#ANYWAYS SORRY FOR THE SILENCE AND NOT WARNING BEFORE DISAPPEARING | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

soaps-mohawk · 1 year ago

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 7 : Sweet Strawberry

Summary: You're not a soldier, you're just an omega. You shouldn't have to remind them of that, yet you find yourself needing to. Price makes it up to you in the best way possible.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, language, angst, panic, fluff, suggestive content, terrible flirting

A/N: Not entirely happy with it but it's done and I can move on from this one. I struggled so much with this chapter omg. Also, I just wanted to make it clear that I am not from the UK, I've never been to the UK, I'm simply going off of prior knowledge and what Google can tell me. So, if there's any inaccuracies, I am so sorry.

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You’re expecting the knock when it comes. You’d been standing in front of your door for almost five minutes, and you get it open almost before he’s finished, hand still raised. He gives no sign that betrays his surprise, if he feels any at all, instead he simply looks you over before turning on his heel and marching towards the door.

You close your door behind you, slipping down the hallway after him. It’s raining again, though you had prepared for that, flipping the hood of your jacket up as you hurry after Ghost. He threatens to disappear in the darkness of morning, slipping between the street lamps like a specter. It’s not often you get to see the true danger in them, the threats that they pose, the things that make them good at their job. You can imagine how many on his opposing side have been caught unawares by the way he seems to flow with the darkness around him.

You are significantly less graceful and quiet, feet slapping the wet pavement as you speed walk to keep up with the giant alpha. You can almost imagine the look on his face as you plod along behind him. If your lives depended on your silence at this moment, well, it wouldn’t entirely have been your fault. If he didn’t walk so fucking fast...

He’s at least courteous enough to hold the door open for you, though perhaps that was simply something that was deeply ingrained in him. Manners that become unconscious practice, even when you despise the person you’re with. He leads you down the hall towards the practice room again, unlocking it and flipping on the lights. He empties his pockets and removes his shoes and sweatshirt, before moving to one of the punching bags.

You can already predict what your lesson today will entail. Your knuckles have almost completely healed since your little fit a week ago. You quickly strip off your jacket and toe off your wet shoes, moving to join him without having to be told.

“Do you know how to wrap your hands?” He asks, holding out two rolls of hand wraps.

“No.” You shake your head. It’s not entirely true. They had shown you once while you were with the CIA, but that had been weeks ago and you’re sure you’ve forgotten the right way to do it. Even if you tried, he’d likely sigh and do it himself anyway.

He lets out a breath, pocketing one of the wraps before grabbing your right wrist. His hands are just as rough as you remember them being the day you punched Corporal Allen, calluses dragging against your skin as he meticulously wraps the fabric around your fingers. You watch him, trying to memorize how to do it in hopes that maybe, eventually, you’ll surprise him and manage it yourself.

He finishes your hands quickly before wrapping his own. You flex your hands, trying to get used to the feeling of the wraps. They’re not too tight, shockingly. You had half expected him to choke your fingers until they’re purple just because. But, you also know Price will be looking for any mark or sign of injury as soon as he sees you at breakfast. The thought of him laying into Ghost for even a bruise as your stomach twisting, and not in a bad way.

“Make a fist.” Ghost says, crossing his arms as he stands in front of you.

You stare at his bulging muscles for a second too long, quickly curling your fingers as your face warms.

He takes hold of your hand, inspecting your fist. “Not bad.”

“I did grow up with brothers.” You murmur.

“Did they ever hit you?” He asks as he turns you to face the boxing bag.

“Only playfully.” You say, missing the subtle edge to his voice. “Dad would have caved their heads in if they ever tried.”

You can’t see the way he’s staring at you as he stands slightly behind you, but you can feel his gaze as it lingers for just a second longer than you expected it to. You’re not sure if maybe he doesn’t believe you, or maybe he knows there’s more to the story. You’ve hardly spoken about your family since your arrival, but they seemed to accept the fact that they haven’t been your family for years now as a valid reason.

“Get into your fighting stance.” He finally says, moving around you as you take the stance you had perfected last training session. “Good.” He says, looking you over. “Now throw a punch at the bag.”

You squeeze your fists, imagining Corporal Allen’s face on the bag before you throw a punch, barely managing to move the bag.

“Punches like that are what will get you hurt.” Ghost says, extending your arm. “You can throw your weight, which is good. That’s why you were able to throw Allen off his feet. You’re asking for a broken arm, though. Keep your arm flat and facing downwards through the entire punch. Aim with the knuckles and twist your lower body for support.”

He throws a punch at the bag, the sound of his fist hitting it loud, and you watch the bag swing back and forth violently. He could probably punch through you if he wanted to. Your pitiful punch wouldn’t even stun him.

He stops the bag from swinging, having you throw repeated punches at it. He fixes your form and technique as you go, teaching you different kinds of punches. Your arms quickly get tired, and you know you’re going to be sore again. Maybe you should take up some weight lifting or something. You could ask Soap to help you.

You go until your arms feel like they're going to fall off, your shoulders burning. “I can't anymore.” You whine, breathing heavily from the exertion of throwing punches for 30 minutes.

“You have to learn to push through the pain.” He says, looming over you. “You think in a fight, everyone will just stop because your arms are tired? Or you're a little sore?”

He has a point.

You take half a step back as he invades your space, leaning down close to you. “If they're out for blood, they won't even stop even as you're bleeding out in front of them.” His eyes are dark, biting into you, speaking volumes of his knowledge and experience. You wonder how many times he's been in that situation, how many times he's had to fight quite literally for his life. He steps away from you, moving towards the center of the mat. “Come on. I'll teach you some combinations.”

You don't want to follow him. You want to curl up in a corner and nap for the next four hours. You don't doubt he'll find a way to force you, though, so you move to the center of the mat with a sigh.

He teaches you different combinations, working through them over and over. You're sloppy, mixing up which punch is which, which move means what. It only gets worse as you get more and more tired, but Ghost is relentless.

Finally after almost an hour and a half of training, he calls it. Your legs are shaking and you can barely lift your arms to unravel the wraps from around your hands. You sink onto the floor, laying out flat on the padding as you try to catch your breath.

“Come on.” Ghost says, lacing up his shoes. “You'll have time to shower before breakfast if we get back now.”

“Wait. Just gimme a minute.” You breathe, not even sure you have the willpower to get up from the floor, much less the muscle power.

He lets out a sigh before approaching you, bending down to slip his hands under your arms. “On your feet, soldier.”

He lifts you easily, far too easily. Your legs shake, nearly giving out as you're forced onto them. You pout, ignoring the ache in your bones as you're forced upright.

“‘M not a soldier.” You murmur.

“In here with me, you are. You want to learn to fight, you get treated just like everyone else I've taught.” He says, glowering down at you. “Now get your shoes on and let's go.”

Your brows pull into a frown, but you do as he says, slipping your shoes back on and your jacket. You had hoped perhaps he would have a little mercy, given your status and inexperience, but it seems you're not even being awarded that. You know part of it is his revenge for you invading his protective circle around Soap, for kissing Soap in front of him.

The frown doesn't leave your face as you follow him back to the barracks, having to almost run to keep up with him.

“You look tired.”

“I am. I had training with Ghost again this morning.”

“How is that going?”

“It's hard.” You admit, sinking back in your chair. “He's hard on me. He sees me as a soldier, not an omega.”

“Have you brought this up to him?” Dr. Keller asks, crossing her feet as she relaxes on the couch across from you.

You nod. “Yeah. He said I have to push through it, because if I wind up in a real fight, they won't go easy on me.”

“Well, I can’t say he’s wrong about that. But, that’s still no excuse.” Dr. Keller tilts her head at you. “You could bring it up to Captain Price. He is your pack alpha, and he’s also Lieutenant Riley’s. I don’t doubt he’d bring it up to him on your behalf.”

He would, but you don’t really want to stir the pot in that way. The last thing you need to do is become a tattle-tail. It’s quiet between you for a few moments, Dr. Keller shuffling her papers as you mark a clear end to that conversation.

“How did you do on your assignment? I see you’re wearing a different sweatshirt this morning.” She says, eyeing you.

You’re wearing Price’s sweatshirt, the one he gifted you. You’ve been wearing it almost every day, his scent still clinging to the fabric. Your face warms as she stares at you, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, but...I didn’t ask for this one. Price gave it to me after I told him about where my other one came from. I uh...I kissed Soap. And Gaz.”

“Oh?” Her brows raise, and she writes something down on the paper. Your face warms even more as you watch her pen move with every letter. You can only imagine what she’s putting down. “Is that something you wanted? I know we talked briefly about it last time.” She says.

You nod. “Yes. I did want it. I...I also...kneeled...with Price...Did a couple times actually...”

Dr. Keller’s mouth opens in surprise, her eyes shining as she looks at you. “You did? That’s huge! That’s an incredible development! Did you initiate, or did he?”

“I did.” You say bashfully, sinking back further into the chair. “Both times.”

Dr. Keller smiles at you, looking almost proud. “This is a big step in the right direction. How did it go? Were you able to relax?”

You nod. “Yeah. It was nice. He was...gentle. He did it right.”

“Good. How did you do coming down from it? I know it can be intense and difficult for some omegas.” She asks.

You shrug. “Fine. I felt it a bit the morning after, but it wasn’t too bad. I fell asleep on him both times.”

“Oh?” She lifts an eyebrow. “Did you stay with him?”

You shake your head. “No, Gaz took me to my room both times.”

“Good. That’s good practice, for when your heat comes. Shows how much trust they have in each other.”

You hadn’t really thought of that. There was a lot of trust involved in omega’s heats. Omegas have to trust their alphas to take care of them while they’re blind with insatiable need, but both alpha and omega have to trust a beta to keep them alive. Your heat will trigger Price’s rut and make him lose control for a while, and it will be up to Gaz to keep you both fed and hydrated. He’ll be the one to help you both afterwards as well.

“Have you started nesting yet?” Dr. Keller asks.

You shake your head. “No. Don’t feel any drive to either.”

Dr. Keller hums as she writes something down. “Well, it has only been two weeks. Though, perhaps if you can manage to ask for some things to make your space more comfortable, that might help ease you into it.”

You chew on your lip, tugging at the sleeves of your sweatshirt. You know she’s right. Until you’re comfortable and feel safe enough, you won’t feel the drive to nest. You’ll need to nest before your heat arrives. Otherwise, it’ll cause issues for both you and Price.

“When...when should I be worried?” You ask.

“Hmm...” Dr. Keller looks at her calendar. “If you’re not feeling any sort of drive to nest by our next appointment, then I’d say we may need to consider using some exercises to help jump start it.”

“Exercises?” You ask warily.

“All easy things.” She reassures you. “Things like scent introductions, tactile explorations, and some bonding exercises might be helpful as well.” She writes something down on a sticky note. “I’ll explain everything in detail and you’ll get to choose whether you want to do any of it or not. No one’s going to force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, alright?”

Tears prick your eyes at her words, and you furiously blink them back. It’s a little late for that kind of sentiment. Your presence here alone was thanks to a long line of people forcing you to do things you’re not comfortable with. It was easy to get lost in the excitement and the emotions of bonding with a pack, easy to forget that you would never have chosen this place had you ever been given the option to choose.

You would have gone far from the military, far from this kind of life. It’s your duty to bond with an alpha, but what if you don’t want to? What if it’s all a front, and as soon as you’re claimed the curtains rise and suddenly everything is different? What if Price isn’t as kind as you’ve come to believe him? Just one squeeze too tightly around the back of your neck while you’re kneeling and everything would change.

How easily he could take everything from you.

“You want to talk about what’s going on in your head right now?” Dr. Keller asks, breaking the silence between you two.

You hadn’t even noticed you’d been staring off into space, lost in your thoughts. Of course she knows something’s changed. She’s spent years learning the ins and outs of omegas and all the secrets you can only imagine. She’s probably just as in tune with subtle changes as the four well trained soldiers that make up your new pack. Maybe even more in tune with them.

You shake your head, keeping your gaze on the floor.

“Remember nothing shared in this room leaves this room. It’ll always only be between us.” She says softly.

You’re panicking. You can feel the pressure rising within you. You’re like a grenade and someone is about to pull the pin. You’re afraid you’ll spill everything to her, afraid you’ll let out things you’ve successfully kept buried for years and years. Things you’ve left behind, things you’ve had to move on from. Things you can’t afford to let out now.

“I’d like to be done now.” You silently curse the way your voice shakes.

Dr. Keller’s brows pull into a frown but she nods. “Okay.” She slips her papers into her notebook before standing. “Let me grab my keys.”

You stand as she moves to her desk, grabbing her keys from the drawer. She leads you from her office, thankfully staying quiet as you walk through the rain towards the barracks. You’re still panicking, the turmoil inside you probably projecting the sour scent across the entire courtyard but you don’t care. You can’t.

“Remember, if you ever need anything, I’m usually in my office.” Dr. Keller says as she drops you off at the door.

You feel guilty as you hurry to your room, shoes squeaking on the tile. You feel bad for cutting the appointment off early, you feel bad for feeling the way you do. Later you’ll be grateful for Dr. Keller respecting your boundaries and not pushing, for following through with her promise and letting you be in control of the appointment.

Right now you don’t care. Right now you can’t care. You’re too lost in your turmoil, the bitter scent of your distress seeping out from under the locked door.

“...can ye talk tae me, hen? Let me know yer alright?”

The soft voice coming through the closed door pulls you out from your burrow under the thin blanket. You blink blearily at your phone, trying to see the time. It’s just a little past the normal time you go to lunch with them. How long have they been knocking on the door?

“Come on, lass.” Soap’s voice comes through the door again. “I dinnae want tae have tae kick in the door.”

You force yourself out from under the blanket, pocketing your phone before quickly moving to your door. You throw it open, Soap’s eyes immediately scanning you as you rub tiredly at your eyes. You don’t doubt he’d kick in your door if he felt he had to.

“Sorry,” You yawn. “I was asleep.”

His eyebrows raise as he stares down at you. “Ye were asleep? Ye weren’t kidding about bein’ a heavy sleeper.” He leads you from the barracks, crossing the courtyard towards the mess.

“One time, when I was about two or three, my dad took us to some demonstration on base.” You say as you begin walking to the mess with him. “I fell asleep about halfway through and slept through a howitzer going off.”

Soap lets out a laugh so loud it echoes in the courtyard. “Ye slept through a howitzer?”

You nod. “Yup. My dad never let me live it down. I heard it all the time. ‘You’ll have to try hard to wake her, she slept through a howitzer once.’”

Soap chuckles, leading you into the mess. “Ye are a deep sleeper.”

You shrug. “I did say so. My phone will wake me up though. Alarms, calls.”

“I’ll keep tha’ in mind.” He says as he guides you through the line, making your tray for you.

You sit between Price and Gaz as usual, feeling a bit on edge still despite your nap after your appointment. You hadn’t gotten to sleep for very long, not nearly long enough to clear your head completely. You know they can tell, Gaz slowly shifting closer and closer to you, Price’s gaze flickering to you out of the corner of his eye every so often. Even Ghost’s eyes pass over you every so often as they sweep across the mess.

You wonder if he feels responsible.

You hope he does.

Soap walks you back to the barracks after lunch and you spend the afternoon burrowed under your blanket again. You’re exhausted and sore after a long morning of training and your appointment. You wish you could sink back into sleep, let the emotions pass without you having to feel them, but you’re too awake now. Too aware of them as they prickle in the back of your mind.

Dinner passes without incident, but you can’t ignore the feelings still stirring within you. You feel agitated and on edge, not even pacing your room helping you. You let out a breath before you put your slippers on, slipping out of your door. You make your way down the hallway, turning right instead of left like you would if you were heading for the rec room. The door is cracked open and you pause just before you reach it, suddenly feeling nervous. You shouldn’t really. There was no reason to be nervous, yet you can’t help the urge in the back of your mind to turn tail and race back down the hallway to the safety of your room.

“You can come in, unless you’d prefer standing in the hallway all evening.” A voice calls from inside the office.

Your face warms a bit at getting caught, but he could probably hear you coming down the hallway. He could probably smell you too.

You push open the door, slipping inside before closing it behind you. Price stares at you from his desk as you stand there, shifting nervously on your feet. You feel agitated, on edge still. You’re worked up, and you don’t quite know why.

“Everything alright?” Price asks, likely picking up on your nervous energy.

Yes. You want to say, but then you’d have to come up with a reason as to why you sought him out, why you feel so worked up. You could just kneel for him. It’s what you should do, let yourself be eased into a peaceful state of mind. Let him take care of you.

“I don’t know.”

The words are hardly more than a whisper, your voice trembling just as much as you are. Your chest feels tight, your breaths becoming shallow. You're not sure when he got up, when he even moved. His scent wraps around you, warmth encompassing your being as your face is pushed against his chest.

“I need you to breathe for me.” Price says, pressing your ear against his chest. You can hear the steady thump of his heart, the air flowing in and out of his lungs.

You close your eyes, trying to match your breaths to his. It's hard, your body fighting your attempt to regulate it. You close your eyes, focusing on the soft fabric of Price's shirt against your cheek, the warmth of his hand on your head as he keeps you pinned against his chest. It's not constricting or suffocating. It's grounding, keeping you from drowning in your own thoughts.

He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to as he holds you there, letting you calm down. You begin to slowly relax, your arms wrapping around his waist, fingers gripping the back of his shirt.

“Want to tell me what’s going on?” He murmurs, lips brushing the top of your head.

“I don’t know.” You whisper, still clinging to his shirt. “I’m just...I feel off. Ghost was being hard on me this morning and then I got upset during my appointment and I’ve just felt on edge all day and I can’t relax because I can’t get comfortable!”

Price tightens his grip around you just slightly. “What do you mean?”

You huff out a breath, squeezing your eyes closed so the tears don’t escape as the words leave you in a flood before you can stop them. “The blankets aren’t soft enough and the pillows are too thin and it’s too dark and I’m tired of smelling like bland soap!”

Price hums quietly, squeezing you gently as a tear slides down your cheek. “Then we should do something to fix that.”

“But I shouldn’t need it!” You cry, trying to push away from him, but he keeps you tight against his chest. “I’m supposed to be a good omega and adapt and learn to be comfortable where I am.”

“That might be what you were taught,” He says, letting you push away from his chest, but he wraps his hands around your arms, keeping you in front of him. “But things don’t have to be that way. We should have taken care of something like this sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t even think of it. You shouldn’t have had to ask for it.”

You blink up at him, genuinely surprised by his words. “I...what?”

“We all have our own little comforts that we keep. Soap sleeps with a stuffed bear. Don’t tell him I told you that.”

A small smile tugs at your lips at the mental image of Soap snuggling up with a teddy bear.

“You deserve some comfort too.” He says, squeezing your arms.

“But, it’s not...regulation.” You say.

“Doesn’t have to be.” He says. “You’re not a soldier. Even then, the only ones going in there are us. The only thing I can’t approve of is painting the walls. Unfortunately the prison grey has to stay.”

You can’t help but laugh, wiping the tear from your cheek. “I suppose that’s alright. Just...as long as it’s not as dark and maybe a soft blanket or something. That’s really all I need.”

He hums, staring down at you. You can’t quite figure out the look on his face, something shining in his eyes. “We’ll get it figured out.” He says, squeezing your arms again.

“Get some shoes on. We’re going on a trip.”

You look up from your book, staring at Price as he stands in the rec room. He’s dressed in civilian clothes, arms crossed as he stares down at you on the couch. You mark your place in your book, pushing yourself up to sit. It’s a Saturday afternoon, and unlike last week they had the day off, which means you do as well.

“Are you going to make me hike through the woods for two hours again, sir?” You ask, pushing yourself up to stand.

“No. We’re going into town.” He says.

You blink at him. You haven’t been off base since you arrived, and you figured you probably wouldn’t be getting that opportunity any time soon. “Can I ask why, sir?”

“We’ve got some shopping to do.” He says simply, turning and leaving the rec room.

You stand there shocked for a moment before you’re following after him, slipping into your room to put comfortable shoes on and grab your phone and a jacket. You don’t even have a wallet to carry around to make yourself feel better.

Price is waiting by the door for you, a car parked outside. You’re slow to approach him, suddenly feeling a mix of emotions. He’s doing this for you. He’d really taken your conversation last night to heart and now he’s going to go spend money on you that he doesn’t need to.

“What’s that look for sweetheart?” He asks, standing in front of the door.

“You don’t have to do this.” You say, staring up at him. He seems so tall like this, so...imposing.

“Course I do.” He says, his gaze softening just slightly. “Should have done it sooner. You deserve to be comfortable too.” He says, turning to open the door.

You follow him out, climbing into the car when he opens the door for you. He gets in the driver’s seat, the car rumbling to life. He drives to the front gate, passing off two ID cards to the guards. He passes one to you when the guard hands them back, the gate in front of you opening.

“That’s your ID card. Gets you on and off base.” He explains as he drives away from the gate. “I doubt you’ll be leaving on your own, but just in case.”

“Thank you, sir.” You say, slipping the card under your phone case for the time being.

He glances at you, a small smile on his lips. “You can call me John, if you'd like. You don't need to be formal when we're in private.”

“Yes, sir.” You make a face, biting your lip at your automatic response. “Sorry. Old habits.”

“From the institute?” He asks.

You shake your head. “My dad, actually. He was a firm believer in respecting authority figures. All ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, sir’ by the time we were old enough to know the difference.”

“Sounds like my father.” He says, staring out at the road ahead. “Old grizzled military man.”

“Do you still have contact with him?” You ask curiously. You don’t know much of anything about their families, their backgrounds.

“Not really. Beyond holidays, neither of us really make an effort to talk to the other. After mum passed, there wasn’t much to talk about.” He says.

“She was the glue.” You say, watching the trees pass by the car.

“Yeah.” He huffs out a laugh. “As betas usually are.”

“Do you have any siblings?” You ask, curiosity getting the better of you. You know next to nothing about them, while they likely know your entire life story.

“No,” He shakes his head. “Just me. You have a lot of siblings.”

You nod. “Seven at the time I left for the institute. Could be more now.”

“They never tried to keep contact with you?” He asks.

“Nope.” You turn to look out the window. “The institute didn’t really encourage it either, because we were being prepared to join new packs. That’s hard to do when you still have bonds with your old ones. I think they might have forcibly ended some. I know there were some omegas that tried to keep contact, but it became less and less until eventually it just stopped.”

Price’s hands tighten around the steering wheel just slightly. You wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t been paying attention. Silence settles in the car as he drives, farmlands passing until the houses start getting closer and closer together. You stare at the buildings as he drives through town, a blend of historical and modern.

“It’s beautiful here.” You say, watching people and cars pass by.

“I suppose so.” He says, glancing at you. “I grew up in this area.”

You turn to look at him. “You did? I didn’t know that. Then again, I don’t know much about any of you.”

“You can ask us, you know.” He says. “We don’t have to be that secretive with you. At least not about ourselves.”

He pulls into a parking lot, opening your door for you and helping you out of the car. You slip your hand into his, holding it as you cross the parking lot. You stare up at the store. ASDA. You’ve never heard of it before, though you suppose the stores would be different here too.

Price drops your hand to grab a cart, the store bustling with people. You hang onto the edge of the cart, staying close to Price’s side. “We’re here for you.” He says, guiding you through the aisles. “Get whatever you want.”

He’s led you to the homegoods section, your eyes widening at the entire aisle of blankets and bedding in front of you. You try to take it all in, but you feel a bit overwhelmed. There’s so many choices, so many options.

“Pick out as many as you want. Don’t worry about the price.” He says, before you can protest. “We get paid decently, but don’t have many chances to use it. Let me do this for you.”

You stare up into his eyes, the sincerity in them, before you nod, turning back to the wall of blankets before you. You study them, running your hand along them to find the softest ones, doing as he says and ignoring the price tags. You settle on a couple soft ones, grabbing a throw blanket as well that you can pack around to the rec room if you want to. He takes you to the pillow aisle, and you settle on a pair of fluffy pillows, as well as a couple decorative ones as well.

“Here.” He slips a big plush strawberry into your arms before you leave the aisle, your cheeks warming as you look at it. “Makes me think of you.”

You preen at his words, holding onto the strawberry as you make for the lamps and nightlights, settling on a cat shaped one that will sit on your desk and changes colors. You pick up a few other items before heading for the toiletries, finally setting the strawberry in the cart as you zero in on the soaps and body washes. You smell all the strawberry scented ones, trying to find the perfect one.

“Why strawberry?” Price asks as you put a strawberries and cream scented body wash in the cart.

“Compliments my scent.” You explain as he leads you to the shampoo and conditioner. “We had a scent specialist come to the institute one time as an activity. We all figured out what our scents smell like and what notes compliment them the best.”

An arm wraps around your waist before you can look at the shampoo, pulling you back against a broad chest. Price’s nose presses into your neck and he inhales deeply. He lets out a content hum, his beard tickling the sensitive skin of your neck. “I think you’re right.”

Your face burns hot as he presses a gentle kiss against the side of your neck before releasing you. You stand there for a moment, trying to calm the heat rushing through your body and focus on the shampoo. You hear him chuckle as you shuffle forward, your face still burning as you smell the shampoo bottles.

You settle on one, holding onto Price’s arm as you continue around the store, picking up a few other items and a couple for himself as well before heading to the checkout.

You hold on to Price’s arm as you leave the store, sticking close to him as he loads the bags into the trunk. You can feel the slight tension in his body, the way his eyes scan the parking lot every few seconds. You can’t even begin to imagine how hard it must be for him to relax, especially out in public. How fast his mind has to be running, how alert he is to everyone and everything. A threat could come out of nowhere, could come from anyone.

It must be exhausting.

“Hungry, sweetheart?” He asks as he buckles his seatbelt.

“Always.” You answer, leaning on the center console.

He smiles. “What are you in the mood for?”

You blink at him. Most of the restaurants you know probably don’t exist in England. “Fish and chips?” You offer, pulling up the one British food you’re confident in naming.

“Fish and chips it is.” He says, turning on the car.

“I have yet to have real fish and chips.” You say, settling into the passenger seat.

“Well, I know the perfect place.” He says, pulling out of the parking lot.

You don’t have to go far before he’s parking on the street and helping you out of the car. His hand settles on your lower back, guiding you down the street to a fish and chips shop.

It's too early for the dinner rush, the shop mostly empty and quiet. Price orders for you before guiding you to a table, and you let him sit facing the door and front window. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to. They seem so relaxed on base, though you suppose that's the place they feel the most comfortable. You can't even imagine the kinds of things they've seen, the horrors they've been subjected to.

You don't want to think about the things they've done.

Your eyes snap downwards as Price's hand slides across the table, closing around yours. You don't want to think about the things he's done with those hands. The lives he's taken, the people he's tortured. Will he ever turn those hands on you?

They've given you no reason to fear them yet. They've all been kind, polite. Even Ghost hasn't truly given you a reason to fear him, despite his obvious disapproval and hard exterior.

You know nothing about them.

You've known them for just over two weeks. You can't possibly have any understanding of who they are, how they express their emotions. What if they get upset? What happens when they get angry? What if you anger them?

“I know this hasn’t been easy for you. Any of it.” Price says, drawing you from your worried thoughts. “I know you were taught to expect this, perhaps not this exact situation, but something like this. Being sent off to some strange alpha to join their pack, bonding with complete strangers. None of us were expecting this either. It’s been an adjustment in a lot of ways, but I want you to know that we’ll take care of you. You need anything, you tell us. You want anything, we’ll do our best to make it happen. We’ll keep you safe.” He lifts your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “I promise you that.”

You want to believe him. You really do. They haven’t given you any reason to not believe it.

It’s only been two weeks.

You continue to talk with him as you eat, making light conversation, getting to know him a bit more. Despite the trickling uncertainty in the back of your mind, it feels good. It feels like a date, something you had dreamed of before you presented, something you had imagined happening when you finally got old enough to start looking for potential mates and packs.

Of course, back then, you had thought you’d be an alpha.

It had been expected of you.

Price has his arm wrapped around you as you walk back to the car, his hand on your hip. It’s possessive almost, and it makes your stomach flutter. Price is the only one you haven’t kissed yet, well, besides Ghost, but you’re certain you’d wind up through a wall if you even thought of trying. It’s almost ironic that Price would be the last, considering he’s going to be the one claiming you, the one you spend your heat with.

You stare out the window as the buildings fade into farmlands again. The sun is setting, painting the world in oranges and reds. You still feel a bit warm from Price’s possessive hold on you, his teasing in the store. You can still feel the tickle of his beard on your skin, his lips pressing against your neck.

You jump when rough fingers trail down your arm, pulling it from where it had been resting in your lap.

“You were right.” Price says as he lifts your hand to his face, pressing his nose against your wrist and inhaling for a moment. “Strawberries are the strongest note in your scent.” He lowers your hand again, lacing your fingers together. “What’s got you all worked up over there.”

You stare at him, your face getting warm again. Of course he can smell it. You can smell the muskiness beginning to form around the edges of his scent. Desire. “You haven’t kissed me yet.” You say, moving his hand into your lap. “You're the only one that hasn't...well, besides Ghost.”

He huffs out a quiet laugh. “You sound disappointed.”

You untangle your fingers with his, letting his hand rest on your thigh. “What if I am?”

His fingers flex against your leg, the muskiness of his scent strengthening. “Then maybe we should fix that.”

The cocktail of scents in the car is intoxicating, and you feel bad for the poor beta soldier at the gate when Price rolls down the window to hand off your IDs.

Price is out of the car as soon as it's parked, moving around to your side to open the door. He pins you against the side of the car as soon as you're out, caging you in with his arms.

You stare up at him, head swimming with the musk laced in his scent. You can see his eyes shining in the light next to the door of the barracks. He looks like a hungry wolf, the back of your neck prickling with excitement.

He leans down, breath fanning your face as he gets closer and closer to you. You press yourself against him, hands gripping his shoulders as he presses his lips to yours. His lips are surprisingly soft, his beard tickling your face. He growls quietly against your lips, pushing you harder against the side of the car.

You let out a quiet sound in response, hands gripping his jacket. His hands slide from the car to your sides, sliding down to grip your hips. You can feel the muscle hidden beneath his jacket and shirt, the strength that he possesses. He may not be purebred like Ghost, but he’s still every inch an alpha.

You let out another quiet sound as he pulls away, pressing a caste kiss to the corner of your lips. “Bloody hell, now I know what those boys were on about.” He breathes, leaning his forehead against yours.

“They were talking about me?” You ask, pulling back slightly.

“Only good things.” Price grins, leaning down to kiss you again. “Sweet as sugar.” He breathes, kissing you again. “And just as addicting.” He pulls away from you, his hands resting on your waist. “We should get your stuff inside so you can get it all set up. Want me to fetch one of the boys to help?”

You bite your lip. “Or you could just do it.”

He stares down at you, something flashing across his face but you can’t quite make it out in the low light. “You’re sure?” His voice is quiet, taking on that soft tone it often does when he speaks to you.

“You’ll have to eventually.” You shrug. “Might as well start now.”

