's apartment. She always did cherish how brutally honest he was, not caring to sugarcoat any of his opinions and advices – and she did the same.

"Seungcheol told me he chose me." The nicotine that once gave her a dull buzz felt like a full vibration the second she uttered his name, almost as if it was a forbidden word.

Minghao simply nodded, his bottom lip jutting out.

She kept her eyes trained on the stick that had burned halfway, nestled between her pointer and middle finger.

"But Mingyu and I kissed." Y/n said in almost a whisper; recalling to the warmth of his delicate touch on her cheek and how perfectly their lips fit together. "Made out, actually."

He remained unfazed, nodding once again. "You're confused."

He read her like an open book. He was always good at reading people; some sort of witchcraft probably.

"The reason why I agreed to this shit in the first place was because of Seungcheol. I wanted to be his– but when he told me– when he said he chose me." She put the cigarette back up to her lips. "All I could think about was Mingyu."

She thought she would have been happy to hear him say those words.

"It's you. I chose you."

The person who she was a few months ago would have leapt in Seungcheol's arms without a second thought; happy that she was finally his.

But the change happened so slowly that not even she felt it. The air had shifted without even noticing it; she had slipped from him... and straight into Mingyu's arms.

Y/n had allowed Seungcheol to spill his guts right in front of her, frozen in her spot – unable to muster a single word except an "okay". He had ambushed her the same way she had done during that god forsaken night at his apartment.

She knew he expected more, leaving her room with his shoulders low. Y/n had also expected more from herself; but she wasn't able to complete a single sentence.

The only thing running in her mind was the kiss she had shared with her best friend hours ago. The one that had provided her a new sense of calm, almost as if her world had stopped the second his lips touched hers.

"Are you saying you have feelings for him?"

Mingyu.

"I don't know."

"What do you know?" He pried.

Minghao was always good at asking questions to allow her to properly sort through the mess in her head – simplifying her thoughts.

"I know that this has been the happiest I've been in a while." Y/n began.

Maybe it was the island, hypnotizing them with the warm sun and the surge of dopamine that their false reality that it had provided them during their trip. Or maybe it was the fact that Seungcheol hadn't rattled her brain in a while, Mingyu giving her the distraction she needed.

"I know that I agreed to pretend to date Mingyu for Seungcheol." She went on. "But I also know that it no longer feels like it's for Seungcheol."

In the beginning, their actions were calculated – each one of their instagram posts and fake dates were all for a targeted audience. The two didn't dare cross any lines, keeping a close eye on the end game they both wished to achieve.

The past few days, it seemed as though the line had become quite blurry; especially for her. At first, she thought it was simply because she was finally getting used to the forced close proximity she and Mingyu put themselves in.

She didn't dare bat an eye to all the small moments where he seemed to dote on her, meeting all the needs she didn't think needed to be met. Because it was all things he had done before.

Except now, she was starting to look a little too hard into all his actions.

And it was all because of that fucking kiss.

All those times he answered all her silent questions, making sure there was always a smile on her face, the small gestures, his attention to the minor details of her daily life... They now had her double guessing. All because the man she could have sworn she wanted all this time, had never once dared to do any of it all.

If Mingyu had attempted to kiss her before, at the beginning of their arrangement, she would have pushed him off. She would have given him an earful for even trying to lean in.

A second into his lips locking with hers, she found herself melting into his touch – almost as if her body had been waiting for that moment.

She could have sworn he wanted it as well, being the one to initiate it. He was the one that deepened the kiss, gently pulling her face closer to his – as if she could get any closer than she already was.

Y/n couldn't help but feel a bit conflicted when Mingyu had chosen to dismiss it as if it was just another normal occurence between them; her insecurities slightly feeding into the thought of her just being as one of the girls on his roster.

The feelings she once had for him during their high school days slowly began to bubble back up, remembering all the times she caught herself staring at him in class – wishing he could open his eyes and fall for the girl he called his best friend.

It was a small crush.

And who knows, maybe this could just be her younger self finally fulfilling her life long dream of being with the boy that had helped her with her algebra homework – consoling her as she cried at his dinner table when she couldn't understand why the alphabet was needed to be added into a math problem.

She was .... very confused.

This was all supposed to be about Seungcheol, and now she was wishing he had never come into their room in attempts to make peace.

"Why don't you sleep on it?" Minghao suggested.

"I tried. That's why I'm out here smoking this damn thing." Y/n scoffed at her actions.

She always did hate how easily she reverted back to her unhealthy habits, especially when she had finally made progress.

Minghao opened his mouth before shutting it back again, hesitating if he should even tell her the conversation he had overheard earlier in the day. He had always gossiped with her in Mingyu.

But this wasn't something simple as finding out that his coworker was cheating on his wife with someone else in their department, or the fact the Hansol took Mingyu's little sister out on a date last month.

No, this could drastically change the group's dynamic. It was all so messy.

More importantly, he was always a firm believer of allowing his friends the freedom of making their choice – not wanting to meddle in the possibility of ruining their chances of them learning their lessons.

He was sadistic like that.

Warning Mingyu about how messy fake dating didn't count – he was an idiot and he wanted to save himself from hearing more about how in love he was with y/n all while she was too blind to see it all.

"If I tell you something about Sunhee and Cheol, will it make the organization of your thoughts easier?"

The thing was, Minghao was holding on to a key information that he was itching to spill out. And he was, eventually.... He just didn't think Seungcheol was stupid enough to approach y/n the same day.

He under estimated how his friend's brain operated.

He wasn't supposed to overhear the conversation between the two, but it wasn't his fault they had chosen to have an argument in public – all while he on the other side of the bushes taking pictures of the scenery before him.

Y/n nodded for him to continue. "Shoot."

"Look, they fought earlier." His voice low, as if there could be any one else that could over hear them in the empty smoking area. "He wanted her. He told her it's her he wanted and she blew him off."

She let out a laugh in disbelief, shaking her head.

Of course. Of fucking course.

Y/n wasn't the first choice.

She was still and will always come before Sunhee. He had chosen her because the girl he wanted had given him the hard no.

She thought she would be heartbroken, but instead a new emotion had overtaken her – something that she hadn't once felt towards him.

All of a sudden, y/n began to see red.

Seungcheol had only wanted to make peace because he had nothing else left, and he thought she was stupid enough to fall right back into his trap.

Why did she ever think he'd ever see her as anything else but a seat filler? It was as if Minghao casted a spotlight an all of Seungcheol's actions – shedding light on all those moments she had chosen to turn a blind eye to.

The relationship she had always wished for, the small sweet moments she and Seungcheol shared were nothing but supercuts – a collection of good memories that seemed to have over powered all the others that had left her broken.

All the times he had left her hanging, forgetting the promised dates, leaving her messages on read, and endless nights of nothing but tears came flooding back – and instead of sadness and pain, she felt anger.

How had she let it get this far?

"I know that you're hanging on to the possibility of him changing– and who knows, maybe one day he will. But it's definitely not now." Minghao shook his head.

"You know he told me he wanted to do it right. He said he wanted to earn my trust." She let out a laugh. "God, he's so– He's–"

"An idiot? Dumbass? Asshole?"

"All of the above." She walked over to the metal bowl, putting her cigarette out – digging it into the accumulated ash.

"Sleep on it, yeah?" Minghao called out as she continued her journey to the entrance of the lobby.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

The sound of the curtains opening, the warm rays of the morning sun hitting her face caused her to stir in her sleep, slowly blinking her eyes open – a blurry Mingyu digging in suitcase was the first thing she was greeted by.

She had been asleep when he had arrived back from the gym – not bothering to wake her to notify her that he had brought back the chips she had requested. Opting to place it by the night stand that had divided their beds.

"Morning." She croaked, sinking deeper into the mattress.

Turning his head, he nodded at her before going back to searching for a shirt and swim trunks.

It was their last day before the wedding festivities began and he had under estimated the amount of garments he needed to pack for the trip – despite her warnings of packing extra outfits "just in case".

"You smell." He mumbled.

Mingyu had caught a hint of the stale odor when he had entered the room last night – a scent that had grown accustomed to as it lingered in his apartment balcony due to his roommate's need to fill his lungs with the grey smoke every once and while.

"I– uh, yeah." She didn't bother coming up with an excuse, nor did she have the energy to fight it.

Just as Minghao suggested, Y/n decided to sleep in it. There was no need to make a decision anyways, it wasn't like Mingyu felt the same way – and it wasn't like she had given Seungcheol the final answer.

The only conclusion she had reached was that she was tired. She no longer wanted to be in the middle of a mess due to relationships. More importantly, not the ones that had left her second guessing.

She and Mingyu agreed that their little game of charades would end by the end of the trip, and she would leave it at that. She'll worry about whatever feelings he had unearthed when they got back to the mainland; when the blanket of false reality that covered their friendship has been lifted.

And with the Minghao spilling the truth about Seungcheol's sudden decision to make his pick between her and Sunhee, she knew that she could no longer tolerate him and his little games. Not anymore.

Not when she no longer feels the same way she did months ago.

"Everything okay?" He kept his back turned, almost as if he was afraid to meet her eyes.

"Yeah, just– my brain is a little loud again." Her eyes was trained on his back.

He nodded, setting his choice of outfit for the day down atop of the rest of his folded garments before turning to face her. "Want to let me in?"

Chewing on the skin inside her cheek, y/n sat up in her bed; crossing her legs. He took this as an invitation to take seat where her legs had once taken space.

"If it's about–"

"Seungcheol talked to–" The two began simultaneously, pausing when they both heard one another speak over each other's voice

"You go first." He motioned for her to continue.

Truth be told, he wanted to be left in the dark. Mingyu didn't want to know what had gone down in their room when Seungcheol paid a visit.

Not when he already knows what she was about to say.

He had unfortunately run into Seungcheol in the hallway the night before, his friend giving him the heads up that he had finally made a choice.

Not only that, but he had requested for his assistance.

To allow him to make a move on y/n, to be exact.

Mingyu felt sick to his stomach the remainder of the night, unable to properly work out with Joshua and Soonyoung at the hotel's gym due to Seungcheol's voice ringing in his ears.

"I get it. I'm not your top pick for her, but– I need you to help me."

Mingyu was well aware they had agreed to end their arrangement by the end of the trip, he was completely fine with it. Up until Seungcheol had made him realize that this reality was fast approaching.

Not only that but the fact that he would lose all chances with her completely. As if he even had any chance, judging by her reaction from their sweet moment atop the jeep yesterday – chances were slim to none.

Seungcheol was the reason as to why they were pretending, after all. He made his decision and it was the one she had been waiting for.

All her hopes and dreams of having a relationship with Seungcheol was finally going to come true.

"Seungcheol told me he picked me." Y/n swallowed.

He didn't dare blink or react to the words that had left her lips.

And she couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed by his lack of emotions.

"That's good, right?"

God, someone just shoot him right now.

She shrugged. "Want to hear the kicker?"

He nodded for her to go on.

"Minghao overheard him telling Sunhee that he wanted to be with her just hours before he came and talked to me."

There was the expression she was looking for.

All the theories, the conclusions that he jumped to, were proven wrong.

His brows furrowed, the corner of his lips curling. He was angry.

"You're joking."

Y/n shook her head, letting out a small laugh. It was a pity laugh.

"You know what, fuck him." Mingyu rolled his eyes. "Had the fucking nerve to ask me to allow him to–"

"What?"

"What?" Mingyu replied quickly, realizing he had let his emotions overtake him – spilling his interaction with Seungcheol just minutes for he had entered their room.

"What did he ask you?"

Sighing, knowing that there was no way she was going to let it go. "I ran into him on the way to the gym. He told me all about his plans– God– I believed him. He seemed so sincere. He– "

Groaning to herself, Y/n leaned back against the headboard. "Stink, I'm so tired."

He looked at the girl, his eyes softening at the sight of her in pure defeat. His heart ached to see the girl he had been pining for, raising the white flag after the constant emotional beating she had received from Seungcheol.

Especially when he knows he could treat her far better.

"Come on," He reached to pull her up by her arm. "Just a two more days and you wont ever have to see him. I'll– I'll make sure he doesn't come anywhere near you."

"Thank you."

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

She scoffed at his acts. Watching as he laid his towel down in between Joshua and Jeonghan, actively avoiding Sunhee.

Seungcheol made it a point to make eye contact with her whilst he did this, almost as if it was his way to tell her that he was staying true to his words from the night before.

Y/n continued to apply the tanning lotion on her bare skin as the rest of the group happily helped themselves to the spam musubi Seungcheol had so generously bought just before they had all met at the beach – mumbling "It's warm this time." only for her to hear when he had set it down.

She couldn't believe it, but his efforts made her feel sick.

"Want some?" Mingyu asked, offering her a bite of the rice wrap.

Y/n shook her head. "Kinda craving an acai bowl, if I'm being honest."

Mingyu knew she had declined because it was purchased by Seungcheol and not because of the reason she had just said. He didn't dare press on the open wound, allowing for her to sit in silence as they listened to Seungkwan babble on about the prank Soonyoung and Chan had pulled on him earlier this morning.

The two boys had managed to get a copy of Seungkwan's room key from the front desk, ambushing him at the crack of dawn – putting on an act as if he had over slept and had missed the wedding. He had been so exhausted from the past few days, half asleep as he allowed for the false sense of panic from his two friends to trick him into getting dressed in his suit.

The group had doubled in laughter as Soonyoung jumped in, claiming that Seungkwan was nearly finished with buttoning his white long sleeve when he had realized it was all a joke.

"I never thought I would hear 'asshole, fuckers, sons of bitches, loser low lives' all in one sentence." Chan laughed, hitting the sand.

Joshua clutched his stomach, wiping the moisture from his eyes. "Oh my god, ow."

"Idiot." Mingyu laughed, shaking his head.

"I miss having us all together." Jeonghan hummed as the laughter subsided, leaning back on his elbows. "We should have more destination weddings."

"Not everyone is bleeding money like you, Han." Joshua snickered.

"Seungcheol is." He countered. "Doubt he'll marry soon, though."

"Pretty sure our only hope is Mr. Finance Bro and Ms. Nurse over here." Seokmin gestured over to Mingyu and Y/n – with their joint income, there was no second guessing they'd be able to ensure an all expense paid trip for the whole group.

"Yeah, if she doesn't break up with me." Mingyu snorted.

He was planting seeds in their heads for their inevitable end.

Y/n bit back the frown that threatened to form in her lips, not wanting any of it all to stop.

Stupid fucking kiss.

"Thin ice buddy." She joked, playfully shoving him.

They were playing a role, after all.

"Please, as if you two could find a better match for each other." Jeonghan rolled his eyes. "We've all been placing bets since junior year."

That caught the two's attention, Mingyu choking on a single grain of rice; nearly turning red from coughing.

Unbeknownst to the two, their friend group had been conspiring behind their backs – exchanging knowing glances with one another whenever the two bickered.

They claimed that they bickered like an old married couple, and it would only be a matter of time before they decide to resolve their small argument with a kiss.

Y/n disguised her shock with laughter, reaching over to pat Mingyu's back in attempts to soothe him. She didn't know how much more new revelations her poor brain can take.

This was not helping her thoughts, whatsoever.

"Don't act too surprised." Jeonghan laughed. "Speaking of, if I remember clearly, Seungkwan and Hansol you guys owe me $200 each. I take Zelle or Apple Pay."

"Doesn't your bank account have enough zeroes?" Seungkwan sassed.

"A bet is a bet."

"That we made years ago!" He cried.

Thankfully, the boys had decided to drop the subject – going on about the remaining few hours of their day lounging about on the sand.

Y/n had pulled her sunglasses over her eyes, shielding her from the sun and Seungcheol's lingering stares. It was almost as if he was waiting for any chance to speak to her, at times joining in on any conversation that had involved her or Mingyu.

It was stark difference to how he had previously been acting towards them in the past few days, joking around with no trace of his snarky tone or snide comments.

Mingyu chose to go along with change of attitude in his so-called friend, keeping his act going strong – as if Y/n hadn't told him about his sneaky plans of getting her back.

Don't get him wrong, it angered him. If he had it his way, Mingyu would have confronted Seungcheol in a heartbeat.

Maybe even landing a punch.

But he also knew it wasn't the right time or place, not when it has been years since the whole group was complete.

The girl laying next to him on the other hand had made her emotions quite obvious to Seungcheol; purposely avoiding his eyes when it was his turn to speak and choosing to pretend to not hear any of his attempts to spring up a conversation.

"Play nice." Mingyu mumbled only for her to hear as he leaned back on his elbows, going down to her level.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She smiled sweetly. Her way of feigning innocence to her recent actions.

Chuckling, Mingyu couldn't help but playfully pinching the tip of her nose; scrunching at his touch. "Watch out, they might catch you being a raging bitch."

"I still don't know what you're talking about." She hummed.

Mingyu had to fight yet another urge to lean down and plant a kiss on her lips, finding her a little too cute with as she continued with her oscar winning act.

Biting his lip, he sat back up on his towel – their distance had become quite dangerous for his liking and he didn't want another repeat of yesterday. "Gonna go play with the guys, wanna come?"

Glancing at the half empty row of towels, Y/n let out a sigh. She wasn't in the mood to be tossed by the waves that were currently crashing on to the shore – but it was far better than being left behind with Jihoon, who she barely knew, Joshua, and Seungcheol.

"Fuck it." She sat up, taking Mingyu's hand that had stretched out in front of her – helping her up off of the ground.

He didn't let go.

And she was more than happy with allowing his fingers interlock with hers as they made their way to the water.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

She had gone ahead of Mingyu, leaving him behind the small dining hall Jeonghan and Eunji had held their rehearsal dinner at – her social battery blinking at 0%.

Y/n felt the shapewear she had worn under her dress dig into her stomach, the strap of her heels cutting into her toes – she needed to change out of into a much more comfortable attire.

It wasn't like there was much else for her to do down there anyways; most of the family and friends that had been invited to the small gathering have retreated back to their rooms not too long before she had excused herself.

She knew if she stayed any longer, she'd just get talked into drinking more mixed drinks with the few that had stayed behind – and she wasn't really in the mood to have a hangover during the wedding.

Y/n could see her hotel room door, when she heard footsteps fast approaching behind her.

It was almost like a trauma response, she immediately knew that pace of walk – speed walk to be exact.

Seungcheol.

God, when will it end?

Turning to greet him, she was caught by surprise to see that he had closed their distance quite significantly – standing only a foot away from her.

"Did I do something wrong?" He asked, breathlessly.

He wasted no time slipping out of the hall when he had noticed she had bid her goodnight – following her up to their floor.

"What are you talking about?" Y/n deadpanned, pretending to not understand his sudden question.

"I–you've been avoiding me all day." Though she wasn't being too discreet with her actions, she didn't exactly think he would be able to catch on to it.

He never did paid attention to her before, anyways.

Apart from her active decision to give him the cold shoulder earlier at the beach, Y/n had successfully done the same during the rehearsal dinner.

She had kept her eyes on everywhere else but him, even going as far as leaving the glass of wine he had so kindly retrieved for her at the bar – claiming the one glass she had finished was enough.

Only for her to take sips of Mingyu's whisky the remainder of the night. He didn't care to protest, offering her the glass after he would take a swig himself.

"I thought we were on the same page." Seungcheol went on. "I– I said I chose you, and I'd prove it. I– you said okay."

Y/n didn't dare fight the urge to roll her eyes, his face flashing a look of confusion at her sudden hostility. "Do you think I'm that stupid?"

"Wha– what's going on?" He looked around, as if it was some hidden camera prank – waiting for a crew to jump out and surprise him.

"Minghao overheard you two at the ranch. He told me everything."

Silence.

He was dumbfounded and she was not even a bit shocked that he seemed to have lost his ability to speak.

She knew that he didn't think she would ever find out about what had happened between him and Sunhee – and judging by his reaction, he was never planning on telling her.

"You didn't choose me." Y/n scoffed. "Sunhee rejected you."

"What difference does that make?"

Y/n felt the blood under her skin begin to grow hot.

He was so fucking dense.

"You don't get it, do you?" She took a step towards him; Seungcheol nervously swallowing as she closed in on him. "You didn't choose me because you wanted me. You wanted a seat filler, a replacement. I'm not going to be your backup plan because your original one failed. I'm not going to be that girl anymore."

Anymore.

"Wha– oh my god... you fell for him, didn't you?" The light bulb in his head had turned on. "You're blowing me off because of him. You know he's not going to treat you any better–"

"Than what? You?" Y/n interjected, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I mean, you said it." Seungcheol shrugged, that stupid cocky smirk playing on his lips – that same one that had been painted on his face during their first few days on the island.

She began to feel the beat of her heart thump against her chest, the anger consuming her. He knew how to get under her skin, and he knew how to do it well.

He had been caught red handed and she knew he wasn't going down with a fight.

And neither was she.

"Being with him made me realize that the time I had spent with you was nothing but a waste of my time."

"You know it's not real right? When we get back home, he'll go back to his old ways."

His old ways.

Back to the line of girls that had waited for a chance with him.

The smirk on his lips grew larger as he watched his words get into her head, knowing that he had struck a nerve. "He's just like me, Y/n. You may not choose me, but running to him won't serve you any better."

"Fuck you." Y/n gritted her teeth, clenching her fists at her side as she fought back the tears of frustration that threatened to fall from her eyes.

She hated that any hint of anger made her cry.

And God, was she fuming.

"You have, multiple times." He raised his brows. "Remember?"

That was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Her hand was far quicker than her brain. It wasn't until her palm collided with his cheek that she had fully processed what she had done.

It was long over due and it felt good.

"Whoa, what's going on here?" Mingyu's voice called from the end of the hall – quickly running over to where the two stood. He had slowly made his way out of the elevator when he heard the loud smack echo through the walls – sobering him in an instant.

Mingyu had wedged himself between the two, using one arm to move y/n's body behind his. He wasn't too sure what had taken place, or what had prompted the loud sound – but he knew it wasn't anything good.

Nothing Seungcheol was involved with has ever equated to the word "good".

"I think it's time for you to go to your room, Cheol." His voice firm, towering over the man in front of him.

Seungcheol didn't need to be told twice, scoffing as he turned his heel towards the other side of the corridor.

"Are you okay?" Mingyu's eyes wide as he faced her, placing both hands on either side of her shoulders as he scanned her. "Did he hurt you?"

Y/n shook her head as the pads of his thumb wiped away the remaining tears on her face. "I slapped him."

"Oh." Mingyu paused.

"He– I can't believe I defended him for so long." She sniffled.

A wave of embarrassment crashed into her as she recalled all the times she had made excuses for all his actions like her life depended on it. She could have sworn the man she had initially fell for was not the same one she had just faced, unable to fully wrap her mind around what had just taken place.

"Everyone makes mistakes." Mingyu used the sleeve of his button down to wipe her nose, earning a laugh from the girl.

"I don't have snot, you idiot." Y/n lightly smacked his arm away.

"I know." He laughed. "Just wanted to make you smile."

Seungcheol was wrong. Though they had shared some similarities, Mingyu was nowhere near like him.

Especially not when it came to her.

Mingyu had and will always treat her delicately. He would never dare say or do anything to hurt her.

Like he said a few days back, he'd do anything for her happiness.

Getting over him may just be far more painful that getting over Seungcheol.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

To say the setting was beautiful was an understatement; the grassy lawn of the hotel had been transformed to any bride's dream.

Various kinds of white flowers lined the rows and the altar, creating a sight that only a girl could have imagined and pinned on her pinterest board.

Y/n's breath had been taken away when she had first taken a seat, snapping a few pictures before they were instructed to put all their devices away for an unplug ceremony.

She couldn't help but be in awe as the each second passed, shedding a few tears when she had caught a glimpse of Jeonghan's lips quivering at the sight of Eunji making her way down the aisle.

"Jeonghan," Eunji spoke into the mic, taking her turn to profess her vows in front of their guests; a wide grin on her face. "People often talk about how difficult relationships are and I happily can say that I can't relate to them. I get that relationships takes a lot of work, but being with you have never felt like this. It's like I clocked into a shift with my favorite coworker. Our days have always been filled with laughter, the only tears you've ever brought me were when you would make those stupid silly jokes that I love so much. They say love is hard but our love has been the easiest part of my life. And I guess, it's because you have made it so easy. You're not only my life partner but my best friend and I can't wait to start this new chapter of our life together. Today, as I stand here in front of our families and friends, I Park Eunji take you Yoon Jeonghan as my lawfully wedded husband."

While everyone clapped, some wiping away their tears, Y/n couldn't help but let here eyes stray to the line of groomsmen that stood behind Jeonghan — her eyes meeting Mingyu's who has had his eyes trained on her even before Eunji began her vows.

Everything Eunji had described about Jeonghan was what y/n had come to realize about Mingyu two days ago. That easy love, those days filled with laughter, the silly jokes – they were all connecting back to Mingyu.

Y/n had always thought that when someone was in love, they felt butterflies in their stomach – creating a restless buzz each time they were near the person they were destined to be with.

She had mistaken the lack of butterflies whenever she was around Mingyu as her not actually having any feelings for him – but simply being caught up in their act of faux lovers.

This whole time, it was because he brought a new sense of calm upon her. She had been in a constant state of fight or flight for such a long time that she failed to realize that he was the only one that could pull her out of it all the chaos that surrounded her.

He was the calm after the storm – hurricane to be exact.

Sending her a wink from where he stood, Mingyu couldn't help but crack a smile as she returned it.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

They were both returning from the bar, each with a drink in hand, when the sound of familiar chorus of voices blared through the speakers.

It was as if they the same thought had ran across their mind at the same time, exchanging knowing glances before letting out a soft laugh.

Baby I'm yours. And I'll be yours until the stars fall from the sky.

It was their song.

They were both well aware it was a love song, but they didn't care. It had held some weird attachment to the two, being the first song she had recommended to him when they were teenagers.

It was her poor attempts of hinting her feelings towards the boy at the time, but his undeveloped frontal lobe never put two and two together – finding the melody of the song beautiful.

She had played it countless of times around him that when he had later heard the song without her, his mind went straight to all the times she would softly hum along to the tune.

She had pavloved him.

This song would follow them throughout the years, having it's fair share of being blasted in their cars or apartments – obnoxiously dancing and singing along to the old time tune cover.

They were at their assigned table within seconds, setting their drinks down. Before she could even take a seat, Mingyu had stepped in front of her – holding his hand out.

"May I have this dance?" A playful grin on his lips.

He wasn't going to waste this perfect opportunity. It was their last night together as a couple.

Their last dance.

He was never going to have this same chance again, and he was going to make the most of it.

One last time.

"You may." Y/n laughed, taking his hand – allowing him to lead her to the center of the room, joining other paired up bodies.

"Oh gross!" Minghao pretended to gag as he took their unattended drinks – claiming it as his own.

"Yours until the poets ran out of rhyme..." Mingyu sang, spinning her.

A giggle emitted from her lips as he caught her, dipping her before they swayed like two idiots.

"I didn't get to thank you for last night." Y/n relaxed her arms around his neck.

After they had gone back to their room, he allowed her to join him in his bed – patting her back as she cried into one of his pillow. He listened until she had fallen asleep in the middle of her endless rant — rambling on and on about how stupid she was to allow Seungcheol to continuously break her heart.

Mingyu didn't dare wake her, knowing that the her emotions had taken a toll on her. Instead, he allowed Y/n to stay – making sure not to cross the metaphorical boundary he had drawn in his head as she lightly snored on the left side of the bed.

By the time she woke, he had already left the room – having joined the rest of the groomsmen for their scheduled breakfast and pre-wedding game of golf.

Not without a text notifying her of this, of course.

Not that he needed to tell her, it was out of pure courtesy.

"S'fine. I just hope the next guy you date doesn't give you a hard time." Mingyu shrugged.

He had hoped the next and final guy was him.

"Are you getting tired of wiping my tears?" She countered, playfully.

"Tired of seeing you cry over men." He corrected.

"Me too." Y/n sighed. "I think I won't date any guy until I find the same kind of love Eunji described. You know, the easy kind. The one that makes all the shitty days not seem all that bad."

She maintained her eye contact with him as she spoke — and if he had been able to read her thoughts before, he would be able to tell that she was describing him.

