#and i genuinely did forget about it until the morning happened | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mononijikayu · 5 months ago

Text

toxic till the end — fushiguro toji.

“You can’t fix everything. You should know that.” you replied, your words trembling as they left your lips. “I don’t know if I can ever forget that.” He nodded slowly, his expression one of deep regret. “I know.” Silence grew once more between the two of you. You could feel the tears pricking your eyes harshly. And you could tell that he was noticing as much as you.

GENRE: alternate universe - actor/s au!;

WARNING/S: afab! reader, nsfw, r-18, smut, making out, biting, scratching, kissing, rough sex, p-i-v sex, fingering (female receiving), creampie, pet names (babe, etc....), age gap (reader is late 20s, toji is mid 30s) love, humor, light-hearted, long-term relationship, secret relationship, cheating, break-up, falling out of love, toxic relationship, drama, depression, grief, sexual intercourse, depictions of sexual acts, depiction of naked bodies, depiction of cheating, depiction of grief, depiction of depression, mention of sexual innuendo, mention of sexual intercourse, actor! toji, actor! reader;

WORD COUNT: 15k words

NOTE: i know i disappeared for almost a week and im really sorry,,,,,i just wasn't feeling well and in the middle of that - i was also busy. i genuinely wanted to publish something but there were things that came up - including me finishing a commission. and also worrying about uni stuff. its a really long one, i still have stuff to edit for bonus cuts for that. i am really sorry but i come back with a fury with toji!!! anyway, i hope my absence didnt make yall leave. enjoy and i love yall :']

masterlist

if you want to, tip!

the good life ― masterlist.

══════════════════

YOU NEVER LIKED BEING PERCEIVED. Even if you were an actor, you didn’t want to be. You absolutely hated the attention, you hated having to be known to people you didn’t know on the street.

He knew that. Which is why you never allowed yourself to go on dates with him in that local restaurant. Or ever allow yourself to be comfortable kissing him, knowing paparazzis were following you both.

But he was loud about his love for you. He always has been. It was obvious when he looked at you during press tours. It was obvious when he heard the sound of your name and smiled like it was the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.

He was never good at hiding the fact that he was in love. That’s just how it was with loving a man so magnetic and passionate as him. He tried to convince you that he wanted the world to know.

Yet, you weren’t prepared to do that. You weren’t prepared for the world to know, for the world to be in your bed. You didn’t want everyone to know that you were his, because you were scared. You were scared of what could happen.

You’ve gone through the trauma of it before, your own ex–boyfriend announcing the break–up before you even knew about the break up. And all the people that hated you, for making him sad. For all those fantasies in their head of all the things you did wrong. You were frightful that it would repeat all over again.

Perhaps he got tired of that. Perhaps he got tired of waiting. Maybe he got tired of you. And you were scared of that. You were scared that this was the case.

You were horrified that he would do the same thing like that ex-boyfriend you loved before. You didn’t want to manifest it. But you also didn’t make a move. You were right. He would get tired of you. You made it this way. You let this happen.

The apartment was eerily silent, the kind of silence that pressed down on you, making every breath feel heavier. You stood in the living room, arms crossed, heart racing as you waited for Toji to come home. He had a late night shoot, he told you. They’d extended the shoot, because of the weather. That’s what he said in the next text. He won’t be home until today.

But as you waited home, all that plagued your mind was the conversation with your friend this morning. You felt sick as the words repeated over the phone.

It won’t go away, not even when you want it to. It remained ever so present, still echoing, hammering deep in your mind. It was as if the weight of her words settled deep in your chest like a knife would.

"I saw Toji last night." she had said, her voice hesitant. "He was with someone else."

“What….what do you mean by that?” You muttered back at her, still reeling from the words that slipped from her mouth. “Surely it was just another cast member—”

“They were kissing, babes.” She told you earnestly, yet you could tell she was having a hard time with it. She knew that everything she’s saying was breaking your heart. “I’m so sorry.”

“No…no, thank you for telling me.”

You hung up after that. You didn’t know what else to say. What could you have said that could have made it any better? You couldn’t think of anything. All that remained were the years of memories together, now scattered across that empty space where love should be.

The betrayal, the doubt, and the fear had been building in that space where you should feel your love for him. A place where it is still there, that love, bleeding and tattered by all that grief that comes with mourning the relationship. And now, standing here in the place you both called home, it felt like you were about to explode.

The door clicked open just around lunch time. You had remembered you had given Toji a separate key for your house. Just as you had a key for his. You didn’t want to see him just yet. Not right now. Fushiguro Toji stepped in, face covered by the levelling of his cap. His usual confident demeanor clouded by an unease you hadn’t seen before. He looked at you, the tension in the air immediately palpable.

Babe, didn’t know you’d be awake." he said, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

"You said you’d never do that to me." you replied, your voice trembling with a mix of hurt and anger. “You said you wouldn’t be like him.”

He nodded, closing the door behind him. "Alright. What’s going on?"

"I know you were with someone else last night, and you kissed her. My friend saw you." you spat, your voice breaking with the anger and pain you kept hidden. "How could you do this? How could you betray me like that?"

His eyes widened, and for a moment, he looked caught off guard. Then his expression hardened. "It’s not what you think."

"Not what I think?" you repeated, your voice rising. "Then explain it to me, Toji. Explain why you were out with someone else while I was here, thinking everything was fine."

"I was tired, okay?" he snapped back, his voice louder now, the frustration evident. "Tired of feeling like I’m not enough, like I’m just waiting for you to trust me."

“How long has it been?” You asked him. “How long have you and your lover been going behind my back?”

“Babe—”

“How long?”

He looked away, the contorting guilt bellowing all over his face. This was a look you had seen time and time again. “A few months.”

"A few months." You repeated.

“Yes, but it was casual hook ups and she has a boyfriend too—”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” you shouted, tears streaming down your face. "You think that’s going to fix anything?"

"I didn’t plan for it to happen." he said, his voice softening, but the damage was done. "I was just... I felt alone."

"You felt alone?" you repeated, the hurt in your voice cutting through the air. "What about me, Toji? Do you have any idea how alone I’ve felt, wondering if you’d get tired of me, if you’d leave me like everyone else has?"

He took a step closer, his expression filled with regret. "I never wanted to hurt you."

"But you did." you whispered, the fight leaving your body as the weight of it all pressed down on you. "God, I just….is it my fault? Is it because I have a busy schedule? Or is it just because I haven’t allowed the world to know about you? And you were desperate to be seen with someone?”

He shook his head. “That’s not the case.”

“It seems to look like it.” You laughed to yourself, almost mad in the thought of your grief. “You did say she had a boyfriend. I doubt that would have changed much, if she knew that you belonged to someone.”

He took a step closer, his eyes searching yours, filled with a regret that almost made your heart ache. His voice, usually so steady, trembled with sincerity. "Please, let’s talk about this. I can make this right."

The words hung in the air, heavy and bittersweet. You wanted to believe him, to let those words soothe the rawness inside you. But they felt too late, like a balm for wounds already too deep. You shook your head, the fight draining from your body as the weight of it all pressed down on you.

"You cheated on me. So brazenly." you whispered, your voice barely audible, laced with pain. "Just like he has. Just like every other man I’ve ever let into my life." The admission stung, the truth of it settling in your chest like a stone.

“Babe…..”

"Maybe you were just another number, another ex."

His face twisted in anguish, his hands clenching at his sides. "Babe, please, listen to me—"

“I’ve listened to you long enough.” Your voice was soft but firm, carrying the finality of a decision made. Tears blurred your vision, hot and relentless, streaking down your cheeks. “Just... leave your keys. I’m going. I can’t stand to look at you or stay with you here.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Toji's gaze faltered, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something more, to plead, to explain. But no words came. Slowly, he reached into his pocket, pulling out the keys that once symbolized shared moments, shared spaces, and placed them gently on the table.

“I’m sorry.” he said, his voice barely a whisper, a final echo of the love that had once been so vibrant between you.

You didn’t respond. There was nothing left to say. You turned, each step feeling heavier than the last as you walked away, leaving behind the remnants of a relationship that had once held so much promise. The door clicked shut behind you, the sound resonating like a chapter closing.

After that, he took all his stuff from your place and left. Even the keys. And you were glad he did. You were glad he wasn’t there. You blocked his number, you told your friends to stop relaying any messages from him he sent. You even cancelled any appearances with him for work, especially those for the Japanese leg of the press tour for Jujutsu Kaisen.

And then you disappeared, as though you didn’t exist.

You moved apartments, you didn’t tell anyone where you were. Only your manager knew, just so you could make it easier for her to pick you up for work schedules when you start doing them again. And changed phones and deleted your social media presence. You just wanted to be alone. You wanted to process the death of a seven year relationship.

Over half a year later, they start to see you again. The last they had seen you, you were still red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. You had explained that you dealt with some personal loss, which wasn’t untrue. People had speculations, they always have. But you didn’t want to admit to anything. You just let them have their fun and you let yourself have your grief.

The mirror had become a stranger for a while, reflecting someone you barely recognized, a shadow of the person you once were with Toji. The truest you had been yourself was with him. And now you have lost that. You had lost the version of yourself you had loved so dearly. And you hated how that too had revolved around him. Your most beloved life was him.

You hadn't planned on disappearing, not really. But each day felt heavier, each step harder to take, until retreating into the quiet solace of your loneliness and grief became the only thing you could manage.

And everyone in your agency was understanding of that. You haven’t truly taken a break in your entire career. And with that burn out, as much as the heartache, you had to have your time to yourself.

Little by little, you started to pick yourself up from the ruins of the failed relationship. Little by little you found yourself able to breathe again, even though you were still against the crashing waves of pain. At the very least there was some progress. At least you were getting somewhere.

Though, you couldn’t escape him. How could you, when he was so beloved by the world? Every corner of your world seemed to echo with the ghost of him. His face, smiling and confident, stared down at you from every billboard, a constant reminder of what you had lost years of your life to. Years you were the prettiest to yourself.

His voice filled the airwaves, every interview a cruel twist of fate, his laughter a haunting melody that played on repeat in your mind. Fushiguro Toji. His name was a bittersweet whisper, both a comfort and a curse, lingering in the recesses of your heart.

No one else knew that you had broken up. It was a secret you held close, it was a grief that belonged to you and only you. It was a wound too fresh and raw to expose to the world.

You hadn’t found the courage to say anything, convinced that speaking it aloud would make it all too real. Besides, you believed you didn’t have to explain yourself to anyone. Your pain was yours alone, a private storm that no one else could weather.

As you walked through the winding streets of Tokyo, the city lights blurred against your vision, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. The vibrant energy of the city felt distant, a stark contrast to the numbness that enveloped you. The world moved on, oblivious to the turmoil within you.

No one understood what you felt. No one probably ever would. It wasn’t just the loss of a relationship; it was the loss of a dream, a shared future that had unraveled before your eyes. The quiet moments, the laughter, the unspoken promises. They were all gone, leaving behind an emptiness that you didn’t know how to fill.

You kept walking, the sounds of the city fading into the background, your mind a whirlwind of memories and emotions. The ache in your chest was a constant reminder of what once was, and what could never be again. But even in the midst of the pain, you knew you couldn’t stay hidden forever. Life was waiting, and somehow, you had to find a way to live it again.

The door to your apartment closed behind you with a soft click, but the silence inside felt deafening. You slipped off your shoes and let your bag fall to the floor, the weight of the day pressing heavily on your shoulders. The familiar surroundings felt foreign now, as if the air itself had shifted, carrying the remnants of memories you weren’t ready to face.

You wandered through the small space, your eyes scanning the room aimlessly. You knew you should do something, anything to distract yourself. So you started cleaning, hoping the mundane task would occupy your mind. You wiped down the counters, straightened the cushions, and folded the laundry. But every movement felt mechanical, your thoughts drifting back to him.

Then you saw it—his jacket. Your mouth went agape at the sight of it. It hung innocuously by the door, just as it always had when he would visit your apartment. You didn’t know you still had it, from the move. You didn’t know the movers packed it too. He didn’t take it with him when he left the house.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. It was the same jacket he had worn countless times, the one that carried his scent, a mixture of cologne and something uniquely him. Without thinking, you reached out, your fingers grazing the fabric.

The moment you touched it, the floodgates opened. The tears came fast and uncontrollable, pouring down your face as you clutched the jacket to your chest. You sank to the floor, the weight of your sorrow too much to bear.

The scent of him enveloped you, bringing back a rush of memories. His arms around you, his laugh, the way he would kiss your forehead when you were feeling down.

You cried for everything you had lost. For the love you had poured into a man who could never fully be yours. A man older, with a life that always seemed just out of reach. A man who cherished his independence, who was never truly tethered to you in the way you had hoped. You had given him your prettiest years, the best of yourself, only to be left with the pieces of a broken heart.

Tomorrow was the shoot, and you knew you had to pull yourself together. The contract was signed long before the breakup, back when you thought working together would be another way to share your dreams, your passions, your lives. Now, it was the weight pulling you into a reality you weren’t ready to face.

Tonight, the pain was too fresh, too overwhelming. How could you stop crying when every corner of your life was a reminder of him? When his presence still lingered in the smallest things, like a ghost haunting the spaces you once shared?

You stayed there, curled on the floor, clutching the jacket as the tears continued to fall. It wasn’t just about losing him. It was about losing the future you had imagined, the dreams you had built together.

And as the night stretched on, you let yourself grieve, knowing that somehow, you had to find the strength to face tomorrow. But for now, all you could do was cry.

══════════════════

MORNING ALWAYS DOES COME. And when it does, you try to make the effort to still stand on your own two toes. When the morning came, exhausted and numb, there you were facing the inevitable.

You bowed to everyone, greeting them with as much enthusiasm as you could muster. You smiled as though there was no problem at all. Chattered and sat there on the make–up chair like nothing had happened. As if there was nothing at all that shattered you to nothing.

The studio lights felt harsher than you remembered, their unforgiving brightness illuminating every inch of the set—and every crack in your heart. It was as if they knew, as if they were exposing the rawness inside you, the pain you had tried so hard to bury. The bustling crew moved around you, adjusting cameras, checking props, but their chatter seemed distant, muffled by the storm in your mind.

You couldn’t help but feel nervous, your hands trembling ever so slightly. It felt strange, almost surreal, like this was your first time stepping in front of the camera. You had done this a hundred times before, but today was different.

Today, you were a different person. The warmth of reassurance that once came from a simple touch, his hand brushing against yours, his quiet, steady presence—was gone. You were on your own now, and the weight of that reality pressed down on you like a heavy cloak.

