#The beginnings of what could have been angst | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

esotericbluntbaby · 2 days ago

Note

HIIIII i love your writing style so bad, i came on here to request something and then i see you doubt your own writing which is crazy cuz they're all good!!! can i request hamzah and reader in something worse than a situationship so she brings out like someone attractive along at a party or something (it could literally be a gay man that offered to help her idk) to see if it'd make him jealous and it actually does. IM SORRY if you get too mant jealous hamzah requests but i just yearn for him, PLS have angst in the beginning 😭😭🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼.

worsened aches

hamzahthefantastic x reader

description: though toxic and envious, you realize that your situationship had to have gone through the worst in order to better itself for the sake of you and hamzah.

mentions: angst (expect it at this point), yearning, posessiveness, toxicity in a situationship out of confusion, she/her pronouns, both hamzah and reader are equally mean to each other so hopefully it cancels out, a guy making you uncomfortable and grabbing your hand, a fight scene, happy ending, sfw for the most part

listen to partynextdoor while you're reading lol. specifically make it to the morning or resentment but honestly any will do <3

"you're literally fucking crazy- what are you talking about?"

you and hamzah were currently going at it like two players on rival teams. though your relationship, or lack there of, was toxic and overly complicated, you both stayed in the same rooms you fought in because of the loneliness that consumed the both of you. obviously, arguing wasn't fun, nor was it ethical for the sake of your mental health, yet, bickering with someone else was somehow better than spending your nights alone and depressed.

you met hamzah because of how loud he was. you were, and still are, his neighbor who moved in a couple months ago. getting annoyed of the lack of sleep, you decided to march over to his apartment in the same manner that the guardsmen stomp in front of the royal palace; they had the queen to defend, while you had your sanity to fight for. over time, the friendship and simultaneous rivalry stemmed from that night and bloomed into the situationship you have right now.

you and hamzah technically aren't anything; technically, you and hamzah are nothing more than just friends who occasionally act coupley to fill the voids that call you to jump out of windows and balconies. you both were lonely, creating a seemingly win-win situation. he comes over whenever he needs someone to cuddle at night, or more than cuddle, and vice versa. it's been a system that's worked out for about eight-ish months now.

as all situationships do, it was bound to crash and tumble like hurricanes over the ocean. over time, the lack of a label caused more problems than einstein could sold. neither of you had a complete understanding of the boundaries you each wanted, nor did either of you want to risk creating a more serious problem than what it seemed to be by talking about it. so, over time, resentment built itself up within the foundations of the connection between the both of you as communication began to settle in the roots of the ground it was built on.

the night started alright; it was simple making out, occasional pecks on the cheeks and forehead, and constant physical touch. he even bought you food and fed it to you while you two sat on the couch and watched comfort movies. your presence was enjoyed as much as his was. it was normal that whenever hamzah was over, you'd completely lose sight of the bad parts of the connection you have after any part of him would touch you. however, the mood quickly changed when hamzah answered the call of another girl while on your couch. watching his smile expand at her words as you were cuddled up right beside him caused a pit to grow within your chest. it felt wrong. technically, given that you two were friends, it wasn't; however, the fact that he was all over you two seconds before you both heard the ringtone was, in fact, wrong. you moved away, distancing mountains and seas between you two on his couch, as eventually the call became silent and he hung up. you wouldn't speak to him. growing annoyed, he forced you to speak, to which you called him an asshole for "damn near flirting with a girl in front of you." thus, his gaslighting begun.

"hamzah, what do you mean, 'what's wrong with me?' what's wrong with you?"

he scoffed, "fucking nothing. nothing even happened- i have no clue what you're talking about. why are you making something out of nothing?"

"that's so fucking mature. you told me to talk, didn't you? or did i just make something out of nothing again?"

"oh my god, that's not what i meant- dude, why are you even mad? it's not like i did anything."

you raised your eyebrows, "my head was literally on your lap while you were flirting with her."

he slowly emphasized his words, "i wasn't even flirting with her."

"you made your voice deep like you were fuckin' neil degrasse tyson, are you joking? and what the hell was she saying that was making you laugh that hard?"

he put his hands up in defense, "it's not a big deal. so what if jess called me and i laughed when she told me a fuckin joke? it's not that deep."

your body felt like it was rising in temperature, "you're actually such a liar- we both know that it was that deep, bro. that's literally how you laugh with me."

"why does it matter if that's how i laugh with you?" he made a noise between a laugh and scoff and looked back at the television, "it's not like we're dating."

he was right. you weren't dating, so you can't be upset. you knew you mostly wanted that reassurance that he wouldn't find someone else while messing with you on the side, though you assumed that hamzah wasn't like that. you've had the run down of a bad dating history and horrible ex's and, yeah, hamzah was kind of bad. however, hamzah was bad in a way where at least it was to your face, unlike the infidelity and lies in your past relationships. unlike them, the worst that hamzah would do was get defensive over an argument or say something that was a little too mean on accident because he was genuinely just speaking his mind. honestly, the touch and treatment he gave you during the times you weren't bitchy towards each other evened out the slight toxicity; actually, even surpassing it. however, this was too far. this was a lie and you knew it. it was a lie that he specifically told to hurt you on purpose.

sure, maybe you could've gone a different direction with confronting him and maybe you were too aggressive with your accusations; but at the same time, you were also hurt that he would do that in front of you, as your head rested a couple of inches away from his heartbeat. the intimacy of the setting the both of you were in was overtaken by a green bogeyman; envy in its personified form.

the room fell silent as he kept on watching the movie. he only looked at you when you sniffled from tearing up so much. you guys have argued in the past, but never have you cried in front of him; this was vulnerability that you allowed to seep through you like sunlight seeps through the roots of a plant.

his attention was now fully on you, "are you crying?"

"hamzah, i want you to get out of my place."

"wait-"

you stood up and began to walk through the door, "let yourself out the door and don't come back. i'm done."

three weeks without him had passed and you were an emotional wreck; a wreck that was so bad that other cars on the road had to stop to see it for themselves. throughout the stages of grief, you were currently on the acceptance stage. you hadn't left you apartment ever since that night out of fear that he'd be leaving his, next door. a couple of times, you heard the knock that you two made for each other to signify that it was the other person at the door. with each knuckle to the wood, a pang in your heart thumped harder and with more rigor. luckily, it only lasted a total of a week before he stopped coming over.

since any romantic encounter or even simple things around your house reminded you of the man next door, you were going to continue to rot in bed whilst watching horror movies. however, the plan was quickly changed when rey, the gay man you met at a club a couple of months ago, decided to text you.

rey :p

5:42 pm | hey boo

5:42 pm | i haven't talked to you in forever

5:42 pm | how r u?

you

5:43 pm | im horrible

5:43 pm | u rmbr the guy i used to talk to u about

rey :p

5:44 pm | the one that was ur bf but also not ur bf?

5:44 pm | like the one that u showed me a pic of and i said he had the same eyes as central cee

you

5:44 pm | yeah

rey :p

5:44 pm | what'd the bitch do

you

5:45 pm | he was genuinely being an asshole

5:45 pm | he literally picked up the phone right

rey :p

5:45 pm | mhmmm

you

5:46 pm | it was a girl

5:46 pm | i was laying my head down on his lap

5:46 pm | and i guess she was the funniest person in the world or smth bc he was laughing his ass off like a fucking idiot

rey :p

5:46 pm | bro hell no

5:46 pm | r u serious

5:47 pm | r u okay

you

5:47 pm | bedrotting lowk lol

5:47 pm | haven't gotten out of my bed in like a full three days

5:48 pm | idk i guess i js miss him

rey :p

5:48 pm | it's reasonable

5:48 pm | im going to a party tn

5:48 pm | come with meeeeee

5:48 pm | maybe u just need a distraction

you

5:49 pm | idk rey

rey :p

5:50 pm | go get dressed and pls shower dont be stinky

5:50 pm | ill pick u up at like uhhhh 8ish

you

5:50 pm | fine

you were two drinks down when rey was only tipsy from one drink. being the designated driver, he didn't want to overdo it; yet, he reassured you that he'd take care of you throughout the night. you were simply enjoying his presence; however, given that it was his friends' party that he was going to, occasionally you were left by yourself leaning on walls or sitting on couches and getting up when a couple started to make out on the leather right next to you. after a while, you began to regret going; the more you were alone, the more you thought about how hamzah would be towering over you like some sort of bodyguard in order to make sure that nobody spiked your drink.

as you were zoned out and thinking about him once again, you suddenly came into focus when rey went up to you and gave you a side hug. confused, your eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at him.

"are you thinking about him again?" rey asked, taking another sip of his seltzer.

you sighed, "is it that obvious?"

"if you wanna go home, i can take you. i'm sorry if i pushed you too hard to go out- i just didn't want you to stay home crying over some boy."

"no, yea, i get it. thank you, really, maybe i just needed to go outside. are you ready to go home?"

"i was just gonna drop you off and come back."

you didn't want to seem like a burden; rey was only trying to help you with coping. to have to drive a whole thirty minutes just to drop you off and come back seemed like too much to ask for; after everything that happened with hamzah when it came to begging for communication and reassurance, you hated seeming like you had too much to ask for. so, you took a deep breath and began to brave the waters even more; this was new territory for you that you were now forcing yourself to become familiar with for the rest of the night.

"no, it's okay. i'll stay- i kinda don't wanna be alone," you half-lied.

he put his hand on your shoulder reassuringly, "are you sure?"

"yeah," you sipped the vodka cranberry out of your red solo cup, "i'm sure.

"well," he began to give you a hug with his back facing the front entrance, "if you do wanna leave, tell me."

you hugged him back, "i will. thanks, rey."

unwrapping his arms from you, he walked in the direction of the party as you still stood near the entrance. however, you soon realized that his body was blocking the very sight you tried your best to avoid; hamzah was standing right in front of the doorway, dressed in one of the outfits that made you weak. standing with his friends, his hard expression fixated on you as he realized that some other guy was on you the way that he was. you locked eye contact, sensing the tense gaze he scorned towards you. you decided that it was time to go to the bathroom.

sitting on the cold tile for about twenty minutes helped ground you to the reality of your situation. you came to this party hoping to escape the emotions that he made you feel after basking and bathing in them for the past three weeks, however, the same guy appeared right in front of you at the worst time possible. you could go one of two ways: go bother rey and make him drive thirty minutes to and back from your house just to drop you off, or to stay in the bathroom.

considering that someone knocked on the bathroom door as you were pondering, you decided to choose neither of the options and chose a secret, third one: to stay so that rey can enjoy his night.

leaving the bathroom into a relatively empty hallway, you felt an odd stare as you walked past a tall man holding a beer in his hand. you heard and felt his heavy footsteps right behind you, trailing after you in the dark area. you started to walk quicker towards the end of the hallway, reaching the entrance to it that led to the living room where a couple of groups of people were.

"where are you going, pretty lady?" you heard from behind you.

you ignored him, finding his remarks uncomfortable and weird.

you felt his breath on your neck, "y'know, it's rude to ignore a man who's interested in you."

"leave me alone," you sternly demanded.

"what, are you a fucking prude or something?" he asked, grabbing your wrist.

"what the fuck? let go of me, now," you warned as his grip on you tightened, causing your heart to drop all the way to your bladder.

suddenly, he was being pulled off of you and pounded into by someone's fists so fast that it could possibly beat the speed of light; you could tell by the way that the figure punched that it was hamzah. you didn't even see him in the room before he was on the floor with the man from the hallway. you stood there, motionless with worry for hamzah's physical being, as people attempted to intervene and pull hamzah off of him. you watched as hamzah was pried off of him by martin, scolding him and asking him what he was doing. luckily, the man simply left the area and hamzah went into the bathroom, alone.

luckily, the room went back to the usual conversations relatively quick, since it lasted a couple of punches thrown in by hamzah; in addition, a couple of people were staring at you as you yelled at him to let go of your arm. you didn't know how to feel. what if he didn't get him off of you? would you have gotten assaulted? or even worse? however, those thoughts also simultaneously existed with thoughts of how hamzah got there so quick and why he just pummeled a guy into the floor, even after you two weren't on good terms. nevertheless, you went against your goal of avoiding anything hamzah-related and walked to the bathroom.

knocking on the door, he took a minute to turn the knob. he saw you in front of him and gazed at you with an expression that you haven't seen on him before; a mixture of everything felt tonight and, possibly, for the past three weeks. you got a good look at how his eyebags were more protruded as if the skin had a second layer. his eyebags mixed with the lilac and ruby shades mixed in led you to believe that he was struggling to sleep; it was as if you were looking at a mirror.

"can i come in?" you asked.

though you realize that this is stunting your ability to heal, his voice was comforting, "yeah, sure."

he sat down on the closed toilet, as you sat down on the rim of the bathtub besides it. he stared at his hand, bruises and redness already forming on his knuckles, as well as an open gash on his ring finger. you got up from the bathtub rim and crouched over to the cabinet below the sink, watching his eyes linger onto you as you searched for something to clean out his would and wrap it. taking out a roll of bandage and wound cleaner, you sat back down. you gently took his hand in yours and began to clean his wound.

"this might hurt," you mumbled.

you squeezed the wound cleaner as he winced, a sour expression with his eyebrows scrunched on his face apparent. you began to wrap his hand, trying your best to be as gentle as possible. you still felt his eyes on you, like you were a puppet performing in front of an audience.

you broke the silence, "are you drunk?"

"what?"

"y'know, have you drank anything since you got here."

"oh- no, no i haven't."

you ripped the end of the bandage off, attempting to tie it onto his hand, "so, you beat his ass completely sober?"

he chuckled, "yeah."

"it was stupid."

he gave you a look of disbelief, "what?"

"hamzah, you could've hurt yourself! what if he had a knife on him or a gun or just something-"

"you're telling me that i'm stupid for getting a guy, who was clearly making you uncomfortable, off of you?"

you sighed, "no, hamzah, you're not stupid. i'm saying that your actions were stupid because you could've gotten seriously hurt and i don't want to be the reason you're in the hospital. i don't want you to get hurt at all."

"well, would he have done it?"

puzzled, you tilted your head to the side, "who?"

"the- fuckin- the guy you were with- him- would he have done this for you?"

a chuckle of disbelief escaped from your throat, "why does that matter?"

"i saw him hugging you and shit, he should've done what i did- where was he when you needed him? why'd he let you go to the bathroom by yourself?"

"why does it matter if he was hugging me, hamzah? why does it matter if he left me alone?"

"because if you're gonna replace me with him, he has to be better than me!" his voice got slightly louder, causing you to jump, "fuck- if we're not together anymore, you have to find someone that could take care of you as well as i did or even better."

your eyes squinted with annoyance, "hamzah, you literally just said that we were just friends. what are you talking about 'we're not together anymore?' you were the one who said that we weren't ever together."

"i fucking lied, okay? i lied. i fucking lied to you because i can't handle the fact that you wanted more and i- i just- i can't be enough for you," he rushed as the information in his head that he wanted to let out was twice as fast as his words, "i wanted more too. fuck, i wanted more so fucking bad- you don't get it, but i'd be selfish if i just took you all for myself even if i couldn't give you everything that you deserve."

emotions began to implode within your chest, "are you serious? you could've fucking tried or, better yet, you could've just talked to me, hamzah! genuinely, what the hell are you even talking about with that 'i couldn't give you everything' shit. i don't want everything, i just wanted you."

your breathing became heavier as tears began to flow out of your eyes once more, mirroring the scene at your apartment that lead to this very encounter. though you laid in bed for three weeks, you didn't cry once, not ever since the time you last cried in front of him. every single fear was running rampant in your head from speaking to him with such vulnerability. yet, you soon realized that there was no point of holding back. he was already watching you intently and listening to every single word you were saying, gazing at you with longing eyes that yearned the longer you were sat in the bathroom. there was no turning back now, so you decided to tell him everything that you've been feeling and thinking in the past three weeks of agonizing heartbreak with one, singular sentence. with breaths heavy within your chest and tears now streaming down your face, you let go.

"hamzah, i just want you."

in that moment, hamzah saw the heartbreak in personified, human form. he watched you crumple apart in front of him like balls of paper about to be thrown into a trash can. hamzah went into the situationship with the thought that it would be the best possible outcome; the outcome where there's no mess to clean up, nor promises to keep, nor expectations to maintain. the situationship was, in his eyes, a way to keep you both from being hurt. knowing that his very intention was to not hurt you at all, as he watched you crying your eyes out in front of him, finally caused the the realization that he was supporting the very cause he was against.

hamzah didn't know what to do, yet, he knew he had to make this right for the sake of you, him, and the connection between you two.

hamzah lifted you up onto his lap, unsure and hesitant, watching your reaction to his actions. watching the tears on your face slowly stop sliding down and your breathing get slightly lighter, he believed it was okay. he wiped your face with his thumbs with such gentleness to it; in hamzah's mind, he has broken you down to the point where there's cracks in your skin, so he was trying his best not to shatter you completely. after gazing at your eyes with a sympathetic, longing, and apologetic stare, he gently brought your face closer towards his. he closed the gap between you guys' lips, a wave of nostalgia and comfort overtaking the vulnerability that was just in the room. over time, the kiss got more desperate and aching. your lips chased after each other as your tongues moves synchronously with the same feelings of past despair and hopelessness. your hands were roaming up and down each other's bodies as if it was meant to be explored by each other; as if you were both artifacts meant to be excavated. it lasted fifteen minutes; the passion radiated from you guys' bodies even after you stopped kissing to breathe. hamzah was the first to speak.

"i know you came here with a date, but i can't take it anymore. i need you in my life, baby, i need you back and i need you back now. the past couple weeks i haven't been sleeping or eating or doing anything besides just sitting there and realizing that i'm a fucking idiot. i never liked the girl that i was on the phone with and i blocked her right after i left your place, that night. i don't even know what i was doing and i shouldn't have even picked up in the first place- i should have never said we were just friends. i was lying. i was a fucking liar and you can do whatever you want to make me pay for that. you can slap me as hard as you can or burn my hoodies or anything, baby, just-please forgive me, i'm sorry. i'll do anything to have you back in my life-"

you cut him off with a slow, gentle, and lingering kiss, once again. pulling away, he admired you like he was in a trance that he wasn't willing to be broken out of.

"i'm not dating rey. he's here with another guy."

hamzah looked puzzled as he rubbed loving circles onto your thighs, "what?"

"he's gay."

"thank fucking god," he let out a sigh of relief, "i think i felt my heart genuinely shatter when i walked in on him hugging you."

you laughed, "you were that hurt over it?"

"of course i'd be. it's you."

"yeah, yeah, don't flatter me," you teased.

hamzah's expressione turned serious once again, "baby, please come back to me. i'll make it all up to you if you let me, i promise. i don't care how long it takes or what i'll have to do. let me prove to you that i can take care of you."

your expression also became serious, "it depends. are you taking care of me as my idiot neighbor who occasionally comes over to do things that friends don't do?"

you asked the question expecting him to answer that he'll do better than that, however, he surprised you once again.

he took your hand and kissed it, "no, i'll take care of you as your boyfriend, if you'll let me."

authors note!

hi guys this is so late i am going to bed goodnight!

#hamzah fic #hamzah imagines #hamzah x reader #hamzahthefantastic #slushy noobz #hamzah x y/n #hamzahthefanatasticxreader #hamzah fluff

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thisisntmyrightera · 2 days ago

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Together - CHO HYUN-JU x Fem Reader FINAL PART

Summary: Reader is scammed and abandoned by her boyfriend, leaving her alone in South Korea to her fate, so in desperate search of a solution to return to her home country she decides to join the squid games to get money, within the game she meets a couple of people who become her friends and could possibly be something more.

Warning: Violence, homophobia mention of attempted rape and sexist language

-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-°-

After being found by a guard and taken to a room where ''the boss'' waited, everything remained silent. I don't know how much time passed between shots in the distance that stopped and started again.,time was eternal.

We'll give you one more chance… a game to save your life, for that you must use this - a guard offered me a uniform like theirs to wear.

I don't want to… - I looked at them denying it.

It's not an option, put it on - he threw it at my feet while I felt the barrel of the gun press on my back.

It will be a special game, after you put it on, your opponent will enter to play.

The mask on my face was tighter than my head could bear, although the pain was nothing compared to the fear I felt every time a gun sounded in the distance, the murmurs surrounded me and I could understand many of them, they were in my language.

The room felt cold, I could feel it despite the suit they had forced me to wear that covered my entire body and despite the thick fabric I could feel the cold barrel of the gun pointed at my back.

Suddenly, I could hear the sound of what was a door and firm footsteps approaching while everything became silent and the room remained dark.

´´Player 120, congratulations you have been chosen to participate in a special game called MARCO POLO, in this game a guard will give you a gun with 4 bullets inside, your anonymous opponent and you will walk around the room and when I say STOP you must say MARCO, while your opponent will say POLO and you will guess from the sound where he has moved to shoot, if you kill him you will have won this round and you will go to the final, if not, you will be eliminated''

Player 120?…I could feel my jaw shaking and my hands scratching the fabric of my gloves, Hyun-Ju.

The room that was totally dark lit up slightly in the center revealing a guard offering her a loaded gun, I could see her for a couple of seconds before she hid back in the darkness with her face wet from tears and her hands shaking with the gun between them.

''The game begins!'' the speaker spoke making a childish music that tormented my ears sound, the gun barrel pushed me making me walk in silence through the darkness to stop when I heard the silence again

Marco…- Hyun-Ju mentioned with her trembling voice

Polo…- I said while the mask distorted my voice and a shot was heard in the room

It hadn't hit me.

''The game continues!'' the voice sounded in the speaker continuing with the music again and they pushed me to walk again, my feet almost dragged themselves stumbling, it didn't matter that my tears clouded my vision anyway I couldn't see in the dark

The music stopped again

Marco…-Hyun-Ju almost screamed this time

Polo…- I said trying not to make my trembling voice noticeable

Again another shot rang out making me jump but again, it didn't hit me.

''Player 120, you have two more chances, let's continue!'' The speaker played music again and I stumbled when I felt the push of the gun on my back

The music was playing slower and slower in my head, there was no chance for me after all and the only hope I had was that Hyun-Ju would get out of here and fulfill her dream, that she would finally be happy after all.