"It wasn't a mistake." Mingyu hoped he had guessed her unspoken words correctly. "I meant it."

He was talking about the kiss.

Y/n felt her breath hitch in her throat — coming out as a hiccup.

She had initially felt unsure about her feelings towards him — afraid that it was nothing but her mind playing tricks on her.

But she also knew him better than she knew herself. The second she had caught his stare after Eunji's vows, she had never felt more sure in her life.

He had felt the same way.

It was only a matter of how either one of them was going to bring it up.

"How long?" Y/n knew that he wasn't one to act impulsively around her — she hated surprises.

Even the good ones.

She knew that if he truly meant to kiss her, it was something that he had been thinking of for quite some time now.

"Been waiting for months now."

"Months?"

"Maybe even years." Mingyu replied with a shrug.

"Years?"

This was it. He was going to finally allow himself to tell her the same words he had recited over and over again in front of the mirror.

As the final chorus of the song began, Mingyu allowed for the singers voices to drown out all the other noises around them — his eyes blurring everything but her.

"It's always been you." Mingyu's voice was soft, his hand reaching up to tuck a loose strand behind her ear. "To me, there was never first, second, third, or fourth choice. It's you."

He looked at her in pure adoration, his brows turned down and eyes filled with stars — a look she had never seen before.

"It was you when you spent nearly every day waiting for me to finish basketball practice in high school. It was you when you stayed up all night to help me study for my econ final at the library our sophomore year in college. It was you when you rescued from a shitty dinner at my parents five months ago. It's you now and it's going to be you tomorrow, and the next day, and all the days after that."

All while she was hoping to be the first pick in Seuncheol's life, she had been the first and only in Mingyu's.

He didn't dare keep a spare — he knew no one could measure up to Y/n.

As the song wrapped up, he stepped away from her — giving her one last spin before pulling her back in. "I hope it's me too." He whispered.

Taking his hand, she guided him away from the chaos of the party and out into the stillness of patio, with the only thing to be heard was the muffled music behind the closed doors and the distant sound of the waves crashing on to the shore.

"You know, you never gave me butterflies." Y/n began.

"Did you bring me out here to rej—"

Y/n held her hand up, stopping him mid sentence. "I guess I was so used to the emotional rollercoaster that all my exes have put me through that I began mistaking that gut feeling, you know— the one that warns you that something was a bad idea— as butterflies. Whenever I'm around you, I don't feel anything in my stomach because I feel safe."

Mingyu's confusion had once again turned into adoration, practically melting into her hand as he clung onto her words.

"That easy love Eunji spoke of, the one I said I wanted. It's you." Y/n continued. "You're the easiest part of my day— hell, you're the easiest part of my life. Whenever I'm with you, I have no worries, no doubts. It took me a while but, it's yo—"

Mingyu couldn't wait any longer, he was practically bouncing on his toes before he closed the gap between them — swooping down to capture her lips with his.

"Wait—" She pulled away with a giggle. "I have more to sa—"

Mingyu shook his head, dipping back down to meet her lips. "Save it for your vows." He mumbled.

Vows.

Pulling away once again, y/n gave him a look — all while he pouted.

How many times was she going to do this?

"Wha— don't tell me you said all that with no plans on marrying me."

"Are you saying you want to marry me?" She emphasized.

Mingyu used his thumb to gesture over to where the reception was currently being held, his head tilting. "Did you not just hear what I told you on the dance floor?"

"Yeah but—"

"Exactly, so can I please kiss you now?"

"Yeah okay—Ah slow down." She held up a finger, wagging it at him. "I swear to God, Kim Mingyu if you break my he—"

"Shut up, stink." Kissing her for the third time in under five minutes — smiling as he felt her relax under his touch.

All those heartbreaks, the tears he wiped – they were finally ending.

War has ended.

Y/n was finally in the arms of the man that never dared to put a frown on her face, getting the love that she deserved.

@thepoopdokyeomtouched/ @scuzmunkie / @yunjin0 / @morkswatermelonnnn / @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan / @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken / @naturelvrgfstealer / @bettybotterboughtabitofbutter / @musingsofananxiouspotato / @f4iryjjosh / @gatorgirl007 / @girlwithimaginarybiaslist / @daisawa / @ttragiquee / @luchiet / @loveforred /@vannabanana1995 / @uniq-tastic / @porridgesblog / @haolistic / @bbl32 / @calumsfringe / @alsktudy / @chansbaybygirl / @alwaysalmostthere / @listxn / @soupbinlily / @hanniebaby95 / @yonabutnotyuna / @buffhoshi / @kawennote09 / @wwwellacom / @hanniebaby95 /

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loganlermanstanaccount · 10 months

Text

Rigor Mortis (part 1)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Prologue, Part 2

summary: After the breakup, you move into a new place.

warnings: no warnings! cheeky bit of angst at the end

a/n: this is me admitting that realistically, miguel would be sick of our shit.

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here <3

wc: 4.2k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

or in the cold, crisp morn:

"These are the keys," Your new landlord hands you the copies, clinking against each other as you transfer them to a dish by the door. Your first thought is that there seem to be too many for this modest apartment: of varying shapes and sizes, and at least half a dozen. He steps through a wide archway to the kitchen, eerily clean. It's not modern by any means, the top half of a hulking brownstone some time away from college.

It’s been… a trying summer. Moving halfway across the country with your boyfriend had seemed like a great idea at the time. Younger you (barely 2 years ago) had been enamoured with the promises of city life: fast-paced, bustling, and never a dull day. Naivete and big ideas that you'd been too stupid, or maybe too desperate, to let go of. After being locked in a loop of the same 3 or 4 places, the same dozen faces - in a place as big as this, mind you - maybe your ex-boyfriend had freed you. Forced you from that halfway-home; as cold and empty as it had become; and back out into the world.

The reality was less than ideal - apartment hopping across the city for the past 4 months or so. You’d seen it all: glorified shoeboxes, fancy duplexes, viewing sublet rooms that were at least a little illegal. A box within a box within a box; coat closets rented out for double your monthly take home; and you had just about given up.

So this place seemed like a godsend: a brownstone, tucked away. Its interior is dated, but gorgeous. It had character: quirks and rich history in the brick and mortar. A fireplace tucked into the corner, window alcoves, wood panelling. Yes, the wallpaper was slightly warped with damp but it’s affordable - a reasonably priced gem that had made you jump when you saw the ad. With the overexposed and pixelated images, they didn’t do it justice.

You pad into the kitchen, running your hands on the smooth countertops. They’re bare and spotless - suspiciously so. Not many personal items, no fridge magnets, photos; nary a blanket on the sofa or half eaten plate of toast on the worktop. It’s so clean it feels staged, and it makes you squint. Isn’t there meant to be…

“I let Miguel know… he must’ve cleaned up the place-”

“Miguel?”

“The other tenant.” He pauses, boots clicking on the grain of the floorboard. “I don’t think he’ll be back until later tonight. Should give you some time to settle in.”

Nodding, you give him a small smile, and he steps out of the apartment. Your apartment.

~~~

You fill the rest of day with unpacking, putting some life into the place. You’d visited not long ago, fantasising about how you’d decorate. Something about sharing an apartment with your boyfriend for the past 2 years had done something to you: flattening and squeezing into a space not built with you in mind. How Jamie didn't like things on the walls, or how he needed the space for his textbooks, so why don't you find somewhere else to put your little stories? If his desk took up half the front room, then that makes sense, he needs it for work. But God forbid you needed a quiet space to study; what if the guest bedroom has your shit everywhere when his friends come over? A million compromises that didn't seem much like compromises: you'd give an inch and he'd take a mile. And so, the space to spread your wings without knocking over a gaudy plaque or two was very much appreciated.

You want to walk around the neighbourhood, map out the convenience stores, bodegas, community hotspots and hubs. Where's the best place to get a drink? The cheapest meal? Your usual haunts were a fair distance away, so maybe you'll make the trek and pick up waffles from Pam's, as a treat. Tired already, you slump on the sofa - a tattered old thing that can clearly take a beating. Looking around the place, something settles solidly at your chest. Contentment, maybe, a strange feeling considering the past few months. This will do, you think. This will do.

Perhaps it's not a very feminist thought, but you're not thriving . Thriving felt presumptuous, and yet coping seemed too complete a word - its implication too tidy, too neat. A mess, before; better, now…? And it didn't quite span the width and depth of the past few months; how long it had taken for the numbness to make way to anger, hot and intense - its flame fueling many a long night. And yet, maybe coping was just the way to describe your foray into this new chapter: a new year, new apartment, and whatever that brings. You had forgotten what it felt like to be alone; not lonely, but with only your own self for company. Without the ache of another person, for the first time in a while.

…except, you had a roommate. Which you had known when signing the lease, of course, but it's taken some time to sink in. What that means for you - a new person to tiptoe around and appease - you're not too sure yet. What is he like? He's out late, so maybe a chronic partygoer - sloppy drunk and vivacious, the life of the party. He might clatter into the apartment, chattering and bubbly. What do you know about him? From the apartment, as is, it doesn't tell you much. At first glance, it had looked too clean, but not unreasonably so if he had anticipated your arrival. No, it was the lack of personal effects that confused you. How long has he been living here and there aren't any pictures or knick knacks? To clutter is to be human, you think. And with the front room as blank as it is, you wonder just what kind of man he is.

It's getting late. Naturally, you do some snooping, lazily padding around in search of life. Onwards and upwards, to new frontiers: the cupboards and drawers in your new apartment.

He likes coffee, you learn. There's a fancy machine on the kitchen counter, glossy and shiny and clearly taken care of. Little packets of beans and filters line the cupboards, all with names you can't quite pronounce. The fridge is similarly well-stocked, with none of the junk food you've gotten accustomed to in the past few months. Its innards are leafy green and plush; labelled tupperware with leftovers notwithstanding. All the spices in a tray above the oven and fancy knives on the wall tell you he likes to cook, or rather, he likes to eat well. The lack of junk would take some getting used to - maybe he's a health nut? The type to go on runs at the ass-crack of dawn, to blend oddly coloured smoothies, and "reflect" after a long day of… dog walking or something.

You move on to the living room, running a light hand over the deep walnut of a side table behind the sofa. Again, it's oddly bare. When you tug at the drawers, it's brassy handles are solid. Locked. Kneeling, you run a hand across the larger cupboard door at its base. You pull at it, and it pops open with a click. Inside, it seems empty, save for a dusty box nestled in the back corner. With your top half almost completely inside its depths, you move it into the light.

It's old, a battered shoebox adorned with coloured sharpie - shaky drawings of flowers blossoming from its sides. The cardboard crackles when you open it. It's full of junk, mostly: half-dead pens, broken crayons, dried flowers, and little plastic toys - the kind you get from cereal boxes and happy meals. And, there's something peeking out. Confused, you dig a little deeper, to uncover a pair of… soccer cleats? They're tiny, clearly for a kid but seem barely worn, with minimal scuffing on the plastic blades.

"What the fuck are you doing?" A voice from above rumbles, and your head snaps up like a rubber band. You hadn't noticed the door open, and you are met face to face with, who you assume to be, your roommate.

He doesn't shout: tall, broad, and back straight by the door. He's got a backpack slung over his shoulder, dressed in a crisp white shirt and slacks. His name was… Miguel? Miguel crosses his arms, brows furrowed in quiet rage. Fuck.

"I was just looking for.. uhh…"

You know how it looks. It's the worst time for your brain to go blank, and you're left holding the hypothetical bag. You stand up a little too quickly, and smack your knee on the lip of the table. Half of the box spills onto the floor and you dart downwards, embarrassed.

" Shit. Sorry, let me-"

He leaps towards the floor, and you're forced behind him, as he scrambles to put everything in its place. You start to help and he stops, stock-still. As if in slow motion, his head turns to the side and he gives you a look that could kill thousands. Retreating, you shrink back, only able to watch helplessly.

" Chica tonta... ¿se crió en un rancho? ¿qué clase de persona entra en casa de alguien y toca todas sus cosas?" He's muttering something under his breath - too fast and not saying anything you can understand. Pausing, he throws you a look. "...y luego me ve como si yo fuera el que está mal- ojos grandes y bonitos como de perrito pateado...oh dios mío.-"

[silly little girl… was she raised in a barn? what kind of person walks into someone's house and touches all of their stuff? // and she looks at me like I'm the one in the wrong - big, pretty eyes like a kicked puppy… oh my god-]

He's gentle with the box, the way he puts it in its place contrasting his mood a couple of seconds before. He closes up the door and you stumble to your feet. In the glow of halogen bulbs, he follows, arms crossed like a mother hen.

"I think… I think I'm your new roommate?" You say your name and stretch out a hand, but Miguel doesn't move. You watch as his eyes sweep over your body, shameless.

"Are you asking, or telling me?" He sighs, pinching at his temples.

"...Telling?" You offer him a weak smile, and he cracks.

Softening, ever so slightly, he grumbles. "I know. I know. Mr Estévez said you would be in tomorrow, though."

"I like to be early."

"Right. Well… don't do that. Again, I mean." He clears his throat. "Don't touch my shit either. It's too… fuck , it's too late for this. I'm going to bed."

He kicks off his shoes, and all you can do is watch as he saunters off; the door to his room shutting with a resounding slam .

~~~

His name is Miguel O'Hara - not that he told you that, or anything. He hasn't spoken to you much at all, leaving you to figure out who he is and what he does from vague clues around the apartment. You don't go snooping , learning quickly from previous mistakes; but his full name on a letter slotted through the mail was fair game, you think. The most you've gotten out of him were grunts and frustrated requests to keep to your shelf in the fridge.

Passive-aggressive wasn't in his vocabulary, you’re convinced. A plethora of dirty looks in his arsenal? Sure. Plenty of vulgar swears in Spanish? Absolutely. Miguel was not, however, passive-aggressive. Just… aggressive. Not angry, of course. Upfront. Abhorred any passivity and indolence: umm-ing and ahh-ing for the sake of it.

So naturally , you were sent to kill him.

You tiptoe around the apartment, avoiding him at all costs. At first, it wasn’t on purpose, just the awkwardness of your first meeting bleeding into the next week. But you dodge and weave like an expert boxer - particularly impressive in the small space. Miguel’s in the kitchen? Suddenly, you’re not very hungry. He’s curled up on the couch for a movie? Wow, look at the time: and you're heading to bed. You can’t read him very well, and don’t trust yourself enough to look him in the eye without fear of melting under his gaze. The few short interactions you have, you crumble; a brush against his shoulder in the kitchen, or legs against his on the dining table. Not that Miguel offers a peace branch, pursing his lips when you’d make eye contact, somewhat frustrated at your theatrics. Call it cliche: you’re avoiding confrontation at all costs. It manifests itself in peculiar ways: the Shower Incident being the most memorable.

The Shower Incident, aptly named, happened not too long ago. The apartment is old , as you soon learnt, coming with its own plethora of quirks. What you had first taken as character and charm - window seats and wood panelling - also came in the form of a building half falling apart. Creaky floorboards, leaky pipes, and a distinct lack of central heating. The discounted price, that had seemed like a bargain before, clearly lacked some creature comforts… like heating. And a working shower.

As you’d been in a rush, you clattered into the bathroom; stripping in no time at all. Bare feet on the tile, and you turn the knobs at the base of the shower unit. You’re not going to pretend you know how it works, just yet, but… it’s not rocket science, is it? The brassy spout sputters; but with no luck. Groaning from the pipes makes you jump, before huffing in frustration. This is not the time; late to yet another 9.00am? You want to be different this year: organised, put together, and on time to your lectures. On your tiptoes, you peer down the shower head hesitantly, like it’s the barrel of a loaded gun. With cruel irony, it sputters to life, sending a face-full of ice-cold water your way.There’s a scream, as you scramble at the handles, scurrying out of its brunt; desperately trying to turn it off.

Unbeknownst to you, Miguel leaps out of his room towards the shouting, with a fumble and clunk of his feet on wooden floor. He’s quick , hand hovering on the bathroom door before you can register it; his voice echoing outside.

“Are you…” There’s scuffling, which you can just about hear over the pounding of the water against tiles. “Are you okay, in there?”

You wince, stepping out of the shower – legs shaky like a baby deer – as you gurgle. “...Yeah?”

“Can I –” He clears his throat. “Are you.. clothed ? Can I come in?”

You scramble for something to cover yourself, settling for a plush towel on the rack. Wrapping yourself up, you brace yourself for the grimace that's sure to be on his face. Tentatively, you crack the door open. There Miguel is, face knitted with worry.

There's a flash of confusion at the scene, and then, what you think is relief. Relief you haven't cracked your head open, most likely: the blood would be hard to clean from the grout. You feel guilty, as you've probably broken it, or touched something you shouldn't. The shower is still on; sputtering, starting, and it becomes a strange sort of background music to your silent exchange.

"I don't know how to use the shower." You say with a small voice, guiltily.

" No me digas…" No shit, he mutters, face back to the furrowed brow you're starting to become more familiar with. He sighs, easing up. "You hurt?"

You shake your head, and swear you see a small smile on his face. You looked like a waterboarded rat, probably: big watery eyes and shaking with the sudden cold.

A mess , he thinks. But not a bad view.

He's still in workout clothes from his morning run, compression shirt and lazy shorts that hug his ass on; as he turns towards the shower. With some sense of shame, you try not to stare, to not watch the muscles of his back and arms flex as he angles the shower head away from his face. It's not enough that you've embarrassed yourself – twice, in the space of a couple of days – but the fact it was in front of your roommate, who is maybe the most beautiful person you've seen up close. Which, granted, narrows the field; but Miguel is gorgeous, a flash of pink tongue sticking out as he concentrates, wide palms toggling the dial.

"You need to be careful… push it in slightly when you turn the-" You crane your head towards his movements. "Come closer, or you won't see what I'm doing."

You move towards him, half naked and shivering, trying not to buckle with the heat of his body next to yours. This is what you get for not having spoken to a man since your ex: a tight coil at the base of your stomach for someone that you've done nothing but unwittingly terrorise for the past week.

He explains, patient and even-tempered; how to use the shower and you half-zone out to the low tone of his voice. There's no malice, or pomp in his words when there are a million things he could make fun of you for - that Jamie may have made fun of you for. You look up, at the sharp lines of his face, and chew at your lip, deep in thought.

"...and this side is for hot water. Next time, just ask me – instead of almost drowning."

You nod, embarrassed. "Sorry."

"...For what?" He says, softly. "Place is falling apart, anyway. It's not really your fault." You're convinced everything you touch in this house breaks, but with the way he looks at you, you believe him.

"Just ask me, next time." He echoes and makes for the door, stopping to drag his eyes up and down your frame. Oh… oh. You like that, the way he looks at you shamelessly, practically undressing you.

He smiles, amused at your deer-in-headlights expression.

"...I think that's mine."

He nods to the towel wrapped around your body and your eyes bulge out of their sockets. " Fuck , I didn't realise-"

He shrugs, noncommittal.