You swallowed hard, the bile rising in your throat as the familiar sting of tears threatened to break free. Your muscles tensed, contorting as you fought the overwhelming urge to let go, to release the tears that had been building up inside you. But you didn’t. You wouldn’t. You couldn’t let yourself fall apart here, not now.

Not now, you repeat to yourself, a mantra you clung to with every ounce of strength you had left. You didn’t want it. You didn’t want the tears, the loneliness, the pain. You didn’t need it. You had told yourself this over and over again. You didn’t need to feel this, not here, not under the glaring scrutiny of the studio lights and the watchful eyes of everyone around you.

Your breaths came in shallow, shaky gulps as you forced yourself to focus, to channel everything into the character you were about to portray. The lines blurred between the role you played and the person you were, but you clung to that thin line of separation, hoping it would hold. This was your sanctuary, your escape. If you could just hold on a little longer, maybe the pain wouldn’t consume you.

You could do this, you told yourself.

You could survive this, you know you could.

It’s only for a few weeks of this misery.

But as you lifted your eyes, you saw him again.

And all that resolve dissolved almost instantly.

Fushiguro Toji stood across the room, talking to the director, his usual charm evident in the way his shoulders shook with laughter. The sound of it, rich and familiar, carried across the set, drawing the attention of those nearby. He looked relaxed, his posture loose, his smile easy. He seemed to be in happy spirits, more than the last time you saw him.

It was a sharp contrast to the last memory you had of him—tense, conflicted, the weight of your shared history etched into every line of his face. But now, he seemed lighter, as if the burden of your breakup had lifted from his shoulders. The sight of him like this stirred a mix of emotions within you. Jealousy, sadness, and an aching longing you tried to suppress.

You watched from a distance, your gaze lingering longer than you intended. It was painful, seeing him so carefree, as if nothing had changed, as if the past weeks hadn’t unraveled you both. But there he was, moving through the room with an ease that seemed effortless, while you struggled to keep your composure.

The director clapped him on the back, and Toji’s laugh echoed again, brighter this time. You quickly averted your eyes, pretending to busy yourself with your script, but the image of him remained imprinted in your mind. It was harder than you thought it would be, being in the same space, breathing the same air, while feeling worlds apart.

For a moment, you wondered if he had truly moved on, or if this was just a façade, a mask to hide whatever he might still be feeling. But you pushed the thought away. It didn’t matter. What mattered now was surviving this day, this scene, and the countless others that would follow. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the inevitable interaction. You had to face him eventually.

The director’s voice cut through the low hum of the studio, calling for everyone to take their places. “Alright, let’s get started! Everyone, introduce yourselves before we begin.”

You took a deep breath, forcing your shoulders to relax as you stepped forward with the rest of the cast. The weight of the moment pressed heavily on your chest, but you reminded yourself to stay calm, to keep it together.

Your eyes, however, betrayed you, flickering towards Toji for the briefest second before you snapped them away, focusing instead on a point somewhere beyond him. You were a professional. You had done this countless times before. You had been through worse—or so you told yourself. You could do this. You had to do this.

As the introductions began, your turn loomed closer. Each name and face passed by in a blur until the spotlight shifted to you. You bowed to each and every one, smiling at them as best you could even though you couldn’t process it all just yet.

“Hello, nice to meet you all!” you said, introducing yourself. Your voice is steady despite the storm within. “It’s great to be working with everyone.”

Your words were polite, professional, and utterly detached. At least you notice it. But the others didn’t seem to. You could see the blur in all their smiles towards you, shining in a way you couldn’t recognize. You barely registered the murmured responses of the others, your focus pinned on keeping your composure. Then it was Toji’s turn.

He stepped forward, his presence commanding as always. “Fushiguro Toji.” he said, his voice carrying effortlessly across the room. There was a familiar warmth in his tone, one that made your heart clench. “Looking forward to working with all of you.”

His blue–green eyes flicked to you, just for a moment, but it was enough to send a ripple of tension through your body. You held his gaze for a heartbeat longer than you intended, before quickly looking away, pretending to be engrossed in the script in your hands.

The director clapped his hands together, breaking the moment. “Alright, let’s dive into it! Remember, the first scene is a heavy scene, so take your time and feel it out. Call for a cut any time you want to. So let’s start, like we rehearsed.”

You nodded at the director. Everyone moved to their places, and you found yourself standing just a few feet away from Toji. The air between you felt charged, the unspoken history hanging like a shadow over the set. He glanced at you, his expression unreadable.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice softer now, almost cautious.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. “Yeah.” you murmured, your eyes fixed on the floor.

Toji hesitated for a moment, as if he wanted to say more, but the director called for action, and just like that, you were thrust into the scene. The lines between fiction and reality blurred once again, and all you could do was hold on and hope you made it through without falling apart.

As the cameras rolled and the scene began, you pushed everything else aside, locking the pain away in a corner of your heart. The studio lights continued to shine, harsh and unrelenting, but you stood your ground. You didn’t need your tears. You didn’t need your loneliness. All you needed was to make it through this moment. And somehow, you would.

The first scene couldn’t have been more ironic if the universe had written it itself. A husband and wife, embroiled in a bitter argument, their marriage on the brink of collapse. Every word in the script seemed like a cruel reflection of your own reality. The dialogue cut too close, each line a dagger, the emotions too raw to ignore.

You had told yourself you could handle it, that you could compartmentalize the character’s turmoil from your own. But as the words spilled from your lips, it felt as if the character had seized control of your body, dragging all your buried feelings to the surface, laying them bare for everyone to see.

“Why don’t you ever listen to me?” you shouted, your voice cracking with the weight of suppressed emotion. The accusation wasn’t just a line; it was a scream from your heart. “You’re always so wrapped up in your own world! What about us? What about me?”

The tears that pricked your eyes weren’t from the script. They were your own, threatening to fall, the pain of the breakup echoing in every syllable. Across from you, Toji’s eyes darkened, his expression hardening as he stepped into his character. His voice, sharp and filled with a familiar bitterness, mirrored your own anguish.

“Don’t act like I’m the only one who made mistakes!” he shot back, his tone rising, the frustration palpable. “You think it’s easy, carrying the weight of everything? Maybe if you tried to understand instead of blame—”

“Understand?” you interrupted, your voice trembling with the effort to hold back tears. The sting in your eyes blurred your vision, but you pressed on. “I’ve tried! I’ve given everything, and it’s never enough for you!”

The room felt electric, the tension between you both so thick it was as if the air itself might shatter under the weight of it. Each word hung in the air, resonating with a truth neither of you could ignore.

The director’s voice called out, “Cut! Let’s take a moment.”

The tension didn’t dissipate with the end of the scene. It lingered, heavy and suffocating, as if the raw emotions couldn’t be contained by the simple call for a break. You stood there, your chest heaving with the effort of keeping your tears at bay, your hands clenched into fists at your sides.

Toji remained across from you, his jaw tight, his eyes still locked onto yours. For a moment, neither of you moved, as if frozen in the aftermath of the words that had been exchanged—not just between the characters, but between the two of you.

You stood frozen, your chest heaving as the emotions coursed through you. Toji turned to face you, his expression unreadable. You saw him take a step toward you, and panic clawed at your chest, but you forced yourself to stay put. Running away wouldn’t solve anything. You had to face this, face him.

“Hey.” Toji said softly, his voice gentler than it had been during the scene. “Are you okay?”

You swallowed hard, nodding even though your body betrayed you with a slight tremble. “Yeah. Just… caught me off guard, that’s all.”

He looked at you for a moment, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to gauge how much of the scene was acting and how much was real. “It felt real.” he admitted, his tone cautious. “Too real.”

“Yeah.” You murmured, not looking at him. You didn’t want to. You didn’t know if you were prepared to just yet.

The tension between you and Toji was palpable, thick like fog, clouding every inch of the set. You stood there, heart pounding, as the reality of the situation settled deeper into your bones. This was not just a fleeting moment; this was going to be every day, side by side, pretending like everything was fine when it was far from it.

Toji shifted on his feet, his usual confidence seemingly faltering as he took in your guarded expression. “I didn’t think you’d come today.” he admitted, his voice lower, more vulnerable than you remembered. “Thought you’d call in sick.”

“I didn’t have much of a choice. I have a job to do.” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “Besides….you showed up too.”

Silence befell the two of you after those words. You started fidgeting with your fingers, something you would do when you were nervous. As you feel your throat closed up, you purse your lips into a flat line. You thought it was time to walk away, to take your time away from him before the next take.

Finally, Toji broke the silence, stepping closer, his voice lower but no less intense. “It was just acting.” he said, his tone softer, almost vulnerable. “I’m sorry for my tone.”

You swallowed hard, your throat constricting. “So was I.” You whispered, your voice barely audible.

The tears you had been holding back now threatened to spill over, but you refused to let them fall. Not here. Not in front of him. Toji’s gaze grew softer as he looked at you, the anger from the take earlier melting into something more akin to sorrow. Something you think you were more familiar with.

“I didn’t want things to end that way.” He admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Can we not talk about it—”

“But I want to.” He tells you in his retort, abruptly cutting you off. “I need to. I want to fix everything.”

“You can’t fix everything. You should know that.” you replied, your words trembling as they left your lips. “I don’t know if I can ever forget that.”

He nodded slowly, his expression one of deep regret. “I know.”

Silence grew once more between the two of you.

You could feel the tears pricking your eyes harshly.

And you could tell that he was noticing as much as you.

He nodded slowly, his gaze dropping to the floor before meeting yours again. “I’m glad you’re here….at least.” he said quietly, sincerity lacing his words. “I know it’s hard, but maybe… maybe we can find a way to make this work.”

You almost laughed, the irony of it all hitting you. “Make this work?” you repeated, your voice tinged with disbelief. “You mean like how we were supposed to make us work?”

Toji winced, the pain in your words cutting through him. “I didn’t mean it like that, you know that.” he said softly. “Look, I….I know I hurt you. I know things didn’t go the way we wanted. But this project… it’s important to both of us. Can we at least try to be civil? For the sake of the work?”

You bit your lip, torn between the urge to lash out and the need to maintain some semblance of professionalism. “Civil.” you echoed, testing the word on your tongue. “I guess we can try.”

He offered a small, hesitant smile. “Thank you.”

A tense silence settled again before he spoke once more. “Look, I don’t want to make things harder than they already are. If you need space, I’ll give it to you. Just... don’t shut me out completely.”

Your heart ached at his words, but you forced yourself to stay composed. “Space would be good.” you agreed, your voice firmer now. “Let’s just focus on the work. That’s all we need to do.”

Toji nodded, accepting your terms. “Okay. Work it is.”

The director called for everyone to reset for the next take, but the two of you remained locked in place, the world around you fading into the background. It was a moment of unspoken understanding, a shared pain that neither of you could fully articulate. As the crew moved around you, preparing for the next shot, Toji took a step back, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer.

“Let’s get through this.” he said quietly, his voice carrying a weight that spoke of more than just the scene ahead. “We owe it to ourselves.”

You nodded, unable to speak, and turned away. Your assistant handed you the script once again and you found yourself trying to focus on the script in your hands. The show had to go on, but the lines between fiction and reality had never felt so blurred.

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, a mix of relief and sorrow washing over you. This was your new reality. It probably always will, when people like your chemistry together.

You are going to be stuck working side by side with the man who broke your heart. But as you watched him go, you realized something: you weren’t the same person you were before. You had been broken, yes, but you were also stronger now.

You knew that. And maybe, just maybe, that strength would see you through this. You took a deep breath, squaring your shoulders. The day had only just begun. But you were praying that he doesn’t look at you with that look in his eyes again.

══════════════════

DAYS ON SET BECAME A NEW STANDARD OF LIVING. You haven’t been sure you were used to it yet after a long time away, but you were sure about to get there. At least that’s what you’ve been telling yourself.

As the days turned into weeks, the rhythm of the shoot became oddly familiar. Early morning calls, practice for heavy scenes, dress rehearsal, the chaos of set preparation, and the god awful long night to morning shoots.

This was the relentless cycle of takes transformed into your new daily standard routine. You and Toji fell into an unspoken pattern between the two of you, though. But you had to be, if you wanted to keep your jobs. It was a strange thing to witness, if one was being honest. It took a lot of effort to memorize the dance. And every bit of that was equal parts effortless and exhausting.

On the surface, you were professionals—co-workers delivering lines, executing roles, keeping up appearances. Especially him, he was your senpai too. He was good at maintaining that mask on him more than you were.

But beneath the polished veneer, tension simmered, weaving itself into every glance, every exchange, every shared silence. You could tell just by looking at his eyes. No one else but you could do that, after all.

The studio became your shared battlefield, its walls echoing with unspoken words. You threw yourself into the work, burying raw emotions beneath layers of performance day after day.

But when the director yelled for the cut, you knew that the veil dropped most instantaneously. And that always leaves you vulnerable to the presence of the man who had once been your everything.

Fushiguro Toji was close enough to touch yet felt a world away from you. And you were certain that he felt the same way about you too. After all, you had a wall he couldn’t reach. You wouldn’t let him reach it. There was no way for him to know what to do with you.

But this doesn’t stop you from looking. Nor did it stop him from doing the same thing. You had noticed everything about him and what he does. It was obvious how hard it is to be exes on set. It was even harder when you were soulmates.

There was the slight hesitation in his laugh, the way his smile sometimes faltered at the edges. He was both familiar and foreign, a stranger wearing a face you had loved. Everything about him was something you knew and everything about him was something that was a mystery. It was a really intriguing thing. And that was the worst thing of all. You were intrigued about the man you loved and hated all at once.

Conversations were sparse at first, clinical and focused on the work. You both clung to professionalism like a lifeline, avoiding anything that might hint at the depth of your shared history. The lines were clear: scenes, blocking, timing, delivery. Anything beyond that was dangerous territory.

You were determined to keep things professional, to relegate your relationship to the sterile confines of work. But no matter how hard you tried, the walls you’d built between yourselves began to splinter under the weight of the unspoken.

The first crack came during a late-night shoot. The two of you stood under the harsh glow of the heavy set lights, running through lines while the crew adjusted the framing. Toji, leaning casually against a prop table, smirked at a mistake you made while stumbling over a particularly convoluted line.

“That’s the third time now.” he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear. There was a teasing edge to it, but it was softer than you remembered.

You shot him a sharp look. “Thanks for keeping count.” you replied, your tone clipped, though your lips twitched against your will.

His smirk widened, but there was no malice in it, just a faint warmth. “You’re welcome. I thought I’d help out since you seem… preoccupied.”