Marco - I heard her voice in the distance like an echo in the void that reverberated in every distant wall of the place

Polo - I barely murmured…

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Alternative ANGST Ending

Alternative FLUFF Ending

Many thanks to everyone who was part of this and encouraged me to keep writing, you really made my days better, I love reading you and I promise I'll be back with more work, I hope I don't disappoint you.

Thanks for reading, I'll be back soon!

Tag List!

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#squid game #squid game 2 #cho hyunju #cho hyun ju #cho hyun-ju #squid game imagine #squid game season 2 #squid game x reader #cho hyun ju x reader #cho hyun ju imagine #cho hyun ju fluff #cho hyunju imagine #park sunghoon imagine #park sunghoon #park sung hoon #park sung hoon imagine #park sung hoon x reader #park sunghoon x reader

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sugurusfavemonkey · 3 days ago

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HIGH ACHIEVER - ONE: HOW TO BE A TEAM PLAYER

summary: You've always prided yourself on your grades but when Suguru enters the scene, competing for the top spot in your major becomes more than just a matter of honor. What happens when you're forced to work together on a long project (and so what if he happens to be just your type)? pairing: Geto Suguru x reader word count: 2k content: college AU; academic rivals to lovers; short series; mutual hatred attraction; afab!reader; angst/comfort; reader is described as being shorter than Suguru (but then again, the man is about 6'3' so who isn't?); smut (in future chapters - MDNI) ♪playlist♪ +more Jujutsu Tech College AU

Suguru Geto was the very apex of campus.

Not only was he a big name in the basketball courts, but Geto was also the most skillful martial artist and exceeded in every single class he took, being among the top students in the academy. He was cocky but never unkind. In fact, Geto's amiability was a matter of admiration throughout the grounds. As if that hadn't been enough, he was beautiful. With his tall frame, broad shoulders, silky black hair, perfect complexion, kind caramel eyes, nihilistic smile… He was also the utter and absolute bane of your existence.

It seemed to give him the utmost joy to counter every single point you brought up in the classes you shared or to find and point out inconsistencies in your arguments. In other words: he lived to antagonize you.

You didn't even care about being valedictorian; it was nothing but a title - who were you kidding? Gojo would be getting that anyway, the boy simply didn't know how to lose. Not even Geto could surpass his GPA and ranking position combined - but you did pride yourself on your grades and learning. It's why you even attended college to begin with: it's the goal, isn't it?

The problem began when Suguru decided to make it his business always to show you up. If you were happy about your 98% on a test, he just had to point out his 99. If you accurately responded to a question made by the professor, he felt obligated to mention details you had "seemingly forgotten".

It was frankly maddening.

"Sometimes the best solutions come from intuition and an understanding of the specific circumstances of the case - it requires flexibility." you spoke when asked about evidence-based practices in class. Mr. Yaga nodded complacently and took a breath as if preparing to launch into another rhetoric when there was a loud sneer.

You knew that sound well enough it immediately caused your spine to stiffen. You didn't even have to turn on your seat to find its source.

"Anything you'd like to share, Mr. Geto?" the professor promptly asked, arms crossing in front of his chest as one of his dark eyebrows shot up above the black sunglasses that were usually covering his stern eyes.

Of course he had. Geto always had. You rolled your eyes, already anticipating his antithesis. Countering your arguments were his favorite pastime after all.

"Yes, actually," you felt his eyes burning on the back of your head, but you refused to turn and give him the satisfaction. "Relying on gut feeling when people’s lives and well-being are at stake is… precarious. Evidence-based practice relies on proven methods, which is exactly what we need: tested and effective approaches." You could almost hear the arrogant smugness in the tone of his voice and your anger bubbled over to the point of spilling.

"So you'd prefer to overlook important nuances? People are individuals, not statistics. Using averages when each case is different is inadequate at best." You retorted as you twisted in your seat, your indignant eyes meeting his cool ones.

"Mrs-" The professor tried to stop the argument before it picked up, but it was already too late the moment you decided to counter Geto. He knew exactly what the result usually was. Every member of the docent body was aware of the rivalry between you.

"All that sounds lovely, very idyllic. But we should remain grounded in measurable outcomes, not guesswork, sweetheart." Geto spoke in his usual smooth cadency, but the disdainful undertone was not lost on you. He had this complacent closed-lip smile that grated your nerves on.

You scoffed at the belittling term of endearment he used, "A more creative, personalized approach builds trust and leads to success."

"And how do you plan to measure this success?"

"Success cannot be measured by research."

"And you suggest not relying on research? That is irresponsible."

"That is not what I-"

"Enough!" Mr. Yaga bellowed, clearly having had enough of the back and forth between the two of you. You clamped your mouth shut, embarrassment making your skin warm. "As much as all of your points are valid and very pertinent to our subject matter, you're letting your nerves get the best of you. I wish to continue my lecture now though." He paused gaze moving from you to Geto, "unless that would inconvenience either of you, of course."

You let your body slide down on your chair so as to avoid the attention still feeling Geto's gaze lingering on you. You hated that you let yourself be moved by his obvious bait, that you coulddn't help but rise to the occasion whenever he so much as breathed in your general vicinity. You wished you could say you had better self-control but you simply did not. It's a pain and a chore really.

The lecture picked back up after your humiliating schtick without further incidents… mostly because you decided not to chime in anymore. And, of course, without you to counterattack, Geto felt it would be pointless to partake in the discussion. Asshole.

You sighed in relief when the professor dismissed the class, quickly throwing your laptop and water bottle inside your bag and making a beeline to the door when he called your name followed by Geto's.

"I'd like to speak to both of you for a moment."

"I have to get to my next class-" you started to protest, hands tightening on the strap of your bag when he interrupted you:

"It'll only take a minute, Mrs."

You sighed and timidly moved closer to his desk, fingers still fidgeting. You could feel Geto's presence right beside you, but refused to even glance his way.

"This feuding between you is getting out of hand. I'd like to ask you to take it easy on the altercations from now on. You both make valid points most of the time, you should learn to compromise every now and then. Being this intransigent will get you nowhere in life." Mr. Yaga glare had you cowering slightly, shoulders hunching in. "You two are my best students in this subject so I decided to pair you up for a special semester-long project. That should teach you a little bit about accommodating the other's needs."

"What?!" you nearly choked on your spit.

"I want you to write a paper evaluating the impact of local outreach programs. It'll be worth 25% of your final grades. I'll email you the details. You're dismissed."

"Profes-" once more you tried to object but Yaga gave you no chance to even finish your thought:

"I said you're dismissed." He stood his ground, not bothering to even look at you as he started stacking the papers on his desk.

You huffed in annoyance and marched out of the auditorium. You heard Geto's steps and tried to walk ahead of him, avoiding the consequential conversation after receiving such horrid news but he easily caught up to you with his stupid long legs.

"Give me your phone." his velvety voice demanded. You stopped in the middle of the corridor and he did the same, turning his body to you, proudly crowding in on you and towering over your form, mindless of the other people walking past form both directions.

"What? No," you scoffed indignantly. Geto sighed and rolled his eyes, clearly regretting this exchange as much as you.

"I'm just gonna add my number to your contacts. As much as I'm dreading this, it is not the kind of project we can just work on separately and then put it all together. It should be seamless."

That made you pause. You really couldn't argue with that sentiment. Still, you were so used to it that you couldn't help but affronting Geto: "Huh. I didn't think you had it in you to be reasonable."

"Ha. Ha. Very funny." He deadpanned. You did hand over your phone after unlocking it and opening the contact info page after a second of hesitation when you found no hidden agenda behind his demeanor.

"Just type in your number so we can get this over with. I'd like to get this over with as soon as possible. My daily quota of you is already blown over." You said as you crossed your arms in front of your chest.

Your words had the opposite of the expected reaction though as you saw the moment his smile turned predatory. You steeled yourself for his upcoming retort but none came.

Your eyes instantaneously flitted to the strand of hair that fell off his half-up hairdo and covered his left eye as he lowered his head to type on your phone. You hated that if anyone ever critiqued a man bun that's because they had never seen Suguru Geto's. That man sure knew how to pull off one of the most controversial hairstyles to ever exist. You couldn't imagine there was something he wouldn't be able to pull off, to be honest… what a shame he had to be an insufferable asshole.

"That implies you need at least a small amount of me in your day." you were so enraptured in your analysis of his hair that you almost missed his jab.

"No, I-" you scowled in disgust, nearly ripping the unoffending device from his offering hand once he turned it back your way. "In your dreams, Geto."

He only hummed in response, that stupid smirk on his face. Again.

"Fuck you, Geto," you threw over your shoulder as you turned on your heel, not wasting any more time before heading for your next class.

"I'll text you, sweetheart!" He called after you, the sound of his laughter following.

You ground your teeth together in anger, your face feeling uncharacteristically warm. You only let yourself check your phone after you turned a corner so you were absolutely certain you were no longer in his field of vision. You stared in perplexity at the name he saved his number under.

"I can't believe this pretentious douchebag had the audacity… most brilliant colleague my ass!"

You were switching up his name in your contacts to 'arrogant prick n2' instead when you heard your friend's voice calling you over.

"Where were you? The class starts in less than a minute and you know how Gakuganji gets with laggers," her short dyed blonde hair swayed as she glanced from your approaching form to the open double doors to the lecture hall by her right.

You rushed towards Akari with a quick apology and a "what are you doing out here then?"

"It's not as if his lectures are ever full." She shrugged easily flitting her arm to yours so you could enter together.

"Noted."

The two of you easily found and occupied a couple of seats by the back right before Gakuganji launched into a dull monologue on the psychological effects of music on the brain, which could have been an interesting subject if it wasn't taught by someone closer to a mummy than a human with the most boring cadency to his voice.

"Did Yaga hold over the class?" Akari mumbled the question as she set up her laptop.

"Held me over, you mean," you murmured back. You felt her questioning gaze settle on you, so you decided to further explain, "he wants me to work on some big project about local outreach programs."

"That sounds like a lot of work, why only you?"

"Not only me. Something about learning to concede or some shit like that."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, apparently I have been too intransigent with Geto and now we gotta learn to work together."

She let out a loud sound, a mix between laughter and a snort which immediately had Gakuganji dark eyes turning your way.

"Sorry!" Akari winced, "I, uhn, chocked.

The professor huffed and you waited for some sort of reprimand, but he only got right back into his spiel.

"You're joking? You mean to say you have to work with Suguru Geto?"

"Unfortunately."

"Well, say goodbye to Jujutsu Tech, because the two of you are about to wreck this whole school."

She wasn't wrong.

next >>

Jujutsu Tech College AU taglist: @indiewritesxoxo @nanasukii28

#mavi writes #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x you #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #geto x reader #suguru x reader #jjk fluff #geto x you #suguru smut #geto suguru x reader

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itsnesss · 23 hours ago

Note

hi! i read your other works and i LOVE your junho stories! could you write one where reader comes back from the games (maybe everyone voted to leave) and junho has been trying to find them? i love angst but please with a happy ending 🙏🏽

𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | hwang jun-ho × fem!reader

summary | the request

warnings | angst, emotional turmoil, implied trauma, mentions of running away, themes of guilt and forgiveness, hurt/comfort, fluff ending

word count | 2.1 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

You stand in front of your apartment door, breathing heavily. The key trembles slightly between your fingers, and a gust of cold air runs through your body. You've been out longer than you wanted, though the truth is, you still don’t know what to say to him. You don’t know if the words you’ve prepared will be enough. All you have is fear, uncertainty, and a growing sense that you can’t delay this moment any longer.

With one last deep breath, you turn the key and open the door. The familiar smell of the place envelops you, but there’s something different. Something you hadn’t noticed before. A trace of anxiety seems to linger in every corner. The silence of the place surrounds you, and in that instant, everything feels heavier. And there he is. Asleep on the couch. His jacket is wrinkled, his face tired, his hair disheveled, but still as beautiful as ever.

You let out a sigh as you take in the scene. He’s been waiting for you. He’s been looking for you relentlessly. For days, he’s been following your trail, calling your phone, sending messages. But you never answered. You never told him anything. You had left, but you couldn’t tell him the truth. He couldn’t know what had really happened.

You approach slowly, trying not to make a sound. Each step is a small reminder of what you’ve lived through. You sit next to him on the couch, and for a second, you just watch him, his calm breathing and relaxed face. You’d like to think that, in some way, all of this is real, but you know it isn’t. The shadows of what you’ve been through follow you, and the scars of everything you’ve endured are still too fresh.

The sound of your breathing is the only thing you can hear, and that sound seems to make the outside world fade away. The world you once believed in, where everything seemed simple. But now, nothing is as it seems. Everything has changed. Everything inside you has changed.

"Junho..." you whisper softly, not wanting to wake him. But you do. He opens his eyes slowly, confused by the change in the air. His gaze is slightly clouded with sleep, but when he sees you, something in him ignites. Concern begins to settle into his face, displacing the exhaustion.

"Are you... are you okay?" His voice, though raspy, is filled with worry. He immediately sits up, taking your hands in his. His grip is firm but gentle, as if he’s afraid to let you go, as if he fears you might disappear again.

Your eyes drift to the floor for a moment, unable to meet his. It hurts so much to see him like this. You’ve missed him, but the fear of what he might think if he knew the truth about what you experienced in that cursed game is greater than anything else. You don’t want to see him suffer because of you. You can’t.

"I’m sorry..." The anguish is palpable in your tone, but you don’t want to tell him the truth. Not immediately. Not now. The last thing you want is to drag him into your torment.

"I was looking for you everywhere. I didn’t know what had happened to you. I thought... I thought something terrible had happened," he says, his expression a mix of pain and frustration. The worry shines in his eyes. His breathing is uneven, and you realize how much he’s suffered during these days without hearing from you.

The guilt consumes you. Leaving him, making him suffer while you... you were living through an endless nightmare. But the worst part is that you can’t tell him.

"I had... I had some things to take care of," you reply, trying to make your voice sound steady, though inside you’re falling apart. "I didn’t mean to worry you."

A bitter laugh escapes your mouth, as if those words could justify everything you’ve done. He looks at you in disbelief, as if he can’t believe what you’ve just said.

"But I was so scared... why didn’t you tell me anything?" His voice trembles with restrained emotion, a small thread of anguish in his tone. "I looked for you everywhere, sent messages, called you, but... nothing. I didn’t know if I should come find you, if I should keep waiting, or if something terrible had happened—"

You feel like you’re trapped, trapped in a deep pit you don’t know how to climb out of. The truth weighs on you, consumes you, but you can’t tell him.

"I... I’m sorry," you say, unable to hold his gaze any longer. Your hands tremble as they touch his, but somehow, the warmth of his touch comforts you. It’s not enough. It isn’t. But for a second, you feel safe.

Junho stays silent for a moment, watching you. You don’t know what’s going through his mind, but you can see how deeply every word affects him. His face is marked by a mix of frustration, desperation, and pain. But instead of pulling away, he moves even closer, his fingers gently brushing your face. The softness of his touch burns you, and your eyes fill with tears. You sink a little further into that pit. But now, it’s different. You’re not alone anymore.

"Don’t leave me," he whispers, his voice deep, laden with emotion. "No matter what you’ve done, I don’t want to lose you."

And those words pierce your heart like an arrow. Those words are the purest truth you’ve ever heard. But you still feel the weight of what you’ve done, of what you’ve lived through. Of what you’ll never be able to tell him.

"You can’t..." you murmur, your eyes fixed on the floor. "I don’t deserve to be near you..."

Junho takes a step closer to you, his forehead touching yours, the warmth of his body almost merging with yours. He makes you feel a little lighter, as if, for a moment, everything is okay.

"Don’t talk like that," he says softly, but his eyes are filled with pain. "What happened? Why are you so tired? What have you been doing?"

Your eyes fill with tears. In your heart, you know you can never tell him everything that happened. But you also don’t want him to keep suffering because of your absence. Because of what wasn’t. Because of everything you couldn’t avoid.

"It was just... just a rough time, Junho. I don’t want to talk about it now," you say, trembling slightly. You feel his breath near yours, his warmth surrounding you. But inside, you feel broken. What will you tell him? How do you explain everything that happened?

He takes a deep breath, but instead of pressing you, he simply hugs you. His body envelops yours, and he holds you tightly, as if he wants to merge with you, as if he can’t bear the thought of you leaving without a trace. The hug becomes a refuge, a safe place where words don’t matter, where all that’s left is the moment.

"What hurts me the most isn’t not knowing what you did, but how I felt when I thought I’d lost you," he says, his voice breaking. "All I want is for you to be here, with me."

The sound of his voice, filled with such pure emotion, makes you feel something you hadn’t felt in days: peace. Peace amidst chaos.

"I’m here, Junho," you finally say, looking up at him. "I don’t know what else to do, but I want you to forgive me."

He looks at you for a long moment, his eyes so soft they seem to hold everything he feels for you. And in that moment, you know. You don’t need to tell him anything else. It doesn’t matter what happened, what you lived through, what you endured. What matters is what you both have now. And that’s enough.

"I forgive you," he says softly, before moving even closer. His lips meet yours in a tender kiss, full of promises. He holds you as if he’s grateful to have you back, and you do the same, giving him everything you have in that moment.

Love isn’t always easy. It’s not always what we expect. But here, in this small corner of his apartment, under the dim light of the lamps, you know that together, you can face whatever comes.

"Promise me we’ll never be apart again," he murmurs against your lips, smiling softly.

"Promise," you reply, letting the tears fall freely now, unafraid.

And in that instant, all the pain, all the suffering, disappears. It’s just you, Junho, and the warmth of his embrace that makes you feel safe again.

#jun ho squid game #squid game #squid game x fem!reader #squid game x reader #hwang junho #hwang jun ho x reader #hwang jun ho #jun ho x reader

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starredblood · 18 hours ago

Text

NOWHERE GIRL

PART NINE

kang sae-byeok x fem!reader

synopsis: you reunite with the ones who helped you from the start, hoping for a fresh start.

wc. 2.2k

warnings: bit of angst and a splash of comfort

(nowhere girl masterlist)

You reach over to gently tap Sae-byeok’s arm to lull her awake. She let out a low grumble before flinching back. You gasp when she threw herself back, pressing her back on the wall of the bakery and threw you a look of horror with her bloodshot eyes. She breathes heavily and begins to wonder if you were just a figment of her imagination.

Perhaps the week you stayed with them (or the entirety of March) the colors were drained from your body. Now it’s like you’re back in full spring.

Your natural blush is more pigmented, your muscles are relaxed back, and you’re dressed in more brighter attiring. The way you were looking at Sae-byeok now was different. Instead of a scared young girl, you had a glint of confidence in your eyes.

Sae-byeok feels like she is looking at a new version of you, and just like that she felt like she was meeting you for the first time again.

But she didn’t want to think too much about your brighter appearance when you’ve been avoiding her.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she asks, still catching her breath.

You blink. Almost forgetting what you came here to do. “Right. I came to give you these. As a final thank you for everything.” you laugh nervously and reach over to hand her the bouquet.

Sae-byeok quirks an eyebrow. No one has even given her flowers. What use will she have for them? Her eyes flicker back and worth to you and the flowers. You wait patiently for her to grab them but she still looks too tense to grasp the fact that you were here.

You lower your arm and sigh at your failed attempt. “I specifically chose yellow lilies because they stand for happiness and new beginnings. And lavender because they represent silence and calmness but they’re also uniquely cool—kind of like you.”

Sae-byeok blinks at them, her expression unreadable. That’s when an alarm on her phone went off. She went to go shut it off and you watch her walk to the kitchen leaving you astray with the rejected bouquets.

As hurt as you felt, you took a deep breath and dragged your foot out the bakery. A part of you expected this, you did disappear without warning. Maybe the rejection was well deserved. You wanted a fresh start, but you had to pick yourself back together again before making amends but maybe you took too long. These past two weeks did feel like an eternity.

You headed over to the entrance leading up to your quaint studio next to the bakery but got taken aback when someone slams the door just as you were about to enter it.

“Have you been avoiding me?” Sae-byeok asks quietly but her voice slightly quivers in frustration.

You frown at her even as she avoided looking at you. “I was giving you space. And I was hoping that after I got my act together maybe we could start over. That’s what I came over to do.”

Although you have a small roof over your head now, you spent most of your days cooped up in the school library trying to catch up on all the homework and projects that got destroyed in the hands of that devil they call,Yen-ho. If you weren’t in class or school, then you were at work. You’ve never been this busy in your life, you actually surprised yourself these past two weeks.

And the few breaks you gave yourself in the day, it was only to ponder on your choices and decisions. Even you have some resentment for your parents, you miss your mom’s home cooked meals and car rides with your dad when he dropped you off at school or work. It’s hard not to think about them everyday even if it’s an over thought.

You miss home. You miss your room, and you always wonder if they got rid of everything in your room by now or kept in just in case their baby makes it back home enveloped in their arms. Your new apartment lacks the warmth you had before. Everything feels cold and estranged.

By the time you were caught up on everything, your neck is constantly sore from always looking down and you have trouble sleeping most nights with the looming thoughts of perhaps forgetting to do one assignment or thinking about your family.

“I had a rough start obviously but I’m caught up on all of my classes now. Caught up in life in general actually.” you say softer. “How are you—Cheol and Ji-yeong? How’s everyone?”

Sae-byeok didn’t budge. She turns to look at you blankly so you wouldn’t guess her true feelings, like some sort of defense mechanism. You wonder if she was putting up her walls again.

“Do you actually care or are you saying that in case you need our help again?”

You force a slight smile to pretend her words didn’t sting you a bit. “I’m not the selfish person you think I am.” you say and Sae-byeok scoffs. “You know, it’s not wise to judge someone you only knew for a week.”

Without any further comment, she stuffs her hands into her pockets and starts walking in the opposite direction.

“Where are you going?”

“To pick up, Cheol.” she says. You watch her dumbfounded. Sae-byeok swiftly turns around with a sly look etching her face. “Are you going to prove me wrong?”

You send her a quizzical look. She raises both her eyebrows waiting for you to get what she was asking from you. Was it was her subtle way of asking to get to know you?