"...Seems like you need it more than me, anyways."

~~~

It's a rough first couple of days, and then a week, and then two. The rhythm is all off: like the jerky stop and start of an old car. He wakes up early to go on runs at the ass-crack of dawn, and you stay up late to finish papers and assignments. He has a job, you think, darting out at the same time once or twice a week in smart clothing and a backpack. Sometimes, you catch him hunched over a laptop or scribbling something in a beat up old notebook. Maybe, he’s a student - even if he doesn’t seem quite like the fresh-faced 19 year olds you see around campus. Although, you suppose it’s not implausible; you were one of the older people in your classes, after all. It’s hard to imagine O’Hara, stony-faced and serious, at a… dorm party, or something. To be that carefree, he’d need to get rid of that stick up his ass, first.

You’ve got a day off from lectures, using the time to catch up on the reading you should’ve done over a hectic break. The list seems to go on and on, already, this early into the year. Internally, you’ve made a promise to be on top of it all - the little hiccup with Jamie, notwithstanding. You’d knuckle down this morning, reading ( scanning) and summarising ( liberal use of the copy-paste function) in preparation for the rest of the semester. Miguel’s locked up in his room, somewhere, so you use the opportunity to spread out onto the dining table.

There’s a knock at the door that makes you look up from the muddle of words on your screen.

When you open the door, there’s a woman there with a notebook in hand. She’s pretty, in a classic sort of way, ginger braids cropped to her shoulders and lips slathered with gloss. Her outfit is relaxed, but carefully curated: a tight jumper and long brown legs stretching out from a black skirt.

“Hi.” She says, visibly keening. It’s clear she wasn’t expecting you, but she quickly recovers and gives you a blinding smile.

“...Hi,” Honestly, you’re a little confused. You haven’t seen her around the complex before; so who she was, you hadn’t a clue. Too pretty to be a door-to-door salesman, and too hot to try to convert you to Mormonism, you think. Whatever that means.

You wait expectantly, as a beat passes.

“Oh!” She laughs, and it sounds like puppies and rainbows, much too bright and airy considering the time of day. It makes her next words even more of a shock. “I’m looking for Miguel.”

With her last words, she steps a little closer; scanning the apartment from her vantage point. Something in you bubbles up, but you try to choke down the laughter.

“You’re looking for...Miguel?” Even out of your own mouth, it sounds absurd . The man had no friends, as far as you could tell. He seemed like the type to lock himself away in his enclosure, only stepping out for work, school, the bare minimum. In the short week that’s passed, his ‘enrichment time’ had consisted of a dry documentary on spider mating cycles - which had been a shock to walk into, the first time.

So someone here, at the apartment? Looking for him? Fidgeting, you scratch at your neck. “Uhh, I ca-”

“Sorry about that, Jia. You can have a seat.” His voice comes from behind you, and Jia breezes into the apartment, perching on the sofa. Legs crossed, she reaches into her bag, taking out a laptop and a pen and paper. He’s changed out of his workout clothes, donned in a loose white sweater and casual trousers - relaxed, for once. With a limp thud, you close the door. There’s an odd feeling as you look around at the scene: tension, and you feel like you’re interrupting. Miguel clatters around in the kitchen, fumbling for mugs and coffee filters and God knows what else.

“...was it two sugars, or three?”

“Three!” She throws over her shoulder, tapping away at her open laptop. “I like it sweet, Miguel.”

You squint. He laughs : a small chuckle that comes with a heat at the base of your stomach. Your head almost aches, trying to recalibrate; reconcile with the version of the person you’ve barely seen around the apartment to now - present, engaged, and personable. Exasperated is the only word for it. Miguel O’Hara was, in fact, capable of joy. Dickhead.

He barely acknowledges you, but Jia does; batting her wispy eyelashes in your direction, curious. The tapping stops, and she curls the corner of her mouth up with a hint of a smile.

“You gonna introduce me?” She calls out to Miguel, and then smiles to you; warm and genuine. It makes you feel a little more at ease. You catch the end of a sigh coming from the kitchen.

“Jia, this is my roommate.” He glances up to gesture towards you. “...this is Jia. I… help her out with work, sometimes.”

From the couch, she rolls her eyes. “He’s too modest. He’s my tutor, technically.”

With that, your eyebrows shoot up. Of everything you’d imagined him doing, tutoring students wasn’t one of them - especially considering he seemed barely out of college himself.

“...Technically?”

“He doesn’t like to advertise it, because he’s picky with his clientele.” She giggles and he scoffs. You get the feeling there’s a joke flying over your head, just out of reach. “Word gets out on campus that Miguel’s tutoring again…”

“ Vale, vale ,” He grumbles, but his tone is good-natured and light. “S’enough, Jia.”

She gives you a wink, before turning towards her work.

You walk towards your things, still on the dining table. He’s got his head buried in a kitchen cabinet and you look on, wanting to ask a lot of things. The words seem to die in your throat: too big, too small, not the right shape. She's a stranger; that knows where the coffee’s kept and the best spot on the couch. That makes Miguel laugh . You want to ask him about the stranger in your home; but you’re too scared he’d turn and point the finger at you.

He walks to the couch, balancing two cups of coffee. You look back. Next to him, her presence is an oddity - a blip in his carefully crafted universe. With the warm sheen of familiarity, she nudges his shoulder. Taking careful sips, he pointedly ignores her, tapping a finger at her screen - as if to say, pay attention. She smiles, wide; an asteroid across the depths of space, dazzling and brilliant in the night sky.

The exchange… it makes you think. If Miguel is the Sun, and Jia, a bright body in orbit: what’s your place in this four-walled cosmos? Where do you belong?

Rigor Mortis Taglist: @bunnyrose01 @lavenderslemonade @tsukkie-daisuke @malxoxo @thekidscallmebosss @vvitcxen @theyoutubedork @doublevirgogirl @jnghs @taleiak @noblesavagex @cumikering @rebeccawinters @evanpetersrightbigtoe @saucypeanuttt @pix-stuff @maliarenee @truthuntolddd @honeycovered-bandaids @aiyaaayei @aeeliy @amplsblog @sikrettt @opuffmango @spear-bitch @maddielikesmoths @lemonpepsi @sweet-strawberryhoney @lacedinweb22 @bubbsby @jing5uan @ellaandorersoct @hibarbiesblog @valentxi @kittym1ka @delulu-dia @melovetitties @yohoe-hoe @acollectionofcells1 @froggi-mushroom @thund3rthighs

@teacoffeeflavored @chuuyara@qiapia@rotten-zombi3@bonbyon @tianyhi @noelsilly @frieddesigninspiringquotesslime @peachsteven @thesquidni@fatenpara @verr-uckt @kurakasabe @kamiko32 @mushy-mushroom04@izzys-hawttea@theandromedastar @wicked-futures @truthuntolddd @prettygirlpattinson @hellokittylover202 @angel-eyes05 @lacedinweb22 @starguiders @buggiecrawls @eugeab @tarjapearce @whoreloll @path0logicalpeoplepleaser @ancientbeing10 @shartythefarty@royalhearts

@bonthebunnie @natthernandez @strawberrymiguel @twwcs @mammonispunk @um-well @renn-pumkin-head @ietherealkistar @smallishbook

#miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #eventual smut #angst #kat_writes😼

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imtryingbuck · 3 months

Text

Eighteen

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky comes from a well respected family, he falls in love with a girl who prefers the simple things in life. Follow their journey through the years.

Word count: 5,786

Warnings: fluff, angst, heavy use of pet names. eating humans (doesn’t happen obviously and it’s only said as a joke) mentions of cheating, mentions of past suicide attempt

A/N: No description of reader other than she has curly hair.

Masterlist Series Masterlist

It had been three years since she was last at home, three years at private school and it was amazing for her.

She made friends with two of the girls there Natasha and Wanda, they had introduced themselves to her first and Wanda shyly had asked if Y/n would like to be their friend, she hesitated at first but eventually said yes which brought a huge smile to Wanda’s face and a shy smile to Nat’s.

They accepted her with open arms and Nat even enjoyed playing in the mud and climbing trees with Y/n. When that fateful day came where they saw her scars she panicked and knew that they wouldn’t want to be her friends anymore but instead of judgemental or looks of horror Wanda burst out crying and pulled her in to a bone crushing hug whilst Nat stood there cursing in Russian. For the first time since James she opened up to what had happened to her.

Not even Steve knew the whole story, especially not Sam. Sam had heard things but chose not to listen; he chose to wait until she had said something herself.

Once she had finished telling them everything she was comforting the two red heads reminding them that she was okay now.

It had felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders and for the first time she felt like she could breathe.

If you saw one of the girls the other two was close behind.

Throughout the three years that had passed she had heard about Bucky, Sam and Steve from her parents. The boys had showed up a few days after she had left so James could apologise and when they found out she had gone James started to cry, Steve and Sam too. When she heard about that she wanted to go back home to make up with her boys fighting with herself on whether or not she should but ultimately she decided that she wasn’t going anywhere. James had made it perfectly clear that he wasn’t her friend and that he never wanted to be in the first place.

It was a hard decision for her to make but luckily she had Nat and Wanda by her side supporting her.

Now that school was over she was heading back home, she had decided she didn’t want to go to college and after a bit of back and forth with her parents - especially her mom - they agreed to let her do what she wanted to do.

“We’ll see each other in a month Wands don’t cry” she says hugging Wanda who was in fact balling her eyes out.

“A month is so long away an-and what will I do if I’ve forgotten your face or-or your voice?” Ever so dramatically Wanda cried.

“Really? Really Wands it’s four weeks you’re not going to forget anything about me and if you do I’ll have to punch you in the arm”

“Please don’t, but you’re right. I’ll just have to go on living without you my friend, go go leave and don’t look back, I don’t think my heart could take it” Wanda says bringing one hand across her face and the other clutching her chest.

Y/n looks at Nat who stands there with one eyebrow raised “this…this is our best friend”

“I know. Wand why do you have to be so dramatic all the time?”

“Hey I’m not dramatic I’m traumatised!”

Nat and Y/n burst out laughing, shaking their heads at the red head. “Traumatised? Wanda I love you but you my friend are so dramatic”

“I’m trying to be…emotional and romantic well not romantic because even though I love you Y/n I have to admit baby girl you’re not my type”

“Don’t say that-“ Nat says quickly but gets cut off.

“I-I’m not y-your type? H-how dare you!”

“Great just great, look everyone these two weirdo’s are my best friends!” Nat shouts pointing at her friends.

“I have to be honest with myself Y/n/n okay, I can’t keep lying to you it-it’s not fair, I’m sorry” Wanda says in a wobbly voice.

“No, no I understand. I’m just not good enough for you and that’s the truth! Don’t keep lying to yourself Wanda!”

“Guys please stop…” Nat butts in.

“Great you’ve upset our daughter!” Wanda shouts throwing her hands in the air.

“Me? Me? Well guess Wanda she might not even be yours! That’s right I cheated on you with your father!”

“W-what? H-how could you? I loved you”

“But you don’t love me anymore now the truth can be out there!”

“To be fair Wanda could possibly be my dad because we both have red hair…”

“She gets her attitude from you Y/n, how could you do this to us?”

“Us? You’re the one that literally just said I wasn’t your type!”

“Guys please, I don’t want to come from a broken home”

“Oh Natty come here sweetie me and your maybe father was just playing” Y/n says opening her arms for Nat to shuffle into. Wanda then wraps her arms around the pair.

“Well ladies that was a very moving performance if I do say so myself but it’s time for you to break it up and leave” Mr Walters says from the steps leading up to the school.

“Right, sorry sir. Emotional day” Y/n speaks first.

“A lot of truth came out sir, we needed it” Wanda then says.

“Wanda might not be my father sir, I’m so depressed” Nat shrugs.

“I’m…I’m actually traumatised because of you three. Thanks for that.”

“Rude. Well goodbye sir, thanks for being the best teacher ever!” Y/n waves.

“Bye ladies, good luck with everything” he says walking back in to the school, he had to admit that he was going to miss seeing the trio and miss their antics.

“You’re such a teacher’s pet” Nat laughed.

“It’s called respect madam, something you clearly don’t have for your mother!”

“Y/n, baby it’s time to go” Maria interrupts whatever Nat was going to say.

“Coming. Well ladies I guess this is it, it’s been a pleasure knowing you but this is where the curtains close, I bid you adieu.” Y/n bows.

“And I’m called dramatic” rolling her eyes Wanda bows too.

“Alright guess I’ve got to do the same” Nat follows along.

“But no in all seriousness I’m so glad I met you and I’m forever grateful to the pair of you”

“Always Y/n you know this, we’ll always be friends no matter what and we’ll see each other next month” Nat said as she pulls Y/n into a hug.

“I love you both” Wanda says wrapping her arms around her friends.

Pulling away they all smile at each other.

“Last one to their parents cars are a rotten egg in 3…2…1”

They take off running to their parents; Y/n first, Nat second and Wanda third.

“No fair! You guys know I’m terrible at running!” Wanda shouts from her parents’ car.

The drive home was filled with conversations, laughter and catching up. It had been six months since they had seen her in that six months she looked more grown up, more sure of herself, happier.

Maria couldn’t help but smile as her daughter rambled on about what her and her friends had been getting up to. Amazed by how she looked so much like her mama, Maria made it her sole mission to make sure Y/n got a few photographs of her and her mama from the hell hole of a house she grew up in. Maria had kept one for herself it was a photo of Y/n who was roughly three or four years old with her arms wrapped around her mamas neck who had a baby Y/n in her arms as they stood outside a cabin, both smiling widely as the camera captured a beautiful moment between mother and daughter.

It was only after seeing that photograph that Maria understood where Y/n had gotten her crazy unruly hair from, Maria knew that Y/n was blessed to have taken her looks and traits from such a beautiful woman.

Y/n didn’t know that her momma would go to her mamas grave and put fresh flowers down every weekend or how she would sit on the hard ground and speak to the woman she never met before and talk for hours telling her how their daughter was growing, how she was cheeky and caring, how smart she was. Or how just before she would leave the grave where her birth mom laid Maria would place a kiss to her fingers and place them on the headstone and say “thank you my friend” because yes even though she had never met the woman and that she was no longer alive she had become Maria’s friend, and every time she thanked the woman it was for giving her a wonderful gift, Y/n.

“-mom? Momma are you even listening?” Y/n says.

“Oh, sorry darling yes I’m listening”

“No you weren’t but it’s okay I was just saying that Nat had found a rat in her bag and she screamed so loudly it nearly burst my eardrums”

“To be truthful I would have done the same thing” Maria chuckles.

“I know! I had to calm it down because it had gotten scared, I mean well so would I if I had Nat screaming and trying to hit me with a bag” Y/n giggles.

Shaking her head she was so happy that Y/n had Nat and Wanda as friends, they treat her good and were really amazing friends to her daughter. When she met the two red heads she was taken back by watching their dynamic and how well Y/n fit in so perfectly.

“Natasha’s reaction was perfectly justifiable” she points out.

“That’s true but she could have calmed down, I was there and we all know I’m great at talking to animals and calming them down” she smirks.

“Very true angel, listen…please don’t be mad-“

“No…dad you both promised!”

“It wasn’t our idea angel but George’s and Winnie’s, darling they’ve missed you-“

“A party dad? I suck at those things”

“It’s not a party but more like a get together-“

“So a party. Uncle George and Aunt Winnie don’t do “get togethers” dad and you know that”

“Well it’s happening and you’re going to enjoy it, you’re going to smile and have a good time and you’ll thank George and Winnie afterwards” Howard speaks.

“Yes Master”

“Good boy”

“Treat?”

“Not yet”

“Do you want me to give you my paw?”

“Mar our dog talks way too much, I told you we should have gone with a German shepherd and not a Chihuahua”

“Oi I’m not a Chihuahua! If I had to be a dog I probably would be basset hound…”

“Why?”

“They’re so cute and lazy and small”

Howard lets out a booming laugh as he nods, Y/n joins in whilst Maria looks at the driver who’s trying not to laugh “would you be a dear and crash the car for me please?”

“No don’t, I can’t get a treat if I’m dead” Y/n laughs out causing Howard to laugh even louder.

“‘A get together’ yeah alright dad! It’s like the whole world is here” she scoffs.

“Don’t be so dramatic, come on and don’t forget to smile”

Half of the people who had showed up she didn’t even know and the ones she did were either nice to her or people who helped to torment her but doing as her father said she smiled at everyone, saying her thanks when people congratulated her for graduating school.

“My sweetie!” Winnie’s loud voice came from across the garden, Y/n watched at the woman who she’s missed dearly nearly runs over to her.

“Miss Winnie, I’ve missed you!” She wraps her arms around her third mother figure.

“I’ve missed you too my sweet baby, oh look at you! All so grown up and so bloody beautiful, where’s that’s little girl who broke my heart all them years ago gone?”

“I killed her and buried her in the backyard but don’t tell my momma or dada that” she giggled.

“I won’t don’t worry your secrets safe with me” Winnie winked.

“Is-is that…no I don’t believe my eyes. It’s my darling girl!” George shouts ignoring all the looks that get thrown his way as he makes his way over to Y/n and Winnie.

“Hi Mr George”

“Oh my, you’re as beautiful as ever!” He picks her up and spins her around just as he did when she was little “oof and your heavier”

“George!” Winnie scolds.

“What have they been feeding you at that school hey missy?” He asks completely ignoring his wife.

“Humans from all over the world” she winks with a shoulder shrug.

“Are they nice? I’ve been thinking of getting into eating humans”

“Honestly? I recommend that you should, tasty” she laughs, George and Winnie joining in.

“On a serious note though, I’ve missed you darling and I’m so proud of you. And please remember I love you, you’ve always been our daughter too. Oh God I’m so fucking proud of you” George says with tears in his eyes as he remembers the first day he met her, how small and scruffy she was, how scared she look. After what that monster did to her he was scared that she wasn’t going to survive. It’s true though, he and Winnie saw her as their daughter before Howard and Maria adopted her.

“I love you both too and I will forever be indebted to you both”

“Nonsense silly girl” Winnie says.

“Are you trying to steal my daughter away?” Howard laughs as he walks over.

“Obviously, the plan is to knock you and Maria out and I’m going to kidnap this one” George says.

Howard laughs which has George turning to Y/n “he thinks I’m joking, but I’m not”

“Don’t wind him up” she laughs.

She’s oblivious to the conversation that’s happening on the other side of the garden as she laughs with her parents and surrogate parents.

“My sweetie!” He hears his mother call out and he knows instantly that Y/n has arrived as he looks in the direction his mother is making her way over to his breath gets caught in his throat.

His Bunny.

His Bunny all grown up.

His Bunny all grown up and looking just as beautiful as she looked the last time he saw her.

There hasn’t been a single day that’s gone by where he hadn’t regretted this shit that spewed out of his mouth that day. When he found out that she had left it felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest and stomped on a million times.

Of course he was never friends with her out of pity, she was easy to talk to, she made him laugh, she was his best friend, his person.

His soulmate as Winnie would say.

But every day he reminded himself that he only had himself to blame.

“I-is that…” Steve questioned with his eyes trained on his best friend who he hasn’t seen in three years.

“Bunny” Bucky nods.

“Holy shit she’s gorgeous” Sam says.

“Yeah she is” Bucky agrees.

“When are you going to talk to her?” Steve asks.

“I’m not. She’s not going to want to talk to me, not after what I said the last time we saw each other”

“That was three years ago Buck, it’s Y/n she’s no doubt forgiven you”

“I doubt it. Steve you have no idea how sad she looked man”

“Bro just go and talk to her” Sam says taking a sip of his beer.

“I-I can’t, are you two going to talk to her?”

“Yeah…well I was going to wait for her reaction with you first before making my way over to her” Steve admits.

“Same if she hits you then I’m staying away but if she doesn’t then yeah of course I’ll talk to her”

“Cheers” Bucky grumbles his eyes refusing to move away from her.

They all watch as she laughs with her parents and Bucky’s, they don’t stop the smile from forming onto their lips as they watch their best friend.

They all carried their own guilt from three years ago and all silently hope that she forgives them for what happened.

“Buck go and talk to her” Steve tries to encourage his friend mainly so he could then talk to her.

“Yeah…yeah I’m going to do it” he puts his drink down on the table before straightening his shirt out.

Just as he was about to take that first step closer to his Bunny he stutters when he sees a tall bulky guy with blonde hair walk up behind her and wraps his arms around her waist, watching as she squeals turning around in the guys hold.

He watches as she places her hands on either side of his face and places her lips to his.

He’s pretty certain that he hears his heart breaking.

“Buck…”

“Huh? Yeah?”

“A-are you alright?”

“I’m fine, so she’s got a boyfriend that’s cool” he turns to pick his drink back up and downs it in one gulp. “Do-do you think she’s happy?”

Steve and Sam share a look before answering. “We’re not sure pal”

“I hope she is, t-that’s all I’ve ever wanted for her.”

They continue to watch as Y/n introduces the guy to Bucky’s parents and they can tell instantly that Winnie’s smile is fake, she’s always been the one rooting for Y/n and James to get together. The smile on Y/n’s face is as big as it ever was as she stares up at the guy.

“How do you think they met?” Bucky asks.

“God knows, but as long as he treats her right that’s all that matters really.” Sam says eyeing Bucky cautiously.

“I hope so”

As the party winds down the boys not barely moving apart from Sam as he raids the table with all the food on it. They watch as the blonde guy leaves, not without having a make out session with Y/n.

As the guests start leaving Bucky’s quick to notice that Y/n is no longer around and when George stumbles over to the boys he finds out that Y/n’s disappeared and wonders if they had seen her, they all shake their heads.

“I think I might know where she is, hold on”

He makes his way down to the bottom of the garden and climbs over the fence, really hoping he was right.

“Bunny” he whispers when he sees her sitting on the ground in the spot they claimed as theirs, the same spot he first laid eyes on her when he was just seven years old.

“Hi James” she whispers back keeping her back to him.

“C-can I sit next to you?”

“Sure”

For the first time since the two have known each other they sit side by side in uncomfortable silence. It pains the both of them that this is how it’s come down to this.

But unfortunately it had.

“So-um-how are you?” Bucky asked as he stumbled over his words.

“I’m good, what about you?”

“Good, that’s good. I-I’ve missed you Bunny” he admits, his heart squeezing when he sees her flinching.

“Oh”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I just don’t know why you would have missed me when you didn’t want me to be your friend anymore or ever”

“I didn’t mean it Bun I swear. I was angry an-and I took it out on you, I’ve regretted it ever since”

“Why was you angry? I’m the one that had my back exposed to the whole school and the three people who were my only friends, the only people I trusted more than anything didn’t try and stop it or-or even try and help me. You had no right in being angry James” he hates how she doesn’t raise her voice and hates that she calls him James.

“I know and I’m sorry Y/n I really am”

“It’s okay I guess.”

“No it’s not! None of the shit I said or didn’t do was okay, you’re my best friend Bun and I should have stuck up for you. I shouldn’t have said I chose Dot over you because you always came first no matter what”

“It’s okay because it doesn’t matter anymore, I got over it”

“Over it or over me?”

“Honestly? Both”

Bucky released a choking sob at her admission, she had gotten over him and he didn’t know what to do. “Bun-“

“You shouldn’t call me that James, don’t want to upset your girlfriend”

“I-I don’t have a girlfriend”

“What happened with Dot?”

“She-I walked in on her having sex with Brock”

“Really?”

“Yeah, she said it was a one time thing but he said they’d been at it for months so…”

“I’m sorry, I never liked her”

“Did you even know her?”

“No…what kind of name is Dot anyway?”

“It’s short for Dolores” he laughed.

“Stupid name for a stupid girl. How long were you two dating for?”

“A year, actually walked in on them the day after our one year anniversary”

“That’s cold”

“Yeah. What about you? Lover boy back there” he watches as her cheeks start to turn red and a shy smile on her lips, his heart pounds loudly in his chest at the sight.

“His names Pietro, w-we’ve been dating for five months now”

“How did you two meet?”

“He’s actually my best friends twin brother, we met when her family came up to see Wanda and she introduced us and yeah, he asked me out on a date and then another and another then he asked me out”

“Does he make you happy?”

“He does, well when he’s not talking with his mouth full” she giggled, and for the first time in over three years she looks up at him. Breath gets caught in her throat as he’s looking just as beautiful as he looked the last time she saw him.

“I’m glad, not about the food in mouth when he talks thing but I’m glad he makes you happy”

Not knowing how to reply they fell back into silence but this time it was comfortable.

Y/n was the first one to break the silence “do you know if anyone lives in my old house?”

“No one wanted to move in after…you know”

“Oh. Have you ever been there?”

“Once, I didn’t go in or anything I just stood outside”

“When?”

“A few months after you left. I’m not sure why I did it but” Y/n stood up and held her hand out for James to take and helped him stand, pulling her hand away from his once he was stood up she started to walk in the direction of her old home.

“Come on slow pokes” she called over her shoulder.

“Y/n are you sure about this?”

“My therapist said that it might help me to be able to finally move on”

“You’re in therapy?”

“Yeah, mom said it might help after what I did”

“W-what do you mean?”

“I tried to kill myself” she shrugged.

As she carried on walking she hadn’t realised that Bucky had stopped. She had tried to end her life and no one told him. Bucky had lost her as his friend and nearly lost her in this world completely and no one told him.

“Ducky?”

His heart stopped at that name.

“Duck? Come on we’re not that far now”

“Y-you called me Ducky”

“Well yeah that’s your name isn’t it?” She smirked.

“Bunny please don’t joke about this. You called me Ducky even though we’re not friends anymore”

“You’ll always be Ducky to me James. And who said we’re not friends anymore?”

“We-we aren’t?”

“Nope, we said we’d be friends forever and forever hasn’t ended yet so therefore our friendship is still intact, come”

“B-but what I said”

“It’s in the past”

“Can we go back to being Bunny and Ducky again?”

“Well of course, that’s if you actually did want to be my friend and not just doing it out of pit-“

A loud squeal echoed through the woods as Bucky charged at her picking her up as if she weighed nothing and spun her around. “I never meant what I said Bun never not for one second, please forgive me and I promise I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you”

“Buy me an ice cream and all is forgiven”

Laughing he puts her down slowly and nods “I can do that. Bun”

“Yeah”

“Yo-you tried to kill yourself?”

“Yeah, it was about a year ago”

“Why did you try and do it? Why wasn’t I told?”

“I was in a dark place Duck, remember my special place?-“ she taps the side of her head and watches as he nods “-well it wasn’t special anymore and-well I don’t want to get in to it but it got bad so I wanted to end it”

Rolling her sleeves up she showed Bucky the two angry long scars on her arms, he slowly reached out and gently glided a finger down the scars. “Nat found me in the bathroom and screamed out for Wanda who went and got a teacher, Mr Walters came running and picked me up rushed me to the schools nurse and I was taken to the hospital when an ambulance arrived. My parents were called and I begged them not to tell anyone that included your parents Ducky, they don’t know.”

“Bunny…”

“I’m okay now though, yeah I have bad days still but it’s not as bad as it had been and Dr Cho is incredible, she’s so sweet and she’s never once judged me about anything and she makes me laugh, oh and she always has sweets!”

“I should have been with you Bun, I’m so sorry I let you down”

“Hey none of that! It’s not your fault at all, mental health is a bitch-shit-fuck-please don’t tell momma I swore!”

“You still don’t swear?” Bucky laughs.

“No momma says it’s unladylike”

“You? A lady?” He has to stop walking and bends over with laughter.

“Oh shut up! I could be a lady”

“Never!”

Y/n knows it’s true herself but that was beside the point.

“Shut up. Come on I need your support to get this over and done with”

“I’m coming Bun, are you sure you want me here with you?”

“Always”

The rest of the walk was done in silence and before she realises she’s standing in front on the wired fence surrounding her old home. Looking at Bucky she musters a smile that he knows is fake and presses down on the fence and climbs over.

Waiting for Bucky to do the same she stares at the slowly decaying building that’s haunted her nightmares since she was seven years old. The ivy wraps itself around the house, windows are smashed from either Mother Nature, kids playing in the woods or animals. For some reason the building looks just like it’s supposed to - a building. She feels quite silly for letting it terrorise her dreams now that she’s standing in front of it, it doesn’t seem so scary now.

“Bun, we don’t have to go in if you don’t want to” Bucky’s gentle voice came from next to her.

“No I’ve got to, I’ve got to put the monster to bed once and for all. It’s-it-can we just wait out here for a few minutes, please?”

“Of course Bun. I’m right here”

A few minutes go by and she finally puts one foot out in front of the other, taking slow steps towards the place she once called home a very long time ago now. Her chest starts to feel tighter as she got closer to her nightmare.

Pushing the door open Bucky stepped up first knocking the cobwebs out of the way before moving back to where he was before.

“Thanks” she whispered.

I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. She chanted softly to herself as she forced her feet to move forward.

It was weird. As she walked further into the cabin she saw the small dinning table laying on its side, the two chairs broken and the small dingy couch still in the same spot as they were that night her father nearly killed her.

The floorboards creaked under their feet as they moved around the place.

“Th-this is where it happened” she whispers to Bucky as they stand in the middle of the room.

“Bun-“

“That’s my blood Duck” she points to the faded blood stains on the floor.

“Bun-“

“It’s creepy isn’t it? I laid right there and was on my way to play with angels before the cops showed up and now my blood is stained into the wood”

“Bun look at me, come on Bun look at me. Good, it’s okay. It’s all okay”

“I-I know it’s just creepy isn’t it?”

“Yeah, yeah it is”

“Can I show you my room?”

“Okay”

Walking down the hallway she comes to a stop in front of the first door on the right and she starts to push the wooden door open, both wincing as the hinges squeak.

“Nothings changed in here ah” Y/n moves over to the tiny desk her mama had gotten her she smiles “look…”

“It’s a stick Bun”

“Ah nope it’s not any old stick Ducky, it’s the stick you picked up the second time we met”

“What? Really, you kept it?”

“Of course aha. Hey can you help me move this?”

“Sure”

They move the desk - well Bucky did whilst Y/n stands there and watches - Y/n thanks him before kneeling down on the floor and started to lift up the floorboard smiling in victory when she sees the metal tin her mama had put there when she was five.

“What is it?”

“This, this has my toys that my mama hid so that he wouldn’t break them” she sits with her legs crossed and smiles up at Bucky as he sits across from her.

“Toys?”

“Yeah, but not any old toys Duck, no these are animal toys-look” she groans as she pulls the lid open “this is a giraffe, this is a sheep? no a goat, and an elephant-“ she lists off all the animals in the box as she blindly hands them over to Bucky who’s sitting there with his eyes fixed on her, the way her smile lights up makes his heart tingle, the way she sounds so happy brings a smile to his face. It had been so long since her saw her shine so brightly.

“And here’s a photo of me and mama”

Taking the photo his eyes bounce from the photo to her, it was the first time since he was either eight or nine that he’d seen a photo of his Bunnies mom “you look just like her”

“No, she’s beautiful”

“Exactly.” He smiles when her cheeks start to go red. “Hey do you have anything of your mamas?”

“Just photos” she shrugs.

“Come” he helps her put all the toy animals back in the tin and stands, helping her raise too he takes her hand and asks “is this her room?”

“Yeah why?”

“Let’s see if there’s anything of hers still here so you can have them”

“Duck…”

“It’s okay Bunny” he opens the door instantly shutting it before placing his body in front of the door.

“James?”

“I-I-we can’t go in there Bun”

“I know. Is there still blood?”

“You know?”

“Yeah, that’s the reason why he nearly killed me that night. I tried to find my mama and went into her room and well, yeah”

“Oh Bun”