He leans down, kissing you again before pulling away, opening up the trunk. He grabs most of the bags, only leaving the pillows for you to grab before he leads the way into the barracks. You open your door, stepping in first before he follows. You dump your pillows on the bed, and he sets the rest of the bags on your desk.

“Blankets in the wash.” You say, digging them out of the bags, pulling the tags off.

“I’ll take them.” He says, fishing out his stuff from the bags before taking the blankets from you.

You switch out your pillows for the softer ones, organizing the decorative ones just the way you want. You squish the strawberry to your chest again, a smile forming on your face before you flop back onto the bed, sinking into the soft pillows. It’s almost perfect, you think.

“Comfortable?” Price’s voice rumbles in the doorway, a smile on his face as he stares at you.

“Much better.” You say, sitting up and placing the strawberry in its place.

The two of you finish taking everything out of the bags, decorating the rest of your room. The posters on the walls, and the nightlight on your desk. It feels far more homey already, and you know you’re going to sleep well tonight once the blankets are out of the wash.

“Thank you.” You say, looking up at Price. “This really means a lot.”

“All in a day’s work, love.” He says, pulling you into his arms again.

You lean against his chest, resting your head over his heart, listening to it beat steadily against your ear.

You wake up suddenly, yet you’re not quite sure why. There’s no one in your room, your new nightlight easily showing you that. Your mouth is dry, but there’s a line of wetness down your chin. You reach across your nightstand, your phone illuminating the time.

Just past one a.m.

You smack your lips, feeling thirsty after the excitement of the day. You’d forgotten to grab water when you left the rec room and you huff out a sigh. You don’t want to get up, but now that you’re aware you’re thirsty, there’s no stopping those thoughts.

You don’t even bother with slippers as you pad to the door, opening it up. You leave it cracked as you sleepily shuffle towards the rec room, the barracks almost dead quiet this late. You grab a bottle from the fridge, unscrewing the top before drinking a few gulps. It’s cold and tastes divine, soothing the dryness of your mouth. You screw the top back on, closing the fridge before heading back towards your room.

You turn the corner, still half asleep, nearly yelping as you slam into a chest. You stumble back a couple steps, staring up at the covered face looming over you. You gulp, holding the bottle to your chest.

“S-Sorry.” You stutter.

“You’re out of bed.” He says quietly, voice rumbling in the silence.

“Thirsty.” It’s all you can manage as you hold up the bottle.

He stares at you for a long moment, eyes flickering all over your face. His chest is heaving, almost as if he had been running before you ran into him. His hands are closed into fists at his sides, knuckles almost white with how tense he is. You think for a moment he might be mad, but you can’t catch any whiff of ozone in the air. Your nose prickles at the scent, but it’s not anger.

Your tired brain can’t make sense of it, yearning to sink back into the softness of your bed again. You slowly shuffle around him, taking cautious steps, waiting for him to reach out and stop you, but he doesn’t. He simply watches you go, standing there in the hallway as you slip back into your room, not moving until he hears the click of your lock slipping into place.

NEXT ->

Taglist:

@bobaprint @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnesx @protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @thatonepupkai @redwites @kattiieee @141trash @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @smile-child-13 @anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @linaangel @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows, @ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10, @cassiecasluciluce @darling006 @sheep-from-rad @ohgodthebogisback @willow-sages @scythemood @daniblogs164 @mirzamsaiph

#call of duty #call of duty fic #x reader #john price x reader #captain price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #poly 141 #task force 141 x reader #omegaverse #a/b/o #alpha/beta/omega dynamics

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oopsiedaisydeer · 2 months ago

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ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴍɪᴛʜꜱ

…𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘢

fluff, kissing, tiktok trend, established relationship, soft!matt but he won't admit it, goofy, idiots in love

requested by @applecidersturniolo !

word count - 700ish

You’re sitting cross-legged on Matt’s bed, holding your phone up for him to see. He’s half-sprawled out next to you, scrolling through his own phone like he’s not that interested, but you can tell he is.

“Do you wanna do this trend with me?” you ask, nudging his arm.

Matt glances over, barely lifting his head. “What trend?”

You flip your phone around, pressing play on the 500 Days of Summer audio. He watches, brows furrowing slightly as it plays. Then, the couple on the screen lunge at each other, kissing so hard they fall out of frame.

Matt’s eyes flick back to you, unreadable for a second. Then, he snorts. “Wait. So we just say the lines and then, like… violently make out?”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. “It’s romantic, Matt.”

“Uh-huh.” He’s fighting back a grin now, still acting like he’s above it. “And we have to disappear out of frame?”

“Yes.”

Matt exhales through his nose, staring at you like he’s already regretting agreeing to this. But then he sets his phone down, stretches his arms over his head, and mutters, “Alright. Let’s make some cinema.”

Take one.

The camera is propped up, slightly off-center, the lighting warm and dim. You try to keep a straight face, turning toward him.

“I love The Smiths.”

Matt stares at you blankly.

“Matt,” you whisper, nudging his leg.

He blinks. “Oh, wait. Sorry?”

You dissolve into laughter, covering your mouth. “You’re supposed to say it, not actually be confused.”

Matt groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Okay, okay. Again.”

Take two.

“I love The Smiths.��

“Sorry?”

“I said—”

Before you can even finish, Matt lunges at you. No warning, no hesitation, just full-on crashes into you, completely messing up the timing. You yelp, hands flying up to steady yourself as you both fall out of frame way too soon, almost falling off the bed as you knock the phone also.

The camera catches nothing but the ceiling and a blur of movement.

Silence.

Matt groans, “That was terrible.”

You’re already wheezing, clutching your stomach. “Matt, we looked insane.”

He smiles at you, kissing you anyway before flopping onto his back, staring at the ceiling. “Maybe we are.”

Take three.

This time, you’re focused. You inhale, make sure Matt is actually ready.

“I love The Smiths.”

“Sorry?”

“I said—I love The Smiths.”

And then, perfectly on cue, you both lean in, slow at first—teasing, just the briefest brush of lips, the softest press before you feel the heat of Matt’s breath.

And then, without warning, Matt pulls you in harder, a bit desperate, the kiss deepening immediately. His hands find their way to your hair, tugging you closer as his lips move against yours with a softness that surprises you.

You gasp against his mouth, hands gripping the front of his shirt, and for a second, it feels like it’s just the two of you in this quiet room. The kiss is hungry now, full of little moments that have led up to this, a little bit of teasing, a little bit of need, the world fading away as the kiss intensifies, pulling you off the edge of the bed in the process.

As you both fall, tangled in each other, you end up just out of frame, your bodies twisting as you kiss with the kind of urgency that makes everything feel perfect.

The last shot is just the empty bed, a lamp flickering softly in the background. You shuffle in Matt’s grasp, trying to get closer as he continues kissing you, pulling you even further into him.

When he finally pulls away, breathless, his forehead rests against yours for just a moment before he pulls back slightly, a small smile curling at his lips.

"Was that too much?"

And obviously, when you post it, the comments explode.

“They practiced this. I know they practiced this.” “This is EXACTLY how the trend is supposed to be done.” “Matt looking at her. Stop im so single” “The way he’s definitely watching this back 50 times.”

And Matt? He acts chill, like he doesn’t care that much, but later, when you glance at his phone, you catch a glimpse of the video playing again.

Just once. Maybe twice.

credits to rose for the dividers !! @bernardsbendystraws

a/n: some more fluff even though i am anti-fluff this kinda made me smile jsdkhfksjh

taglist: @blushsturns @sturnslutz @snoopychris @sturnshood @sturns-mermaid @chrissweetheart @cowboylikenat @sturnsrecordfaves @camzeecorner @sturniolo101 @courta13 @sweetshuga

#inez˚˖𓍢ִ໋`🌿:✧˚#inez ff ˚˖𓍢ִ໋`🌿:✧˚#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo imagine #matthew sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo x you #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader

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nishibons · 1 year ago

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𝐇𝐄𝐘, 𝐈𝐓’𝐒 𝐌𝐄 . . .

or piwon pining thoughts/texts

warnings na genre fluff word count eight hundred excluding texts

note hiii everybody!! sorry i disappeared for a bit but ive been busy with uni TT i got an 85 on my recent assignment tho so everybody cheer… anyway ive been obsessed with piwon lately hence this post but fear not i have an enha version coming soon

keeho

confident but humble. he doesn’t have any expectations for your relationship but hopes that you’ll eventually catch on to his borderline obnoxious flirting, and better yet, reciprocate. if you do happen to return his feelings, he doesn’t waste any time in asking you out properly, because why wait? his friends say he laughs too loud around you for you to not know about his feelings, but he swears that they’re just being dramatic… he’s so normal and chill about you, really, that joke about the refrigerator or something was just funny!

taeyang

an absolute menace. you end up assuming that he hates you with how he stares you down whenever you enter his vicinity and with how he exchanges hushed whispers with his friends from across the room, silenced only when he turns his head far away enough to steal glances at you. eventually, once he asks for your number under the guise of it apparently being weird that you were the only two between your mutual friend groups to not have exchanged numbers, he plays into this idea, hoping he can pull off some sort of enemies to lovers trope, because it always works in books, right? in truth, he’s just a little bit apprehensive about the vulnerability that comes with liking someone, and tries to preserve his pride with thinly veiled insults that upon second glance quickly fall apart. can you melt his icy cold heart? (the answer is yes.)

jiung

likes you from the very beginning, but is a strong believer in the idea that lovers should be friends first, so he tries his best to establish a genuine relationship with you before he even begins to think about making any moves. he shows strong initiative even throughout your friendship–whether it’s invitations to meet up for lunch, to see that movie you’ve been eagerly waiting the release of, or even paying for your coffee every single time, he’s quick to assure you and dispels any worries you might have about repaying him with a wave of his hand and a bright smile–your company is enough, he says, and if you end up falling for him (who wouldn’t?) he, of course, eagerly awaits the day he can take you for an actual date, but enjoys every moment he spends with you until then just as much.

intak

by far the most shameless with his affection. he can’t help it–you have him hopelessly whipped from the very beginning and he’s terrible at hiding it anyway, so why not lean into it? the first to jump up from his seat when you mention being thirsty–water or juice? and the first to compliment you regardless of the circumstances of your meeting, even on those days you can’t manage anything but a sweater pulled hastily over your shoulders and a messy updo. it’s impossible not to feel flattered around him, and he’s honestly not even actively trying to flatter you, he’s just being wholly honest. if you ever want to shut him up, just compliment him back–hopefully you have a stretcher on hand!

shota

the cutest ever. you catch him staring at you more than a few times before he eventually works up the nerve to approach you, and initially you’re intimidated–but the moment he opens his mouth you know that he’s harmless, and obscenely adorable to beat. he’s not the greatest at expressing himself with words, so he makes sure to show that he likes you by sending you things that remind him of you–songs from an artist he likes, those little figures you collect he sees in the window of a store on the way to work, a rainbow in the sky after a rainy morning. sometimes he provides some commentary, or a cute emoticon, and other times he says nothing, sending only a simple picture and hoping that you can feel even just some of the many emotions that rush through him at the thought of you and have his heart fluttering in his chest when you eventually reply.

jongseob

the sweetest of angels. he doesn’t crush often, but when he does, he crushes hard, so he doesn’t want to mess it up. though he’s rather reserved on the flirting front, he makes sure to send good morning and good night texts every day, without fail, on top of the seemingly random yet innocuous questions he asks throughout the day–what did you eat for lunch? how was work? any thoughts on this new album that just came out? part of it is in hopes that eventually you’ll fall for him as he did you, but he does also take genuine interest in you as a person and wants to know everything about you there is to know if you’ll just give him the chance. flirt with him at all and you’ll very quickly have him turning into a giggling, indecipherably stammering mess.

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monamipencil · 7 months ago

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── 𝗠𝗥. 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗠𝗥𝗦. 𝗬𝗢𝗢𝗡 ft. jeonghan

⛧synopsis; an intrusion, a couple, a murder and a twist. — second fic of lola's spooktober

⛧ pairings; husband! jeonghan x fem! reader ⛧ genre; smut, gore, horror ⛧ w.c; 4.1k+ ⛧ warnings; hybristophilia, body worship, blood, murder/death, description of corpse, sex on the dining table lmao, HORNY fucking, unprotected sex, oral (f.receiving) creampie, allusions to cults, devil worship, etc etc. mentions of food ⛧ a/n; *clears thorat* *coughs* im so sorry for the delay lmao, i was absolutely not motivated to write. but anyways, enjoy!!

READ AT YOUR OWN CAUTION ⛧ MDNI

[ 07th October, 2024 ]

Thunder crackles, and lightning strikes. The heavy rain pitter-patters on the windows and roofs. Water flows, flooding the streets, making them inhabitable to unlucky strays. Chaos brews outside, and you observe it from within the safety of your home.

A ‘meow’ shifts your attention. You smile at the cat you rescued from the storm and rub its head. It meows again and shuffles to the living room, black fur disappearing behind the couch.

“-And everyone is requested to stay at home or take shelter till further notifications. Police’s investigation into the recent murders have been halted due to the storm. We request everyone to stay sa—”

The television cuts off and comes alive again, buzzing and glitching. You turn it off with a sigh. Except for the pitter-patter of the rain, your home is silent. The silence lays heavy on the walls and floors. You can’t seem to fill it no matter what. Your hand involuntarily touches the pendant your husband gifted you. Muttering a prayer to Him, you ask for Jeonghan's safe return to you.

[ ... ]

The gentle sizzle of the vegetables fills your ears, and you pour water into the vessel, turning down the flame.

Your newly adopted cat nuzzles between your legs, purring with content at the warmth. You smile and coo at it. But before you can adore it further, the doorbell rings.

You wipe your hands, contemplating whether or not to attend it. It couldn't be Jeonghan. You sigh and walk to the door. The black furball stays in the kitchen, observing you with its yellow eyes.

Looking through the peephole, you see someone shivering from the cold and absolutely drenched. Your hands fly to unlock the door, and the person is startled at the force you open it.

“Come in, please!” you move from his way. He nods his head with gratitude and walks in weakly.

Quickly shutting the door, you lock it. The stranger turns to see you secure the array of locks on the door. You greet him with a smile. He smiles back.

“I'm sorry for the inconvenience,” he apologizes, but you assure him and welcome him into your home. “Oh no, It's fine. I don't mind some company.”

He removes his drenched coat and hangs it on the coat hanger. While doing so, he notices another coat on it. “Is it just you at home, miss?”

“Mrs.” You correct him and reply, “Yes, my husband is out of town for business.”

He also removes his shoes and places them near the door, noticing another pair of shoes. “May I ask you why you are out in such a storm?”

“Ah, I turned up for work and my friend who was supposed to pick me didn't turn up.”

You give him an apologetic nod and gesture towards your living room. “Please make yourself at home. I'll quickly put together a warm soup for you.”

He tries to protest, but you reason with him and disappear into the kitchen. He sits on the sofa with a sigh and thanks God for helping him at the right time.

The low purr of a cat catches his attention. A black cat sits in the middle of the living room. It stares at him, and he awkwardly smiles at it and tries to distract himself. It leaves eventually.

The interior of your home mesmerizes him, reminding him of those vintage homes. The teal wallpapers and the antique decors mesh well together and create a homely look. The myriad of pictures on the wall near the kitchen intrigues him.

He walks towards it and observes each photo. He sees you in all of the frames, along with a man whom he deduces to be your husband. He sees all types of pictures, varying from road trips to studio ones.

“Is your husband a celebrity by any chance, Mrs. Yoon?” He inquires after seeing a frame with the writing, ‘Mr. and Mrs. Yoon.’ A vague feeling of familiarity brews in him the more he looks at your husband.

“Ah, no, no. He's devilishly handsome and he could be a great actor but he only does business.” You voice from within the kitchen, but his mind drains you out. He's more fixated on the pictures, unable to shake the feeling.

He doesn't say anything after that, but you don't mind the silence. Quietly humming, you put together the soup. You smile to yourself, thinking of your husband. If he had been here, he'd be behind you, arms wrapped around your waist as he peppers kisses on your neck.

Your daydream feels almost real as you feel a presence behind you. Chuckling, you shake your head and move to grab a bowl. But before you could, a voice shouts behind you.

“Did you kill him?!” The stranger yells, anger surging through his voice. Confusion strikes you, “What do you mean?”

You try to distance yourself from him and grab a knife. His hand catches your wrist harshly, and you cry out. Acting on your instincts, you fling the pot of soup at him. He yelps as the hot liquid makes contact with his skin.

With him muttering a plethora of curses, you run out of the kitchen. The cat observes the chaos, slowly wagging its tail. The stranger blindly moves to the sink and splashes water on his face to wash off the soup.

After gaining composure, he trudges out of the kitchen with a meat knife. He checks every door and room, eyes darting to all corners to find you. His skin stings and burns painfully. He winces but doesn't let it deter him.

The floor creaks beneath his foot, and he doesn't care if it alerts you. He wants you to know where he is, to be afraid of him. He wants to make you feel fear.

A smirk pulls his lips when he notices the basement door open. He stands in front of it, observing the steep set of stairs. As he descends down, a foul stench hits him, and he covers his nose.

He struggles to find the light switch and crashes into a few things. The stench is unbearable, and he cringes. After finally finding the switch, he turns it on.

Light illuminates the room, but some things are better hidden in the dark, like the dead guy tied to the wall. He can't find it in himself to scream or even utter a word. The only noise that escapes him is a gasp.

His horror intensifies when he recognizes it as his friend. “You fucking bitch! You killed him!”

But it seems that there are far graver things than his dead friend. The red pentagram etched on the ground makes his skin crawl. A turn of his head also reveals a board pinned with a map that has pictures of people pinned on several locations.

His heart stops beating when he finds his own picture on it.

A noise from the cupboard pulls him out of his trance, and he stalks to it. Yanking the door open, he finds you there, cowering in fear. You push him off you and run away from him. But there's no way out with him standing directly in front of the stairs.

He runs to you, pinning you to the wall. “You bitch!” Then, he cackles, “Aww, can't run anywhere now?” His grip tightens, and dread fills your gut. He leans in closer, “You're going to be so sorry for what you did when I gut you.”

You flinch and shut your eyes. The sound of a stab echoes through the room, but you don't feel any pain.

A heavy thud echoes through the room, followed by the sound of a body falling on the floor. Warm blood dots on your face, and some stain the cotton of your slip. You gasp and shudder, chest heaving as you struggle to breathe. Your eyes land on the injured body. Blood flows from his mouth and his chest. Three holes punctured through his chest.

You don’t need to look at him to figure out who your savior is. “Jeonghan!” you cry, throwing your arms around him. The garden fork he yields in his hands meets the floor as he hurries to take you in his embrace.

Your lips are on his instantly, kissing him with ardor. He matches your passion, both his hands on your waist, pulling you flush against him. You curl your arms around his neck, lost in the warmth of his lips. It isn’t long before his tongue prods your lips, and you’re more than happy to oblige.

His tongue glides over yours like it has countless other times. He shifts his head to gain a better angle and kisses you deeper. One of your hands uncurls to caress his face—his flawless skin, his high cheekbones, the bone of his jaw before it slides down further. You glide your hand over his shoulders, his lean biceps, and finally his crotch.

Jeonghan pulls away, out of breath and overjoyed. You mirror his grin when you find him rock-hard beneath his slacks. “Oh, how I missed seeing you kill,” you finish with a giggle.

With a playful roll to his eyes, he retorts, “it’s been barely four days since I did it.”

“And four days since I’ve seen you.” you pout, making him doe eyes at him. He melts instantly and cradles your face. “Always hungry aren’t you?”

“For you? Yes.”

“And for blood.” he adds, making you both giggle.

“Come on now, you gave me something to take care of.” With a pat on his bulge, you pull him up the stairs. Jeonghan happily follows but throws a cautious glance at the presumably dead body. He smiles, catching no sign of life in him, and trails behind you.

You strut to the dining table that adjoins the kitchen and the living room and sit on it. He grins at your place of choice, and lust taints his visage when you spread your legs, inviting him.

He stands between your thighs, taking a moment to appreciate the beauty in front of him. Little drops of blood decorate your face, but the look in your eyes entrances him. A myriad of emotions swirl beneath your irises, but he recognizes all of them, mainly lust and hunger.

His eyes dip down to the column of your neck, which he glides his forefinger over. His finger slowly ventures down and undoes the knot of your slip. He tuts, complaining about the blood on them. “That’s fine. It gives me evidence of your love.”

“I’m right here. The living proof of my love for you,” he pecks your lips and pushes the slip off you.

He pulls you to the edge of the table. His fingers ghost over the cloth of your underwear, brushing against the wet spot on them. His warm breath wafts down to your breasts when he kisses your neck and chest. “I can prove it now, if you want me to.”

A breathy moan escapes you, giving him somewhat of a ‘yes.’ With another kiss to your jugular, he pulls away and kneels down. He kisses your heat through the cotton material and smirks, eyeing the wet patch formed by your arousal. In one sly movement, he removes your hipsters. His lips are on your heat before you can process it. He kisses your little nub and gives kitten licks to your hole. His eyes dart to your eyes, mischief swirling under his dark irises. “Jeonghan! Please!”

“Please what sweetheart? You have to use your words.” You feel his smile on your core, and his warm breath wafts against it.

“Please, eat me out!”

He groans and obliges to your wishes right away. He dives right in, licking and kissing your folds. He moves above, wrapping your clit between his soft lips. He sucks on the bundle of nerves, tongue flicking at the bud softly. He makes sure to look at you the entire time he’s buried between your legs.

You relax and lay back down on the table. He spreads your legs further and licks up stripes on your sopping cunt. His tongue provides you the utmost pleasure, and moans fall from your lips freely. He switches to a slower pace as if he’s making out with your cunt.

His tongue prods your folds, licking and savoring your taste. His hand moves to spread your lips, and he places a wet, loud kiss on your clit. A gasp escapes you when his tongue slips past your hole. He slowly moves his tongue in and out while he thumbs at your clit, drawing circles.

He tones up his pace, getting faster and faster. Your legs tremble around his head as the coil in your stomach tightens. You cum the easiest whenever Jeonghan touches you after a “long time”—which is three days at the least. He seems to have some magic hidden up his sleeve to bring you the utmost pleasure possible. And, of course, all your years of marriage add to it.

The pressure on your clit builds up, causing your entire body to shudder and tremble. Your back arches, lifting off the table, but Jeonghan pushes you down, holding you firmly. And now that he has secured a tight grip on your hips, there is no escape from his tongue.

“Jeonghan!” you moan his name, hand shooting to grip his black locks. You push his head further into your cunt and move your hips in sync with his tongue. He smiles lazily between your legs, eyes holding nothing but awe and mirth.

The coil snaps, pushing you over the crescendo of pleasure. Wanton moans fill the room, and you cum on his tongue, giving him all your sweet nectar. Jeonghan licks you dry, caressing your trembling legs before he stands up.

Though you achieved your climax, the sight of your husband undoing his belt warms you up again. You sit up eagerly, hands flying to unbuckle his belt and slacks. He only chuckles, patting your head and muttering a low coo of ‘that's my girl.’

He slips off his shirt along with his slacks and boxers. It prompts you to undo your brassiere, presenting yourself bare to him. With a grin, he approaches you. You fawn at his rock-hard cock and undo your legs unconsciously.

Overwhelmed with the urge to feel him inside you, you pull him to you. He crashes his lips on yours in the process, giving you a searing kiss that sets your body aflame with desire. Your hands don't stay put, eager to roam all over his body. He does the same, hands relearning the route of your body for the nth time.

The heat of his body on yours melts your brain, knocking every thought out of you. The only thing you remember is his name and the way he makes you feel. Not the dire situation at play now or the dead body in your basement.

The brush of his fingers on your nipples, the poke of his cock against your inner thigh, the sensation of your sweltering skin making contact with his, the glide of his tongue on yours—all of it pushes you over the edge, driving you insane. Your arousal drips down your core, and it throbs with desire.

“Hannie,” you whine his name, your desire burning with a rage only he can control. “Fuck me.”

“As you wish, dollface.”

His cock slips past your entrance with ease, filling you up in an instant. You hook your legs behind him, your foot digging into his back to push him in further. Your gummy walls envelop him in a warm hug that makes him dizzy.

You moan in unison when he bottoms out, in bliss with how perfectly he fills you. Throwing your arms around his neck, you prompt him to move. The first thrust is easy, given how your cunt drips down with arousal. It fills you with a pleasure that makes your body tremble.

He sets his pace, fucking you with eagerness. Each slap of his balls against your ass makes your eyes roll to the back of your head, and you cling to him for dear life. Sinful moans rumble from your throat with each snap of his hips.

His lips find yours again, but this time the kiss is sloppy and messy, with moans passed between your tongues and erratic snap of his hips. You meet his hips with the same vigor. You fuck him with an animalistic desire in your veins, and he gives you back just the same.

“Ah—fuck! God, I love fucking after we kill.” you yelp between your moans. He groans, replying with a “fuck, yes.”

Jeonghan grips your hips firmly, driving his cock in and out of you with a vigorous pace that numbs your nerves. Your nails dig into his back, and you scratch his delicate skin, leaving red marks for him to admire. “Ah, ah, ah, ah!” you moan, unable to control your pleasure. The table squeaks in response to the vigor of his hips. You press your tits against his chest, desperate to feel more of his warmth.

You look down to where your body meets him. The sight of his cock disappearing into your cunt with a wet squelch each time makes you moan. A creamy ring forms at the base of his cock, and some of your arousal drips down to the table.

Jeonghan shifts one of his hands to harshly grip the back of your head, forcing you to look up at him. A grin decorates his face at the hazy look in your eyes. He keeps up his pace while moving his other hand to squeeze your mouth open. You push your tongue out eagerly, waiting for him to spit in your mouth. He does, and you happily taste him before swallowing it.

“Good girl,” he kisses your forehead, sliding his hand down to wrap around your throat. He grips your throat, squeezing it lightly. A chuckle erupts from his chest, watching your eyes roll back. He kisses your forehead again, only for him to deliver light slaps to your cheeks. Warmth pools in his chest when you whine and push yourself closer to him.

“Fuck, I love it when you go dumb on my cock.” He whispers into your ear, tickling you with his breath. His cock kisses your sweet spot, and you feel him twitching inside you.

You clench around him on purpose. He groans a low curse, and his movements turn erratic. You continue to do so till he eventually stops, whining a string of curses. “Stop it. Stop doing that,”

Obliging to his wishes, you observe him as he takes a few seconds to compose himself. His eyelids flutter, and his lips fall apart as he tries to regain control. A knowing smirk graces your lips, knowing the effect you have on him.

“Brat,” you only giggle in response, which is cut short when he thrusts with a force that has you shuddering. His tip kisses your cervix, sending shudders of pleasure through your body. Tears prick your waterline and eventually cascade down your cheek as you cry out his name.

All it takes is one more thrust to push you over the crescendo again. This time, it's more intense and mind-numbing. You moan his name over and over again, like a prayer for salvation. He follows suit and fills his load inside you, shuddering the same as you.

His hands wrap around you tightly and, yours around him. Leaning your head against his shoulders, you catch your breath and try to control the shivers through your body. His warm breath on your back calms you, and so do his feather-light touches.

Your eyelids feel heavy as slumber descends upon you. And, before you know it, you fall asleep in his arms.

[ … ]

“We have to let the others know about this,” Jeonghan informs, stirring his cup of tea with a spoon. You nod wordlessly, sipping your own cup of tea.

Slumber hasn't left you completely, and the tiredness weighs down on your bones. Your eyes slowly close shut again, and you lean back on the loveseat. Jeonghan sighs to himself, setting his cup down on the coffee table. He takes away yours before you can spill it on yourself.

Your soft groans make his heart flutter, and you stir awake again. The first thing you see is your husband sitting on the floor as he massages your legs.

“Poor thing, you must've had a hard time.” The pout on his lips makes you smile. “Not really,” you chirp, feeling more energetic as the seconds pass.

“Oh really?” he muses, and you hum. He shakes his head, worry marring his features. “What if I didn't get here on time? Why did you even allow him in?”

“I was bored.” To which he glares at you, a tired sigh falling from his lips.

“And, He visited.”

Jeonghan stops massaging your legs and looks up at you, confused. You see the tinge of fear in the clench of his jaw and the hold of his breath. You point to the black cat that has made itself home despite all the chaos that went down a few hours ago.

He visibly calms down and bows his head at the cat meows in return. He looks back at your smiling figure, and it strikes him. “Right, I asked for your safety to Him.”

“He saw our pictures,” your words barely audible as you look at the big wall covered with all your pictures with him. A soft smile graces your lips when your eyes fall on your wedding picture. 14th October, 1949.

Then you cackle, recalling the realization and terror on that guy's face. “Oh, you should've seen his face.” Jeonghan laughs along with you and resumes his ministrations on your legs. You relax on the cushion and let out a blissful sigh.

He sighs and zeroes in on the blood spots on your vintage slip. One of his many gifts to you, and it's something you've treasured for over seven decades.

“Ugh, it's fine. You can always buy me a new one.” You say, and a smirk adorns your lips when your eyes fall on the Johnny Cash vinyl on the shelf. You stand and walk towards it, pulling it out gently.

You flash your husband a grin, and he mirrors your visage. Placing the vinyl on the platter of the vinyl player, you move the tonearms and set it on the vinyl.

The world tunes into a buzzing background as you dance with him. His hands are gentle on you, holding you delicately. The setting is all a little too familiar to him, and before he knows it, he takes a trip down memory lane.

But the only one he can remember is the time when he almost lost you to death. The image of your bed-stricken figure flashes through his mind. He holds you a little closer.

In his life plan, Jeonghan never even imagined that you'd be diagnosed with cancer fifteen years into your marriage. Nothing held out, and it was hard to be optimistic with his wife on the lifeline.

And as he was holding your pained body in his arms, he cried and cried. What kind of god would allow this? Why should you be taken away? He felt life slowly slip out of you, and he couldn’t stop it.

They say to never pray to the gods that answer at night, but that’s all he could do. Turning his back on religion and righteousness. His love for you blinded all reason, and he yearned to be in your embrace once again. He could never live without you—what he feels is an immortal desire, lust, love. Even if he is to die, the ground around him will flourish and sprout your favorite flowers—an amaranthine yearning.

So he did it. He prayed and prayed, and when He finally answered, he vowed to do anything and everything that He wished for. Immortality for the curse of bloodied hands. He cringed at the sight of blood staining his skin, but as your bloodied hand intertwined with his, all felt right and in place.

His hands take purchase on your hips, holding you as you sway to the gentle hum of the music. You smile at him and lean on his shoulders, content in his embrace. He mirrors your smile and kisses your forehead.

What a blessing it is to be here with you? To gently sway to some music in the living room of your home with your blood-stained slips and his stained soul?

He kisses you, and you kiss him back. You bite his lips just enough to draw blood. A thousand ways to bleed, but you are his favorite.

⛧spooktober taglist !