”I will.” you say more confidently. Sae-byeok nods slightly, her cold expression remaining on her face. “Actually, you guys should pop up by my place today if you’re all free. I’m cooking dinner.”

“…We’ll think about it.” she responds after a minute of thinking long and hard about your invitation. You nod and gently wave her goodbye before entering the stairs leading up to your apartment.

You have a feeling they will arrive so panic begins to set in your body. Truthfully, you didn’t actually plan to make dinner today.

✿・・───・・✦・・───・・✿

Sae-byeok leans against the wall, quietly observing the personality of your studio apartment . It was definitely small, resembling an attic. With the living room, bathroom and kitchen being close together and upstairs just big enough to fit your mattress that doesn’t have a bed frame yet. However, it seems as if you were dedicated to make this place look alive and livable.

You had your handcrafted art pieces and sculptures scattered around the walls, kitchen counter and even on the floor since you had no real piece of furniture yet. Apart from the plastic table that seated three by the only small rectangular window, you also had an oversized peace lily by the entrance that was gifted to you by Miss Ahn, who is a known plant connoisseur. Sae-byeok didn’t understand why you had so many multicolored fairy lights scattered around the ceilings, but she guesses it’s because there is a lack of natural lighting here.

“Wow, this place looks good already.” Ji-yeong says after roaming the apartment for ten minutes now. She stares up at the fairy lights in awe, reaching to tap one gently. “We lived in our apartment for three months now and it still looks the same since when we moved in. Right, Sae-byeok?”

“Thanks.” you say bashfully as you began platting the garlic spam fried rice. It’s your first time cooking for other people apart from Miss Ahn who you taught you how to make this easy cheap dinner last week. “I’m thinking of going to a thrift store soon to look for a nice couch.”

“Meh, you shouldn’t rush furniture shopping.“ she advises and sits across Cheol who was busy coloring in your old sketchbook. “When we finally moved in and found out how much a mattress cost my heart seriously fucking dropped—oh! Sorry, Cheol.”

“It’s okay. Noona swears all the time in our room.” he says innocently.

Ji-yeong looks over at Sae-byeok who was still by the wall studying your apartment. “Hey. Dinner is almost ready.”

“There’s only three chairs. I’ll just stand and eat.” she says coolly.

“Nonsense. Come and sit I have to submit an assignment that’s due tonight so you guys eat while I do that in my bed.” you reassure her, place the plates of hot food on the table. “Also, I forgot to buy drinks but I can give you water.”

“Sure!” Ji-yeong chirps and starts digging a spoonful of rice into her mouth. She groans in satisfaction. “You might just beat Sae-byeok as the better cook.”

“Shut up.” you laugh, pouring water into each of their cups.

“I’m serious. Sae-byeok hurry and try it.” she urges when the stone faced girl finally sat down.

Embarrassed to see her reaction you quickly excuse yourself to march up to your bed. You take a quick peek at the three guests before kneeling down to lift your mattress off of the floor. You pull out the cash filled envelope and shove in deep into the pocket of your sweatpants. You were going to use this money to buy a new laptop but you can hold on and use the library computers for now. Now you just sit on the edge of your bed and extra few minutes to not raise suspicions although you doubt they’ll suspect you of anything.

“Eight out ten.” Ji-yeong says when you came back downstairs. “A little bit salty but still delicious.”

“I’ll take it.” you smile and look at Sae-byeok. “What do you rate it, huh?”

Sae-byeok takes another spoonful to make a decision. “Seven out of ten.”

“Alright next time you have to cook for us since you’re so picky.” you say, playfully.

“It’s an eleven out of ten for me, Noona!” Cheol says, grinning ear to ear something you haven’t seen before.

“Oh wow, thank you, Cheol! You were the only one I cared to know what they thought about my food.” you beam. You didn’t know if you were hearing things, but you could’ve sworn Sae-byeok let out a quiet snort.

“Thanks for inviting us. It’s good to see you’re doing better.” Ji-yeong says, smiling slightly.

“I hope next time you visit I’ll have more to show you other than my seven out of ten cooking though.”

“If you’re a seven out of ten then I’m down in the gutters.” she murmurs, scratching the top of her head.

The three visitors mingled for another hour or so helping you clean the dishes and wipe down the kitchen before deciding that it was time to head home when the sun left the horizons. However, you quietly ask Sae-byeok to speak in private while she was putting on her coat. She threw you an odd look before hesitating to accept your request. Ji-yeong gave you both skeptical glances but remained quiet as she took Cheol with her out the apartment.

“Woah. What the hell are you doing?” Sae-byeok says when you pull out the envelope of cash. Her eyes grew wide and fearful. “Stop. I didn’t do it for money.”

“I know, I know but I want to help. You already work so much and also take care of Cheol and—you look so tired. I’m concerned.” you say, giving her a pleading look. “Come on, you didn’t even take the flowers that I brought you earlier.”

“I’m not taking your money.” Sae-byeok says, backing away. “This isn’t what I meant when I asked if you cared!”

“Do you really want me to give you a speech? When Ji-yeong and Cheol are waiting outside?” you cross your arms. Sae-byeok reaches for the door knob. “Stop! Hey—look after what you’ve done for me you truly earned my respect!”

Sae-byeok freezes when she twisted the knob. Her eyes get darker and narrower. “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know much about you or your past but I can tell you had to do cold and heartless things to survive and no person deserves that. Especially being so young. So, just take this it’s—it’s not a lot but as long as you aren’t overworking yourself to death for a bit will make me content.”

You reach to grab Sae-byeok’s hand and place the envelope on her palm, she gently curls her fingers around it.

“Can I be honest with you?” you ask. She lets out a faint sniffle but shakes her head. “I used to live life in a bubble wrap. I have—I had two loving parents, a group of friends and school. That was it—and it was easy. I’ve never known real hard work until I had to leave everything behind…and I was ready to give up but you and Ji-yeong and even Cheol gave me strength. I don’t know what it was about you guys that did but maybe one day I’ll figure it out and I’ll let you know when I do.”

The tension in the air was killer. You hold your breath afraid that even your faint breathing will disturb whatever was on Sae-byeok’s mind. She was your enigma. Never have you met someone as confusing as her.

“Thank you.” she says barely above whisper, staring down at her shoes.

“Thank me by taking care of yourself.” you say in a light tone hoping that she will be comfortable looking at you. “You should probably go now before Ji-yeong and Cheol get worried. I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah.” she croaks. “Bye.”

To your disappointment, Sae-byeok’s head remained lowered till the moment she walked out the door. But you hope that over time you get to know what underneath her hard cold surface.

🏷️: @monroesturnns @knfthxv @jumpedthenfell-13 @peelover25 @karli6 @kissedberries @bitchybananaflower @laurenkenss @saebyeokbliss

#kang sae byeok #kang sae byeok x reader #squid game #squid game fanfic #fanfic #kang sae byeok squid game #kang sae byeok x fem!reader #wlw #wlw fanfic #kang saebyeok x reader #kang saebyeok

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myownwholewildworld · 2 days ago

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vi. O Seanalair - acta, non verba

chapter 5 | series masterlist | ao3 pairing: conqueror!marcus acacius x ofc!reader. summary: you irremediably find yourself in Marcus' bed again and make a discovery which may help your people. a/n: i have a genuine question. do people like long chapters? because i can't seem to stop when i start writing for these two D: as always, all interactions welcome, i do appreciate you liking, sharing and/or commenting! take care 💖 warnings: 18+, mdni. mentions of war, death, marital abuse, etc - i think you know the drill by now. attempted SA (not by Marcus), callie fights back. fluff and angst. some internal battles. smut. unprotected piv but no creampie. oral (m!receiving). fingering (f!receiving). sleepy morning sex. aftercare. marcus is 49, ofc!reader (callie) is 26. unbeta'd. if i'm forgetting anything, please let me know! w/c: ~11.3k. dividers by @\saradika-graphics taglist at the end (let me know if you want to be added/removed please!)

You couldn’t stop thinking about him, about what happened yesterday morning. Every time your mind wandered, it ran back to the exact moment Marcus buried himself in your slick heat for the first time.

How he made you feel. How he ensured you were comfortable and thriving under his touch. How he talked you through it and paced it down to make the whole experience even more pleasurable. How his fingers found refuge in your pussy, working you expertly in preparation to take him. How your cunt deliciously burnt with that heavenly stretch.

How you were gushing now for him, craving the fullness of his dick, pussy desperately clenching around nothing.

“Dè air thalamh? (What on earth?)” you mumbled to yourself, shaking your head to clear your mind.

The fact that the memory kept coming back―to your despair―was dangerous, extremely dangerous. Yes, sex had been good ― no, fucking amazing. But it didn’t mean anything, nothing at all.

A means to an end, that’s all he is, you mentally reprimanded yourself.

It shouldn’t bias you, despite how good he had fucked you. You couldn’t get… attached, because whatever this was, it was doomed from the beginning. That was what you had decided the first time you locked eyes with him in the battlefield, and you were not one to go back on a promise. Especially one you made to yourself ― to avenge your family.

To your disgust, you had to admit to yourself that it was harder to keep the focus on that now, knowing how satiated he had left you yesterday. It was truly shameful that you were looking forward to getting fucked stupid again.

In a couple of hours, hopefully. You couldn't wait to have Marcus plunge in and out of you. In... Out... So deep inside…

You bit your bottom lip down out of pure, horny desperation and pressed your knees together, containing the dampness that threatened to soak your underwear if you didn’t rein your thoughts in.

“A bheil thu nad shlàinte, mo bana-phrionnsa? (Are you well, my princess?)” Brighid’s soft voice pierced through your wet daydream, bringing you back to reality.

Blinking rapidly, you gave her a stern nod. A muted reply, since your throat felt dry with desire.

“Are you sure, my lady? You look flushed. There’s a fever going around in the village,” she pushed, lips pouted with concern.

Fuck, kill me now.

“I’m fine, Brighid, don’t worry,” you croaked once you found your voice.

Your cheeks were burning and had nothing to do with an illness. Unless feeling cock-drunk could be considered an ailment. Maybe it should.

“Are Daimh and Iona sick? Perhaps you―”

“They are fine. It’s just hot in here with the hearth running on full blast,” you cut her off, slightly embarrassed by the fact that Brighid had noticed your flustering.

But if she had been fucked the way you had been, she would fully understand. Of that you were sure.

Not by Marcus though, she can find another man. He’s mine.

What the hell was that about?

To avoid any further interrogation, you grabbed the jug, filled to the rim with wine. Veering around, you exited the kitchen promptly. The cold air of the hallway was most welcomed ― the Gods knew you needed it, considering you were about to enter the room where the personification of your wet dreams was.

As soon as you reached the double doors to the great hall, you quickly scanned the room. Every night the great hall of your family home would be desecrated with the presence of your enemy. The legionnaires were chatting and laughing loudly, goblets clinking with their contents spilt all over the wooden tables.

Once a sanctuary for your family and clan, you barely recognised it anymore. The beautiful tapestries that your ancestors had woven had been taken down, the stone walls bare and undressed. Even with the giant fireplace crackling nearby, it still felt cold. It even smelt different ― musty and sweaty, the lingering stench of death they carried coating the air.

Pushing those thoughts aside, you made your way to the dais. Only when you went up the wooden step did you realise that Marcus’ chair was occupied by a man you didn’t recognise, and Maximus’ spot was empty. Another sweep of the room told you what your blood already knew: for whatever reason, they had stepped out.

“Expecting someone else, puella (girl)?” the man on Marcus’ chair cackled as you approached, interrupting his talk with Cassius.

Raising a mighty brow, you decidedly ignored him, pouring wine in Cassius’ cup.

“I am talking to you, you stupid, savage woman,” he sneered.

Before you could think, the man laced his arm around your waist, forcing you to sit on his lap. Your blood ran hot with rage, palms itching to slap him until he fell unconscious. The need to turn around and spit on his face was a call from the Gods themselves.

But you couldn’t, not in a room full of Romans who would behave exactly the same way. You were at a loss here, and you only wished that when the day came and you encountered this bastard on the battlefield, you could slit his throat.

Clutching the jug between your hands, your eyes landed on Cassius. He was watching you with intent, almost studying you, but it was pretty obvious that he was not about to keep his man in check. If anything, he was about to fucking smile.

“Where’s that arrogant look now, huh?” the man cackled, pressing you against his tiny bulge.

“Do you really think you can threaten me with that?” you hissed, referring to the small erection brushing your buttocks. “That is the size of a barnacle.”

You definitely hit a nerve there, because the man pushed you off his lap hastily, grunting something unintelligible, but heard enough to know he was cursing you.

How bad you wished you could empty the contents of the jug on his face. For a long minute, you really considered it, running through the scenario and its outcomes in your mind ― you would be fast enough to catch him off guard, throw the jug at him and make a run for the small door on the back of the dais, latching it behind you and running up the spiral staircase to your father’s solar.

However, before you could act on any of it, Marcus’ deep voice interrupted your train of thought.

“Move, Brutus. Now,” Marcus snarled.

You turned around at the fury his tone distilled, his eyes locked on the man you now knew as Brutus. His pupils had darkened, his jaw tightened. Despite the tenderness he had shown you in the bedchamber, the General was an imposing man outside of it, and Brutus knew as much.

He soon scuttled away like the vermin he was, while Cassius straightened his back, eyes fixed to the front, avoiding contact with his General. Odd.

Maximus was a few steps behind Marcus, closing the door you had planned to escape through. The thought of both of them in your father’s solar didn’t sit well with you, but there wasn’t much you could say without blowing your cover.

“Dux Meus,” you bowed your head down, stepping aside to let him sit.

His opaque orbs lingered on you for a second too long, softening ever so slightly as he studied your composed expression.

You gave him a feeble smile, averting your eyes so people would not notice the brief exchange. By the way Maximus cleared his throat and a smirk curled his lips, you had not been as subtle as you had originally thought.

Once both men were seated, you proceeded to fill Marcus’ goblet. Your hand was still trembling with the fury that coursed through your veins, causing the jug to almost kick the wooden cup. Thankfully, Marcus caught it before it spilt.

His eyes shot to yours, and they were screaming at you. His mouth didn’t open, but his orbs spoke for him very loudly: Are you okay? What’s happened? They were mad with worry ― an honest one you didn’t expect at all. The hand that a second ago was straightening the cup, was now softly clamping around your wrist, the shaking gone under his soothing caress.

The weight of his sight, of his concern for you, was momentarily overwhelming.

“I’m okay,” you whispered before he spoke, giving him a reassuring nod.

“Are you―?”

“I’m fine, truly,” you insisted, worried that people would pick up on your hushed conversation.

Marcus finally let go of your wrist, and soon after you stepped off the dais to fill other goblets.

For the rest of the night, he couldn’t take his eyes off you. Before his private conversation with Maximus in the castle’s solar, you had been acting all lively and relaxed, but since his return, your features had been tamed into feigned calmness. Marcus could feel the anger simmering beneath your skin, seeping like venom dripping off a serpent’s fangs.

Wished he had stayed so could understand what had changed, but his duties to the Empire should come first. That morning, he had learnt that Agricola had been ordered back to Rome, claiming that the Caledonian tribes had been subdued, and his replacement would be Sallustius Lucullus. This news came like a shock to Marcus, who could not wrap his head around the fact that Rome was willing to withdraw the vast majority of troops to assist with other conflicts elsewhere in the Empire. It meant they would be left alone in an island that was far from conquered, despite what the false propaganda said.

They only had a couple of weeks before Agricola left with his men, leaving Marcus’ battalion, and other small military pockets around the area, in a very compromised position. In light of this new situation, Maximus and Marcus had discussed going to the Roman fort of Cawdor, just fifteen miles east of Inbhir Nis, to talk to Agricola before his departure.

But now, seeing your composed demeanour, he wished he could have stayed behind. It was wrong―putting you first before the Empire―but it couldn’t be helped. You lurked in the confines of his mind, ever present in his thoughts. It was even worse considering the ring that symbolised his marriage to another woman. Everything he thought he stood up for, crumbled the moment he had his first real taste of you.

His chest still swelled at the memory of you all pliable around his girth. How you had creamed, coating him in your arousal, the first time he sank into you. How you whimpered and hissed his name in ecstasy, the most beautiful melody he had ever heard.

However, it wasn’t only that what made him swoon, but how you blindly trusted him with your pleasure. How, despite being mistreated in bed, you had let him show you how a man should treat a woman. How fucking fulfilling it had been for him to see you fall apart, rediscovering how sex should really be like.

Marcus had never felt this way before ― caring, giving, in tune with your body. The connection that tethered him to you transcended the sexual aspect your relationship had taken. For the first time in decades, his heart was not as empty and cold. He found himself craving your eyes, your proximity. Not because he wanted to bed you again―he did―but because your presence put him at ease, even when war seemed to be knocking at his door again.

“I take you’ve finally bedded her,” Maximus’ jest forced his orbs onto his friend’s.

Marcus rolled his eyes to the back of his skull, his shoulders slouching. Sometimes he wished he could sew Maximus’ lips together or punch him square in the jaw to shut him up.

Briefly looking around the table on the dais, it seemed like the other men―Cassius, Valerius, Brutus and one of Valerius’ men―were immersed in a conversation of their own.

“That’s none of your business,” he gritted between clenched teeth.

Maximus palmed his shoulder, a hearty laugh reverberating in his chest.

“I’m just saying, the sexual tension every time she comes on the dais can be cut with a sword, my friend. Good for you, about damn time,” he congratulated Marcus, removing the hand from him. “I don’t understand why you want to keep it under wraps though.”

“Because some could think I’d be fraternising with the enemy,” Marcus admitted to his friend, knowing he could confide in him. “And it’s far from it.”

Maximus’ thick brows bunched up, confused with his reply.

“Because you’re fucking one of the savages’ whores? Like every man in your legion―”

“She’s not a whore,” Marcus quickly cut him off, anger firing at the distasteful insinuation.

Maximus was taken aback by his response, silence filling the gaps in the dead conversation for a minute. Marcus looked at his Commander, his own brows knitting now too. How dared he refer to you as a prostitute? The insult burnt his insides, he’d hate himself if your reputation was sullied because of your involvement with him.

“Alright, she may not be a whore, but she is a savage. Don’t lose sight of that,” his friend replied, the mock gone from his eyes. “If she’s not a prostitute, then what does she want with you?” he hushed, tone dropping an octave so people would not listen. “Do you trust her?”

Marcus’ frown deepened, his friend’s words gnawing at him. He had not even contemplated the scenario Maximus was implying ― he thought he knew you enough now, and you wouldn’t betray him like that. Not after yesterday’s passionate morning.

“Again, none of your damn business,” he sneered, emptying the Carmo wine in his mouth with finality.

“But it is my business to worry about your safety, dammit. I’m your second in command,” Maximus sighed, a hand pinching his nose. “I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into, Acacius. There’s a lot at stake here, as you well know.”

Maximus’ reminder of his duty to Rome just angered him more.

The night was coming to an end, with the Roman soldiers scattering and walking back to the barracks. You had seen most of Marcus’ retinue leave the dais too, and you hoped you could catch him alone before he retreated to his chamber.

You were returning from the kitchen with an empty wooden tray, hoping to clear the last of the goblets off the tables and call it a day. Saying that you were looking forward to fuck Marcus tonight was an understatement ― not even the small incident with Brutus could put out the fire between your thighs.

As you ambled along the corridor, you almost collided with someone. Gripping the tray tight so it wouldn’t fall, you looked up to apologise, but the words stuck to the back of your throat.

Brutus. His cold hands clamped like a vice on either side of your waist, fingers buried so deep in your skin it would bruise. He slammed you against the stone wall, his body flush with yours and his nauseating mouth too close for comfort.

Your heart was racing wildly as your mind was coming to terms with the situation, drafting a plan.

“You’re not so fierce now, are you? How dare you insult me in front of my Commander, you slut?” the stench of his breath reached your nose, and you couldn’t help but make a face. “You are nothing more than a cockroach. If I want, I can squash you under my foot like the filthy bug you are.”

Before you could snap back with a retort, he grabbed the tray you carried and threw it to a side, then his mouth covered yours. His lips were cold and tasted horribly, his tongue trying to find an opening into your mouth. You jostled, but the grip on your hips was so tight you could barely move. His stubble prickled the skin around your mouth as Brutus kissed you sloppily, your teeth still shut.

Vile rose up to your throat, your initial panic transforming into steadfast resolution. This fucking cunt was about to get what he deserved. Who did he think he was? He was nothing, no one. A man you could best in the battlefield with one hand tied to your back and the other one holding a wooden sword, all whilst blindfolded.

When his hands loosened on your waist to very harshly squeeze one of your breasts, you took the opportunity. You lifted your knee up hastily, hitting him right on that tiny bulge he seemed to be so proud of.

Brutus started wailing, crouching with his hands protecting his groin. Placing your hands on his shoulders, you pushed him back ― snarling now, ready to fight. Quickly you snatched the tray off the cobblestone and as you were lunging forward to hit his head with it, a strong arm wrapped around your waist, freezing you in place.

Bewildered, you turned around in the arms that held you to redirect your anger at whoever dared to stop you.

Your resolution faltered the moment your emerald greens met Marcus’ brown irises.

Marcus didn’t understand what he had walked into but was pretty sure that Brutus was about to be in the receiving end of your wrath. Instinctually, he had jumped into the situation, hoping to deescalate it by holding you in place so you wouldn’t kill the man. Because if you hurt the man, Cassius would ask for your head, and he would be between a rock and a hard place.

But the moment you veered around in his embrace and Marcus saw the reddened, wet skin around your mouth, he understood.

For a second, he only stared at you, eyes fixed on your swollen lips. His brain had gone quiet, but the sudden cacophony of his own voice asking for blood brought him back.

“Marcus,” you whispered breathlessly, and his stomach churned at the unspoken plea.

His hands freed your hips to cradle your face, delving into your glassy green eyes. His heart flipped, torn with the idea of what Brutus had tried to do.

“Are you okay?” he asked the question he wished he had said an hour before.

“Aye,” you replied with a small voice.