“It’s okay, I want to go in it might help me feel closer to my mama if I have something of hers”

“Just don’t look at the bed okay baby”

Baby. Her heart shouldn’t stutter the way it did.

“Okay”

Bucky opens the door making his way over to the bed to flip the quilt over so she doesn’t have to see the stains, again.

“She always wore this jumper, I put it on once and tripped over when I tried to walk” she giggles.

“Take it, what about this?” Bucky hold up a long skirt that had patterns on it.

“In the summer she would pull up over her chest so it was like a dress and look it has pockets!”

“Take?”

“Absolutely”

Over the course of twenty minutes Bucky had found a small suitcase and they filled it with all the clothes she wanted to take.

“Bun is this box your mamas?”

“Yeah it’s where her jewels lived.” Laughing when Bucky cocks his eyebrow up “I couldn’t say jewellery so mama said jewels and told me that the box was their home”

“Fair enough, would you like to take it?”

“Okay”

By the time they had finished it was close to being pitch black in the cabin. “Come on Duck its getting too dark to see anything now”

“Okay” as they moved their way through the cabin laughing at each other when the other had bumped into something, getting to the door Bucky stopped “wait a second Bun”

“Duck-“

“Gimme a second Bun”

He goes back inside and she giggles when she hears him say “ow” a few minutes he comes back out smiling whilst holding up the metal tin that housed her toy animals.

“Couldn’t forget this now could we?”

“Y/n? Where the hell have you been?”

“My old house…”

“Oh.”

“Yeah Ducky helped me get things that was my mamas”

“Ducky?” Both sets of parents say in unison.

“Yeah, we’re friends again”

Their dads, Bucky and Y/n all flinch when Maria and Winnie start screaming in joy, hugging each other whilst they jump around in a circle.

“Don’t even think about it George” Howard warns his longest friend as George slinks over to him.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about Howie”

“Don’t call me that!”

Bucky takes Y/n’s hand in his and slowly backs up whilst their dads argue.

“That was embarrassing” he laughs.

“It’s cute. Maybe we’ll be like that with our kids one day”

“W-what?” Bucky splutters, cheeks going bright red.

“N-no I mean me and my husband and you with your wife…you know?”

Before Bucky could reply they heard Sam’s voice from the doorway.

“Y/n…”

“Hi Sammy, hi Stevie”

Bucky watches as his three best friends reunite with each other, he has to admit that her comment about kids made his stomach flutter then drop when she mentions about her imaginary husband and his imaginary wife.

For the first time in three years Bucky felt whole once again.

Tags: @cjand10 @unaxv @mcira @bisexualnikkisixx @kneelforloki @kandis-mom @sagebarness @sandyruston @scott-loki-barnes @nikkivillar @saltedcoffeescotch @scentedharmonymiracle @examinarei @sarcastickiddo @sadboiabby @unholyhuntress @8crazy-freak8 @ijustneedpopcorn @moonbeampillgoth @imcinnamoons @elmo-1066 @violetwinterwidow01 @suz7days @adoredire @ozwriterchick @randomrosie01 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @emerald-writes @justafangir1 @sibsteria @spencerreidisagorgman @sapphirebarnes @bruher @hawkinsavclub1983 @onlyonetifosi @parisadams @unabashedstarlightcrown @nash-dara @allofffmypeaches @loki-laufeyson68 @behindmygreyeyes @missvelvetsstuff @pigeonmama @lizslibrary @gloriouspurpose01

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barns x y/n #Through The Years #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #marvel fic #Bucky Barnes series #Bucky Barnes angst #bucky barnes x y/n #Bucky Barnes fluff #James Barnes #james barnes x you #Bucky series #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes friends to lovers

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abibliophobiaa · 9 months

Text

Summary: You’ve never been one for love. Especially after your last round with it. Halloween rolls around and in comes Eddie Munson. He’s only in town for a couple days, you’re looking for no strings, and chances are you’ll never see him again anyway.

Easy, right?

That is, until you end up with an unexpected party favor.

mini series masterlist

next chapter

——

warnings: alcohol; smut; unprotected p in v; unplanned pregnancy and associated symptoms; major miscommunication. eddie munson x afab!reader(7k words)

——

“You’ve been staring around for hours. No one is catching your eye? Not even slightly? You’re not doing brain surgery, you’re just trying to get your toes wet.”

You knew this. But the music had been too loud, the room too heated, your body tucked away against the bar as you sat beside your best friend, sipping on a watery margarita that the ice had long since dissolved into.

All around you people bobbed and swayed to ‘Monster Mash.’ Cliche by all means, and yet it felt fitting when you appraised the crowd once more and noted the mummy dancing with his zombified partner. Further out you caught a werewolf in a particularly compromising position with a vampire, and a group of clowns crowded together hosting what looked to be a meeting.

“What about that Westley guy?”

Right — the one everyone had been talking about all night. The man who had the nerve to dress up as the direct counterpart to your own costume. With a huff, you hiked your leg up, crossing one over the other against the stool. The red dress around you shifted and moved, fingers reaching to adjust the belt around your waist.

“I haven’t seen him.” You shrugged, taking another sip of your drink. “For all I know, he doesn’t exist.”

Micah glanced about the room once again, her makeshift halo wobbling on her head. Somewhere in the distance her boyfriend, Jeremiah, was invested in a deeply riveting conversation about football with some of his friends from college. All of which had dressed in their old football jerseys, dark lines drawn haphazardly under eyes, helmets covering heads. She lingered on him for a moment, and then glanced further over your shoulder, lips tugging upward into a devilish grin. Oddly fitting for the girl dressed as an angel.

“Actually, he’s right there.”

Gravity sent your heart tumbling into your gut. Silly, when you’d thought about it. Just because he’d worn a costume from one of your comfort movies didn’t mean he’d be anything special. Multiple pirates, doctors, and the occasional Michael Myers and Freddy Krueger had already attempted to rouse a conversation, only for it to fall flat. This could very well end up the same, and this night was lost to the turmoil of the inner workings of your mind, still reeling from the sting rumbling in your chest over the past few months.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

But it wasn't a joke when you swiveled around on your stool and faced him. Not at all. In a dimly lit bar, packed too tight with too many bodies bumping you to and fro even as you presently sat, you spotted him. Found the guy people had been mentioning all night as the other half of your ‘couple’s costume,’ saying you both looked amazing together, despite the fact none of them knew he was quite literally a stranger to you.

He sat at a lonesome table. Leaned on an elbow with a cheshire grin spread across the prettiest set of pink lips. His dark curly hair was tied behind his head, tucked into the mask that covered the upper half of his face. Even partially obscured like that, he was handsome, freezing you in place with those piercing brown eyes that were locked unwaveringly on your silhouette.

So he’d noticed you too. Inwardly, you were beaming. After two months of couch surfing and feeling sorry for yourself after a failed relationship wherein you’d walked on your partner of two years with someone who most definitely wasn’t you, you’d decided tonight was the night you’d get back out there. A night of fun, a night to meet someone new, to let loose a bit.

“What are you waiting for,” your friend Micah asked, shoving you forward with a hasty push. “He’s your Westley. If this isn’t some weird ass fate, I don’t know what is.”

Your Westley’s smile grew wider as you approached. Corners dragged upward to form that broad grin, bracketed by the sweetest set of dimples you’d ever seen on a man. Heart pounding a bit, you leaned up against the table, letting out a noncommittal huff. Puffed out a deep breath that caught his attention and had those chocolate brown eyes solely on you.

“Is this space taken?” you asked, and he dipped his head in greeting. “So you’re the guy everyone has been talking about all night.”

“Ah, yes,” he laughed, and you couldn’t help but to smile at the very sound. It’s a lovely, hearty sound. The kind of laugh that seemed dangerous, because you might like it too much. “And you’re the girlfriend I didn’t know I had.”

“You too, huh?”

“Yeah,” he echoed, taking a step closer. “Though it’s all very flattering. Prettiest Princess Buttercup here.” He dropped the lowest part into a whisper, “Definitely a compliment because, if I’m being honest, you’re way out of my league.”

Your cheeks burned with the compliment, feet fidgeting beneath you where you stood. He reached over and slid a chair beside his hip, patting the surface so you could hop on up and join him, a hand of his reaching out to steady you when you wobbled a bit. Another round of drinks were ordered and you learned quickly his name was Eddie and he’d been in town only for a couple weeks now. Had a few gigs in the city for the band he played in and would be off in another two days. Blew in and out like the storm that presently raged outside, wind howling, rain splashing against sidewalks, lightning painting the night sky in a shock of white before leaving it dark once more. He’d grown up in a small town, but realized he’d only ever had dreams that were too small for the walls he’d been raised in.

So he’d ended up on a short tour and would head off to California to start laying down tracks for the band’s first ever album. He sounded so hopeful and eager, so rejuvenated and excited about life, and it had you endeared to him. Drifting closer as the night went on and he asked you about your own life. Learned you grew up here in the city but craved something quieter, very much unlike him. You’d studied creative writing and English in college and wanted to write the stories people would one day know and love and shelve in their homes, but in the meantime you worked at a library. It wasn’t the most thrilling job, but it kept you abreast, and he regaled you with the endless fantasy titles he’d known and loved through the years.

It wasn’t long before the hours trickled on by and Micah approached the two of you with a sulking Jeremiah in tow. The latter of the two a little too inebriated based on the slight sway in his form and the hand Micah kept firmly planted around his forearm.

Her blue eyes flickered up at Eddie’s face, then drifted back to yours. “I’m taking this idiot home. He’s in time out —”

“Noooo,” he moaned, forehead pressing into the crook of his girlfriend’s neck.

“Are you coming back with me or…?” Micah’s eyes trailed back upward to Eddie once more, brows arched curiously.

Eddie looked at you and shrugged. “Up to you, Buttercup.”

“I’m gonna stay…actually.”

Micah nodded, giving you both one last glance over before tugging her boyfriend along behind her in the direction of the door. As she passed, she leaned up against the hollow of your ear and said loud enough over the music, “Be careful. Have fun. You’re beautiful and I love you and you deserve to enjoy yourself tonight, okay?”

Once they were gone your attention returned to the man swathed in black standing before you, shoulder bumping his. “It's too loud in here,” you shouted for emphasis, insides nearly rattling from the music booming from the speakers positioned about the room. “Is there somewhere we can go that’s a little more…”

“Private?” he asked, leaning down toward your ear. Chills skittered along your arms as his lips nearly brushed your skin there, gooseflesh pimpling in its wake. “I have a hotel room two blocks over. How do you feel about running?”

“Let’s go.” You grinned.

“As you wish.” He beamed, holding out a gloved hand for you to take.

Outside, the two of you huddled up beneath the small awning growing smaller by the second with the other patrons who had similar ideas of waiting for their rides and cabs or braving the fall storm head on and taking off into the soaked streets in their full Halloween costumes.

Laughter bubbled up from your lips as a particularly hard jolt against your back sent you tumbling into his form, a quick hand of his reaching out and curling low around your back. He tensed, eyes locked on yours, awaiting your response and you leaned further into him, relishing in the heat of his form.

Moments skittered by under the awning. His eyes roamed your form, dark and beautiful, ringed with those little crinkles that appeared in the corners whenever he smiled. He’d been smiling all night — at you, a thought that has little butterfly wings quivering low in your belly, and lower still at the suddenness of the desire ramping up in your bloodstream.

The glowing lights from the bar filter out onto the street. Flashed orange and red across Eddie’s features, painted him in vibrant color, highlighting the plushness of his lips, the curve of his jaw, the bump of his chin. Hesitant fingers reached up to brush at the curls tied behind his head, curled one of the ringlet strands around and around a fingertip, your forearm spreading over the space between his shoulders, around his neck until he pressed in closer to you. Those chocolate brown eyes flickered southward. Lingered on your lips briefly before traveling back up, asking that question without words. Your only answer was the upward tip of your mouth, leaning into the space, waiting to feel him warm against you.

Electricity danced in the moments shared between you. In the fingertips that pressed into his shoulder and gripped tight as his nose nudged at the space beside yours, your mouth tipping up closer to his. From here, you could smell the mint he’d tossed in his mouth on the way out, could feel the tremble of his breath against your sternum, feel the heat of it fanning over your lips.

But the kiss never came. Behind you, a group of friends pushed and shoved toward the front door, nearly sending you and Eddie into the sidewalk and out of the shelter provided by your awning. It dawned on you then, however begrudgingly, that maybe you should move, give others a space to wait for their vehicles, and start to head in the direction of his hotel room.

He seemed to agree, sliding his palm down your forearm to twine his fingers between yours. “Guess that’s our cue, huh?”

“Bet you’re glad you wore the equivalent of tights for pants today, huh?”

“Suppose it makes it easier for me to whisk you away in the night, now doesn’t it?” He barked out a laugh, and clutched your hand tighter, dragging you out onto the street and into the rain.

——

You were presently in the midst of what was officially the weirdest, most endearing hook up you’d ever had. Moments after rushing out into the busy city streets and getting absolutely drenched from head to toe, Eddie tugged you toward a grocery store, suggesting he had nothing back at the hotel. Had looked a little bashful about it, even when you reassured him it was fine and you’d manage without, though he wouldn’t hear any of it.

As a result, you trailed behind him, dress sopping wet and clinging to every inch of your body, helping gather some things you might need in between what you hoped would be an eventful afternoon. Water, snacks, and the like. He seemed so giddy with it, and you hated the way his dimple in his cheek had your heart and thighs clenching. You preferred only the latter of the two, and couldn’t afford yourself the emotional aspect that came along with the former.

Eventually you had both found yourselves in the frozen food aisle, his shoulder bumping yours, your fingers dancing in the spaces between the two of you, the anticipation of after burning brighter with every minute that passed.

“How do you think they know what…oh, I don’t know…Moose Tracks taste like?” Eddie asked, turning his head over his shoulder.

Fortunately for you, he’d removed his mask, revealing more of his features. Those curls that dangled along his brow line, the smattering of freckles along high cheekbones, the crinkled corners of his eyes whenever he smiled at you.

“What?” you asked, once more reminding yourself of just how differently this night was going than you’d originally anticipated.

“Like what makes a Moose Track a Moose Track?”

“I think it’s just a…mix of things that remind them of…you know what?” His eyes twinkled, and you shifted a little closer. It really sucked that he was cute — obnoxiously so. “I actually don’t know. But, I do think we have more than enough stuff here to feed an army. And I think the rain finally let up.”

“You want to head out?”

“I think we should,” you agreed, tugging him along behind you down the aisle, in search of the nearest check out line.

The walk to the hotel room reminded you both of what you’d intended for that evening. The curious glances you would catch him shooting your way, the way you’d do the same when he focused his attention ahead. It increased with every step closer to the looming building, the desire for closeness, to feel, to touch, to taste.

Burned brighter when he swiped his key card and you started shoving the things he’d brought inside of the mini fridge, before snatching two water bottles and placing them down on the bedside table. He whistled as you walked around the room, fingers snapping, one of his curls tucked against the fullness of his mouth.

“You know, we don’t have to do anything,” you reassured him, sensing the nervousness radiating from his form.

Those dark eyes settled on yours as you approached, palm coming up slowly to rest against his sternum, right where you could feel his heartbeat clanging against his ribs.

“It’s been a while,” he settled on, voice softer than it had been all evening, a tremorous quality catching your attention.

“We’ll go slow,” you promised, leaning up to finally, and happily, close the space between the two of you.

It felt like a long, shared exhale. The way he immediately knew which way to turn his head, how you liked for his calloused fingers to rest against your cheekbone, that you wanted to be as close as possible, pressed flush against his form. Your head swam as he turned you around and walked you backward until your backside thumped against the edge of the dresser positioned against the wall opposite the bed. Grunted as he reached a hand up the back of your neck and sought out that pesky zipper you wanted so badly pulled down.

As if he’d read your mind, the man in question gave the zipper a nice, hard tug and the fabric shifted and dropped around your shoulders, baring the similarly colored bra beneath. So maybe you’d gone shopping for your first foray back after your break up? Based on the darkened eyes honing in on the lacy fabric, you’d picked correctly.

“Such a shame,” he groaned against the curve of your collar bone, fingers pushing the dress down and onto the floor, “really liked that dress.”

“My turn,” you mused, fingers reaching forward to tug the tunic free from his obscenely tight pants.

He helped you with ease, arms lifting just enough to help pull it over his head, giggling as his endless mane of curls sprang free. Tattoos jumped to life before your eyes. The multiple on his arms and torso, some looking faded and older, likely done in someone’s house, and others freshly inked, leaving a tapestry of stories he’d likely tell you if you’d only had the time.

“Fuck it.” He reached down and cupped your jaw, bruising kiss after bruising kiss laid upon your mouth, your toes digging into the carpet below as pale fingers trailed down the center of your chest, and then lower still, pausing at the hem of your panties. “Can I touch you?”

You might burst into flames if he didn’t. “Please.”

“Never have to say please with me, Buttercup,” he said, fingers pushing past that lacy barrier until they met your flesh, knowing exactly what he’d find there. “Sweetheart…this all for me?”

“Don’t tease.”

A broken sigh spilled from your lips, fingers clutched tight around his forearm as those expert fingers dragged a slow circle around your clit before sliding back to your center, pushing in. Your head rolled back against the wall, heat blooming anew as he stepped closer into the circle of your thighs, watching the rapid rise and fall of your chest, enjoying the sounds made only for him, the slickness of your center practically pulling his fingers back in with every perfect thrust curled in that spot right where you needed him the most.

“Fuck, just like that, sweetheart,” he panted, mouth pressed tight to yours, grinning against your skin as you keened high and tight, creeping closer and closer to your edge.

And just when you’d thought you were about to explode into dozens of tiny stars like in the night sky above, Eddie stopped. You nearly cried out his name in your frustration, only to find him dropping down onto his knees in front of the dresser, capable hands tugging you closer to the edge, before he pushed the dainty fabric back to the side and swapped his fingers for his tongue.

One long stripe from center to clit was all you'd needed for the rubber band to snap. For the shaking to start, the chanting of his name like a mantra or a prayer to rouse the neighbors likely next door and alert everyone in the building to what magic Eddie had worked between your thighs.

“Not,” you gasped, leaning your head forward to rest against his heaving chest, “fair.”

“What’s not fair, sweetheart?”

“Too good at that.” Another rasped breath pooled from your lips, quieted by the sound of your lips pressing to his chest. Hazy eyes lifted to his face, a satisfied exhale slowing the rise and fall of your chest. “Get on the bed.”

“What do you —”

“On the bed,” you repeated, grinning wickedly as he backed up just enough so his kneecaps hit the mattress. “I want to look at you.”

And god, what a sight he was. Once you’d finally managed to tug his pants down, revealing the boxers beneath, you were rewarded with the fullness of Eddie Munson in the flesh. The narrow waist, the smattering of hair you kissed along his abdomen, the curve of his chest, the freckles along his chest and shoulders. Traced along the tattoos on his chest, the sides of his ribs, the one on his upper thigh, before dragging upward to slide over the increasingly — and massively impressive — hardened cock peeking out from the waistband of his boxers.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he blew the words out on a shaky exhale as you squeezed a little tighter, gauging what he liked.

Your grin grew as you wiggled the remnants of his clothing off his hip and cupped the weight of him in your palm. Perfect. He was absolutely perfect, and you wanted so badly to show him just how much you thought so, sliding down further onto the edge of the bed, tongue dragging a long line up the underside, along that prominent vein that had him bucking upward off the bed.

“Can I, Eddie?”

He watched through hooded lashes as your eyes zeroed in on his leaking tip, thumb sliding over the pre-cum there, before gliding your palm in a slow downward motion around him. He nodded, breath nearly cutting off completely as you finally, and blessedly, welcomed him into your mouth, immediately knowing nothing would compare to this moment and this girl.

Ruined. You’d ruined him for others, your pretty smile around his cock driving him too swiftly to a precipice he didn’t want to see the end of. Not yet. “Wait, wait, wait. Fuck. Your mouth is perfect, sweetheart. But — mmm — I need you.”

He pulled you upward with a gentle hand on the back of your neck, rolling you over beneath him, tongue marking a path along your chest, the peaks of your nipples, the delicate skin of your abdomen. With each pass of his lips over your flesh, you sank deeper into the mattress, knee bent, foot digging into the space above his hip, drawing him close enough that you could feel his glistening, wet hardness brushing your abdomen.

“Someone’s impatient,” you teased, moaning as his finger circled your wet entrance. “Want you inside me.”

“Patience, Buttercup,” he practically purred, reaching over into the bedside table to find…nothing. “No. Oh shit. We didn’t get condoms. I’m such an idiot, I —”

“Shit,” you whimpered, jolting upright and nearly smashing your skull into his as he double checked the inside of the drawer. “What about your suitcase? Wallet?”

“I told you I don’t exactly do this often.”

Those dark brows knitted together on his forehead, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose. You remembered then the fortunate and recent development of starting birth control after Micah suggested she could never live without it, and suddenly you wanted nothing more than to clasp your hands together and thank the heavens for the little pills you had back home in your friend’s bathroom.

“I’m on the pill,” you told him, swallowing the nervousness that grew with every beat of your heart. “And I’ve been tested recently. I’m clean.”

Maybe it was stupid. Maybe you should have known better.

“I’ve been tested since my last time too. I’m good,” he said, unmistakable desperation filling his voice.

“I don’t want to stop,” you whispered as he rolled onto his back.

“Me neither,” he agreed as you clambered over his lap and bracketed his hips with a thigh on either side.

Lured with the wonderful bliss that was Eddie Munson’s lips warm and plus against yours, you gripped him in hand and slowly lowered yourself down onto him, completely bare. There was something so raw about the moment. About the shuddered breath you both released, the way his hands cupped your hips as he pushed in deeper than you ever thought possible, his voice a broken mix of ‘that’s a good girl,’ ‘taking me so well,’ ‘look so good full of my cock,’ as you move over him.

You wanted to hate that you end up doing something between fucking and making love. For something so casual, it feels almost too intimate, the way you collided together like two pieces fitted together of a puzzle that had only been missing those parts.

And it wasn’t gentle, his fingers clutched in your flesh, feet planted on the bed as he eventually pounded up into you — but it was also somehow tender. A complicated mess, just like the shattered pieces of your heart as he groaned one last time and urged you to come with him, pulling you closer in his arms. His fingers circled your clit until you cried his name and clenched down around him, whimpering at the warmth of him spilling inside.

As you both drifted back to reality, he maneuvered around the bed and washed himself from between your thighs. Cooed when you winced at the cold contact, dropping a kiss against your forehead and telling you that it had started storming again. He could either call you a cab or you could stay the night, he’d suggested. You hadn’t anticipated spending the night with him, but after he dug around for the ice cream and M&Ms you got from the supermarket, you found you couldn’t say no to him.

Especially when he turned on the television and, funnily enough, The Princess Bride was on. Fate, or something more, seemed to laugh in your face. Gleeful as you sprawled out beneath the covers naked as the day you were born beside the man who you quickly learned enjoyed handfuls of popcorn mixed with his sweet chocolate treats.

It didn’t take long before he’d grown hard again, the lights dimmed and the food forgotten, your soft sighs and pleasured peals filling the room as he pushed in and watched as your eyes rolled back and back arched prettily for him.

And later, after you were both satiated and satisfied, you fell asleep to the sounds of Inigo Montoya’s famous speech, and the gentle inhales and exhales of the man sprawled out beneath you.

——

Daylight streamed in through the olive curtains positioned against the wall across from you. You hadn’t noticed them last night. Hadn’t noted the wooden walls, the pale ceiling above, nor the cream bedspread across your hips. Hadn’t noticed a lot of things, it seemed, other than the man who dozed behind you, tattooed arm slung low around your waist, keeping you in close.

Fallen asleep — you’d both fallen asleep watching The Princess Bride, much to your grunted amusement as you shifted up and into a sitting position. Eddie’s arm thumped onto the bed, leaving a wrinkled mess around his sinewy forearm. Sparing a glance over your shoulder, you took in the curve of his jaw. The way he looked more boyish than his nearly thirty years, lips parted in a sleepy breathing pattern, curls strewn all about his face. A smile graced your lips, fingers of yours rolling over the curve of his back, the heft of his shoulder, the breadth of his bicep.

Part of you craved curling back up beside him. Wanted to feel his mouth roving over yours, across your skin, between your thighs once more. Would probably dream about the way his face had scrunched up in pleasure before he came apart beneath you last night for weeks to come. But your eyes noticed the time ticking on the far wall, alerting you that work started in two hours. Some weekend reading activity for the children in your town you’d volunteered to work weekend hours for; hindsight, as they say, was twenty-twenty.

“She’s running away in the night,” he grumbled beside you, mouth rolling over to press into the pillow you had slept soundly on for a shocking eight hours, letting out a loud yawn. You couldn’t recall the last time you’d done so. That curly head of hair lifted, too-long strands falling into his gaze as he pinched one eye shut and glanced toward the giant bedroom window. “Or…morning, I guess?”

“I have work,” you said, reaching over to snatch your underwear from off the floor.

He watched with rapt attention as you whirled around and clasped your bra into place, cheeks burning despite the fact he’d seen every inch of you merely hours ago. The man propped himself up onto one elbow, your eyes catching the bat tattoos on his arm as his fingers reached over to curl around your hip, dragging you back down into bed.

Soon enough it was loud giggles, his fingers dancing along your sides, noisy kisses against your own. But it didn’t take long before you were reduced to breathy sighs. His fingers against the span of your hips, his chest pressing yours into the mattress. Lips over yours, against your cheek, the curve of your throat, the hollow between your breasts, the valley of your abdomen. He stopped with a nip along your hip bone, tongue laving over the sensitive skin there.

“Do you have to go?” he groaned against your stomach, placing a final kiss there before crawling back up your body and cradling the back of your head with one hand, his body weight perched on the other elbow, face hovering over your own. Pretty, he was so damn pretty and you wished you could hate him for it.

“I guess I have a few minutes,” you suggested coyly.

And it was all Eddie needed before he had you beneath him once more singing a tune he knew he’d never forget.

You dressed in silence after. He pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and a thin sweater while you glanced at the wrinkled heap of your dress from the night before. It hadn’t dawned on you the complications of getting your feet wet on Halloween — at least, not until now.

“I can’t walk back to Micah’s in that,” you groaned, pointing to the messy ball of fabric on the floor.

“Wait — I have an idea!”

Eddie rummaged around a box in the far corner of the room and tossed a tee shirt your way. Across the front was ‘Corroded Coffin’ in a messy font that reminded you of how your brain often felt after one too many cups of coffee in the morning.

“Your band?” you asked, turning the shirt around to show him.

“Yeah.” He nodded, white teeth flashing with his smile. “You know, you could see us some time.”

You quickly slipped the dress over your head and let the skirt ruffle messily along the floor, then moved to roll up the billowy sleeves to your shoulders.

“I can’t say that I’ll be in California any time soon,” you told him, pulling the tee over your head next and draping it over the belt. Like this, it looked more like an oddly fitted skirt and a top. You already decided that was much better than a Halloween costume, so it would do until you got home and could change.

He nodded rapidly, like he knew that, but hadn’t realized that you’d be coasts apart in only a couple of days.

“Well…” he trailed off, searching around the bedside table for a moment.

Once he procured a pencil and a piece of paper, he scribbled down a string of numbers you immediately knew were the hope for something more from a boy with kind eyes, a beautiful smile, and a heart of gold. Your chest ached. If only you’d met him two years ago, at a better time, in a place where you were more open to whatever this could not be.

“My number — for the place I’ll be staying at for the next couple months,” he explained, tucking it into the exposed circle of your palm, closing your fist within his fingers. “Maybe, I don’t know…we can talk?”

“I can do talking,” you conceded, already hating the fact you knew you wouldn’t be utilizing the number.

It was better this way; he was better off this way.

You both parted with a kiss in the doorway. With his arms looped low around your waist in a way that felt too familiar. A way that suffocated, heart twisting at the soft smile that graced his pretty mouth when he wished you a good shift and you wished him a safe flight.

The walk home was all inward grins that flowed on your face until it hurt. Waves to random strangers passing on the street, curious gazes from onlookers at the billowing sleeves you kept shoving up into your tee shirt as you passed. Memories of the night before flashed in your mind. Of his fingers tugging the zipper on the dress, tossing your underwear alongside his on the floor, mouth on yours, hands learning the contours of your body, the way he fitted perfectly inside you.

Another time, another place, another day maybe.

And that day was not today.

Micah was sprawled across the kitchen island when you entered. You shut the door as quietly as possible behind you, only to find she’d already been awake anyway. A cup of likely long gone cold coffee rested beside her along with a bottle of painkillers, her forehead pressed against the cool tile, nursing what you imagined had to be the headache from hell.

“You’re home late,” she grumbled, pushing her head up into her hands. Blonde hair spilled around her forearms, face covered behind her palms. “I’m assuming you had a good time. Which will at least make one of us. Jere passed out as soon as we got home and snored all night.”

“Sorry, sweetie,” you apologized, stepping further into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator immediately for some water. “I…we had fun.”

“I’m going to need you to spill, because he was cute even with the mask. Don’t think I didn’t notice,” she mused, suddenly healed of her headache, what with the way she looked at you like she’d received the best news of her life.

“I accomplished exactly what I wanted to. I got my toes wet.” You shrugged, lathering some butter onto a freshly toasted bagel.

“You like him,” she screeched, making her own self wince at the sheer volume of it.

You did. You do. But those feelings would fade. Your resolve had already hardened because he wanted romance and flowers and you needed no strings. He deserved that much — he deserved so much.

“We had sex, that’s all. And he’s leaving for California in a few days. I’m never going to see him again. So it doesn’t really matter, now does it?”

——

It hadn’t felt real. For days, you’d doubted every symptom. Every inkling that might have alluded to your present condition.