@verogonewild @blancflms @chromequette @junniepookiedookie @kyeomiis

@jeonghnie @scoupsieee @xuminghaes @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @ririesna

@monstacheol @hoshiskimchi @miyx-amour @woozidanisms @choco-scoups

@cookiearmy @shadowyjellyfishfest @wonwoossecret @strxwberry-skiess @iamawkwardandshy

@merakilles @vitaminkyeom @okiedokrie @armycarat2612 @gyuguys

@idubiluranghae @goodforgyu @jungkooknippleanddicksucker @gyubakeries @nonuify

@aaniag @4cheezflatbred

#lola's spooktober ⛧#jeonghan smut #svthub #svt smut #seventeen smut #jeonghan fluff #yoon jeonghan #seventeen #jeonghan drabbles #jeonghan hard hours

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jussstlovely · 3 months ago

Text

Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby

Hyung Line Bf! Enhypen members comfort you when you’re stressed.

Mostly fluff but some angst, WC: around 2k altogether

Warnings: kissing, hugging, and use of pet names instead of y/n

Disclaimer: NSFW accounts DNI, please

an: Just a little something I wrote. Right now I am writing headcannons more than full fics, so I will open my requests if you have something you want me to write, (please read my rules page before requesting). Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Heeseung 희승

It was a Friday night when he heard the keys opening the door. He popped up to the sound, a smile forming on his face, but quickly disappeared when he saw you with an upset expression and tears in your eyes. He immediately got up to hug you, holding you there for a few moments before he pulled away to look at you.

“Baby, what happened?” he asked with worry.

“I had a hard day”, you were trying to hold back your tears as you replied, he noticed.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Mm…no, not right now, at least”

He agreed and took your heavy bag off of your shoulder.

Once he left to take your bag to his room you completely broke down. Heeseung couldn’t hear your silent cries and you were thankful for that, the reason why you are like this is because of the workload that your teachers are giving you. This week was long so you were looking forward to its end, but of course, your teachers had to assign 3 exams on Monday and 2 projects that took at least a day to work on.

You didn’t notice when your boyfriend came back into the room, and you also didn’t notice that he was there comforting you by rubbing your back. You forced yourself to stop crying.

A moment of silence passed between you two before you got up trying to go to your room. Heeseung stopped you.

“Where are you going?” he asked in a soft voice.

“I’m sorry Hee but I need to start studying, I’ll be in my room” you replied quietly.

You were stopped by his hand gently grabbing your wrist.

“Have you eaten yet?” he asked. You shook your head. “Love you should eat, would you like me to make you some ramen?”

Your head popped up to that question and you nodded your head in reply.

He smiled, “Okay, come sit down here and I’ll make you your ramen”

You quietly moved to sit on the chair, admiring him as he made your ramen, his eyebrows furrowing sometimes to focus.

“Okay, here you go my love, eat up,” he says as he hands you the bowl filled with ramen.

The smell of the ramen was enough to make your stomach grumble in hunger and without hesitation, you took a bite.

In that process, Heeseung moved to sit next to you, staring at you with love in his eyes.

Some moments passed before you showed him your empty bowl, and he smiled in return. As he got up to rinse your bowl you quietly admitted what had been stressing you out. He heard it.

“Well, I promise that I’ll help you every step of the way, I’ll always be here. But honey you look tired, why don’t we take a nap first?

“Okay,” you said as you got up to hug him.

After a few minutes, you two moved to your guy’s room and flopped on the bed together.

As Heeseung pulled the covers up, you looked up at him with admiration.

“What?” he asked with a grin.

“Nothing, I’m just lucky to have you”

“I’m lucky to have you, honey”

“I love you”

“I love you too baby”

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

Jay 제이

When you get stressed, you tend to block out everyone from your life, just for a moment, until you feel ready to talk again. You've been doing that ever since you were young when the fights or the amount of homework was too much, but you finally stopped when you met Jay.

Jay can read you like an open book, he knows when you're tired, angry, or sad and he especially knows when you’re stressed.

So whenever you’re stressed now, instead of locking yourself up in your room, you go to him for comfort. He usually just cuddles with you or cooks you something, but today, he was busy working on a new song, you remember him telling you to not come in his room until he’s done working on the song but today has been such a hard and stressful day it had completely slipped your mind as you walked towards Jay’s room with tears coming down your face, you just wanted a hug from him.

Once you opened the door, he was surprised to see you there at first but that surprised look turned into a worried look as he saw you crying in front of him.

“Aww baby what happened?” he asked as he gestured to come closer to him.

“Can I have a hug?” you asked sniffling.

“Of course baby, come here”

You guys stayed in that hug for a few moments until he asked again.

“Ugh, I just feel so stressed right now, I have so many assignments to do, and one of my friends isn't talking to me and I don’t know what I did, I mean-“

“Baby,” he interrupts your rambling.

“Yeah?”

“It’s gonna be okay, you’re gonna be okay I promise I will do everything that I can to make your stress go away,” he said as he wiped the tear from your cheek, you didn’t even notice that you were crying again.

“Thank you, Jay”

“Of course sweetheart”

“Do you want to hear what I’ve been working on?”

You replied with an enthusiastic nod which made him smile.

As he grabbed his guitar you went to sit on his bed, he faced the chair to you and started playing your favorite song.

‘Whispered something in your ear’

‘It was a perverted thing to say’

‘But I said it anyway’

‘Made you smile and look away’

While he was playing you couldn’t help but smile and tear up.

‘Nothing’s gonna hurt you, baby’

As he sang that lyric he looked up at you with a smile on his face, this was exactly what you needed,

‘Nothing’s gonna take you from my side…’

Soon the song ended and as he moved to put his guitar down you rushed to hug him in your arms. Tears started pouring down your face again.

“Thank you, Jay, I needed that. You did such a good job”

“Thank you, baby, I love you”

“I love you too”

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

Jake 제이크

You came home from a tough day at school and work, all you wanted to do was cuddle with your boyfriend, but when you came home, it was silent and the lights were off. You were sure Jake would tell you if he went out. You were about to call him until you heard him talking to his friends. Oh, he’s playing video games right now.

Taking off your shoes and dropping your bag on the chair you headed to your room until you saw him come out of his room, headset still on, carrying an empty but dirty plate.

“Oh, baby hi!” Jake said coming to hug you.

“Hi, Jake,” you said in his arms with a tired expression.

“What’s wrong? You okay?” he asked as he noticed the sad tone in your voice.

“Can I talk to you?” you asked with tears forming in your eyes. This made Jake start worrying about you, you wanted to talk? About what? About you guys? About your relationship?

“Uhm yeah okay, just give me a sec, I have to put these dishes in the sink”.

“Okay, I’ll be in your room”.

Once you were in his room, you went to sit on his bed, trying your hardest not to cry.

Once Jake came in, he closed the door and went to sit in front of you.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” That’s when you surprised him by wrapping your arms around him, crying on his shoulder.

“Woah, baby, what happened? Talk to me”. That’s when you finally told him about how poorly your day went, you told him every detail from how horrible your classes were to how the customers and employees treated you, even telling him how you were starving all day because you forgot to pack your snack and lunch.

“I’m so sorry baby, what can I do to help?”

“Mmm, I don’t know, just stay here with me?”

“Of course baby,” he said as he moved to lay down with you.

You two stayed in each other’s arms until he got a call from his friends, telling him to hop back on the game.

“Dude I’m with my girlfriend right now, she had a hard day,” he said on the phone. To which his friend apologized, and Jake went back to lay with you.

“It’s okay, you can go back to playing with your friends babe.”

“No no it’s okay, I’ll stay here with you”.

With that, he went back to holding you in his arms, until he got another call, this time on his PC.

“Oh my gosh!” he yelled as he got up abruptly, about to end the call until you told him again that he should go play with his friends.

��Are you sure?”

You nodded in reply. That’s when he had an idea.

“Do you want to sit with me while I play?” he asked from his chair.

“Hmm sure,” you said as you went towards him. You climbed on his lap and put your head on his shoulder as he answered the call with his friends.

As you were laying on his shoulder, listening to him talk to his friends, you started humming your favorite song at the moment, ‘Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby’. Jake must’ve heard you because he started singing the lyrics quietly while he was muted.

You looked up from his shoulder, “You know that song?”

“Yeah, I love Cigarettes After Sex”. You kissed him.

“Wha-What was that for?” Jake asked, slightly surprised by your boldness.

“Nothing, I just love you”

“Well, I love you too”. He said as he kissed you again.

Several kisses later, his friends started calling him, but he ended up leaving the call.

“Why’d you leave?” you asked, he looked down at you with a soft smile.

“Because I’d rather spend my time with you,” he said as he got up from his chair, taking your hand and leading you to his bed. You followed him.

Once you two got under the covers he turned off all the lights and said goodnight.

“I love you, Jake”

“I love you too baby”.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

Sunghoon 성훈

You and Sunghoon have been dating for 2 months now, and it’s been amazing, he’s so caring and loving and cute, ugh, he’s such a perfect boyfriend, so why are you arguing with him right now?

“No, Sunghoon, it’s the fact that you didn’t do the dishes when I asked you five times today”

“Okay, I’m sorry, I’ll do them right now,” Sunghoon said, walking towards the kitchen.

“No, no, that’s not the point!…do you know how stressful my week has been? School has been giving me hell, and after that, I have to go work and deal with crappy customers, and then I get home expecting a clean home, but then I see these dirty dishes piling in the sink, and I end up having to do them every. single. day ....all I want is to come home to a nice clean house, and I understand that you’re busy too, but I’ve asked you five times today. Is that too much to ask for?”

“I-I didn’t know that that’s how you’re feeling”

“Yeah, that is how I’m feeling,” you said as you grabbed your keys and headed towards the door.

“Wait, baby, where are you going?”

“I’m going to get some fresh air,” you said as you slammed the door shut.

It was now silent in the apartment, Sunghoon didn’t know whether to run after you, stay here and clean the dishes, or just lock himself in his room. You guys never fought, and the way you just reacted worried him, why couldn’t he just listen to you and do the dishes when you asked?

As you got into your car, you completely broke down, why are you feeling like this? Why did you yell at Sunghoon? He didn’t deserve that. You should apologize, but you’re not ready to talk to him right now, ugh, he probably wants to break up after that, it’s only been 2 months, and he’ll probably get over you easily, but you’re not ready to leave him, you love him. Oh my gosh, you love him.

Back at the apartment, Sunghoon was lying on his bed worrying about you when he heard the keys to the door open. He popped up, you’re back.

When you opened the door to your apartment, the first thing you noticed was the clean dishes, you smiled and started walking towards Sunghoons door.

There was a knock on his door, and he got up to open it, and he saw you, there was mascara smudged by your eyes, and you were frowning. You went to hug him immediately, and he hugged you back tighter.

“I’m sorry, Sunghoon, I didn’t mean to yell at you. I've just been so stressed out lately, and I took it out on you, and I feel so guilty-“

“Shh, it’s okay, love. I’m sorry that you’re stressed, and don’t apologize it’s not your fault it was mine, I should’ve listened to you when you asked me,” he reassured you, leading you to sit on his bed.

“No, I’m sorry, please don’t leave me, just stay here with me, please”

He was surprised by your words, “Sweetie, why do you think I’ll leave you?”

“Oh, I don’t know I thought that after that fight, you wouldn’t want to put up with me-“

“No, no, of course not, babe, I’ll never break up with you.” He gently grabbed your chin, making you look up at him.

“Baby, I won’t ever leave you like that, okay? And please don’t feel guilty for getting mad at me when it was my fault.”

“Okay,” you said, leaning your head on his and looking into his eyes.

You two stared at each other for a few seconds before Sunghoon closed the gap between you both.

Sunghoon grabbed your waist to pull you closer, and you started threading your fingers in his hair, then you both pulled away, slightly out of breath.

He stared at you with loving eyes.

“I love you Y/n”

“I love you too, Sunghoon”

In those moments, you both hope that there will be many more days together and how lucky you are to have each other.

Hope you enjoyed it, if you did please like, comment or reblog! thank you 𓂃۶ৎ

#enhypen imagines #enhypen #enhypen fic #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen angst #enhypen headcanons #enhypen drabbles #enhypen scenarios #jussstlovely

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arxiwon · 2 months ago

Note

can u write a longer version of vampire heeseung turning his dying girlfriend too please🥹

Say less honey, ofc I can 🤍

Eclipsed by Eternity

Pairing: Vampire!Heeseung x Human!Reader → Turned Vampire

Genre: Supernatural, Angst, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Soulmates

Warnings: Blood, graphic injury, transformation pain, emotional distress, hunger struggles, slight possessiveness

Synopsis:

Heeseung had promised he’d never turn you. That you’d live a normal human life, untouched by the darkness that followed him. But when fate rips you from his grasp too soon, he’s left with an impossible choice—break his promise or lose you forever.

The transformation was never meant to be painless, but neither of you realized just how much it would change everything.

The city was too quiet for a night like this.

Heeseung swore he could hear every individual heartbeat in the streets, the flickering of neon signs, the hushed voices of people far away. But none of it mattered—because the only thing he could focus on was you.

Your body lay limp in his arms, blood staining the concrete beneath you.

His mind had yet to catch up. One moment, you were by his side, laughing as you teased him about his cold hands, his sharp eyes, the way he always disappeared when the moon was high. The next? You were bleeding out in his arms, your breath fading, heartbeat slowing.

“No, no, no—stay with me, baby, please!” Heeseung begged, pressing his hand against your wound as if that could stop the inevitable. The thick scent of blood filled the air, mixing with the rain that had started to fall, soaking through his clothes.

Your lips curled into a weak smile, your fingers barely gripping his wrist. “Hee…”

“Don’t talk—just hold on, okay? I’ll get help, I swear, just—” His voice cracked, chest heaving as he tried to think, tried to fix this. But deep down, he knew. He had seen death before. He had delivered it himself.

And he knew the signs. You were slipping away.

Tears burned his eyes. “No, please—I can’t lose you.”

Your fingers weakly reached for his face, brushing against his cheek. “It’s okay…” you whispered, breath barely there. “Don’t cry.”

Heeseung felt something inside him snap. Don’t cry? How could he not?

You were dying. And it was his fault.

He should have never let you get involved with him. He should have never let himself love you.

But he did. God, he did. And now you were slipping through his fingers like sand, like a fragile thing he could never truly hold onto.

Unless…

His entire body tensed.

The thought had always been there, lurking in the back of his mind, haunting him. He could turn you. Give you eternity.

But he had sworn never to do that to you.

Heeseung had spent centuries hating what he was. He never wanted that life for you—the hunger, the loneliness, the darkness.

But now? Now, he had to make a choice.

And losing you? That wasn’t an option.

His grip on you tightened. His breath came out in a shudder.

"I'm sorry, baby."

Before you could question it, Heeseung leaned in—and bit.

The moment his fangs pierced your skin, your body jerked, a strangled gasp escaping your lips. The venom rushed through your veins, sharp and burning, igniting a fire that spread through every nerve in your body.

Heeseung held you tight, whispering apologies, begging you to hold on.

"You're gonna be okay," he murmured against your neck. "I swear—just hold on for me."

Your heartbeat stuttered. Slowed.

And then—

Silence.

Heeseung froze. Too late.

He pulled back, his entire body trembling as he stared down at you. Your skin was paler now, your lips parted, eyes closed. No breath. No heartbeat.

"No," he choked out. "No, no, no—wake up, baby, please!"

But you didn't move.

His world tilted, crashing around him. Had he lost you anyway? Had he been too late?

His hands shook as he cupped your face. "Come back to me," he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. "Please, don't leave me alone."

Then—

A sharp gasp.

Your eyes flew open—but they weren’t the same.

They glowed red.

Heeseung exhaled a shaky breath. Relief flooded him, mixing with something deeper—something darker.

You were alive. You were his.

But this was only the beginning.

The Transformation – Pain & Hunger

At first, it felt like fire. Like your entire body was being torn apart and rebuilt from the inside.

You had no control over the spasms that wrecked through you, your fingers clawing at the floor, your back arching as the venom consumed you. It hurt. It hurt so much.

And Heeseung could do nothing but watch.

He held you, whispering soft comforts, but he knew there was nothing that could ease this pain. It was a rebirth—a violent, merciless one.

Hours passed. Maybe days. Time lost all meaning as you lay there, caught in the storm of transformation.

And then, finally—stillness.

Your breath evened. The fire dimmed.

And when you finally met Heeseung's gaze, it felt like you were seeing the world for the first time.

Colors were brighter. Sounds sharper. You could hear the shift in Heeseung’s breathing, the way his fingers twitched slightly against his knee. You could smell the rain, the lingering blood in the air, the faint scent of vanilla that clung to Heeseung's skin.

And beneath it all—you could feel hunger.

It gnawed at you, an aching emptiness curling in your stomach. Overwhelming. Desperate.

You jolted forward, eyes wild. "I need—"

Heeseung was already there, pressing a warm cup into your hands.

"Drink," he said softly.

You hesitated—but the hunger was unbearable. The moment the thick, crimson liquid touched your lips, you knew you’d never be the same again.

Adjusting to Immortality – Love, Fear, and Possessiveness

The nights after your transformation were the hardest.

You couldn't trust yourself. The hunger was always there, always gnawing at the edges of your control. There were moments when you hated what you'd become—moments when you blamed Heeseung.

But Heeseung? He never left your side.

"You’ll get used to it," he murmured, brushing his thumb over your cheek. "I know it’s hard, baby, but you’re not alone."

And you weren't.

Heeseung was there for every stumble, every moment of weakness. He taught you control, guided you through the darkness.

But there were also nights when Heeseung looked at you differently.

Like he was afraid.

Like he had turned you into something he couldn't control.

Or maybe, just maybe—like he was afraid you'd leave him.

Because now, you had eternity.

And Heeseung knew better than anyone—eternity could be a curse.

Final Scene – A Love That Lasts Beyond Death

One night, as the stars stretched endless above you, you turned to Heeseung.

"Do you regret it?" you asked softly. "Turning me?"

Heeseung was silent for a long moment. Then, he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your temple.

"I regret not doing it sooner."

And in that moment, as his arms tightened around you, you realized—

Maybe eternity wouldn't be so bad.

Not if you had him.

The End.

257 notes · View notes

awordsmith · 1 month ago

Text

sit with me 𝜗𝜚 r. spencer

after having a multitude of chance encounters with Spencer–the one time he catches you crying, he obviously has to make your day better even if that merely means sitting with you in silence on a terrace.

who? spencer reid x unknown!reader when? s13 genre: fluff (comfort) content warning: designer!reader, house flooding-loss of found family-dead dad-distant mom, proofed as always, reid with warmth !! word count: 8.1k a/n: well, i honestly didn't know if i'd make it this far, but i suppose i fell in love with this short story anyway. . .enjoy !!

Nearly colliding with the security guard to your right, you checked your watch, then apologized. You were late–your boss was going to kill you. You didn’t have time to think of who you bumped into or who you pissed off. It wasn’t your fault, you’d defend, it was the idiot intern! Honestly, how did she not think the designs discarded by the head designer of your brand would still be significant?

It was the first thing you told everyone who stepped through those doors–come to you before throwing anything away. Ugh–and now you were going to be in more trouble than you’d ever been in before because no one under your supervision had ever effed up this hard!

You would have to fire her–your heart sank–would you even be able to fire people after this? Not if I don’t make it on the stupid plane!

Your mind was running at the speed of who knew what momentum, “AH–” your head slammed into a body. You felt like crying, the sketchbook fell to the floor–you felt water pooling in your eyes. You took a breath, trying to keep it together. Your head tilted upward, and you took three deep breaths, swallowing the meltdown you wanted to have.

“Are you…okay?” You ignored whoever spoke, you just needed a second–just a second to yourself, to plan out different jobs you could apply for if you did get fired. “Uhm, hello?”

Angrily, your eyes pried open, “What? Can’t you see I’m in a midlife crisis?”

“I…” you turned away, ignoring the desperate regards of the stranger in front of you. Okay, let’s go. You spun around and meant to walk around the person who was still annoyingly in your way. You met his stare, he looked a bit uncomfortable and it took everything in you not to blow up in his face. “You dropped this…”

Your gaze dropped to the book in his hand, it hadn’t been damaged–thank God, tears sprang into your eyes again and you had to force them back into your body by fanning out your probably flustered face.

“I don’t know what’s wrong, but you seem like you’re in a hurry,” he scratched the back of his head, “do you…need some water?”

You reevaluated the situation, apologizing would be the most logical thing to do, but–you checked your wrist watch– “I’m gonna be late!”

You snatched the sketch pad out of his hand–no longer hanging on the edge of a breakdown you didn’t have time for–and gripped your suitcase handle, “Thank you, stranger, and I’m sorry!”

Spencer swallowed, flexing the hand he’d held the sketch pad in. The woman–she’d looked familiar. He couldn’t quite place her, which was odd because Spencer could typically place anyone; perhaps he was still in shock from his back getting shanked by a head.

He watched the woman disappear, her red pumps click-clacking at an increased pace as she stormed through the crowds. A little smile fell to his lips, “That was…something…”

“Hey, Spencer, you ready?” Spencer’s mom walked out of the gift shop across from him.

“Yeah,” he grabbed his own luggage and began pulling it along, “come on, we can get food on the way home.”

“That sounds nice,” she smiled, patting, then rubbing his arm.

You, on the other hand, just made it onto the plane. You wanted to cry out in relief, but your mission wasn’t done. You had a stewardess put your things at the top of your seat in first class because you had to calm yourself before facing off with your boss, though you didn’t have much time.

You–again–lifted your head and closed your eyes, trying to control your breathing. You gripped the sketch pad in your hands and held it to your chest. You had done it. You had saved the day once again, because if you weren’t fixing your problems, you were fixing someone else's. Though you supposed that it just came with your position.

You were an assistant lead designer, and right above you was the star of it all–your boss. In your world, you were at the top, or rather right below it–but you were up there–and a lot of people hated you for it. Not just because of your age, but because you were good at your job.

You had decided from the moment you were offered the position that no one would take it away from you, and for that to never happen, nothing under your watch could ever go wrong; though your team had made some minor errors in the past, they were all quickly fixable and within the time limit you had given them.

This: Losing a sketchbook–this could never happen again. It was the first year you’d taken on an intern at the urging of your boss, typically before you hired someone, you put them through trial runs for minor products, and depending on how serious they took those jobs would give you an estimate on how well they would be at a full-time position within your brand.

You were always careful and only hired a handful of people at a time; your employees had a three-strike rule, you’d developed it in your first year running things. You had your small team that worked closely with you and your boss, but you also managed a larger team of executives for different branches of the brand. It was your job to oversee everything and everyone at all hours.

Your job was to make sure everything went smoothly and for the past ten years, you’d gotten pretty damn good at it–you were just glad you hadn’t blown it all now.

You pushed passed the curtains and stepped into first class, approaching your boss. She waved, her long, sleek mousy-brown hair was pinned back with bobby pins. “I thought you weren’t going to make it.” You chuckled nervously, “I should have known you wouldn’t let me down.

“Of course not, have you met me?” You joked, taking your seat.

“What’s that in your hands?”

“This? Oh, it’s the sketches you didn’t like. The new intern threw it away by accident.” You rolled your eyes, quoting the word accident with your hands.

“No?”

“Yes! I don’t even know how it got into her hands in the first place, I’ve told them a million and one times–”

She murmured your name, “You know what, it’s fine. You solved it, like you always do–why don’t we sit back and enjoy our flight? The Lord knows it’s going to be a long one.” She accepted a glass of wine from the stewardess passing by.

You were on your way to Paris to design outfits for a new time-period show–well your boss was, but that was the good part about knowing someone for so long, they trusted you–and your boss always gave you a bit of room to work you magic–you were hoping to become her successor.

“You know what? You’re right.” Your hands wrapped around another glass–pleased that your job was still safe and very much yours. You cheered with her, forgetting all about the man you’d crashed into just moments prior.

You unbuckled your seatbelt and stretched; your boss would stay in Paris for a few more days to relax, but your job was done, and you were set to go home–that had been yesterday.

You collected your things with the help of the stewardess, you paused, her outfit–it crossed your mind a multitude of times that flight attendants had the most unique uniforms and their outfits had definitely been ones to which a variety of times across generations.

“Miss?”

You dropped your hand, eyes refocusing on the eyes of the woman, “Oh, I am so sorry, but…” you bit your lip, wondering if you should ask. It’d make for one hell of a piece in a new line your boss had given you free rein on. “I’m sorry, but I have an odd question…”

“Oh…go on.” She was too nice.

“Well…do you need to fly anytime soon, or do you have some free time?”

“I’m…I think,” she glanced behind her, “I think I have some time.”

She looked young, definitely younger than you, but by how much you couldn’t be sure. “Then, would you mind modeling for me? I mean, of course you don’t have to, but your uniform…it’s… inspiring,” you knew that sounded incredibly weird, but it was the first word that came to mind.

She fiddled with her fingers, “Are you some kind of designer?”

You nearly scoffed, were you some kind of–you were one of the best designers in the world.

Okay, perhaps that was a stretch, but you worked for one of the best designers of all time and this year she was allowing you to craft your own line using all of her resources. It was the chance of a lifetime, and you couldn’t blow it.

“You could say that,” you settled for and slipped her a business card.

She stared at it, reading it over and over again. You watched realization wash over her–to say it didn’t fuel your pride would be a lie–she had a gorgeous figure and wouldn’t it just be the icing on the cake if she walked the runway with the outfit inspired by her old uniform?

You checked your watch, you needed to get home–you paused, pulling your phone out of your pocket when a notification came through–oh, this was not good. Your face soured. “Something wrong?” She frowned, tilting her head.

“Uh–just something from the office, listen,” you slipped your phone back into your pocket, “I have to go, but if you’re interested, you have my number and my email.”

You did your finest to stay composed as you exited the plane, and you were very graceful–if you do say so yourself–entering the airport, however, once inside, it was go time.

That notification hadn’t been the office, they weren’t expecting you back until tomorrow and though your employees knew they had to run everything by you, they also knew not to call you on your days off, especially when you just got back seeing as–oh there it is–you get jet lag.

You had to keep it together until you got in the cab, just as it had been last week, your right hand gripped the handle of your suitcase and hauled it down the hall. You had to find your duffle first! You headed for the baggage cart, eyes trailing the line. There! You ran for it– “OW–”

You whimpered. Why was this always happening to you? “I-I’m so sorry, but you–

“Me!?” You stepped back, angrily looking up at the man whose head you’d hit with your own.

“You…came out of nowhere!” He squeaked.

Hold on–you knew this guy. “It’s you!”

“It’s you!” His voice went up, as if he were more nervous than you were angry.

You huffed, but then your eyes caught on your dufflebag, escaping you. You ran for it, leaving your suitcase behind. The guy chased after you, “quit following me!”

“What!?” He screamed, shuddering under the gaze of the nearest security guard. You snatched up your simple, black bag, watching him reach for a very…unique bag–the one that had been sitting beside yours.

You paused, eyeing his frame, his eyebrows scrunched together, and in turn, you raised a single brow, “interesting taster….” you eyed him up and down, “didn’t take you for the type…”

He glanced down at the sparkly purple, unicorn-covered duffle. You snorted when he jumped back, “What? No–this, this isn’t–it’s…my friends.”

“Don’t be embarrassed, men in touch with their femininity is great, really…” you walked back over to your suitcase and settled the bag on top of it.

“It is!” He insisted, “I’m picking it up for her!”

“Uh huh,” you glanced at the clock on your phone again, sighing.

“Something wrong?”

You shook your head, “It’s nothing I can’t fix.”

“Hmm.”

You made a face, “Did you just ‘hmm’ me?”

“What is that a bad thing?” He huffed a laugh.

Your eyes narrowed and for the first time, you took a moment to look–really look–at the stranger whom you seemingly kept crossing paths with.

His hair was grown out, it looked soft to the touch, he had a bit of stubble, and his eyes–you shivered. You could get lost in those eyes. You didn’t want to think about why they seemed to hold so much and yet show so little.

You ou forced yourself to look away, clearing your throat before saying, “I suppose it doesn’t matter. Does it, Stranger?”

You could feel the heaviness of his gaze–as if someone had dropped hot coals in your stomach. Your cheeks darken–now you really had to avoid his eyes, he would know instantly, and though he couldn’t be much older than you, you didn’t want to feel embarrassed–you let your eyes drift back to his body slightly…AH, what were you doing!?

You shifted your stance and turned away from him completely, “well, it was uhm…nice bumping into you…again.” Not by choice, but hey?

He nodded, though you couldn’t see it, “Right, good bye… Stranger.”

“Good bye, Stranger.” For good.

“Oh, uhm,” he held up the bag, “it’s really not mine.”

You tried to hold in a snicker, but your trembling body gave you away, and you couldn’t help but turn around for a split second to give him a disbelieving look.

Spencer sighed as he watched the same woman walk away from him again. His eyes were drawn to her feet–well, her shoes, she was wearing those same red pumps he’d remembered her wearing that same day. They fit her well, “It’s not!”

Spencer sighed, jumping when he heard, “Spencer, you got my bag for me!”

Penelope came flying toward him in a jumble of colors, “h-hey,” he laughed, pulling her in for a hug, “how was the trip?”

“I’ll tell you about it in the cab, come on,” she motioned him forward with her hand, though as much as he wanted to hear about Penelope's time in Europe, his mind drifted back to the stranger in the red pumps he kept bumping into.

Against his logic, he imagined what it would be like to meet her again, preferably somewhere less crowded, with less noise–somewhere they could have a real conversation where maybe they weren’t colliding into each other at every angle.

That was crazy, he knew the percentage of meeting a stranger twice was low, so the possibility of meeting them a third time?

He decided he wouldn’t think about it…that was the best thing to do, seeing as he’d never see her again. Spencer knew he was a genius; people often told him so and referred to him as such, but Spencer also knew no person–matter how smart they were or how hard they tried–had any control over their subconscious.

You were a ball of giddiness up until you arrived at your apartment. You let out a whine as you stepped out of the cab. The landlord and a few of your neighbors were crowded in a circle out front. You noted Old Cat Man and Mean Rich Lady, with a grimace, you approached them, your shoes clicking and clacking on the stony pavement.

“It’s true then, you weren’t messing with me?”

Your landlord turned toward you, signing, “I’m sorry, I just got the call this morning, the entire thing is flooded.”

“So there’s absolutely no way I can get my things?”

“I’m so sorry,” he shook his head.

“Speak for yourself, I’m going back in there.” Mean Rich Lady spat, you rolled your eyes.

“Always looking to pick a fight.”

“Come on, you two! Don’t argue at a time like this,” Old Cat Man intervened, holding his precious ball of fur.

You grinned at it, your voice going high, “Aww, aren’t you just a cute little thing, Claude!” Old Cat Man stretched out his arms. You took up Claude and began petting him, turning back to your landlord after Mean Rich Lady harumphed.

“Are we at least getting compensated?” One of your neighbors–she lived on the first floor with her son, who was more than likely at school right now–asked.