It didn’t calm him down. In fact, he was seething with rage, blood boiling in his veins with a protectiveness unfamiliar to him.

Once he ensured you were alright, he liberated you from his grasp and faced Brutus. Commandeered by his own anger, Marcus seized Brutus by the neck of his toga, forcing him to stand up and pinned him against the wall as one of his hands clutched around the man’s neck.

Marcus really contemplated the idea of killing him. He wanted the man beheaded and six feet under. How dared he touch you? Force himself on you? Even if you weren’t his to claim, it wasn’t right ― Marcus could never put up with how badly some men treated women, so he would never allow it in his ranks.

“Marcus, don’t,” you called from behind, your soft hand squeezing his shoulder. He looked over it, jaw clenched, to glance at you. “I think…” you paused, “just let him go. I have a bad feeling about this.”

The sense you talked into him finally filtered in, and Marcus released the purchase he had on Brutus, taking a step back. His hands curled into fists at his sides ― he really wanted to smash his skull in, but you were right.

“Get out of my sight,” he muttered, and Brutus quickly obliged.

The moment you two were alone, he looked for you. His hands reached out, one sliding around your waist and his other thumb ghosting over your bottom lip. His heart was still pounding, ears ringing with fear. He couldn’t ask how you were, knowing it was an obnoxious question given the circumstances.

Your gaze locked in on his ― blown pupils, crazed darkened irises. But as much as he searched, Marcus didn’t see any dread in you. Had you been so used to being mistreated by your late husband that what happened unfazed you? How desensitised were you?

What he did see was the ghost of a past memory haunting you, the haze of years of abuse clouding your eyes. You didn’t need to speak it; he could feel it.

His heart cracked at the thought. And what pained him most was that one of his own men was who brought back the pain he had not seen yet swirling in your eyes. And it was so prominent now, he almost folded, lungs burning with ragged breaths.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, removing his hand from your face, afraid his touch would incite any more distress.

Your head tilted, eyes regaining part of the spark that reeled him in.

“You have nothing to apologise for, Dux Meus,” you uttered under your breath. “As a matter of fact, I wasn’t in need of rescuing, I was about to smash his head in and have his brain scattered around the floor.”

Despite your smile, there was no joke in your low tone. He realised you actually meant it. And he shouldn’t be surprised, considering he’d already seen you take a man’s life with no regrets.

“I know, but I failed on my promise.”

“What promise?” you asked, confused, with a cocked brow.

“I swore to you that I wouldn’t let this happen again. And it has, right under my nose,” Marcus confessed, the ride back to the castle after the attack still vivid in his mind. “That you wouldn’t need to defend yourself.”

Your brows lifted, expression softening and lips pouting. Were you trying to hide a grimace?

“It’s alright,” you shrugged. “I’m used to it.”

You said it as if it was meant to make him feel better, but it had the opposite effect on him. If anything, it made him feel worse.

The faded sound of footfall approaching broke the moment, both of you untangling from each other and taking a couple of steps back. Marcus watched one of the other maids scurry along, her scared eyes dancing between the two of you. For a moment, it seemed like she was about to intervene in defence of you.

“Do Ghras (Your Grace),” she mumbled in your language, one Marcus didn’t understand a word of.

Quickly, you gave her a stern look and the girl’s eyes widened dramatically, then bowed her head down and ran towards the double doors as if the devil himself was chasing her.

Your eyes shot back to his, pupils enlarged again, studying his face with a vehemence that would have forced any other man to look away. But he didn’t, mesmerised by the strength you were showing after what had happened. Any other woman in your situation would be upset, but here you were standing as if nothing of relevance had happened.

His eyes lingered on your face, deciphering how you really felt. The darkening purple mark tarnishing your bottom lip really concerned him, to the point where he couldn’t stop himself from raising his hand towards your face.

Your head snapped back away from his touch. Marcus flinched at the rejection, slightly hurt ― but he couldn’t blame you for reacting that way, he should have known where the limit was. It was understandable that you didn’t want to be touched after…

His blood began to boil again ― Brutus would pay, he would find a way to make him suffer.

As his hand dropped back to his side, you took a step forward towards him ― your fingers lacing around his wrist. The caress of your palm against his skin was warm, but your gaze was warmer. Marcus froze in place, overpowered by your eyes.

You averted your beautiful orbs, looking down to the cobblestone, as your free hand tucked away a stray red curl behind your ear. That mere gesture flooded his chest, replacing anger with care. Despite how strong-willed you were, there was this aura of innocence around you; one he had not fully perceived until yesterday morning. Now that Marcus thought he knew you a tad more, every piece of the puzzle started falling into place.

But you still surprised him.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Trained reaction…” you trailed off with half-lidded eyes, your teeth sinking in the cushion of your bottom lip.

You didn’t need to finish that sentence for he knew how it ended. Your late husband was, once again, sullying your thoughts.

Heart clenching in his chest, Marcus reached for your cheek again, this time successfully. His thumb hovered over you bruised lip, afraid he would inflict more harm than good.

“No need to apologise, mel. It’s okay…” Marcus hushed, still madly worried about your well-being. “Did he… did he hurt you elsewhere?”

You nodded before nuzzling your cheek against his open palm. That simple action had his heart racing and melting at the same time. He really needed to get a grip, or he’d lose his damn mind over you ― something he could not afford amidst impending war.

“My hips,” a very long pause, “my breast.”

If his blood had been boiling before, now it became sharp icicles scratching the insides of his veins. Hearing you say that actually caused him physical pain. His heart had stilled, then resumed its maddening beating, deafening him.

When he trusted his voice had returned, he cleared this throat.

“Can I check, please?” There were no veiled intentions behind his ask, just honest consternation.

You shyly nodded after a brief pause.

You followed Marcus through the corridor, his forearm softly hugging the small of your back and his broad hand splayed on your hip. The possessiveness of his embrace was weirdly soothing.

Checking over your shoulder, you ensured no one witnessed your affectionate exchange. And once you arrived and took shelter in your old bedchamber, the tension gripping your shoulders dissipated.

But the anger inside you still burnt hot. Brutus deserved what you were about to do, had Marcus not interfered. But when he did, something about the whole night nagged at you. As if there was a bigger plan at play, one you could not construe yet.

“Your lip’s bruising, mel,” his voice tinged with concern forced you out of your thoughts.

When he touched it again, you winced. Brutus the Brute had done a bit of a number on you, one you hoped to repay in the near future.

“Can I see, please?”

Well, this was not how you expected the night to go, because judging by Marcus’ rigid stance, sex was out of the cards.

With a heavy sigh, your fingers lifted up your long skirt, exposing your loincloth. Bunching up the fabric, Marcus’ hand and gaze dropped to your mid-section, fingers careful when pushing down the hem of your underwear. His caress venerating, too respectful in comparison to how he treated you yesterday morning ― the contrast abysmal.

His eyes squinted, nostrils flaring, but he quickly tamed his furious expression. Looking down to where he was focused, you understood his reaction. Where Brutus’ fingers had sunk in the flesh of your hips, he had left deep, purpling imprints ― an aquarelle with shades of red, lilac and blue.

“What a cunt,” you hissed when Marcus’ thumbs ghosted over the bruised skin on your hips. His eyes swiftly looked up at you, apologetic. “Not you, him,” you clarified.

You hoped your half joke would lighten his temper, but it didn’t. If anything, his brown orbs darkened even more, a black veil consuming his dilated pupils.

Awright, no jokes when he’s in a bad mood, you mentally noted.

“Show me, please,” he husked, eyes loitering on the neckline of your dress.

His gravelly words shouldn’t have sent a shiver down your spine, but they did. This wasn’t the fucking time to get all worked up, but the effect he had on you had seeped further into your being than what you originally thought.

I’m so fucked up.

With a trembling hand, you pushed down the frill of your neckline, your left breast spilling over. You held back a raspy breath when the cold air of the room hit your sensitive skin and felt your nipple perking up.

You didn’t dare to look down, eyes fixed on Marcus’ torn face. His lips had fallen into a flat line, jaw clenched as if chiselled by the Gods themselves. And while you were burning hot under his inquisitive stare, his eyes were… cold.

Were you broken past the point of repair? Had Iain shattered you so much, altered your perception of sex? How would you, otherwise, explain why you were roused right now when you should surely feel at least shaken up?

By Red Cap’s beard, I’m sick. There’s got to be something wrong with me.

Sick with lust, perhaps. One you needed to control, because when Marcus cupped your breast, there was nothing sexual in his hold.

Pure, utter worry painted his features, his brown irises opaque.

“I’ll kill him,” he muttered under his breath.

When his thumb stroked the skin under your aureola, your eyes finally drifted down.

Seeing the growing bruise around your nipple was a goddamn reality check, as if someone had thrown a jar of icy water on you. It looked bad, really bad. You didn’t think he had such a tight grip on your breast, but the rush of adrenaline had drowned any other feelings, letting survival guide you.

It reminded you of a time when your body was covered with marks and lesions, and you would do your utmost effort to conceal the damage Iain had caused. How you made up excuses when your siblings queried about a bruise you could not camouflage―oh, don’t worry, I’m just clumsy―or a new limp―ah, it’s fine, I fell off a horse―that had you barely walking.

How you hid under layers of textile when visiting family so your father wouldn’t feel the guilt of shipping you off like cattle to the slaughter.

“For peace you must,” had been his final words before Iain snatched you away from the comfort of your home.

Fiercely loyal, you played your part dutifully. For clan you had silently suffered for a decade, not even once questioning your father’s decision. You endured what you had to, so your people would know peace in their time.

Never once did you let the façade tumble down. Never once did you show your fear, your desperation ― your thirst for freedom.

Never once, until now.

Seeing those bruises again brought back all those feelings you had deeply buried and thought forgotten. Panic bubbling within the walls of your chest, you blinked rapidly to clear the tears that threatened to fall.

Years of abuse crawling back, clamping your throat, stalking your mind ― it all came back in a trice. Your heartrate quickened, the sensation of nasty ants creeping along your skin unbearable. Trying to calm your agitated breathing, but the memories only making it all worse.

Suddenly you felt the searing pain when Marcus brushed your skin again. Not physical pain, but the kind that had tangled itself up around your entrails and become a part of you ― strangling your resolution, your very being. Silently suffocating you for a decade.

Why was it all coming apart now, out of all the fucking moments?

“Hey, look at me, hey. It’s okay, mel,” Marcus’ mellow voice pierced through your eardrums.

Wet eyelashes fluttering, you glanced up at him. For the first time, feeling lost in a loch of torment.

Marcus’ chest squeezed at the sight in front of him.

Your face tilted up, a downcast expression distorting your beautiful features. Your mouth had parted, letting out a trembling sigh that had him shaking with you. Your eyes, always bright, sparkly green, were now of a deep shade of a darkened hue, your blown pupils swimming somewhere in there. And they became darker with every spent tear that wetted your cheeks.

He searched your face, impending dread consuming his heart as your curated front crumbled. Something primal twisted within him, a sense of protectiveness gripping him tight.

Marcus couldn’t see you like this ― with your defences down, as if you trusted him enough to hold the pieces of you together. For a fleeting instant it felt overwhelming, staggering him.

But he knew what he had to do ― what he wanted to do. Marcus let go of his gentle grasp to envelop you in his embrace, hoping to bring you some sense of tranquillity. One of his hands softly rested on the back of your head, fingers lost between your red curls.

At first, your arms were just loose by your sides, but soon enough, when the warmth of his body seeped into yours, you laced them around his waist, hugging him in return.

Time became ethereal, and Marcus wondered if what saddened you had anything to do with today, or past events. You had hinted at a life of marital negligence, and he couldn’t help but ponder the atrocities you had to survive. Society wasn’t kind to women, at least in Rome. Was your culture any different in that respect? How had your life been?

Not easy, by the looks of it. And it pained him realising that, especially after seeing the fierce side of you. The part of you that intrigued him the most, that reeled him in despite the wedding ring on his finger.

How could someone even dare break your spirit? How did Brutus even dare to breathe in your direction?

“I’ll kill him,” he reiterated in a hush, lips pressing on the crown of your hair.

“No,” you muttered, leaning back to let him dive in your determined eyes. “I think that’s what he wanted. What Cassius wanted.”

“Cassius?” he repeated after you, confused.

You paused, lips pouting, and then nodded with averted eyes.

“Aye. There’s something about him that is not quite right… Do you trust him?”

Why was everybody making him question other people’s loyalties today? He couldn’t afford the doubt, not when Agricola’s departure was just around the corner. Marcus needed as many men as possible, and he had to trust them.

“Yes, I do. Don’t worry about him, or about―” he stopped himself before Brutus’ name leaked. “Let’s not talk about them now. Come sit.”

Marcus carefully guided you to his bed as you readjusted your dress, palm pressed on the small of your back. Once you settled, he turned around in search of the concoction Atticus had prepared for his wounds ― a mix of aloe, lemon juice and onions. The balm had been cool and soothing on his skin, so he hoped it helped alleviate your pain.

He snatched it off the chimney’s sill and walked back to you, handing it over so you would apply it. The pad of your fingers touched his knuckles, the feathery caress of your gentleness. When you didn’t grab it, Marcus foraged for your eyes.

“Will you help me, Dux Meus?” you whispered, tone stripped of your usual snappiness.

“Are you sure?” he found himself saying, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

You gave him a soft nod in reply, gathering your long skirt and holding it around your mid-section.

Marcus crouched down in front of you, knees cracking with the friction of time, and dipped his index and middle fingers in the gelatinous mixture. He reached for your hip, one last undecided glance at you, and then gently rubbed the composite on your skin.

You sighed at the touch, shutting your eyes, muscles visibly relaxing now.

“Does it feel good?” he asked, eyes focused on the other side now as he administered the balm.

“Aye, it’s cold. Tapadh leibh a Seanalair” you muttered, palms resting on the mattress as you leaned back.

Marcus’ brows pinched together at the unrecognisable, softly delivered words, but it didn’t stop him from pressing soft circles on your skin, hoping the imprint of fingers would disappear.

“Is that―”

“That barbaric language, yes,” you retorted, head tipped to one side, your green orbs watching him with intent.

Inevitably, he flinched. Those exact words had almost slipped his tongue when you both were returning to the castle after the skirmish in the forest. It was hard letting go of the old ways ― Romans always considered other cultures uncivilised. Now having been in Caledonia for a few months hadn’t wholly changed his mind, but he was starting to see that you all were more similar than what Rome had her people believe.

As a General, he had been trained―indoctrinated―to not see humanity in others. That was the only barrier keeping him from losing his sanity. Because if he saw other people eye to eye, if he acknowledged their humanity, then the resolution to wield his gladius would falter in battle.

And his resolution had faltered. Once.

“May the Gods protect and guide her, for her path is to become darker today,” was one of the few exchanged words that Murdoch of Inbhir Nis had whispered to him before Marcus claimed his life.

They still haunted him to this day. The piercing shriek of the female warrior still rang in his ears like a broken bell, her scream a dark omen it was hard to forget.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” was his poor attempt at apologising. You cocked a brow, expectant of another explanation, and Marcus sighed, realising that was a lie. “Perhaps I did, and for that I’m sorry.”

“Not following Rome’s doctrine doesn’t make us savages, Marcus,” you hushed, expression softening. “Just different.”

“I know that. I just― Force of habit,” he shrugged, slightly embarrassed for being called out. “What does it mean?”

“Aye means yes. Then I simply said thank you, General,” you explained, letting your skirt go after the concoction had dried on your skin.

“Seanalair means General? It sounds so different,” he thought out loud. “I like it. Although Dux Meus sounds better to me,” he ventured with a lopsided smirk.

“Does it now?” you laughed, the first time a crack of happiness making its appearance.

For a moment you didn’t say anything else, just pushed down again the hem of your neckline for him to spread the mixture on your bruised breast. He didn’t waste time, being extremely careful around the sensitive skin of your nipple as to not cause you any more pain.

“You like it when I call you Dux Meus, don’t you?” you said under your breath, voice low and laced with need.

Marcus’ sight shot up to yours in the blink of an eye, removing his hand from your chest. The unexpected tone caught him off guard, so focused on spreading the balm he almost missed the seductive inflexion in your tone.

He couldn’t reply, breath hitching at the back of his throat while a ray of warmth travelled down his spine.

His reaction felt wrong given the circumstances that brought you to his bed. Feuding with himself, Marcus froze when your hand found his cheek, cradling it. You bowed down towards him, the tip of your nose brushing his aquiline one.

“Don’t you?” you insisted, your mouth now ghosting his, testing his wavering resolve.

“I do,” he avowed, eyes fluttering close when your lips caressed his. “Callie― I don’t think this is the time.”

Your head canted back, a flash of anger swirling in your pupils, robbing him of the warmth of your mouth.

“Don’t tell me what I want is wrong. I am not going to let that bastard and his ruffian manners take away from me what I desire. Who I desire,” you retorted back. Not appealing but demanding. “I want you, Marcus, and I want you now. Yesterday you asked me to come back, nothing has changed. Is this not why you’ve taken me to your chamber?”

The carnal delivery of your words gnawed at him, your last question triggering his heart to spike, rejecting such vile idea. He was not a man to take advantage of anyone, least a woman who had barely escaped the hands of a repulsive scoundrel.

“Of course not. I wasn’t thinking of― Deodamnatus (dammit), Callie, I just wanted to help you,” he gritted, springing tall to his feet and raking his curls back in muted desperation.

You swiftly followed, rising up from the bed with unravelling determination in your eyes.

“Then fucking help me. Help me forget his hands, replace his memory with yours,” you beseeched in a hush.

This was fucked up. You were fucked up in the head, it was the only reasonable explanation to why his caress while applying the concoction had turned you on, literally a few minutes after you were crying your sorrow in his embrace.

You knew you shouldn’t, but your body thought otherwise.

And despite the wrong timing, you were serious about not letting Brutus ruin this, ruin you. He was just another notch in the weave of your life, another man who had wronged you, and you were not about to let him become more than that.

You were done with letting men dictate how you should live your life. How you should or shouldn’t react, how you should or shouldn’t feel. You had been ashamed of your sexuality your whole life, forced to be a sack of meat for a despicable man since a very young age. Marcus had soothed that fear, letting you rediscover what you actually desired, opening your eyes to a new world of wants and necessities.

No, you were not fucked up. Men were. You were just dealing with the repercussion of their fucking actions the best way you could. And if Marcus thought otherwise, then he was just part of the problem, not the solution. No matter what he had shown you so far.

Good fucking riddance.

“Faex (shit),” he exclaimed under his breath before framing your face between his broad hands.

His mouth crashed against yours, teeth colliding. The moment his tongue sank between your lips, you moaned a sigh of relief, the heat between your legs enlivened.

The desperate strokes of his tongue had you answering with fierce ones of your own, fingers quick to find the V opening on the front of his toga so one palm slid across his ribs. His skin felt like fire under your touch, and you only hoped that heat was redirected south of his tummy.

Stalking the hairy trail guiding you down, soon enough you found his manhood. Still soft and pliable, you felt a throbbing pulse shooting up his length. With a smirk, your fist clamped around his girth and Marcus gifted you with a guttural groan that you eagerly swallowed.

Slowly you began pumping him, working him hard, while his mouth ransacked yours with tidal force. His cock palpitated and you felt high with power, knowing you literally had him on the palm of your hand. Thumb swiping his wet glans, you squeezed him hard, endowing you with yet another rumble.

“I want to taste you, Marcus,” you purred against his lips, drunk with the memory of your visit to Naimh’s cottage.

“Fuck,” he blurted out, jaw as tight as a bow. “Don’t― Fuck,” he repeated after another compression on his already stimulated cock.

His resolution finally dissolved. While still gripping his shaft so he wouldn’t go anywhere, Marcus unwrapped his toga in quick motions, the white fabric falling to the floor and leaving him completely exposed to your hungry eyes.

Marcus was the fucking reincarnation of Alator, all hard edges except for the welcomed softness of his lower tummy. Your mouth watered at the sight, proving it difficult to show self-restraint.

This time around, you were not shy to undress yourself, anxious to get started. Then you faced him, both standing bare in front of the other.

And without any other words, you dropped to your knees. Marcus closed his eyes, face tilted to the ceiling, while his erection swayed at your eye level, enticing and yearning for your touch.

The second you fisted his base and led him to the damp warmth of your mouth, Marcus hissed between gritted teeth, his eyes meeting yours instantly. Suckling on his flushed head, you maintained eye contact with him, but when the musky taste overtook your senses, your eyelashes fluttered close as you gave yourself free rein on his cock.

Your tongue twirled around his glans, the tip playing with his slit to clean off the precum beading there. Then your lips trailed down his length, pressing gentle kisses on your way south to lick the heavy balls underneath. When you were satisfied with the spit covering his sacks, you lapped his underside, feeling the throbbing, feeding vein until your lips sealed shut around him again, hollowing your cheeks to make room for his delicious girth.

You went through the motions over and over again, revelling on his taste, on his growing weight on your tongue. While saliva and precum overflew, dripping down from the corners of your mouth, you looked up again.

Marcus’ heavy-lidded eyes were transfixed on you, his hand gently resting on the back of your head to feel your bobbing. His hips slanted forward when you stopped, waiting for him with an open, welcoming mouth.

Slowly he fed you, rocking his hips softly, while you remained still below him. The tip of his mushroom head kissed the back of your throat, and you irremediably moaned around his circumference, clamping your lips on him.

When he pulled back, the pop sound forced you to open your glassy eyes. A bridge of spit connected his angry tip to your swollen lips ― a connection that reached further down to your gushing pussy.

“Stop, mel. Or I’m going to come,” he pleaded, caressing your cheek with a tenderness that contrasted heavily to what you had just done.

“And is that a bad thing?” you asked innocently, blinking rapidly as one of your fingers swirled in the air between you to catch the thread of saliva and push it into your mouth, licking your finger clean.

Then you pressed a kiss on his tip, lingering with parted, waiting lips.

Marcus pouted, his fist wrapping around his base to contain himself, but couldn’t resist the urge to stroke your lips, swiping his glans a few times on your mouth.

“No, it isn’t. You’ve sucked me so good, mel, but I want to fuck you as you deserve,” he admitted, and you definitely didn’t argue.