First, it had been the realization that your period was late. Not even the one or two days you would have pushed aside as a result of stress, the extra hours you’d taken up at work to try and save a little money here and there for a new apartment, or your severe lack of sleep. Then, the nauseousness started. In waves, most days, and definitely not only in the mornings like you’d been led to believe your whole life. Your chest ached next; a fullness that felt unlike your normal, monthly symptoms. Chalked it up to your oncoming period. The same period by that point was nearly two weeks delayed. There was also the fact that no matter how much you slept, you’d still felt like it wasn’t enough. Found yourself dozing off at work, yawning standing in the line for groceries, losing focus while out with friends.

There was also the fact statistics were on your side. You’d done all the right things and were on birth control at the time. So it couldn’t be…that, right? Statistically improbable, unlikely, unwarranted. At least, that was what you had chosen to reassure yourself with, quieting the shouting in your skull that suggested otherwise.

It wasn’t until you were sprawled out against that obnoxiously crinkly white paper in the doctor’s office a little over a month after Halloween that you’d even allowed the thought to enter your mind. It also happened to be the first moment you wondered if you were about to have the entirety of your life changed by a night with a boy in too tight pants you’d definitely not thought about even once since you’d spent the night with him. And you most definitely didn’t picture his dark pupils expanding in the night as you rolled over him, his palms gripping your hips, your hands on his chest, heads thrown back in shared ecstasy.

No.

Not at all.

Six weeks, they told you, with sympathetic looks and uncertain smiles as you exhaled shakily and stared up at the ceiling to stop the room from spinning out of control around you. Six weeks pregnant and undoubtedly so, based on the rapid thrum of the baby’s heartbeat on the screen before you. Strong, they’d said. Perfectly healthy for someone at this point in your pregnancy. They printed pictures up for you of the tiny gummy bear with arms and you held it in trembling hands as they began to speak. Words strung together to form sentences you’d barely understood. Options for next steps, vitamins to take, habits to stop, foods to eat and foods to avoid, how much caffeine to drink, how much weight you could lift and what activities you should start to limit—your head spun with it and continued the whole quiet walk home back to Micah’s place she shared with her boyfriend, Jeremiah.

She welcomed you with open arms as you entered their apartment with a pamphlet on pregnancy in one hand and your pocketbook in the other, whimpered cries of not knowing what to do soaking through her knitted sweater. She’d accepted it without hesitation, just as she always did and would. Held you close to her chest — and hissed at Jeremiah to leave when he’d eventually poked his head in — as you processed the emotions swirling like an endless kaleidoscope in your mind.

And later, when your tears had dried and she’d plopped a freshly opened box of ice cream in your lap and demanded you eat, she asked, “Please just…tell me it’s absolutely Westley’s and not Paul’s.”

“Six weeks,” you sighed, watching her shoulders relax. There was no mistaking who the baby’s father was, and at least that brought you some comfort, “Definitely Westley’s.”

Though you weren’t sure if that made it any better.

“I just want you to know it’s going to be okay,” Micah reassured you, reaching over to rub at your forearm. But did she really know that? How could she? Because to you, it felt like the earth had fallen out of orbit, spinning dizzily now with no signs of stopping any time soon. “I know we don’t have the most space right now, but the couch turns into a futon. It’s yours until you find something otherwise, you know that.”

Telling Eddie his world was (potentially) about to change happened two weeks later. You needed some time to process, is what you’d told yourself was the reason why you’d delayed. After hours of debating, you decided to keep it, and knew that there was always the chance Eddie didn’t want kids — always the chance he’d want to pretend it never happened and that he didn’t want to be a part of its life. Regardless of what he chose, you’d set your mind on being a mother, and you’d do it alone if you had to. But he at least deserved to know; deserved the option of choosing them, even if all you’d had was a night fueled by lust, because you weren’t interested in anything more than that.

Fear had clamped your mouth shut, preventing you from forming those two words for fourteen days. Just two simple words that would have opened the dam to let in the floodgates for the conversation that needed to happen.

Eddie, I’m pregnant.

I’m pregnant.

You’d rehearsed it all afternoon, pacing a certifiable hole in the ground from how rapidly you’d moved. Had even stood in front of your friends and had them listen to it until you felt confident enough to do it for real. Gripped Micah’s hand tight as you swiped the man’s number from your pocketbook and dialed. It rang once, then twice, and you worried he wouldn’t answer or you’d caught him at a bad time when the line exploded with sound. Voices. Dozens of voices spilled through the other line, and music along with it.

You winced. “Uhm, Eddie? Is this the right number?”

A long pause extended, drowned out by guitar strings and drum beats. “Uh — uh, yeah. This is him.”

He sounded gruffer than you remembered — voice tinged with a smokier quality that seemed almost unfamiliar to you now. Not that you’d spoken much that night. Maybe he’d caught something, maybe he was sick. Maybe it was merely the weeks that had grown on since you’d seen him, and he'd become another person in the crowd already — someone you knew if only for a night. Heart pounding, you gripped Micah’s hand tighter and wound the phone wire around a pointed fingertip.

“Hi…I’m sorry I’m only calling now. Busy, you know?” A lie, because you’d never intended to call. It had been one night; that was all it was ever meant to be. “It’s the…girl from the party. The Buttercup to your Westley costume on Halloween.”

He chuckled in reply, and you wondered if maybe he was shy. He’d been looser the night you met — louder. Boisterous and passionate. Carefree and fun. But you wondered briefly if that was the glass of whiskey he’d drunk before you slipped away to his hotel room hearing him now. But you remembered that next morning, too; his splendid affection, the kissing, the exuberance of his persona, the way he’d made you fall apart around him again.

It seemed…strange now. Cut off, cold even.

“I’m…pregnant. I just —” You swallowed the knot of fear forming in the back of your throat and continued, “I just thought you should know…because it’s yours.”

There was another prolonged pause.

Nervousness welled up in your throat the longer it continued. Joined that roiling nausea that had become your friend and foe these weeks. Swallowing thickly, your fingers pressed over the span of your abdomen, over the knitted sweater and skin protecting your tiny secret — still not visible to others yet, but wholly your own all the same. You’d already decided you would love them fiercely enough for the both of you if he didn’t want anything to do with it, just so they’d never feel like they were missing out.

Then, after what felt like decades, he asked, “Who is this again?”

You repeated your name, nervousness rattling your bones, fingers trembling in Micah’s. Micah mouthed out ‘Breathe,’ even though you were doing anything but.

The line went dead, and your heart along with it.

——

let me know what you think! 🩷

#lunaloveseddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfiction

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theemporium · 2 months

Note

since its winter season lets say bsf!reader gets sick how is quinn reacting?

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

series masterlist

“Quinn—”

“No.”

“I feel fine—”

“No.”

“I can just—”

“You’re not going and that is final,” Quinn stated bluntly, shooting you a look from across the kitchen. You had spent the last fifteen minutes arguing with the boy and it just felt like you were going around in circles.

After the last of your winter semester assignments had been handed in, you had booked a flight out to Vancouver to spend the few weeks you had off with Quinn before you headed home for the holidays. What you failed to take into consideration was that the cold weather and stress of college would wear you down so much.

Now, you were finally in Vancouver, feeling congested and feverish and, overall, just like utter shit.

And the last place Quinn wanted you was in the arena to watch his game.

“I hardly get to watch you,” you argued as you leaned against the counter, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’ll be in the suite with the others, as well. I’ll be fine, Quinn. I can just—”

“You should be resting.” Quinn retorted, his brows furrowed together in concern. You knew he was worried but god, it just reminded you of when he was overbearingly protective of Jack and Luke growing up. “The arena will be loud and cold and—”

You shot him a look. “I’ve been to a hockey game, Quinn.”

The boy let out a sigh, staring right back at you. Neither one of you said anything for a few moments before Quinn broke, making his way towards you and hesitantly opening his arms to you. You didn’t waste much time in wrapping your arms around his waist, settling your head against his chest as he hugged you close.

“I know you wanna be there to support me but I want you to take care of yourself first,” Quinn murmured, his lips brushing against the crown of your head before he placed a kiss there. “The last thing I want is you pushing yourself too hard and you get worse.”

“You’re such a captain,” you mumbled into his chest but he could hear the smile in your voice. “I just feel bad for missing the game when I’m literally here.”

“I know,” he muttered before he pulled back enough to look down at you. “But there will be plenty of games while you’re here than you can come to, when you’re better.”

“I hate when you’re right,” you grumbled with a pout.

His lips twitched upwards. “C’mon, you can watch the game on the couch. I’ll even order your favourite soup from the deli down the road.”

Your face softened. “I know you’re just softening me up so I agree but you’re a real softie when you want to be.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, get that pretty ass moving now.”

And he did as he said. He got you settled on the couch with an array of pillows and blankets and one of his spare jerseys so you could support him fully. He waited until the food arrived and plated it up, before pressing a kiss to the top of your head before he left.

Despite your best efforts, you did fall asleep during the game. That was how Quinn found you, fast asleep on the couch with the game highlights playing in the background. And something in his chest tightened at the sight, at the hope that maybe one day this would be a sight he could come home to every day rather than the few weeks you were visiting him for.

#quinn hughes #nhl #vancouver canucks #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes one shot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot

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spoopdeedoop · 2 months

Text

hi i have some disorganized thoughts/hcs abt the found family human doctor au

(one of the thoughts being i should really give it a better name. another being YES this is only the nuwho doctors atm bc that's the only series i've watched so far apologies. if i ever get around to watching classic who i will add them trust)

BEHOLD my random, not at all in-depth headcanons

nine is the only one with a car out of all of them. they all keep bugging him to drive/pick them up from places -- he has mixed feelings about being the assigned taxi driver

both twelve and eleven are teachers -- college professor and preschool teacher respectively. twelve's students love them because he will say the most stupid, hilarious shit with a straight face without even knowing and eleven's students love him because he is the only teacher at the school that will dance with them during musical chairs (he doesn't even play the game. he just dances)

i want to make one of them an actual doctor but i don't think any of them could handle it unfortunately

they all share an an apartment flat on the same level -- nine, twelve and fifteen live in one room, ten, eleven and thirteen live in the one across from them. of course there are other people in the building too but they're all used to the strange loud hyperactivity of that particular flat. i think i'm using the right terminology here. yall know what im talking about

(i'm so tempted to make some companions be their neighbors)

nine and ten are the most insomniac of all of them, so they're used to bumping each other in the dead of night on their way to raid each other's respective fridges or something. very rarely thirteen will join them and they're like "WELL FANCY SEEING YOU HERE"

twelve does sleep, but like. he's nocturnal

eleven and ten hate each other in a sibling kind of way (see: day of the doctor). they are constantly sending each other death threats or tripping each other over. everyone is sick of it

sometimes when they're out shopping you'll hear ten yell "GET OUT OF THE FROZEN FOOD YOU NUMPTY WE ARE NOT BUYING FISH FINGERS" over the aisles and you'll hear eleven whine "WHY DO YOU HATE ME SO MUCH" back

(if you're lucky you'll be able to catch fifteen mumble "why did we put them in the same apartment. are we asking for an eviction notice")

eventually eleven will pick a random stray cat off the side of the road, take her home, and name her bowtie, which is a stupid name, so everyone just defaults to calling her kitty

kitty's favourite person is twelve, to eleven's absolute despair

(my original idea for this was to initially have ten hate the idea of living with a cat, since he's stated full on in the show that he doesn't like cats, but apparently there is some very obscure doctor who comic run in which he falls into a depressive spiral and adopts a cat whom he names rose-the-cat, so he might actually like cats idk?)

anyway ten hates her until he doesn't lmao. he vents to her when there's no one else home and she will Stare at him back and it is a very nice friendship

kitty and nine watch shitty romcom together

they have a joint groupchat together -- half of it is just thirteen and fifteen assigning everyone outfits they find on pinterest and the other half is eleven asking where everyone went (he keeps getting lost when they go out)

nine doesn't know how to download pictures off the internet and so resorts to manually editing memes together to send to the groupchat and everyone's like "girl that's so much more effort........."

(yes he doesn't know how to press save image to camera roll but he knows how to use a photo editor flawlessly. such is the logic of the idiocy of the doctors)

eleven and thirteen get along very well i think. they're the only two of the group to play video games and so they bond over that. they also have ridiculously similar clothing taste

sometimes they'll succeed in getting fifteen to play pokemon with them and then they'll proceed to not see him until the next day when he comes out of his room and goes "you didn't tell me plusle couldn't evolve i've been levelling it up all fucking night"

friday is assigned movie night (it's always big hero 6)

eleven is the only one to actively seek out physical affection, usually really abruptly like clinging to thirteen's back as she passes him in the hall or bapping ten with the palm of his hand until he sighs and gives him a hug. he does expect a platonic kiss on the forehead from anyone before he goes to bed and will complain if he doesn't get one

anyway thats it i'm sick in the head and really sad. if this keeps up i may be forced to actually write a fic

#doctor who #spoop speaks #if anyone has a name for this au i'm OPEN TO SUGGESTIONS #if anyone wants to write fic/draw art for this au YOU DONT EVEN HAVE TO ASK. IM ACTIVELY BEGGING. PLEASE #might delete this post if i get too self conscious it is. just. words. ew

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mi-dori · 11 days

Text

The Milf Magnet: Rich Lady CEO

Prompt of Series: You've recently finished high school and now you wanted to further your studies at a college that was a few cities away. You moved into a new neighbourhood and was met with all kinds of unexpected encounter

Prompt of Fic: Your Midterms are approaching and since you've transferred, you've made alot of friends from rich to poor. One of your friends, Stelle invited you to study at her house and there you ran into her Mom whom you've had a couple of encounters with and some how you ended up in her bed at the end of the day.

Warnings: G!P Reader, Mentions of Cunnilingus, Character taking control, uses of blindfolds, ropes, creampies, Character being obsessed with you

Featuring: Stelle, March, Blade.

KAFKA X READER

Three weeks have passed since your encounter with a redhead someone. She hasn't left your mind since and surely you wanted more but how can you face her? Was it fear? Maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was just the fact that you'd get too flustered just by seeing her face; remembering how fucked out it looked that night. You've received multiple calls and texts from her, but you couldn't bring yourself to answer them and besides, you have your midterms approaching which will work as the perfect excuse for not replying back to her.

"I really can't grasp accounts," March sighed dejectedly, her hands held tightly by Stelle. Out of all the friends you've made, March and Stelle were two of the closest ones and they've been there for you since you met them. You've had a few encounters with Stelle's mom, mostly because she had relations with the school board and because she's a CEO. The interactions with her were longer than expected because everytime she visits the school, you were assigned to her for the day, offering your assistance whenever she needed and acting as a tour guide for her. Something about her made you feel slightly flustered and small. Her intimidating gaze never failed to make you shrink and her captivating smile was one you could never deny.

"Do you wanna come over to my place? The three of us could study together." Stelle suggested. March smiled and so did you. Stelle's place was enormous and comfortable and compared to the house you're renting, it's much more convenient as well.

Stelle's driver- Blade, came to pick you up. If Blade was here, that means Stelle's mom was home. A slightly uneasy feeling started to stir up within you. "You okay there? You look a little pale," March placed her hand on your head. You shook your head no before smiling.

"I'm fine March." Stelle looked at you in a way that made you think she didn't believe you before she went to her car and soon followed you and March. The drive to Stelle's house was peaceful. Small conversations were exchanged back and forth between you three and soon after, you arrived at her large house. Blade opened the door and led you three into the house where the maids were running about doing work. He continued leading you until you stopped at a big door that was labelled "Office".

"This is your mom's office?!" March exclaimed. Stelle nodded enthusiastically, a proud smile beaming her face. With a deep breath, you walked into her office was Blade went in first and informed Kafka of your arrival.

As you entered, you started to feel uneasy and flustered. Kafka was wearing a white Button up shirt with the first three buttons undone. Her glasses was on the bridge of her nose and her hair was tied loosely in a pony tail. "Mom! I'm home. I've brought some friends to study with." Kafka took her attention off the screen and looked at her daughter with a smile. She took off her glasses and got up.

"Welcome home Stelle and her little friends. I'm a bit occupied at the moment so please make yourself comfortable." She hugged Stelle, then March and lastly you.

"My~ you've grown a bit since the last time y/n~" when she hugged you, you felt her run her hands all over your back making goose bumps raise on your skin.

"T-thank you miss K-kafka.."

"Oh dear, I told you to drop the 'ms'. You're making me feel older than I already am," she chuckled as she let you go. You took a good look around her office, admiring the art works she had mounted on her walls.

"You kids head on downstairs. I'll finish up some work and then I'll come down to help you all study okay."

With her last statement, you all made your way downstairs. The maids placed snacks and drinks in the study area and you took a seat on the comfortable couch. "Now this is the life!" March exclaimed as she relaxed in the couch. "Having maids do everything for you while you get to relax is amazing!" Stelle chuckled at her girlfriend's enthusiasm.

The three of you began studying and an hour later, Kafka came down and helped you guys. She explained all the concepts the three of you didn't understand and made sure to break in down into smaller details. All that studying made you kinda sleepy so you excused yourself and headed to the bathroom.

Splashing some cold water on your face didn't help you one bit and as you were about to exit, Kafka walked in with a loose robe. "Are you alright deary?" She asked, a bit of teasing in her voice.

"I-I'm fine m-Kafka... I'm just kinda sleepy is all."

"Sleepy eh?" She walked inside the bathroom and looked the door before corning you up against the wall.

"I got something to keep you awake for a good amount of time~"

A/n:

Hehehe cliffhanger 😈

Don't worry, there will be a part 2 with the actual smut.

#honkai star rail kafka #kafka x reader #hsr kafka #honkai star rail kafka x reader #hsr kafka x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #kafka x reader smut

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churipu · 2 months

Text

★ ─── KILLSWITCH LULLABY . . . ( 03 )

warnings. cursing, toji vs parenting, in a world where toji actually takes care of baby gumi, gumi is at least 8 months old, non! sorcerer au, infant doctor! reader, toji uses the zenin clan name, but baby gumi is a fushiguro (takes after his mother).

note. this was not proofread, and extremely rushed omg :(

-> series masterlist.

"first day of training went well, judging from how you look?" you asked, hopping on a bar stool — and toji who had his uniform disheveled, the navy colored tie was somehow loose and in an odd direction, "you look amazing."

he rolled his eyes, "shitty people everywhere, your cousin stands this kind 'f work?"

"can't speak for him, he's always been a people person, you know what i mean?" you shrug, pulling your bag strap over your head before lightly tossing the fully filled tote bag onto the counter, "where's he anyways?"

"went home, said some important shit came up and he needed to go, so he told me to lock up the place." it was relieving to say the least that megumi was fast asleep in his baby carrier, his head uncomfortably nodding off, a vague stream of liquid dragging from the corner of his lips down to his chin.

"need help?"

he was hesitant, but nodded anyways, "i have no fucking idea how to clean the espresso machine," his voice was hushed — but you could hear it loud and clear, nodding your head.

"don't worry, i'll take care of that. (cousin) taught me some stuff back when i was in college," approaching the espresso machine, your movements were swift. what toji had been trying to do for at least half an hour prior to your arrival was all done within ten minutes by you, "there. all done. anything else i can help with?"

" . . . thanks, and no, i got everything else done."

nodding, you took a good look around the dim-lit room. chairs flipped and placed neatly above the table — floors mopped clean, and here toji was, wiping the counter top with a baby latched to his chest, "you've got the handle of it, and it's surprising that it's your first day of training. great job."

the male didn't answer you, although his hand continued moving in a slow pace. slowly he walks over towards the sink, wetting the cloth he had under the running water to clean off any specks of sweets, spice, and everything nice. he uses his hands to rub the wet cloth against each other before tapping the water off, stretching excess water off the cloth; folding it neatly before placing it right by the sink.

"there any reason to why you're not leaving?" toji questions. asking himself if the question he had just asked came out too harsh or inappropriate for you.

tittering out at his question, you shook your head, "i usually come here, but (cousin) never said anything about him clocking out early today. so, 'm just keeping you company, y'know?" you walked around the bar and hopped back on top of the stool, leaning your chin onto the palm of your hand.

if toji hadn't know the basics of you — he'd think you were making fun of him, "right, you don't have to do that."

all his life, toji's been majorly alone. at least until megumi was born, loneliness isn't a stranger to him. he's been so used to receiving that treatment, to the point where a person's company . . . made him feel surreal. in the past, the constant feeling of loneliness gnawed inside him persistently, always leaving him hollow and yearning.

but today? today was different. toji had gotten so used to that feeling that he's practically one with it now.

"do you want me to leave?" you asked.

he raises his head up slightly, shooting you a look that screams out, "do whatever you want."

"would you mind if i stay, though?" he shook his head slowly, not a single word or sound escaped his throat, "then i'm staying."

"do whatever you want . . . 'm just saying you didn't have to keep me company, i'm fine being on my own." he mutters out, letting out a light grunt at the end of his statement.

eyeing him, you chuckled, "do you live around here?"

toji nods, swinging his bag over his shoulder carefully not to wake megumi up from his deep slumber, "why'd you ask?" he narrowed his eyes slightly in suspicion.

"good, i'm driving you home," jutting your chin out towards the doors where a pristine white colored old sedan was parked expectantly by the sidewalk in front of the closed cafe, then you look at him with high hopes.

the male sighs, "it's fine, i can take the bus."

you immediately shook your head no at his revelation, "the bus is pretty scary at night — you have baby gumi with you too, 'ts pretty dangerous at this hour, you know?" you were right. but toji hated the fact that if he was to accept your offer, he'd triple the debt he had with you.

" . . . i can fight."

"not with baby gumi, you're not." you shut him down, grabbing your car keys, "just hop on, you said it was nearby, right? i really won't mind at all."

toji exhaled loudly, "how should i repay you for a ride?"

you grimaced out in disbelief, head shaking out in denial, "'m not asking you for anything — just let me drive you home, toji." the male shifted a bit on his spot, hand flying up, enmeshing his fingers along his lightly disheveled hair.

"it's fine, doc."

doc? you raised a brow briefly before letting out a defeated sigh, spirit bent under the weight of the male's persistence, "well— you have my number, in case anything happens, feel free to contact me, yeah?"

"right."

[ y/n l/n ] : did you arrive home safely?

toji stared at his phone screen, switching it off before turning it back on again with a slight tap to the screen — he'd wonder if it was the fatigue catching up with him. or did you really ask him about his safety?

the notification had gone in at least fifteen minutes ago, and toji had been staring at it since it first attracted his attention after he tucked megumi in his little crib. sitting under the dim light, he exhaled loudly through his nostrils.

[ toji zenin ] : yeah

and not even a second later, his phone vibrated right on top of the wooden surface of his dining table. it was expectant, but of course you had replied back to him — in a matter of seconds at that, but toji decided not to take a look at it. laying the old device, screen down onto the table before he laid his head down slowly onto the table top.

his breaths were shallow as he hunched over a bit. for quite some time he stayed in that position, pondering over the events that had washed over his dull and boring life in the past few days. meeting his son's doctor that left him with lingering uncertainty in his mind and even getting a new job because of them.

toji had lost count for the times he wished life could've been easier on him. yes he made stupid choices, and earned stupid prices. the mere action that he made that one dire night had consequences, and he lived to bear it — he had to go into job interviews only to receive nothing but looks that contained disdain, scorn, and disrespect for having his infant son with him, the loud whispers those people thought could never be heard by him were louder than a rasping hiss.

it was completely repulsive.

but life could be pretty strange. time resembled a fractured mirror that reflects distorted fragments of the past, present, and future. uncertainty walking on a tightrope. toji didn't know what was next. the male is so full of distrust that meeting you could either be a new beginning in this little life of his — or you could be a new addition to his long list of mishaps.

the thing is, everything comes back to him to decide.

#KILLSWITCH LULLABY.#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #fluff #toji #fushiguro toji #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro series #toji fushiguro x you #toji series #toji x reader #baby gumi #baby megumi

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munsonluhvr · 21 days

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♡ seven | steve harrington x reader (childhood friends to lovers) (record player series #1) word count - 1.1k

You shift in your seat, tucking your legs against your chest, leaning forward to place your chin on your knees. The soft, warm breeze blows against your skin, leaving goosebumps across your arms in its wake. Your eyes dart to catch Steve’s as he sits across from you on the same picnic blanket. His sparkling, brown eyes glance back at you, a small smile creeping across his mouth.

Even all these years later, he still has his boyish looks from when he was seven. The same messy brown hair, the same lopsided smile. Even after all these years, his gaze still makes you feel like you’re the only girl in the world.

It’s been nearly a year since you last saw Steve, college taking you to different sides of Indiana. You had managed to keep in touch, sending letters occasionally, but it didn’t fill the ache of missing your longest childhood friend. You, of course, made friends at school, but none of them made you feel like Steve, none of them understood you like he did. But as you sit across from him now, the tension between you feels different as if somethings changed.

Steve starts laughing softly, taking you out of your thoughts, his gaze turning from you to across his backyard. The large weeping willows drape over the empty space of his yard, nearly touching the patio chairs Steve’s parents have had for as long as you can remember. The sun warms the ground beneath you, and you let your fingertips disappear into the green fluff of the grass.

“D-Do you remember when I nearly broke my arm jumping off the porch because we were pretending to be pirates? Or when you got into an argument with your parents, so you packed your dolls into your sweater and came over to the house saying that you were coming to live with me?” Steve says between laughs. He shakes his head, reminiscing on the memories you made together as children; thinking about your seven-year-old self, cheeks pink and stained with tears standing on his back porch after the argument with your parents.

You nod, your eyes grazing across his back porch where you could nearly visualize that day as if it was yesterday. You could also remember when you had been playing pirates with Steve and had to run into his house, in search of his parents because he had jumped off the porch to pretend he was going overboard and fell on the ground hard, wailing in pain. Though, he only sprained his arm.

“I think I remember that you wiped my tears, hugged me until I stopped crying and told me we’d run away to India one day. Far away from our parents.” You say, a smile appearing on your own face.

Just then Steve’s eyes drops, his hand going to rub the back of his neck in a self-soothing way; he always did that when he was nervous or distressed. “Yeah, I guess I had a crush on you back then. My seven-year-old self-thought we could run away to India and get married.”

Your heart begins to thud against your chest, butterflies beating their tiny wings against your lungs. Steve had been your best friend for as long as you can remember, not once did you grow apart. Sure, being apart for college was difficult, but you did the best you could. What you had learned at college, however, is that the longing you have to see Steve, the ache you had for your best friend, was no longer platonic – it was love. The time apart from him, around others who didn’t get you the way he did encouraged you to truly understand your feelings for him. The realization had kept you up in your cramped dorm room night after night, but you finally accepted the truth. You loved your childhood friend.

“I-I didn’t know you liked me, ever.” You said, biting at your bottom lip. You can’t recall a single time you felt the sense that Steve could possibly like you more than his childhood best friend.

Steve continues to rub at the back of his neck, then runs a hand through his fluffy hair. “Sometimes I think I still do.” He says, glancing at you. His own heart thumps against his chest, a metallic taste flourishing in the back of his throat.

Steve had had his own realizations after you left for college, the time apart from you encouraged his mind to think about you constantly, missing your presence and the way you could make him laugh. He came to the conclusion he’s always had feelings for you, his younger self thinking it was plausible to sweep you away to India, your precious belongings tucked into your shirt, far away from your parents; but as time went on he had convinced himself that there was a very little chance you could feel the same about him and he hid his feelings until now.

Your jaw slacks ever so slightly at his confession. You can feel an even bigger smile beginning to appear on your face, but you don’t want to seem too eager. “I didn’t know that.”

Steve shrugs, his eyes still struggling to meet yours. His nerves are frayed, searching to find a hint in your voice or body language to see if he’s ruined the most important friendship he’ll ever have. “I didn’t know how to tell you; I could never tell if you felt the same.”

You reach out, your hand making its way to Steve’s that’s placed on the ground, holding him up. You let your fingers intertwine with his, the warmth of his skin brushing against your palm. “You should have said something,” you say, your voice coming out lower then you expected to be.

“Why?” Steve asks, his heart thudding against his chest, his heartbeat echoing in his ears. He’s afraid his heartbeat in his ears will drown out your answer and he’ll miss you saying something he’s waited so long to hear you say.