A few others began agreeing with her. Your landlord tried to calm everyone down, saying he would talk to the owners about it. Of course, you wanted to know when that would be. This was insane. How does this even happen? It seemed like your days went from worse to good to amazing to good to horrible!

You felt like screaming into a black hole, and though you would settle for a pillow, you couldn’t because your things were inside the flooded complex! You began texting your right-hand assistant, you were more than likely not going to be heading into work tomorrow.

Two days later, you were exiting a cab and standing across the street from your new possible home. The owners of your old complex had assured your landlord and the rest of their inhabitants that they were going to compensate everyone with a hefty settlement.

All your things–your clothing, your furniture, your bedding, your paintings–did they know how much you’d spent at the auction in New York for that one-of-a-kind Marcel–Béronneau? You had cried several times the day before, mostly about that painting. It was beautiful, but more importantly, the most expensive thing you owned!

Needless to say, their settlement with you was well over what you had spent on Ondine. Now, you were staying at a 5-star hotel with a bit of the settlement as you scoured for a new place.

You smiled, looking up at the complex–it was more of a small neighborhood, gated and secure. You crossed the street, passing folks who looked well enough. A doorman undid a red rope and let you through the doors.

He was dressed in what at first appeared to be modest clothing–but you’d know that uniform anywhere–you’d helped design it. Your red pumps clicked across the man-made gray wood flooring. A backless couch sat in front of the doors against the matching gray walls. It took on a shade darker than everything else, though, and looked incredibly comfortable with those three small throw pillows–but that wasn’t what you were here to study.

“Hello, can I help you?” The receptionist smiled. He was dressed as well as the doorman, you admired the uniform appreciatively.

You had to wash and rewear the clothes you’d had in your suitcase; you wouldn’t have minded if they were casual work clothes, but you worked in the fashion industry, not to mention you had packed for Spring in Paris. You looked pretty idiotic in a raincoat, but it was the only jacket you had unless you wanted to overheat in your Saint Laurent coat.

Needless to say, your outfits weren’t…tame. You’d been trying to do your best to stay up with work while trying to rebuild your life–not your best moments, oh to be sure–and it left you with no time to go shopping. You needed a permanent place now. You were trying to fix everything within a few days, and still your team needed you. So far, none of the apartments had yet grabbed your eye, you were hoping this would be your final destination and not just another pitstop.

“Yes, I have an appointment with a woman…sorry her name slips my mind at the moment…I’m looking at the latest apartment on the 4th floor?”

“Ah,” he nodded, typing into his computer, “yes, of course, she said you would be coming in–so I’ve been expecting you,” he flashed a friendly smile, “I’ll call her down right away–” he picked up a black office phone and began dialing.

“Thank you, I can go wait over there,” you motioned toward the couch.

He nodded and covered the phone with his hand, “if theres anything you need–anythign at all, just ask me.”

Genuine happiness lifted your mood, “thank you so much!” You spun around and headed back toward the couch, deciding to answer a few emails to pass the time, then–as promised–the leasing agent you were meeting with stepped out of the elevator almost five minutes later.

You shook hands and introduced yourself, expressing how ready you were to find a home because of what had happened. “I know the feeling.” She said, clicking the 4th-floor button on the elevator.

“You’ve had your house flooded while you were on vacation before?” Your eyebrows raised.

She laughed, “Oh no, but my ex-husband had his apartment flooded just last year. I offered to let him stay with me,” she waved her hand, showing off the newly attached ring. Hmm, it looked brand new. “But he said it’d be awkward with you know...”

“No, but I wish I did,” you joked, “may I?”

“Uh, sure,” she held out her hand. You inspected the ring closely, but you didn’t have great light, though something about it–perhaps it was a gut feeling, you could tell it was real. He must have had money if he was willing to spend over 5k on an engagement ring.

You shook your head, “It’s darling.”

Her tanned face turned a bit red, “Thank you, he let me pick it out.”

And courteous, God, when were you going to find a man like that? You sighed, eyes falling to her face once more, she was around your age, you wondered how long her last marriage was, and how old she married. A soft frown fell to your lips, thinking of your situation compared to others your age, you weren’t doing too well in the love department.

No, it doesn’t matter, marriage wasn’t for you. You knew that….but it did bother you, something heavy sat within your chest…something like… regret.

A sigh escaped you, and you shook your head. Right now, you needed to focus on getting a new place so you could begin moving things in, you missed sleeping in your own bed, though that bed was likely still incredibly soaked in some dumpyard right about now.

“Wait, so–let me get this straight–Matt held his hand up, “you keep bumping into the same gorgeous woman with these red heels and…what? You haven’t asked her out?”

“It’s not that simple,” Spencer huffed, “she’s…seems…I don’t know.”

“And you didn’t get a good look at her?” Luke turned to Penelope.

“I–I didn’t even know there was a her! Not until this one,” she smacked Spencer, who winced, “told me in the car!”

“Eh–to be fair, I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.” He scratched the nape of his neck.

“Oh. My. God.” She threw her hands up, then lowered her head and whined, “You’re a lost cause.”

“This is great,” Luke laughed.

“What are we talking about?” JJ seated herself on top of Spencer’s desk. He glanced at her, but it was Matt who answered.

“Spencer met this girl at the airport–”

“–twice–” Luke added.

“And he didn’t ask her out.”

“It’s nothing,” he shook his head, seemingly trying to brush it off.

“Wha–I wouldn’t call it nothing!” Penelope squeaked.

“I’d call it fate.” Luke’s amusement didn’t escape Spencer.

“Yeah right,” he snorted, averting his gaze to the floor, the image of her red pumps coming running through his head. They drew his attention–he’d fallen asleep the past two nights at the memory of them shuffling away from him. He’d even had a miniscule daydream of meeting that woman again–but that was delusional, even for Spencer. “I don’t even know her name.”

“Well then, get her name, and then do something with it.” Matt egged.

“What like…ask her out?”

“Uh…yeah,” the group laughed at Luke’s comedic timing; Spencer was the only one who stayed silent.

“It’s unlikely I’m ever going to see her again. The probability–”

“–with the streak you have going on?” Emily walked over with her cup, her nose scrunched and her lips pressed together, “I think you’re gonna see her again… Sorry,” she shrugged, “I was eavesdropping.”

Spencer didn’t know about that. He didn’t have any plans at the airport, and it was unlikely she stayed in one place for long; if his memory served correctly, she’d been in a rush both times they’d bumped–or rather crashed–into each other.

He let out an exasperated sigh, it was bothering him a bit. She was quite the character. Slowly, a small smile developed. He wondered what he would say if he bumped into her again–preferably not in an airport with so much noise.

Though he knew wishing for something like that was dumb and that was not how the world worked–and he couldn’t very well go to the airport just to wait to bump into her. Firstly, that’d be weird. Secondly, Spencer didn’t have the time, “Alright, let’s go, we have a case.” Emily chirped.

Of course, they did–but Spencer wasn’t complaining, he just couldn’t get the thought of her out of his head, and he hoped it wouldn’t tarnish the way his brain worked.

Spencer huffed a sigh, checking the time on his phone, he was almost home–the rest of the team had gone for drinks, but he didn’t feel like it tonight. It’d been three days, and granted he’d been in another state, but he’d half-expect to bump into her even then.

He shoved his phone back into his pocket, pausing when his stomach growled. He snorted when he looked to his right, catching sight of a convenience store. It was late and a cab had dropped him off about a mile from his complex; he’d wanted to walk. The night was warmer than usual, though that was to be expected; it was Spring, and April was just next week.

He glanced once more at the convenience store, wondering if he should just brave the rest of the journey home. Spencer's breath caught in his throat–his eyes tracked red pumps through the blurry store window, he’d know those shoes anywhere.

He didn’t even think to hesitate before pulling open the door, the blue windchimes above it whistling in the slight breeze. The store was quiet and the lights were dim. There was no one at the counter, but he heard her shoes clicking across the old tile floors.

He followed the sound, rounding a large corner, and there she was, eyeing up the last chillidog, her mouth visibly watered, and Spencer had to turn around before he laughed at her outright and she took offense. She noticed him anyway, stumbling back at the sight.

“You!” She jabbed a finger toward him.

A cheeky smile tugged at his mouth, the murky glow of the shop blinding him in his tiredness, “me!” he threw his hands up in mock cheer.

She rolled her eyes, a slight smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing, he took in her fancy clothes, raising a brow at her feet, “are those the only pair of shoes you own?”

She glanced down, wincing. “It’s a long story, but I’m working on reestablishing my footwear.”

He nodded, wondering how to continue the conversation without sounding awkward. “So…you live around here?”

“Not yet,” she smiled, “but I just put a down payment on a pretty nice apartment.”

“Oh,” he nodded, “why the sudden move?” Was that a creepy thing to ask? He didn’t think so.

“Well,” she grabbed the chillidog and brought it to the counter. Spencer, on instinct, grabbed the first thing he saw, an egg salad sandwich. It wasn’t the best thing he could eat, but then again, he wasn’t in prison anymore, and anything was better than prison food. “It’s kind of the same explanation for my particular choice in shoes these days.”

Spencer’s mind went through a billion possibilities as she paid for her food with a cashier that seemed to materialize behind the counter. “Did all of your things get stolen?” He took in her appearance once more–maybe she was some super-rich lady he’d seen in one of JJ's gossip magazines.

Thanking the cashier for his change and slipping it into his satchel, Spencer turned toward the nameless woman again. “I guess you could say that,” she wagged a finger, “if you count water as the thief.”

His eyes widned, “I’m sorry, that sucks.”

“Yeah, well,” she shrugged, “what are you gonna do? On the bright side, my apartment isn’t too far from my job and it’s really nice–it was the last one on the listing, I’m glad I snatched it up.”

“Huh,” he sucked on his cheek, following her out of the store, her shoes drawing his attention as they made a sound he didn’t know how to describe other than relaxing. “What’s the name of the complex?”

She threw him a long look that said “okay stalker”, but he could tell she was definitely just teasing. “It’s actually,” she said, pointing across the street, “that one.”

Fire lit up Spencer’s skin. “Are you sure?”

“Yep,” she nodded, “but the Airbnb I’m staying at until the flat is ready for me to move in is this way,” she jabbed a finger in the opposite direction.

Spencer frowned. It was late, and though it didn’t feel like a scary night, he felt he shouldn’t let her walk alone. “You okay walking back by yourself?”

He didn’t know why he expected her to say no; of course, she would say yes, she’d feel awkward about it. And isn’t this how the start of every serial killer flick began? Not to mention the actual stories that started like this. Spencer pursed his lips, not wanting to be pushy, but also not wanting to let her go. “Are you sure? I really don’t mind.” If she said no this time, he would accept it.

However, this time, she said, “You know what? Why not?” Relief flooded his system, “as long as you’re not a serial killer of anything.”

Spencer nearly choked on his one saliva, “No–no, of course not!” He didn’t know if he sounded or looked convincing enough, and upon thinking that, he wanted to claw his eyes out because isn’t that exactly what a serial killer would be worried about?

Spencer walked her to her Airbnb, doing his absolute best not to give off creepy-stalker-killer vibes. He went on a tangent about random facts that came to his mind. In between his thoughts and rambling, he noted the subtle way in which he found her addicting.

She was beautiful, but it was mostly the way she asked questions or asked him to specify something more rather than shutting him down.

“Uhm, I thought I should let you know,” he paused just before she unlocked the door. That complex you’re moving into: I live there.”

A small grin floated around her face, “I figured.” Spencer didn’t get much of a chance to reply as his mind went blank, “So, maybe…” She looked away, and Spencer could see the dilemma working its way around her mind.

He pretended to be patient. He didn’t want to scare her off into changing her mind.

She took a breath and slid her phone from her pants pocket. Spencer watched as she typed in her password; his eyebrows shot up when she spun the phone toward his face. A white screen with a set of numbers at the bottom, “Do you think I could get your number…” Her hand trembled, and Spencer thought it was cute. “You know, since we’re going to be neighbors and all,” it was an excuse; he flushed at her nervousness.

Though the number of girls that approached him had grown steadily over the years, he still grew slightly awkward when someone as pretty looked nervous around him. He cleared his throat and averted his gaze, “Yeah, sure, if we’re going to see each other again anyway.”

He took her phone and typed in his number, noting the way his hands shook–gosh, was he sweating? He handed her phone back, “Uhm, I’m — by the way…”

“Spencer,” he murmured, taking a step back.

“It’s nice to officially meet you, Spencer.” Her genuine smile had Spencer’s heart leaping in his chest. “And…” she glanced away, “…sorry about the times before, I wasn’t…that isn’t me, the first time I was freaking because my intern had tossed a very important sketchbook and I aomsot missed the plane because of it–the second time–”

Spencer held up his hand, “You don’t have to explain yourself…really–I–” he stuffed his hands in his pockets and reassessed her, “I believe you.”

She let out a sigh in what seemed like relief. “Alright, then,” she stuck out her hand, “thank you for walking me home–kind of.” She glanced at the Airbnb.

“No problem,” Spencer smiled. With one last wave goodbye, she spun around, unlocked the door, and slipped inside. She’s…Spencer chuckled at himself shook his head, he didn’t want to analyze and break down her character. He felt he should get to know her like a normal person would, if they were going to be neighbors after all.

He wondered what his welcome gift should be. Maybe a new pair of shoes?

The elevator dinged before its doors opened. Today was Move-In Day; you texted Spencer about it, but he hadn’t responded. It plagued you–being left on delivery. You tried not to let it ruin your mood, but you couldn’t help checking your phone every five minutes to see if he had responded.

You instructed two of the moving professionals you’d hired to carry the larger boxes up to your space as you took on the lighter and fragile boxes–too cautious to allow anyone else to carry them. They led you into the hallways, but you paused halfway down the floor.

They halted and glanced back questingly, “Oh, you’re fine, I just need to respond to this,” you waved your free hand in front of you.

With a tight nod, they proceeded down the hall. You crouched, setting the box beside your feet and pulling out your phone. Your heart shot through your chest, and electricity ran up your spine, which was incredibly childish considering you were nearing 30–but regardless, you clicked open the message, heat rushing to your cheeks as your eyes took in Spencer's reply.

Happy Move-In Day! I’ll be home later tonight, so I can stop by if you want.

Yes! Yes! Yes! “Eeeeeee,” your squeal bounced off the walls, and a flush darkened your cheeks.

I’d love that, actually!

His reply was immediate, Great see you later tonight!

You slid your phone back in your pocket and stood. Your eyes fluttered shut and you took a calming breath, then you shook your body, arms flailing, an attempt to cast away all the jitters running through your nervous system.

Five minutes later, you were heading down the hall again, box in hand. You kicked the slightly ajar door further open. “There you are.” One of the movers stepped forward. You set the box on the floor, eyes drifting toward the beautiful beige box on the bar table, a small, cremé envelope tucked snugly between the red, silk bow. “This was sitting at the front door when we arrived.”

You headed for it, your lips pursing, you’d only told one person your new apartment number. The envelope was hard; it looked expensive, like the invitations your boss received for fashion shows and galas.

To: —

From: Stranger

The bold, calligraphy looked handwritten. You ripped open the box you’d been carrying and yanked out your letter opener, peeling the envelope open swiftly. The movers headed back out, saying they’d be back up with more boxes.

You took a seat in one of the stools and pulled out the decorative paper, setting the envelope and letter opener aside.

Dear, —

I know you’re going to laugh at this, but that’s the point, I hope it makes having to move a bit better

- S. Reid

You set the letter aside and grabbed your phone again, your fingers flying across the keyboard. You hit send, watching the message, your bottom lip between your teeth.

The ribbon came undone with a simple tug, the box lifted easily, and the glittery paper peeled back with no trouble at all. Your eyes caught on the shoes, wine red ballet flats–another, shorter note inside.

I know how much you like this color.

They were gorgeous–but you were confused. The buds of your fingers trailed over the brown leather inside the shoe, finding the size–how did he know? Stalker. You snickered at the thought. He probably estimated or something.

Spencer rushed home. He wanted to see her.

After the text she’d sent him, his stomach felt lighter, and he felt like he might throw up on the jet ride back. Rossi had said it was butterflies, but Alvez shook his head, claiming men don’t get butterflies, they get sucker-punched, but Spencer hadn’t known if either of them was right.

The best way he could describe how he felt was sick–but sick with happiness, not disease. It was illogical for someone to be so excited to see another person–a person whom they’d only had three encounters with, but something in Spencer felt a pull, a tug. He wondered if he’d never bumped into her–or rather if she’d never bulldozed him down at the airport, would they have met another way?

Perhaps, rather than noting her red heels, his hunger would have gotten the better of him, and he would have bumped into her for the first time in the convenience store, or maybe they would have met in the elevator of the complex they now both lived in. Spencer didn’t believe in soulmates; he loved the idea of it, and he could discuss theories of the red string theory just as much as he could any other philosopher's work, but this was…he didn’t know what.

He could explain scientific and mathematical equations, he could explain why the sun rises in the east and sets in the west; he could even explain the meaning behind some of the most intricate literature, but he could not explain why he felt this pull toward her.

Coconut wafted through his nostrils, but he paid the air freshener the lobby's staff had just replaced not much mind, his thoughts competing against his heart to see which could break him first. He loosened his tie, he would drop his stuff off at his apartment first, then head straight to her floor. She lived on the last floor, Room 40.

It felt like an eternity, but he wanted to look and smell his best, so doing what he’d never thought to do–ever–he unboxed the cologne Morgan had gifted him winters ago, and spritzed it around him twice. He coughed and waved his hand away, but as the smell flooded him, it was strong but subtle.

He hummed, checking the bottle, not bad, Morgan.

Seconds later, he was out the door and chasing down the elevator.

There was this sudden realization. You would no longer get into fights with the mean, old, rich lady from down the hall. You would never pet the cat, the calm old man let out every once in a while. You would never wake up in the middle of the night to classical music because the couple next door loved to relive their first dance at 3 in the morning.

As much as you bickered with he old lady and cursed the couple for choosing such an early hour, you were sad to know you’d never see them again. You thought of your downstairs neighbor's boy, whom you all took turns watching when his mother had work.

It had become somewhat of a routine for you, somewhat like a family–and the holidays you’d shared with them–even though Mean Rich Lady always nagged at your cooking, you had come to see them as family.

This was your first night in a new palace, and you were alone. No old lady to pick a fight with, no couple to force you awake, and no old man with a cat to pet. You hadn’t even said goodbye, you’d just…left.

Tears fell with a single breath. You felt enclosed, and you had to go somewhere to breathe. You thought to call one of them, but they were probably doing their own things, though it just felt wrong to be somewhere they weren’t. For years, they annoyed and loved you, despite your flaws and despite theirs, you had grown attached to their comforting smiles and manners.

You slipped on the new flats–you felt sick to your stomach, like you were going to puke. You wanted to be held, you wanted to cry until firm arms wrapped around you and hot breaths hit your neck, until a murmur whispered against your ear that it was okay and that you were an adult and could handle this.

You thought to call your mother, but she was no doubt asleep, your father had passed a few years ago–in fact that had been the last time you’d seen your mother, you texted her sometimes, but waking her up in the middle of the night seemed…foreign to the distant relationship you had grown to know.

The cool breeze hit your skin as you burst through the terrace door. City lights pulled you toward the shoulder; it was all concrete, and there were a few chairs spread out across and a single table. A new, silver barbecue sat in the corner, a charcoal bag leaned against it, the top slightly folded, indicating its use.

You perched on the shoulder of the terrace, overlooking the city, your eyes snagged on the center of the landscape, where most of the lights were brighter. You’d calmed down to a sniffle when a creak sounded, your head jerked back toward the door, hoping there were no serial killers amongst your new neighbors.

There was nothing, you shivered, another wave of sadness coming over you. Perhaps you just needed a good cry, your anxiety and frustration had been pent up for almost a week now, dealing with coming back from a wonderful trip in Paris to your apartment and almost every single belonging drenched beyond repair.

Your mind had been running at a million miles per second, trying to figure out what you were going to do within the three-day grace period you’d given yourself. Not to mention the new intern stresser right before heading to Paris–you were almost positive you weren’t going to make it on that plane–but it seemed God had bestowed his hand upon you, giving you the most unexpected angel.

Spencer freaked–he was nervous. He knew he wanted to go back out there and comfort her, but as he bit his thumb and paced back and forth in front of the door, knowing she was just on the other side had his stomach in a know. A feeling crept into his stomach; it just didn’t feel like enough.

He snatched his phone from his pocket and typed out a quick message to Penelope, and seconds later Luke was calling him.

“Go out there!” Luke shouted into Spencer's ear, which he instantly regretted positioning close to his ear.

“Be kind,” Lisa seemed to murmur over him.

“I know–” he squeaked, cheeks flushing, “but I don’t–how do I–”

“Just be yourself–what? No–” the last part sounded like it wasn’t meant for Spencer–so he chose to ignore it.

“Okay, but what should I say? She sounded really upset–?”

“Ugh,” Luke’s heavy sigh, “Lisa–”

Lisa’s voice broke through the phone, and it sounded like she was walking, “Don’t go anywhere, Spencer,” she huffed, keys jangling in the back as a door slammed shut, “ I’m bringing you flowers.”

“Flowers?” His eyebrows shot up, and he glanced back at the door as if she might have heard him.

“Trust me, flowers cheer anyone up.” She assured.

Luke took the phone back, the sound of a car starting in the background, “Meet us in front of your apartment; five minutes.”

The line went dead, and Spencer’s breath hitched. He swallowed and stuck a finger in his shirt, tugging it outward, letting the air cool his sweaty limbs. Admittedly, he should have taken a shower first, but he was too…exactic–okay, he needed to go take a shower.

Luke and Lisa raced through the city; apparently, Lisa knew this incredible 24/7 florist. “Are you sure about this?”

Luke turned toward his girlfriend, “Yes!” her voice pitched and she smacked his arm, “Come on Luke, you’re telling me you’ve never given someone flowers?”

“No–that’s not,” he coughed, rearranging his hands on the wheels, “no, look okay–I just–” he cut himself off, watching her face, her kind, caring, beautiful face. He shifted his focus back onto the road, “left or right?”

Lisa snickered, she she took his hand in hers, leaning forward to see the street sign, “straight, turn left at the next light.

You pulled out your phone, recalling how Spencer had said he’d wanted to meet with you–perhaps you could reschedule, you didn’t want to burden him with the responsibility of consoling you.

Huh, that was weird, you checked the time, Spencer had sent a message that you must’ve missed almost an hour ago, it read

On my way home, see you in a bit!

A frown tugged at your lips, your gaze drifted toward the terrace’s entrance. Hmm.

You typed out a message, and after hesitating a moment, hit send.

I’m on the terrace

You began wiping your tears, accepting that he might have seen you weren’t home, saw his text unanswered, and went back to his palace. He’d been gone a few days for work, he was probably tired.

Your face scrunched together even as you tried to suppress the tears–at this point, you weren’t sure what you were crying about anymore; you were just crying.

Your body jerked, and your breath caught in your throat as the terrace door creaked open–revealing a very nervous, very handsome Spencer Reid. As he approached your posture straightened, you fully turned toward him, your knees the same height as his stomach.

“Hey,” you glanced away, trying to calm yourself. You wiped your tears, trying to remain tranquil, pretending like you weren’t just crying. “Are you okay?”

Your lip wobbled, slowly, you lifted your face. He was leaning his elbows on the wall beside you, your eyes drifted down his arms, gosh he smelled good. “I think so…at least I’m trying to be.” You murmured.

“We can talk about it, if you want?” He tried reading your eyes, but he couldn’t. For the first time, Spencer could not analyze a person even thought he so desperatley wished to. “Or we can sit in silence,” he suggested after he realized you’d turned away.

You nodded, your eyes on the lights in front of you. He smiled, nudging you with the bouquet. “What are those for?” You mumbled, palming a blossom, the petals were soft, and you noted the slight blush color of them, “pink roses?”

“The technical term for them is floribundas,” he slid them between the two of you and fingered a petal, “but because floribundas are a variety of different roses, this particular flower is referred to as the candy cane cocktail rose or rosa candy cane.”

You nodded, “They’re gorgeous, do you know what feeling they represent?”

You watched his eyes widen, he opened his mouth before his smile could fully form, “Floribundas can symbolize joy, happiness, and/or beauty. The name floribunda derives from the Latin word “floribundus,” meaning “full of flowers,” which funnily enough aptly describes their bushy growth and abundant clusters of blooms.”

“That’s so sweet,” you smiled, poking him, “thank you–I needed this, I could practically kiss you right now.” He’d taken your mind off everything that might have been plaguing your mind, and now all you could think about were floribundas and the origin of their name.

A sigh fell from your throat and you smiled up at him, frowning when you noted his flushed cheeks.

You bit your bottom lip to keep from smiling, finding the blue and red hues of nightlife before the two of you incredibly cute on him. “I’ll settle for a hug.” You held open your arms.

Spencer swallowed, his eyes tracking down your form, his eyes flashed when he caught the shoes you wore. His lips pursed, and he turned toward you completely. You held your breath as he stepped between your legs, the bouquet momentarily forgotten.

You pulled him closer when his arms tightened around your back. He smelled delectable, but of course you couldn’t just say that, so instead you said, “You smell good.” He leaned back a bit, his frame hovering above yours. Your gaze fell to his lips briefly, but for fear of making him feel weird, you turned your eyes elsewhere. “Thank you again for–”

His breath coated your mouth, you found his stare once more, your breath catching at the sudden warmth his body gave off. “Actually, I’d really like to kiss you too.”

a/n: rollercoaster [bleachers] and willow [taylor swift]

@darkmatilda @theylovemelody @kennedy-brooke @maisyyyyyy

#spencer reid #criminal minds #fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fan fiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #written by katherine #sit with me

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mariespen · 1 month ago

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➸ Parent-Teacher Disaster

Sheriff!Rafe x Teacher!Reader

➸ Masterlist!

Requests open!

When an aggressive parent-teacher conference ruins your night, Rafe is always there to ground you. Warnings: Swearing, panic attack. Hurt/Comfort!

Late nights in your cozy first-grade classroom almost always meant one thing: parent-teacher conferences. Your eyes fought to stay awake as the final group walked in. With a bright, false smile, you greeted Salish and Nevan Hillian, the parents of Noah.

Noah was generally shy and quiet, but he got good grades and interacted well when asked to. In all reality, you weren’t concerned about the meeting.

However, your heart sped up when you noticed their body language—stiff, closed-off, practically radiating irritation.

Hesitantly, you forced your polite facade back on.

“Good evening! I’m Mrs. Cameron, and you must be Salish and Nevan Hillian!” you said, standing up from your desk, reaching out eagerly to shake their hands.

“Mhm.” Salish barely acknowledged you, her grip weak, her expression unreadable.

You swallowed hard, convincing yourself that they were just tired. Maybe they forgot to cancel and begrudgingly showed up anyway.

“Okay! Noah is really doing amazing in class—he’s ahead of the curve and is such a genuine little boy. Is there anything specific you’d like to go over?” You kept your tone professional, graceful, as you all returned to your seats—Salish and Nevan sitting stiffly across from you.

Salish’s lips pursed before she finally spoke, her voice sharp.

“Your methods of teaching are an utter disappointment.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

You sat frozen, stunned, as humiliation crawled up your spine.

“Noah is the smartest kid I’ve ever met in my life, and that’s purely because I made it that way,” she continued, her words laced with condescension. “You have no urgency with his education. He needs to be catered to.”

She was raising her voice now, her tone growing sharper. You struggled to choke back the inevitable tears stinging at your eyes.

“I’m so sorry you’re disappointed in the curriculum, ma’am. However—”

She cut you off with an aggressive flick of her hand.

“Shut up about that. This is your fault.”

A loud thump rang through your ears as she slammed a thick folder onto your desk. Papers spilled out, disorganized, demanding attention.

“Inside here, I have exactly how you should be teaching my son. I made it all myself.” A smirk pulled at her lips, as if she was proud of herself. It made you feel sick. “This is not a suggestion. It’s an expectation.”

You felt paralyzed.

Before you could gather your thoughts, they both stood abruptly. Nevan glanced back at you for a brief second, almost looking apologetic, but Salish was already striding toward the door—leaving him no choice but to follow.

The moment they disappeared, the dam broke.

Tears slipped down your cheeks as you sat frozen, the weight of their words pressing down on your chest. You had held it together as long as you could.

The walk to your car felt endless. The drive home was worse.

By the time you stepped into your house, the familiar silence told you Rafe had already put the kids to bed. A fresh wave of guilt twisted in your stomach. You stopped outside their rooms, listening to the soft sounds of their breathing, grounding yourself in the innocence of their tiny, sleeping forms.

Then, Rafe’s voice called to you.

“Sweetheart?”

You barely had time to process it before your body gave in.

You stepped into your bedroom, shut the door, and felt your bag slip from your shoulder.

“Rafe…” Your voice cracked.

“How was it?” he asked, toothbrush in hand, looking at you through the bathroom mirror.

Your lips parted, but instead of words, a choked sob escaped.

Your knees buckled before you could stop them.

In an instant, Rafe was there, catching you before you hit the floor.

His arms wrapped around you tightly, pulling you close as you broke down in his hold. Your body trembled with sobs, breath uneven, as if the room itself was closing in on you.

“Baby, it’s okay. You’re okay. I got you,” he murmured against your hair, his hands grounding you, his voice steady against the chaos in your mind.

You gasped for air, struggling to match his breathing, but his warmth—his presence—was enough to start pulling you back.

“M’sorry…” you managed to mumble against his chest.

“Don’t,” Rafe said firmly, but gently. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Minutes passed before your breathing slowed, the crushing weight easing just enough. When you finally lifted your head, you realized he had moved you onto the bed, his hands still tangled in your hair.

“Honey, tell me,” he urged softly, wiping stray tears from your cheeks.

“It was my last conference…” Your voice wavered. “They yelled at me, Rafe. Said I was a disappointment. A bad example.”

Rafe tensed immediately. “Fucking assholes.”

A broken laugh slipped past your lips at his instant response.

“I just… I don’t know what to do.” You swallowed hard. “She gave me a whole binder of separate work and concepts to teach Noah.”

Rafe frowned, trying to recall. “Noah? I thought he was doing great?”

“He is! He’s one of my best-performing students. Apparently, that’s not enough.” Your voice cracked again, frustration seeping through.

Rafe huffed, pulling you even closer. “Sweetheart, you’re amazing at what you do. That woman? She’s crazy. You knowyou’re doing the right thing.”

You sniffled, the knot in your throat loosening slightly.

“It’s okay,” Rafe murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “We don’t have to talk. Just rest.”

His fingers played lazily with your hair, his warmth pressing against you like a shield.

And, for the first time that night, you felt safe enough to close your eyes.