You rolled your eyes, brushing him off. “Preoccupied with carrying this scene, maybe.”

The banter was fleeting, but it lingered in the air long after the cameras rolled again. Once again, you did the best you could and continued to bring your spirits up. As the night progressed, the director started to feel a little bit more satisfied with one or two shots. And that had at least allowed you the hope of going to sleep soon.

Later, during one of the scene changes, you caught him watching you as you adjusted your new costume. He didn’t look away quickly enough, and your eyes met. For a moment, the distance between you felt less insurmountable, the years of hurt and silence shrinking into the space of a single glance. That glance was the longest moment of your life, you were sure.

“What?” you asked, a touch defensive, your voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitated, as if debating whether to respond, then shrugged. “Nothing. You just… remind me of something.”

You wanted to press him, to ask what he meant, but the vulnerability in his expression stopped you. His eyes, usually so guarded, were uncharacteristically soft, as if he was on the verge of saying something he couldn’t quite bring himself to voice.

Instead of pushing, you turned back to the mirror, pretending not to notice the way his gaze lingered, tracing the reflection of your face as though searching for something. It was recognition, understanding, forgiveness.

But then you caught yourself. The silence was becoming unbearable, the air between you thick with things neither of you dared to say. You cleared your throat, the sound breaking the tension like a sharp crack in the stillness.

“We should start rehearsing.” you said, your voice steady, though your heart was racing. “For the scene.”

For a moment, Toji didn’t respond. He seemed to weigh your words, as though deciding whether to challenge the sudden shift or let it go. Finally, he tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing in quiet disbelief.

“...Are you comfortable doing that with me?” he asked, his tone careful, hesitant. It wasn’t the confident Toji you remembered, the one who always seemed so sure of himself, even when everything around him was chaotic. This was different—softer, almost unsure.

You hesitated, the question throwing you off balance. There was a part of you that wanted to lash out, to let him know how much his presence still affected you, how rehearsing with him wasn’t just work. But you swallowed it down, forcing yourself to focus on the here and now.

“Yeah, why not?” you replied, shrugging as though it didn’t matter. Your tone was light, almost dismissive, but the tension in your voice betrayed you.

Toji’s lips twitched, not quite a smile but not entirely neutral either. “Why not, huh….” he echoed softly, more to himself than to you. He took a step closer, crossing into your personal space but stopping just short of overstepping.

“Okay.” he said finally, his voice steady now, though his eyes still carried that flicker of something unresolved. “Let’s rehearse.”

You nodded, turning away from the mirror and moving toward the small table where the script sat. You busied yourself with flipping through the pages, anything to avoid looking at him directly. But you knew, you could feel it — he was looking at you and only you.

As you both settled into the familiar rhythm of line-reading, the tension between you didn’t fade entirely, but it softened, shaped by the shared focus on the work. There were moments, brief but poignant, where you caught glimpses of the man you had once known in the way he delivered a line or the way he watched you deliver yours.

Yet you knew when you said these things, you knew it would be bad. You knew they would hit too close to home, too personal. And that was what happened. When the two of you were finally shooting the emotional scene, it was more real than your practice and perhaps, that’s what fueled your acting.

The dialogue was heavy, charged with the kind of raw emotion that mirrored your real-life tension a little too closely. It was a confrontation scene this time around—a breaking point between two lovers teetering on the edge of collapse. As you delivered the lines you had practiced, the words felt too personal, too sharp, cutting into wounds that hadn’t fully healed. And you hated it.

“That’s all you ever do, isn’t it?” your character accused, the anger in your voice reverberating through the silent set. “You push people away the second they get too close. You think it’s easier to walk away than to face what you’ve done.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You could feel every pair of eyes in the room on you, the weight of the moment pressing down like a vice. But your focus was on Toji.

He stood across from you, his character’s guilt written across his face, but there was something else there—something unspoken that made your chest tighten. Somehow, it was his real face. Somehow, it was his truest blossom of regret.

The director called for a break, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. The crew scattered, murmuring amongst themselves, but the energy in the room remained electric, charged with the kind of intensity that couldn’t simply be switched off.

You turned away quickly, grabbing a water bottle from the craft table. Your hands were trembling slightly, your pulse still racing. You focused on the coolness of the bottle against your skin, anything to ground yourself, to pull you out of the emotional spiral the scene had sent you into.

“You okay?” Toji’s voice came from behind you, quiet but insistent.

You stiffened, refusing to turn around. “I’m fine. Just… in the scene.”

“Right.” he said, but there was a note of skepticism in his voice. “You sure that’s all it is?”

Something in his tone made you snap. You spun around to face him, your eyes blazing. “Why? Do you think I’m talking about you?”

Toji’s jaw tightened, his posture rigid. For a moment, his mask of calm slipped, and the vulnerability beneath it was laid bare. “I don’t know.” he said, his voice low and even. “Are you?”

The question hung between you, the weight of it almost unbearable. His gaze locked onto yours, unflinching, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to blur, leaving just the two of you standing there, raw and exposed.

“What if I was?” you shot back, your voice quieter now, but no less sharp. “Would it even matter?”

His lips parted as if to respond, but no words came. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, neither of you willing to back down, yet both too afraid to fully engage. Before either of you could break the impasse, a crew member approached, clipboard in hand.

“We’re resetting for the next take.” they announced, oblivious to the charged atmosphere. “Five minutes.”

You tore your gaze away from Toji, nodding curtly at the crew member and quietly thanked them before turning on your heel and walking away. Your footsteps echoed in the cavernous studio, each one feeling heavier than the last.

As you retreated to the corner of the set, you could feel Toji’s eyes on you, his presence lingering like a ghost. Even as the crew busied themselves with preparations and the director barked instructions, the tension between you remained, an invisible thread pulling tauter with every passing moment.

You leaned against a prop, exhaling shakily, trying to center yourself. The scene was over, but the emotions it had stirred up were still thrumming through your veins. And as much as you tried to tell yourself otherwise, you knew this wasn’t just about the script. This was about the two of you—about all the things you’d left unsaid and all the wounds that still refused to heal.

══════════════════

YOU HADN’T READ THE NEXT PART OF THE SCRIPT YET. You had been too emotionally exhausted about what you had been doing for work that you had put off reading the script. Which was fine, you were able to memorize things easily when you see it long enough. That’s why you have this sort of career in the first place.

So the next morning, you arrived on set early with your manager. You greeted everyone as you were clutching your script tightly in your hands. Your manager quickly greeted everyone and went to you, before telling you that he’ll get you both coffee from the coffee truck. You nodded at her, telling her that you’ll just be sitting on the trailer.

It had become a habit, one you told yourself was about preparation — ‘it will work out’; but deep down you knew it was also a way to mentally brace yourself for whatever the day might bring. You have told yourself that phrase for years now, but perhaps, it didn’t hit as hard as it has now. Much more because you were working with the man you were in a relationship with for quite a lot of years.

Working with Fushiguro Toji was a constant balancing act, teetering on the edge of professionalism and the unresolved tension that hung between you like a storm cloud storming away with its raging thunder and its hurling battering rains. That was just what it was, when you were working with someone you still had unresolved issues with.

You settled into your usual corner, flipping through the script for the day’s scenes. You moved to take the pen from your bag, and started highlighting things you wanted to work on and things you wanted to ask for feedback from the director. As you skimmed the pages, your eyes caught on a block of stage directions that made your stomach drop. A part you hadn’t seen just yet.

Hiruka steps closer to Suzaku, their faces just barely inches apart. The tension between them is palpable, one that pushes them together like gravity and after a beat, they kiss.

Your mouth went agape at what you had just read. This was not what you expected. You clutched your heart, feeling how it skipped a beat. For a moment, you just stared at the words, as if doing so would somehow make them disappear. But they didn’t. The scene was there, in black and white, unavoidable.

"Everything okay?" a voice broke through your thoughts. One of the assistant directors, passing by with a clipboard, glanced at you with mild concern.

You forced a smile, nodding. “Yeah. Just going over the script.”

She nodded, already distracted by another crew member waving her down, and you exhaled slowly, your mind racing. You haven't kissed Toji since… well, since before everything had fallen apart.

The idea of doing it now, even in character, felt like reopening a wound you’d barely managed to scab over. Even though it had been six, seven months since the breakup, the thought still wasn’t something you had gotten used to. The memories of what had been lingered like a ghost, haunting the edges of your mind whenever you let your guard down.

But then again, no one knew you were dating. To everyone else, you were just friends. Friends and co-workers. That was the story they had always known, the one you had carefully curated and protected. It wasn’t their fault—they didn’t see the quiet moments shared off-set, the way his hand used to linger on yours, the stolen kisses behind closed doors, the whispered promises of something that had felt so certain at the time.

You… you weren’t ready to tell anyone. The idea of opening up that part of your life to the world had felt too vulnerable, too risky. So you had kept it quiet, only sharing the truth with a handful of people you trusted—close friends who had sworn to keep your secret. Back then, it had felt like the right choice, like something sacred and yours to guard.

Now, though, it felt like a double-edged sword. No one on set knew about the history between you and Toji, which meant no one understood how charged this scene truly was. They didn’t know how much it would take to get through it without letting the weight of the past seep into every glance, every word, every touch. To them, it was just another part of the job.

But to you? To you, it was a reckoning.

You rubbed your temples, trying to shake the thought away, but it clung to you stubbornly. You were here to work, to act, to tell a story. You had gotten through every other scene with Toji, no matter how tense or emotionally taxing it had been. You could get through this one too.

Couldn’t you?

Your internal spiral was interrupted when Fushiguro Toji walked onto the set, his usual calm demeanor in place. He spotted you almost immediately and gave a slight nod in greeting, but his expression shifted when he noticed the look on your face.

“Something wrong?” he asked as he approached, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You hesitated, holding up the script instead of answering. “Have you read today’s scenes?”

He frowned slightly, taking the script from your hand and flipping through it. You watched his blue–green eyes scan the page one after another, his expression shifting from neutral to surprised and then to something you couldn’t quite place.

“Oh.” he said simply, his voice unreadable.

“Yeah.” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest. “Oh.”

Toji closed the script, handing it back to you. “Well….” he began, his tone measured. “It’s part of the job, right?”

His casual response made your irritation flare. “Don’t act like this is nothing.” you shot back, keeping your voice low but firm. “You know it’s not. Not with us.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not saying it’s nothing. I’m saying we’ve done this before. We’re professionals for a reason. We’ll handle it.”

The word professionals felt like a jab, as if he was reminding you that whatever was between you didn’t matter anymore. You opened your mouth to argue but stopped yourself, biting back the words. Instead, you took a step back, putting more space between you.

“I just... wasn’t expecting it.” you admitted, your voice softer now. “I guess I should do more reading on the script before I say yes. But then again, we were together before this. I would have thought differently if we were….”

You stopped yourself from saying anything. You sighed as you took the script back from him, not looking at him. You fumble through the script once again, stopping at where you were reading earlier. For a moment, Toji didn’t respond. He simply watched you, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded.

“Neither was I. But maybe it’s a good thing.”

You frowned. “How could this possibly be a good thing?”

“Because….” he said, his voice quiet but steady. “If we can get through this, we can get through anything else this job throws at us.”

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond to him whatsoever. There was a sincerity in his tone that caught you off guard, a reminder of the man you used to know, a man you once loved—the one who could somehow say the exact thing you needed to hear, even when you didn’t want to hear it.

“Let’s just get it over with.” you muttered finally, turning away to avoid meeting his gaze. You hoped the words would end the conversation, but Toji, ever persistent, wasn’t ready to let it drop. “As soon as possible.”

“Are we going to rehearse—”

“We are not going to rehearse kissing.” you interrupted sharply, spinning back toward him with a pointed glare before he could finish the thought.

He blinked, momentarily startled by your tone, then raised his hands in a mock gesture of surrender. “Okay, okay. No rehearsing. he said, his voice calm but edged with a hint of amusement. “I wasn’t going to push it.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, still skeptical. “I mean it. We know how to kiss for work. It’s technical, not personal. We’ll hit our marks, make it look convincing, and that’s it.”

“Got it.” he replied, his tone unreadable. But the faint twitch of a smirk at the corner of his mouth betrayed him, and it made your chest tighten with a mix of irritation and something far more complicated.

“I’m serious, Toji.” you added, folding your arms across your chest. “This doesn’t have to be a thing. Let’s just focus on the scene and move on.”

He tilted his head, his gaze softening just slightly. “I know. I’m not trying to make it a thing, I promise.” he said quietly. “But it’s not like we can pretend it doesn’t feel... different.”

You froze, his words hitting you harder than you expected. Different. Of course, it felt different. How could it not? You had kissed him before, really kissed him. Many countless times in another life, when things had been simpler, when you weren’t standing on opposite sides of an invisible wall you’d both helped build.

But you couldn’t let yourself dwell on that now. Shaking your head, you turned back toward the set. “It doesn’t matter.” you said, more to yourself than to him. “It’s just a scene, Toji. That’s all it is.”

You didn’t wait for his response as you walked away, but you felt the weight of his gaze on your back, heavy and lingering. And as much as you tried to push it down, you couldn’t shake the sense that, for Toji, it might not be just a scene after all. You looked for your manager.

You needed to get that coffee from her as soon as possible.

And perhaps, a donut. You need enough sugar to get through the day.

And so you let hours pass by, trying to get the idea of the kiss off your mind. You were not going to think about it until you had to. That’s what you tell yourself. But you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

How will it happen? How will you end up lasting with how he would touch you? How could you keep this professional? You shook your head. You hated how much you were getting too into this.

When you finally make it off to set once again, you find yourself overwhelmed already. After going through the worst of thoughts while on the makeup chair, you couldn’t help but feel even worse here.

The set was quiet as the crew adjusted the lights and cameras for the upcoming scene. You stood off to the side, arms crossed, your script clutched tightly in one hand. The weight of what was about to happen pressed on you like a physical force, making it hard to breathe.

Toji was across the room, leaning casually against a prop table as the makeup artist gave him a last touch-up. He looked calm. Too calm, like this was just another day, another scene. Like there was nothing to freak out about. It irritated you. How could he be so composed when every nerve in your body felt like it was on edge?

Soon enough, the director called for everyone to take their places. You moved to your mark, heart pounding. Fushiguro Toji approached, his steps measured, his expression unreadable. The tension between you thickened as the cameras rolled into position, and the director gave the signal to begin.

The scene started smoothly enough. The dialogue flowed naturally, your voices blending together in a rhythm you had mastered over weeks of working together. But as the emotional intensity of the scene built, you felt the lines between acting and reality begin to blur.