He extended a hand towards you, which you gladly accepted to stand up to your feet.

“And I want to fuck you so good, you’re even going to forget your name,” his promise made your slick pussy throb at the expectation.

“That’s all I’m asking,” you whispered, crawling onto the silky bed.

His gaze tracked you like a wildcat chasing after a vole, lingering on the swaying of your hips as you inched forward, settling on the centre of the mattress. You saw his eyes darkened with desire, taking in the moment ― for a tad too long, because his attention drifted to the bruising skin on your hips.

“Marcus,” you called softly, shifting his attention as you coaxed your thighs apart, your sweet dripping nook in display for him.

He stilled, transfixed on your sex as if it was the first time you bared yourself in front of him. His mouth fell flat into a fine line, then the tip of his tongue flicked out to lick his bottom lip ― a simple gesture that had your pussy leaking onto the linen.

Without a second to waste, Marcus joined you on the bed posting himself between your legs, his broad frame blanketing yours as you slowly sank into the feathery cushion underneath. Your hands reached up his ribs, tracing the battle-scarred map of his skin until your palms rested on his shoulder blades, pushing him down towards you.

This time, the kiss was gentler, paced. The languid strokes of his mouth pulled a wanton moan out of you as the weight of his throbbing cock rested heavily on your mound, his balls rubbing against your puffy fold every time he leaned forward. It was feverishly intimate ― the way his nuts would kiss your sex, your clit writhing in your seam.

The soft pressure of his lips turned into a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. His hand cradled your left breast with reverence, thumb skimming your pebbled nipple delicately and incessantly. Fingers intertwining with yours, Marcus brought your laced fists down your belly and past his erection.

Guiding your hand, Marcus pushed your own fingers past the cover of your seeping slit. A throaty sob escaped your lips, eyes shutting with pleasure, as the General showed you how to press tight circles on your thudding clit, leading you and your desperation right to the edge of a cliff. A now-known wet warmth pooled around the bottom of your spine, your inner walls squeezing nothing but the emptiness of your womb.

“Oh…” you cooed, back arching into his chest.

“You love that, don’t you?” Marcus teased you, his fingers moving yours against your slick nub. “You’re melting, mel. You’re so wet already, why?” You didn’t reply, brows pinching in concentration, mouth agape. “Did tasting me excite you, hm?” You gave him a little shy nod, too focused on the thunderous, pulsing feeling in your cunt. “You enjoyed sucking me, having your sinful mouth full of me… dribbling, just like your pussy is drooling now.”

His sweet talk had you gushing again, his thumb now drawing tight, precise circles on your clit as your middle and ring fingers framed it for him, for his delightful attention. The sensation was so intense, so delicious, it curled your toes as your limbs stiffened ― climbing up Beinn Uais (Ben Wyvis) was less strenuous than this.

Your lungs were burning, heaving now, but your pussy was catching fire.

“O mo chreach (oh, my goodness), Marcus― I’m coming, don’t stop,” you begged, lewd noises spilling from your mouth. “Please, please, don’t stop.”

“I won’t, sweetheart. Come for me,” Marcus purred, mouth ghosting yours, inhaling your needy whimpers, fingers insistent.

At his command, you did. Fuck, did you come… Your pussy clenched almost painfully whilst your overstimulated button pulsated maddingly in your seam ― your whole body quivered as you reached for the sky, stars bursting behind your eyelids.

And as you came crashing down, an intense orgasm hitting you from all flanks, Marcus led your fingers away from your twitching clit, down to your leaking hole. He rammed your two digits in your pliant, slimy opening, compelling you to fuck yourself throughout your blissed climax.

Your pussy wolfed down your own fingers down to the knuckles with ease, Marcus’ hand halting the movement of yours.

“Curl them,” he whispered, kissing your cheek. “Curl your fingers, touch that spongy spot for me.”

Still blissed out from your high, you followed his directions as your eyes fluttered open. His blown pupils had yours in a trance as he watched your expression transform when you found the precise point he had referred to.

Without breaking eye contact, you fingered yourself under his attentive guidance. Pleasuring yourself like this should feel wrong, but Marcus made it seem as natural as breathing. His constant reassurance became a mantra, humming his approval when your hips jerked up in ecstasy.

Suddenly, his middle and ring fingers joined yours in your tight pussy, the burning stretch almost unbearable. The feeling of fullness so severe, you started withdrawing your own hand.

“No, don’t pull out, mel. Follow my lead. I know it’s overwhelming, but it’ll be worth it,” Marcus breathed. “Trust me.”

You did. So far Marcus had shown you a path of pleasure you thought forbidden, and this was not the time to doubt him. With four fingers shoved in your throbbing pussy, the palm of your hand cradling the back of his between your thighs, you let him guide you ― it was overwhelming… but in the best fucking way possible.

Marcus knew perfectly what he was doing, because soon enough the pads of his fingers were persistently rubbing that tender spot on your anterior wall while his thumb smothered your clit yet again.

“Fuck, I-I’m coming again…” you hiccupped, whimpering aloud now as the coil inside you started tautening again.

“You’re pulsing so hard, do you feel that?” he gritted out, your walls squeezing all four fingers tight. “Such a sweet grip, mel.”

“Y-yes,” you whispered, squeezing your eyes shut as another tidal wave washed over you with an ungodly force.

You screamed Marcus’ name, tears spilling from the corner of your eyes due to the intensity the orgasm hit you with. After that, you felt your cunt beating for a very long minute, the contractions further apart as you relaxed under Marcus, all sweaty and satisfied.

“Do you think you can take me?”

Your heavy eyes flew open at Marcus’ strained voice. Looking down, you realised his cock was still resting on your mound. A constant trickle of precum had slid down his shaft, a milky puddle sitting on your skin.

Even if you were tired, you couldn’t deny him ― not when he had been so mindful with your needs. And, truth be told, you wanted him inside.

You didn’t reply. Instead, you curled your fingers around his girth and slid his glans along your slick slit, soaking him in your arousal. You lingered on your sensitive clit, rubbing it with his tip a few times until you led him down.

The moment his throbbing head kissed the mouth of your cunt, you knew you could come again, no matter how tired you thought you were. You led him in and let go of his thudding cock when he was halfway in.

You sighed, trying to relax your muscles, but your pussy had a mind of her own. His girth pried your pussy lips open and, once fully seated inside you, Marcus froze in place. His brows furrowing as you fully sheathed him, wrapping him in your wet, tight heat.

“I could stay here forever. You hug me so tight, take me so well now…” he hushed, leaning forward, his weight almost crushing you. “You only need a bit of encouragement, patience… And I am a very patient man. I’d be so happy with just making you cream, mel.”

He was right. Sadly, you were no stranger to sex, but this kind? This was so new to you, sometimes you doubted yourself ― what you were doing, how you were doing it. Something about Marcus made you feel insecure, because you didn’t want to disappoint him. For once in your life, you wanted the man to enjoy you, make you fall apart.

Your head spun around to the point of almost fainting when he pulled back softly and then back in. A wail broke free from your mouth as Marcus slowly but steadily rutted into you, picking up the pace with every mind-blowing thrust.

You dug your nails on his back, leaving bloody crescent moons behind. His mouth hunted down your lips, fusing into a deep kiss as he fucked you good and harsh. The snapping of his hips against yours filled the room with wet, squelching sounds ― the atmosphere brimming with the musky scent of sex and sweat.

Marcus dove in so deeply, you swore you could feel him in your throat. His sharp stabs hit all the right spots, another climax building up ― both of your sexes pulsing in unison, fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. It wasn’t long until you were creaming around his girth again, moaning like a madwoman as another climax overtook all your senses.

The General pumped his cock into you relentlessly, fucking you through yet another wave of ecstasy. He pulsed inside and you knew were close to finding his own release. When your walls relaxed around him, Marcus swiftly pulled out, a chesty groan bouncing between the walls of the room ― his flushed, reddened glans nudging your clit as his warm spent spurted out in thick, white ropes.

His cum clung to your pebbled nub, sliding down your tacky, swollen pussy lips and pooling on the sheets underneath.

Marcus kissed your forehead before falling to the other side of the bed, utterly spent. His skin glistened under the candlelight while his chest raised in quick succession.

As your heartrate calmed down, you giggled, the most content you’d ever been. Marcus looked at you, a creeping smile curling his lips, and extended an arm towards you, inviting you onto his chest.

You were quick to accept, your blushed cheek resting on his sternum. He kissed your forehead again, a slight brush that pulled a satisfied sigh out of you.

Neither of you spoke for a while. Surprisingly, the silence was comfortable, calming in a sense. You never got to enjoy the aftermath, too busy with keeping yourself together. This was different.

Marcus was different.

But he couldn’t be. He was just another man focused on the next battle ahead, planning your demise. Whether you liked it or not, the General was your enemy, a conqueror ― the incarnation of everything you hated. The man who had killed your father right in front of you, with his expression blank and devoid of emotion.

You hated him. You should hate him. Your determination shouldn’t falter just because you were fucking him. You were not doing it for your own enjoyment; you were doing it because you had a purpose. In fact, you should be repulsed every time he put his hands on you, every time he easily sank into you, blissfully stretching your inner walls.

And despite everything, despite knowing who he really was, you still… liked him. You were not disgusted by his touch, but horny for it, craving him.

You were so fucked.

Marcus stirred under you, battling his own demons.

He knew this was wrong but couldn’t stop himself. There was a gravity around you that pulled him in, no matter how hard he fought against it. Irremediably he found himself orbiting towards you, like two stars in a colliding path.

There’s no harm in having a little fun.

But was it just that? A little fun? Couldn’t be, not when his unoccupied mind kept drifting back to you. Before he would be thinking about the next step, what he needed to do to win the next battle, but now war was far from his mind.

He wished he could shut the door and keep the outside world at bay. He wished he could live in this little cocoon with you.

But duty always called.

You had fallen asleep on top of him, so carefully he moved you off his chest. His mind was so loud he couldn’t follow you into Morpheus’ realm.

Sitting back on the bed, Marcus looked over his shoulder at you, sleeping on your side. Your face was buried in the pillow underneath, your red curly hair an angry could around you. Completely naked on his bed, you were a godsend. A voluptuous figure with generous, round breasts; your moonlight skin glistening with the product of your pleasure.

His eyes travelled down your figure, arriving at the sweet gap between your thighs. His cum was still smeared all over your mound and pussy lips, dry and tacky, a reminder of the shared passion.

Damn, you looked beautiful.

With a sigh, he got up and walked towards the basin near the fireplace. The fire kept the water lukewarm, and he dampened a clean rag and wringed it out. Walking back to the bed, Marcus sat beside you. Delicately, he pushed one of your legs aside and swiped off his spent, cleaning your folds with extreme care not to wake you.

But you did. One of your eyes fluttered lazily, and looked over your shoulder to stare at him, slightly dishevelled.

“You alright?”

Marcus smiled softly, discarding the rag to the feet of the bed as he laid down behind you, head propped up on his hand.

“Yes, I was just wiping you clean,” he muttered, kissing your shoulder.

You groaned with a smirk, pushing your sweet ass against his hardening bulge. Your buttocks rubbed his growing erection as your eyes shut again.

“Another round?” you whispered and then bit your bottom lip, wriggling your hips so his manhood found refuge in the gap between your thighs.

“You nymph,” Marcus moaned. Your heat was turning wet again, soaking his now stiffened cock. “But I can’t, I―”

“I’ll be quick, I promise,” you husked sleepily, one of your hands slipping down your belly to grab his beating dick poking between your legs. “Just a quickie, Marcus, please,” you added, leading his leaky tip inside you.

There was no discussion after that. Groaning, Marcus plunged in in a smooth motion, your velvety walls parting to greet him and hug him tight. His arm draped around your waist to hold you in place and began fucking into you from behind. You hummed your approval, Marcus paying worshipping attention to your neck, kissing and nipping at it.

When you squirmed and whimpered, your pussy clamped down around him with force, announcing your orgasm. Still rutting into you, the hand holding you down trailed down your belly to gently pet your clit.

Your moans grew louder and needier, your ass pushing back into him, meeting every thrust. You came sobbing his name, strongly pulsing around him, wetting his cock and balls with your warm cream. Mustering all the strength he could, Marcus pulled out, his dick resting between your pussy lips.

You pressed your thighs together to squeeze his throbbing manhood and cradled his glans as he pumped himself between your inner thighs, his tip kissing your clit every time he pushed in. A minute later, Marcus came undone too, his warm spent landing on your cupped palm around his mushroom head.

Marcus remained still behind you as his cock softened and both of your breathings calmed down. Your eyes were still closed, but a smug smile curled your lips.

“See? I was quick,” you retorted.

“Always true to your word,” he joked, pulling back to grab the forgotten rag. He began rubbing your skin again and you parted your legs to have him wipe you clean. “But I really need to go.”

“So soon? Where are you going?” you pouted, craning your neck to glance up at him.

“It’s almost dawn. I…” Marcus fell silent, pondering his options.

He could tell you where he was going as a test to your loyalty. Prove Maximus wrong. He didn’t know why but confiding in you felt natural.

Marcus really wanted to trust you. If nothing went wrong, then he would know he had nothing to worry about.

“I’m going to the Roman fort in Cawdor with Maximus. We need to discuss some news we’ve just received,” he explained, carefully studying your expression.

“Oh, okay,” you muttered, completely unbothered by the information he had just shared with you, as if he had just told you that today was going to rain. “I’ll leave then.”

“You can stay and sleep in, no one will bother you here, mel,” he kissed your shoulder, heart lighter, before he stood up and started putting on his black armour.

You rolled around to lay on your other side, watching him dress with your hands tucked under your face.

“Need a hand with that?”

“No, I’m okay, thanks,” years of practice made it easy. He tied the belt around his waist and sheathed the gladius, then walked towards the bed to bend down and kiss you goodbye. “There’s some more of the concoction there. Please use it.”

You nodded your agreement, still half asleep, and Marcus stepped out.

The moment the door had closed behind Marcus, you had sprung to your feet, dressing yourself in a frenzy. But knowing you couldn’t just follow him, you had paced around the room for half an hour.

You had never run faster in your entire life. Once in the stables, you had fought with Kelpie to saddle her and trotted to Bonnie’s crannog. There you had encountered Torcall, who grilled you with questions.

“Where have you been? You’ve been gone the whole night! I was worried sick! What the hell are you up to?! Don’t tell me you’ve been with him, please.”

Needless to say, you didn’t answer any of it. You were a grown ass woman and didn’t need a nanny. Plus, it was none of his fucking business.

You had not intended on falling asleep on Marcus’ bed, but you had felt so at ease, you hadn’t fought your heavy lids.

You just told Torcall that you had gotten your hands on some valuable information and needed to go again. You knew that Marcus was testing you, if you could be trusted. If you told your father’s men about this, they would take action, outing you in the process.

No, you had to go alone. If you passed his test, then you were sure he would share even more in the future, just what you wanted.

Daimh and Iona were at the dining table, breaking their fast. You had kissed each of them before vanishing again.

It didn’t take you long to track down the prints of hoofs on the muddy eastbound path. Soon you caught up with Marcus and some of his men. Maximus, Cassius and Valerius accompanied him, as well as three other legionnaires you did not recognise.

You kept your distance from them and traversed through the forest instead of the path to avoid being seen. After three long hours, you finally arrived at your destination.

You were not prepared to see all those troops at Cawdor. There were hundreds of soldiers, the fort brimming with life. At the same time Marcus and his retinue arrived, a legion did too.

Why were there so many men here? Something was going on, something that could change the course of history. Was this just a repositioning exercise?

There were no women in sight, so you couldn’t just put a cloak on and blend in as you had intended. So you remained in the shadowy edge of the forest, hidden behind a tree.

Suddenly Marcus halted and veered his horse around. Someone from the newly arrived legion stepped out on a white horse.

“Governor Agricola,” you heard Marcus say in a greeting.

“General Acacius,” the man said back.

So, this was Agricola, the man who terrorised Caledonia. You wanted to hate Marcus, but your easy hate for Agricola burnt hot. He was the one responsible for the defeat of your people, the one who had taken prisoners in boats and parade them around the coast to show others what would become of them if they rose up in arms.

“We’ve heard the news of your premature departure, Governor. We wish to discuss the defence of Caledonia in your absence,” Marcus spoke clearly.

“Not Caledonia. Britannia, Acacius. That’s its new name. Use it,” Agricola’s arrogance seeped through his stupid smile.

Britannia? The bastards had already renamed your land? How fucking dared they?

But this was huge. It seemed like Agricola was leaving, possibly taking many of his men with him. If that was the case, the number of Romans in Caledonia would drastically reduce, giving you a fighting chance.

The snap of a branch behind you startled you, quickly turning on your heels. The forest was dark, so you squinted your eyes while scanning the area.

Perhaps it had just been an animal, so you redirected your attention back to the men.

To your misfortune, they were walking through the portcullis and a second after you lost sight of them.

“Fuck,” you whispered.

You ran back to Kelpie, needing to make the way back home fast.

Finally, some good fucking news.

@orcasoul @immyowndefender @sjc7542 @fairiebabey

@thepalaceofmelanie @harriedandharassed @whoaitspascal87

@verybigvag @jessthebaker @ivoryandflame @missadangel

@pepperstories @mewantpeepaw @inept-the-magnificent

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y0ur-lovrr · 3 days ago

Text

—Sleep patterns.

Based off of this song-

A/n; hiii, this was my first attempt at writing some type of angst, so if it’s bad i apologize lol, I haven’t really wrote angst before so I thought I’d try it, spoilers of season two of aib ahead!!

…maybe I will do a part 2 to this 🤷‍♀️

Pairing; everyone x reader (but you can pair yourself with whoever)

—kuina, Anne, And Usagi looked at you as you slumped at the wall, your hands holding onto your abdomen where the king of has stabbed you multiple times-blood spilling out of you like a broken faucet.

“Thank you for playing with me…I gave it my all.” You mutter with a sigh and a faint smile, having already accepted your fate that you had lost at this game, that you had lost at beating the borderlands, but you didn’t seem afraid, even as your eyes closed. It was unnerving seeing you accept fate so easily, as if you gave up on fighting even though you gave the king of spades your all.

They were all beat up to, Anne barely able to sit herself up from the floor, Kuina stabbed multiple times in her side, Usagi stabbed in her knees. But in that moment, you looked worse, and they couldn’t comprehend it, all frozen as they stared at you. You had been there since the beginning, even though you refused to accept the alliance at first, they thought of you as family.

Kuina screeches your name as he knees buckle beneath her, her hands immediately latching onto you and shaking you by your shoulders, attempting to wake you back up-as if you were just taking a nap.

But you didn’t.

You didn’t move, getting shaken with no resistance, even as her tears dripped down her cheeks, even as her bloody hands grip your shoulders a bit too tight.

“Why aren’t they moving?! Why won’t they wake up?!” She asked in a frantic yet desperate tone, ignoring her own pain as she try’s to wake you up, knowing it won’t work, but she couldn’t comprehend that you weren’t going to wake up.

Footsteps came back, the recognizable pants of Arisu sounding out as he makes his way over, just got done blowing up the king of spades. But he stops as he sees the scene in front of him.

Usagi was crying as she leaned back against a wall, trying to stop the bleeding on her legs, Anne laying on the floor with ragged breaths, and you. Slumped against the wall, not moving or barely breathing with Kuina frantically shaking your shoulders, trying to not start sobbing.

It made him feel sick, his breath catching in his throat. Guilt forms in his stomach, his head already starting to spin, maybe if he hadn’t taken so long to kill the king of spades with Aguni, maybe-just maybe, he could’ve saved you. But maybe he could-maybe if he beat the final game quick enough! That would work, right? It had to of, if they beat the final game this would all stop, right?—

“Arisu…” Usagi’s voice muttered, her voice shaky and pained, her eyes looking towards him, watching his eyes move over to hers, his eyes softening at her condition. The tears in his eyes makes her heart clench, he had no idea how all of this happened-the plan to bomb the king was supposed to work, not have it end up like this. It’s a blood bath.

Her eyes spoke a thousand words to him, and he reached out and grabbed her arm, putting it over his shoulder, making her use him as a crutch, carrying her weight easily.

“M-Maybe if we finish the last game it would save them-save them and Chishiya, Anne-“ he sputters out, words trembling over another as his mind worked quickly, and Usagi couldn’t bring herself to argue, knowing that it might work..but it was very thin chance. But knowing Arisu, he wouldn’t give up, he already lost so many-losing you and Anne would just break him.

He doesn’t know it, but hours from now, his found family will be torn apart. And he will beat the games with Usagi and wake up in the hospital. Having no memory of what happened, and you won’t talk him or the others again, not even remembering that you existed.

He will forget the time when you both sat down on the hood of an abandoned car as the sun set down, and how he asked you what you wanted in life. And all you said was ‘I don’t know’, he will forget how that stuck with him.

Anne and Kuina won’t remember how you would ride in the car at night to games, blasting the music on full blast and letting them sing to some song you never heard of before.

Usagi would forget how you admitted you afraid that one time you both were hunting for food, how you admitted that you were afraid of not being good enough, and how you afraid of dying without a fight.

Usagi and Arisu begin to make their way to the Queen of Hearts game, trying to go as fast as they could, leaving Kuina and Anne with you.

Kuina had given up on shaking you and trying to wake you up, instead laying down on the ground, staring up the sky as her gaze often moves towards you and to Anne, and the sight makes her want to cry even more. You promised her, promised her that you would escape the games with her, and that you would still be friends in the other world.

But now you can’t finish that promise, and a part of her wants to be mad at you for that. But she can’t. She could never bring herself to be mad at you. She moves one of her hands and shakily grabs onto one of yours, the blood making it slippery, as her other hand reaches towards Anne’s, silently praying that they finish the game fast.

It’s quiet despite her ragged breaths and the light breathing of Anne, it’s quiet without your constant sarcastic comments and little quips, and she finds herself already missing it, missing you.

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hearts4johnwick · 3 days ago

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SUMMARY. 𝜗𝜚 your husband has been missing for almost two months now, yearning for him is making you relive some of your best memories.