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ccazimi · 5 months ago

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Nightingale (pt. 3)

Read pt. 2 and pt. 4

CW: stepcest, dubcon, usage of a suction vibrator, mentions of masturbation, mentions of cucking, dirtytalking, slight exhibitionism? (doing stuff in a room full of other people including parents but no one notices), overstim, unplanned orgasm denial WC: 4.1k a/n: sorry this part isn't as interesting as the other ones haha just had to get it out of my system before i can move onto other ideas so BEAR WITH ME

The stains left behind on your sheets were still quite noticeable even after you tried spraying, soaking, and scrubbing them with cleaning agents meant specifically for these kinds of messes. The blood had tinged every liquid you’d disgracefully released that night with a shade of pink that would make sure they were as evident as possible on the white fabric.

After nothing worked, you'd stripped your futon bare and simply threw them in the washer, telling your mom that you’d accidentally stained it last night in your sleep because of your period. Luckily she remained as clueless as ever, telling you that it was fine and she’d get new ones.

Maybe a bit too clueless because you absolutely wanted to shrivel up and disappear from sight the next morning when she asked Mr. Itadori where he’d kept the fresh sheets, at the breakfast table in front of both Yuuji and Sukuna.

All the appetite for the food in front of you vanished as rage and humiliation flared up in you instead- a bit at your mom for embarrassing you like this with her usual lack of tact and mostly because of the pointed smirk on Sukuna’s face that you could practically feel prodding you even with your eyes cast firmly downwards.

You could already tell there were biting words waiting, ready to be unleashed at the tip of his tongue, and as soon as your parents left you once again alone with him and Yuuji, out they came. “New sheets, huh? What, did you wet the bed or something?”

“Period,” you said flatly, stirring your tea and refusing to give him the reaction he wanted from you.

Yuuji flashed a warning glare at Sukuna that did absolutely nothing to deter him.

“How old are you? Still can’t control your messes at your big age?”

“Dude, what the hell is your problem?” Yuuji turned to you. “Just ignore the asshole. The sheets are in the cupboard in the hallway, I can get them for you if you’d like.”

You forced a small smile as you stood and collected your dishes. “It's fine I can get them myself since I gotta go right now anyway. Thanks, though.”

“Alright, I’ll catch ya later then.”

From the heaviness of Sukuna’s silence and his dark eyes following you along with Yuuji turning to glare back at his older brother, you could already sense they were about to start bickering again as you leave the dining room.

A few days pass and you try to go about your life as usual- studying for finals, going to classes, texting the guy you’re talking to.

But no matter how much you can pretend, that night continues to manifest itself- either as the fading soreness that you could feel with every movement the day after he’d scratched you up or as the way you’d deliberately switch your plans around so that you wouldn’t happen to be alone at home with him.

He was noticing of course the way you’d try and avoid him, and instead of pushing harder and bullying you more like you half expected, Sukuna mostly kept his distance.

Distance that felt like nothing the way his eyes would follow you these days, piercing looks that spoke for themselves.

Ironically Yuuji thought he was getting better, now that the three of you could sit at a table without Sukuna starting something by picking on you.

If only he knew the way your stomach would curl into a pit when Sukuna would simply ask you to pass the hot sauce at your end of the table, the intense glint in his eyes contrasting with his amiable, almost lilting tone.

Somehow this complete lack of outright acknowledgement of what had happened in your room, what he’d done, only put you on edge even more for reasons you couldn’t name.

Feeling increasingly nervous, you asked your mom on the third night after if you could have a lock installed on your door. You gave her the reason of “wanting more privacy” and of course she blew you off like you’d expected.

“This is a shared home, there’s no locking doors around family.”

You resorted to spending the next two nights staying with your friend Shoko in her dorm on campus. It was a refreshing change of pace, spending the day on campus and being able to spend more time with friends as well go to nearby cafes to study with that guy.

He was growing on you- it felt good to be around someone who could make you laugh and temporarily forget the curse in your life that was your older stepbrother.

You could forget about him, or at the very least pretend his aggressions were the only issue until you were once again under the cover of night, wrapped in sheets and trying to fall asleep and desperately forget how his tongue felt lapping at your pussy.

And just like the previous four nights, forgetting turned to fantasizing, but this time without the luxury to touch yourself since you weren’t within the privacy of your own room.

As if it made that much of a difference- your fingers could never live up to his touch, even when you were spurred on by images of him that night replaying in your mind like a broken record.

You cussed yourself out mentally before giving in, drifting off to sleep with clenched thighs into another night of restless dreams about him that would usually end in you waking up with sweat sticky on your skin and the urge to rush to the bathroom to try and finish yourself off.

That’s exactly how you wake your second night at the dorm and you’re oddly grateful for your situation since at least now you can’t give in to your new daily morning habit.

Shoko is already awake, greeting you as you sit up in your sleeping bag and stretch while she gets ready for the last exams till school is out for winter break.

The two of you are deciding on what to get for breakfast when your phone rings. You sigh and turn it over, seeing it's your mom like you expected.

“Hello?”

“Good morning. You’re coming back by tonight, right?” your mother immediately asks.

“I dunno…why?”

“Its been two nights and you barely even told me where you were going or for how long or with who. What’s gotten into you? You can’t just be disappearing off like tha-”

“I told you I was going to be staying at Shoko’s didn’t I?” you answer as Shoko looked towards you at the mention of her name. “Besides what’s the big deal?”

“Firstly, I don’t like you going out for this long without giving me all the details. God forbid something were to happen, neither I nor Jin nor your brothers would be there to help you.”

You can tell she’s just worried, but you still feel a bite of irritation at the irony of it. Yuuji you could understand- even Mr. Itadori, but wherever did your mom get the notion that Sukuna would ever be on your side?

Hell, he’s probably the exact kind of thing she’s trying to protect you from.

“Okay, fine. What else?” you mumble unexcitedly.

“You do remember about the dinner party tomorrow evening, right?”

You audibly groan at the reminder.

Some stupid end of year party for your parents’ friends and acquaintances that you had absolutely no interest in attending.

“Do I have to g-”

“Yes. Its not up for discussion. Please be home by tonight so we can prepare.” Without leaving any room for negotiation, your mom hangs up the phone while you feel like flinging yours across the room.

It's all for show, you know how your mom and Mr. Itadori want to show off what a perfect happy little family the five of you are. It would look bad for them, your mom especially, if you were missing from the function.

You’re not a fan of these cocktail parties, more so due to boredom than anything else, but your apprehension of going home is only heightened this much because of one person.

Especially since you know he probably knows he’s the reason you’ve been gone.

Your morning is spent mostly ranting to Shoko, before the two of you part ways when she has an exam to finish and you get ready for a lunch date before you pack your things and he drops you home.

He takes you to a cat cafe, and once again you have such a good time that you nearly forget about what waits for you at home.

And when he finally pulls up outside your house and he kisses you, you wonder if maybe you can replace the thoughts of Sukuna’s tongue with his, just to rid yourself of that depraved urge he instilled in you.

A wave of relief washes through you when you notice the bike isn’t parked in front of your house as you walk up to let yourself in. Hopefully you can go the rest of the night without seeing him.

It sinks away when you hear his bike pull up in the street right as you close the door. Even worse, you’re sure he probably caught your date leaving.

Luckily you already ate so you kick off your shoes and rush to your room, closing the door before you can come face to face with Sukuna who you hear entering the house just a few moments later.

Fuck him for making you have to run around and hide like this in your own home.

You get ready for bed and when you’re finally tucked in you hear Sukuna’s footsteps coming up the stairs like every other night.

Just like every other night, you tense up and hold your breath, partially waiting for him to turn the knob and slip into your room.

And like every other time after the first, his footsteps pass by your room and disappear while you let out the breath you were holding- whether in relief or disappointment you can’t tell.

It's dark now and once again you’re seated in front of your vanity to brush your hair and smooth out the dress in preparation for the guests that will start arriving at any minute now.

You reach for the bottle of perfume, the one you hadn’t worn since that evening before your first date.

You spray your pulse points sparingly and even then as the rich scent of fruity pink florals hits your nostrils, suddenly you’re taken back to that memory of him again, in disturbingly vivid detail. How he sat you on his lap, brushed your hair, the sight of his cock wrapped in your panties…

You set the bottle back down, ignoring the heat pooling between your legs and try to straighten yourself out so that your flushed state wouldn’t show on your face.

He would be here too, but you feel a lot better about it considering that everyone else would be present as well.

Nothing will happen.

With this self assurance you breathe easier as you exit your room to help your mom and Yuuji finish setting things up, double checking the gifts and laying out plates of food. You find Sukuna still isn’t there and frankly you don’t want to ask, as if speaking his name would summon him like a demon.

Minutes pass and you ease up some more, greeting guests as they arrive and exchanging gifts. The house becomes livelier, ambient chatter filling the atmosphere. It's much more pleasant with a few sips of sake and the fact that you still haven’t caught sight of Sukuna. You spend the time introducing yourself, chatting with the adults who ask you the usual questions regarding what you’re studying in college and what field you plan to find a career in. In between you and Yuuji giggle and joke around while he routinely fills, finishes, and refills his plate with appetizers, slowly but steadily finishing off the tempura and yakitori, hoping that no one notices.

He comes rushing back with his fourth plate, looking around before offering you some more and resuming his snacking. “I think you might need to get the next plate, I think your mom’s catching onto me….”

You turn just in time to catch her suspicious gaze drifting away, stifling a laugh as Yuuji munches on the last of the tempura. “I’m actually surprised no one’s noticed by now.”

“They’ve definitely noticed, one of dad’s coworkers saw me heading back to the table and raced me there so he could take some tempura before I took the rest.”

“Just be patient Yuuji, there’ll be more food later. You act like we’re starving you,” you snort as you finish the last of the sake in your cup.

Yuuji frowns. “Before this, I hadn’t eaten anything in four hours. Four whole hours.”

You roll your eyes before getting up. “I’m gonna get another drink, be right back.”

You’re pouring yourself some sake when you feel a hand snaking around your waist, making you look up in surprise.

There he is- dressed in a dark dress shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows and matching black belted slacks with a rakish smirk plastered onto his face to complete his look.

You swallow.

He looks good, more than you’d ever like to admit.

“Hey, sis,” he greets you casually while you nervously look around.

The house is a lot more crowded now, and with the corner Sukuna’s backed you into, you feel a little more isolated with him than you’re comfortable with.

“Hi…” you mumble back quietly as you put the bottle back in place, not wanting to start something here out of all places.

And with this many people around he wouldn’t dare trying some shit, right?

“So, wanna tell me where the hell you’ve been these past two nights?” The fingers on your waist start skimming, playing with the hem of your top to lightly rake his nails across the surface of your skin under.

You scoff, unamused as you down the shot and put the ceramic on the table. “No I don’t, considering you have no right to ask me some shit like that.”

His nails press lightly into your flesh as he slowly but firmly guides you away from the table, further into the corner. “Been whoring yourself out?”

“What, you mean like you? No. I was staying with my friend.” The alcohol in your system is starting to show its effects, the atmosphere blending to become a bit hazier and the realization that you’re not pushing away or stopping his light touches.

He cranes his neck slightly to speak lowly into your ear. “Why? It didn’t have anything to do with me, did it?”

Asshole.

You stiffen, heart thumping in your chest, knowing you’d be stupid to even try and lie, but still reluctant to give him the satisfaction of your answer.

Luckily he speaks again before you have the chance to, straightening back up. “Oh by the way, I got something for you.”

You furrow your brows, thrown off-guard by the complete change of tone and unexpected gesture. “Huh? What is it? I didn’t get anything for you…”

Was this another trick?

Instead of receiving an answer, you feel him shift before he pulls something out of his pocket and shows it to you. “Don’t worry, its brand new. Just took it out of the packaging.”

You squint. The object is made from some peach colored rubberish material, with what looked to be a finger strap on the back and a small hole in the center of it.

“Literally what the fuck is tha-”

You regret wearing a skirt instead of a dress because out of nowhere his hand and the object in it are dipping beneath your waistline and into your panties. You only realize what it is when you feel him adjusting the toy, nestling it in between your folds so that the suction part is resting directly on top of your clit.

“Sukuna, oh my god-” You anxiously scan your surroundings before looking up into his face. “There’s people here- not to mention my mom, your dad, and Yuuji, are you fucking crazy?”

You grip his arm tightly, the smooth silicone cool on your sensitive flesh while you look for where everyone is, finding your mom and Mr. Itadori chatting with another couple across the house. In the secluded area you’re in, luckily the table and chairs are blocking your bottom halves from direct view.

Still, this is too much, too wildly inappropriate and you don’t even want to begin to imagine what would happen if someone noticed. “C-Can we just go up to my room or somethi-”

He laughs meanly before turning it on.

Your breath hitches and immediately you’re incapacitated by the vibrations coursing not just through your clit, but the length of your entire vulva. It’s only the first setting, but it's the first time you’ve ever felt a vibrator, and with how sensitive you are to this novel sensation you immediately feel blood flowing down to your clit, slow waves of pleasure building up.

The low humming is masked by the sounds of chatter, laughter, and music but still you look up to make sure no one can hear anything before relaxing ever so slightly.

“So…a lock on your door, huh?” Sukuna starts, an accusatory tone that tells you he isn’t happy about it.

You turn your head into his chest, letting locks of hair fall over your face and hoping it would conceal your expression.

“Can you blame me?” you say feebly, trying not to lose yourself in the steady feeling between your thighs.

“You’re a stupid girl if you think that would protect you from me.” He presses a button on the side and vibrations amp up a level, making you draw a sharp breath as you really start to feel the suction pressure on your clit.

Sukuna bends lower to look into your rounded eyes. “Besides, you fucking loved it.”

His voice sends a chill through you, dripping with something that makes you feel so dirty, yet only increases the heat burning on your cheeks, ears, adding to the intensity of the pleasure caressing your sensitive spot.

“I-I…” There’s a dryness in your mouth as you realize you’ve been panting softly through parted lips, unable to form a coherent sentence as the pressure builds.

“Loved the way I ate out your messy, bleeding cunt while mom and dad slept right down the hall…” he rasps, leaning lower to fondle the curve of your ass with his other hand.

“D-don’t -ah- say that, Sukuna,” you whimper, peering up at him as tears begin to sting your eyes from the orgasm you could feel building slowly and steadily with increasing intensity in response to the filthy images he was making your remember.

“Why not? Bet you would’ve liked them finding us like that. Probably would’ve made you cum on the spot,” he whispers.

And all at once its too much, the orgasm washing upon you so all-consuming that you can’t even make a single noise, a single whimper or moan doesn’t make its way out. Instead you cum open mouthed, silent and painless tears rolling down your cheeks while you orgasm to the picture of your parents catching him doing all those disgusting things to you, the muscles in your clit twitching violently under the buzzing and suckling vibrations of the toy.

After a few seconds your orgasm dissipates and the sensations on your clit become overwhelming, painful even.

“Ah, ow, t-turn it off-” You twist and try and lift your hips away from the uncomfortable feeling, jerking liking you’re being stung at the jolts of over stimulation while still trying not to make so much as a commotion as to catch others’ attention.

“You’re still seeing that little dipshit aren’t you? The one who dropped you off last night?” Sukuna growls, not caring less about you squirming in discomfort. “Did he fuck you?”

“N-no, not yet,” you breathe out, your struggling slowly starting to calm down as the pressure on your clit doesn’t feel as painful anymore.

You turn your face around and try to stand straighter so nothing looks suspicious to anyone whose eyes might happen to pass over this way.

“Not yet? Fuck’s that supposed to mean?” He presses the vibrator harder up against your pussy and suddenly you catch the faintest whiff of what you assume is his cologne. “You know maybe I should just fuck you right here and now- make you scream when I tear you open on my cock. How’s that sound, lil sis? Would you like that?”

Its subtle but a dark scent, smokey and resinous with an undertone of something sweet- you swear the fragrance goes right to your head, muddling dangerously with your mind that should be repulsed by his threat.

Instead you feel heat rising in your legs, in the muscles of your upper thighs as the first tendrils of your second orgasm in a row begin to unfurl in your lower abdomen.

“Answer me, slut.” Sukuna presses the button again and the vibrations increase yet another level, pulsing through your entire pussy and flooding your clit.

You clench your teeth and grip his arm tighter, forcing yourself to keep your face straight. “F-fuck Sukuna, yeah I do-”

Once again, you can hardly believe the words spilling from your lips- yet it's the truth. Just imagining his cock again had you spreading your legs slightly to feel the toy better.

He laughs lowly, pulling you tighter against his chest till you can feel the deep rumbles in them and an erection through the fabric of his pants. “Yeah? Want your little cunt stuffed with your big brother’s cum dripping out? Your little boytoy can eat it out later if he wants, just so he remembers his place….”

You bite your lip, on the precipice of cumming again when you catch your mom out of all people catching your eye through the bodies, and making her way towards you.

Your face pales and you do the only thing you can think of- stomp as hard as you can on Sukuna’s foot through his shoe while you suddenly thrash around to pull his hand out of the waist of your skirt behind the table.

His grip tightens, angering at your sudden movements. “Fuck’s wrong with y-”

“My mom’s coming, get that thing out of my panties,” you hiss as you try to create some more distance between your bodies. “Please,” you add, hoping he’ll work with you for once and not take this as an opportunity to execute one of the millions of sick ideas he probably has running through his head.

He looks at you for a second with a lazy grin before complying, quickly pulling the small toy out and slipping it back into his pocket, taking a step back as your mom rounds the corner of the table, leaving you in full view while you quickly wipe any remnants of tears on your face with your sleeve, hoping it didn't smear your eye makeup.

“Hey you guys, what are you doing hiding in this corner? Some of our guests want to meet you two, please come say hi.”

You try your best not to let the frustration paint itself on your face. “Yeah we’ll be there in a second. Just gonna grab another drink,” you reply shortly, hoping your cheeks aren’t too noticeably flushed while straightening out the hem of your top.

“Alright.” She nods before smiling up at Sukuna. “So glad you could make it by the way. I know you have some pretty crazy shifts, so thanks for making the time and coming. Instead of being difficult about it like someone…” She eyes you again. “You should really learn a thing or two from him, you know?”

Your jaw almost falls open and you nearly retort back before holding your tongue and tilting your chin towards the people your mom wanted you to come meet. “Looks like they’re waiting for you. We’ll be there in a moment.”

As your mom disappears into the crowd again, you turn to Sukuna who’s smirking in that way that makes your blood boil. “Don’t even fucking start.”

“Aw, is someone upset because she couldn’t cum?”

You cross your arms, shooting daggers with your eyes. “Give me the toy. You said it was for me, right?”

As inappropriate as it was, you were amazed that you’d never bothered to find out how good a sex toy actually felt. With it, maybe you wouldn’t yearn for Sukuna’s mouth as much.

He makes no move to pull it out. “Nah, don’t think so. You can cum with it, but only when I let you.”

You gaze down at his pocket, wondering if you could possibly snatch it and run away. Probably wouldn’t end well for you, you reason and decide against it. “You’re horrible.”

“Don’t pout, I’ll make it up to you some other time.” Sukuna straightens his shirt before pulling out a glass and a bottle to pour himself a drink. “Come on, let’s go before your mom comes back.”

taglist: @hishearttohave @latrotoxiins @beccaasposts

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legendofmorons · 1 month ago

Text

Written in the stars (forever on loop) chapter five - I will wait

Pairing: pre- poly! Chain x reader, Wind & reader

Rating: T

Summary: You spend the day telling people you're leaving, getting dragged into a fight, and having a somewhat honest conversation with Legend. Hyrule is having a very bad time, Four would like everyone to get their shit together so he can have a turn with a breakdown, and Epona is definitely my favorite. (Aka: I drop a bunch of information, smack everyone with the angst stick, and gloss over like three sort of concerning things)

Warnings: cursing, Canon typical violence, angst, blood

Other: If I missed anything, please let me know.

Previous masterlist Next

------

Morning comes with little fanfare.

Warriors wakes you up carefully, informing you it's time to be alert. You groan, but get up.

You set about getting ready for the day and putting things in the enchanted bag Wind gave you. (The kid is a life saver!)

Once you've gotten your things packed, you find yourself pulling Wind and Sky aside to tell them about your decision before everyone else.

You consider simply not telling them. You could just slip away. You could avoid saying goodbye.

You hate goodbyes.

You could avoid any possible confrontation.

That isn't right, though. Even with all the strange tension the group deserves to know you're leaving. They deserve to know there's one less person to feed.

Wind and Sky especially deserve to know. They've both been so good to you.

It would be a coward's choice to simply disappear and appealing as it is... you know it's wrong.

Wind and Sky deserve better.

Being a better and more healed version of yourself is hard and sucks sometimes. Making mature decisions sucks.

You take a deep breath and try to prepare yourself before you do this.

"Can I talk to you two?" You ask as you approach Wind and Sky.

"Yeah, of course!" Wind answers.

"Sure." Sky says.

You offer a soft smile. "I wanted to tell both of you something before the others."

"That's ominous." Sky says with a weak smile.

"What's going on?" Wind asks, tilting his head.

You take a deep breath. "I'm staying at the next town."

"What?" Sky croaks, eyes going wide.

He looks a little sea sick, but you can't imagine why.

"I'm not going to leave with you, I'll stay at the next town."

"Why?" Wind asks, sounding tense.

You give a weak smile. "I'm not a fighter like you guys. Besides... I'm slowing you all down. I think we can all agree I'm not exactly an adventuring expert."

There's a beat of silence.

"No one is at first," Sky says gently, quick to reassure you.

"Maybe not. But I'm staying at the next town." You say, trying to sound firm without sounding callous.

Wind rolls his eyes. "If this is because Legend is being a little bitch-"

"It's not." You say quickly. "I'm having a lot of things going on in my head, and I need space to sort through them."

"Oh." Wind deflates.

Sky gives you a look somewhere between guilt and relief. "If you're sure."

"I am." You say.

It really does seem like the best plan anyway.

"You're sure this isn't about Legend being a dickbag?" Wind asks.

You snort, "It's not that."

"Fine." Wind sighs. "If this is what you want."

"It is." You say.

Sky gives you a tired smile. "I'm sorry you got dragged into all of this."

"It's not your fault." You say, "Thank you for helping me out."

"Of course." Sky says with a strange hitch of his breath.

Wind rolls his eyes, "What were we supposed to do, leave you there?"

"You could have."

"Who does that?" The teen scoffs.

You shrugs, "Some people."

"Not us." Wind says.

"Not you." The agreement is pulling itself from wherever those strange dreams are from. You believe it, though.

Your The heroes aren't the type to leave anyone stranded like that.

Wind sighs. "Does anyone else know?"

"Time, and Four because he was there when I told Time."

"Four?" Sky blinks.

You nod. "Yes."

"If you're staying at the town, could you send a letter for me?" Wind asks.

You agree, of course you can! It's no work and he's done so much for you.

You let the news sit until after Wild has given everyone breakfast. You sit with Wind, of course. The boy is currently glaring at Legend as if the man did something personal.

Weird.

Why is the sailor so mad at Legend?

Did the veteran say something?

"I have something to tell all of you," You say, words feeling far heavier than you want to acknowledge or admit.

It shouldn't be so hard to tell a group of people that don't seem to want you around that you're leaving.

But...

The dreams....

Something makes it feel wrong to leave. Something is your heart says you're meant to he with this group.

(But that is absolutely ridiculous... right?)

All eyes turn to you except Wind, who is still giving Legend dirty looks.

"What is it?" Warriors asks, brow raising as he appraises your behavior.

"I'll be staying at the next town we find." You say, trying to bite back the abject bitterness about leaving.

"What?" Wild manages.

"Why?" Hyrule asks, face looking like you've struck him.

Okay...

Why do any of them care? You seem to just make them uncomfortable anyway.

"I've got some things to sort out, but I'm also not really a fighter. We all know I'm slowing you down."

"You are not." Sky says.

You smile, "I definitely am."

"It's- not your fault." Wild tries to reassure.

That's very sweet of him.

You laugh a little, "Either way, I'm staying at the next town."

"Are you sure?" Warriors asks.

"Yes."

"Well... Good luck." Four offers tightly.

Legend stays silent, not looking at you. The break is nice, in all honesty.

"I do want to say thanks to all of you, for helping me out and making sure I don't die." You offer with a smile.

"It's not a big deal." Twilight waves off.

"It's what anyone would do." Hyrule says.

You shake your head. "Not anyone."

"It's what we do." Time says.

"You are heroes." You smile a little.

"So we hear." Legend scoffs, glaring at the ground.

You sigh, turning back to your breakfast. This hasn't been the worst interaction, but it hasn't been the best either.

"Don't let him bring you down." Wind nudges you.

"I'm not." You say.

"Good." Sky smiles weakly.

Wind just sighs. "I'm going to miss you. No one else is as fun."

"Hey!" Wild gasps.

You laugh, letting the apprehension from before melt away. There's still an ending that almost seems to loom despite the relief you know you'll receive... but things are good.

Here, in this little bubble made up of you, a teenage scallywag, a grieving but friendly bird lover, and a horse, things are good.

Here you are safe.

All you have to do is ignore the dreams and half memories of your boys the heroes you travel with.

-------

You take the extra sword and shield that Wild gives you, wearing it on your belt easily enough. Traveling seems both easier and harder now that you know you have a set end point for your adventure.

You may not know how many days before you find a town, but you know every step is a step closer to leaving this group. A step closer to leaving Wind, Sky, and Epona.

Today, you travel beside Four. He's rather quiet, but at least he isn't hostile.

Though... Legend hasn't said but one thing to you since yesterday. He won't look at you now...

It's an improvement.

His constant anger is exhausting.

Four may not be as fun to be around as Wind, or as friendly as Sky, but he does at least steady you if you trip.

He dosen’t give you dirty looks.

Four answers any questions you have with a steady patience, eyes almost glinting violet in the light.

The dirt road you trek along is as monotonous as you may think.

Epona keeps falling a little behind Twilight to get your attention. If you slip her an apple at some point, that's really just between you and Epona. Isn't it?

(Wind notices, and he accuses you of being a pushover for Epona. But what if you are? She's an angel!)

Blue skies with big puffy clouds seem to be common here. Today is no exception.

Wind is just behind you with Hyrule, in front of you Time and Twilight walk.

Epona trails a little behind Twilight, choosing to walk at your side instead.

You pass Epona a bit of carrot while you all stop before a rickety old bridge.

"How many is that?" Wind asks from behind you.

"Not as many as she deserves." You flash a grin over your shoulder.

"Why do you like her so much?" Four asks.

You turn to look at him, and for a moment, you swear his eyes are red...

You hum, "She's a good girl. How could anyone not like her?"

"I guess that's fair." Four says, voice a little too far away.

"You okay, smithy?" Wild asks.

"I'm fine." Four says.

The man isn't particularly convincing, but you aren't sure how to bring it up.

There's the sound of rustling and hooves.

You turn, several others turning with you to find the new sound.

A blue lynel surges forward.

"Fuck me." You hiss.

Maybe it's not polite but really, lynels are evil and awful.

"You have the worst curses." Wind snorts.

Twilight turns and presses Epona's reins into your hands without warning, "Take Epona and get outta here. We'll find ya later."

You feel like you're supposed to argue and try to pull your own weight... but you've never fought a lynel in real life, and getting killed seems bad.

So, taking Epona and leaving it will be.

You grip her reigns and take a deep breath.

Scanning the area, you see a path through the trees that is more of a dirt road truly.

Epona can run faster than you...

The boys launch into fight, and you make the executive decision that riding Epona is a great idea.

You clamber up onto Epona, clumsy and panicking. As soon as you settle your weight on her saddle, you click your tounge, squeezing your knees to her sides for a second.

Regardless of your level of experience with horses, you can safely say you've never had to ride a horse while running from an evil centaur being.

Epona takes off into a gallop towards the path in the trees.

You can hear the others fighting, but for your own sanity, you focus on the reigns in your hands.

"When did they learn to ride a horse?!" Someone calls from behind you.

"FOCUS ON THE FIGHT!" Legend calls back, making more sense than you want to examine.

("Focus on the fight, firefly!" A man calls to you, the smell of malice wafts through the air.)

You need your brain to stop doing these things.

Epona breaks the tree line and jumps over a fallen log without stopping. She dosen’t seem to need much instruction.

"You're doing so good, sweetheart." You tell her, white knuckliing the reigns.

You don't pull on the leather in your hands.

If Epona has a plan, you aren't going to argue.

There's a whistling before a pain blooms in your shoulder.

An arrow connects in your shoulder. And you curse.

Looking over, you see several lizafos and a few like likes.

Shit!

You snap the reigns and squeeze your heels to Epona. "Come on, girl, hurry up."

You glance back and nearly scream. There's a shadow there - ripping through the enemies. It looks a lot like dark Link-

You snap the reigns again. You are not dealing with this.

You need a huge pay raise to deal with this, starting with getting paid at all.

Sometimes fighting is a great choice. This is not one of those times. Fighting an evil demon version of a hero seems like a great way to lose.

Epona starts running, clearing obstacles.

You lean forward, dropping the reigns to hug her neck. You might actually die.

"Fucking Bezos." You huff.

You aren't actually sure how this could be his fault but it sounds good.

The shadow ir whatever that is seems focused on the monsters while Epona runs.

Epona runs until she sees a clearing and then she stops.

You groan, getting off her back and looking at the artow in your shoulder. Ow.

This is such-

There's a panicking whiney from Epona.

You turn, eyes falling onto the Bokoblin who just attacked her with a bat.

What an ass! No one hurts Epona!

Ever.

Rage courses through you.

You take your sword in hand, using the arm without the arrow, of course.

Rushing forwards you engage with the blue bokoblin.

"Not my horse, fuck head!" You growl.

You dodge a sweep of the beasts' club.

Swing.

Duck.

Stab.

Pivot-

Epona nickers, bucking the air and slamming her back hooves into the beasts head.

"Good girl!" You praise.

You deal the finishing blow while the beast is down.

The moment the threat is gone you begin to crash, pain flaring in your shoulder where the arrow still is. Exhaustion seeps into your body.

Epona comes over and nudges your good shoulder.

"Hey, sweetheart." You smile softly.

She chuffs at you.

You laugh softly, "Are you okay, pretty girl?"

She nudges you again before walking forwards so your good arm brushes your arm.

"Are you offering to let me lean on you?" You ask.

Epona chuffs again.

You laugh weakly, energy waning too fast as you lean on her with your good side.

"What a sweet girl." You smile softly.

You sigh, looking at the arrow in your shoulder. The next town can't come soon enough.

Unfortunately you have no fairy or potion, so you suppose you'll just have to wait for the boys to find you.

Hopefully it isn't Legend, you aren't sure you can deal with his attitude right now.

You hear movement before you see it.

"(Y/n)?" A voice calls.

That sounds like Time.

Time emerges with Hyrule amd Wind in tow, gaze falling to you with a hiss of "Goddesses."

"Hi." You say, going to wave with your bad arm and wincing.

"You're hurt." Hyrule frowns.

"At least you left it in." Wind sighs.

"Are the others okay?"

"They're fine." Time says firmly, voice stern even though his hands shake.

You nods. "Good."

"Let me heal you." Hyrule says.

"You don't have to. I'm sure I'll be fine-"

"Don't be stubborn." Wind snorts.