“That’s all you ever do, isn’t it?” you said, your voice trembling with both your character’s anger and something far more personal. “You push people away the second they get too close. You think it’s easier to walk away than to face what you’ve done.”

Toji stepped closer, his character’s frustration mirroring something unspoken in his own eyes. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” he shot back, his voice low, dangerous. “You don’t know what it’s like to carry this kind of weight.”

“I don’t know?” you snapped, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “Don’t you dare tell me I don’t know, because I was there. I was always there.”

The director hadn’t called the cut, so you kept going, even though your hands were trembling and your breath was coming faster than it should have been. Toji’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, you thought he might break character. But then he stepped even closer, closing the gap between you.

And then it happened as naturally as breathing —the kiss.

It started the way it was supposed to, his hands lightly brushing against your arms as he leaned in, his lips meeting yours with the perfect mix of tension and tenderness. But as the seconds ticked by, something shifted. The scene was supposed to end with a brief, restrained kiss. I twas just enough to convey the characters’ unresolved feelings. But Toji didn’t pull back, and neither did you.

Instead, the kiss deepened even more, the intensity between you igniting like a spark meeting gasoline. Fire blossoming in the spark of that gasoline, over and over as you both push and pull.

His hand moved to cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing your cheek in a way that felt far too familiar, far too real. Your hands, which were meant to stay at your sides, found their way to his chest, clutching the fabric of his shirt as if you were anchoring yourself to him.

The room around you faded from your reality. The set, the cameras, the crew—it all disappeared as the kiss pulled you under, dredging up emotions you thought you’d buried. Pain, longing, regret. All of it crashed over you in an overwhelming wave, pushing and pulling you towards him.

“Cut!” the director finally called, his voice sharp enough to break through the haze.

You and Toji finally let loose and separated abruptly, both of you breathing hard. The room was silent except for the faint hum of the equipment and the muffled sounds of crew members shuffling around. No one said anything, but the charged atmosphere was impossible to ignore.

The director, who had been watching the monitors intently, clapped his hands together. “That was… intense.” he said, nodding approvingly. “Let’s reset and do one more take.”

You couldn’t meet anyone’s gaze, least of all Toji’s, as you stepped back to your mark. Your lips still tingled, and your heart felt like it was trying to beat its way out of your chest. As the crew moved around you, resetting for the next take,

Toji leaned in close, his voice low so only you could hear. “You okay?”

You nodded stiffly, refusing to look at him. “I’m fine.”

But you weren’t. And as you prepared to shoot the scene again, you couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever had just happened wasn’t just acting—it was something far more dangerous. Many things were pushing through your mind over and over again. Things you shouldn’t think about. People you shouldn’t think about.

You touch your lips, before stopping and closing your eyes to take a breath. Toji was still looking at you, as though trying to make sure you were alright. But you couldn’t be coherent, you couldn’t think straight. Not when his lips tasted like forbidden fruit, from paradise, from heaven.

The moment the director called for another take, you felt your chest constrict. You couldn’t do it again—not right away, not with how raw everything felt. Your hands were trembling, your head spinning, and your heart still hadn’t slowed from the intensity of the scene—or the kiss.

“I need a break, director.” you muttered, barely audible, before turning and walking off set without waiting for a response. “Please….I…”

You started to move before you could register it. You ignored the crew members and assistants milling about, their curious glances following you as you navigated through the maze of equipment and props.

You didn’t stop until you found a quiet corner near the back of the lot, where the noise of the set faded into a distant hum. Leaning against a wall, you exhaled shakily, pressing your hands against your temples as you tried to steady yourself.

You didn’t hear him approach, but you felt his presence before he spoke.

“Hey.” Toji’s voice was soft but steady, cutting through the silence.

You stiffened, not turning around. “I just need a minute.”

“I know that.” he replied, his tone careful, as though he were trying not to spook you. “I just… wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

You scoffed, your laugh bitter and hollow. “Why do you care if I’m okay?”

His footsteps grew closer until he was standing just a few feet away. “Because I do.” he said simply. “I always have. You know that.”

You spun around to face him, your frustration bubbling over. “You don’t get to do that, Toji. You don’t get to pretend like everything’s fine, like you care, after everything—”

“I’m not pretending!” he interrupted, his voice rising just enough to cut you off. His jaw was tight, his expression pained. “You think this is easy for me? You think I wanted any of this to happen?”

“You walked away, Toji.” you shot back, your voice shaking. “You made your choice. And now you’re acting like—like—”

“Like what?” he challenged, stepping closer. “Like I regret it? Because I do. I regret everything, alright? But I can’t change the past. I can’t undo what I did. All I can do is try to…” He trailed off, his fists clenching at his sides.

“Try to do what?” you demanded, your own anger simmering beneath the surface. “Make yourself feel better? Redeem yourself? Because that’s not how it works, Toji. You don’t just get to show up and act like we can fix this with one stupid kiss!”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do.” he said, his voice softening, though the intensity in his eyes didn’t waver. “I just… I miss you.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. You wanted to look away from him, but you can’t. How could you, when he was looking at you like that? Like he still sees you to be the only one for him. Like he still loves you most in this world.

“Toji…” you started, but your voice cracked, and you couldn’t finish the sentence.

His gaze flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes, his expression torn. “Tell me to stop.” he murmured, taking another step forward. “If you don’t want this, just say the word, and I’ll walk away.”

You wanted to say it. No, you wanted to scream at him. You wanted to push him away and shove him and be angry with him, to tell him that you were done, that the past was the past and there was no going back. That you do not love him anymore. But the words wouldn’t come.

Instead, when he closed the distance between you, cupping your face with his hands, you didn’t pull away. His lips found yours, and the kiss was nothing like the one on set. It was desperate and unguarded, filled with all the things neither of you had been able to say.

Your hands clung to the fabric of his shirt, almost as if you needed the physical contact to ground yourself. The kiss deepened as your body pressed against his, the tension between you both crackling in the space that had once been filled with affection and now was choked with pain and unresolved emotion. His lips were insistent, hungry in a way that told you just how long he had been holding this back. The rawness of it, the desperation, sent a shiver down your spine.

His hands moved to the back of your neck, his fingers curling into your hair as if he were afraid you’d slip away again. When you finally broke apart, gasping for air, both of you stood there, forehead to forehead, your breaths heavy and unsteady. The world around you was a distant blur, and all that mattered was the way his chest rose and fell against yours.

The silence was suffocating, yet neither of you moved to speak. You couldn’t find the words, couldn’t find the strength to pull away from him again. He, too, seemed frozen in the moment, as if this brief touch of something real had left him equally shaken. But then, before you could fully collect yourself, he pulled you even closer. His body heat, his scent, enveloping you in the tight space between you.

Your eyes met once more. This time, there was no confusion, no uncertainty. The vulnerability in his gaze mirrored your own, and for just a heartbeat, you both let the walls crumble just enough to see each other for what you were—people who had been broken, but still searching for something to hold on to.

And then, his lips were on yours again, more forceful this time, as though he couldn’t hold back any longer, as though the weight of everything between you was too much to bear in silence. You didn’t pull away. You couldn’t.

The emotions inside you were tangled, each one vying for dominance. Hurt, longing, anger, and something deeper. A desperate need to feel something other than the emptiness that had been haunting you both for months.

His hands slid lower, tracing the line of your back, and you gasped against his mouth as your body pressed into his more firmly. It felt dangerous, reckless, but in that moment, you didn’t care. There was something that felt like freedom in this chaotic, emotional storm that you both had been trying so hard to avoid.

But it wasn’t just about the kiss. It was about everything that led to this point. The unfinished conversations, the words you both kept swallowing, the feelings you couldn’t express. His lips softened against yours for just a moment before he pulled back slightly, his face inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“I don’t know how to fix this.” he murmured, his voice rough, laden with frustration. "But I need you to know... I never stopped caring."

Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat ringing in your ears. You swallowed hard, blinking away the tears threatening to fall. "Then why did you leave?" you whispered, barely able to keep your voice steady.

His eyes darkened, his face tightening with regret. “Because I was scared,” he said, the words slow, deliberate. “I thought I could push it all down, but it just… it just made everything worse.”

You could feel his hands trembling against your back, his words raw with honesty. And for a moment, you let the weight of that honesty sink in.

“I don’t know what this is,” you whispered, your voice breaking as you fought the lump in your throat. “But I can’t pretend it doesn’t hurt.”

Toji’s thumb brushed over your cheek, and you could feel the conflict in him—he wanted to comfort you, to make things right, but you both knew there were no easy fixes, no simple words that could undo the damage done.

“I know,” he said softly, his voice full of sorrow. “I know, but I’ll be here. I’ll be here until you decide if you want to give me a chance to make it right.”

Your eyes fluttered closed as you rested your forehead against his, the exhaustion of the emotional rollercoaster threatening to overtake you. You weren’t sure what this meant, what the future held, but in that moment, you allowed yourself to feel it.

The rawness, the tension, the connection. The kiss wasn’t just a kiss—it was a fragile promise, a silent acknowledgment that, despite everything, there was still something worth fighting for between you.

But you both knew that this wasn’t the end. It was only the beginning of something uncertain, something that would require more than a kiss to fix. But for now, you didn’t need answers. You just needed this. This seesaw game.

The more you were on this seesaw, the more you got to him. The more he’s here with you, locked in this cage of your own toxic desires. His touch, his presence, and the understanding that, for the first time in a long while, maybe you weren’t as alone as you thought.

“This doesn’t change anything.” you whispered, though your voice lacked conviction.

“I know.” he said softly. “But it doesn’t mean I’ll stop trying.”

You closed your eyes, trying to block out the rush of emotions flooding through you, but it was no use. Whatever had just happened, whatever this was. It wasn’t over. And you weren’t sure if that terrified you or gave you hope. Because it means you were no better. Your resolve crumbled so easily. How could you, when it was him?

“We have to go back to the set.” You whispered to him.

“Let them wait.” He whispers back to you, his breath hot against you.

That’s how you ended up back in his trailer, under him just like you had been six months ago. You had all but abandoned everything outside the door. From your mic packs left on that corner wall a few meters away, to the costume clothes left on the fridges of the trailer door.

Your lips echoed loud moaning ripples that could embarrass you had you cared enough for it at that moment. But you didn’t. All you cared about was the pleasure of being underneath him, being choked by his figure pressed against you as you squirm over and over again with the breath you didn’t have against his firm grasp.

All you could do was wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to where the sweat and the drool mixed onto you over and over again. With every tug to pull him closer, you found yourself being pummeled with his member deeper over and over again — taking away the dry spell that had kept your resolve for the past six months.

You could feel him burn you inside, searing you whole with the sheer size of him, taking over every inch of your crevices as though it belonged there. As though all of you were made for all of him.

You couldn’t help but release another moan, feeling your insides close against him, as your inner thighs quivered against the side of his waist repeatedly. The force of his thrusts were so strong that you were sure the bed was going to break.

His fingerprints were being engraved against your thighs with the way he pushes against your flesh, keeping you intertwined in this vicious downfall with him. Toji couldn’t help but laugh as he pressed closer against your body, the build of his cock sliding through your tummy and he could feel it. He felt proud of it. No one knew how to make you feel this electrifying feeling of being alive the way he could. No one else. And you knew that too well.

Calluses started to form on your reddening skin, pelted with golden sweat as he pulled in and out of you with the speed of a thunderstrike. One moment he’s into the point you could feel him down your throat choking and the next, it felt like you were freed from the vestiges of being full of everything heavy, only to feel so empty that you long for him to choke you whole with his cock.

And he does. Repeatedly. Over and over again, until you are on the verge of tears you know you shed because of the pleasure you succumb to, to your shame. To your love, to your desires. To him. No, for him.

Because you knew, no one else can love you like this. No one else can make a mess of you like this. No one else can make you feel so whole and broken all at once that it breaks you into many pieces.

You found yourself clawing at his back, successive moans with your breaking tone sounding like music to his ears. He hums in acceptance of the pain, trying to keep his composure as your nails bring blood streaming down his back. You move slowly to bite his shoulder, deep and whole and raw. You find him grunting slowly at the pain of it. You dug so deep that you knew you also drew blood there too.

You find him accepting it knowing that this is your love. This is the love that you have for him. And it will never change anymore. You wanted to love him and love him to the point he hurts. You want him to hurt. You want him to cry. You want him to bleed. Because how dare he make love to you, knowing you didn’t want to be hurt by loving him?

“I hate you.” You cry to him, his blood metallic in your tongue. You cry again, in between your incoherent moans. “I hate you more than anything in the world.”

“I love you.” He whispers to you over and over again, digging deeper into you that he has carved a home in you. “I love you. More than anything. More than life itself.”

You cry at his words. Because you knew they were true. You knew that he does love you. And yet you don’t want to be with him. You don’t want to let him back in. But he is here, with you. He is you, in you. He was everything that encompasses you. He was your first love. He was your first everything. And you can’t take it back. You can’t unlove him, even for your own good. Not even if the heavens wanted you to.

Toji couldn’t help but snarl as he pushes deeper and deeper, his sound animalistic and raw. He was close. You know this too well, once he stops talking. He devotes himself to the task. He pushes through over and over, the beckoning of his thrusts growing more erratic as he nears his peak.

But you knew him too well. He never comes inside of you without making sure you get your fill first. His long fingers reach down to where you're joined, finding your clit and rubbing in tight circles that send jolts of electricity shooting up your spine.

“T–toji!” You cry out loud, arching deeper into his touch as the pleasure coiling on your belly echoing over and over. You could feel his fingers work you perfectly, expertly as he pushes through over and over as he pushes his masterful fingers and his thrusting hips. “I….I’m….I’m close!”

"That's it, baby. Come for me too." he coaxes, his voice a low rasp in your ear. "Let me feel this pretty pussy squeeze the cum out of me."

He only gets this way when he finds himself close, his words disappearing into the reality of pleasure with you. You push against him, throwing your head back against the pillows. You shatter with a keening moan, your walls clamping down around Toji’s shaft as ecstasy crashes over you in waves.

He follows moments later with a guttural groan, pumping you full of his hot seed. You were shaking as you cling to him tightly, mewling softly against his shoulder blades. You could feel his body heavier against you as you both rode out the aftershocks, still gasping and twitching with the intensity of your shared climax.

As the fog of passion clears, you slowly come back to yourself, awareness returning in increments. You purse your lips as he presses kisses against your neck and then your jaw and then your cheeks. The warmth of his seed seeping off you as your hands loosen their hold on his body.

“We can’t do this again.” You whisper to him exhaustedly.