“Because I feel the same, and I also didn’t know how to tell you," you say. Once the word leaves your lips, the relief you feel makes your body feel light.

The urge to kiss your lips overcomes Steve and following his impulse he leans forward, his soft lips colliding with yours. You hum with pleasure, as Steve's hand reaches towards your, his nimble fingers intertwining with locks of your hair. You lean forward, deepening the kiss with Steve, the flavor of his lips is as sweet as the strawberries you had eaten only a few minutes before. Is this what you've been missing out on all this time?

Steve pulls back just enough to mumble against your lips. "I've wanted to kiss you ever since I was seven and you flashed me a smile with all your missing teeth for the first time." Then he leans back into you, his lips gently pressing against yours, as all of his childhood fantasies come true.

#stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fan fiction #S

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hwaslayer · 3 months

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project: make you love me (jyh) | fifteen.

♣︎ spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: yunho can’t stand how you’re so wrapped up in the notorious campus fuckboy, park seonghwa. he would gladly love you the way you deserve, despite being shy, awkward and the complete opposite of seonghwa. thus, when he finds himself spending more time with you over literature reviews and random study sessions, he decides to take on the challenge to win you over.

—pairing: jeong yunho x f. reader x park seonghwa

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers/friends to lovers, college au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 3.6k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing/mature language, surprise bday party for oc!!, but another day of seonghwa getting on yunho's [everyone's] nerves, yunho is fucking cute 😭 they are fucking cute ok!!, alcohol consumption/intoxication, kisses, making out, shower smut scene (not super descriptive), more angry protective yunho comes in the next update i promise!

"I'm so sorry, babe. I know it's your birthday, but I have to take care of this family thing really quickly." Chaery whines over the phone. "I'll be back before it hits midnight, and we can have our own little celebration, okay? Just me, you and the boys. Enjoy your day with Yunho for now, please." You sigh heavily, bummed that your bestfriend wouldn't be around until later.

"Okay."

"I'll be there, I promise."

"Okay, Chaery." You fiddle with the hem of Yunho's sheets.

"I love you! I have to go and take care of this so that I can come back sooner!"

"I love you, too." You respond, ending the call. You silently sit criss-crossed on Yunho's bed, staring at the phone now sitting below you. Yunho walks in just as he's hopped out the shower, immediately keeping you company while you sulk and pout to yourself.

"Why the long face, princess?"

"I'm just bummed I won't get to see my friends until right before midnight. I get that they have stuff to do but they've always celebrated my birthday with me." You sigh. "I dunno why this time had to be different. Soobin says he's stuck studying with his project group and Seungmin literally is nowhere to be found right now." Your bottom lip pokes out and Yunho thinks you are the cutest thing in the world. He wishes he could tell you, but he doesn't wanna slip up and ruin your surprise. So, he plays along, also poking his bottom lip out.

"I'm sorry, love." Yunho sits on the edge of the bed, hand coming to caress your chin. "I promise I'll make your birthday worthwhile. Okay? Then your friends will be home and I'll get you back as soon as possible." You continue to pout while you nod in agreement. "No more." Yunho chuckles, leaning forward to peck you on the lips. "Please trust me to make your birthday better."

"I do."

"Okay then no more of this." He taps on your bottom lip. "Now, can I ask you to please get dressed so I can take you to dinner?"

"Or.. we can stay here. I'm okay with staying in." You cup his cheeks and he shakes his head.

"As much as I love doing that with you—" He taps the tip of your nose. "No can do, baby. I have to take you to dinner cause we have other plans afterwards."

"What are these plans?"

"Mm, you can't do that." He stands and walks towards his closet. "You placed your trust in me, so don't go back on it now." You let out a playful sigh as you step down from his bed and go through your duffle bag. Because Yunho told you to keep it pretty casual, you slip into your denim mini skirt, a black baby tee, your baseball jacket and converse highs. Yunho spins you around and puckers his lips, playfully [but sweetly] complimenting you as he holds your hand and guides you to the car.

Yunho has a casual dinner planned at one of your favorite restaurants downtown, reserving a table in the beautiful patio underneath one of the outdoor heaters. You squeal when you're able to order your favorite savory crepe after craving it for some time, Yunho giggling at how excited you look when the food finally arrives. The both of you always have neverending conversations about life, school; amongst other topics you find interesting. Conversations are always so fun and lively with Yunho, and it's one of your favorite parts about him. He's comfortable enough to be his silly self, while playing along with your own humor and bad jokes— always making you feel like his one and only special girl.

When it's time for dessert, Yunho has the waitress bring over a slice of cheesecake with a single candle lit in the center— singing along with the staff as they sing happy birthday. He captures a few candid photos just as you're about to make a wish and blow your candle, full on heart eyes when he looks at you through his phone screen.

"Here." He shows you the photos. "The prettiest." You feel the heat rise to your cheeks. "Wonder if she has a boyfriend." He looks at the photo, making you laugh.

"Stop." You take some of your cheesecake and feed him some, feeling content and satisfied with dinner. "So, what's next?"

"Are you finished?" You nod. "Alright. Not telling you, though." He clears his throat before calling the waitress over for the check. "Have you heard from your roommates?" You check your phone as the receipt arrives, Yunho signing off on the bottom line.

"No." You sigh. "Ah well, I guess I'll hear from them when I hear from them, right?" He nods.

"You'll see them before it hits midnight, baby. They wouldn't miss it for a thing." You shrug.

"I know. I am having a good time with you, though."

"Good." He holds his hand out for you to take, leading you out of the restaurant patio and back to the car. Once situated in the passenger seat, Yunho leans over and sweetly asks for a kiss before he drives off. The kiss continues on though, and Yunho is forcing himself to break the kiss [before he takes you home and forgets the entire plan he worked so hard on]. "Mm, Y/N. Please." He slightly hisses, feeling his boxers become a bit tight around the area. "I have to take you to the next spot."

"Really?"

"Yes." He laughs and takes out a blindfold, causing you to raise a brow at the item in his hand.

"Where the hell did you get that?"

"My pocket." He smirks. "You still trust me, right?"

"Mhm. I think?"

"Alright, gonna have to put this on you."

"Kinky." You tease as you fix your position and let Yunho properly fix the blindfold on you.

"Could show you kinky if you want." You snort when he sits back into the driver's seat. "Not too tight?"

"Nope." He begins to drive off to the next destination.

"Cool. Off we go then."

It's probably a good [but long behind the blindfold] 10 minutes before you feel Yunho entering a lot and parking the car. He tells you to stay put, helping you out from the passenger side before guiding you into a building.

It is loud, and it sounds familiar.

"Yunho, why are we at a bowling alley?"

"Because." He says, pausing in his steps before removing your blindfold. As soon as you regain your vision, you see all of your friends in front of you, including your mom, dad and sister. "Remember when you said you and your family love to bowl, but haven't in awhile?"

"Surprise!" They all yell loudly, your family reaching you first for tight hugs and sweet greetings.

"Happy birthday!" Yeosang playfully ruffles your hair before pulling you into a hug.

"Are you serious?" You feel your bottom lip tremble as you begin to cry greeting the rest of your friends. "I thought you two had to take care of stuff. A-and you, you've been MIA all day?!" You cry at your roommates, making them laugh.

"I had to make it more believable than these two." Seungmin laughs.

"Babe, did you really think we'd stupidly miss your birthday?" Chaery holds you close.

"Yes." You pout.

"Yunho's been planning this for awhile, and we would never miss it for the world." She points at the balloons, cake and gifts. "You've got a keeper." She says with a big smile, rubbing your arm to stop you from crying. You continue to greet the rest of the group around, noticing a few other people from school also hanging out for your birthday festivities.

"Birthday shots?!" Yeonjun yells, ordering for a round of shots to be delivered to the lanes. Before everyone takes their shot, your dad makes a little speech for your birthday, thanking Yunho for bringing everyone together on your special day. Yunho stands behind you, allowing you to rest against him while he adds onto your dad's speech— thanking everyone for helping plan and coming along to celebrate.

"Happy birthday, baby." He whispers in your ear.

"Thank you." You look up at him and give him a peck on the lips.

"Happy birthday to our Y/N!" Hyunjin yells, giving everyone leverage to down the first shot of the night. Bowling begins shortly afterwards, with your family and friends sharing lanes to kick off some friendly competition. You continue to take a few more shots with friends in between bowling, conversing with everyone and having a good time with the people you love being under one roof. As you converse and happily yell around with your friends, your eyes land on Yunho across the room. He meets your gaze, his smile growing as he keeps his eyes on you mid-conversation with your mom and sister in between his turns.

And god, he just wants to kiss you, hold you, do everything in his power to show you just how much you mean to him.

He loves you.

His laugh is what breaks the contact, your sister probably teasing him about your relationship or spitting random jokes about the two of you growing up. You giggle to yourself feeling the butterflies in your tummy, wondering how on earth you've gotten so lucky with him.

"I hope you've been having a good birthday so far." Chaery squeezes your arm and leans her head on your shoulder.

"I am." You laugh. "Well, I was kinda upset about you guys because I really believed we wouldn't be able to celebrate together."

"Never." Chaery giggles. "Come on, let's go order some more drinks."

"It's almost your turn!" Jongho yells.

"Bowl for me!" Chaery responds as she drags you to the bar and food area. The two of you order some delicious, fruity cocktails, chatting away with the friendly bartender who sweetly puts the drinks on the house. At this point, you're feeling a good buzz, cheeks hot with the alcohol running through your veins. You and Chaery stick around for a bit with the bartender while tasting your drinks, Yunho eyeing the place to find any sign of you.

But, it's not you he sees first, no.

It's Park Seonghwa.

It's Seonghwa walking into the bowling alley with Mingi and San, and his smile instantly drops. Why the fuck was Seonghwa here, and why did it have to be on your birthday? It feels like trouble, but Yunho can't exactly say he's surprised though. Because of course Seonghwa would find out about this. Of course he'd invite himself to the bowling alley. Of course he'd try and make himself relevant on your birthday.

Dick.

Luckily though, just before Yunho can think of the worst, you finally come into his view and happily skip over with the drink in your hand. All the feelings instantly melt away, the smile returning to his face in an instant.

"Hi." You cutely smile at him.

"Hi." He responds, gently pinching your cheek. "What's that, birthday girl?"

"Taste it." You giggle. He takes a sip of your cocktail, nodding in approval.

"Dangerous."

"But fun, isn't it?" You laugh. "I think I have to pee, though." You start to chug the rest of your drink.

"Slow down, baby." He laughs. "Need me to bring you over there?"

"I can make it." You point at the board. "Can you bowl for me too if I don't make in time?"

"Can't promise it'll be a good one."

"You're good at everything, love." You smile before giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "Be back!" You yell before rushing to the bathroom. The alley has started to fill up over time, a bunch of other groups and families gathering along the other lanes to play some fun, competitive games against each other. You power walk down towards the arcade end where the bathrooms are situated, brushing past a few people and dodging others as they hang around the walkways. When you finally approach the hallway, you feel someone grab at your wrist and gently tug you back— a frown immediately plastered on your face because not only do you really have to pee, but you find yourself facing Seonghwa.

"Hey. I've been trying to find you just to tell you happy birthday." Seonghwa smiles. "Happy birthday, sweetheart."

"Thanks." You try to wiggle out of his grip, but he tightens it and gently tugs you back.

"Baby in too much of a hurry for me?"

"Seonghwa. Seriously?" You glare at him and he laughs. "I really need to go to the bathroom."

"Jeez. So uptight even on your birthday. Yunho's still gonna be in the same position as you left him."

"Great, that's all I want." You brush past him to finally get to the bathroom. "Excuse me." Seonghwa watches as you leave, a small sigh leaving his lips. He heard about the little party Yunho had prepared for you and decided it'd be a good time to stop by. He's not gonna lie, he doesn't care much for bowling as much as San and Mingi do, but he did want to see you and try to talk to you. One, to wish you happy birthday. Two, to see you. And three, to try and ask about the flowers he dropped off because he hasn't heard anything about them.

He was trying, and he was hoping you'd see that. Even though this was new territory for him, he wasn't gonna give up that easily. After all, you and him had more history than Yunho. And that keeps him going.

When Seonghwa turns to find his boys, he sees Mingi and San mingling with the group; even getting a random bowl in or two. Mingi's talking to Yunho and he can't help but roll his eyes; completely over Yunho's entire act.

"Oh, tell Y/N I said happy birthday then!" Mingi gives Yunho a dap as soon as Seonghwa makes his way over and squeezes his shoulder.

"Yeah, let her know for me too, will you? Wanted to give her a gift, but we didn't really have time to catch up since she was on her way to the bathroom." Seonghwa winks. "Know how much she loves the little things."

"Yeah, I'm good off of that." Yunho responds before sipping on his drink, Yeosang slowly coming to his side as Seonghwa chuckles at his answer.

"Come on dude, that's his girlfriend now." San mumbles next to him, making Seonghwa shake his head.

"Yeah, whatever." He clears his throat. "Anyway. Let's get the fuck outta here. Hella boring." Seonghwa turns on his heel and starts heading out of the alley, San clicking his teeth in slight frustration while Mingi obliviously waves to Yunho and bids his farewell.

"Tell her!" Mingi yells and Yunho gives him a nod of acknowledgement.

"He's joking, right?" Yeosang asks.

"Wish he was. Can't say I'm surprised, though."

"Don't let him get to you. He's just trying to get a reaction out of you."

"I know. But, I don't get why he won't just leave her alone? Why doesn't he get it?" Yeosang shakes his head.

"Dude has always gotten his way. He's not used to being left." Yunho lets out a small scoff before sitting, eyes scanning the area again until he can find you. He's not gonna lie, he's a little uneasy after that, and he wishes he could just have you here and shield you away from the rest of the world—

"I'm back." You announce, your sister handing you another shot to take before pushing you to bowl. Everything is ten times louder than it was before, and you're definitely still a bit drunk. "Yuyu!" You yell.

"Hey princess." Yunho looks up at you as you sit sideways on his lap, arm swung over his shoulder. "You okay, birthday girl?"

"Mhm. Better." He chuckles, his hand giving your thigh a squeeze. "How about you?" You tilt your head to the side and although Yunho is a little worked up from the encounter with Seonghwa, he can't help but melt in your presence. It's hard to stay mad at anything when you're around.

"I'm good as long as you are." You giggle. "Heard you ran—?" You lean forward, unable to hear him clearly through the music and people yelling.

"What?"

"Heard you ran into Seonghwa. What was that about?"

"Seonghwa being Seonghwa." He looks at you with his brows slightly furrowed, and you're unsure if he believes you or not. He does, it's really not that he doesn't. He just doesn't trust Seonghwa and he can't help it especially with the history you two have.

Even though you were his, a tiny part of him was still scared that you'd leave him for Seonghwa; especially with the way that he didn't seem to be giving up on you so easily.

Too bad Yunho wouldn't give up on you either. Ain't no way he'd let someone come for his woman.

He'll make sure that's clear.

"You sure that's all?" You pause and slightly hesitate before responding.

"Of course." You look at him and your heart sinks. Would you be creating unnecessary drama over something that you have no interest in anymore? Would it matter or change anything if you told him about those roses? "He just wished me happy birthday and I brushed past him."

"Hm." Is all he says before kissing you on the cheek. "Okay."

The rest of the night continues to be a party— you and your loved ones happily bowling, drinking and playing; going on for hours until people start to leave one by one. Your family gives you extra hugs and kisses, thanking Yunho for taking care of you and for getting everyone together for your birthday.

In the end, your roommates take the remainder of the cake home, while you, Yeosang and Yunho head back to their place for the night.

"Today was so fun!"

"Yeah?" Yunho laughs.

"So fun. I'm still kinda drunk."

"Kinda?" Yeosang laughs seeing you hang onto Yunho's arm, which turns into you hanging onto him like a koala.

"Kinda! I'm not that drunk. Just enough." You burp against Yunho's neck.

"Ou, nice. That was a good one." Yunho says, waddling up the steps and carefully guiding you up along with him. "Think you can beat that with another?"

"No. I'll probably throw up."

"Don't want that, now do we?" He chuckles, giving you room to kick off your shoes in the apartment before heading to the room.

"I wanna take a quick shower." You say as you grab some of Yunho's clothes and waddle to the bathroom.

"You should probably go in there." Yeosang gives Yunho's shoulder a squeeze. "I'll leave some medicine and water by your bed for her."

"Thanks." Yunho quickly snags his own pajamas before slipping into the bathroom to make sure you're okay. "You okay there, baby?" You've just stepped under the water when Yunho walks in, the outline of your body still clear through the shower doors.

"Mhm. Water feels nice." You let out a content sigh before dropping Yunho's body wash bottle.

"Hm." He hums. "Mind if I step in with you?"

"Nope." He sheds off his clothes and steps into the piping hot shower, eyes glossing over your body.

"Can I help you with that?" Yunho asks, gently taking the loofa from your hands. You giggle as he starts with your back, turning you around once he's satisfied to cover your front. You kiss him in between, smiling against his lips before you take your turn to help get him washed up. His hands start to roam your body, gently squeezing at your sides when you continue to kiss him the way you do, love on him the way you do.

Innocent kisses turn into heated makeout sessions with the water still pounding against your skin, to Yunho slowly and gently taking you against the cold wall; large hand propping up your leg as he shushes you against your lips, whispering praises in between little reminders of keeping it quiet. Eventually, the both of you reach your highs— the two of you caught in a giggle fit afterwards knowing that you have to repeat the process and wash up all over again.

He wouldn't have it any other way though, and so wouldn't you. You feel like you're on cloud nine after today, heart filled with so much love especially because of Yunho.

Life is just so much sweeter with him in it, and you love him.

After the both of you wash off again, you step out of the shower and finish getting ready for bed. You thank Yeosang and bid him goodnight before stepping into the room and slipping under the covers.

"Did you have a good day today?" Yunho asks, close to a whisper.

"The best birthday I've had."

"Yeah?" He chuckles.

"Mhm." You caress his cheek and look him in the eyes. "Thank you, Yunho. For everything."

"Of course, baby." He kisses your forehead. "You deserve it all." He watches with a small smile on his face as you quickly fall asleep, hand gently rubbing your back. After today's festivities, Yunho should be sleeping. But tonight, it feels like a stretch when the thoughts at the back of his mind come to the forefront; a tiny sigh leaving his lips when he remembers the encounter with Seonghwa. He feels uneasy, kinda unsettled and annoyed. He remembers the small detail of hesitancy that pulled up on your expression. He's not sure why, and he's not trying to figure it out right now.

It's frustrating.

He doesn't want to assume you're hiding something from him, that something odd is going on, though his gut tells him otherwise.

And for once, he truly hopes it's wrong.

♣︎ taglist: @s-nsanshine @soupbinlily @tyongff-ff @jiminiscricket @g1g1l @staytinyinmybpack @woomyteez @gfksz @bitchwhytho @savluvsmingi @thisisntmyrightera @hyukssunflower @miriamxsworld @tmtxtf @kuromibabe04 @lmnhead @carrietwrites @tournesol155 @persphonesorchid @txt-yaomi @mxnsxngie @h-nji @mundayoonimnida @jalapeno-princess @nakiiko @asjkdk @kunikku @idkwgoh @kyeos4ng @agust-d2 @araknoid @bintificreads @primoppang @betray-the-light @aurorasjoongie @wineyoungie @yunhotteokkk @yungigiggles @jaerisdiction @ignoretheskies @luminouskalopsia @naeviscall @vixensss @choisansplushie @arya9111 @my-lightspirit @dazednconfusion @astro-doll-the-star @faesmingi @idfkeddieishot @startinystay @emily505 @mgdixon @mcsalterego @cheynalexilaiho

#yunho fanfic #yunho series #jeong yunho series #jeong yunho fanfic #ateez series #ateez x reader #ateez #yunho #jeong yunho #yunho x reader #jeong yunho x reader #ateez imagines #kpop imagines #yunho smut #yunho angst #jeong yunho smut #jeong yunho fluff #jeong yunho angst #hwaslayer: project make you love me

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hoshigray · 10 months

Note

Hi!! I love your Toji so much you write him so well 🙏🏼 I was wondering if you could write something smutty about motorcyclist toji or like something to do with a car 🙊

Tysm, noonieeeeee~♡ ;w; Not ppl actually liking how I write for this sly bastard!! And oooooo a motorcyclist!?? Lol, never thought I'd write something with this idea, but here we are!! Please enjoy~~~ Also!! Just announced a series that I'll be writing for the summer, so check it out if you're interested!

Cw: Toji x fem!reader - explicit content so minors DNI - oral (f!receiving) - the reader is in college studying for finals - Daddy kink - motorcyclist! Toji - sexual acts in a public space (at a park in the night) - pet names (baby, angel, pumpkin, sweetie) - pussy drunk! Toji - clitoral play (plus light bites to the clit) - fingering - overstimulation - it ends on a cute note bc I'm feeling soft. Wc: 1.7k

The time is 10:45 p.m. when you look up at your laptop. You look around to see the work-study employee come in your direction, and you smile with recognition since you know they're about to tell you it's time to go. They smile back, turn back to where they came from, and you stand up to gather up your things.

It was the beginning of finals week, and it's been downright abysmal. Not only do you have three papers to write (one being a minimum of eight pages), but you also have a group presentation and two in-person exams three hours long each. You and your roommates barely get enough time to hang out, especially when you're practically cooped up in the library all day like today. When library hours are over, you walk to another building where you spend more hours studying and writing. And by the time you get to your dorm, you go straight to sleep and repeat the process.

It doesn't take rocket science to know that you — and everyone on the campus — have absolutely abhorred exams. However, for the sake of your grades, you endure it and do what you can. As long as you have a proper place to study and stop by your campus café for some quick grub, so be it.

But now, you've been studying non-stop without wasting time on distractions. It's time to go; you'll probably call it a night and head for bad. Your productivity finally dwindled down to exhaustion. I'll jump onto Discord to chat with some friends and see what they've been up to. They're probably doing better than what I'm going through...And if he's still awake, I should definitely call—

As you put your bag on your shoulder, the sound of an engine catches your attention. A motorbike engine. At first, you figured it was coming from the main street until it started getting closer. Is someone ordering Doordash or something? Curiosity has you as you walk down the stairs to exit through the entrance, waving goodbye to the receptionist who's also getting ready to leave.

When you enter the chilly outside air, the owner of said noise is parked in front of the entrance, the vehicle stationed for him to lean back and briefly look at his phone before putting it away. They're wearing a dark denim jacket covering a black shirt and some jeans. And a jet-black helmet that shields them with their tinted visor. Their dark appearance fits the dreary, foggy atmosphere, the lampposts only making them visible to the eye.

You freeze for a second when the mysterious person turns to face you, and you offer an awkward smile and nod as a quick greeting before heading your way. But then the person removes their helmet to reveal themselves to you, and your eyes widen.

With slightly messy raven hair and green eyes that capture your figure, the man flashes a grin that pulls his scarred lip upwards. Toji Fushiguro, your boyfriend you haven't seen since Easter break, was here.

"Hey, baby." It feels like forever since you've heard his gruff voice, and it has you smiling hard in seconds.

"Toji!" You run up to him for a hug which is returned, sinking into his strong arms and warm chest while his cologne fills your nostrils. "What are you doing here?"

"Thought I could come down here and surprise my lil' angel," he sways you in his arms, relishing having you in his embrace. "I texted you that I was gonna pull up."

You withdraw from the hug and look at him with mild confusion. "You did?" You quickly grab your phone from your pocket and go to your messages, only to see that he, in fact, texted you earlier. Two hours ago. "You did...Sorry, must've left my phone when I was heading out to grab something to eat."

He shrugs and slides his hands down your waist to pull you close again. "How're your exams goin'?"

"Terrible." He chuckles when you give him a faux pout. "I got one paper out the way, but the others...at least I've started on them."

"Mmm, I bet." He responds with a hand on your cheek and your forehead. "Gonna head home to study some more?"

His big warm palm nestles perfectly against your cheek as you lean to his touch. "Nah, I'm too exhausted, and I'm too stressed to think anymore. That's for tomorrow."

Toji hums with a smile. "Well, think y'r too stressed to hang with me for a while? Maybe I can relieve some tension."

You raise a brow at him and his smug grin. "Oh yeah? How're you gonna do that?"

"Hop on so you can find out." The man removes his hands from you to open the trunk of his motorcycle, handing you a helmet — your helmet as it's your favorite color.

You give your boyfriend a look. "This better not be like last time when you took me to some random ramen place where we ate super spicy ramen to the point of boogers running down from my nose."

He laughs. "No, it's not gonna be like that. Now get your cute ass on so we can go, pumpkin."You still study his face, yet don't try to argue while putting on your helmet and take your spot behind him after putting your bag in the trunk.

When he knows you're appropriately sitting in the passenger seat with your arms linked around his waist, he starts the engine and revs the vehicle before moving. The two of you drive away from the school premise. You can only wonder where the man is taking you, but your trust in him has no bounds. And you just watch the lights and people of the vicinity fly past as you rest against him.

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

The two of you pulled up to a parking lot of a quiet park. No sign of children playing on the playground as it's way past their bedtimes, and not a single person on the basketball court playing a late game. Just the still park paired with the comforting silence and humid, cool air.

Nothing but quiet, minus your whimpers leaving evading your lips. "Haaaah—Ahhh! Daddy...'S too much, feel so—Hmmm!"

You're now lying on Toji's motorcycle, your back on the seats and your hands gripping the handlebars. Your lower half was completely exposed, with your bottoms and panties discarded around your leg. Your boyfriend was busy burying his face between your legs on his shoulders, his firm hands on your waist to keep you steady and close.

With the flick of his tongue on your clit, you bite your lip to repress a whine. But Toji wanted your cries. "Mmmm, don't do that, sweetie. No one's around, so lemme hear you."

His tongue goes back between your slick-coated vulva, sucking and lapping around the folds to have your essence in his mouth. His nose brushes up against your clitoris, resulting in a lovely moan from your swollen lips.

It's been about 10 minutes of just him ravishing your body outside this public park. You've already come three times, yet the man is relentless in having you again. He's so stubborn, so selfish. But God, it feels so good.

"Nnnmph! Hoooo—Ohhh! D-Daddy, please, your tongue, it's tew muuuch!" Your words are slurred, brain too foggy to properly speak with his tongue "Can't cumm anymore...Aaaahhhh!!"

Unbeknownst to you, Toji sneaks a hand down to your clitoris and swipes up and down with the sensitive button. Your body jerks upward from the surprise, but Toji's other hand keeps you grounded on the stationed vehicle so you and the motorbike don't go kissing the ground. "C'mon, sweetie. One more fr' me."

Before you could protest further, his tongue laves your clit again, sucking on the poor bud and lightly brushing it against his teeth. Eyes roll to the back of your head as your hips jolt to the abuse of your poor bud, and his free hand switches places to finger your leaky chasm with your fluids coating his digits.

Your release hits you hard for the fourth time that night, and your legs quake with a sharp shiver down your spine. Your cunt spasms around his fingers while the euphoric aftershocks send your body trembling.

Toji removes his face from you and looks down at your dazed expression from capitulating to your high. He whistles. "Damn, you're lookin' good lying on my bike all fucked out like this, angel."

Even in a haze, you send the man a glare. "I hope you brought a towel to clean me up."

"To clean my bike, actually." Your glare hardens, and it makes the older man snicker. "Relax, I got another one just for you."

It takes a few minutes for you to dry yourself up and for the bike to be clean of your essence and sweat. Once you pull up your bottoms, Toji has his eyes on you. "Did that help with y'r stress?"

"Mmmm, yeah, I think so." You give him a peck on the scar on his lips. "Thanks, Toji."

"No problem, kid." He pulls you by the waist to bring you close so he can rest his chin on your head. "Wanna spend the night at my place?"

"......Is that why you drove me like fifteen minutes away from my school?"

He doesn't answer.

"And I'm pretty sure we've been here before because isn't this the same park that Megumi and Tsumiki play at?"

"......"

You peer up to face the silent man. "Toji—"

The older man leans down to kiss your plump lips softly, silencing your words. With a heavy sigh, he puts his forehead atop yours. "I missed ya, kid."

The tiny confession takes you aback for a moment, but your smile appears for him to see. "Awww, did my big Toji miss having me all to himself~?"

"Shut up." He playfully bites your cheek, prompting giggles that sound like sweet music to his ears.

"I missed you too, Toji." You say with loving eyes. "Once I'm done with finals, take me on a nice long ride on your motorcycle, 'kay?"

He hums to your request and kisses you once more. "Sounds like a plan."

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porcelainseashore · 4 months

Text

Teenage Headache Dreams (1)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: High School! College! Leon Kennedy x Dancer! Fem! Reader

Summary: You’re a bored, but ambitious high school student who can’t wait to escape small town life and make it in the big city. You thought you had it all figured out, until you unwittingly befriend the resident golden boy, Leon. A series of events beginning from junior year to college until Resident Evil 2 Remake.

Warnings: 18+ Swearing, Recreational Drug Use, Eventual Smut, No (Y/N), Ambiguous/Open Ending

Content: High School AU, College AU, Pre-Resident Evil 2, Fluff, Romance, Cliche, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Lack of Communication

Author's Note: This is my first RE / Leon fic, but I wanted to try my hand at writing this little self-indulgent and potentially clichéd series. As you can guess, I love dance and high school dramas. I also created this with a sequel in mind, which will take place post-RE4R and involve more horror and mystery elements.

AO3 Link

Chapter 1: An Unexpected Friendship

It was one of those beautiful late summer days with endless light and clear blue skies overhead. You leaned back against the bleachers, feeling the sun cast a warm glow on your face and the sultry breeze against your skin, sighing in utter bliss. The football field and the running track surrounding it were completely empty, just how you liked it, silent except for the relentless trilling of insects and the occasional bird that flew by. No one in your face, no one judging you or telling you how you should be like, no one you had to put up a front for. Just peace and quiet. A place where you could sit alone with your thoughts - and you had a lot of them - mostly about leaving this goddamn small town with its insular, mind-numbing inhabitants.