"Fine. Thank you, Hyrule." You say.

Hyrule swallows hard as he comes closer. He won't look at your face but he is unnaturally pale while he stares at your wound.

His hands shake as he reaches up to break the long end of the arrow.

"You have monster blood on you." Wind says as he looks you over.

"Good." You manage, "Stupid thing attacked Epona."

"She isn't bleeding, at least."

"Just bruised- Shit!" You hiss out as the arrow his pulled from your shoulder.

"I'm sorry, honeybee." Hyrule says.

What did he just say?

"What?"

"I know it hurts." Hyrule soothes.

Why did he call you 'honey bee'? Maybe... maybe you misheard?

(You can almost imagine his voice calling you that as he points out stars above you...)

Hyrule's magic washes over you and it feels like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. It's like honeysuckle and summer night breezes.

It feels right. The magic feels like coming home to hot chocolate in a blizzard. It weaves into your being like it's meant to be there.

Those dreams are really messing with your head....

"We're glad you're okay." Time says tightly.

"I'm glad you're all okay." You offer.

"We're heroes, of course we're olay!" Wind declares with a grin.

You can't figure it out.

Time looks like he's pained but you can't find any injury.

Hyrule pulls his hand back from you, magic leaving with them. "Feel better?"

"Yes. Thank you." You smile.

"It's what I do." Hyrule waves off.

"We should go back to the group." Time says.

"Sure, just hang on." You say, procuring another bit of carrot and turning to Epona.

She takes the carrot from your hand happily.

"Really?" Wind laughs.

You nod, putting both hands on Epona's cheeks. "You're such a good girl, sweetheart. You kicking that beast was awesome!"

"She- she kicked a monster?" Time asks, sounding like he might fall over.

You nod happily, "Shs did! It was amazing!"

"Epona is pretty good." Hyrule nods.

Epona just gives a happy snort at your shoulder, as if she is checking that it's better now.

"She is."

"She must like you." Time says.

"I hope so." You smile.

"Let's head back, Wild is making lunch." Wind says, tugging you firward by the hand.

You let him lead you back to the group, Epona, following you with Time and Hyrule in the back.

The walk is slower on foot but you don't mind. Epona deserves a break.

Wind tugs you along until you break the trees and can see the others.

Sky sees you and makes his way over. "Hey."

"Hi." You offer. "You okay?"

"We're just tired. That thing had black blood." Sky waves off. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, Hyrule healed me so I'm good." You shrug, grateful to be pain free in your shoulders.

Sky frowns, "What happened?"

"An arrow got me, but I'm okay."

Wind grins. "They had the good sense to leave it in until it could be treated."

"Oh." Sky squeaks.

You are sure why. Maybe Sky is squeamish? Maybe Hyrule is too actually...

Weird.

But monster blood is different...

Oh well.

"Wild should be just about done with lunch. Come on!" Wind says as he tugs you over to the cook.

Things aren't perfect, and you're still going to leave them behind... but it's nice right now.

Wind's enthusiasm and some good food do wonders for your mood.

You even get a little cat nap in thanks to Sky.

-------

Legend takes second watch, sending Four off to bed with a yawn and a knowing look. He knows he needs to do perimeter, but first, he wants to make sure everyone is okay.

Sky is half out of his bedroll, face in the pillow and snoring lightly.

You and Wind are near Sky. Wind is sprawled over you, acting half as a blanket thanks to his propensity to moving in his sleep.

You seem peaceful enough, face pressed into the pillow.

Wind flips over and is no longer on you, sprawling sideways out of his bedroll towards Wild. The champion is sleeping like a log.

Hyrule and Twilight sleep near the fire.

Four goes to sleep near Time, the two of them both closer to the fire.

Warriors sleeps on his back, near Sky again.

Legend sets about doing a perimeter check, careful to be as thorough as he can be. He won't let haste doom them.

After his check of the perimeter, Legend goes to sit near the fire again. He's awake enough, but the warmth is always welcome.

After all of his adventures, he's chronically a little cold.

He hears shifting, looking over towards where it is coming from, he finds you.

You're struggling against the blankets in your bed roll, brows knit together.

You make a soft sound.

"Link!" You manage weakly, still asleep.

Legend just stares at you. What are you dreaming that has you acting like this?

You kick your blanket off, continuing to fight against some unknown force.

There's a traitorous part of him that wants to comfort you. The part the hopes against reason that you're his lover who's been reincarnated again, just like always.

He pushes that part down.

"Link look out - she's behind you - Link!" Your voice is small even in your panic. He only hears you because he's awake.

Your face is scrunched up as your arm reaches up.

You bolt upright, eyes flying open with a choked gasp of a name. "Hilda -"

Oh.

Oh no.

You're breathing heavy and Legend -

Legend is having a breakthrough.

"You good?" Legend manages to get out.

Your head whips towards him, shoulders loosening when you see him. You swallow thickly.

"I'm - yeah... yeah... sorry." You manage to get out.

"It's fine." Legend says.

It isn't fine, actually, but that's not your fault.

What he just witnessed shakes lose memories of his lost lover who had the same nightmares about Hilda hurting him over and over.

They - the dreams looked just like whatever you woke up from.

Little details start falling into place.

It's you.

You're here.

What are you doing here?!

Oh.

Oh no.

Legend has been so rude to you. He's been a real piece of shit.

Honestly, he's ashamed. Even if you weren't his soulmate, reincarnated how he's behaved is atrocious. Wild is right about that.

You're still sitting up, trying to slow your breathing down when he looks over again, trying to slow your mind and heart down.

You're- as breathtaking as you've ever been. You always have been, even before he figured out that you really are - well... you.

Have you been having dreams like this from previous lives... the whole time?

Does your Link know?

Where is your Link? You haven't said anything about him at all.

Do you... have a Link? Did he pass?

Have you met him yet?

Legend has about a million questions and no voice to ask with.

He can't help wondering if you know. Do you know who you are?

What you are?

Do you know why they've all been struggling around you?

Can... Can you forgive him for how awful he's been to you?

Legend could kick himself for all of it.

Should...

Should he tell the others?

Is it kinder not to tell them because you're leaving again and staying at the next town?

He probably shouldn't tell them.

What's one more secret?

Legend absolutely owes you an apology, though. Maybe a hundred apologies.

He looks at you again.

You're sitting up, knees drawn to your chest as you try to slow your breathing. You look exhuasted.

How long have you been having dreams from past lives?

"It's not real." You whisper.

Legend swallows hard. He closes his eyes before he opens them and does what he should have done before he ever figured out that, in fact, his beloved trinket.

You are a person, and ever reincarnation soulmate or not, you deserve better from him.

"Do you want to join me?" Legend asks.

Your head whips over to look at him. "I don't want to intrude -"

"I'm offering." He says.

You get up, silently crossing the space to sit on the log with him. There's space between the two of you.

Legend can feel the urge to reach out and pull your close bubble up.

He dosen’t. He dosen’t have that right anymore, especially not after his behavior.

He shouldn't have taken his grief out on you at all, regardless of if you're you or not.

Goddesses. How long has he wasted with you?

"Bad night?" He asks stiffly.

You nod. "Yeah."

"Damn." He says.

You snort, side eyeing him. "Thanks."

"Do you... want to talk about it?" He asks as he looks you over.

You shrug. "Won't matter. Just a lot of weird dreams. Some are nice. Some aren't."

"That sucks."

"It does." You agree. "It's not the biggest problem, though. My sword skills are hit or miss, and I think I might have to fight Twilight for custody of Epona before I leave she seems to like me."

"She does." He agrees, trying to ignore the twinge in his chest at the reminder that you are leaving. "It drives Twilight up a wall. He's jealous."

He knows it's better this way.

He knows that the town will keep you safe from the danger of this quest.

He knows it's for the best.

But it's still losing you.

Again.

He's not even sure he'll find the words to apologize properly before you leave

"He shouldn't be, Epona adores him."

Legend just shrugs. "I don't understand cowboy feelings."

You laugh a little, tense and shaking. But it's the first laugh he's gotten out of you in a long time.

He's missed it. He's missed the way your laugh sounds.

"He's a boyscout who loves his horse." You muse, eyes softening in the firelight. "I guess you don't have Boy Scouts here, do you?"

The question is a genuine one, your gaze turning to him again.

"Uh, no clue what that shit is." Legend shrugs.

Goddesses! How is he supposed to act?!

You obviously don't know about the soulmate reincarnated thing. He can tell, he knows you, and your mannerisms are the same.

If you knew... You'd confront him about it. You wouldn't let them agonize like this if you knew.

He doesn't want to tell you. You don't seem familiar with Hyrule, so he's not sure you've even heard about the soulmates thing.

Besides, before just now, he's been a complete jackass to you!

He's kicking himself for it, but he would bet if he went from that to saying your his soulmate that your head would spin. You wouldn't believe him.

"It's something kids do. They learn survival and camping and sell popcorn." You explain.

"Huh." Legend manages.

"Can... I ask you something?" You ask.

"Sure."

"Did I do something to you?" Your question is fair, but the way you stare into the fire to avoid looking at him hurts.

"No. You didn't..." Legend weighs his options, the way this could play out. He makes his decision. "You just - You're too much like someone I lost."

"Oh." You say, understanding blooming in your lovely eyes.

"Look... I know I've been a real shit, and I know taking my problems out on you isn't fair. I'm sorry I've acted like a real..." Legend pauses, looking for the right words.

"Fucking asshole?" You offer with a half smile.

"Yeah," He breathes out. "I've been a real fucking asshole."

"Your behavior sucks. But, I forgive you, as long as you try to do better." You tell him. "I don't understand it all, but I know grief."

You have always been too forgiving of him.

Legend snorts. "Yeah."

"I don't expect you to be warm and cuddly." You crack a weak smile. "If you could just stop glaring at me all the time, I'd be thrilled."

"Yeah... I've really been an asshole."

"A little." You agree.

Legend raises one eye brow. "Just a little?"

"Okay a lot."

"I know." Legend says.

He does know. He knows because Wild shouted some sense into him. He knows because he examined himself. He knows because of how you watch him wearily.

Legend feels his fingers twitch with the urge to pull you close and keep you warm and safe in his embrace.

He ignores that urge for so many reasons. The biggest reason being that you have shown zero inclination to want that from him.

You seem less tense now, shoulders only a little tense as you watch him.

It's a start.

-------

Hyrule spends most of the morning hovering near you, right up until Four pulls him away to go gather more firewood for the slate. The fae wants so badly to fight but he knows he is being strange about you.

It's just-

Everyone has a capability for magic, even if the ability is technically so minute it's inconsequential. As a fae Hyrule is very good at magic and can sense magic in others.

When he was healing you yesterday... he felt your magic.

Your magic isn't anything particularly impressive. The magic you possess is enough to use potions and elemental rods but not enough to do a whole lot more.

There's nothing wrong with that, you have rather average magical thresholds so you aren't in danger of potion sickness.

The problem with your magic is that it is yet another almost identical trait you share with his honeybee. Your magic feels like home in ways he thought he could never feel again.

Hyrule has to be losing his mind.

"You need to get your head on right." Four says, interrupting the other man's spiral.

Hyrule looks over and swallows hard. "Right."

"What happened yesterday?" Four asks, eyes almost looking red for a second.

Hyrule takes a slow breath, readjusting the wood in his arms. "They got hurt yesterday... when I was healing them- their magic is- Why do they have to be so much like my honeybee?"

Four sighs. "I don't know."

"Is there any chance they're our (Y/n)?"

"I wouldn't get your hopes up." Four says firmly, eyes glinting blue for a moment.

Hyrule feels his face crumple. "I just-"

"I know." Four says, "We all know. But getting your hopes up is only going to hurt yourself worse."

"It already hurts."

Four takes a slow breath, pushing Blue's anger and Red's tears away. He understands both feelings and would love to give in to either, but he can't fall apart right now.

Right now, the blacksmith needs to keep it together against the grief beating in his heart and the splitting headache he can't escape.

"Hyrule, grief never goes away completely but you can drown in it. Our soulmate would hate to see you drown I it."

"Four..."

"You just have to hold on until we reach the next town."

Hyrule winces, "I don't know if I can."

"You have to." Four says with nothing but empathy. "We all have to."

"Just until the next town?"

"Just until then."

Hyrule sighs, swallowing hard. "Okay."

Four looks back the way they came, "We should head back."

"Who's supposed to be protecting them today?" Hyrule asks.

"I think that's Twilight and Wild."

"Okay." Hyrule says.

Four gives a weak smile, eyes almost looking green. "We're going to be okay."

"I know."

"Come on, we should hurry. Legend was being weird and I really don't want to deal with Wind trying to set the vet on fire with dirty looks." Four says as he turns to head back.

Hyrule gives a weak, performatory laugh. "Yeah... me neither."

The two make their way back to camp, silence filtering heavy in the air.

When they get back they nearly drop the woof in their arms.

You and Wind are sparring with the wooden swords again, except this time Legend is laughing when you trip over air but he offers you his hand silently.

Four is pretty sure something is weird. Legend went from so hostile you two didn't share any positive interactions to withdrawn, and now he's offering to help you up.

"Is that a changeling?" Hyrule whispers.

"I don't know."

"What did we miss?" Hyrule wonders.

Four just sighs, "Who knows."

They watch you take Legend's hand with a 'thanks'.

Hyrule sighs. "At least Wind dosen’t have to be pissy."

"Be nice." Four huffs, the tug of his lips gives him away, though.

Hyrule and Four take one last moment to remind themselves that this is just until the next town. They can pull through.

They have to.

--------

In the trees, a panther lounges, watching the group of heroes, but the animal's interest lies far more in the horse and the non-hero.

It's almost time for the large cat to introduce themself. The next town is soon, and the feline is tired of playing the long game.

By nightfall, the panther should finally be able to get to the non-hero.

Soon.

Soon, everything will be much better.

-------

Tag list: @danyzta @vrsin @silver-the-pendejo @tulip-does-stuff @justanotherweeb666 @yourlocaltreesimp @blueberrysungie @victoryssong23 @shu-leepy @sleepifonlyigoti @sour-patch-delight

#misty writes #linked universe x reader #lu written in the stars au #lu written in the stars (forever on loop) au #written in the stars au

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cyberteez · 3 months ago

Text

pt.1 - pretty

pairing ⋆ seonghwa x afab!reader

genre ⋆ smut, angst

wc ⋆ 2.6k

summary ⋆ when money is tight and rent is short, you and your partner turn to posting adult content online.

warnings ⋆ reader has anxiety, money troubles, unprotected sex, slight oral fixation, top!seonghwa, bottom!reader, creampie, multiple orgasms

networks ⋆ @illusionnet @cromernet @pirateeznet

series masterlist

"Rent's short again."

A sigh.

"I can't use my credit card again."

Silence fills the kitchen as the pair face each other. Your gaze flickers between the bills present on your dimly lit computer screen and the man that sits across from you. His polished nails drag slowly through his scalp, face contorting as he thinks.

"Well… what are we going t-" you begin.

"I don't know, pretty," he interjects, pushing air between his teeth.

Seonghwa backs away from the counter, his steps heavy as he exits the room. Disappearing down the hallway, you hear the slam of a door. Your hands cradle your face, eyes welling with unshed tears as you shut the laptop lid. This isn't what you expected when you had agreed to move in with him. To no fault of either of you, your landlord decided to raise the rent midway through your lease, straining your finances to the max. Even working nearly fifty hours in a week wasn't enough to cover your expenses in the more affluent neighborhood you had settled into. Stress ate away at your very being, leaving you cold and anxious all the time.

Seonghwa reappeared in what felt like hours. You had curled up on the couch soon after he hid himself away, blankets bunched around your figure, exhausted sleep overtaking your mind with ease. He settled next to you on the cushion, hand coming to pet your hair till you stirred. A whimper left your mouth as you stretched your legs, shifting to lay against him.

"I'm sorry," he said lowly.

"S'fine," you mumble in response.

Seonghwa stays silent for a few minutes, continuously petting your hair, untangling knots and dragging his blunt nails against your scalp. When he does speak, it surprises you. "I think I know a way to get the money."

"How?"

"You know how we've taken videos of each other?"

Your mind blanks, thinking back to times where you recorded his silly reaction to dragon's breath, or times he's taken videos of the two of you riding amusement park attractions.

"Be more specific?" You query, still not picking up what he's hinting at.

"Like… like us. In the bedroom," he sheepishly remarks.

"Ah." Is all you can manage at first. Then, "you want us to post our sex life online? Like making porn?"

His face turns a delicate shade of red as you look up at him. A giggle worms its way from your mouth, Seonghwa joining in as soon as he realized you weren't upset.

"Yea, we can do that," you answer. "You act as if we haven't chatted about this before."

It was true. The pair of you had considered it in the past, but the fear of being found by friends, family, potential or current employers were enough to make you halt. Now, the notion of being homeless and in debt outweighed anything else.

"So we're gonna become amateur porn stars, huh."

It wasn't hard to get the right supplies. You basically had everything you needed anyway. Seonghwa proposed a first person point of view during the videos, to make it feel more intimate. You had no objections.

Dressed in the prettiest and shortest pink skirt you owned and a cute cream top, you sit patiently on the bed, waiting for your lover. Your hair falls cutely around your face, framing the lacey mask that serves as a basic disguise. While not the most concealing, it would still provide some cover as to not tip off anyone you knew. You decided to go without a bra, but opted for some sweet panties that hugged your hips nicely. When Seonghwa entered the room, you almost couldn't hold your laugh in. While his facecard was beautiful, the camera attached to him looked plain silly. He basically had a go-pro on, but you reminded yourself it was for the money, so you dealt with the awkwardness.

"Is that thing gonna get the right angle?" You asked, adjusting your pose so you sat on your hands.

"We're gonna find out, I guess. It feeds to the laptop, so lemme get it set up and we can adjust from there."

After a few minutes of finagling, you both agreed on the view from the camera. His long fingers ghosted over the keys, logging into the site you would be using.

He announces, while still facing away from you, "My thought is we can do a couple basic videos to start off with, then maybe we could move to live streaming?"

You nod your head, not realizing he wouldn't know your response. Seonghwa turns around to look at you and you nod your head once more. "My bad. Yea, that sounds good to me. Ready to get started?" He nods.

Nerves buzz through your limbs, settling in your fingers that remain securely under your thighs. His gait is relaxed as he steps to the edge of the bed where you sit. He gives you a silent look. One that asks if you're ready to go through with this. You blink up at him a few times before exhaling the breath you were holding and nodding once.

A click of the camera and a red light blinking once before becoming stagnant indicates that the scene has started. Your nerves settle almost instantly. A hand smooths over the skin of your cheek, cupping it softly. To say your reaction was instantaneous wouldn't be descriptive enough. You keen into his palm, allowing him to smooth the thoughts from your mind. His fingers glide down to pinch your chin between them. He pulls your gaze up to his, whispering, "Just look at me, pretty."

Heat pools in your lower abdomen at his words, staring directly into the camera as if it were his own eyes. As the grip on your chin recedes, his thumb drags at your lower lip. You eagerly open your mouth for him, allowing him to slip the thumb inside and flatten it against your tongue. A heavy whimper falls from your open mouth, allowing him to play with it how he pleases. Your fingers itch to touch him, but you know he'd stop his motions if you did. He leans in, getting a better view at the saliva pooling in your mouth before angling downward at your tits. His free hand smoothes over your chest, cupping the bottom of one before moving on to the next. A sigh escapes his lips as he leans back, seemingly lost in thought.

Seonghwa's hand tugs the button on his pants free, pulling the sides open enough to slip his member free from the confines. Even after being with him for years, you're always shocked at how thick and long he manages to be. Your eyes flicker from the camera to his length, waiting for permission.

The thumb that rests in your mouth leaves as his hand cards through your hair, grip becoming firm as he guides you to his length. The salty precum leaking from his tip covers your tastebuds as you take him in your mouth. You moan at the taste.

His breathing becomes heavier the more you take into your mouth. Whatever you can't fit into your mouth is cradled by your hands that slipped from underneath you. A tug at your scalp has you looking up at him, eyes wide and starting to tear.

"Did I say to stop looking at me?" He asks gruffly, eyes narrowing slightly.

Your response is to take him deeper in your mouth, a slightly bratty move and momentarily gagging yourself, but providing the exact reaction you wanted. A guttural sound resounds from his throat, head tipping back as you work yourself on his length. He doesn't stop you. Pulling back to where his tips just rests in your mouth, you lick the soft underside of his head before pushing yourself to your limit.

"Fuck, pretty, you take me so well," he muses.

Breathing through your nose, you continue to take him, sucking whenever you pull back and licking at his veins whenever you push in. Tears track down your cheeks, continuously pushing past your lids whenever he bumps the back of your throat. Whines and whimpers fall from your mouth, becoming loud every time his grip tightens in your hair. Your hands cradle his balls, kneading them between your palms, eliciting breathy moans from your lover. He fights to keep the camera angle on you, desperately trying to not lose himself to the shockwaves of pleasure you give him. It doesn't take long before he's pulling you off his cock completely, pushing your body backward on the bed and flipping up your skirt. His hands greedily pull at your thighs, teasing and tickling along the innermost parts, but avoiding where you need him the most.

"So cute, pretty. Did you get all dolled up for me?" He asks, getting a better view of the panties that are currently sticking to your lips. They're nearly see through at this point, dripping from the arousal that's pooled between your legs. "And you're so worked up, aren't you? Do you think you deserve to be touched?"

You nod furiously at his words, your lower lip starting to pout. A breezy chuckle leaves his lips before his hands are tugging down the soft material, discarding it somewhere behind him. Two of his fingers spread your lower lips, giving the camera a better view of your dripping cunt. You nearly forgot you were filming, so wrapped up in giving him pleasure and chasing your own. A whine erupts from your throat the moment Seonghwa circles his fingers around your puffy and untouched clit. He smiles softly before dipping them just inside your cunt, dragging them back up to circle around your clit once more. You can tell he's testing you when he does it a few more times, a huff nearly falling from your lips at his teasing. The impatience quickly dissipates as both fingers plunge into your heat, curling up slightly before pulling back. Your head falls back against your shoulders, obscuring your face from the camera. His motions stop. You lift your head quickly, looking back at him as he shakes his head lightly.

Seonghwa resumes his motions and each time he delves inside, his fingers loosen your walls to prepare for his length. He murmurs small encouragements all the while, praising you for how pliant you are, how pretty your pussy sounds for him. Your abdomen continues to knot further and further, the coil threatening to snap at any time. His free hand rests on your clit, rubbing small circles in order to throw you into your climax. With a cry you come undone, your cunt sucking his fingers in. He continues his motions until you squirm away from his touch, pleading with him to stop.

You can hear him shuffle around and his pants hit the floor before the bed dips and he straddles you. Hands push at your shirt, freeing your tits for the camera. Seonghwa kneads at them and tugs at your nipples, giving each a slight smack. His hands travel down your hips, grabbing at your thighs to wrap them around his waist.

"Is my princess ready to take my cock?"

"Please," you beg, looking pointedly into the camera.

"Since you asked so nicely, how could I refuse?" His length glides through your folds, tapping gently against your abused clit. The motion elicits more sounds from your mouth, increasing in volume as he pushes in with one move.

"Ngh, yes," you whine when you feel his hips meet yours. One of his hands splay over your stomach, holding you down as he starts to move.

"God, fuck," he starts, "you're so tight, pretty."

The drag of his cock against your walls is delicious, rubbing everywhere you need and filling you so nicely you couldn't think of anyone but him. His pace remains consistent, but he moves your legs in different positions until they both rest against his shoulders.

You cry out at this new angle, his cock hitting the spongy patch inside with abandon. His thumb finds your mouth again and you readily open for the appendage once more. You pose for the camera, batting your wide, innocent eyes and sucking on his thumb as his hips smack heavily against your thighs. You know he's close when his pace increases, but loses rhythm. The thumb in your mouth moves to circle your clit once more. Heat pools in your belly once more, another climax threatening to unleash.

"Come on, pretty, cum with me."

It's not but seconds later when you both fall apart with each other, your walls milking him for all he has. Seonghwa doesn't immediately stop recording. Instead, he pulls out and closes in on your cunt, spreading your lips and allowing globs of cum to seep from your stretched hole. When he pans back to your sweat sheened body, he clicks the camera off.

It's like a switch clicked as soon as the camera was off and discarded on the desk nearby.

"How are you doing, baby? Let me get a cloth. Or do you want to go straight to the bath?" A smile graces your lips in response. Just like the first time you spent the night together, he's always fretted over you after you have had sex. It was something you appreciated as past partners had never considered you. You sigh contently, slowly pushing yourself up.

"Let's go take a shower and then work on editing the footage, okay?"

"Of course," he responds, taking your hand and leading the way.

Lathering soap across both of your bodies, you talk about how the scene went, praising him for providing direction so easily. His hands shake, words coming out jumbled as he attempts to compliment you. He worries over your body, taking extra care when scrubbing your scalp, easing the tension from the grip he had in your hair. Seonghwa soon scatters kisses across your shoulders, murmurs of affection and adoration filling the steamy room.

Working on the video didn't take much time as you didn't want it to look heavily edited. You sat in his lap for most of it, his arms wrapped down your waist while you gave feedback on what you could both do better next time. Posting the video was the hard part. Well… emotionally at least. You both sat there for a while, pondering titles and wondering if you would actually go through with this. It would–hopefully–provide the needed income, but you would be putting that out there forever. Anxiety crept into your being as you worried if you looked good enough for something like this. Seonghwa soothed you while you worked through the heavy feelings, rubbing your back softly and pressing kisses around your face. Nothing could compare to you is what he told you, that you were beautiful and if the viewers couldn't see it they were blind.

Eventually, you calmed down enough to ask, "what should we name it?"

It was a challenge. Trying to think of something that wasn't going to blend in with all the other content on the site but was also eye-catching enough to gain views.

"How about: Pretty? It's what I call you, and it's unique enough. As long as the tags fit then it should still be seen."

"I like it. Let's do it." Enthusiasm and warmth fills your chest as you both click on the mouse to post the finished product. You don't expect immediate views, nor do you receive them right after posting, but you hope it'll be enough to cover rent the next month.

#ateez #ateez x reader #illusionnet #cromernet #pirateeznet #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez imagines #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut #seonghwa #cyberteez #cyberteezwrites

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mononijikayu · 4 months ago

Text

toxic till the end — fushiguro toji.

“You can’t fix everything. You should know that.” you replied, your words trembling as they left your lips. “I don’t know if I can ever forget that.” He nodded slowly, his expression one of deep regret. “I know.” Silence grew once more between the two of you. You could feel the tears pricking your eyes harshly. And you could tell that he was noticing as much as you.

GENRE: alternate universe - actor/s au!;

WARNING/S: afab! reader, nsfw, r-18, smut, making out, biting, scratching, kissing, rough sex, p-i-v sex, fingering (female receiving), creampie, pet names (babe, etc....), age gap (reader is late 20s, toji is mid 30s) love, humor, light-hearted, long-term relationship, secret relationship, cheating, break-up, falling out of love, toxic relationship, drama, depression, grief, sexual intercourse, depictions of sexual acts, depiction of naked bodies, depiction of cheating, depiction of grief, depiction of depression, mention of sexual innuendo, mention of sexual intercourse, actor! toji, actor! reader;

WORD COUNT: 15k words

NOTE: i know i disappeared for almost a week and im really sorry,,,,,i just wasn't feeling well and in the middle of that - i was also busy. i genuinely wanted to publish something but there were things that came up - including me finishing a commission. and also worrying about uni stuff. its a really long one, i still have stuff to edit for bonus cuts for that. i am really sorry but i come back with a fury with toji!!! anyway, i hope my absence didnt make yall leave. enjoy and i love yall :']

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the good life ― masterlist.

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YOU NEVER LIKED BEING PERCEIVED. Even if you were an actor, you didn’t want to be. You absolutely hated the attention, you hated having to be known to people you didn’t know on the street.

He knew that. Which is why you never allowed yourself to go on dates with him in that local restaurant. Or ever allow yourself to be comfortable kissing him, knowing paparazzis were following you both.

But he was loud about his love for you. He always has been. It was obvious when he looked at you during press tours. It was obvious when he heard the sound of your name and smiled like it was the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.

He was never good at hiding the fact that he was in love. That’s just how it was with loving a man so magnetic and passionate as him. He tried to convince you that he wanted the world to know.

Yet, you weren’t prepared to do that. You weren’t prepared for the world to know, for the world to be in your bed. You didn’t want everyone to know that you were his, because you were scared. You were scared of what could happen.

You’ve gone through the trauma of it before, your own ex–boyfriend announcing the break–up before you even knew about the break up. And all the people that hated you, for making him sad. For all those fantasies in their head of all the things you did wrong. You were frightful that it would repeat all over again.

Perhaps he got tired of that. Perhaps he got tired of waiting. Maybe he got tired of you. And you were scared of that. You were scared that this was the case.

You were horrified that he would do the same thing like that ex-boyfriend you loved before. You didn’t want to manifest it. But you also didn’t make a move. You were right. He would get tired of you. You made it this way. You let this happen.

The apartment was eerily silent, the kind of silence that pressed down on you, making every breath feel heavier. You stood in the living room, arms crossed, heart racing as you waited for Toji to come home. He had a late night shoot, he told you. They’d extended the shoot, because of the weather. That’s what he said in the next text. He won’t be home until today.

But as you waited home, all that plagued your mind was the conversation with your friend this morning. You felt sick as the words repeated over the phone.

It won’t go away, not even when you want it to. It remained ever so present, still echoing, hammering deep in your mind. It was as if the weight of her words settled deep in your chest like a knife would.

"I saw Toji last night." she had said, her voice hesitant. "He was with someone else."

“What….what do you mean by that?” You muttered back at her, still reeling from the words that slipped from her mouth. “Surely it was just another cast member—”

“They were kissing, babes.” She told you earnestly, yet you could tell she was having a hard time with it. She knew that everything she’s saying was breaking your heart. “I’m so sorry.”

“No…no, thank you for telling me.”

You hung up after that. You didn’t know what else to say. What could you have said that could have made it any better? You couldn’t think of anything. All that remained were the years of memories together, now scattered across that empty space where love should be.

The betrayal, the doubt, and the fear had been building in that space where you should feel your love for him. A place where it is still there, that love, bleeding and tattered by all that grief that comes with mourning the relationship. And now, standing here in the place you both called home, it felt like you were about to explode.

The door clicked open just around lunch time. You had remembered you had given Toji a separate key for your house. Just as you had a key for his. You didn’t want to see him just yet. Not right now. Fushiguro Toji stepped in, face covered by the levelling of his cap. His usual confident demeanor clouded by an unease you hadn’t seen before. He looked at you, the tension in the air immediately palpable.

Babe, didn’t know you’d be awake." he said, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

"You said you’d never do that to me." you replied, your voice trembling with a mix of hurt and anger. “You said you wouldn’t be like him.”

He nodded, closing the door behind him. "Alright. What’s going on?"