CW. 𝜗𝜚 mentions of od’ing, fluff & angst (whose page are you in??? ofc it’s angst 👅) bold = flashbacks

A/N. 𝜗𝜚 umm i know absolutely nothing!!!about south korea or their schools, so this is purely based off of american schools bc my latina ass is not cultured on this, if yall wanna correct me or help me in some stuff, pls do! just know i’m writing this for fun tho <3

the voice of your teacher announcing a new student catches your attention, a boy with slightly longer hair stands beside her, holding onto his backpack. “this is kang dae-ho, he is transferring from seoul, and as your new classmate, you shall treat him with respect.” your eyes analyze dae-ho, he’s cute, you think. you glance over to your friend and she raises her eyebrow in a flirty manner, you smile.

“find a seat, dear.” there were plenty of seats available, but the seat beside you was the one he was eyeing the most, and you did not mind at all if he sat next to you.

the two of you make eye contact and you watch his eyebrows raise slightly, he quickly makes his way to the seat beside you. you give him a soft smile and he returns it, a soft hint of redness grows on his face.

“of course.” your friend playfully rolls her eyes and you chuckle before the teacher begins the class.

once the class finished, you head to your lockers to put away your books, in the distance you see dae-ho and your friend speaks. “you should go and talk to him, maybe we can go to the bakery after school.” you look at her and nod.

“that’s a good idea.” you walk away from your locker, your hand holding your other over your legs as you make your way toward him. dae-ho turns and his heart begins to race as if your beauty leaves him speechless, or you coming up to him caught him off guard. “dae-ho, was it?” he nods. “nice to meet you, I’m y/n.”

he smiles widely. “cute name for a cute girl.” you smile, his confidence taking you aback for a slight moment.

“thank you.” you feel your face heat up, but you brush it off. “my friend and i were wondering if you’d like to join us at the bakery right across the street after school? we usually go there for some lunch, since the lunch here is not too good.” you make a disgusted noise and scrunch your nose, he laughs and you smile.

“I’d like that,” he says and you smile.

“great. see you there. what’s your next class?” you ask him, and he tells you that it’s math, you exclaim when you look at his schedule and realize you have every single class together.

after classes finish, the three of you do as you agreed and head to the bakery. you get to know a lot about dae-ho, and you find out you have much more in common than you ever thought. he’s energetic and kind, and you admire that.

“so, do you have any plans after graduation?” you ask him, breaking the silence your friend left you both in after her mother came to pick her up.

he hums, taking his time thinking what to say. “joining the marines is a good idea.” you raise an eyebrow. “but, apart from that—i’d love to marry a pretty girl, maybe start a family with her, maybe move back to the city, or move to costa rica, i’ve seen pictures and i think it’s the most beautiful place i’ve ever seen.” you can’t help but smile at his plans, they’re quite nice. “and you?” he asks you your question.

“i want to become a veterinarian. i love animals so much, i’ve rescued some! dogs and cats!”

“what do you do after? do you keep them?” he questions.

“oh no no! i’m allergic to cats, i just send them to a shelter or put them up for adoption. when animals stay in shelters too long they sometimes kill them, and i hate that. i wish i could keep every animal i rescue, but ive only kept two dogs, two german shepherds.”

dae-ho laughs. “remind me not to mess with you, then.” you laugh at his joke.

“yeah, don’t.” you suck on your bottom lip and look at him. “but, apart from becoming a veterinarian, I’d also like to marry a handsome guy, and maybe start a family, although, I’m alright with dogs—how many kids do you want?”

“i want 4.” your breath hitches, and you grimace, you’re acting as if you’re gonna be the mother, but, you couldn’t help it.

“your poor wife.” you place your lips into a thin line. you two share a short laugh and continue to get to know each other.

you and dae-ho grew fond of each other in only 3 months, he was even walking you to your house, no matter the fact that his house was nearly 20 minutes from yours.

one night, you and dae-ho stand in your front steps, before you say goodbye, he grabs your hand and caresses it softly. “y/n.” he begins, he has all of your attention. “why don’t we… take a break from the bakery and go to an actual restaurant…maybe tomorrow?” he pauses between his words, thinking thoroughly about what he’s saying. when he sees your expression soften, he knows it’s going great.

“i’d love to.” you smile widely and place a hand on his cheek gently. the two of you share a sweet moment, he said he’ll text you the details, and you dismiss him with a kiss on the cheek and the blood rushing to his cheek makes your heart flutter.

one date led to another, and then another, after that, another one, until it became a weekly thing. when the two of you graduated, he quickly went off to the marines, and you were proud of him for that, he could do what he wished for, but you were terrified at the same time, terrified that one day he might not come home, and the thought of that destroyed you.

him coming back home permanently meant everything to you, you thought that maybe you could start a family now, you were at a fine age, you were married and financially stable, your job was paying you very well, and so was, dae-ho’s, but now that he’s back—forever now, that might change—and, it did.

you turn sideways on your bed, your hand brushes the cold spot next to you, it’s empty, you don’t like that feeling at all, it makes you feel empty. you remember the moments when dae-ho kept you warm, the times after intimate moments when you would just lay in his chest, staring into his eyes, or simply when you would fall asleep in each other’s arms.

you check the time, and it’s 2:34 am, you sigh and stare at your ceiling, and you start to feel tears pooling in your eyes. you stand from your bed and head over to the closet. there, you take one of dae-ho’s jackets and hug it, as if he was wearing it as if you were hugging him. his scent made your heart ache, this was the closest you’d been to him in almost two months.

you sob your heart out as you slide down the wall, softly murmuring his name like a prayer, hoping he’ll hear you.

your finger softly curls dae-ho’s hair, and the two of you admire each other in the spotlight, his hand on your hip and yours on his shoulder, sharing the prom king and queen dance.

“prom king, huh?” you raise an eyebrow.

“no thanks to you, prom queen.” he chuckles and you roll your eyes.

“what’s a king without his queen?” dae-ho raises his eyebrows and nods. “this is so embarrassing, i hope they’re not looking—or looking at you.” you chuckle.

“no, trust me. they’re looking at you.” your eyes light up, and your face gets hot, but you don’t know if it’s because of embarrassment or his compliment. “you look unbelievable tonight, y/n. i can’t imagine you on our wedding day.” he says, your mouth opens and your heart flutters, god, you cannot wait to marry him, he’s all you’ve ever wished for, you don’t care that he’s your first love, you think he’s the love of your life—you know he is, and that’s what matters, not what people think.

“i love you.” your confession catches him off guard, he’s said it before, but you never said it back, only ‘me too’ but the words ‘I love you’ have never come out of your mouth, and even though you’ve been wanting to say it ever since the moment you laid eyes on him, something has been stopping you, but you knew it was about time.

“i love you more,” he says back, and you smile widely. you embrace each other, but continue your dance until it concludes.

shortly after graduation, the two of you decided that after dae-ho serves his time in the marines, you’d get married—and so you did. your wedding was beautiful, it was intimate, with only two or three family members from dae-ho’s side, for obvious reasons, and almost your whole family tree.

your family loved dae-ho as if he was their own, and that made you feel very grateful, dae-ho had a rough childhood, and seeing him get the love he never had growing up was better than anything you could ever ask for.

the day of your marriage was truly the happiest day you’ve ever been, and let’s not even talk about the night. from then on, you appreciated every single moment with dae-ho, you always have, but you’re treasuring them even more now. the two of you began to travel, you started with costa rica, of course, and so on—you went to some places such as japan, tennessee, bali, dominican republic, and all of europe, you’d hope that between this year and next, you can finish traveling the caribbean because dae-ho loves the caribbean and the beaches.

you had planned for the bahamas on your next trip, but this is around the time when your husband was struggling, and when he turned up missing.

dae-ho has been missing for almost two months, he just vanished into thin air, he didn’t leave you a note, or a text message, he just… left. and you missed him dearly, you thought these months as an eternity, and you couldn’t take it anymore.

the orange bottle of full pills was tempting you—you wanted to end this pain, you wanted to end it now. he could end it, if he would just show up on the doorstep, just him, you don’t even want flowers or a gift, you just need him, or the other reason to end it is to just not keep living.

why would you need to keep living? the reason you are hasn’t been here with you these days—you have no reason to keep living, so why not just finish it?

your brother found you, he took you in his arms, sobbing and calling out your name. the bright hospital light was bothering you, your vision was blurry and your heartbeat was steady, slower than usual, but it was still beating, and that was the important thing.

the cold, dry air of the hospital made you feel sicker as if you were actually dead. you had your eyes closed when you felt a familiar, warm touch in your hand. you try your best to open your eyes, but your vision is still blurry.

“dae-ho?” you croak, a drop of wetness rolling down your cheek in pain. you hear no answer, so you don’t know if you’re hallucinating, or dreaming, but you cry.

you had thought that maybe—maybe he’d been back, oh, god you wish he’d been back, just so that you could spend the time you have left with him—but one thing is for sure, and it’s that you’ll soon be seeing him, whether that would be in the flesh, or the after life, is still to be decided.

❛ i wish i could live without you

but you’re a part of me. ❜

#gigi writes squid game ◡̈#kang dae ho x reader #kang dae ho x you #kang dae ho x y/n #player 388 #kang dae ho #player 388 x reader #player 388 x you #player 388 x y/n #kang ha neul #kang ha neul x reader #kang ha neul x you #kang ha neul x y/n #squid game #squid game fanfic

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asterafroditis · 18 hours ago

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𐔌 . ⋮ wake up, sleepyhead.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆Silver x gn! reader

𓏵 704 words

ᝰ.ᐟ 3rd Person POV, no pronouns used, established relationship with reader, angst, hurt/comfort

sorry if Silver is ooc, I'm not too knowledgeable on his personality (◞ ‸ ◟ㆀ) feel free to like, reblog, or leave a comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

Silver loves you with all his heart, but no matter how much he tries to tell himself that, the guilt never truly goes away. He doesn’t doubt your love or patience— if anything, he feels like he doesn’t deserve them. How could he, when every moment spent with you feels like a moment stolen by his uncontrollable slumber?

It wasn’t as if you didn’t know. From the very beginning, you’d been well aware of the spell placed on him as a child. You’d told him countless times that it didn’t bother you, that you understood this was something he couldn’t control. But Silver couldn’t stop the self-reproach that grew every time he awoke to find your face patiently waiting for him.

He hated the way it always played out: an afternoon spent together under the dappled sunlight of a quiet forest, with you happily chatting away about something or other. Then, without warning, his eyelids would begin to droop, his head would grow heavy, and no amount of willpower could stop him from succumbing to the pull of sleep.

When he awoke, there you were, still by his side, smiling softly as though nothing had happened. But Silver could see the faint concern lingering in your eyes, could feel the way your hands hesitated for just a second longer before reaching for his. And that was what crushed him most of all—that you cared so much, even when he felt he didn’t deserve it.

“Why don’t you leave me?” he asked one day, the words slipping out before he could stop them. His voice was quiet, trembling with the weight of everything he’d kept inside. “You don’t have to waste your time with someone like me. You could be with someone who could give you all the time in the world... someone who wouldn’t fall asleep in the middle of your sentences.”

Your eyes widened, shock flashing across your face before quickly softening. “Silver, what are you talking about?” you murmured, stepping closer to him.

He shook his head, unable to meet your gaze. “I... I don’t want to be a burden to you. You deserve someone who can give you their full attention, not someone who spends half of your time together unconscious. I feel like I’m stealing from you.”

“Silver,” you whispered, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “You’re not stealing anything from me.”

“But I am!” he burst out, his voice cracking under the weight of his guilt. “Every time I fall asleep, I take away time we could have spent together. I feel so selfish for holding you back like this... and I can’t even stop it. I can’t change it.”

You waited for a moment, letting his words settle before speaking again. “You’re right,” you said softly, surprising him. “You can’t change it. And that’s okay. I don’t need you to change anything, Silver.”

He looked at you then, eyes wide and searching. “But why?”

“Because I love you,” you said simply. “And being with you means accepting every part of you, even the parts you might not like about yourself. When you fall asleep around me, it’s not a waste of time. It’s a reminder that you feel safe enough to let your guard down. That you trust me enough to be vulnerable.”

Silver’s breath hitched, his heart clenching painfully at your words. He wanted to believe you, wanted to let go of the guilt that weighed him down. But it was so hard.

You reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “You’ve spent your whole life protecting others, haven’t you? Always on guard, always thinking about everyone else. But with me... you don’t have to do that. You can rest, Silver. I don’t mind. In fact, I love that you trust me enough to do that.”

For a long moment, Silver couldn’t find the words to respond. His chest felt tight, a strange mix of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. Slowly, he lowered his head, letting his silver hair fall into his eyes as he whispered, “Thank you.”

And for the first time, he allowed himself to believe, just a little, that maybe he wasn’t stealing your time. Maybe, just maybe, you were giving it willingly.

#۶ৎ qka daydreams!#twst #disney twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x you #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst silver #twst silver x reader #silver vanrouge #twst silver x you #light angst #hurt/comfort #silver vanrouge x reader

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breakyourrxles · 3 days ago

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❥between two breaths (m) | 𝟙𝟛

𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐩 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲

↳ After two steps forward in the ways of healing conversations, a massive step backwards abruptly finds you in the form of a new, breaking story that you never could have seen coming.

kim sunwoo x fem!reader (side lee juyeon x reader) — idol!sunwoo, fan/trainee!reader. forced proximity, forbidden love, friends to lovers, angst, slow burn, idolverse-typical themes regarding; dating, image, public perception, etc. happy ending, plot-heavy!! reader thinks she's nonchalant about it but she rly isn't. smut. [6,4k wc ongoing] cws: heavy themes of wanting-but-can't-having, mild jealousy, explicit sexual content, a little alcohol consumption, dancing on the edge of career suicide, poor decision making because of The Wanting.

❥ masterlist | ao3

Swallowing hard, you glance at Miyoung again—only briefly—and in your best effort to remain composed you say, "You think they're right? What they're saying online?"

In the week following your blowout with Sunwoo, communication with him has grinded to a complete halt.

Normally, you might chalk this up to the fact that both of you are too busy to properly keep up with one another. There is a comeback looming in the not so distant future for you and a huge amount of prep that is meant to be done for it before that day comes. You're tired, your body is sore, meals and sleep get skipped on account of all of the extra time you opt to carve out in favor of making sure you can give this everything you're capable of. More than that, however, is that staying busy keeps your mind clear; no thoughts of him, less worries about the scene that your bandmates had the misfortune of being audience to.

Sunwoo is in and out of the country now even more than before and, for once, you're thankful for that fact. Running into him in the halls presents nothing that you're interested in engaging with right now, be it having to pretend that no contention exists, or even worse than that; having to face the truth of the matter all over again.

A conversation with the girls is not something that you have the same luxury of avoiding forever.

Nothing has been said to you in regards to it, and you suppose that you are thankful for the firm hand that Sunwoo had had that day. Still, the air is thick with tension and curious, wandering eyes every time you find yourself in the same room as the girls who had the misfortune of stumbling upon an inkling of your dirty little secret. Worst of all: you share a dorm with Miyoung and Kaia, and the efforts made to not encounter one another in the common areas outside of work-related coming and going has quickly begun to drive you mad.

This is not the kind of relationship you wish to cultivate with your members. These girls are your friends, your colleagues, and at some point throughout all of this; you want them to be your family.

The evenings have begun to run late whether it is on account of work, or not. Even when you find yourself at the dorm before the early hours of the morning, that time is considered precious and you are unwilling to lose any more of it through sleep. Social media scrolling, long showers and a simple sandwich in the kitchen are things that you are not often afforded with a poorly timed comeback looming so harrowingly in the distance. Tonight is no different, and though the discomfort your body carries is difficult to ignore, it's better than resigning yourself to a bed and the fast coming of the next day.

Much of the food inside of the refrigerator has expired now. Annoying, you think to yourself, and it's the most you can muster up given the state of everything else happening around you. There's bread that only expires today—probably still good—and some left over meat that is creeping up on much of the same fate, so you pull them both and begin fashioning yourself a late night snack.

Perhaps it's how muddled your brain is, that it takes you so long to realize that you are no longer left alone to this task.

Your attention darts upwards from the counter, and though the overhead light for the kitchen has remained off, the stove lamp is lit and gives ample illumination to see who it is that stands before you. Miyoung lingers just outside of the kitchen opening with her messy black bob and a t-shirt that looks like it's been with her for a lifetime, but more than that is the look of gentle concern that sits upon her features as her eyes settle on you.

Snapping back to your task, you can't ignore the feeling of her eyes on your skin and the way that it makes you feel. She knows far too much now, has seen much more than she was ever meant to, and though you admit that you do not feel as though there is judgment there, what will not leave you is the feeling of transparency. A privacy has been lost—something you have fought so hard to maintain despite all odds being against it—and in the end, they won.

"I'll be out of here soon," you say. The words are mumbled and so nearly inaudible that you can't be sure she has even heard them, but in the end, she does reply.

"Don't. We should talk."

Being an idol, as you have learned, is spending your days navigating situations and conversations that you do not wish to; and with a smile on your face, at that. People endlessly prying and looking and picking apart the bits of you that they are able to see in an effort to find the things that they are not granted access to, all for the luxury of being able to perform on a stage and living a life that you have always dreamed of. Having been thrust into this has been a quick lesson on the trials and tribulations of what it takes to make it, and the sacrifices one must make in order to have a shot at doing so.

An idol's best chance at making it through is to minimize problems that may disrupt that journey, and conversations such as this one are a direct result of having failed in doing so.

Miyoung steps inside of the enclosed space and though you aren't giving her your full attention, you do notice her glance back towards the other bedroom doors to ensure that what is about to take place is only for the two of you. Your heart swells at the observation, at the fact that she is still taking that much into account when navigating the throes of this tiring mess you have created amongst them.

She takes her place beside you and bends to press her elbows into the countertop—face cradled within her palms—and does not look at you when speaking as if already having anticipated your wish to not be perceived.

"Is it about the rumors?" she asks, voice quiet and light. "Figure it must be, to some degree."

It is in this moment that you realize that you cannot tell the truth, but also, you can no longer lie.

Hands once busy with something come to a halt, and staring at the wall of pots and pans that hang in front of you, you take into your lungs a slow, deep breath in preparation for what is about to become of this interaction.

"It's kind of funny that no matter how in control of a situation you try to be, there's always something that slips through the cracks, huh?" You turn to look at her with a small smile, and Miyoung's eyes meet yours. "I thought that with joining this company and being in such close proximity to him all the time that nothing would really change, because we were already friends before, we had already been spending time together before, and nothing was ever different then. I figured it would always just be more of the same, that I would always look at him the same way no matter what. I guess I was wrong."

"You caught feelings?"

Huffing out a laugh, you can't help but dwell in the absurdity of the fact. You say, "It's so stupid. Maybe there's a part of me that was always going to be the fawning fangirl, never really able to see our relationship for what it really was."

"It's not really that unusual," Miyoung says, a light hand finding your arm in a comforting gesture. "If I had to guess, there's a whole lot of girls who deep down want to have that fairytale, idol-story romance, and it sounds so exciting, right? Secret meetings and hushed words, stealing glances and touches even when you shouldn't. Everybody likes the idea of it, but it's probably not all that great when you're actually wrapped up in it, so, try to think of it like that. It's for the best, really. You can have hurt feelings about what could have been and what he might be doing elsewhere but it's a load of stress off your back, that's for sure."

Shifting uncomfortably where you stand, the fact that Miyoung seems especially convinced of there being legitimacy to the online rumor mill gives you pause, and quickly you begin to draft up a convincing enough response that allows you to interrogate her assumption without coming off as someone fishing much too hard for implicating information.

"So…" The word trails off, you don't really know how you want to engage in this, if you're being completely truthful with yourself. Swallowing hard, you glance at Miyoung again—only briefly—and in your best effort to remain composed you say, "You think they're right? What they're saying online?"

Shrugging abruptly and without so much as a second thought about it, Miyoung says, "Oh, I don't know. I figure if anyone between the two of us knows that, it'd be you, especially given the scene on the elevator." As if realizing her potential misstep, Miyoung's face twists into something awkward and unbecoming and she stammers out the following, "Or I guess you two were just talking about the other thing… The thing just between you… Not someone else…" She rolls her eyes—at and because of herself—and then says, "Sorry, I didn't mean to assume. I really gotta stop trying to have serious, heart-felt talks with people, I'm not good at this at all."

"It's fine," you say, leaning over to nudge into her gently with your shoulder, "It's not a big deal, seriously. I know how it looked in there but that was just a single, bad snapshot of a bigger conversation, and at the end of the day, we're going to be fine."

"Even if he's dating someone else?"

The words spark something inside of you that truthfully, you hadn't ever really considered. Sunwoo has always been unabashedly and completely enthralled by you, and so the consideration that there may ever be another woman in the picture—now, or in the future—isn't one that has ever truly crossed your mind. You give it space in your mind to grow and fester just for a moment, before quickly shutting it down and swiftly working to rid yourself of the nasty growth bubbling up beneath your skin.

An asinine thought, you remind yourself, because the woman in reference is me.

"Yeah," you finally manage out with a smile, "even if it's someone else."

The whole idea of it is fairly ill-advised, and though you have the foresight to acknowledge that fact, it does not stop you from your attempt to act upon it.

Perhaps the easiest route would be to carve out the minimal amount of free time afforded to you amongst comeback preparations and simply disappear elsewhere without so much as a word to anyone. You are no stranger to such acts, but maybe the slight feeling of having all eyes on you brings you to a different point of action.

Best to err on the side of caution for now. To follow the rules and make it seem as though you have nothing to hide and are doing your best to play by the book. It isn't completely untrue, though it is far from wholly true, as well.

Thus, when your old friend from your fandom days messages you and asks you to make a visit, the first person you send off a text to about it is your manager.

He is far from pleased by the prospect of it all, as you had anticipated, but you can tell by the response he gives that he isn't completely unwilling to facilitate this. You wonder if he takes some amount of pity on you and the minute ways in which you have struggled to acclimate to your new life, considers that in spite of the fact that you being seen meeting with someone like this will do little to make permanent your new, squeaky-clean brand, yet makes the wrong choice for the company in favor of you.