A trail of thick smoke wafted from your mouth as you took a drag from the joint you had been nursing for awhile. You weren’t exactly high as a kite, but you were definitely feeling some of its effects. You chuckled and gave a wry smile as the thought of being caught red-handed visualized in your mind. Sure, it was highly illegal what you were doing, much less on school property, but you were always a bit of a rebel. And frankly, you couldn’t give a shit. It was already August, but most students were still away on holiday. Not you though, you had to work on your extracurriculars. That’s what you had put your mind to this summer. No fancy beach getaways like the rest of your cheerleading mates had jetted off to. Just a grueling dance intensive and showcase you had auditioned successfully for in one of the larger cities nearby, as well as a bunch of campus visits. You needed to perfect your performance technique for that arts college application coming up in about a year’s time. You started way earlier than the rest even thought about it, because you knew you only had one chance for a one-way ticket out of this hole and you sure as hell weren’t taking any chances. Well, except with that funky smelling thing in your hand.

No one would be here anyway, it’s a Sunday for crying out loud! You shook your head in exasperation. Besides, you needed to relax and take the edge off a little.

Just as if you jinxed it with those thoughts, you heard the gate to the field unlocking and creaking open behind you.

Shit, shit, shit! Your eyes darted around frantically, but your movements were just so slow. Why the fuck would someone be here now?

Before you could drop the joint and stub it out with your shoe, a mop of dirty blonde hair and what you made out as someone dressed in a blue tracksuit with a duffel bag slung over his right shoulder entered your peripheral vision. It was soon accompanied by a sharp twist of his head in your direction, bangs falling over his deep blue eyes and you knew he had found the source of the offending smell, probably even from a mile away. His gaze trailed their way from your startled face to your joint hanging limply at the edge of your fingers and then back to your face again. His expression turned from confusion to a frown and then into a knowing smirk as he crossed his arms and leaned against the bleachers.

“Oh, hello. Didn’t expect to see you here. You got cheer practice or something?”

God, he was teasing you. At least you hoped that was all it was and not some form of blackmail. Well, no point hiding now.

“I’m off-duty,” you retorted. You tried to jog your memory of the boy standing in front of you. You were social, or at least you had to be with the rest of your girlfriends to keep up appearances, but you never really bothered with the people here beyond superficial conversations. Then you finally found it - a vague recollection of last season’s track and field meet. He had been one of the better sprinters, maybe the best even, you can’t really remember. There was an afterparty, and you congratulated him, but you doubt there was anything more substantive than that.

“Leon, isn’t it?”

His eyes perked up slightly and he smiled. “In the flesh.”

You snorted at his cheesy reply. What was he pulling?

“They gave you the key?” It almost sounded as if you were jealous.

He uncrossed his arms and placed his duffel bag on one of the benches in front of him, rummaging through its contents. “Yeah, I got a comp in the new term coming up.” Every now and then he glanced up at you, as if he wanted to ask something, but stopped himself.

A sense of boldness surged within you, as you felt like evening the odds a bit. “What? You want some?” You waved the joint in his face.

That certainly caught his attention. He stared for a good moment, before giving another one of his playful smiles and shaking his head. “Maybe after practice.” He unzipped his jacket and put it away. It was warm enough to train in his sports tank and as you admired the lean, muscular structure of his arms and shoulders now bared open, you couldn’t complain.

“So, how did you get in?”

Fuck. You snapped out of your reverie. He got you there, but you didn’t feel like lying. “Jumped the fence. You should try it some time.” You replied as nonchalantly as possible.

“Didn’t know you had it in you,” he laughed.

“Oh, you’d be surprised.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Will I now?” The way it rolled off his tongue felt like a challenge and you secretly enjoyed this banter going on between you, as if you had known each other for years.

Shrugging your shoulders, you took another hit from the joint and let the calmness envelope you. “I never disappoint.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Leon flashed a wide grin that made you feel a knot forming in your stomach, but you didn’t know why.

He started to move towards the tracks, but stopped short, turning back to meet your eyes again. “Look, you don’t have to worry about all of that.” He gestured to what you were holding and the general surroundings. “I’m not going to tell.” With that, he made a sign that resembled crossing his heart. “It’ll be between you and me.”

You would have thought it was a joke if not for the sincere look he gave you, before heading off to train. That, and the fact that he did indeed take up your offer to join you afterwards in sharing what was left of the joint. You didn’t expect someone like him to. He seemed a bit too much of a straight-laced, golden boy for that. But then again, life was filled with surprises and you quietly scolded yourself for playing into stereotypes again - something you despise others doing to you.

It prompted both of you to converse even more until the late evening where you even missed your dinner. The questions and responses just flowed.

It turned out that you would share a number of classes together in the new term, specifically Math, History and Biology. Leon was a real earful when it came to his “insightful” one-liners on the teachers, which made you bury your head in your hands and groan. You never realized he would be such a goofball, but you found it somewhat endearing.

Like you, he was popular at school, but unlike you, he seemed to enjoy the company and appeared to be an open book. He would say it how it is, sometimes to the point of being blunt to a fault. Still, you guessed people found him rather easy-going and likable, in a non-threatening sort of a way. A part you wondered if chance meetings like today were how he made most of his friends.

Leon didn’t really have a plan for college yet. He just knew he wanted to do something good and help other people. You had a word for it - “idealistic”. He just shrugged in response, eyes downcast, until you assured him that it was an admirable quality, and you were the jaded one. He made a toast to your future in some arts college in the big city with his water bottle, remarking with a hint of self-deprecation that he wished he had a clearer idea of what he wanted to do with his life.

In turn, he asked you about your dealer. You had to stifle a laugh at that one. Generally, you weren’t as big into smoking up as he thought, but this time you bummed it off one of the seniors as a favor he owed you for hooking him up with one of your cheerleader friends. It didn’t stop Leon from calling you the “high school’s little pothead” every now and then though. He peered at you intently with his lip curled in amusement, as you rolled your eyes each time.

It had been such a long time since you could joke and speak your mind with someone this way. There wasn’t that suffocating nausea of pretending to be someone else around him and he had been so relaxed with you too. You could finally breathe again, and you’d like to think it wasn’t just the weed talking.

Whatever it was, you guessed this was the beginning of a real friendship - one that happened out of serendipity, but made you feel like you weren’t going to rot away in this small town. Well, not alone anyway.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy smut #high school au #college au #re2 leon #re2 remake #resident evil 2 #resident evil #porcelainscribbles

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pedgito · 4 months

Text

𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐒 ╳ SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter Six: Epilogue

Chapter Summary: You spend a year trying to forget about Joel, with no avail. And Joel, who's life has changed in ways he never anticipated lead to a year full of obstacles, until one fateful day when he sees you again.

Chapter Warnings: (6k) : no outbreak, the aftermath, lots of feelings, some parenting issues within joel's relationship with sarah's mom, reader still having no idea wtf to do with her life, intense feelings between joel/reader, underlying lust for each other (i mean, are we surprised?), open-ended ending

Life doesn’t just fall back into place, as much as you wished it had.

For you, it takes more than a few days or weeks, rather several months to not ache from the loss of Joel, something so special to you for such a short period of your life. His gift, the small carved wolf he’d given you for Christmas sat beside your bed, something you fell asleep to and woke to every morning—after a while, fortunately, it was less of a burden to look at and more of a beautiful reminder.

Your relationship with your family slowly improves, though it is rocky at first. You’re an adult, but it doesn’t stop the constant prying questions and worries about your life—something you have to set boundaries around. But, as a whole, you find that giving them a chance to improve and better their relationship with you is better than nothing at all.

And you want to say that you’ve figured out college and exactly what you wanted to do with your life, but it isn’t even close to being on your radar—and you enjoy your job now, working as one of the few employees at your local bookstore along with a serving job at the diner down the road, closer to the suburbs. You still keep your apartment in Austin and the commute from the city to there isn’t horrible, but it could be better.

There are long weeks, a few moments when Joel fades from your mind almost completely—but as fate would have it, something would remind you of him.

At first, it was nearly everything.

Coffee in the early mornings when you walked beyond the coffee shop beside the bookstore, the smell of coffee beans like a pavlovian response, heartbeat skipping at the memory of Joel, smiling softly around the rim of his cup as he sipped away. Sometimes so noisy that you know it was only to annoy you.

Or, it’s music. God awful country that had you grimacing at the first note, knowing Joel would be nodding his head along without a problem, somehow managing to find some enjoyment in it. Other times, it’s the music you listened to often, knowing he’d take interest in and probably like himself. Usually you would have a quiet playlist of music playing over the radio in the bookstore and even that takes a few months to feel like less of a thing.

Sometimes, it was nothing at all. A gruff clear of the throat could make you think Joel was in your presence, the sight of that green flannel he never took off, worn on a body that didn’t belong to him.

You’d like to think that Joel didn’t matter to you. That he didn’t matter at all.

But, that was so far from what was believable.

And to his credit, he does get you the money for the cabin refunded.

It comes a few weeks after you arrive back in Austin, toward the end of January. It didn’t have any other note than a ‘Sorry for the inconvenience over the holiday and that you couldn't stay—here's your refund for the cabin’. So, essentially, Joel had lied to them.

You couldn’t even blame him, really. He’d done well on his promise.

For Joel, there are waves of intensity when he thinks of you.

He doesn’t go out often anymore, keeping himself inside rather than finding a reason to go out on weekends and late nights after a rough day at work—he’s found easier ways to cope with the loneliness, taking up his wood carving more seriously. He set up a small area in his bedroom that he spends most of his time in now, carving out and selling personalized items for extra money on the side.

Sarah had to explain him through setting up his own shop online over the phone, but once it was said and done, he was able to manage fine.

And, maybe it was some other-worldly being sending him a gift, but a few months after he arrives back in Austin, still reeling, he gets a call from Sarah—mostly her crying and a lot of Joel consoling her down to an understandable, calmer state. In that time, he learns of just how much has changed since he’d went away for that month and in the short period that he didn’t have contact with Sarah due to her mother and her resistance to allowing Joel any leeway or fairness in their strained relationship, if you could call it that.

Sarah was hysterical, going on and on about how she was never going to see him again.

“Babygirl, slow down, please,” He begged, struggling to make out anything beyond the sobs, “I can’t understand you when you’re cryin’ like that. Are you okay?”

“I’m—I’m not supposed to call you.” She stammers, her cries dying out slowly, “She said I was grounded and took my phone but dad—she’s going to get me in trouble when she finds out that–that I called you.”

“That’s not possible, alright?” He tells her, trying to remain level-headed, “You can call me anytime you want, you know that.”

“She—She won’t tell you,” Sarah’s voice is hushed, like she’s hiding and trying not to get caught as she talks over the other line, “but mom got a new job, it’s in Las Vegas.”

Joel feels the anger beginning to build quickly, having a faint idea where this was heading but not wanting to direct any of it toward his daughter.

“Baby, go find your mom and put her on the phone.” He tells her soft but stern, feeling his phone pop under his grip, hoping that he hadn’t cracked it, but trying to simmer down his rage for his own good.

“She’s gonna be mad, dad.”

“Sarah,” He tells her once, and it’s enough, “Get your mom.”

The talk doesn’t go well, but it also doesn’t go horrible either.

“You’re not takin’ her from me,” It’s the first thing he says, not allowing a word from her as he hears her breath over the phone, “and you’re not gonna get her in trouble for tellin’ me either.”

“Joel—”

“No, I don’t want to hear what excuses you have this time.” He continues, “We have a custody agreement—you break that, I’m takin’ you to court without a goddamn second of hesitation. You already keep her enough from me as is, knowing she likes it here more. You’re never around, you leave her with a nanny all the fuckin’ time. And you want to up and move out of the state without tellin’ me?”

“I was gonna tell you—”

“What, when you were already moved?” Joel retorts, “That why you took Sarah’s phone away, because she was tryin’ to warn me about all this? You’ve got a lot of fuckin’ nerve to think you can just take her like that.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t been so irresponsible you would have her more. It’s not my fault you made choices that endangered our daughter and uprooted my plans, having to become the sole provider because you’re goddamn alcoholic—”

“Look, I know the choices I made. I’ve paid for them, for years now. It was one—one fuckin’ time in my life. If you think I’m gonna let you take her from me now, like that, you’ve lost your mind. I will take you to court over this.”

In the end, it does end up going through the process of rearranging custody—Joel no longer tied down by his charges and his willingness to openly test as asked, whenever, and that he take primary custody of her in the weeks that her mother would be away in Nevada for work, which ended up being about a week within every month.

It’s a big shift for Joel, but one he takes on willingly and with so much confidence that it doesn’t phase him, in fact, it feels like nothing has changed. Just that Sarah is a constant in his life, physically, rather than something out of his reach.

By July, she’s with him full-time when she’s not with her mother, and even those weeks are often cut short, called off for emergencies and ultimately ending with Joel having to pick her up after a few days—it didn’t bother him, it never would.

And he’s thankful for Sarah, because she occupies his mind entirely.

He feels bad for the days he doesn’t think of you at all, so wound up in his own daily life and routine that he doesn’t even have a minute to think about anything else—but, maybe it was better that way.

But, there’s a brief moment when the first snowfall happens that year, later in November around the time that Sarah is taking a break from school for the holidays, that she hits him with a question he doesn’t expect, nor does he understand how she even came to the conclusion in her own mind.

“Hey, dad,” She speaks curiously, head turned to him over the couch to look at him where he stood in the kitchen, “who took that picture last year that you sent?”

“What are you talkin’ bout, babygirl?” He asks, standing over the stove as he cooked dinner, lounging in his pajamas and cooking something of a semblance of what could be Thanksgiving–but, it was just him, Sarah, and Tommy, so it wasn’t as extravagant as it needed to be.

“That picture of you with the snowman last year—for Christmas?” Her eyes are searching his face, not for an answer but rather because she has that innocence that children and young teen hold, the obliviousness to everything but what is going in their world—Joel shakes his head, your face flashing in his mind as he white knuckles the spoon he’s using to stir and thinks about lying.

He wants to lie. He should.

But, he can’t remember a time he’s ever lied to Sarah outside of something for her own protection—and this was something Joel thought of fondly, his time shared with you.

So, he doesn’t lie.

“I, uh—met a friend there. She helped me out and took a picture to make sure I could send somethin’ to you, seein’ as I didn’t get to spend the time I wanted with you last year.”

“Oh,” Sarah chews at the inside of her cheek, “a girl?”

“Yes, babygirl.”

Sarah nods—the meticulous and intelligent child she is, she catches the lingering smile on Joel’s face and leans in, arm slung over the back of the couch as she asked another question.

“So, when you say friend—” She purses her lips together, eyes squinting with accusation

“Sarah.” It’s a warning to ease off, but if anything, it makes her giggle.

“Oh, so, not a friend.” She surmises, “Got it.”

She was too damn smart for her own good.

“Do you still talk to her?” She asks, fully aware of how things were with Joel and her mother, that they didn’t get along from the jump despite their willingness to work together to make sure she had some semblance of a normal childhood with both parents in the picture—it was never the way she wanted it to be, but it was out of her control.

She was fourteen now, she had the right to understand things. She questioned Joel everyday, sometimes about things even he didn’t understand. And he’s thankful to have her around, knowing she keeps him on his toes, never knowing what to expect.

“No, babygirl. I don’t.”

Joel’s bitterness about it isn’t evident in his voice, but she sees it in the way his eyes flick away briefly, toward his room. But, the knock at the door is a lifesaver, pulling them both out of the moment.

“Should be uncle Tommy, get the door.” He tells her.

She doesn’t ask about it again, thankfully. Joel doesn’t know how much more he could handle explaining to her, knowing you were only a memory to him now.

Christmas comes quick too, the year flying by as Joel switches into full dad mode without a single hesitation. School, sports, teenagers—it’s a big change but he handles it with as much ease as he can, along with work and everything else he’s taken on.

“Dad, you remember that bookstore we passed the other day?” Sarah asks, bugging her dad from the passenger seat as they leave their third store for the day, giving Sarah free-range to spend her money she’d accumulated over the holiday. “Next to that coffee shop you like to go to sometimes.”

“Yeah—that your last stop for the day?” Joel asks curiously, but also silently hoping she’d agree, exhausted out of his mind and ready to take a nap on the couch the moment they got home–a mix of older age and being a parent, never feeling like the sleep he got was enough.

“Yes, I promise.” Sarah smiles, settling into her seat comfortably and clicking the seatbelt into place.

Luckily, it isn’t too far of a drive from where they were, a few blocks down and a couple of turns later and Joel is taking an open parking spot in front of the coffee shop, not anticipating how busy the bookstore would be and Sarah can see it all over Joel’s face.

“People still read, dad.” Sarah chides, “You know that, right?”

‘Course I do, smartass.”

He was well aware of a certain someone’s reading habits.

The day after Christmas is almost never calm, packed to the brim with kids eager to spend their parent’s money on books and toys and things that would inevitably get trashed or lost eventually—but it’s nice. The shift will fly by, you’ll make a lot of children happy, and you’ll go home. An easy day.

So easy that it seemed too good to be true.

You find a lull in the rush, slipping into the backroom to grab a box of books for reshelving, too busy in your own head as your crouched on the floor behind the counter to open the box, unaware of the presence of a couple customers that loomed near the front entrance, circling a trove of books while a crowd of others filtered out through the front doors. The bells ring and despite looking, you still let out the normal greeting and a few kind words.

“Welcome in, I’ll be with you in a minute.” You say sweetly, tucked away and out of sight.

“Oh, that’s alright—my daughter is just havin’ a look around.”

And if there was a surefire way to make your heart stop—it was that voice.

That voice you knew so well that there wasn’t even the smallest doubt in your mind.

You take a deep breath, lugging the open box in your arms as you haul it to a nearby table and Joel doesn’t even think before he’s offering to help, still blissfully unaware of the trap he’s set himself up in, only freezing when you push his hand away gently.

“I’ve got it, Joel.” You say softly, your face tilting up into view and his eyes pulling to yours in an instant, the mix of panic and relief setting in at the same time—the feeling so intense he almost forgets where he is. “It’s fine.”

Joel clears his throat, glancing over at Sarah who is a few aisle deep, in her own world as she sifted through the selection of books.

“Well, I guess you found me.” You said playfully, a way to ease the worry that you could see crossing his face, thinking that he’d crossed a line unknowingly. Joel never asked where you worked, never even put together the connection or possibility that you could work in a bookstore this close to his home, the area he visited almost weekly. He’s gotten coffee next door more times than he can count on two hands and the idea that you were just a few feet out of reach—something dies inside of him. “Hey.”

His fist curls, restraining the instinct to reach out and touch you, held tight at his side as he trades a few quick looks between you and Sarah, like he’s fighting a losing battle within him.

It’s been a year. A year since he’s seen you, months since he’s thought about you like he did those first few weeks, vivid dreams like he was back in the cabin all over again. It all rushes back in an instant and you can see it in the trading gaze you share, your breath shallowing, slightly turning away to continue the task at hand, organizing the books in neat piles. Joel looks on the brink of saying something again before a young girl, bright and shining smile and ringlet curls that frame her face perfectly, bouncing at her shoulders as she comes to stand beside Joel.

Sarah. This was Sarah.

“Dad, come on,” She yanks at his wrist, fingers curling around his forearm, “I need you to carry the books I wanna buy.”

“O—okay, babygirl.” He nods, a responding touch as he placates her impatience and nods, “Let’s go.”

And when he leaves, even if it was just briefly, you have a moment to breathe. It stings, eyes squeezing closed as you force away the threat of burning tears, staring out at busy street to force yourself to think about anything but Joel—you were finally at a place where things felt normal, like you hadn’t been reeling over him for most of this time.

The roles were switched, where Joel should’ve been the one still caught up with the idea you, he was moved on and focused on other things—but you, it was the most intense heartache you’ve ever felt seeing him again.

He’s so much softer around her—a color to him that radiates around him. He hasn’t changed in the sense that he mostly appears the same. Same ridiculous flannel over a plain shirt, straight-cut jeans over heavy boots, for work or not. That same watch snug around his wrist, hair slightly grown out and curling at the ends, facial hair in full force.

It was like no time had passed.

But clearly, so much had.

Eventually you wrap up, hiding behind the counter again as you store the empty box away, tapping mindlessly at the surface of the counter as you try not to look his way and fail, catching his gaze everytime. He was looking at you too and he couldn’t stop—looking helpless as he hauled a mountain of books in his arm, pulled along by the younger girl.

Time passes slow, feeling torturous until Joel and Sarah finally make their way to the front counter, a forced smile flashing across your face that no one would be able to see through—it was perfected for times like these, feeling so out of your body that you worked on auto-pilot, scanning the books with a few off-hand compliments of how much you loved a certain one or if you enjoyed it, earning an innocent giggle from Sarah.

Joel smiles subtly, a hand on Sarah’s shoulder as he squeezes.

You note it, glancing up at Joel kindly.

He was happier, so much happier than you met him a year ago. And you had a good idea why.

You read out the total and Sarah hands over a wad of cash that you sift through, gathering her change and carefully placing her books in the paper bag, listening to Joel and Sarah’s idle conversation.

“Oh, can we stop at the coffee shop next door that you like to go to?” Sarah asks, “Please? Last stop, I promise.”

It hurts, the instant it leaves her mouth you feel the way Joel locks his eyes on you.

He’s been there, right under your nose this entire time.

How long? How long had this been going on? Before? After?

The coincidence of Joel being the one in that cabinet seemed insignificant then, but not now.

“Yeah—yeah, uh—can you wait in the truck for me?” He asks, praying she doesn’t ask any more questions. “I’m gonna check if they have somethin’ real quick.”

Sarah eyes him weirdly, glancing at you briefly before she shrugs. “Okay.”

Joel watches her leave, waits until she’s in the truck and out of sight before he speaks.

“I didn’t know.” Joel says immediately, “I swear—god, if I would’ve just—”

“Hey,” You stop him, placing a hand against his palm that is pressed flat against the counter, “you’re fine. It’s okay.”

Were you okay? No.

Working so hard to get him out of your mind was all for naught now, his palm turning face up to curl around your own briefly, his eyes flicking up slightly.

“I gotta go or she’s gonna bite my head off,” He tells you, but is quickly reaching for something in his back pocket.

His phone, which he swiftly slides across the table.

Is he asking for your number? Duh, of course he is.

“Just—in case you need anything.” Joel offers lamely, but you take it. “I—I thought you said you lived in the city?”

“I do,” You punch your number in quickly, without hesitation, “doesn’t mean I work there too.”

Fair point.

He wants to talk. You can see it on his face.

But, not here. Not like this.

He swipes his phone back, pocketing it with his free hand. And he nearly slips his hand from your own before you’re gripping him tight, holding him prisoner under your gaze.

“I’m free,” You tell him quickly, “L-later, after seven. Just—just text me, okay?”

The please felt too strong, so you restrain it in your mind.

A year—an entire fucking year. Wasted. There were so many questions you had, so many things you wanted answered. But, more importantly, you just wanted Joel.

Joel in whatever form he could offer, even if that was just a few minutes of his time after your shift, just for closure. Closure was all you needed to get over him.

“Got it, darlin.” He nods, pulling his hand from your grip gently. “I’ll be seein’ you.”

At least this time it was true.

Joel’s never been so thankful for Tommy in his life, cancelling his plans at the drop of hat for Sarah—which, given that it was his favorite and only niece, it was never an issue.

Joel didn’t like the idea of leaving her alone, even at her age, and having Tommy around offered some peace of mind—but it also led to a line of questioning Joel wasn’t ready to answer.

“Got a hot date then?” Tommy jokes when he shows up at his front door later that evening, “Who is it?”

Joel closes the door with a silent click as he ignores his brother, walking back into the kitchen to pocket his car keys and sending a quick text to your number.

Joel: Now a good time?

You: I’m closing but I’ll be off in the next half hour.

Joel: Okay.

He was leaving already anyways, his mind itching for answers to lingering questions and the urge to be near you again after so long—his once clear head now filled with the thought of you, distant memories now vivid scenes playing in his head.

“Give me a couple hours,” Joel tells him, “that’s it—Sarah’s in her room, doubt she’ll come out for the rest of the night.”

Tommy raises an eyebrow in question, searching in the fridge for a beer he won’t find—it was a bad habit he was trying to break himself, so he settles on a can of soda and taps the top of the aluminum can before opening it.

“Some kind of project—I don’t know,” He didn’t try to understand anymore, Sarah was always working on something and Joel didn’t need to know everything, so he let it be, “just two hours, alright?”

“Got it, brother.” He tips the can gently in a way of saying get the fuck on already and leave, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

As if there was anything Tommy wouldn’t.

Joel rolls his eyes and leaves without another word.

When he pulls up around the back of the line of shops, the lights are already off in the surrounding businesses and he can spot a shadow by the backdoor, fumbling with a doorknob. He rolls down his window so you can see his face, like you might’ve forgotten the truck he drove—the same hunk of metal he brought with him then.

When you turn, you spot him with a smile. You hold up a finger in wait as you toss you belongings in your car, quickly locking the vehicle and pocketing your own keys into your jacket as you made your way to his truck, brimming with anxiety and uncertainty as you climbed inside, welcomed by the warmth of the air coming from the car vents, settling in as comfortably as you could.

It was exactly the same, aside from a small picture of Joel and Sarah that hung around the rearview mirror—it looked new, it had to be. You smile again, unsure and awkward.

“So, uh—”

“I didn’t know.” Joel quickly interrupts, easing the curiousness you had around the one question you were terrified to ask.

Had he known the entire time? Had he just been avoiding you until he couldn’t anymore? It seemed unlikely, but the doubt slipped in regardless.

You nod slowly, squeezing your hands together, the cold still prickling your skin uncomfortably.

Joel notices, turning in his seat to reach toward the back, pulling out a spare blanket he kept in the back for no particular reason other than just to have it—but suddenly he’s eternally thankful that it’s there.

“Thank you, Joel.” You tell him, draping it over your crossed legs.

He’s missed the way you say his name so gently, like he wasn’t the monster he constantly viewed himself as.

“Do you wanna go somewhere?” Joel asks softly, hand gripping the steering wheel firmly, the other resting relaxed against his thigh.

“Uh, sure—I don’t really feel like going anywhere public, if that’s okay.” You tell him honestly, “I’ve been around people all day and I just need a minute.”

Joel understands, “I got the perfect spot for that, darlin’.”

And for a moment, you’re shifted back to before, the gentle smile he throws your way like a sudden flash of the Joel you’re familiar with.

Joel found the spot by accident, really. Years ago. It was on the outskirts of the neighborhood he lived in, a small cutoff near a flock of trees that led out to a larger opening and a small cliff—only a few feet of a drop off, but it granted a nice view of the city and businesses that lined the surrounding neighborhoods. And luckily, on a night like tonight with no glow of the moon to cast down, they were nearly invisible from where Joel had parked under a hanging tree, turning his truck off with finality as they were soon shrouded in darkness and silence, only the luminescence from the nearby streetlights allowing some type of visibility.

“So, how has your holiday been? With Sarah and all?”

You knew it was his turn this year, he’d explained that much. You felt terrible for pulling him away from her, even if it was just for a brief, selfish moment.

Joel laughs quietly, fumbling with his keys in his hands.

“Yeah, about that—” Joel doesn’t see why he needs to make up an excuse or be vague, considering how much you knew then and how much you know now, so he tells you, “she’s been with me since around the end of summer, not full time but mostly—to answer your question though, it’s been good.”

“O-Oh, and that’s…good, too. I’m hoping?” You ask hesitantly.

“Her mom was tryin’ to move without lettin’ me know—Sarah told me because she was scared. It was a long process but we eventually worked out an agreement with stipulations. Regardless, I’m happy with how things are now. Her mom was never around much for her anyways—like she was more of a chore to her than anything.”

“You deserve her, Joel. Sarah. I think she’s good for you, being around and stuff.” You tell him, despite how much you didn’t know or understand. He seemed lighter, happier, less burdened by his own thoughts.

“Thanks,” He says softly, “—and you, how have you been?”

He drops his keys in the cupholder and turns more toward you, knee hiked up slightly onto the seat—mimicking his actions you move too, feeling like you were back on the couch in the cabin, amped up and ready to talk for hours about nothing and everything.

“I’ve been okay,” You pull at the sleeve of your jacket, running your finger along the pattern of your sleeve, the bumps in the stitching, “I spent Christmas Eve with my parents, if that’s any indication.”

Joel smiles wider than, knowing you listened and took his advice.

He was lucky to have a second chance—sometimes that’s all anyone needed.

“I missed you—” You utter quietly, overwhelmed with the feelings as you look away, eyes turned downwards and stinging with tears that you couldn’t stop from flowing, blinking them away and wiping at the even quicker, “fuck, I’m sorry.”

Joel has an arm open to you silently when you look up, no pestering or ordering you around, allowing you to make the choose to seek comfort from him if you felt comfortable with it, knowing that a year without someone was a long time—and even longer when you had no inclination of ever seeing that person again.

But really, there was no way you would have been able to avoid each other any longer.

This had to mean something.

You scoot into his arms, adjusting the blanket over the both of you and crying quietly, the low hum of the wind picking up outside of the truck causing the cab to sway slightly. Joel squeezes you gently, hand tucked and curled around your bicep.

“It took me months to stop thinking about you,” You admit, “I tried—so hard, nothing worked. And then the one day that I don’t have a moment to stop and let my mind think, you walked in. What the fuck does that mean, Joel?”