"I know you were with someone else last night, and you kissed her. My friend saw you." you spat, your voice breaking with the anger and pain you kept hidden. "How could you do this? How could you betray me like that?"

His eyes widened, and for a moment, he looked caught off guard. Then his expression hardened. "It’s not what you think."

"Not what I think?" you repeated, your voice rising. "Then explain it to me, Toji. Explain why you were out with someone else while I was here, thinking everything was fine."

"I was tired, okay?" he snapped back, his voice louder now, the frustration evident. "Tired of feeling like I’m not enough, like I’m just waiting for you to trust me."

“How long has it been?” You asked him. “How long have you and your lover been going behind my back?”

“Babe—”

“How long?”

He looked away, the contorting guilt bellowing all over his face. This was a look you had seen time and time again. “A few months.”

"A few months." You repeated.

“Yes, but it was casual hook ups and she has a boyfriend too—”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” you shouted, tears streaming down your face. "You think that’s going to fix anything?"

"I didn’t plan for it to happen." he said, his voice softening, but the damage was done. "I was just... I felt alone."

"You felt alone?" you repeated, the hurt in your voice cutting through the air. "What about me, Toji? Do you have any idea how alone I’ve felt, wondering if you’d get tired of me, if you’d leave me like everyone else has?"

He took a step closer, his expression filled with regret. "I never wanted to hurt you."

"But you did." you whispered, the fight leaving your body as the weight of it all pressed down on you. "God, I just….is it my fault? Is it because I have a busy schedule? Or is it just because I haven’t allowed the world to know about you? And you were desperate to be seen with someone?”

He shook his head. “That’s not the case.”

“It seems to look like it.” You laughed to yourself, almost mad in the thought of your grief. “You did say she had a boyfriend. I doubt that would have changed much, if she knew that you belonged to someone.”

He took a step closer, his eyes searching yours, filled with a regret that almost made your heart ache. His voice, usually so steady, trembled with sincerity. "Please, let’s talk about this. I can make this right."

The words hung in the air, heavy and bittersweet. You wanted to believe him, to let those words soothe the rawness inside you. But they felt too late, like a balm for wounds already too deep. You shook your head, the fight draining from your body as the weight of it all pressed down on you.

"You cheated on me. So brazenly." you whispered, your voice barely audible, laced with pain. "Just like he has. Just like every other man I’ve ever let into my life." The admission stung, the truth of it settling in your chest like a stone.

“Babe…..”

"Maybe you were just another number, another ex."

His face twisted in anguish, his hands clenching at his sides. "Babe, please, listen to me—"

“I’ve listened to you long enough.” Your voice was soft but firm, carrying the finality of a decision made. Tears blurred your vision, hot and relentless, streaking down your cheeks. “Just... leave your keys. I’m going. I can’t stand to look at you or stay with you here.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Toji's gaze faltered, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something more, to plead, to explain. But no words came. Slowly, he reached into his pocket, pulling out the keys that once symbolized shared moments, shared spaces, and placed them gently on the table.

“I’m sorry.” he said, his voice barely a whisper, a final echo of the love that had once been so vibrant between you.

You didn’t respond. There was nothing left to say. You turned, each step feeling heavier than the last as you walked away, leaving behind the remnants of a relationship that had once held so much promise. The door clicked shut behind you, the sound resonating like a chapter closing.

After that, he took all his stuff from your place and left. Even the keys. And you were glad he did. You were glad he wasn’t there. You blocked his number, you told your friends to stop relaying any messages from him he sent. You even cancelled any appearances with him for work, especially those for the Japanese leg of the press tour for Jujutsu Kaisen.

And then you disappeared, as though you didn’t exist.

You moved apartments, you didn’t tell anyone where you were. Only your manager knew, just so you could make it easier for her to pick you up for work schedules when you start doing them again. And changed phones and deleted your social media presence. You just wanted to be alone. You wanted to process the death of a seven year relationship.

Over half a year later, they start to see you again. The last they had seen you, you were still red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. You had explained that you dealt with some personal loss, which wasn’t untrue. People had speculations, they always have. But you didn’t want to admit to anything. You just let them have their fun and you let yourself have your grief.

The mirror had become a stranger for a while, reflecting someone you barely recognized, a shadow of the person you once were with Toji. The truest you had been yourself was with him. And now you have lost that. You had lost the version of yourself you had loved so dearly. And you hated how that too had revolved around him. Your most beloved life was him.

You hadn't planned on disappearing, not really. But each day felt heavier, each step harder to take, until retreating into the quiet solace of your loneliness and grief became the only thing you could manage.

And everyone in your agency was understanding of that. You haven’t truly taken a break in your entire career. And with that burn out, as much as the heartache, you had to have your time to yourself.

Little by little, you started to pick yourself up from the ruins of the failed relationship. Little by little you found yourself able to breathe again, even though you were still against the crashing waves of pain. At the very least there was some progress. At least you were getting somewhere.

Though, you couldn’t escape him. How could you, when he was so beloved by the world? Every corner of your world seemed to echo with the ghost of him. His face, smiling and confident, stared down at you from every billboard, a constant reminder of what you had lost years of your life to. Years you were the prettiest to yourself.

His voice filled the airwaves, every interview a cruel twist of fate, his laughter a haunting melody that played on repeat in your mind. Fushiguro Toji. His name was a bittersweet whisper, both a comfort and a curse, lingering in the recesses of your heart.

No one else knew that you had broken up. It was a secret you held close, it was a grief that belonged to you and only you. It was a wound too fresh and raw to expose to the world.

You hadn’t found the courage to say anything, convinced that speaking it aloud would make it all too real. Besides, you believed you didn’t have to explain yourself to anyone. Your pain was yours alone, a private storm that no one else could weather.

As you walked through the winding streets of Tokyo, the city lights blurred against your vision, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. The vibrant energy of the city felt distant, a stark contrast to the numbness that enveloped you. The world moved on, oblivious to the turmoil within you.

No one understood what you felt. No one probably ever would. It wasn’t just the loss of a relationship; it was the loss of a dream, a shared future that had unraveled before your eyes. The quiet moments, the laughter, the unspoken promises. They were all gone, leaving behind an emptiness that you didn’t know how to fill.

You kept walking, the sounds of the city fading into the background, your mind a whirlwind of memories and emotions. The ache in your chest was a constant reminder of what once was, and what could never be again. But even in the midst of the pain, you knew you couldn’t stay hidden forever. Life was waiting, and somehow, you had to find a way to live it again.

The door to your apartment closed behind you with a soft click, but the silence inside felt deafening. You slipped off your shoes and let your bag fall to the floor, the weight of the day pressing heavily on your shoulders. The familiar surroundings felt foreign now, as if the air itself had shifted, carrying the remnants of memories you weren’t ready to face.

You wandered through the small space, your eyes scanning the room aimlessly. You knew you should do something, anything to distract yourself. So you started cleaning, hoping the mundane task would occupy your mind. You wiped down the counters, straightened the cushions, and folded the laundry. But every movement felt mechanical, your thoughts drifting back to him.

Then you saw it—his jacket. Your mouth went agape at the sight of it. It hung innocuously by the door, just as it always had when he would visit your apartment. You didn’t know you still had it, from the move. You didn’t know the movers packed it too. He didn’t take it with him when he left the house.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. It was the same jacket he had worn countless times, the one that carried his scent, a mixture of cologne and something uniquely him. Without thinking, you reached out, your fingers grazing the fabric.

The moment you touched it, the floodgates opened. The tears came fast and uncontrollable, pouring down your face as you clutched the jacket to your chest. You sank to the floor, the weight of your sorrow too much to bear.

The scent of him enveloped you, bringing back a rush of memories. His arms around you, his laugh, the way he would kiss your forehead when you were feeling down.

You cried for everything you had lost. For the love you had poured into a man who could never fully be yours. A man older, with a life that always seemed just out of reach. A man who cherished his independence, who was never truly tethered to you in the way you had hoped. You had given him your prettiest years, the best of yourself, only to be left with the pieces of a broken heart.

Tomorrow was the shoot, and you knew you had to pull yourself together. The contract was signed long before the breakup, back when you thought working together would be another way to share your dreams, your passions, your lives. Now, it was the weight pulling you into a reality you weren’t ready to face.

Tonight, the pain was too fresh, too overwhelming. How could you stop crying when every corner of your life was a reminder of him? When his presence still lingered in the smallest things, like a ghost haunting the spaces you once shared?

You stayed there, curled on the floor, clutching the jacket as the tears continued to fall. It wasn’t just about losing him. It was about losing the future you had imagined, the dreams you had built together.

And as the night stretched on, you let yourself grieve, knowing that somehow, you had to find the strength to face tomorrow. But for now, all you could do was cry.

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MORNING ALWAYS DOES COME. And when it does, you try to make the effort to still stand on your own two toes. When the morning came, exhausted and numb, there you were facing the inevitable.

You bowed to everyone, greeting them with as much enthusiasm as you could muster. You smiled as though there was no problem at all. Chattered and sat there on the make–up chair like nothing had happened. As if there was nothing at all that shattered you to nothing.

The studio lights felt harsher than you remembered, their unforgiving brightness illuminating every inch of the set—and every crack in your heart. It was as if they knew, as if they were exposing the rawness inside you, the pain you had tried so hard to bury. The bustling crew moved around you, adjusting cameras, checking props, but their chatter seemed distant, muffled by the storm in your mind.

You couldn’t help but feel nervous, your hands trembling ever so slightly. It felt strange, almost surreal, like this was your first time stepping in front of the camera. You had done this a hundred times before, but today was different.

Today, you were a different person. The warmth of reassurance that once came from a simple touch, his hand brushing against yours, his quiet, steady presence—was gone. You were on your own now, and the weight of that reality pressed down on you like a heavy cloak.

You swallowed hard, the bile rising in your throat as the familiar sting of tears threatened to break free. Your muscles tensed, contorting as you fought the overwhelming urge to let go, to release the tears that had been building up inside you. But you didn’t. You wouldn’t. You couldn’t let yourself fall apart here, not now.

Not now, you repeat to yourself, a mantra you clung to with every ounce of strength you had left. You didn’t want it. You didn’t want the tears, the loneliness, the pain. You didn’t need it. You had told yourself this over and over again. You didn’t need to feel this, not here, not under the glaring scrutiny of the studio lights and the watchful eyes of everyone around you.

Your breaths came in shallow, shaky gulps as you forced yourself to focus, to channel everything into the character you were about to portray. The lines blurred between the role you played and the person you were, but you clung to that thin line of separation, hoping it would hold. This was your sanctuary, your escape. If you could just hold on a little longer, maybe the pain wouldn’t consume you.

You could do this, you told yourself.

You could survive this, you know you could.

It’s only for a few weeks of this misery.

But as you lifted your eyes, you saw him again.

And all that resolve dissolved almost instantly.

Fushiguro Toji stood across the room, talking to the director, his usual charm evident in the way his shoulders shook with laughter. The sound of it, rich and familiar, carried across the set, drawing the attention of those nearby. He looked relaxed, his posture loose, his smile easy. He seemed to be in happy spirits, more than the last time you saw him.

It was a sharp contrast to the last memory you had of him—tense, conflicted, the weight of your shared history etched into every line of his face. But now, he seemed lighter, as if the burden of your breakup had lifted from his shoulders. The sight of him like this stirred a mix of emotions within you. Jealousy, sadness, and an aching longing you tried to suppress.

You watched from a distance, your gaze lingering longer than you intended. It was painful, seeing him so carefree, as if nothing had changed, as if the past weeks hadn’t unraveled you both. But there he was, moving through the room with an ease that seemed effortless, while you struggled to keep your composure.

The director clapped him on the back, and Toji’s laugh echoed again, brighter this time. You quickly averted your eyes, pretending to busy yourself with your script, but the image of him remained imprinted in your mind. It was harder than you thought it would be, being in the same space, breathing the same air, while feeling worlds apart.

For a moment, you wondered if he had truly moved on, or if this was just a façade, a mask to hide whatever he might still be feeling. But you pushed the thought away. It didn’t matter. What mattered now was surviving this day, this scene, and the countless others that would follow. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the inevitable interaction. You had to face him eventually.

The director’s voice cut through the low hum of the studio, calling for everyone to take their places. “Alright, let’s get started! Everyone, introduce yourselves before we begin.”

You took a deep breath, forcing your shoulders to relax as you stepped forward with the rest of the cast. The weight of the moment pressed heavily on your chest, but you reminded yourself to stay calm, to keep it together.

Your eyes, however, betrayed you, flickering towards Toji for the briefest second before you snapped them away, focusing instead on a point somewhere beyond him. You were a professional. You had done this countless times before. You had been through worse—or so you told yourself. You could do this. You had to do this.

As the introductions began, your turn loomed closer. Each name and face passed by in a blur until the spotlight shifted to you. You bowed to each and every one, smiling at them as best you could even though you couldn’t process it all just yet.

“Hello, nice to meet you all!” you said, introducing yourself. Your voice is steady despite the storm within. “It’s great to be working with everyone.”

Your words were polite, professional, and utterly detached. At least you notice it. But the others didn’t seem to. You could see the blur in all their smiles towards you, shining in a way you couldn’t recognize. You barely registered the murmured responses of the others, your focus pinned on keeping your composure. Then it was Toji’s turn.

He stepped forward, his presence commanding as always. “Fushiguro Toji.” he said, his voice carrying effortlessly across the room. There was a familiar warmth in his tone, one that made your heart clench. “Looking forward to working with all of you.”

His blue–green eyes flicked to you, just for a moment, but it was enough to send a ripple of tension through your body. You held his gaze for a heartbeat longer than you intended, before quickly looking away, pretending to be engrossed in the script in your hands.

The director clapped his hands together, breaking the moment. “Alright, let’s dive into it! Remember, the first scene is a heavy scene, so take your time and feel it out. Call for a cut any time you want to. So let’s start, like we rehearsed.”

You nodded at the director. Everyone moved to their places, and you found yourself standing just a few feet away from Toji. The air between you felt charged, the unspoken history hanging like a shadow over the set. He glanced at you, his expression unreadable.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice softer now, almost cautious.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. “Yeah.” you murmured, your eyes fixed on the floor.

Toji hesitated for a moment, as if he wanted to say more, but the director called for action, and just like that, you were thrust into the scene. The lines between fiction and reality blurred once again, and all you could do was hold on and hope you made it through without falling apart.

As the cameras rolled and the scene began, you pushed everything else aside, locking the pain away in a corner of your heart. The studio lights continued to shine, harsh and unrelenting, but you stood your ground. You didn’t need your tears. You didn’t need your loneliness. All you needed was to make it through this moment. And somehow, you would.

The first scene couldn’t have been more ironic if the universe had written it itself. A husband and wife, embroiled in a bitter argument, their marriage on the brink of collapse. Every word in the script seemed like a cruel reflection of your own reality. The dialogue cut too close, each line a dagger, the emotions too raw to ignore.

You had told yourself you could handle it, that you could compartmentalize the character’s turmoil from your own. But as the words spilled from your lips, it felt as if the character had seized control of your body, dragging all your buried feelings to the surface, laying them bare for everyone to see.

“Why don’t you ever listen to me?” you shouted, your voice cracking with the weight of suppressed emotion. The accusation wasn’t just a line; it was a scream from your heart. “You’re always so wrapped up in your own world! What about us? What about me?”

The tears that pricked your eyes weren’t from the script. They were your own, threatening to fall, the pain of the breakup echoing in every syllable. Across from you, Toji’s eyes darkened, his expression hardening as he stepped into his character. His voice, sharp and filled with a familiar bitterness, mirrored your own anguish.

“Don’t act like I’m the only one who made mistakes!” he shot back, his tone rising, the frustration palpable. “You think it’s easy, carrying the weight of everything? Maybe if you tried to understand instead of blame—”

“Understand?” you interrupted, your voice trembling with the effort to hold back tears. The sting in your eyes blurred your vision, but you pressed on. “I’ve tried! I’ve given everything, and it’s never enough for you!”

The room felt electric, the tension between you both so thick it was as if the air itself might shatter under the weight of it. Each word hung in the air, resonating with a truth neither of you could ignore.

The director’s voice called out, “Cut! Let’s take a moment.”

The tension didn’t dissipate with the end of the scene. It lingered, heavy and suffocating, as if the raw emotions couldn’t be contained by the simple call for a break. You stood there, your chest heaving with the effort of keeping your tears at bay, your hands clenched into fists at your sides.

Toji remained across from you, his jaw tight, his eyes still locked onto yours. For a moment, neither of you moved, as if frozen in the aftermath of the words that had been exchanged—not just between the characters, but between the two of you.

You stood frozen, your chest heaving as the emotions coursed through you. Toji turned to face you, his expression unreadable. You saw him take a step toward you, and panic clawed at your chest, but you forced yourself to stay put. Running away wouldn’t solve anything. You had to face this, face him.

“Hey.” Toji said softly, his voice gentler than it had been during the scene. “Are you okay?”

You swallowed hard, nodding even though your body betrayed you with a slight tremble. “Yeah. Just… caught me off guard, that’s all.”

He looked at you for a moment, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to gauge how much of the scene was acting and how much was real. “It felt real.” he admitted, his tone cautious. “Too real.”

“Yeah.” You murmured, not looking at him. You didn’t want to. You didn’t know if you were prepared to just yet.

The tension between you and Toji was palpable, thick like fog, clouding every inch of the set. You stood there, heart pounding, as the reality of the situation settled deeper into your bones. This was not just a fleeting moment; this was going to be every day, side by side, pretending like everything was fine when it was far from it.

Toji shifted on his feet, his usual confidence seemingly faltering as he took in your guarded expression. “I didn’t think you’d come today.” he admitted, his voice lower, more vulnerable than you remembered. “Thought you’d call in sick.”

“I didn’t have much of a choice. I have a job to do.” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “Besides….you showed up too.”

Silence befell the two of you after those words. You started fidgeting with your fingers, something you would do when you were nervous. As you feel your throat closed up, you purse your lips into a flat line. You thought it was time to walk away, to take your time away from him before the next take.

Finally, Toji broke the silence, stepping closer, his voice lower but no less intense. “It was just acting.” he said, his tone softer, almost vulnerable. “I’m sorry for my tone.”

You swallowed hard, your throat constricting. “So was I.” You whispered, your voice barely audible.

The tears you had been holding back now threatened to spill over, but you refused to let them fall. Not here. Not in front of him. Toji’s gaze grew softer as he looked at you, the anger from the take earlier melting into something more akin to sorrow. Something you think you were more familiar with.

“I didn’t want things to end that way.” He admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Can we not talk about it—”

“But I want to.” He tells you in his retort, abruptly cutting you off. “I need to. I want to fix everything.”

“You can’t fix everything. You should know that.” you replied, your words trembling as they left your lips. “I don’t know if I can ever forget that.”

He nodded slowly, his expression one of deep regret. “I know.”

Silence grew once more between the two of you.

You could feel the tears pricking your eyes harshly.

And you could tell that he was noticing as much as you.

He nodded slowly, his gaze dropping to the floor before meeting yours again. “I’m glad you’re here….at least.” he said quietly, sincerity lacing his words. “I know it’s hard, but maybe… maybe we can find a way to make this work.”

You almost laughed, the irony of it all hitting you. “Make this work?” you repeated, your voice tinged with disbelief. “You mean like how we were supposed to make us work?”

Toji winced, the pain in your words cutting through him. “I didn’t mean it like that, you know that.” he said softly. “Look, I….I know I hurt you. I know things didn’t go the way we wanted. But this project… it’s important to both of us. Can we at least try to be civil? For the sake of the work?”

You bit your lip, torn between the urge to lash out and the need to maintain some semblance of professionalism. “Civil.” you echoed, testing the word on your tongue. “I guess we can try.”

He offered a small, hesitant smile. “Thank you.”

A tense silence settled again before he spoke once more. “Look, I don’t want to make things harder than they already are. If you need space, I’ll give it to you. Just... don’t shut me out completely.”

Your heart ached at his words, but you forced yourself to stay composed. “Space would be good.” you agreed, your voice firmer now. “Let’s just focus on the work. That’s all we need to do.”

Toji nodded, accepting your terms. “Okay. Work it is.”

The director called for everyone to reset for the next take, but the two of you remained locked in place, the world around you fading into the background. It was a moment of unspoken understanding, a shared pain that neither of you could fully articulate. As the crew moved around you, preparing for the next shot, Toji took a step back, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer.

“Let’s get through this.” he said quietly, his voice carrying a weight that spoke of more than just the scene ahead. “We owe it to ourselves.”

You nodded, unable to speak, and turned away. Your assistant handed you the script once again and you found yourself trying to focus on the script in your hands. The show had to go on, but the lines between fiction and reality had never felt so blurred.

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, a mix of relief and sorrow washing over you. This was your new reality. It probably always will, when people like your chemistry together.

You are going to be stuck working side by side with the man who broke your heart. But as you watched him go, you realized something: you weren’t the same person you were before. You had been broken, yes, but you were also stronger now.

You knew that. And maybe, just maybe, that strength would see you through this. You took a deep breath, squaring your shoulders. The day had only just begun. But you were praying that he doesn’t look at you with that look in his eyes again.

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DAYS ON SET BECAME A NEW STANDARD OF LIVING. You haven’t been sure you were used to it yet after a long time away, but you were sure about to get there. At least that’s what you’ve been telling yourself.

As the days turned into weeks, the rhythm of the shoot became oddly familiar. Early morning calls, practice for heavy scenes, dress rehearsal, the chaos of set preparation, and the god awful long night to morning shoots.

This was the relentless cycle of takes transformed into your new daily standard routine. You and Toji fell into an unspoken pattern between the two of you, though. But you had to be, if you wanted to keep your jobs. It was a strange thing to witness, if one was being honest. It took a lot of effort to memorize the dance. And every bit of that was equal parts effortless and exhausting.

On the surface, you were professionals—co-workers delivering lines, executing roles, keeping up appearances. Especially him, he was your senpai too. He was good at maintaining that mask on him more than you were.

But beneath the polished veneer, tension simmered, weaving itself into every glance, every exchange, every shared silence. You could tell just by looking at his eyes. No one else but you could do that, after all.

The studio became your shared battlefield, its walls echoing with unspoken words. You threw yourself into the work, burying raw emotions beneath layers of performance day after day.

But when the director yelled for the cut, you knew that the veil dropped most instantaneously. And that always leaves you vulnerable to the presence of the man who had once been your everything.

Fushiguro Toji was close enough to touch yet felt a world away from you. And you were certain that he felt the same way about you too. After all, you had a wall he couldn’t reach. You wouldn’t let him reach it. There was no way for him to know what to do with you.

But this doesn’t stop you from looking. Nor did it stop him from doing the same thing. You had noticed everything about him and what he does. It was obvious how hard it is to be exes on set. It was even harder when you were soulmates.

There was the slight hesitation in his laugh, the way his smile sometimes faltered at the edges. He was both familiar and foreign, a stranger wearing a face you had loved. Everything about him was something you knew and everything about him was something that was a mystery. It was a really intriguing thing. And that was the worst thing of all. You were intrigued about the man you loved and hated all at once.

Conversations were sparse at first, clinical and focused on the work. You both clung to professionalism like a lifeline, avoiding anything that might hint at the depth of your shared history. The lines were clear: scenes, blocking, timing, delivery. Anything beyond that was dangerous territory.

You were determined to keep things professional, to relegate your relationship to the sterile confines of work. But no matter how hard you tried, the walls you’d built between yourselves began to splinter under the weight of the unspoken.

The first crack came during a late-night shoot. The two of you stood under the harsh glow of the heavy set lights, running through lines while the crew adjusted the framing. Toji, leaning casually against a prop table, smirked at a mistake you made while stumbling over a particularly convoluted line.

“That’s the third time now.” he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear. There was a teasing edge to it, but it was softer than you remembered.

You shot him a sharp look. “Thanks for keeping count.” you replied, your tone clipped, though your lips twitched against your will.

His smirk widened, but there was no malice in it, just a faint warmth. “You’re welcome. I thought I’d help out since you seem… preoccupied.”

You rolled your eyes, brushing him off. “Preoccupied with carrying this scene, maybe.”

The banter was fleeting, but it lingered in the air long after the cameras rolled again. Once again, you did the best you could and continued to bring your spirits up. As the night progressed, the director started to feel a little bit more satisfied with one or two shots. And that had at least allowed you the hope of going to sleep soon.

Later, during one of the scene changes, you caught him watching you as you adjusted your new costume. He didn’t look away quickly enough, and your eyes met. For a moment, the distance between you felt less insurmountable, the years of hurt and silence shrinking into the space of a single glance. That glance was the longest moment of your life, you were sure.

“What?” you asked, a touch defensive, your voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitated, as if debating whether to respond, then shrugged. “Nothing. You just… remind me of something.”

You wanted to press him, to ask what he meant, but the vulnerability in his expression stopped you. His eyes, usually so guarded, were uncharacteristically soft, as if he was on the verge of saying something he couldn’t quite bring himself to voice.

Instead of pushing, you turned back to the mirror, pretending not to notice the way his gaze lingered, tracing the reflection of your face as though searching for something. It was recognition, understanding, forgiveness.

But then you caught yourself. The silence was becoming unbearable, the air between you thick with things neither of you dared to say. You cleared your throat, the sound breaking the tension like a sharp crack in the stillness.

“We should start rehearsing.” you said, your voice steady, though your heart was racing. “For the scene.”

For a moment, Toji didn’t respond. He seemed to weigh your words, as though deciding whether to challenge the sudden shift or let it go. Finally, he tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing in quiet disbelief.

“...Are you comfortable doing that with me?” he asked, his tone careful, hesitant. It wasn’t the confident Toji you remembered, the one who always seemed so sure of himself, even when everything around him was chaotic. This was different—softer, almost unsure.

You hesitated, the question throwing you off balance. There was a part of you that wanted to lash out, to let him know how much his presence still affected you, how rehearsing with him wasn’t just work. But you swallowed it down, forcing yourself to focus on the here and now.

“Yeah, why not?” you replied, shrugging as though it didn’t matter. Your tone was light, almost dismissive, but the tension in your voice betrayed you.

Toji’s lips twitched, not quite a smile but not entirely neutral either. “Why not, huh….” he echoed softly, more to himself than to you. He took a step closer, crossing into your personal space but stopping just short of overstepping.

“Okay.” he said finally, his voice steady now, though his eyes still carried that flicker of something unresolved. “Let’s rehearse.”

You nodded, turning away from the mirror and moving toward the small table where the script sat. You busied yourself with flipping through the pages, anything to avoid looking at him directly. But you knew, you could feel it — he was looking at you and only you.

As you both settled into the familiar rhythm of line-reading, the tension between you didn’t fade entirely, but it softened, shaped by the shared focus on the work. There were moments, brief but poignant, where you caught glimpses of the man you had once known in the way he delivered a line or the way he watched you deliver yours.

Yet you knew when you said these things, you knew it would be bad. You knew they would hit too close to home, too personal. And that was what happened. When the two of you were finally shooting the emotional scene, it was more real than your practice and perhaps, that’s what fueled your acting.

The dialogue was heavy, charged with the kind of raw emotion that mirrored your real-life tension a little too closely. It was a confrontation scene this time around—a breaking point between two lovers teetering on the edge of collapse. As you delivered the lines you had practiced, the words felt too personal, too sharp, cutting into wounds that hadn’t fully healed. And you hated it.

“That’s all you ever do, isn’t it?” your character accused, the anger in your voice reverberating through the silent set. “You push people away the second they get too close. You think it’s easier to walk away than to face what you’ve done.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You could feel every pair of eyes in the room on you, the weight of the moment pressing down like a vice. But your focus was on Toji.

He stood across from you, his character’s guilt written across his face, but there was something else there—something unspoken that made your chest tighten. Somehow, it was his real face. Somehow, it was his truest blossom of regret.

The director called for a break, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. The crew scattered, murmuring amongst themselves, but the energy in the room remained electric, charged with the kind of intensity that couldn’t simply be switched off.

You turned away quickly, grabbing a water bottle from the craft table. Your hands were trembling slightly, your pulse still racing. You focused on the coolness of the bottle against your skin, anything to ground yourself, to pull you out of the emotional spiral the scene had sent you into.

“You okay?” Toji’s voice came from behind you, quiet but insistent.

You stiffened, refusing to turn around. “I’m fine. Just… in the scene.”

“Right.” he said, but there was a note of skepticism in his voice. “You sure that’s all it is?”

Something in his tone made you snap. You spun around to face him, your eyes blazing. “Why? Do you think I’m talking about you?”

Toji’s jaw tightened, his posture rigid. For a moment, his mask of calm slipped, and the vulnerability beneath it was laid bare. “I don’t know.” he said, his voice low and even. “Are you?”

The question hung between you, the weight of it almost unbearable. His gaze locked onto yours, unflinching, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to blur, leaving just the two of you standing there, raw and exposed.

“What if I was?” you shot back, your voice quieter now, but no less sharp. “Would it even matter?”

His lips parted as if to respond, but no words came. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, neither of you willing to back down, yet both too afraid to fully engage. Before either of you could break the impasse, a crew member approached, clipboard in hand.

“We’re resetting for the next take.” they announced, oblivious to the charged atmosphere. “Five minutes.”

You tore your gaze away from Toji, nodding curtly at the crew member and quietly thanked them before turning on your heel and walking away. Your footsteps echoed in the cavernous studio, each one feeling heavier than the last.

As you retreated to the corner of the set, you could feel Toji’s eyes on you, his presence lingering like a ghost. Even as the crew busied themselves with preparations and the director barked instructions, the tension between you remained, an invisible thread pulling tauter with every passing moment.

You leaned against a prop, exhaling shakily, trying to center yourself. The scene was over, but the emotions it had stirred up were still thrumming through your veins. And as much as you tried to tell yourself otherwise, you knew this wasn’t just about the script. This was about the two of you—about all the things you’d left unsaid and all the wounds that still refused to heal.

══════════════════

YOU HADN’T READ THE NEXT PART OF THE SCRIPT YET. You had been too emotionally exhausted about what you had been doing for work that you had put off reading the script. Which was fine, you were able to memorize things easily when you see it long enough. That’s why you have this sort of career in the first place.

So the next morning, you arrived on set early with your manager. You greeted everyone as you were clutching your script tightly in your hands. Your manager quickly greeted everyone and went to you, before telling you that he’ll get you both coffee from the coffee truck. You nodded at her, telling her that you’ll just be sitting on the trailer.

It had become a habit, one you told yourself was about preparation — ‘it will work out’; but deep down you knew it was also a way to mentally brace yourself for whatever the day might bring. You have told yourself that phrase for years now, but perhaps, it didn’t hit as hard as it has now. Much more because you were working with the man you were in a relationship with for quite a lot of years.

Working with Fushiguro Toji was a constant balancing act, teetering on the edge of professionalism and the unresolved tension that hung between you like a storm cloud storming away with its raging thunder and its hurling battering rains. That was just what it was, when you were working with someone you still had unresolved issues with.