“I know.” He whispers back to you, his eyes shot with the look of love. Or was it lust? You could not tell. “I know.”

But you knew you were both lying to yourselves.

He was going to come back again and again.

And you would let him in, just as you had now.

══════════════════

YOU HAD SAID YOU DIDN’T WANT TO PARTICIPATE IN ANY PRESS TOURS. It had taken a while before you had even budged to the demands of the director. But you knew that you couldn’t admit that to be a resolve without the act. All Toji had to do was ask you, in his own way and you knew you would say yes. And you hated that it was the case.

As the lights of the red carpet flickered around you, you smiled, the cameras flashing as you and Fushiguro Toji posed side by side. His presence, tall and imposing, was the perfect foil to your poised elegance, but inside, you felt something altogether different. It was truly a quiet storm of conflicting emotions that you could barely contain.

The interviewer, enthusiastic and bright-eyed, approached you both with a microphone. “You two are the talk of the town! After months of speculation, you’ve finally confirmed your relationship with that press announcement. How does it feel to have it all out in the open?”

You met the interviewer’s gaze, your smile steady, though you could feel the weight of the question pressing against your chest. You exchanged a brief glance with Toji, his expression unreadable. He gave a small nod, as if reassuring you to continue, but you knew the truth—there was nothing to reassure, nothing to calm.

“We’re happy to finally share our truth, really.” you said, your voice smooth, practiced, like you were reading from a script. "It's been an incredible journey, and we're excited for what's next, both in our professional and personal lives."

The interviewer’s smile widened, practically giddy with excitement. “It’s clear that you two are truly in love! Your chemistry on and off-screen is undeniable. Toji, how does it feel to have such an amazing partner by your side?”

Toji’s lips quivered into a half-smile, a hint of something unreadable in his eyes. “It feels like a new chapter, honestly. I’ve always admired her strength, her talent. She’s someone who challenges me, changes me, in ways I didn’t expect. I think that’s what makes it work.”

The words were kind, but you heard the undertone. You knew what it was. It was the unspoken acknowledgment of the past. The past you’d both tried to bury under layers of public appearances, press releases, and carefully crafted smiles. The past you had come to hate with all your hatred.

What had started as something deeply painful had morphed into something else entirely, something you didn’t quite understand but couldn’t escape. This was a gilded cage that you had allowed him to trap you in.

One that you couldn’t escape. That’s why you were here, standing next to him, because you couldn’t tear yourself away. You couldn’t fly away. Even when you hated him. Even when you knew better.

You felt the interviewer’s eyes shift back to you, awaiting a response, her curiosity piqued. "And for you, how does it feel to have him by your side now, after everything you've been through?"

Your chest tightened. The words to explain your truth were there, just beneath the surface, but they never quite made it to your lips. You gave another practiced smile, masking the turmoil that churned inside you.

"It’s complicated, yeah." you said carefully, choosing your words with precision. "We’ve both had our struggles, but that’s part of growth. That’s a lot of work, to make it all go smoothly. We’ve learned a lot from each other. And we’re both better for it."

The words hung in the air, a soft veil of politeness that couldn’t hide the undercurrent of something darker. The toxic bond, the cycle of love and hate, of pain and yearning. You hated that you were still here. You hated that you could never quite leave him, no matter how much you should. And yet, there was no escaping the pull. Not now. Not after everything.

The interviewer beamed, satisfied with your answer, but all you could do was nod politely, your gaze flickering to Toji again. The smile he gave you was the same one you had seen countless times before, the one that made your heart ache, the one that made you question everything about who you were, about who you were becoming.

You knew you should’ve been stronger. You knew you should’ve walked away a long time ago. But here you were, caught in the web you had spun and truly hated it. You hated him, but you still stayed. You knew, deep down, that this was your reality now.

Your love for him would never be pure. It would never be something that anyone deserves to have. It was not worth living a life of destitution and desperation. And yet, it was what you had. It would never be easy, it would never be anything other than toxic.. It would always be tangled up in mistakes, in forgiveness, in betrayal, in passion.

And so you stayed.

Because even if he would hurt you, even if you would hurt him, this was the life you had chosen. You had crossed that line long ago, and now, there was no going back. There was no way to escape the chaotic love you shared. It would make you happy. It would make you miserable. It would always be the same, because it had always been this way, and maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

For better or for worse.

For the horrid to the frigid.

You both were toxic till the end.

The moment you stepped inside the theater, the noise of the red carpet event faded into a dull hum, replaced by the quiet buzz of the room. The lights overhead gleamed off the polished surfaces, casting long shadows over the seats where the audience had yet to arrive.

Fushiguro Toji walked beside you, his presence commanding and strong, but the usual ease between you felt heavier now, charged with a tension neither of you had addressed since the interview. Since you were now a couple in the public hemisphere. And he was too aware of it all.

As you made your way toward the dressing room, you felt the weight of his blue–green gaze on you, sharp and searching, as if he was trying to decipher something in your posture, in the way you carried yourself. You ignored it, pretending to focus on the steps ahead, the noise of your heels clicking against the floor, the rhythm of your breath.

When you reached the door, you paused for a moment, the cold handle beneath your fingers reminding you of the distance that had always existed between you and Toji, even when you were close, even when you thought you understood each other. Even when you were now stuck in this disturbed romance.

The room was empty except for the faint scent of makeup and old costumes, a reminder of the countless times you’d shared similar spaces before everything had unraveled. Toji followed you inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click. His footsteps were quieter now, the usual swagger in his walk subdued, but his presence still loomed larger than life.

You didn’t turn to face him immediately, choosing instead to adjust your dress in front of the mirror. The reflection staring back at you seemed almost foreign—perfectly poised, with a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. Not fully. And you didn’t know when that would ever happen again.

“You okay?” Toji’s voice was low, cautious, as though he wasn’t sure whether to press you or give you space.

You met his gaze in the mirror, seeing the uncertainty there. It made something inside you tighten, but you refused to show it. “I’m fine, don’t worry.” you said, though the words felt empty as they left your mouth. “It’s just... another night, another show.”

Toji stepped closer, his reflection merging with yours in the glass. “You don’t have to pretend, you know.” he said softly, his tone edging with a familiar vulnerability that made your chest tighten. “You don’t have to say everything’s fine when it’s not, babe.”

For a moment, you thought you might turn to him, reach out for him, let the rawness of it all spill over. But then you remembered the cameras, the words you’d both spoken on the carpet. The image you were meant to present. The lies you’d wrapped yourselves in, hoping no one would see the truth beneath.

“I’m not pretending.” you replied, a little too quickly. You broke your gaze with the mirror and turned to face him now, your eyes narrowing as if daring him to say something more. “What’s the point? Everyone’s watching, Toji. Everyone’s waiting to see if we’re going to fall apart, if we’re going to crack under the weight of it all. So why give them the satisfaction?”

Toji didn’t flinch at your sharp words. Instead, he took a step closer, his eyes softening, his voice quieter. “Maybe I’m tired of pretending too. Maybe I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

You shook your head, stepping back from him, though your heart thundered in your chest. “It’s too late for that. It’s too late for us, for anything real. We’ve already made our choices, Toji. This….whatever this is—this is just for show. This is what we have now. This is what we’re stuck with. And you know what the root cause was.”

For a brief moment, silence hung in the air, thick and oppressive, before Toji took a step forward, his hand reaching out to gently grasp your wrist, stopping you from retreating further. His touch was steady, but there was a deep sadness in his eyes, something that you could feel without needing to see it.

“I don’t want to lose you.” he said, his voice tight with emotion. “I never wanted to hurt you. I know I did, but I swear, I’m trying to fix it. I’m trying to fix us.”

You looked at his hand on your wrist, the heat of it seeping into your skin, and for a moment, you wondered if you could believe him. But then reality crashed back in, the weight of everything you’d been through. His betrayal, your own resentment, the lies you told yourselves about what you were.

“I don’t know if I can trust you again, Toji.” you whispered, your voice shaky, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t allowed yourself to be before. “I don’t know if I can forgive you.”

He watches as you halted, taking a moment to gather yourself. Before you looked at him again. “But god, we are just miserable with and without each other. Nothing changes. And yet here we are.”

His grip tightened ever so slightly, as if pleading for you to see something, anything, in him that might make a difference. “I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that I can earn that trust back. If you’ll let me.”

The words hung in the air, suspended between you, as the unspoken tension between you both remained unresolved. There was a part of you that wanted to believe him, that wanted to give in, to fall into the comfort of what you once had. But there was another part of you, the part that had learned from the mistakes, the hurt, that knew better.

“I don’t know.” you said quietly, pulling your wrist free from his grasp. “But I’m not the person I was before, and neither are you. So maybe we just need to accept that.”

Toji’s eyes dropped for a moment, the weight of your words clearly sinking in. He didn’t argue. He didn’t try to change your mind. Instead, he nodded, as if acknowledging the truth you both shared, no matter how painful it was.

“I don’t want to lose you.” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

But this time, there was no more fight left in you to give.

The words hung between you both, unresolved.

And for the first time, you wondered if you ever could let him go.

You wondered if you both would ever be free from each other.

Yet you knew that was wishful thinking, you knew that was a dream.

“You don’t have to worry.” You whispered back to him. “I’m not going anywhere….But you already knew that. Didn’t you?”

404 notes · View notes

violentdelightsandviolentends · 6 months ago

Note

hey it's me again hi !! i was thinking about rupert campbell black in a secret relationship with younger!reader who's an actress and she's known as the good girl of uk's cinema like well mannered never partied much such a sweetheart to everyone and so so talented. also very private about her personal life, never had any scandal at all but then pap pics of her and rupert together (kissing etc) come out and it's all over the newspapers and tv. and everyone goes crazy because he's not exactly the type of guy they expected her to go for and she's so scared of the public's opinion idk ...

thank you <33

Golden Girl.

after years of keeping your private life private, everybody’s suddenly talking about your new boyfriend. when it rains, it pours.

rupert campbell black x female reader

warnings - cursing. age gap. reader is a ball of anxiety. discussions of the british media (which needs its own warning).

word count - 3k

authors note - banger after banger, erica. I had immediate inspiration when I read this request, so thank you!! I could kiss you. i’ll let rupert kiss you instead. mwah.

masterlist. inbox.

The first thing you do when you see Rupert Campbell Black is smack him square across the face as hard as you can.

“What the fuck was that for?”

His hand flies up to his cheek, jaw flexing as he tries to breathe through the sting of the impact.

“You said we’d be fine!”

“Darling… what?”

His confusion is so genuine that it only makes you angrier, ready to hit him again right here on his front step.

“You said we’d be fine, remember? You said it was a friend’s pub, that you’d never ever been photographed there, that we were safe from prying eyes. You said we’d be fine, Rupert. Does this look like fine to you?”

You slap the newspaper onto his chest with slightly more force than necessary, almost knocking him backwards. He stares at the cover for a moment that seems to stretch on forever, reading the headline again and again and again.

Nation’s Sweetheart Caught With Serial Love Rat!

There’s a huge picture on the front page of the two of you, blown up and magnified. Rupert has his arms wrapped around your back, kissing you like his life depends on it. You’re kissing him back with just as much passion, hands tangled in his hair as you pull him closer, bodies plastered together.

There’s no denying it’s you. There’s no denying it’s him.

“Look at us, Rupert. Clear as day.”

“Well, fuck.”

You look at him incredulously, shaking your head in disbelief.

“That’s what you have to say? You’ve potentially ruined my career, and that’s what you have to say?”

“Darling, no one has ruined your career. You’ll be alright. You know what the newspapers are like - they’ll forget about this in a week, or when a juicier story comes along.”

“No, Rupert. You don’t understand. God, I knew you wouldn’t.”

There’s a lump in your throat that you’re trying to swallow down, tears welling in your eyes. You’re determined not to stand here and cry on Rupert’s driveway at six in the morning, but it’s becoming increasingly difficult.

“I’m still confused, sweetheart. You’ve been on the front page of the newspaper dozens of times, haven’t you? It’s no big deal. It’s bound to happen with a job like yours.”

“You’re not listening to me! You don’t get it, and you know what… maybe you never will.”

Your cheeks are wet suddenly, emotions bubbling to the surface unwittingly. Turning on your heel, you storm off, tired of trying to get him to see your point of view when he clearly can’t. You’re halfway across the huge expanse of driveway when fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you backwards.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he pants, perplexed. “You can’t leave until we’ve talked about this. I’m not letting you go home upset.”

“I’m an idiot,” you sob, trying to wrench your arm away from his grip. “Everyone warned me. What did I think would happen?”

“Darling, you need to stop speaking in riddles and just talk to me straight. Explain to me what I’m missing here, because clearly I don’t understand. But I want to. God, I so badly want to.”

You stand and stare at him for a moment, trying to decipher if he’s telling the truth. He’s looking at you with nothing but distress in his eyes, desperation written all over his face.

“Please,” he whispers, the final nail in the coffin.

You’re throwing yourself forward into Rupert’s arms before you can think twice about it, tucking into his chest and breathing him in. He holds you as tightly as he can, murmuring sweet nothings into your hair as he soothes you.

Pulling away and wiping your eyes, you inhale deeply, trying to calm yourself down so you can talk to each other properly. You wander across the driveway and towards the house, sitting down on his stone front step. There’s something in you that doesn’t want to go inside, knowing that the familiar comfort of his home will only make you cry harder.

Rupert sits down next to you, his hand settling on your knee. The heavy weight of it helps to settle your nerves, the warmth of his palm seeping into your skin.

“We’re very different, you and I. I always knew that, it’s strikingly obvious,” you begin, staring out into the rolling gardens of his property. “We’ve each got our own reputations, that are arguably on completely polar opposite ends of the spectrum.”

“Are you calling me a bad boy?”

“Yes,” you chuckle, matching his smirk. “You are. But you know that. That’s your entire public image - notorious ladies man, badly behaved but charming enough to get away with it.”

“It’s carefully crafted,” he grins, bumping his shoulder into yours. “Not everyone can do what I do, though God knows they try.”

“Anyway. My reputation is entirely based on being the UK’s golden girl. That is literally what they call me. Golden Girl.”

“I’m aware.”

“Good. They love me, Rupert. Everything I do, they romanticise it. I went to that premiere on Saturday night - for a film that I wasn’t even in, mind you - and on Monday morning I was on the front pages of the newspapers. Golden Girl Dazzles in Sparkling Silver was the headline of The Telegraph. Golden Girl Shines Like A Diamond from The Guardian. The Sun, The Mirror, The Daily Star… all of them had a huge picture of me in my ballgown on the front page.”