Joel wipes your tears wordlessly, letting the emotion flow through you, feeling a rush of them all at once. He had learned to bury his own, keeping that steely gaze as he tried to remain steady for you, like an anchor.

“You know–Sarah asked about you a few weeks ago,” Joel tells you suddenly, pulling your gaze up to him in subtle shock, “not—not like that. She doesn’t know about you, but she asked about that picture, about who took it. I didn’t even think about that at the time, but she’s so damn intuitive.”

“What did you say?”

“I told her what she should hear,” Joel explains, “That I had a friend there—’course she knew it wasn’t just that. But, she’s young. She doesn’t need to know about any of that.”

You nod quietly and Joel sighs, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I just—I feel guilty for being so caught up in all of the shit going on in my life that I haven’t thought about you in so long. But, then I saw you today and it’s like my brain can’t focus on anything else. And I know if I let this go it would bother me more.”

“So, you need closure?” You ask hesitantly, wondering if that was the purpose of this.

And you could accept that. You would have to, no matter how much it hurt to do.

Joel’s brow furrows in frustration, “No—no, that’s not even—”

Joel sighs again, heavily through his nose.

“Darlin’, I don’t know what I want anymore.”

You stare up at him sadly, chewing at the inside of your bottom lip as he looks down at you too, looking just as distraught.

He does know one thing he wants, but he’s not sure in what capacity he was allowed to have it—after all, you did say that he and you would never work in the real world.

Those words were more apparent than ever, Joel feeling forced to hide you. He didn’t want that, he couldn’t live like that. But, here he was—staring you down with nothing else on his mind other than the urge to kiss you, consume you, and keep you here with him for as long as he could.

He didn’t want to let you go again.

You need him to kiss you, hoping that the desperation in your eyes comes across to him, feeds him the signs he’s so desperately seeking and that you could pretend this could work for a brief time.

Neither of you ask, instead you both move at the same time. Lips connecting in a gentle kiss that is riddled with hesitancy, Joel’s hand slowly coming up to cup your cheek. The press of soft flesh against each other, inhaling sharply as you parted briefly before returning the kiss more forcefully, leaving Joel desperate to have you around him. He’s pulling at your arm, hoping that his silent conveyance of urgency will help.

You hike your leg over his, spreading yourself out over his lap easily, lips never disconnecting, too caught up in the moment to allow for even the smallest breath of air, kisses traded in a messy battle as Joel squeezes and grabs, like he’s trying to memorize you again, leaving no part of you untouched.

“What do you want, Joel?” You ask through a slew of kisses, finally able to fist his shirt and push him away a few inches, catching his lustful gaze, pupils dilated.

“Baby—I,” He chuckles, a sad noise that doesn’t come across as humorous, your head cradled between his hands, thumbs rubbing at the underside of your jaw, “I’m used to wanting things I can’t have. This ain’t new to me.”

You don’t speak, feeling he has more to say as he kisses you once more, a slow and passionate press of your lips before he parts again, briefly.

“My luck has changed. I’m aware. And everything in me is tellin’ me to push it and hope that I won’t have to let you go again, but that isn’t up to me.”

“There’s things you can’t separate yourself from, you know that.” You tell him, “And if you tie yourself to me, the things people will say about you—that they’ll say about me. You can’t be okay with that, can you?”

“I don’t care about them or any of that,” Joel tells you honestly, “the only thing I care about is the people in my life—baby, I want you in my life. Doesn’t matter how. But, if we cut ties here, tonight. I can’t do this anymore. I’m done. I worked so hard to stop thinking about you and I can throw that away for some half-assed closure.”

Sex. He meant sex, knowing you both were already halfway to the point of thinking it.

“I just—how do we know if this is real?” You question him.

It’s a valid thing to worry about, knowing how different things are on the outside, not miles away in a cabin that was only accessible to the both of you.

“I can show you, if you give this a chance.” Joel counters—and you try to search his face for any sign of hesitancy or uncertainness about you, but all it bleeds is adoration.

Something akin to love but not quite.

“How about a date first?” You ask softly.

Joel laughs heartily now, letting you slump against him as your foreheads pressed together.

“Alright, a date first.” Joel agrees.

“Think you can handle that?” You tease.

“Baby, I can handle you just fine.”

It isn’t what you’re asking, but the answer makes your heart thump rapidly all the same. You weren’t sure where this would lead, but you were willing to take that risk for Joel.

Thank you for anyone who has stuck with this all the way through with my weekly posting or anyone who is binge-reading this all at once and has finally reached this chapter! I appreciate you, thank you (again), and please always feel free to come yell at me!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x fem!reader #pedro pascal characters #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fic #my writing #MMITW #pedrostories

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orchidyoonkook · 1 year

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To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 1

Title: Assembly’s and Introductions

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Mild Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: There’s a new kid at your prestigious university, he’s tall, tattooed and muscular, and oh yeah, he’s the Prince.

Warnings: PG13, mild swearing, a general ‘lets get the ball rolling’ first chapter

Word Count: 5410

Release Date: January 26, 2023, 12:40PM

A/N 1: I’ve been working on this since September 2022, got 80K in, and have accidentally taken an extended break from Dec 1st until now. I need a kick in the pants to continue writing it so here’s the first chapter. I hope you enjoy as I have read this about 400 times and I’m sick of editing it.

A/N 1.5: it’s pronounced ‘Nehl” not “Neal”

“Come on, come ooooon!!” Yuri says as she drags you by one arm down the corridor, the other filled with books and study notes. You’re being dragged from your mid morning study session and she's starting to stretch your favourite sweater from how hard she’s pulling.

Slipping from her grasp to save it from any permanent damage, Yuri uses her new freedom to take the lead.

“Not everyone cares as much about this as you do,” you say, rolling your eyes. “I get you’re here because your parents put you here but I worked for it. I can’t just abandon my study plans for some guy,” voice echoing in the corridor as you succeed in keeping up with her quick pace.

Yuri mocks your words in gibberish, matching your tone, just more nasally.

She’s heard this hundreds of times since becoming your best friend in first year after being assigned your roommate. She may force you to go to places and parties you don’t find nearly as important as she does, but you also know she’s the only reason you’ve had any fun since starting university.

That doesn’t deter you though.

“I’m serious,” you insist, refusing to back down.

A look you know well flashes over her face. One that’s a mixture of absurdity and exhaustion— specifically at you.

“You know, sometimes I can’t even believe we’re friends. He’s not just some guy YN,” she looks over her shoulder to make eye contact. “He's the prince.”

Ah yes, the prince.

How could you be so foolish?

The fancy name given to the poor bastard who doesn’t get to decide his future—or work for it for that matter. Just has it handed to him because he was born at the right place, right time.

The prince who’ll be king to the biggest nation in the west one day.

The prince everyone freaks out over.

Sure, he’s cute enough, and will eventually have lots of money and power, because those are so important for someone like him.

But what’s money and power if you’re miserable or an asshole or you don’t know what to do with it? What’s money and power for someone who’s never known poverty and helplessness?

The title of Prince means nothing if you don’t earn it. Means nothing if you don’t know how to use it properly.

Who knows if this one does? So why should you particularly care?

Unfortunately, most people can’t get past the ‘young, handsome, future king of the Western Shores, hunk-a-hunk of dreamy’—blah, blah, blah, the media splatters over every magazine cover they possibly can, earning the prince a hefty social following of adoring, screaming—slightly brain dead if you had any say about it— ‘followers’ aka fans.

And Yuri, like every other girl on campus, is one of them. Minus the brain dead and screaming.

Well…Sort of minus the screaming.

She has screamed, in the past at least. So maybe just minus the brain dead part…

Anyways, she’s grabbing your wrist and you sigh, wringing yourself free of her near iron grip, again. But you can’t blame her.

Yuri’s focused on one thing, and one thing only.

And it’s beginning in 15 minutes.

“Plus I want good seats!”

You scoff.

“He’s just a person, Yuri. I get he’s got an important title and fancy job, but that’s all that separates him from us.”

She glares at you as you reach the courtyard of your school.

Trees surround the perimeter in evenly placed lines, a large running fountain at its center. There’s plenty of open grass space the students use to study, picnic or throw a ball around on. And its cobblestone walkways are currently covered in rows upon rows of filled up seats.

Most of those filled seats are in the middle though, which surprises you. You would’ve thought girls would be lining up at the front row to see their prince.

“Yeah, just the title and fancy job,” Yuri says, taking her turn to scoff and opens her hand to count on her fingers. “Let's not count the fact that he’s insanely hot—have you seen his body? His face? Or what of the land he’ll inherit on top of the land he already owns? And money! Can’t forget that. Or clothes. Not enough? I can keep going,” she switches to her other hand. “How about control over the largest kingdom in The West? They don't call him ‘Prince of the Western Shores’ for nothing, Sweets. Also the mass of adoring fans, security and advisors following his every move, nice cars, fancy vacation houses…should I keep going?”

You’re pretty sure she only stopped because she ran out of fingers and you don’t deign her with a reply. Yuri seems content to have made her point and she did.

But you’d never admit that to her. Instead you keep walking, taking in the sights around you.

Your school is The Royal Academy of Business and Fine Arts. Anyone can study here if they have the cash, or the brains, though one method is much more abused than the other.

It’s one of the most prestigious schools in the world because it’s where nearly every royal on this half of the continent goes to university. Hence the “Royal'' in the title.

Ladys, lords, dukes, duchesses, princesses and yes, princes all go here—are most of your classmates, actually. But there is only one prince everyone cares about. The one who, in the next few short years, will not only be at your school for whatever it is his father deems appropriate for him to study in his post secondary education, but the one who is also first in line and heir to the biggest kingdom in The West—if it hadn’t been mentioned before.

His Royal Highness, Prince Jeon Jungkook.

Okay… look.

It’s not that you don’t like him, he hasn’t done anything to make you hate him, and you’re sure he’s a decent guy once you get to know him.

It’s just that you don’t really feel any type of way about him, positive or negative. And that confuses so many people around you.

Which in turn, confuses you.

Most people seem to think he’s some sort of god sent angel carved by the hands of whoever created the universe. Fawning over him and thinking he can do no wrong. But what they all fail to see is that he’s just like them.

Got a bit more of a leg up on life than most, sure, but still human. Like you, or Yuri.

He eats and showers and uses the bathroom. He gets a runny nose and puffy eyes when he’s sick. He has bad hair days and ties his own shoes… you think.

He’s just a regular guy with an irregular job. So no, you had no opinion on him other than disinterested neutrality.

But if you had to feel something? You guess you probably felt pity.

You worked your ass off in highschool to get where you are. You and your mom screamed until your voices were hoarse when you got your acceptance letter two and a half years ago. One of 25 scholarship students accepted on a full ride every year.

You were doing a major in fine arts and a minor business, wanting to milk your education for all it’s worth on their dime. Lucking out that your two areas of interest were not only at one school, but at one of the best schools in the world for both subjects.

You chose what you wanted for your life and you worked for it for years. And now you sit comfortably at the top of your class in both fine arts and business, not taking your opportunity for granted for a second.

Jungkook though? He’s expected to go here. Doesn’t have much of a choice about it, and he doesn’t have to work for it either.

A small part of you that has yet to mature envies him for how easy he has it, for the privileges he is given simply because of one six letter word in front of his name. That he didn’t have to put in 60 hour weeks and give up his teenage years just to prove he was good enough to be here.

He was born good enough.

But that’s a small part of you, and you can ignore it if you try hard enough.

The point is you felt pity because he’s probably never had to work for something a day in his life. He doesn’t know the satisfaction of working towards something, to not only succeed, but to be the best.

To earn what he has.

He won’t know what to do when real life hits him.

Yuri lets a baby scream loose as she spots her desired seats and yanks you out of your thought spiral.

The front of the courtyard is still relatively empty, middle still filling up faster than anything else.

“Yes! Score! First row, left side, that’s perfect! He'll definitely see us.”

She grabs your arm a third time and it’s an effort not to drop your books and groan at her.

Yuri’s like you in the sense where she is not royalty, but unlike you she—or should you say, her parents—are loaded.

Family business perks.

She’s here because she can be, because her family can afford to send her and make donations, not because she wants to be or because she worked for it.

But don’t misunderstand that, Yuri works hard. She just happens to party more than she studies most days. That and plan her future with a very rich and handsome guy who has yet to be determined.

You’d jokingly deemed her a royalty hunter after about an hour of meeting her for how badly she wanted to ‘marry up.’

“See you,” you correct, or has she forgotten about Nel, your boyfriend of 5 years? Your high school sweetheart and who is currently, much to your dismay, at school about 5000 miles away.

“I’m sure Cornelius wouldn’t be mad if the prince charms his girl just once, seeing as his royal highness can do that to most people just by breathing near them,” she quips. ”And even if he would get mad, Jungkook can just have him thrown in a dungeon for being overprotective and jealous.”

“The royal palace doesn’t have dungeons, but they do have a series of interrogation rooms on the third lower level,” you inform her. You did a project on the history and architecture of the royal palace in tenth grade—and Nel really wouldn’t care, he knows where he stands, just like you do.

“How do you just know that!”

Yuri didn’t know you in highschool and you used that to your advantage every single time you could, laughing bright and loud.

She starts dragging you down the walkway again, a habit of hers. Like she’s worried you’ll try to slip away if she isn’t forcing you where she wants you to be.

It’s a good instinct on her part.

You're nearly there, so you focus more on the trees just starting to turn colours overhead, casting slightly pigmented shadows on the ground. Fall is just starting to creep up on the heels of summer, the days of sunscreen and chlorine slowly being replaced by pumpkin spice and crisp apples.

She sits exactly where she wanted too, and you plop beside her, glad you’re wearing a light sweater and tights. They are just warm enough to keep the slight breeze from giving you chills, but also keep your legs from sticking to the plastic seats.

For such an expensive school to go to you’d think they’d have better assembly furniture.

You notice a news camera off in the distance and suddenly understand the empty front seats. No one wants to publicly embarrass themselves on national television from seeing the prince, rewindable and replayable, forever seared into the internet.

It’s times like these you’re happy you’ve never been one to get starstruck. They’re all just people, why be shocked or surprised when they exist near you?

Opening up your books on your lap, you figure you can kill the next ten minutes in a productive way, considering what happened to your original plans for the mid morning.

And as you do, you feel the seats around you begin to fill, not a single one empty by the time the event starts. Not even the ones up front.

A jerked movement catches your eyes and you see that two seats closer to the pedestal from Yuri is Adaline.

Great.

Adaline Dupree is basically a princess from the Eastern Shores. ‘Basically’ because she’s not, but she certainly acts like she is. A fake princess, an even bigger royalty hunter than your best friend and your not so secret arch nemesis.

She’s in your fine arts classes—all of them, unfortunately—her proper title being ‘Duchess of…’ some province you never bothered to learn the name of, and she’s one of the most well known people on campus.

Tall, with beautiful blonde hair, hazel eyes, freckles, a slim figure and quite the socialite. You’re surprised she went into fine arts and not modeling. She’s got the ego part of the job down pat.

Good for her for being pretty. But anyone could be beautiful on the outside with enough money and a surgeon. That’s not why you considered her your nemesis, you don’t give a shit about any of that.

She was your nemesis in the academic world. Because not only was she beautiful, she was also brilliant at her craft.

Which happened to also be your craft, and it pissed you off to no end.

Where you were first, she was second and where she was first, you were second. Always neck in neck with one another, always trying to one up each other.

You only considered yourself better than her because unlike her, you hoped at least, Adaline was a complete and total bitch. She took what she wanted without remorse and she wasn’t above sabotage to get it.

You learned that the hard way in your first year. And you’ve always wondered if that was her privileged upbringing speaking or if she’s just like that naturally, so unused to not getting what she wanted that she’d take it.

Therefore, it is of absolutely no shock to you that she’s sitting as close as she possibly can to where the prince will be standing. Directly in front of the pedestal at the base of the fountain in the center of the courtyard.

A door opens to your right followed by a couple screams, and you can only assume the man of the hour has arrived. A red camera light flicks on in your peripheral vision and you take that as your confirmation and cue to close your books.

The Dean of Schools, a few advisor looking people, a good handful of terrifyingly large security guards, and a head of black hair you conclude to be the prince all make their way towards their destination.

A smirk graces your face at all the girls batting eyelashes or screaming his name, as if that would get his attention. You’re about to mention that exact thought to Yuri, but you notice her eyelashes looking awfully similar to those around you and can’t help failing to stifle a laugh.

She catches it. “What?”

“Nothing,” you say. “You might just want to pick your jaw up off the ground.”

Her response gets cut off when a voice comes over the speakers.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for such a warm welcome,” says the Dean, calm and assured. She knew exactly the welcome they'd receive. “I’ll keep my introduction short. Today, I present to you not only the newest addition to The Royal Academy of Business and Fine Arts, but the future King of our great nation. He has requested to formally address the student body before he starts classes this fall semester, so without further adieu: His Royal Highness, Prince Jeon Jungkook.”

Riigghht. Did you mention he was the prince of the country you’re living in?

Well…he is.

The crowd soars in volume once more, a couple “I love you’s” thrown in for good measure as the prince steps up and you zone out.

From your angle, you can see his whole body from the side, and that even though he’s holding cue cards, he doesn’t use them, placing them face down on the pedestal.

His dark hair is swept back in a suave styling and he’s wearing a simple navy long sleeve button up, black dress pants and matching leather shoes.

The outfit makes him look ever so princely and very much not like a student. More like one of the faculty.

However, what you don’t expect are the small patches of ink on his arm peeking out of his right sleeve. Or just how tight the clothes he wears are on his apparently very muscular form.

You remember Yuri’s words from earlier, only now registering. You knew he had muscles, no one ever shut up about them. But seeing them in person… wow.

You kind of want to sketch him—for anatomy practice, of course.

The prince begins his address to the crowd and an eerie silence replaces the roars from earlier. You take a quick look around and notice that not one person isn’t completely transfixed on him. Even the dean can’t keep her eyes off him.

You give him credit for not balking under the intense gazes of literally everyone. You know you sure as hell would have, never being one to like being the center of attention. At least, not like this.

You clue into his speech as you look back at him. He’s talking about how he found himself as a teenager thinking of what he wanted his future to look like and what he wanted to do with his schooling, which is not only why he took a couple years to explore the continent before enrolling, but why he will be doing a major and a minor at the school.

One for his career, and one for his heart.

You won’t admit to yourself that the sentiment very closely resonates with you.

He continues.

“All that said, I asked to address you all today for one very simple reason, being that, for my time here at the academy, I wish to be treated like any other student. I am not unaware of my celebrity and how I am seen to the outside world. It is not lost on me my place in the world and who I am to become. I know for some that it may be… difficult to see me for anything other than who I am, and this is why I ask you humbly, just for the short while that I’m here, you all treat me no differently than you already do one another,” he pauses for a moment. “I extend my request most deeply to those who will be studying alongside me in my business administration major and photography minor, as I don’t want it to affect my studies.”

Yuri slaps her hand down onto your leg causing you to jerk forward and you clamor to not drop any of your books. Business administration is her major. Her parents want her to take over the family biz after school.

That was probably why she partied so much. Living as much as she can before being thrust into a job she doesn’t want for the rest of her life.

Pity creeps back up your throat at the thought.

Jungkook notices your jerking movement, but only for a second. His eyes meet yours and you hope yours convey ‘sorry for interrupting’.

You may not care about him, but just like him you are not unaware of his status in the world outside the walls of your school.

Yuri, of course, thinks he’s looking at her and not only does her grip on your leg tighten to the point of circulation cut off, she returns to her earlier routine of batting her eyelashes.

You roll your eyes away from her sight, but unbeknownst to you, well within the gaze of Jungkook.

He suppresses a smile at your response to your friend's clear attempts to gain his attention.

You, on the other hand, seem indifferent to him. He has the entire student body watching his every move with hawk-like precision, enraptured. Normal, for him.

But you?

You just seem to… not care. Like he wasn’t anyone special. Like the word in front of his name meant nothing.

And if it wasn't the most freeing feeling he’s felt in a long time.

“Thank you so much for your time, and I’ll see you all around campus,” he finishes before stepping down, security wrapping around him again until he’s barely visible. The dean pops up to conclude the gathering but you aren’t paying attention anymore, too busy trying to peel Yuri’s hand off your thigh.

“Yuri, retract the claws please!” you whisper-yell to your friend. And she does in fact, retract instantly.

“Shit, sorry. My brain is running a million miles a minute,” she says as she pinches herself, shaking her head and smiling. “I’m three years ahead of him in his major. His major YN! But he’s still older than us, which is so hot. I'm so glad he did that tour in the east and whatever else that kept him back for a couple years, it makes this whole situation even better,” you start to worry at the look in her eye as she continues.

“What if he needs a tutor? What if I become his tutor, and we fall in love like a cliche romance movie. I could be the future queen. YN, this could actually happen for me. I could actually get the prince, it’s not some wild dream anymore. I could talk to him and he would talk back and this could happen.”

You can feel that she’ll just keep spiraling, nothing being able to stop her train of thought at this point, so you try your best to at least have her do her thinking in her head.

“Maybe! I wish you nothing but luck!” And you mean it. You don’t think it will happen the way she does, but you never know. And you don’t want to give her false hope.

You’ve always been the realist to Yuri’s optimist.

With the assembly over, most of the crowd files out of the courtyard quickly, prior plans calling to them or classes starting soon.

Only a few stragglers are left behind. You and Yuri are two of them, as well as Adaline, and a couple more you don’t know.

Security starts to spread out and you watch as Jungkook makes his way to the people farthest from you, much to their delight.

It’s a group of guys, all of whom look muscular enough to be varsity athletes. Maybe Jungkook will want to do sports while he’s here. You know that he’s an accomplished rugby player, greatly to his fathers dismay, but to the pleasure of anyone who has about $10 and has access to magazines or wifi.

“Oh my god he’s making his way over. Do. Not. Move. I want him to come to us,” Yuri says, forcing you to stay in your spot. It would be fruitless to try anything anyway. Another lesson you learned the hard way in first year.

She starts fluffing her hair and asking you to check her teeth. You do. She’s in the clear.

Unfortunately, you two would most likely be the last people he greeted, so you had to watch as he made his way down the line of people.

He greets the guys with a handshake and a clap to the back, and the girls with a kiss to the top of the hand.

One thing you notice as he meets more and more people is that everyone still calls him ‘prince’ or ‘your highness.’

It’s automatic for them, they’re not even thinking twice about it, but it’s also completely besides the point of half of his whole speech. He wanted to be treated like everybody else.

It especially irked you when it was Adaline’s turn and she put on her most feminine, formal, and ridiculously overly flirty, “Hello, Prince Jungkook,” before curtseying, blasting her full facade of charm and courteousness.

Ever the dainty, prim and proper duchess, she’s all small laughs and less than subtle flirting, never impolite, and never speaking out of turn.

You wanted to gag, and you’re quite sure that’s exactly what your face conveyed. But Jungkook smiles wide for her, and is as kind to her as he was to everyone else prior. He even flirts back a little bit.

Yeah, you definitely want to gag. What a match those two would make.

But just as soon as he greets Adaline and her friend, he politely steps away and moves on to you and Yuri.

“Hello ladies, what might your names be?” he asks ever so formally.

You gently laugh at being called a lady and Yuri shoots you a look. Jungkook doesn’t appear to take offense though.

“Hello, your highness!” Yuri chirps in the most ‘I'm trying to flirt but trying to not sound like I’m flirting’ voice you’ve ever heard her use. “My name is Yuri Yeun, and I’m actually a business admin major too, just a few years ahead.”

Jungkook lifts her hand to his mouth, giving it a light kiss and she looks like she’s about to explode.

“It’s lovely to meet you Yuri, I’ll look forward to seeing you around the halls,” he says in the same tone he’s used for everyone else. He’s about to face you, but Yuri cuts in quickly.

“If you ever need any help with your studies, just let me know. I’d be happy to help you with anything you might need help with. Having already been through it, I may be able to give a students insight versus a professors.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for the future. Thank you for your generosity.” Again that same tone, you mentally dub it his ‘greeting the public like the ever so good royal I am’ voice.

He turns to you and extends his hand for yours.

You reach for it, twisting it so that instead of a hand turned upright to be kissed, it’s a regular handshake. If he wanted to be treated like anyone else here, you sure as hell were going to.

“I’m YN, it’s nice to meet you Jungkook.” At the mention of his name untitled, he pauses, eyes widening ever so slightly. It’s not a bad pause, just a surprised one. And by the looks of the small smile on his face, a good one.

Yuri's eyes, on the other hand, almost bug out of her skull at your informal greeting.

“Likewise,” he manages to get out, completely unlike his usually composed self.

You're the only one who hasn’t addressed him with his title, and it’s the most like him he’s ever felt.

Twice in one day—in one hour—you’ve managed to make him feel more human and more like himself than he ever has. With your distinct indifference to him of all things.

Jungkook decides then and there he’s very sure he wants more of it in his life.

He still hasn’t stopped shaking your hand, and you don’t know why that’s the only thing you can focus on. His hand is firm and calloused, the kind that can only be built over years of hard work.

Releasing you the second you think it, he looks as if he hadn’t realized he was still holding on too.

Quick to step back into his princely role, Jungkook says, “Pardon my forwardness, but I just have to say that the two of you are beautiful, and that it’s been lovely to meet you both.”

You swear you see Yuri’s soul ascend from her body at his words. “Thank you, Your Highness! That means so much coming from someone as well met as yourself,” she nearly fawns, and you roll your eyes out of her sight for the second time today.

And for the second time today, Jungkook does not let the gesture go unnoticed. How you hold no fear in showing how you feel in front of others, even those you’ve just met. As if it holds no consequence.

It doesn’t for you, he realizes.

You can freely show how you feel without worry of anyone over-analyzing your every facial tic. No fear that a slight misuse of a lip quirk or eyebrow raise could give away national secrets or offend a visiting diplomat.

He envies you for it. For having that freedom he so rarely does.

“You’re most welcome, Yuri. I’m glad you hold my opinion in such high regard.” He flashes her that well practiced bright smile and you already know what she won’t be shutting up about it anytime soon.

“I’ve always been told I have my fathers bone structure but my mothers beauty. I’ll be sure to let them know their Prince thinks the combination is worth complimenting,” you respond, not braggadocious or sarcastic in the slightest.

You know it would make your mom so proud to hear the future king found you pretty, even if you knew the compliment was given to every girl here.

Your father wasn’t in the picture, but that didn’t matter and the prince didn’t need to know.

“I hope they won’t mind a stranger's compliment on their daughter then,” Jungkook says, ducking his head slightly and giving you a smaller smile.

This one felt genuine, like he wanted to hold it back but couldn’t. So you return a small one of your own, to let him know this was an even exchange. You may not feel any type of way about the prince, but you were raised to be kind.

“Any praise for their daughter from the future King would be welcomed any day, I’m sure,” Yuri cuts back in, killing his smile along with it.

You’re sad to see it go.

“I’m relieved to hear it,” he responds, princely public persona back on. Stupid flashy smile back on. “What will you two be heading off to do now?”

“What I wanted to be doing for the last half hour in the first place before being hauled down here by this one,” you point a thumb at Yuri. “Finishing my study hour at the library,” you add quickly, before Yuri can get out her answer. You almost wish you hadn't because the hand that had your thigh in a death grip earlier now only somewhat playfully swats your shoulder.

“YN!”

“What!? I’m just being honest. He wants to be treated like anyone else right? That comes with people being honest to you instead of glazing over their answers with pretty little white lies to appease you.”

Yuri looks ready to rip you a new one, but she’s cut off again before she can open her mouth. This time by the prince.

“No, no it’s okay,” Jungkook says before she can swat you again. She stops mid swing at his words, eyes as wide as saucers at being stopped. “YN’s right, I appreciate the honesty, and I apologize for the interruption. I hope your studies will not be too greatly affected because of it.”

“Guess we’ll find out during midterm season,” you say with a smirk that turns into a genuine smile as you see Jungkook look panicked, like he actually thinks he messed up your education by disturbing your study session.

Relief quickly replaces the panic when he sees your smile and realises it was a joke.

Being treated like a regular person also meant being joked with at their expense, and he takes it in stride as his small smile from earlier makes a comeback.

“Well I have class in half an hour,” Yuri says, finally answering his question, “So probably grabbing a coffee from the cafe near the biz-admin building… I could show you if you want?”

“That sounds great actually, I’m still trying to figure out where everything is.”

“Great! Let’s go.”

Jungkook, ever the gentleman, lifts an arm for her to take and you watch them walk off, Yuri absolutely beaming as she glances back at you. You give her a thumbs up before collecting your books and heading back in the direction of the library.

Chapter Two: Unknown Numbers and Sharp Tongues

A/N 2: and so it begins.

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