You settled into your usual corner, flipping through the script for the day’s scenes. You moved to take the pen from your bag, and started highlighting things you wanted to work on and things you wanted to ask for feedback from the director. As you skimmed the pages, your eyes caught on a block of stage directions that made your stomach drop. A part you hadn’t seen just yet.

Hiruka steps closer to Suzaku, their faces just barely inches apart. The tension between them is palpable, one that pushes them together like gravity and after a beat, they kiss.

Your mouth went agape at what you had just read. This was not what you expected. You clutched your heart, feeling how it skipped a beat. For a moment, you just stared at the words, as if doing so would somehow make them disappear. But they didn’t. The scene was there, in black and white, unavoidable.

"Everything okay?" a voice broke through your thoughts. One of the assistant directors, passing by with a clipboard, glanced at you with mild concern.

You forced a smile, nodding. “Yeah. Just going over the script.”

She nodded, already distracted by another crew member waving her down, and you exhaled slowly, your mind racing. You haven't kissed Toji since… well, since before everything had fallen apart.

The idea of doing it now, even in character, felt like reopening a wound you’d barely managed to scab over. Even though it had been six, seven months since the breakup, the thought still wasn’t something you had gotten used to. The memories of what had been lingered like a ghost, haunting the edges of your mind whenever you let your guard down.

But then again, no one knew you were dating. To everyone else, you were just friends. Friends and co-workers. That was the story they had always known, the one you had carefully curated and protected. It wasn’t their fault—they didn’t see the quiet moments shared off-set, the way his hand used to linger on yours, the stolen kisses behind closed doors, the whispered promises of something that had felt so certain at the time.

You… you weren’t ready to tell anyone. The idea of opening up that part of your life to the world had felt too vulnerable, too risky. So you had kept it quiet, only sharing the truth with a handful of people you trusted—close friends who had sworn to keep your secret. Back then, it had felt like the right choice, like something sacred and yours to guard.

Now, though, it felt like a double-edged sword. No one on set knew about the history between you and Toji, which meant no one understood how charged this scene truly was. They didn’t know how much it would take to get through it without letting the weight of the past seep into every glance, every word, every touch. To them, it was just another part of the job.

But to you? To you, it was a reckoning.

You rubbed your temples, trying to shake the thought away, but it clung to you stubbornly. You were here to work, to act, to tell a story. You had gotten through every other scene with Toji, no matter how tense or emotionally taxing it had been. You could get through this one too.

Couldn’t you?

Your internal spiral was interrupted when Fushiguro Toji walked onto the set, his usual calm demeanor in place. He spotted you almost immediately and gave a slight nod in greeting, but his expression shifted when he noticed the look on your face.

“Something wrong?” he asked as he approached, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You hesitated, holding up the script instead of answering. “Have you read today’s scenes?”

He frowned slightly, taking the script from your hand and flipping through it. You watched his blue–green eyes scan the page one after another, his expression shifting from neutral to surprised and then to something you couldn’t quite place.

“Oh.” he said simply, his voice unreadable.

“Yeah.” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest. “Oh.”

Toji closed the script, handing it back to you. “Well….” he began, his tone measured. “It’s part of the job, right?”

His casual response made your irritation flare. “Don’t act like this is nothing.” you shot back, keeping your voice low but firm. “You know it’s not. Not with us.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not saying it’s nothing. I’m saying we’ve done this before. We’re professionals for a reason. We’ll handle it.”

The word professionals felt like a jab, as if he was reminding you that whatever was between you didn’t matter anymore. You opened your mouth to argue but stopped yourself, biting back the words. Instead, you took a step back, putting more space between you.

“I just... wasn’t expecting it.” you admitted, your voice softer now. “I guess I should do more reading on the script before I say yes. But then again, we were together before this. I would have thought differently if we were….”

You stopped yourself from saying anything. You sighed as you took the script back from him, not looking at him. You fumble through the script once again, stopping at where you were reading earlier. For a moment, Toji didn’t respond. He simply watched you, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded.

“Neither was I. But maybe it’s a good thing.”

You frowned. “How could this possibly be a good thing?”

“Because….” he said, his voice quiet but steady. “If we can get through this, we can get through anything else this job throws at us.”

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond to him whatsoever. There was a sincerity in his tone that caught you off guard, a reminder of the man you used to know, a man you once loved—the one who could somehow say the exact thing you needed to hear, even when you didn’t want to hear it.

“Let’s just get it over with.” you muttered finally, turning away to avoid meeting his gaze. You hoped the words would end the conversation, but Toji, ever persistent, wasn’t ready to let it drop. “As soon as possible.”

“Are we going to rehearse—”

“We are not going to rehearse kissing.” you interrupted sharply, spinning back toward him with a pointed glare before he could finish the thought.

He blinked, momentarily startled by your tone, then raised his hands in a mock gesture of surrender. “Okay, okay. No rehearsing. he said, his voice calm but edged with a hint of amusement. “I wasn’t going to push it.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, still skeptical. “I mean it. We know how to kiss for work. It’s technical, not personal. We’ll hit our marks, make it look convincing, and that’s it.”

“Got it.” he replied, his tone unreadable. But the faint twitch of a smirk at the corner of his mouth betrayed him, and it made your chest tighten with a mix of irritation and something far more complicated.

“I’m serious, Toji.” you added, folding your arms across your chest. “This doesn’t have to be a thing. Let’s just focus on the scene and move on.”

He tilted his head, his gaze softening just slightly. “I know. I’m not trying to make it a thing, I promise.” he said quietly. “But it’s not like we can pretend it doesn’t feel... different.”

You froze, his words hitting you harder than you expected. Different. Of course, it felt different. How could it not? You had kissed him before, really kissed him. Many countless times in another life, when things had been simpler, when you weren’t standing on opposite sides of an invisible wall you’d both helped build.

But you couldn’t let yourself dwell on that now. Shaking your head, you turned back toward the set. “It doesn’t matter.” you said, more to yourself than to him. “It’s just a scene, Toji. That’s all it is.”

You didn’t wait for his response as you walked away, but you felt the weight of his gaze on your back, heavy and lingering. And as much as you tried to push it down, you couldn’t shake the sense that, for Toji, it might not be just a scene after all. You looked for your manager.

You needed to get that coffee from her as soon as possible.

And perhaps, a donut. You need enough sugar to get through the day.

And so you let hours pass by, trying to get the idea of the kiss off your mind. You were not going to think about it until you had to. That’s what you tell yourself. But you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

How will it happen? How will you end up lasting with how he would touch you? How could you keep this professional? You shook your head. You hated how much you were getting too into this.

When you finally make it off to set once again, you find yourself overwhelmed already. After going through the worst of thoughts while on the makeup chair, you couldn’t help but feel even worse here.

The set was quiet as the crew adjusted the lights and cameras for the upcoming scene. You stood off to the side, arms crossed, your script clutched tightly in one hand. The weight of what was about to happen pressed on you like a physical force, making it hard to breathe.

Toji was across the room, leaning casually against a prop table as the makeup artist gave him a last touch-up. He looked calm. Too calm, like this was just another day, another scene. Like there was nothing to freak out about. It irritated you. How could he be so composed when every nerve in your body felt like it was on edge?

Soon enough, the director called for everyone to take their places. You moved to your mark, heart pounding. Fushiguro Toji approached, his steps measured, his expression unreadable. The tension between you thickened as the cameras rolled into position, and the director gave the signal to begin.

The scene started smoothly enough. The dialogue flowed naturally, your voices blending together in a rhythm you had mastered over weeks of working together. But as the emotional intensity of the scene built, you felt the lines between acting and reality begin to blur.

“That’s all you ever do, isn’t it?” you said, your voice trembling with both your character’s anger and something far more personal. “You push people away the second they get too close. You think it’s easier to walk away than to face what you’ve done.”

Toji stepped closer, his character’s frustration mirroring something unspoken in his own eyes. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” he shot back, his voice low, dangerous. “You don’t know what it’s like to carry this kind of weight.”

“I don’t know?” you snapped, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “Don’t you dare tell me I don’t know, because I was there. I was always there.”

The director hadn’t called the cut, so you kept going, even though your hands were trembling and your breath was coming faster than it should have been. Toji’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, you thought he might break character. But then he stepped even closer, closing the gap between you.

And then it happened as naturally as breathing —the kiss.

It started the way it was supposed to, his hands lightly brushing against your arms as he leaned in, his lips meeting yours with the perfect mix of tension and tenderness. But as the seconds ticked by, something shifted. The scene was supposed to end with a brief, restrained kiss. I twas just enough to convey the characters’ unresolved feelings. But Toji didn’t pull back, and neither did you.

Instead, the kiss deepened even more, the intensity between you igniting like a spark meeting gasoline. Fire blossoming in the spark of that gasoline, over and over as you both push and pull.

His hand moved to cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing your cheek in a way that felt far too familiar, far too real. Your hands, which were meant to stay at your sides, found their way to his chest, clutching the fabric of his shirt as if you were anchoring yourself to him.

The room around you faded from your reality. The set, the cameras, the crew—it all disappeared as the kiss pulled you under, dredging up emotions you thought you’d buried. Pain, longing, regret. All of it crashed over you in an overwhelming wave, pushing and pulling you towards him.

“Cut!” the director finally called, his voice sharp enough to break through the haze.

You and Toji finally let loose and separated abruptly, both of you breathing hard. The room was silent except for the faint hum of the equipment and the muffled sounds of crew members shuffling around. No one said anything, but the charged atmosphere was impossible to ignore.

The director, who had been watching the monitors intently, clapped his hands together. “That was… intense.” he said, nodding approvingly. “Let’s reset and do one more take.”

You couldn’t meet anyone’s gaze, least of all Toji’s, as you stepped back to your mark. Your lips still tingled, and your heart felt like it was trying to beat its way out of your chest. As the crew moved around you, resetting for the next take,

Toji leaned in close, his voice low so only you could hear. “You okay?”

You nodded stiffly, refusing to look at him. “I’m fine.”

But you weren’t. And as you prepared to shoot the scene again, you couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever had just happened wasn’t just acting—it was something far more dangerous. Many things were pushing through your mind over and over again. Things you shouldn’t think about. People you shouldn’t think about.

You touch your lips, before stopping and closing your eyes to take a breath. Toji was still looking at you, as though trying to make sure you were alright. But you couldn’t be coherent, you couldn’t think straight. Not when his lips tasted like forbidden fruit, from paradise, from heaven.

The moment the director called for another take, you felt your chest constrict. You couldn’t do it again—not right away, not with how raw everything felt. Your hands were trembling, your head spinning, and your heart still hadn’t slowed from the intensity of the scene—or the kiss.

“I need a break, director.” you muttered, barely audible, before turning and walking off set without waiting for a response. “Please….I…”

You started to move before you could register it. You ignored the crew members and assistants milling about, their curious glances following you as you navigated through the maze of equipment and props.

You didn’t stop until you found a quiet corner near the back of the lot, where the noise of the set faded into a distant hum. Leaning against a wall, you exhaled shakily, pressing your hands against your temples as you tried to steady yourself.

You didn’t hear him approach, but you felt his presence before he spoke.

“Hey.” Toji’s voice was soft but steady, cutting through the silence.

You stiffened, not turning around. “I just need a minute.”

“I know that.” he replied, his tone careful, as though he were trying not to spook you. “I just… wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

You scoffed, your laugh bitter and hollow. “Why do you care if I’m okay?”

His footsteps grew closer until he was standing just a few feet away. “Because I do.” he said simply. “I always have. You know that.”

You spun around to face him, your frustration bubbling over. “You don’t get to do that, Toji. You don’t get to pretend like everything’s fine, like you care, after everything—”

“I’m not pretending!” he interrupted, his voice rising just enough to cut you off. His jaw was tight, his expression pained. “You think this is easy for me? You think I wanted any of this to happen?”

“You walked away, Toji.” you shot back, your voice shaking. “You made your choice. And now you’re acting like—like—”

“Like what?” he challenged, stepping closer. “Like I regret it? Because I do. I regret everything, alright? But I can’t change the past. I can’t undo what I did. All I can do is try to…” He trailed off, his fists clenching at his sides.

“Try to do what?” you demanded, your own anger simmering beneath the surface. “Make yourself feel better? Redeem yourself? Because that’s not how it works, Toji. You don’t just get to show up and act like we can fix this with one stupid kiss!”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do.” he said, his voice softening, though the intensity in his eyes didn’t waver. “I just… I miss you.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. You wanted to look away from him, but you can’t. How could you, when he was looking at you like that? Like he still sees you to be the only one for him. Like he still loves you most in this world.

“Toji…” you started, but your voice cracked, and you couldn’t finish the sentence.

His gaze flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes, his expression torn. “Tell me to stop.” he murmured, taking another step forward. “If you don’t want this, just say the word, and I’ll walk away.”

You wanted to say it. No, you wanted to scream at him. You wanted to push him away and shove him and be angry with him, to tell him that you were done, that the past was the past and there was no going back. That you do not love him anymore. But the words wouldn’t come.

Instead, when he closed the distance between you, cupping your face with his hands, you didn’t pull away. His lips found yours, and the kiss was nothing like the one on set. It was desperate and unguarded, filled with all the things neither of you had been able to say.

Your hands clung to the fabric of his shirt, almost as if you needed the physical contact to ground yourself. The kiss deepened as your body pressed against his, the tension between you both crackling in the space that had once been filled with affection and now was choked with pain and unresolved emotion. His lips were insistent, hungry in a way that told you just how long he had been holding this back. The rawness of it, the desperation, sent a shiver down your spine.

His hands moved to the back of your neck, his fingers curling into your hair as if he were afraid you’d slip away again. When you finally broke apart, gasping for air, both of you stood there, forehead to forehead, your breaths heavy and unsteady. The world around you was a distant blur, and all that mattered was the way his chest rose and fell against yours.

The silence was suffocating, yet neither of you moved to speak. You couldn’t find the words, couldn’t find the strength to pull away from him again. He, too, seemed frozen in the moment, as if this brief touch of something real had left him equally shaken. But then, before you could fully collect yourself, he pulled you even closer. His body heat, his scent, enveloping you in the tight space between you.

Your eyes met once more. This time, there was no confusion, no uncertainty. The vulnerability in his gaze mirrored your own, and for just a heartbeat, you both let the walls crumble just enough to see each other for what you were—people who had been broken, but still searching for something to hold on to.

And then, his lips were on yours again, more forceful this time, as though he couldn’t hold back any longer, as though the weight of everything between you was too much to bear in silence. You didn’t pull away. You couldn’t.

The emotions inside you were tangled, each one vying for dominance. Hurt, longing, anger, and something deeper. A desperate need to feel something other than the emptiness that had been haunting you both for months.

His hands slid lower, tracing the line of your back, and you gasped against his mouth as your body pressed into his more firmly. It felt dangerous, reckless, but in that moment, you didn’t care. There was something that felt like freedom in this chaotic, emotional storm that you both had been trying so hard to avoid.

But it wasn’t just about the kiss. It was about everything that led to this point. The unfinished conversations, the words you both kept swallowing, the feelings you couldn’t express. His lips softened against yours for just a moment before he pulled back slightly, his face inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“I don’t know how to fix this.” he murmured, his voice rough, laden with frustration. "But I need you to know... I never stopped caring."

Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat ringing in your ears. You swallowed hard, blinking away the tears threatening to fall. "Then why did you leave?" you whispered, barely able to keep your voice steady.

His eyes darkened, his face tightening with regret. “Because I was scared,” he said, the words slow, deliberate. “I thought I could push it all down, but it just… it just made everything worse.”

You could feel his hands trembling against your back, his words raw with honesty. And for a moment, you let the weight of that honesty sink in.

“I don’t know what this is,” you whispered, your voice breaking as you fought the lump in your throat. “But I can’t pretend it doesn’t hurt.”

Toji’s thumb brushed over your cheek, and you could feel the conflict in him—he wanted to comfort you, to make things right, but you both knew there were no easy fixes, no simple words that could undo the damage done.

“I know,” he said softly, his voice full of sorrow. “I know, but I’ll be here. I’ll be here until you decide if you want to give me a chance to make it right.”

Your eyes fluttered closed as you rested your forehead against his, the exhaustion of the emotional rollercoaster threatening to overtake you. You weren’t sure what this meant, what the future held, but in that moment, you allowed yourself to feel it.

The rawness, the tension, the connection. The kiss wasn’t just a kiss—it was a fragile promise, a silent acknowledgment that, despite everything, there was still something worth fighting for between you.

But you both knew that this wasn’t the end. It was only the beginning of something uncertain, something that would require more than a kiss to fix. But for now, you didn’t need answers. You just needed this. This seesaw game.

The more you were on this seesaw, the more you got to him. The more he’s here with you, locked in this cage of your own toxic desires. His touch, his presence, and the understanding that, for the first time in a long while, maybe you weren’t as alone as you thought.

“This doesn’t change anything.” you whispered, though your voice lacked conviction.

“I know.” he said softly. “But it doesn’t mean I’ll stop trying.”

You closed your eyes, trying to block out the rush of emotions flooding through you, but it was no use. Whatever had just happened, whatever this was. It wasn’t over. And you weren’t sure if that terrified you or gave you hope. Because it means you were no better. Your resolve crumbled so easily. How could you, when it was him?

“We have to go back to the set.” You whispered to him.

“Let them wait.” He whispers back to you, his breath hot against you.

That’s how you ended up back in his trailer, under him just like you had been six months ago. You had all but abandoned everything outside the door. From your mic packs left on that corner wall a few meters away, to the costume clothes left on the fridges of the trailer door.

Your lips echoed loud moaning ripples that could embarrass you had you cared enough for it at that moment. But you didn’t. All you cared about was the pleasure of being underneath him, being choked by his figure pressed against you as you squirm over and over again with the breath you didn’t have against his firm grasp.

All you could do was wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to where the sweat and the drool mixed onto you over and over again. With every tug to pull him closer, you found yourself being pummeled with his member deeper over and over again — taking away the dry spell that had kept your resolve for the past six months.

You could feel him burn you inside, searing you whole with the sheer size of him, taking over every inch of your crevices as though it belonged there. As though all of you were made for all of him.

You couldn’t help but release another moan, feeling your insides close against him, as your inner thighs quivered against the side of his waist repeatedly. The force of his thrusts were so strong that you were sure the bed was going to break.

His fingerprints were being engraved against your thighs with the way he pushes against your flesh, keeping you intertwined in this vicious downfall with him. Toji couldn’t help but laugh as he pressed closer against your body, the build of his cock sliding through your tummy and he could feel it. He felt proud of it. No one knew how to make you feel this electrifying feeling of being alive the way he could. No one else. And you knew that too well.

Calluses started to form on your reddening skin, pelted with golden sweat as he pulled in and out of you with the speed of a thunderstrike. One moment he’s into the point you could feel him down your throat choking and the next, it felt like you were freed from the vestiges of being full of everything heavy, only to feel so empty that you long for him to choke you whole with his cock.

And he does. Repeatedly. Over and over again, until you are on the verge of tears you know you shed because of the pleasure you succumb to, to your shame. To your love, to your desires. To him. No, for him.

Because you knew, no one else can love you like this. No one else can make a mess of you like this. No one else can make you feel so whole and broken all at once that it breaks you into many pieces.

You found yourself clawing at his back, successive moans with your breaking tone sounding like music to his ears. He hums in acceptance of the pain, trying to keep his composure as your nails bring blood streaming down his back. You move slowly to bite his shoulder, deep and whole and raw. You find him grunting slowly at the pain of it. You dug so deep that you knew you also drew blood there too.

You find him accepting it knowing that this is your love. This is the love that you have for him. And it will never change anymore. You wanted to love him and love him to the point he hurts. You want him to hurt. You want him to cry. You want him to bleed. Because how dare he make love to you, knowing you didn’t want to be hurt by loving him?

“I hate you.” You cry to him, his blood metallic in your tongue. You cry again, in between your incoherent moans. “I hate you more than anything in the world.”

“I love you.” He whispers to you over and over again, digging deeper into you that he has carved a home in you. “I love you. More than anything. More than life itself.”

You cry at his words. Because you knew they were true. You knew that he does love you. And yet you don’t want to be with him. You don’t want to let him back in. But he is here, with you. He is you, in you. He was everything that encompasses you. He was your first love. He was your first everything. And you can’t take it back. You can’t unlove him, even for your own good. Not even if the heavens wanted you to.

Toji couldn’t help but snarl as he pushes deeper and deeper, his sound animalistic and raw. He was close. You know this too well, once he stops talking. He devotes himself to the task. He pushes through over and over, the beckoning of his thrusts growing more erratic as he nears his peak.

But you knew him too well. He never comes inside of you without making sure you get your fill first. His long fingers reach down to where you're joined, finding your clit and rubbing in tight circles that send jolts of electricity shooting up your spine.

“T–toji!” You cry out loud, arching deeper into his touch as the pleasure coiling on your belly echoing over and over. You could feel his fingers work you perfectly, expertly as he pushes through over and over as he pushes his masterful fingers and his thrusting hips. “I….I’m….I’m close!”

"That's it, baby. Come for me too." he coaxes, his voice a low rasp in your ear. "Let me feel this pretty pussy squeeze the cum out of me."

He only gets this way when he finds himself close, his words disappearing into the reality of pleasure with you. You push against him, throwing your head back against the pillows. You shatter with a keening moan, your walls clamping down around Toji’s shaft as ecstasy crashes over you in waves.

He follows moments later with a guttural groan, pumping you full of his hot seed. You were shaking as you cling to him tightly, mewling softly against his shoulder blades. You could feel his body heavier against you as you both rode out the aftershocks, still gasping and twitching with the intensity of your shared climax.

As the fog of passion clears, you slowly come back to yourself, awareness returning in increments. You purse your lips as he presses kisses against your neck and then your jaw and then your cheeks. The warmth of his seed seeping off you as your hands loosen their hold on his body.

“We can’t do this again.” You whisper to him exhaustedly.

“I know.” He whispers back to you, his eyes shot with the look of love. Or was it lust? You could not tell. “I know.”

But you knew you were both lying to yourselves.

He was going to come back again and again.

And you would let him in, just as you had now.

══════════════════

YOU HAD SAID YOU DIDN’T WANT TO PARTICIPATE IN ANY PRESS TOURS. It had taken a while before you had even budged to the demands of the director. But you knew that you couldn’t admit that to be a resolve without the act. All Toji had to do was ask you, in his own way and you knew you would say yes. And you hated that it was the case.

As the lights of the red carpet flickered around you, you smiled, the cameras flashing as you and Fushiguro Toji posed side by side. His presence, tall and imposing, was the perfect foil to your poised elegance, but inside, you felt something altogether different. It was truly a quiet storm of conflicting emotions that you could barely contain.

The interviewer, enthusiastic and bright-eyed, approached you both with a microphone. “You two are the talk of the town! After months of speculation, you’ve finally confirmed your relationship with that press announcement. How does it feel to have it all out in the open?”

You met the interviewer’s gaze, your smile steady, though you could feel the weight of the question pressing against your chest. You exchanged a brief glance with Toji, his expression unreadable. He gave a small nod, as if reassuring you to continue, but you knew the truth—there was nothing to reassure, nothing to calm.

“We’re happy to finally share our truth, really.” you said, your voice smooth, practiced, like you were reading from a script. "It's been an incredible journey, and we're excited for what's next, both in our professional and personal lives."

The interviewer’s smile widened, practically giddy with excitement. “It’s clear that you two are truly in love! Your chemistry on and off-screen is undeniable. Toji, how does it feel to have such an amazing partner by your side?”

Toji’s lips quivered into a half-smile, a hint of something unreadable in his eyes. “It feels like a new chapter, honestly. I’ve always admired her strength, her talent. She’s someone who challenges me, changes me, in ways I didn’t expect. I think that’s what makes it work.”

The words were kind, but you heard the undertone. You knew what it was. It was the unspoken acknowledgment of the past. The past you’d both tried to bury under layers of public appearances, press releases, and carefully crafted smiles. The past you had come to hate with all your hatred.

What had started as something deeply painful had morphed into something else entirely, something you didn’t quite understand but couldn’t escape. This was a gilded cage that you had allowed him to trap you in.

One that you couldn’t escape. That’s why you were here, standing next to him, because you couldn’t tear yourself away. You couldn’t fly away. Even when you hated him. Even when you knew better.

You felt the interviewer’s eyes shift back to you, awaiting a response, her curiosity piqued. "And for you, how does it feel to have him by your side now, after everything you've been through?"

Your chest tightened. The words to explain your truth were there, just beneath the surface, but they never quite made it to your lips. You gave another practiced smile, masking the turmoil that churned inside you.

"It’s complicated, yeah." you said carefully, choosing your words with precision. "We’ve both had our struggles, but that’s part of growth. That’s a lot of work, to make it all go smoothly. We’ve learned a lot from each other. And we’re both better for it."

The words hung in the air, a soft veil of politeness that couldn’t hide the undercurrent of something darker. The toxic bond, the cycle of love and hate, of pain and yearning. You hated that you were still here. You hated that you could never quite leave him, no matter how much you should. And yet, there was no escaping the pull. Not now. Not after everything.

The interviewer beamed, satisfied with your answer, but all you could do was nod politely, your gaze flickering to Toji again. The smile he gave you was the same one you had seen countless times before, the one that made your heart ache, the one that made you question everything about who you were, about who you were becoming.

You knew you should’ve been stronger. You knew you should’ve walked away a long time ago. But here you were, caught in the web you had spun and truly hated it. You hated him, but you still stayed. You knew, deep down, that this was your reality now.

Your love for him would never be pure. It would never be something that anyone deserves to have. It was not worth living a life of destitution and desperation. And yet, it was what you had. It would never be easy, it would never be anything other than toxic.. It would always be tangled up in mistakes, in forgiveness, in betrayal, in passion.

And so you stayed.

Because even if he would hurt you, even if you would hurt him, this was the life you had chosen. You had crossed that line long ago, and now, there was no going back. There was no way to escape the chaotic love you shared. It would make you happy. It would make you miserable. It would always be the same, because it had always been this way, and maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

For better or for worse.

For the horrid to the frigid.

You both were toxic till the end.

The moment you stepped inside the theater, the noise of the red carpet event faded into a dull hum, replaced by the quiet buzz of the room. The lights overhead gleamed off the polished surfaces, casting long shadows over the seats where the audience had yet to arrive.

Fushiguro Toji walked beside you, his presence commanding and strong, but the usual ease between you felt heavier now, charged with a tension neither of you had addressed since the interview. Since you were now a couple in the public hemisphere. And he was too aware of it all.

As you made your way toward the dressing room, you felt the weight of his blue–green gaze on you, sharp and searching, as if he was trying to decipher something in your posture, in the way you carried yourself. You ignored it, pretending to focus on the steps ahead, the noise of your heels clicking against the floor, the rhythm of your breath.

When you reached the door, you paused for a moment, the cold handle beneath your fingers reminding you of the distance that had always existed between you and Toji, even when you were close, even when you thought you understood each other. Even when you were now stuck in this disturbed romance.

The room was empty except for the faint scent of makeup and old costumes, a reminder of the countless times you’d shared similar spaces before everything had unraveled. Toji followed you inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click. His footsteps were quieter now, the usual swagger in his walk subdued, but his presence still loomed larger than life.

You didn’t turn to face him immediately, choosing instead to adjust your dress in front of the mirror. The reflection staring back at you seemed almost foreign—perfectly poised, with a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. Not fully. And you didn’t know when that would ever happen again.

“You okay?” Toji’s voice was low, cautious, as though he wasn’t sure whether to press you or give you space.

You met his gaze in the mirror, seeing the uncertainty there. It made something inside you tighten, but you refused to show it. “I’m fine, don’t worry.” you said, though the words felt empty as they left your mouth. “It’s just... another night, another show.”

Toji stepped closer, his reflection merging with yours in the glass. “You don’t have to pretend, you know.” he said softly, his tone edging with a familiar vulnerability that made your chest tighten. “You don’t have to say everything’s fine when it’s not, babe.”

For a moment, you thought you might turn to him, reach out for him, let the rawness of it all spill over. But then you remembered the cameras, the words you’d both spoken on the carpet. The image you were meant to present. The lies you’d wrapped yourselves in, hoping no one would see the truth beneath.

“I’m not pretending.” you replied, a little too quickly. You broke your gaze with the mirror and turned to face him now, your eyes narrowing as if daring him to say something more. “What’s the point? Everyone’s watching, Toji. Everyone’s waiting to see if we’re going to fall apart, if we’re going to crack under the weight of it all. So why give them the satisfaction?”

Toji didn’t flinch at your sharp words. Instead, he took a step closer, his eyes softening, his voice quieter. “Maybe I’m tired of pretending too. Maybe I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

You shook your head, stepping back from him, though your heart thundered in your chest. “It’s too late for that. It’s too late for us, for anything real. We’ve already made our choices, Toji. This….whatever this is—this is just for show. This is what we have now. This is what we’re stuck with. And you know what the root cause was.”

For a brief moment, silence hung in the air, thick and oppressive, before Toji took a step forward, his hand reaching out to gently grasp your wrist, stopping you from retreating further. His touch was steady, but there was a deep sadness in his eyes, something that you could feel without needing to see it.

“I don’t want to lose you.” he said, his voice tight with emotion. “I never wanted to hurt you. I know I did, but I swear, I’m trying to fix it. I’m trying to fix us.”

You looked at his hand on your wrist, the heat of it seeping into your skin, and for a moment, you wondered if you could believe him. But then reality crashed back in, the weight of everything you’d been through. His betrayal, your own resentment, the lies you told yourselves about what you were.

“I don’t know if I can trust you again, Toji.” you whispered, your voice shaky, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t allowed yourself to be before. “I don’t know if I can forgive you.”

He watches as you halted, taking a moment to gather yourself. Before you looked at him again. “But god, we are just miserable with and without each other. Nothing changes. And yet here we are.”

His grip tightened ever so slightly, as if pleading for you to see something, anything, in him that might make a difference. “I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that I can earn that trust back. If you’ll let me.”

The words hung in the air, suspended between you, as the unspoken tension between you both remained unresolved. There was a part of you that wanted to believe him, that wanted to give in, to fall into the comfort of what you once had. But there was another part of you, the part that had learned from the mistakes, the hurt, that knew better.

“I don’t know.” you said quietly, pulling your wrist free from his grasp. “But I’m not the person I was before, and neither are you. So maybe we just need to accept that.”

Toji’s eyes dropped for a moment, the weight of your words clearly sinking in. He didn’t argue. He didn’t try to change your mind. Instead, he nodded, as if acknowledging the truth you both shared, no matter how painful it was.

“I don’t want to lose you.” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

But this time, there was no more fight left in you to give.

The words hung between you both, unresolved.

And for the first time, you wondered if you ever could let him go.

You wondered if you both would ever be free from each other.

Yet you knew that was wishful thinking, you knew that was a dream.

“You don’t have to worry.” You whispered back to him. “I’m not going anywhere….But you already knew that. Didn’t you?”

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