“Because you are a star.”

“Exactly. The entire British public idolises me. I am this perfect woman to them - innocent, untroubled, well mannered. I don’t party hard, I don’t sleep with the entire film industry, I don’t ever turn up looking less than put together. I’m perfect.”

“And so humble.”

“No, Rupert. Jesus Christ,” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I don’t think I’m perfect. They do. And I have worked hard to keep that image intact, because that image gets me roles in the biggest films of the year, every year.”

“And I don’t fit with that image.”

“You’re a rebel. You’re tongue in cheek, you’re not afraid to speak your mind, you’re brutally honest. You drink, you sleep with beautiful women, you turn up to Parliament hungover and in last nights clothes. And people love you for it. Well… most people.”

He laughs, shaking his head at the psychoanalysis.

“We have our public images that work for us, Rupert. And it just so happens that they don’t fit with each others at all. Well, I fit yours, but you don’t fit mine.”

“Do you think everyone is up in arms because you’re dating me, or because you’re dating in general? You’ve never had a public boyfriend before. Maybe the people feel like you’ve betrayed them.”

“I do think that’s a part of it. It also just doesn’t help that it’s you.”

“Ouch. No offence taken.”

You roll your eyes at him, placing your hand over his where it rests on your knee still.

“Just being honest, Rupert. Taking a leaf out of your book, you know.”

He chuckles all warm and soft before leaning in to press a kiss to your temple, shuffling over so his side is pressed into yours. You both gaze out over the vast expanse of his gardens, looking over to the fields where the horses graze when they whinny.

“Is this a choice for you?”

When you look at him with confusion written across your face, he continues.

“Do you have to choose? Between me and your public image? Or can they coexist?”

“…I don’t know. I mean, they can’t coexist, clearly,” you gesture towards the discarded newspaper on the ground at your feet. “It’d be a sacrifice for me. I’d have to become a completely new person, adjust this persona that they’ve created in the media. I’m not a Golden Girl - I have flaws just like anyone else. But obviously, flawed doesn’t sell films. Gold does.”

“They wouldn’t have to know. We could make sure that we’re never seen together, never photographed again. It could be our secret.”

Your heart constricts at his tone of voice. He sounds like he’s bargaining, borderline pleading that you don’t walk away.

“We both know deep down that wouldn’t work. That’s what we tried - and what put us in this situation. Nothing stays a secret for long, not with the British media.”

“Well then we embrace it. Say yes, we’re together, and we’re happy.”

“And the minute we break up, they all say I told you so on the front pages, and my image is ruined forever.”

The man next to you flinches as if you’ve hit him again, body tensing up where it presses into yours.

“The minute we break up?”

“Rupert.”

“No, darling. Is that what this is? You had one foot out the door already, and this is just good reason to make it two?”

He stands up abruptly, pacing back and forth anxiously. The gravel crunches under his feet, the only sound that can be heard besides the birds chirping as they wake.

“I know what you’re like,” you say quietly. “Every time you’re on the front page of a newspaper it’s because you’ve been spotted with a new woman. I’m under no illusions - I’m not special, and I’m not different. I like you a lot, I have since the minute I met you. But I’m not stupid.”

“Is this in regards to the interview my ex wife did a few weeks ago?”

“She said she thought that she’d be it for you, Rupert. That she’d be the one to change you, that you’d finally settle down and put your party boy days behind you. And she did have that, for six whole years. Until… she didn’t.”

“So what, I can never change? Every woman I ever date is just waiting for me to fuck it up with her?”

You stand up now so you’re on the same level, not enjoying being sat beneath him while his voice raises.

“You have a reputation! You’re not oblivious to it and neither am I. Every single woman thinks that she’ll be the one, that she’ll change you and tame you and settle you down. And every single woman so far has been wrong. What makes me different? What makes me special? What makes me the exception?”

“You really don’t know?”

“What?”

Rupert takes a deep breath, striding across the driveway so he’s stood in front of you, towering and strong.

“I love you.”

You sway backwards as you struggle to stay steady on your feet, the weight of the words knocking you over.

“You… what?”

“I’m in love with you, darling.”

“Are you?” you whisper, conflicted. “Do you say this to all of them?”

He sweeps your face into his big hands, cradling your cheeks as he forces you to look up at him.

“No. This… this never happens. That’s why I’m fighting so hard for you. I have never wanted something to work as badly as this.”

“I’m not trying to paint you as a villain,” you say lowly. “But how am I supposed to know that this isn’t the speech that you’ve given a dozen women before me? You can understand where I’m coming from, can’t you?”

“Of course I can. And I’m kicking myself, because it’s my own fault that you don’t believe me when I tell you these things. My reputation has done irreparable damage to relationships in my life.”

He leans in to rest his forehead on yours, breathing each other in for a moment.

“Rupert.”

“Darling… we’ve been speaking on my driveway for an hour. You knocked on my door at six o’clock in the morning and smacked me in the face. And I am still here. I’m trying to show you that I am going to fight for this. For you. For us.”

“I don’t know what to do,” you confess gently. “I just want to curl up into a ball and cry.”

“The only thing you can do is trust me, I suppose. Trust that I won’t let you down, trust that I’ll look after you, trust that I mean it when I say that you’re it for me.”

“I want to. I want to trust you.”

“I know. I can see you do.”

You wrap your arms around his middle, soaking in the warmth that’s radiating from him. He’s in his pyjama trousers and a t shirt, all soft and worn and threadbare, and you want to burrow yourself into it and stay there for as long as he’ll let you.

“Do you want to go inside?” he asks, all muffled into your hair.

“Not yet,” you mumble into his chest. “I like the fresh morning air. And listening to the birds.”

Rupert tightens his arms around you, one hand cradling the back of your head to keep you close to him. He keeps kissing the top of your head, wishing that he could accurately convey the way he feels in the words that you’ll believe.

“Darling… do you know how many women I’ve said I love you to in my life?”

You pull away to look at him, smiling when he intertwines his hand with yours so you don’t go far. You shake your head, waiting for him to carry on.

“Two.”

“… two?”

“Two.”

You think about this for a moment, studying the gravel beneath you. A finger hooks under your chin, forcing you to look into tender eyes.

“And do you know who they were?”

You shake your head once more.

“My mother and my grandmother.”

You don’t know what to say, taken aback by Rupert’s sudden vulnerability. You’ve opened up to each other many times in the past, but never quite like this. It feels like you’re baring your souls to each other in the morning light, raw and exposing and so, so beautiful.

“What about your ex wife? All your girlfriends?”

“Nope. Never said it to them.”

“You never told your ex wife you loved her? You were married for six years, Rupert. You had two kids.”

“I know that. She’d tell me she loved me, and then she’d ask ‘do you love me too?’ and I’d say ‘of course I do, you know I do.’ I never once said the words I love you to her. I couldn’t.”

“Why?”

“I thought it’d come with time. She said it to me quite quickly, quite early on in the relationship, so I thought I just wasn’t ready. I supposed that it’d come to me eventually. And it never did.”

“But you’re saying it to me.”

“I am,” he smiles, his gaze begging you to believe him. “You’re the only woman I have ever fallen in love with.”

“I remember the episode of Declan. When you said you’d never been in love.”

“Then I met you. And it all changed.”

A tear slips down your cheek as you look at him, his eyes full of hope and sadness in equal measure.

“I believe you,” you whisper. “And I trust you. I promise you, I trust you.”

Rupert leans in to kiss you, all soft and sweet and full of adoration. It’s the most tender kiss you’ve ever received, on screen or off. You’ll remember it forever.

“So what if they don’t have their Golden Girl anymore?” you grin when you pull away, sweeping your thumbs over his cheekbones. “We’ll just have to show them who we are. They’ll adjust.”

“They’ll take one look at us together all gorgeous on a red carpet and all will be forgotten. We’ll be the Couple of the Hour in no time, darling.”

“We do scrub up well.”

“Very well.”

You peck his lips once more before grabbing his hand tightly, interlinking your fingers.

“Can we go inside now?”

“Your palace awaits,” he chuckles, gesturing towards the house and pulling you along.

“Oh, Rupert?”

“Darling?”

You stop in your tracks, feeling the first rays of the days sun sparkle down onto your skin.

“I love you too.”

He looks at you for a long moment before barrelling into you, picking you up and spinning you around while you both laugh in utter joy.

“She loves me! Your Golden Girl loves me, ladies and gents!”

You’re shrieking, laughing so hard that you can’t breathe. He puts you down eventually, both of you stumbling towards the house with stars in your eyes.

“Sorry for smacking you earlier, by the way.”

“It’s alright,” he grins, slipping his hand into your back pocket. “It might just be the sexiest thing you’ve ever done.”

“You’re insufferable,” you chide, but you can’t wipe the beaming smile off your face.

You close the front door behind you, kneeling down to greet all of the dogs that come bounding out of the kitchen. Rupert watches you from across the hallway with the softest look on his face that you’ve ever seen.

“I’m insufferable, and you love me.”

“You’re insufferable. And I love you.”

you know what i’m gonna say… reblogs are gold dust, baby!! support your favourite writers and they’ll write more for you!! simple!!

457 notes · View notes

nxuvillette · 1 year ago

Text

“I PROMISE, IT WILL NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN.”

GENSHIN MEN COMFORTING YOU AFTER A FIGHT

synopsis: you and your boyfriend hardly ever fight, so what happens when you finally have one?

❥- including : tartaglia (childe), cyno, kaeya, wriothesley

❥- note : hi guys !! sorry if this post is kind of shit, i kind of rushed it. i hope you guys enjoy regardless <3 reblogs are appreciated !!

content warnings : sfw, fem!reader, ageless + blank blogs dni, angst, arguing, hurt with comfort, use of pet names (baby), fluff, dumb fights, lots and lots of fluff at the end.

♡ TARTAGLIA (CHILDE)

you and childe hadn’t spoken for much of the day, and this was due to an argument that happened between you two just before you sat down for some breakfast.

it was stupid, genuinely.

childe had completely misinterpreted something you had said that morning. you were talking about one of your friends and their relationship. for some reason, childe thought you were comparing your relationship to the one your friend had, and it made him question if he was doing enough to make you happy. one thing led to another, and the two of you bickered over the encounter. you tried to explain yourself, but your boyfriend, being the stubborn man he was, didn’t bother to listen and went off on his own accord.

you and childe hardly had any fights. they would usually resolve after an hour or two, but you hadn’t seen him all day. part of you began to grow worried from his sudden absence. did he go out and do something to hurt himself? was he with somebody else? no, there was no way childe would ever cheat on you. he didn’t even look in another woman’s direction when he saw you that day.

it wasn’t until sunset when childe had finally returned home to you. he had a few scrapes on his arms which seemed like they came from him battling another enemy, but regardless, he seemed to be in one piece. you were very relieved to see that he was fine. it made you run into his arms the moment he came into the door, which took your boyfriend by surprise. he was under the impression that you were still pissed off at him for the shit that he had pulled early on in the day. he knew he was wrong and he should have apologized, but he didn’t know how to put it into words. sometimes he wished he wasn’t so air headed.

his arm went around your waist, bringing your body closer to his. the smell of his skin made you calm down. “i thought something bad happened to you..” your eyes didn’t move from the floor.

childe could sense the worry that was in your voice. he shouldn’t have done that to you. he would never want to make you feel scared or put you under the idea that he would leave you. he wasn’t going to ever leave like that again, ever. “i’m sorry, baby..” he whispered, running his fingers along your backside. “i’m such an idiot.. i shouldn’t have said that shit. i love you way too much to hurt you..”

you lifted your head to meet his ocean blue eyes. he had this frown on his features. you could see how guilty he felt for putting you in such a position. no matter what, you would always be in love with childe. no small argument would make your feelings for him shift, ever. you knew he could be stubborn at times, and honestly, so could you. all that mattered to you in the end was that you two made up and forget the whole thing. “it’s okay.. i still love you, okay?” you smiled at him, which made his heart skip a beat.

childe couldn’t help but smile, too. he leaned towards you and planted a kiss on your lips. he didn’t ever want to see you frown again. he would do anything to see a smile on your pretty face. “let me make up for it.. how about we take a bath together, hm?” he questioned, raising his eyebrows.

you nodded your head. “sure..” you grinned.

♡ CYNO

you didn’t expect cyno to get upset earlier.

cyno was in a bit of a rush that afternoon. he had a lot of things to tend to as the mahamatra, so he typically had a busy schedule. at the time, you had no idea that he had to be somewhere at a certain hour, so when you saw your lover wandering around aaru village by himself, you decided to go and talk with him to ask how his day was.

he kept his responses to you a bit shorter than usual, but that’s how he usually was. cyno was more the type of man to listen more than he did talk, but the more you kept speaking, the more he grew somewhat irritated. he had to meet with candace and discuss something that had occurred on his way there. he had to return as quickly as possible, though, because there were several people who needed his help out there.

cyno had accidentally snapped at you, which in turn made you fire back at him.

it was very out of the ordinary for him to ever get angry with you. cyno was very patient, and he was especially with you. he was never the kind of man to be rude to you or yell at you, ever, so this threw you off completely. before he could even apologize, you left and went back to the place you two shared together.

he didn’t return home until later that night. he had been thinking about what he had done all day, and it made him feel guilty for being that way towards you. you were his girlfriend. he loved you more than anybody else, and he managed to hurt your feelings because he was unable to control his very own. cyno hoped you wouldn’t want to leave him. anxiety plagued him the entire day. he wondered if he would return back to you and find that you deserted the home you two stayed in.

much to his relief, you were lying in bed. you were turned on your side that was facing the window which exposed the vast desert outside. he sat down beside you and watched as your eyes fluttered open at the sudden weight taking over the bed.

“i’m sorry..” cyno whispered, looking down at you with amber eyes.

you sat up, crossing your legs on the mattress. you didn’t think he would come back being so apologetic, but you couldn’t help but forgive him. it did hurt your feelings a lot, but he was dealing with so much. it didn’t excuse what he did, but you two never fight. he wasn’t argumentative everyday. “it’s okay.. i just felt like shit for bothering you. i should have considered your schedule..” you didn’t want to look at him, but he tilted your chin to look into your eyes.

cyno leaned in and hugged you, which took you by surprise. “no need.. i was an asshole for not controlling myself. you didn’t deserve any of that..” he squeezed your body. “i love you.. i hope you can forgive me.”

your hand rested on his shoulder blade. his skin felt warm from the blazing heat of the sun that he was under constantly. “i love you too..” you spoke. “i can forgive you, no worries.”