During the first week of October and early on a Wednesday morning, you receive a message to your phone while you are preparing yourself for the slog of the intended day. With a toothbrush shoved into your mouth and your hair tied back sloppily, you glance at the screen without much anticipation towards anything. However, your heart nearly leaps out of your chest once you read the words that are left there waiting for you.

Manager [07:12]: If you still wish to go to Pyeongchang-dong then it must be today. This is the only time I can fit it into the schedule without many questions. I will drive you there myself and we will leave at 8. Let me know soon.

The drive is about two hours long, and though it is far from short, you enjoy the serenity that looking out of the vehicle window gives you.

Music gently plays from the stereo but you do not pay it much mind. Instead, your attention is glued to the cars on the road beside you, as well as the trees and buildings that swiftly pass you by. It's been such a long time since you have been able to enjoy the simplicity of something as leisurely as a road trip, and if you had been asked prior to debut if it would be something that you might come to miss, you assuredly would have said no.

You are faced with that fact now. Faced with the fact that so many things have changed and with such rapid succession that you've barely had the ability to catalogue them and fit them into the proper crevices of your memory that they belong. Road trips, visiting friends, seeing your family… All things once taken for granted that now, barely exist as a part of your life in any facet, at all.

The acknowledgement of this fact has you breathing out a heavy sigh, and you are thus reminded of the fact that despite your privacy amongst the road, no chances can be taken: You are still fitted in a mask covering half of your face, a sweatshirt with the hood pulled up in an effort to obscure the rest, and otherwise unimpressive clothing as to not draw attention to yourself.

Sometimes it all feels so stupid.

When the current song on the radio comes to an end, you feel something in the atmosphere of the vehicle shift. Your attention draws to your manager who then slowly inhales a breath and with eyes still glued to the road he says, "I won't hang around, but you won't be afforded much time, either. A couple of hours, at most. I'll message you when it's time to go back." He glances towards you for just a second, as if to drive the point of his saying this home and then continues with, "Don't make me regret having done this."

With your head slowly falling to the side and against the car door window, you say, "I won't, I just… need to get away from it all. Even for a second."

"I know. The first few years are the hardest part, I've been told."

Just hearing that makes your throat feel dry, and you can't help but contemplate if you have gotten in way over your head.

The thought of being an idol always felt so luxurious and hopeful to you, though you had never been the sort of dreamy-eyed optimistic that sat blind to the realities that would come along with it. You followed the idol scene from the outside but your proximity to it—even before a friendship with Sunwoo had developed—allowed you to easily see it for precisely what it can be; brutal, devastating, and utterly cannibalistic.

Yet the materiality of it is crushing you with every passing day.

"Anyway," he eventually says, clearly sensing the mounting discomfort between you, "Who is your friend?"

You turn slightly to look at him. "I already told you that. You're no slack at your job, you wouldn't be shipping me off two hours away for me to meet someone without having already checked them out."

A chuckle slips through his lips after the evidence of having been caught.

"Of course I've done my due diligence, but I don't know everything." He glances at you again then says, "I'm not the police force, you know."

But it sure feels that way sometimes, you think.

Turning to face towards the disappearing blur of trees again, you say, "Rimi is an old friend from my days as a fan. She's Japanese, but has lived in South Korea for a long time now. Her parents are exceptionally wealthy tech industry folks, this is only one of many homes they own, to my understanding."

"In South Korea?"

You shrug. "In the world." Sighing, you continue staring as if hoping to find a different life. The one you wish you had. "She runs a popular fansite—as they often are wealthy—pretty girl who was always a treat to be around. I'm really glad I get to see her again."

"Fansite?" he says with a quizzical upturn to his tone, "Anyone I've heard of?"

Unable to fight the smile that begins to tug at your lips, you turn to look towards him once again and say, "Yeah, Hyunjae."

Any hint of amusement immediately drops from his face, as you anticipated.

"I don't know if I would have been so willing to make this trip if I had known you knew her from the very same circumstances that have landed you in such a precarious situation," he says. "But I suppose we're already well on the road by now, and not much can be done about that."

"Should have done a little more research then, huh?"

"I'm being nice to you, don't torture me for it."

"You're right, but if there's one thing I've learned during my limited time in the idol system," you say, "It's that if you're going to survive it, you better learn which information to lead with, and which information to omit." A beat of silence follows the statement, and regardless of whether or not he intends to reply, you finish off the thought with: "It's the only way to make it out alive."

After navigating the winding roads that make up the luxurious neighborhoods of Pyeongchang-dong, the car pulls up upon an enormous, modern home that you cannot think to describe as anything less than breathtaking.

The yard is vast and immaculately maintained; beautiful trees, expertly manicured shrubs and carefully crafted stones work as a pathway towards the front door itself, and though the residence is shielded off from its surroundings by a vast cement fence, the gate at the driveway gives a glimpse to what you are soon to experience.

"I'll drop you here," your manager says, "No need for me to head inside. I'll message you when it's time, enjoy it while you can."

That insistence rests heavy on your heart, knowing full well the depth of implication that sits behind it.

Standing at the gate, Rimi is fast to buzz you inside, though you make it a point to take in the sights that surround you and linger in the leisure that has presented itself toward you.

The front door is already ajar by the time you reach the stone footsteps, and with a careful shout to announce your arrival, you usher yourself inside.

Your voice carries through the high ceilings and empty hallways, and for a moment you consider if you have entered the correct home, at all. Of course, this worry is immediately quelled by the memory of your friend already having granted you access inside, but with how pristine your surroundings appear and unlived in the home seems, you wonder if anyone else is truly inside.

"Kitchen!"

The familiar voice calls out, echoing similarly as your own. So, you follow it without any knowledge of where the kitchen may actually be.

After rounding a few corners that ultimately lead nowhere, you eventually stumble upon not only the grandiose kitchen, but Rimi, herself.

"Baby!" she coos, rushing towards you and immediately throwing her loving arms around your body. "I'm so happy you came! I can't believe it! I've missed you so much, I could cry right now!"

Rimi does, in fact, carry on with the faux-tears that she has only just threatened for a dramatic display that you only now realize you have desperately missed. You kiss the side of her head, gently push her body away from your own and once the two of your eyes meet, you realize that there are tears welling for the both of you; but only one of them is fake.

"Why are you crying?" she asks, immediately concerned for the way the mood has shifted unexpectedly. "Don't cry, oh no! Let me make you a drink! Wait… Are you allowed to drink?"

Wiping your eyes with the back of your hand, a laugh catches in your throat and you say, "Yes, I can drink. Idols are allowed to drink, you know this."

"Right, of course." Rimi busies herself with trying to collect all of the necessities required for crafting up a cocktail, though it becomes evident rather quickly that she is not especially familiar with the layout of this place, either. "It's strange knowing someone in the industry now, sometimes it feels like I don't know anything about it anymore, despite being involved for so long. Is it the same as you thought it was? How much has changed from your initial perception."

You stare at her blankly, an absolute whirlpool of thoughts and considerations spinning through your mind simultaneously and it feels nearly impossible to answer the question with one, single thing. Your lack of reply must jar her from her task, because Rimi pauses as she's bent into the massive refrigerator and looks back towards you.

"What? What's wrong?" Her eyebrows furrow like she's trying to read the thoughts in your mind, and then she says, "Are you going to cry again?"

"No," you say through an airy chuckle, "But we certainly do have a lot to talk about."

Rimi is pretty and dainty in ways that idols typically are, and as you look at her from the opposite side of the couch, you can't help but wonder why she never bothered to pursue a career such as yours with the incredible amount of opportunities and wealth afforded to her already.

The candle on the table pops and crackles as the fire eats away at the wick, and the room fills with the light, ambient scents of vanilla and berry. It's comforting and reminds you of home even though this place is nothing like where you have come from; rather, it is the opportunity to sit and talk to someone without a camera and a set crew listening in on and picking apart each and every word.

Her bartending skills leave much to be desired, but it's better than nothing, and you're happy to have a drink in hand regardless of that fact.

"I've watched everything you've done since debut, I can't believe it's already almost a year," Rimi muses, looking longingly at the ceiling as if speaking to no one but herself. "MVNE is amazing, but of course, you're my favorite." She pauses for a second, hums to herself, then looks at you and says, "Well, you and Woori, of course."

"That's fair, Woori has a sort of magnetic pull to her. She's really lovely, we've become quite close over the year, and it happened quickly."

"Are the moods good amongst the members? Of course, I'd like to keep up more with you but these are the sorts of conversations that are best kept off of devices where they may get into the wrong hands."

"You always were a few steps ahead of the rest, weren't you?" Smiling, you take a sip of your drink and your head drifts off to rest against the couch. "It is good, I'm really thankful. I think I got very lucky. You hear a lot about groups where the relations are difficult amongst the members, so I'm just glad it didn't end up like that. There have been small hiccups, but nothing we haven't been able to overcome."

"Hiccups?" That appears to pique Rimi's interest, eyebrows shifting upwards on her face. "Ooh, do tell!"

"Well, as you know, there was the stuff with my past, and then similar with another girl who was not as forthcoming about hers. That caused a bit of a shift between us, some mild animosity. It's been dealt with since then. But also, there was something…"

You trail off, the words dying off on your tongue. Your heart begins to race as you contemplate being forthcoming about this, though you know perfectly well that if anyone can be trusted with it, it is Rimi.

A deep inhale follows as you make an attempt to steady yourself. Rimi's eyes remain glued to your form as you take another long, full sip of the very strong drink that she has not-so-expertly crafted, and then… You begin.

"I think, in order for this to make sense, I have to start elsewhere in the timeline of events." Another sip follows and you're quickly running out of alcohol to take the edge off, but smooth as ever, Rimi shoves her own glass towards you in order to make up for it, and you take it from her hand with an awkward, understanding smile.

"I think… I think Sunwoo and I are… dating."

"What!?"

Rimi just about flies out of her seat as the words leave your mouth, and you shut your eyes tight with the strong unwillingness to face her reaction.

"What do you mean you think?" she questions, voice high and shrill, "I feel like that's something you should definitely know if you're doing it! What does that mean!? You and Sunwoo? Sunwoo!? Kim Sunwoo!? The same one that you used to…"

"Yes! And can you keep your voice down before the whole neighborhood hears you!" Swatting at the air between the two of you, Rimi recoils and settles herself down, though you can tell she is still brimming with excitement at the alleged news.

"No one's going to hear anything here, all these homes are fortresses. Anyway, don't change the subject! Tell me everything!"

You roll your eyes and say, "I mean, there isn't a whole lot to say about it, really. It started as nothing, then it started very small, and then it sort of… rather quickly spiraled out of control. I don't know, we haven't really had a proper discussion to label anything, though he has made his stance on the matter quite clear."

"He wants to date? You don't?"

"It's complicated," you say. "We're idols, we're in the same company, I was his fan and we were friends prior to my becoming a trainee. It wouldn't exactly look great for either of us if it ever got out."

"Then don't let it get out!" Rimi reasons, like it's the most obvious and easy thing in the world. "Idols date all the time, what's the problem?"

"It can't be a secret forever. At least, we shouldn't move forward thinking that it will be."

"So, what? If you think you're dating—or whatever you call it—then it's pretty obvious that enough is already going on for you to say that. What difference does it make what label you put on it?"

Your next stiff sip is drawn from Rimi's volunteered glass.

"I don't know." You pause, look at her and then say, "I'm terrified? I have more people than just myself to think about." Another sip follows. "Plus, Sunwoo is always gone lately and I've been busy with comeback preparations, there just hasn't been any time to really hash it out. There was a moment not so long ago, and it got a little out of hand and wasn't nearly as private as it should have been. I think we're both reaching the end of our ropes as far as a situationship is concerned."

"Then make a decision!" Rimi says, arms spread wide like she is the one as tired of being involved with this debacle as you and Sunwoo are. "Just take a leap! Just… Jump!"

She makes it sound so simple, so carefree and without need for further thought. Swept up in the fleeting confidence of the moment, you have half a mind to dig out your phone and send a message to Sunwoo right now: To confess, to be honest and forthcoming, to once and for all put an end to these haphazard games.

"Yeah, maybe I should."

Rimi smiles at that, and without much time put between the topics her face lights up, she urges herself towards you across the length of the couch and devilishly says, "Enough about you. So, how's Hyunjae?"

Your abrupt reaction is once again to roll your eyes. "I honestly haven't spent much time with him, but from our very limited interactions he seems perfectly nice."

"Too busy with Sunwoo," Rimi says knowingly and with an accompanying nod, "I understand."

"I've also become quite close with Juyeon, if that's of any interest to you."

"Ooh! Love triangle! How exciting!"

"Please shut up and make me another awful drink."

The sun has not begun to set, but your heart feels the weight of it as if it is the soon to be sinking sun itself.

Your manager is a quiet man, something you have come to know about him over the year that the two of you have spent together. His words are few and far between—saved only for times in which they are best served—but his care and interest in you is often shown in other, more meaningful, ways.

In the silence of the car ride, you stare out of the window not unlike your journey there. A small gift bag of items sits in your lap that Rimi sent you off with; Japanese snacks, expensive cosmetics, and a little note that you haven't yet had the strength to read. All of them are hand wrapped with little bows and stickers and her incredible craftsmanship and kindness is easily seen with every tiny detail. If you are honest with yourself, it's difficult for you to look at it, and each time you do you feel the painful pang of longing in your chest that you have spent so much time trying to ignore.

Everyone tells you it gets better with time. That this feeling is expected and temporary, that you will move past this and come out on the other side of it. You have no other option than to believe them.

The radio is on and the man coming through the speaker is reporting on the news. Keeping up with the goings on of everything outside of your small, isolated idol bubble has become so much more arduous than you ever remember it being. You try to pay attention, try to make up for all of the lost time and indifference you have had in the face of anything except this one, singular thing that now encompasses your entire life. Shades of you that once existed—that you could easily see and parse through without thought—now seem to blend together and ultimately culminate into a new, entirely different entity that you don't remember ever giving way to.

Do you even exist outside of idoldom, at all? The idol version of you and the actual, real version of you that is true… Are they separate beings any longer?

Your mind drifts easily without the constant bombardment of activities to attend to, and you quickly realize that you've already lost interest in the man coming through the speaker. The thoughts inside of your head keep you too busy to pay him any mind… Until, that is, you hear the buzzing of a vibrating phone kept inside of your manager's pocket.

Once you hear it, you come to realize you've heard it passively for far longer than this. Whoever is trying to get his attention has been doing so for some time, and when you turn your head to look over at him you see the deep frown that has already formed on his face.

He notices you looking at him, and without more than a second going by he addresses the fact and says, "Must be important, but we're not far off now."

Indeed, twenty minutes or so from the dorm building. Not that you have been counting.

You can't quite explain it, the feeling that begins to rustle beneath your skin. Foreboding and unpleasant. Swallowing hard, you opt out of a verbal response and instead turn away as if accidentally becoming privy to something not at all meant for your eyes. It is uncomfortable and awkward, the silence immediately shifting to feel distressing for reasons you have not yet come to know.

The feeling that has begun to encompass you, is dread.

Slipping out of the car, you thank your manager and linger only long enough to see if he is going to check his phone now, rather than later. When he makes no motion to do so, you resign yourself to the fact that this is a situation that you will have to learn of through other means, at some other time, and you slowly make your way upstairs towards your dorm.

Upon reaching the door, you extend a hand to punch in the code and notice that your hand has a wary tremble.

Then, the door flies open.

"You're home!" Kaia says, but her features carry none of the happiness that one might expect from an anticipatory welcoming party. Her eyebrows are terse, lips flat and thin, and when you look past her to spot Miyoung just a ways further inside, she appears much the same. "I'm so glad you're back. We're so glad you're back. When we saw the news we tried to find you, then we saw you were taking a personal day and didn't want to interrupt but also—"

"What's going on?" you interrupt.

Kaia's mouth falls open as if the answer is already there, waiting to leap off of her tongue, yet still confined by the confusion of your question.

After a few silent moments, Miyoung rushes forward and says, "You should come inside."

"Seriously," you say, still holding the reward of a lovely reunion with Rimi that you are now beginning to believe is soon to be spoiled. Anxiety has long since taken hold of your insides, though with every passing second it becomes that much more unbearable to stomach. "What is this? Has something happened?"

The two girls look at each other, and then Miyoung digs out her phone from the pocket of her jeans.

"You haven't been on socials at all?" Kaia asks, and you do not find comfort in the breathless urgency that her tone carries.

"No, I was visiting an old friend, I didn't even think to. Why?"

Miyoung hands you her phone, and on the display is an article from a fairly reputable news source that often reports on idol-related news.

You read the title, your stomach drops. Then, you continue scrolling further.

"I mean, we don't know what this means to you," Kaia says with a nervous shake, "Maybe it's nothing, but…"

Miyoung does not say anything, because she absolutely does know.

The article details that Sunwoo was spotted in Japan a few months back, on a date with a fairly prolific photographer that he had been reported to have been working with at the time. The details of their goings on are sparse, but they are also unnecessary once you see the pictures that are attached.

As is usually the case with these sorts of things, the photos are grainy and taken from a distance. It is some nighttime excursion of sorts; drinks, dinner, candlelight—the works. There is no ease in making out certain intricacies of the outing, but what you absolutely can deduce is that it most certainly is Sunwoo in the photo, and this is all body language that you have seen many times before.

You stare at the photos for far too long, forgetting that you are amongst the company of your fellow bandmates. There is no time to feel your feelings about this despite how absolutely lethal this unexpected wound has been. You blink a few times, try to steady your voice to speak and look up at them to say, "Has the company responded? This could just be—"

"They have," Miyoung gently concludes. "Not exactly a resounding confirmation but… They definitely didn't deny it, either. It's a personal matter, et cetera."

With your throat tight and stinging, you force a smile that you know is far from convincing and make your way past them saying, "So much for being such close friends, if this is how I find out about things! Just like everybody else!"

You hear them call your name, but you have already rounded the corner into your bedroom and shut the door tightly.

One thing you're not going to do in relation to this, is cry.

And so, you swallow the pain down and force back the tears. Rather than wallow in the sadness that desperately wishes to take hold, you instead harness another feeling; one that is vindictive and destructive and threatens to throw all caution to the wind for any semblance of not only fleeting satisfaction, but revenge. You are angry, the only thing flowing through you now being rage.

With your phone in hand you finally see all of the missed calls and notifications that await you, but you rush right past them and instead, navigate elsewhere and initiate a call for yourself.

It rings four times, and just before the thought to reconsider emerges, it connects.

"We should meet. Tonight." There's a waver in your voice that you pray does not put-off the person on the receiving end of the proposition, but you are far from willing to concern yourself with that possibility right now, either. Thus, you urge further, as if to prove your interest in acquiring that which you are seeking. You say, "I'll leave it to you to set something discreet up, give me a time and a location. I'll be there."

Little more of the conversation carries on from there, but regardless of that, Juyeon agrees.

#sunwoo smut #tbz smut #the boyz smut #sunwoo x reader #sunwoo imagines #sunwoo scenarios #tbz x reader #tbz imagines #tbz scenarios #the boyz x reader #the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #kpop fanfic #kpop smut

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sunlightwoo · 1 day ago

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lily of the valley - sim jaeyun

✁ pairing: non-idol!jake x g.n reader

✁ genre: fluff, slight angst, established relationship warnings: nothing but cuteness aggression, and mentions of reader feeling as though they aren't able to love/to be loved

✁ wc: 974

✁ a/n: hi everyone!! this is my first fic in a while as im getting back into the rhythm of writing for bigger pieces to be released this year, so i hope you guys liked this as much as i liked it!! but happy 6 years to sunlightwoo, and thank you to everyone who's ever supported this blog after so long <3 i hope that from here on out i can finally put out the stories that i've been holding off on writing and posting on here for you guys to read! lastly thank you @quaissants for beta reading <3 and also again if you guys wanna join my permanent taglist, or this series' taglist, just shoot me a message/ask or click here!!

now playing: [lily of the valley by daniel] | part of the because i love you series

The silence of the night brought you reassurance after a long day of just thinking to exhaustion. You weren’t sure why today had felt different than any others, when you had done nothing different from your daily routine, but there was a heavy feeling settling in your chest as you looked out your window to the moon. Something didn’t feel complete after a long day that you had, and maybe the moon had the answers to it.

The sound of the front door opening breaks you away from your trance, but you didn’t have the energy to get up from your spot on your balcony. You already knew who entered your home, and it was the quick footsteps that were pacing to your bedroom that slowly made the smile that was starting to appear on your face. Those steps started to slow the same time that you took a deep breath and turned around to face your lover with a small smile, arms wrapped around yourself as you were bracing yourself in the cold with one of your spare blankets.

But it didn’t surprise him at all. What did was the small smile that didn’t quite meet your eyes at all.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen when you met with your parents today?” He asked quietly, slowly taking steps closer to where you had stood on the balcony and you shook your head in response.

“Can you just hold me for a bit, please?”

Your question threw him off guard for a moment, knowing that in all your years of dating, you were never often the first to initiate physical affection like now. It was something that you had struggled to express at first in the beginning stages of your relationship, but you came to a comfortable peace with it as time went on with Jake being the one to show you what it was like to love slowly.

Feeling his arms wrap around you, the heaviness that was once in your chest finally feels as though it were lifting from its shackle on your heart and that you could breathe once again. The both of you rock back and forth underneath the moonlight as he softly hums a small tune that you recognized from the radio that played the other day when you were both driving back from meeting with his family.

It reminded you of the reason you might’ve been so distant with your own mind today, when everybody had asked when you and Jake were going to get married. The both of you had answered them all with shy giggles and brushed off comments of when the time feels right, then it’ll happen since you were both still young. But these last few days had made you think about it more, when you slowly came to realize that you did want to marry him at some point of your life.

Which was why you had the rock sitting quite prettily on your finger with a small smile on your face. He had proposed to you just last night in the early morning hues with the sun shining in on the both of you. It was quiet, but you were both lounging around lazily considering it was a day off for the two of you. Jake felt it was the perfect time to propose when you were both talking about how you were so happy with living in the house that you both moved into just a year ago from yesterday.