♡ KAEYA

you and kaeya had been dating for quite a while. since you were his girlfriend, there were some things that you needed to get accustomed to in the relationship.

especially kaeya’s drinking habit.

you didn’t mind that he would go off to the bars some nights to have a few drinks with his friends. hell, you did it a few times yourself with your own friends, but it became an issue when he would come late to your dates due to him being hungover the next day. you knew he couldn’t help but sleep an extra hour or two through the morning, but it had happened a few times and it led up to an argument occurring between you. you claimed it was a bother to you and he wasn’t being considerate of your time and energy.

what made it worse was kaeya usually was the one to make these plans, so for him to just not show up, it felt unfair to you. if he knew he was going to drink a lot, why would he continue to make plans with you the next day? it didn’t make any sense to you whatsoever, and you were tired of him either not showing up or having to go to his house to wake him up.

when you stormed out of his house and the door slammed behind you, kaeya felt immediate regret plaguing his chest. he did everything for you in the relationship and you did the same for him. he felt like he was an idiot for letting his drinking habits get a hold of your relationship. he didn’t have a drinking problem by any means, but he knew when he had too much he wouldn’t want to do anything the next day. you were right. it was unfair of him to miss out on spending quality time with you. he didn’t want to make you feel unimportant or a second priority. kaeya loved you more than life itself. how could he hurt the one person he poured his heart and soul into?

he gave you a bit of time to blow off steam. he knew chasing after you could escalate things further, so he decided to leave you alone for the rest of the day. however, he wasn’t about to let you both go to bed angry with each other.

so, when he showed up at your doorstep with a bouquet of flowers, you were quite surprised. you didn’t think kaeya would even bother making an effort to talk things through with you, but he was standing there with an apologetic expression. “can we talk? i understand if not.. but i just don’t want you going to bed pissed at me.” he clutched the flower stems in his hand, hoping you would hear him out.

you nodded your head, inviting him into your home and watching him step inside. kaeya then turned to face you, handing the flowers in your direction. they were your favorite, lamp grass. you loved the way they glowed in the dark. “kaeya.. i’m-“ you started, taking the flowers from him.

“i’m sorry.. i didn’t mean to keep missing out on our dates. i was a shitty boyfriend for keeping up with my behavior, and i shouldn’t have been doing that in the first place.” he cut you off, shocking you. “i love you, (y/n), and i don’t want you to think otherwise.”

you stood there for a few moments in silence. you weren’t sure what to say to him, but you could sense his genuine energy in his voice. “i forgive you..” you said, lifting your eyes to meet his. “i don’t want it to happen again, okay? i love to spend time with you and i don’t wanna feel like you dislike my presence.”

he took your free hand into his, placing a soft kiss on the top of it. he had been a gentleman since day one and it seemed like that attribute of him never left his personality. “i love seeing you more than anybody else, please don’t think you’re a burden. i’d do anything to spend any waking moment with you by my side, okay? i won’t ever do it again.” kaeya replied, stepping closer to where you were standing.

you smiled, pressing a kiss on the side of his cheek. he loved how soft your lips felt against his skin. “i appreciate that..” you sounded much happier, which relieved him.

kaeya wasn’t going to do that ever again. he could never lose you, ever.

♡ WRIOTHESLEY

wriothesley was quite a busy man. it was something you knew you were signing up for when you started to date him a few months back. his job was tiring, exhausting even. he had a huge responsibility on his shoulders to carry, and sometimes it stressed him out more than he would like to admit.

it seemed like that stress began to reach its breaking point, because wriothesley hadn’t been acting right over the last few days. you assumed he was just dealing with his job, so you decided to try and see if venting would have any relief to your boyfriend. you two had done it many times before when things got a little hectic in your personal lives. plus, you both trusted each other greatly. you didn’t think he would have an issue with it.

well, you were wrong, unfortunately.

when you made the attempt to speak to your boyfriend about what was wrong, he had a serious attitude, and things escalated to you two both having a fight. you didn’t like the way he was speaking to you and he was becoming upset with you for no reason at all. all you had asked him was if he wanted to talk, but it seemed like that question alone must have ruffled his feathers.

you two never fought, so this had completely blindsided you.

wriothesley then left for work, leaving you by yourself in the apartment you lived in. it wasn’t your intention to make him angry with you. all you wanted to know was what was troubling him to make him feel so overwhelmed. that fact crept up on wriothesley immediately after he entered his office at the fortress. he shouldn’t have snapped at you that way. it wasn’t right, nor was it excusable. he was the one person who was supposed to make you happy, not hurt.

a few hours later, he returned home a lot earlier than usual. things were slow at the fortress, so he decided to leave early and try to patch things up with you. he found you sitting on the couch with a book in your hands, seemingly trying to read away what had happened earlier between you. you were a bit taken back to see him standing in front of you, but you didn’t know what to say to him.

“i’m sorry.. i was out of line earlier.” he broke the silence between you. it was like popping a balloon. “i get it if you’re pissed at me.. i can give you space if you’d like.”

you sat there for a few moments. you closed the book in your hands and placed it on the wooden table in front of you. wriothesley was right. he shouldn’t have been that much of an ass to you. you didn’t deserve such treatment, but you loved him. he was never like that towards you and your friends had told you before that random fights are normal. “it’s okay.. i forgive you.” you replied, standing up to go in front of him. “please.. just promise me you won’t do that again.”

his hands went to cup your cheeks. his thumbs brushed against your smooth skin. you could see how guilty he felt for doing what he had done. “i promise.. i swear, (y/n), i’ll never do that again. i could never hurt you like that, ever again.” he looked down at you with sincerity on his features.

you leaned in to hug him. wriothesley inhaled the fresh scent of your shampoo and felt immediately calmed from your touch. he loved you, dearly. he could never do that to you again and he vowed to never pull a stunt like that with you ever again.

2K notes · View notes

sashaisready · 8 months ago

Text

Starting Over: Chapter 4 - Build

Mob!Bucky x Female Reader

Series Masterlist

When Bucky throws you out of the house for a betrayal and won't listen to your side of the story, you know the only way out is through - it's time to start over. Maybe this was never going to be your happy ending.

Me again! We’re back. Sorry I know I keep adding new parts but I’ve broken up the final chapter into two as it just keep going and this is a huge bumper one (sorry). I promise there genuinely will only be one more looool. Thanks again for all of your reblogs/comments/love for this story, it means a lot!!

💔

Lou had welcomed you back with open arms, fixing you up with a waitress job at the diner. Of course he had. Lou was like the father you’d never had. His love was one of the few constants in your life.

Mercifully, he didn’t ask you much about Bucky, didn’t chastise you for making a bad choice and getting involved with a mob boss. That wasn’t what Lou was about. He knew that ‘I told you so’ served no purpose, he knew that you were a big girl and there was nothing he could tell you that you didn’t already know yourself. So why bother? All that mattered was that you were here, and you needed him. He would always catch you when you fell.

Going back to waitressing didn’t feel like you’d taken a step back or that you’d somehow failed, if anything it was quite nice to see this former version of your life once more. And you’d missed chatting with the regulars, helping Lou with the accounts, occasionally fighting small fires (both metaphorical and very occasionally, literal). With Bucky you didn’t need to work, which was nice in one way, but you’d missed the structure and purpose your old job had given you. You previously had no interest in daily gossipy lunches with the other mob wives, and there was only so much shopping you could do.

“How did we ever cope without you?” Lou had asked one morning after you’d successfully chased and caught a dine and dasher, and saved hundreds of dollars on the power bill after negotiating a new contract. All before 10am.

You grinned, “I feel the same way about this place”.

You had moved in with Wanda, she had insisted - despite your protests. She and her boyfriend, Vis, gave you the spare room and said you could stay until you got back on your feet. It was small and full of all the extra stuff they couldn’t fit elsewhere in their apartment, but you didn’t care. You would’ve been happy with the couch, or a sleeping bag on the floor.

Nat was equally helpful, sorting you out by buying new clothes and shoes in your size and giving you some of the toiletries and make-up she didn’t use. She even cut and restyled your hair (‘because hair holds memories’, she told you) and took on whichever role you needed. Sometimes that was nights on her couch crying as she held you, other times it was hitting up the bars and trying to forget. She did it all. She had come and got you that morning at the hotel, after you sent her a frantic message from the rickety computer explaining what had happened. She told you she’d be there in 30 minutes…but ended up doing the trip in 20.

One afternoon a week or so later, Bucky’s men radioed him to let them know that there was a redhead in a Mercedes at the front gates demanding to speak to him. She wouldn’t take no for an answer. He’d sighed as he saw her familiar face on the security monitor and told them to let her in. He knew this day would come. He dismissed them, they didn’t need to be here for this.

Nat had parked up and casually exited the car, strolling across the patio as Bucky stood in the doorway and waited for the inevitable. She didn’t keep him waiting long, slugging him across the jaw with a sharp ‘thwack’ causing him to stagger back against the doorframe.

“Got it. Anything else to say?” he groaned.

She nodded and then kneed him hard in the groin, turning on her heel as she left him in a crumpled heap and ambled back to her car.

“I warned you this would happen if you hurt her”, she called out calmly without looking back.

“Always good to see you, Nat”, Bucky managed to eke out as she slammed the car door.

The generosity of them all was overwhelming, you knew how lucky you were. It’s often said that you don’t know who your true friends are until you fall on hard times, and your friends had proved themselves tenfold. You didn’t think you’d ever be able to repay their kindness.

💔

It had been about six weeks since the night at the hotel when he started coming to the diner. No goons or hangers-on, just him. Which was almost unheard of, given his position.

The first time was a Friday morning, around 9am. He sat in the corner booth, head buried in the menu.

“I can kick him out, hon’, I’m not scared of him”, Lou had snarled as he glared over at the man in the booth.

“It’s okay, Lou. I can handle him,” you told him gently, giving his arm a reassuring stroke.

You took a deep breath as you approached his table. You couldn’t see his face, just his hands, an eerie mirror of the first time you’d met.

“What can I get you?” you asked as you readied your pad and pen, your voice surprisingly even, in spite your stomach’s somersaults.

He lowered the menu slowly and you couldn’t deny it was good to see him again. His blue eyes shone, the former dusting of stubble over his chin and jawline now a fuller beard - just as tantalising as it had always been. A few strands of his hair had come away from the carefully styled gel, framing his face perfectly. Some of your former anger towards him bubbled away beneath the surface, but you couldn’t deny you had also missed him. You had loved him, after all.

The two of you shared a knowing smile.

“You know there are like…hundreds of other breakfast places in this city, right?” you teased, but half-serious.

“I do…but this is the only one that gets my eggs just right,” he grinned back.

“Mmm. I’ll pass your compliments onto the chef. You still want the usual?”

“Please”.

You scribbled down the familiar order onto the page. It felt strange to write it down again, it had been a long time since you’d done that for him.

“Are you going to behave?” you questioned, arms folded.

“Mostly”.

“You’d better. Lou will have your ass if you don’t” you scoffed.

“I don’t doubt it”.

“And Bucky, if you’re here to-” you began, your face betraying the pain that still lurked within you.

“I’m not”, he cut you off. “Just breakfast. I promise”.

You nodded, pressing your lips together with trepidation. The two of you watched the other for a few seconds.

“Well, okay, that’ll be right out”.

You turned and put his order into the kitchen. You didn’t have to look back to know he was watching.

“Here you go”.

You returned to the booth a little later, laying out the plates and re-filling his coffee, he thanked you and pulled a napkin from the dispenser.

“I like your new hair”, he said as he began to cut up his food, his eyes not leaving the table.

“Thanks. I like your new beard”.

“Thanks. Business going okay here?”

“Doing well. Yours?”

“Same old, same old…”

“And…Rumlow?” you asked, your throat catching a little as you said his name.

“Terminated” he replied coldly as he took a sip of coffee.

“Yes…I presumed so. HYDRA?”

“I finally cut off all of those heads”.

“I hope you mean metaphorically”.

“Mostly. The girls good? Vis?”

“All good. Steve? Sam?”

“Also good”.

“Good”.

“Well…good to catch up. Let me know if you need anything else. Enjoy”.

“Thanks”.

You waited for some big trick or reveal, but it never came. He ate his meal, drank another coffee refill, paid the bill, tipped, and left within the hour. Like any other customer. Lou was sceptical, and so were you – but there nothing to suggest it was anything else but breakfast…like he said.

And that’s how it was every Friday after that. He’d come in at 9am on the dot, sit in the same booth. Order the usual. You were always his waitress. Everything was the same, every week. The other regulars knew to avoid sitting at his table at that time. The other servers would barely bat an eyelid as he strolled in, taking for granted that you’d be along shortly to put his order in – even if he wasn’t in your section that morning. And it was…fine. He didn’t try and do anything more, didn’t ask you to meet anywhere or for a chance to talk. You initially thought it would be hard to see him again, but it was okay. Maybe a future where the two of you just pleasantly co-existed was possible.

The two of you would chat. Just small talk at first. Occasionally a joke. Even Lou would chat to him sometimes, he was still wary of Bucky but more open to him than he was previously. He certainly didn’t mind him spending money in his restaurant.

Weeks soon became months. Seasons changed. Still, he came in every week, rain or shine. Plates and plates of eggs eaten; endless coffee mugs refilled. He didn’t ever skip it, he was never sick, never seemed to take vacations. He showed up every time. Even if you weren’t there.

The small talk eventually evolved, so slowly you barely noticed it happen. You chatted more about the old times, memories started to feel fonder rather than sad reminders of what was lost. He told you anecdotes about Steve and Sam. You told him about Wanda and Vis, about Nat. You laughed uproariously one morning over the story of Sam’s disastrous vacation involving a mistaken suitcase and an overzealous TSA agent. It was nice to just sit and talk with him, just be with him. No expectations or obligations. You hadn’t forgiven him. You weren’t sure you ever could. But you had missed him. And seeing him for an hour every week, on your turf, just shooting the breeze – that was nice.

“So, you seeing anyone?” you asked one morning as you sat across from him in the booth and sipped your drink, your break coinciding with the end of his meal. You weren’t sure where it came from, but it popped out of your mouth before you had a chance to stop it. The curiosity was eating you alive. You seemed to talk about everything apart from his love life.

He firmly shook his head, “nope”.

You frowned. “Really? When was the last time you went on a date?”

“With you,” he replied in that no-nonsense tone of his.

You cocked your head, peering over at him in disbelief.

“But Bucky…”

“What? I’m not interested in anyone else”.

“But we’re not together. And it’s been months”.

“I know”, he replied stoically as he sipped his coffee. His eyes seemed to be studying you.