Thinking about that moment, you remembered that you used to dislike the idea of marriage, seeing as though it was a specific point in your life where you might never meet the right person, and it scared you, leaving your walls up around your heart and wary of those around you. However, Jake had always proven you wrong and it was times like right now where you couldn’t wait to be with him for the rest of your life.

“You know that I love you, right? My first and last love…” Jake mumbles into your hair as he squeezes you just a little bit tighter at the waist, and you nodded in response into his chest, pulling away slightly to look up at him with a smile.

His eyes met with yours and this time, he could see a little twinkle in your eyes as your smile finally met with them. You notice how there were dark bags forming underneath his eyes from working longer these days, but you could tell that this time there was something hidden behind them as he stared into yours. Reaching up to cup his cheeks, you squeeze them a bit affectionately and start pecking kisses across them from the moment that you felt your heart swell from how much you had loved him.

You wouldn’t know where you would be without him, had you not met that fateful day at the park, but you also knew that it was fate that led you right into his arms.

Right where it was meant to be.

“I love you too, Jake. I’ll keep loving until the lilies in my heart die out.” You reply softly, and he presses a small kiss against your forehead with a smile on his face.

The lilies in your heart were mentioned a long time ago when you were on your first few dates, as you remembered telling him about a poem you once wrote about the flower growing in an empty valley. It reminded you of how you wished for your heart, in reference to the lily, to grow with time with feelings that were as pure as love can be.

And it seems like you had already found it, with the man whose arms are tightly embracing you until the end of time.

taglist: @cafeyuns @from-izzy @quaissants

#kvanity #k-labels #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #jake imagines #jake scenarios #jake fluff #jake drabbles #jake x reader #jake sim #sim jaeyun #jaeyun fluff

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jiminomenon · 5 hours ago

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it’s (not) my right to be hellish

pairing: ex-girlfriend! karina x female reader

tag(s): fluff, exes-to-lovers, second chance romance, jealous karina, a bit of angst, highschool au, karina being down bad as usual

word count: 4.2k

warning(s): alcohol consumption

summary: y/n and jimin were inseparable high school sweethearts, but when y/n asks for a break to figure things out, jimin is left heartbroken and confused. despite her frustration, jimin tries to win y/n back with small gestures, but y/n remains distant. things take a turn when a charming new student, starts getting close to y/n, doing all the things jimin used to do—walking her to class, bringing her food, and even partnering with her for projects. jimin’s jealousy grows as she watches y/n and minho grow closer, and she becomes desperate to prove that she’s the one y/n truly belongs with.

y/n and jimin had been inseparable for as long as anyone could remember. their story began in the hallways of their high school, two years ago, when y/n was a shy transfer student and jimin was the confident, popular girl who seemed to have it all.

it was during a rainy afternoon in their sophomore year when their paths first crossed. y/n had been struggling to find her way to the library, her map soaked and nearly illegible. jimin, ever the savior, had noticed her from across the hallway and approached with an umbrella in hand.

"you look lost," jimin had said, her voice warm and teasing. "need a guide?"

y/n had looked up, startled, only to be met with jimin’s bright smile and sharp, honey-brown eyes. she had stammered out a response, her cheeks flushing as jimin laughed and offered to walk her to the library. that was the beginning of everything.

from that day on, jimin made it her mission to be y/n’s personal tour guide, showing her around the school, introducing her to friends, and even helping her with homework. it didn’t take long for y/n to realize that jimin’s kindness wasn’t just for show—she genuinely cared. and it didn’t take long for jimin to realize that y/n was different from anyone she’d ever met. quiet but witty, reserved but fiercely loyal, y/n had a way of making jimin feel seen in a way no one else ever had.

their friendship blossomed quickly, filled with late-night study sessions, shared lunches, and endless laughter. but it wasn’t until the school’s minjeong formal that things shifted between them. jimin had asked y/n to go with her as friends, but by the end of the night, they were slow-dancing under the twinkling lights, their faces inches apart.

"you’re kind of amazing, you know that?" jimin had whispered, her breath warm against y/n’s cheek.

y/n had laughed, her heart racing. "says the girl who literally has a fan club."

"yeah, but none of them are you," jimin had replied, her voice soft but sincere.

that was the moment y/n knew she was falling for her. and when jimin leaned in to kiss her, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

their relationship had been a whirlwind ever since. jimin was the kind of girlfriend who would show up at y/n’s house at 2 a.m. just because she missed her, who would leave little notes in y/n’s locker with doodles and inside jokes, who would defend her fiercely if anyone dared to say a word against her. she was loud, bold, and unapologetically herself, and y/n loved her for it.

but jimin was also intense. she had a tendency to be possessive, always wanting to know where y/n was, who she was with, and what she was doing. at first, y/n found it endearing—proof of how much jimin cared. but over time, it started to feel suffocating. jimin’s love was all-consuming, and while y/n adored her, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was losing herself in the process.

it didn’t help that jimin had a habit of making decisions for both of them without consulting y/n. whether it was planning their weekends or choosing their classes for the next semester, jimin always took the lead, assuming y/n would go along with it. and y/n did, because she didn’t want to disappoint her. but the more she gave in, the more she felt like she was fading into the background of her own life.

the breaking point came one evening after school, when jimin had announced that she’d signed them up for a weekend trip with her friends without asking y/n first. "it’s going to be so much fun," jimin had said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "you’ll love it."

but y/n didn’t love it. she didn’t want to spend her only free weekend surrounded by jimin’s friends, pretending to be okay when she wasn’t. she wanted time to herself, to breathe, to think. and that was when she realized something had to change.

the rooftop was quiet, the usual hum of the school day replaced by the soft rustle of the evening breeze. y/n stood near the edge, her arms wrapped around herself as she stared out at the fading sunset. behind her, jimin leaned against the railing, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable.

"so, what’s up?" jimin asked, her tone casual but laced with curiosity. "you’ve been acting weird all day."

y/n took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. this was it. the moment she’d been dreading but knew she couldn’t avoid any longer. "jimin," she began, her voice steady but soft. "we need to talk."

jimin’s brow furrowed, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly. "okay... about what?"

y/n turned to face her, her hands clenched at her sides. "i think... i think we need a break."

the words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. for a moment, jimin just stared at her, her expression blank. then, slowly, her confusion turned to disbelief. "a break?" she repeated, her voice rising. "what are you talking about?"

"i just... i need some time to think," y/n said, her voice firm but calm. "everything feels so overwhelming right now. school, family, us... i need space."

jimin let out a short, incredulous laugh. "space? from me? what the hell does that even mean?"

"it means i need time to figure things out on my own," y/n said, her patience already wearing thin. "it’s not about you, jimin. it’s about me."

"bullshit," jimin snapped, her frustration boiling over. "if it’s not about me, then why are you pushing me away? we’ve been through everything together, y/n. why can’t we figure this out together?"

"because i can’t!" y/n shot back, her voice rising now. "i can’t think straight when i’m constantly worrying about us, about you. i need to focus on myself for once."

jimin took a step closer, her eyes blazing. "so, what? you’re just giving up on us? on everything we’ve built?"

"i’m not giving up," y/n said, her voice firm. "i’m just asking for time. is that so hard to understand?"

"yes, it is!" jimin exclaimed, throwing her hands up in frustration. "you’re not making any sense, y/n. if something’s wrong, we fix it. we don’t just take a *break*."

"you’re not listening to me," y/n said, her voice cold now. "i’m not asking for your permission, jimin. i’m telling you what i need."

jimin stared at her, her chest heaving as she tried to process what was happening. "this is ridiculous," she muttered, running a hand through her hair. "you’re being ridiculous."

y/n’s jaw tightened, her patience finally snapping. "i’m done with this conversation," she said, turning on her heel and heading for the rooftop door.

"y/n, wait!" jimin called after her, but y/n didn’t stop. she couldn’t. not when jimin was refusing to listen, refusing to understand.

jimin watched as y/n disappeared through the door, her frustration bubbling over into anger. she kicked the railing, the metal clanging loudly in the quiet evening air. "this is such bullshit," she muttered to herself, pacing back and forth.

but as the anger began to fade, it was replaced by something else—something colder, sharper. determination. if y/n thought she could just walk away, she had another thing coming. jimin wasn’t about to let this go without a fight.

the next day at school, jimin was a woman on a mission. she had spent the entire night replaying the rooftop conversation in her head, and one thing was clear: she wasn’t about to let y/n go without a fight. if y/n needed space, fine. but jimin was going to make sure that space was filled with reminders of how much she cared.

her first move was subtle. she arrived at school early and slipped a note into y/n’s locker. it was short and sweet, written in her messy handwriting: thinking of you. - jimin. she even added a little heart at the end, something she rarely did. as she walked away, she couldn’t help but smirk. y/n would have to appreciate that.

but when y/n opened her locker later that morning, she barely glanced at the note before crumpling it up and tossing it into the trash. jimin, who had been watching from a distance, felt her heart sink. okay, so maybe subtle wasn’t the way to go.

"so, let me get this straight," yizhuo said, leaning back in her chair as she stared at jimin across the cafeteria table. "you’re trying to win y/n back by... leaving her notes?"

"yes," jimin said, her tone defensive. "what’s wrong with that?"

"nothing, if you were in middle school," yizhuo replied, earning a snort from minjeong, who was sitting next to her.

"hey, it’s a start," jimin argued, crossing her arms. "i’m trying to show her i care."

"by leaving her notes that she probably didn’t even read?" minjeong chimed in, raising an eyebrow. "face it, jimin. you’re going to have to step up your game if you want y/n back."

jimin groaned, running a hand through her hair. "what am i supposed to do, then? she won’t even talk to me."

"maybe you should try talking to her instead of leaving cryptic notes," aeri suggested, her tone calm but pointed. "you know, like a normal person."

jimin glared at her friends, but deep down, she knew they were right. if she wanted y/n back, she was going to have to do more than leave notes in her locker. she was going to have to fight for her.

her next attempt was more direct. after school, she waited by y/n’s classroom, leaning casually against the wall as students filed out. when y/n finally appeared, jimin pushed off the wall and fell into step beside her.

"hey," jimin said, her tone casual but her heart racing. "need a ride home?"

y/n didn’t even look at her. "no, thanks," she said, her voice flat.

"come on, it’s raining," jimin pressed, gesturing to the downpour outside. "you’ll get soaked."

"i’ll be fine," y/n said, pulling her hood up and stepping out into the rain.

jimin watched her go, frustration bubbling up inside her. "stubborn," she muttered under her breath. but she wasn’t about to give up.

the next day, jimin decided to go all out. she showed up at school with a bouquet of y/n’s favorite flowers—white lilies—and waited for her by the entrance. when y/n arrived, jimin stepped in front of her, holding out the flowers with a hopeful smile.

"for you," jimin said, her voice soft but confident.

y/n stared at the flowers, then at jimin, her expression unreadable. "jimin, what are you doing?"

"trying to win you back," jimin said, her tone earnest. "i know i messed up, y/n. but i’m not giving up on us."

y/n sighed, her shoulders slumping. "jimin, i told you—"

"i know what you told me," jimin interrupted, her voice firm. "but i’m not going to just sit back and let you walk away. not without a fight."

y/n looked at her for a long moment, then shook her head. "i can’t do this right now," she said, stepping around jimin and walking into the school.

jimin stood there, the flowers still in her hands, feeling like the biggest idiot in the world. but as she watched y/n disappear into the crowd, she felt that familiar determination flare up again. she wasn’t done. not even close.

later that day, jimin found herself sitting on the floor of yizhuo’s bedroom, surrounded by her friends. minjeong was scrolling through her phone, aeri was sketching in her notebook, and yizhuo was lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling.

"so, let me get this straight," yizhuo said, breaking the silence. "you tried to win y/n back with flowers, and she just... walked away?"

"yes," jimin said, her tone defensive. "what’s wrong with flowers?"

"nothing, if you’re in a drama," yizhuo replied, earning a laugh from minjeong.

"maybe you’re trying too hard," aeri suggested, not looking up from her sketchbook. "y/n doesn’t seem like the type to be won over by grand gestures."

"then what am i supposed to do?" jimin asked, her frustration evident. "i can’t just do nothing."

"maybe you should give her some space," minjeong said, finally looking up from her phone. "you know, like she asked."

jimin groaned, leaning back against the bed. "i don’t know how to do that."

"clearly," yizhuo muttered, earning a glare from jimin.

the next few days were a blur of failed attempts. jimin tried everything—leaving y/n’s favorite snacks on her desk, offering to help her with homework, even flirting with her in public. but no matter what she did, y/n remained distant, her walls firmly in place.

it wasn’t until the new student, minho, transferred to their school that jimin realized just how much trouble she was in. minho was tall, handsome, and charming, and from the moment he stepped into the classroom, all eyes were on him. including y/n’s.

jimin watched as minho introduced himself to the class, his smile easy and confident. when he took the seat next to y/n, jimin felt her stomach drop. this was bad. really bad.

jimin had always been observant. it was one of the things y/n used to love about her—how jimin would notice the little things, like when y/n was having a bad day or when she needed a pick-me-up. but now, that same observant nature was driving jimin crazy.

ever since minho had transferred to their school, jimin couldn’t help but notice how he seemed to be everywhere y/n was. it started small—minho walking y/n to her classes, carrying her books, and even offering her snacks from his lunch. things that jimin used to do. things that were supposed to be her things.

at first, jimin tried to brush it off. so what if minho was being friendly? it didn’t mean anything. but then, it escalated.

walking to class

jimin was on her way to her next class when she spotted y/n and minho walking down the hallway together. minho was laughing at something y/n had said, his hand lightly brushing her arm as they walked. jimin felt her stomach twist.

"since when does she let him walk her to class?" jimin muttered under her breath, her eyes narrowing as she watched them disappear around the corner.

she couldn’t help but remember the first time she’d walked y/n to class. it had been raining, and y/n had forgotten her umbrella. jimin had swooped in, offering to share hers, and y/n had smiled at her in a way that made jimin’s heart skip a beat. now, minho was the one making y/n smile, and jimin hated it.

lunch time

jimin was sitting with yizhuo, minjeong, and aeri in the cafeteria when she noticed minho sitting with y/n at a table across the room. he was handing her a container of food, his smile wide and genuine.

"is that... sushi?" jimin asked, her voice tight as she stared at them.

"looks like it," yizhuo said, following jimin’s gaze. "why? you jealous?"

"no," jimin snapped, though her clenched fists said otherwise. "i just... i used to bring her sushi. it’s her favorite."

"well, looks like minho knows that too," minjeong said, her tone teasing.

jimin glared at her friends, but her attention was quickly drawn back to y/n and minho. y/n was laughing at something minho had said, her eyes crinkling in that way jimin loved. it was the same laugh jimin used to elicit, and now minho was the one causing it.

driving her home

after school, jimin was waiting by her car, hoping to catch y/n and offer her a ride home. but when y/n finally appeared, minho was right beside her, his car keys dangling from his fingers.

"need a ride?" minho asked, his tone casual but his smile knowing.

"actually, i—" y/n started, but jimin cut her off.

"i can drive you," jimin said, stepping forward. "like i always do."

y/n hesitated, glancing between jimin and minho. "it’s okay, jimin. minho already offered."

jimin felt like she’d been punched in the gut. "since when do you let him drive you home?" she asked, her voice sharper than she intended.

"since now," y/n said, her tone firm. "thanks anyway, jimin."

and with that, y/n climbed into minho’s car, leaving jimin standing there, her hands clenched at her sides.

group projects

the final straw came during class, when their teacher announced a group project. "pair up with your usual partners," the teacher said, and jimin immediately turned to y/n, expecting her to do the same.

but before jimin could say anything, minho was already sliding his desk next to y/n’s. "partners?" he asked, his smile easy and confident.

y/n hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "sure."

jimin felt like the ground had been ripped out from under her. "what about me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

y/n glanced at her, her expression apologetic but firm. "i think it’s better if we work with other people this time.

jimin stared at her, her heart pounding in her chest. this was supposed to be their thing. they always worked together. always. but now, y/n was choosing minho over her, and jimin didn’t know how to handle.

a party was hosted by one of the seniors, a popular guy named jaehyun who was known for throwing the best parties in school. it was the kind of event everyone talked about for weeks, and invitations were highly coveted. jimin hadn’t planned on going—she wasn’t in the mood for loud music and crowded rooms—but yizhuo had insisted.

"you’ve been moping around for weeks," yizhuo had said, her tone firm. "you need to get out of the house and have some fun. who knows? maybe y/n will be there."

jimin had rolled her eyes at the time, but the thought of seeing y/n had lingered in the back of her mind. so, when minjeong and aeri had shown up at her door that evening, dressed to impress and ready to go, jimin had reluctantly agreed.

"fine," she had said, grabbing her jacket. "but if this turns into a disaster, i’m blaming all of you."

"noted," minjeong had replied with a grin. "now let’s go before we miss the good snacks."

the party was in full swing by the time they arrived, the bass from the music thumping through the walls and the air thick with the smell of sweat and cheap alcohol. jimin had been drinking for hours, her frustration and jealousy bubbling over with every sip. she had come to the party with yizhuo, minjeong, and aeri, hoping to distract herself from the mess that was her life. but then y/n walked in—with minho.

jimin’s heart dropped the moment she saw them. y/n looked stunning, as always, her laughter ringing out as minho leaned down to whisper something in her ear. jimin felt her stomach twist, her grip tightening around the red plastic cup in her hand.

"you okay?" yizhuo asked, her voice cutting through the noise. she had been watching jimin all night, her concern growing with every drink jimin downed.

"i’m fine," jimin muttered, her eyes never leaving y/n and minho. "just peachy."

yizhuo followed her gaze, her lips pressing into a thin line. "you know, maybe you should just talk to her. sober."

"i’ve tried talking to her," jimin snapped, her voice rising. "she doesn’t listen. she’s too busy with him."

before yizhuo could respond, jimin was on her feet, her cup abandoned on the table as she made her way across the room. her vision was slightly blurry, her steps unsteady, but her determination was unwavering. she wasn’t going to let y/n walk away from her again. not without a fight.

y/n was standing by the snack table, laughing at something minho had said, when jimin appeared in front of her. her cheeks were flushed, her eyes glassy, and her words slurred as she spoke.

"what are you doing with him?" jimin demanded, her voice loud enough to make a few heads turn.

y/n blinked, her smile fading. "jimin? are you drunk?"

"maybe," jimin said, crossing her arms. "but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re here with him."

minho raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "is there a problem?"

"yes, there’s a problem," jimin snapped, her frustration boiling over. "you’re always around her, doing all the things i used to do. walking her to class, bringing her food, driving her home—now you’re here with her at a party? what’s next, huh? are you going to start holding her hand too? kissing her?"

"jimin," y/n said, her voice sharp. "stop it."

"no, i’m not going to stop," jimin said, her voice rising. "you don’t get to just replace me, y/n. i was there for you when no one else was. i was the one who made you laugh, who held you when you were sad, who loved you more than anything. and now you’re just... what? throwing that all away for him?"

y/n stared at her, her expression a mix of shock and frustration. "jimin, you’re being ridiculous."

"am i?" jimin shot back, her voice cracking. "because it sure feels like you’re forgetting everything we had. everything i did for you. and for what? so you can play house with some guy who doesn’t even know you like i do?"

the room had gone quiet, the music fading into the background as everyone turned to watch the scene unfold. y/n’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but before she could respond, jimin took a step closer, her voice softening.

"i love you, y/n," jimin said, her words slurred but sincere. "i love you so much, and it kills me to see you with him. please, just... come back to me."

y/n stared at her, her heart pounding in her chest. she had missed jimin more than she cared to admit, and seeing her like this—vulnerable, desperate, and completely honest—made it impossible to stay strong.

"jimin," y/n said, her voice soft but firm. "you’re drunk."

"so what if i am?" jimin said, her voice breaking. "it doesn’t change how i feel. i love you, y/n. i always have, and i always will."

y/n hesitated for a moment, then grabbed jimin’s hand and pulled her away from the crowd. "come on," she said, her tone firm. "we’re not doing this here."

jimin stumbled after her, her heart racing as y/n led her through the house and out into the backyard. the cool night air hit her face, sobering her up just enough to realize where they were. the backyard was quiet, the noise of the party muffled by the walls of the house. the only light came from the moon, casting a soft glow over the grass.

"what are we doing out here?" jimin asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"we’re talking," y/n said, her tone firm but gentle. "without an audience."

jimin stared at her, her heart pounding in her chest. "so talk."

y/n took a deep breath, her hands still holding jimin’s. "i missed you too, you idiot," she said, her voice soft but sincere. "but you have to understand—i needed space. i needed to figure things out on my own."

"and did you?" jimin asked, her voice trembling. "figure things out?"

y/n hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "i did. and i realized that no matter how much space i take, i always come back to you."

jimin’s heart skipped a beat. "what are you saying?"

"i’m saying that i love you, jimin," y/n said, her voice firm but gentle. "and i’m not going anywhere."

jimin stared at her, her heart swelling with hope. "does this mean...?"

"it means we’re going to figure it out," y/n said, her voice firm but gentle. "together."

and then she kissed her.

it was soft and sweet, a kiss filled with all the words they hadn’t been able to say. jimin’s hands found their way to y/n’s waist, pulling her closer as she kissed her back. it was everything she had been missing, everything she had been fighting for.

when they finally pulled apart, jimin’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes wide with shock. "what was that for?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"to shut you up," y/n said, her lips curling into a small smile. "and because i missed you too, you idiot."

jimin smiled, her heart lighter than it had been in weeks. "i like the sound of that."

as the noise of the party faded into the background, jimin realized that sometimes, love wasn’t about holding on too tight—it was about knowing when to let go, and trusting that the person you loved would find their way back to you.

#aespa karina #aespa x fem reader #aespa x reader #kpop gg #karina x reader #yu jimin x reader #yu jimin #yoo jimin x reader #yoo jimin #kpop x reader #loser jimin #downbad jimin #jealous karina #winter #kim minjeong #ningning #ning yizhuo #giselle #aeri uchinaga

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