“And we’re not getting back together…”

“I know”.

“But…”

“But what?”

“I don’t know, but I-I don’t like this. It feels like a ploy, somehow. To push me into taking you back” you stammered, your finger dancing on the rim of your mug.

“It’s not. It’s just a fact. I didn’t even bring it up, you did”.

He was frustratingly calm and unperturbed, finishing his breakfast like this was just some casual conversation about the weather or a movie he’d seen.

“So…what, you’re never gonna date anyone again? Is that it?” you scowled.

He shrugged, “I never said that. It’s just not something I’m looking to do right now. Work is taking up most of my time. Plus, I’m in therapy, working through a few things. I’d rather be in a better place before I start dating again. Learn from my past mistakes”.

“Oh…” you responded in surprise, “well…that’s very mature of you. And is it…helpful?”

“Mmm, pretty eye opening,” he nodded as he took another sip of his coffee, “I’d recommend it to anyone,” he looked at you pointedly.

You felt the heat at your cheeks, perfectly aware that he was suggesting you do the same. And he was probably right. But you didn’t like the potential to appear vulnerable in front of him, so you merely shrugged and went back to rubbing your coffee cup. You were genuinely pleased for him…it was just unfortunate that your break-up was the catalyst. You felt a wave of grief roll through you.

You paused for just a beat, again unable to stop your word vomit.

“Are you gonna ask if I’m seeing anyone?”

“No”.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s none of my business. You can date whoever you want”, he shrugged, keeping his attention on his plate.

You frowned. “And you’re okay with that?”

“Yes. I just want you to be happy, doll”.

“Bullshit!” you scoffed, “you once picked a man up by his ankles and dipped his head in the toilet because he grabbed my ass at that party…”

“Well, that was deserved. And I didn’t flush it on him, so he got off easy…”

You pointed an accusatory finger at him across the table. “Buck…I know you. What’s your game, here?”

He sighed heavily, taking a long sip of his coffee before he spoke. His eyes finally moved up from his plate to meet yours. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I just like being with you? In whatever form I can? That maybe I’m happy just getting this time with you every week, no matter what happens between us?”

“And that’s enough for you?” you asked incredulously.

He shifted in his seat, his tone suddenly very serious.

“Look, doll. I’m always going to love you. And I’m always going to be honest with you. If you turned around tomorrow and you told me you wanted to give things another shot – sure, I’d bite your hand off to accept. But I live in the real world. And I know you aren’t likely to forgive me for what I did, and that’s fine. I’ve accepted that. I’m just happy to have you in my life in some way, even if that’s just talking to you every Friday while I have my breakfast”.

You blinked back at him, unsure whether to take him at his word or if this was some manipulation tactic. The word ‘love’ echoed in your ears, and you had to shake it off that he said he still felt that way about you. Maybe this was all some trick. You knew you couldn’t trust him anymore.

But as you looked into his eyes, for a moment his sentiment felt…genuine. Real. Maybe he was telling the truth.

“Fine”, you sighed as you took a sip from your cup, “I get paid to be here either way…”

💔

A few more months passed, it had been nearly a year since the break-up. Bucky remained a weekly customer but nothing else. You’d finally moved out of Wanda’s into your own place – a shitty, cramped studio apartment was the best you could do on a waitress wage and tips – but it was yours. It had been such a long time since you’d had your own space, you loved every meagre inch.

You'd also started therapy, to help get your head around your childhood and abandonment issues - to help understand why you were always ready to run and expect everything to collapse. Bucky was right, it was valuable - if not hard going. But you knew it was helping, even though nothing could be 'fixed' overnight.

You still visited Wanda and Vis regularly. In fact, you were over there laughing with Wanda and making an early dinner when you got the call that Friday evening. She knew something terrible had happened from the way your face fell, your eyes widening with shock as you listened to the voice on the other end telling you whatever horror story it was. Seconds later you were rushing out of the front door and trying to wrangle on your coat and grab your bag, as she called out to you in a panic just steps behind.

“It was a massive heart attack,” the doctor had said as she eyed the clipboard in front of her. “He was lucky that a passerby on the street called an ambulance, if he’d been alone…he may not have been able to call himself, and if it had been too late…”

You had not been at the hospital long, sweating and panting in your rush to get down there. Your head fuzzy, unable to fully take in what you’d been told. The doctor was still talking, her voice an unidentifiable drone in your ears as you concentrated all your efforts on staying upright. You tugged off your coat, suddenly far too hot. The hospital felt like a furnace, suffocating and stifling. You were dizzy, everything felt blurred.

A couple of chairs sat a few feet away along the sterile-looking hallway, you plopped down into one and put your head in your hands.

“Can she see him?” Wanda asked the doctor, her hands patting your shoulders supportively.

“He’s stable, but the team are just doing some observations on him. Plus, he needs to rest, and might be feeling groggy after the meds. He’ll be out for a good while. It might take some time to be conscious and lucid again, so-”

“I’ll wait,” you said defiantly, the first time you’d spoken since you got there. “However long it takes”.

“Yes, I understand. And you’re his…friend?”

“Daughter,” you corrected. “I’m Lou’s daughter. Well…good as. He doesn’t have any other family. Neither of us do…”

The doctor nodded kindly, pointing out the coffee machine across the hall and leaving you to it.

💔

Wanda waited with you for a while, but she had a work event that night. She insisted she’d stay but you waved her off, telling her you’d check in with her later. She’d been planning that event for months. Lou would be mad at her for missing it, let alone over him. And you meant it, you didn’t want her missing it because of you.

So, she left. Leaving you by yourself in the hard chair with the plastic cup of lukewarm motor oil masquerading as coffee. Nat was out in the Bahamas with some hottie for the week, and you didn’t really want to bother Vis, so you sat quietly alone. You kept sane by reminding yourself that Lou was stable, and his prognosis looked good. He would be okay. He would. He’s made of strong stuff.

Another hour went by, and you couldn’t help your tears from falling as you began to work yourself up worrying, exacerbated by the fact you hadn’t eaten and had nobody around to stop you from spiralling. Wanda had sent a few texts, but you knew she was busy and didn’t need you distracting her. You just wished you had someone to talk to. Or not even talk to, just be with. You squeezed your phone in your hands as if willing the idea that someone would suddenly call you out of the blue. A friend you’d forgotten, a long-lost family member. But there was nobody.

Well, almost nobody.

You pulled your purse onto your lap and dug through, retrieving your wallet at the bottom. You opened it up and checked each card holder until you found what you were searching for, slightly worn and torn tucked behind the library card you barely used, but the details still clear as day.

JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES

Director of 107 Inc.

You had scooped up the card after he left it in the hotel room. It was a bit of a split decision, you’d nearly tossed it in the trash but changed your mind at the last second and jammed it into your wallet, not really thinking about why. You hadn’t looked at it since, you’d never transferred his number into your phone, or even spoken to him outside of Fridays at the diner. But he had become something of a friend over the last few months, and you were surprised to find yourself looking forward to seeing him every week. It was as if you’d gotten to know each other again from scratch, a slow-burn friendship grown over time – the complete opposite of your initial whirlwind relationship, where heat had won out over foundations. But now, you felt you knew him differently. It was funny how you get to know somebody without the chemistry and physical attraction fogging up your brain.

Was this stupid? Were you asking for trouble? But…it would be nice to talk to someone. Just a phone call, nothing more. You took a deep breath and punched the numbers into the keypad before you could talk yourself out of it.

“Hello?” came his gruff voice in your year after two rings.

You sat upright, surprised he had even answered at all – let alone so fast. You hadn’t really thought about what you were going to say.

“Hey, Buck, I…” you squeaked, unable to mask the emotion in your voice.

“Doll?” his voice immediately softened, “what is it? Are you okay?”

“Yeah…well, no, actually. I’m at Mount Sinai…uh…Lou-uh, Lou had a big heart attack and I’m at the hospital and hesreallysickandI-I…”

You sobbed, your words melting into one as the pain of saying them out loud hit home, “I’m sorry I…”

“Hey. It’s okay. Take a moment for me, alright? Take a deep breath doll…”

You closed your eyes, inhaling and exhaling, blowing the air out of your lips like he said. You did it a few times, feeling slightly better afterwards,

“Good, that’s good,” Bucky told you. “Are you by yourself? Are Wanda and Nat there with you?”

“No…Wanda is working, Nat’s away. It’s fine…I just…”

“I’m so sorry about Lou, doll”, he said tenderly. “Do you want me to come down there?”

“No…no…it’s okay…I just. I just wanna talk,” you replied, wiping your eyes with the palm of your hand.

“Yeah…yeah, we can do that. What shall we talk about?”

You sighed, “I don’t know. Anything. Anything that isn’t hospitals or heart attacks…or food. Because I haven’t eaten and I’m starving.”

“Alright. Hmm. Well…I had to break up a fight between Thor and Scott today, if that helps distract you…”

“What? But Thor is twice Scott’s size. That was mean of him…”

“No…Scott started it. Said Thor was mouthing off about something or other and it all blew up. Scott swung for him”.

“What?? Is he insane?” you practically shrieked, the beginnings of a giggle forming in your throat as you tried to imagine Scott trying to land a punch as Thor towered above him.

“I guess so. But they worked it out. Last time I saw them they were laughing, and Thor was swinging him from his shoulders”.

You laughed. A proper, deep belly laugh. It felt good. Cathartic. You could practically see some of the tension leave your body.

“Well, I’m glad they figured it out. What else did you do today, Buck?”

“Hm. Not a lot. Mostly work. I went to the park. Just to get some air. Went to that duck pond you like and sat on the bench for a while”.

You smiled, “I love that pond”.

“I know. Remember that time you nearly fell in trying to help that duckling trapped in the weeds?”

“I do. I remember that you had to catch me and I accidentally splashed pondwater on your suit as I stumbled…” you laughed fondly.

“Not the worst thing I’ve had my dry cleaner remove for me. And we got the duckling back to its mom, even if she was furious at us”.

“She tried to bite you…”

“She succeeded”.

You both chuckled for a moment as you reminisced, then it suddenly went quiet between you both. You held the phone tightly to your ear, unsure and a little lost for words. It felt odd to feel tongue-tied around Bucky, it had always been so easy to know what to say to him. Despite how easy it was to slip back into nostalgia just now, and your newfound friendship, there was still something of a gulf between the two of you. You had been apart for so long now.

“…thanks, Buck,” you whispered.

“Anytime, doll”.

💔

After you hung up with Bucky, a nurse came over and you shot up out of your chair with anticipation. She told you that Lou was doing well but was slowly coming around after a heavy sedative. He should be ready for visitors in another hour or so. You sighed heavily but nodded grimly, as long as Lou was alright – that was all that mattered.

You sank back into your faithful chair, pulling out your rapidly dying phone again and wishing you had the foresight to bring a charger when you left Wanda’s. Or some food, at least.

You continued your vigil in the unfeeling hospital hallway, a place that seemed to exist outside of time. But you had to admit, speaking to Bucky had raised your spirits a little. It reminded you of the old days, when he was an anchor in a storm, a calming presence when things were tough. Part of you had missed that.

You’d just closed your eyes a little while later when you heard someone call your name.

“Still hungry?”

Your eyes filled with tears as your head snapped to see who it was.

There stood Bucky dressed in his off-duty grey sweats, his unstyled hair flopping across his forehead. In his hand was a brown bag, you instantly recognised the brand of your favourite take-out place printed across the front. It smelled heavenly.

“Buck…?” you mumbled in shock, not quite believing he was there, “what…what are you doing here?”

He shrugged, “you said you were alone and hadn’t eaten. I know how you get when you’re anxious. Figured you could use this”.

It wasn’t clear if he meant the food or the company, but in that moment, you were grateful for both.

He sat in the chair next to yours and began to methodically remove the food tubs, placing them on your lap and opening the lids as he pulled out a fork and napkins.

“Hope you still like this one,” he said as he revealed your usual order.

“I do”, you replied, your voice small.

“Good. Dig in.”

You began to eat slowly, feeling strangely self-conscious about your audience. Fortunately, he pulled out a tub of his own which took the focus off you. The two of you sat side by side and ate in silence.

“Thanks for this, Bucky,” you mumbled between mouthfuls.

“Anytime. Any news on Lou?”

“Should be ready for visitors soon”.

“Well, that’s good. He’s a tough old bastard.”

You both finished your meals and Bucky got to work tidying up the empty containers and old napkins and depositing them in the trash. You thanked him as he sat back down.

“Hey…thanks again, that was really thoughtful - but really, you don’t have to stay,” you shrugged, “you probably have a busy night”.

He shook his head, “nope. I’m wide open”.

He stared straight ahead and leaned back, his bulk squeezing up against the armrests of the chair. He wasn’t going anywhere.

“What do you mean when you said, ‘I know how you get when you’re anxious?’” you asked him tentatively.

“Just…I know how you can spiral when you’re stressed. Figured you could use some company is all,” he casually as he moved his hair away from his face.

“T-thanks,” you responded, your throat dry, “I’m not really up to chatting much right now, though”.

He was nonchalant, “that’s fine”.

The two of you sat side by side, nothing said.

It was awkward at first, sharing this cold and sterile space with your ex, worries about Lou weighing you down. But then after some time…it was sort of…okay? He didn’t try to initiate any conversation; he didn’t show any signs of boredom – even though he must’ve been feeling it. Didn’t complain. Didn’t check his watch. He just sat and waited with you, his arms propped up casually on the armrests and his eyes trained on the wall in front of him. You were grateful that he’d heeded your request not to speak as you didn’t have the brain power to labour a conversation. You didn’t fully understand why, but him just physically being there was strangely comforting - as odd as that was to admit to yourself.

Eventually the nurse returned, her smile warm as she greeted you.

“Oh, you have a friend. Right on time, Lou is ready to see you now”.

You quickly got to your feet and dashed after her as she led you to Lou’s room. Bucky followed close behind.

Your heart sank when you finally saw him, covered in wires and tubes, his face suddenly much older than his years. You gasped, rushing over to his bedside.

“Hey, kiddo” he wheezed, a smile creeping over his face despite the obvious effort it required, “aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

“Oh God, Lou, I was so scared…I thought you’d…” you took his hand in yours, unable to say the words out loud as the tears started again.

You felt like you’d cave in on yourself from the anguish, but a steadying hand found its way to your shoulder from behind you. Bucky squeezed once, a small reminder of his presence, then pulled his hand away. It was grounding, helpful.

“Hey there hon, I’m doin’ okay”, Lou rasped as he weakly tried to grip your hand in return. “But I guess this is a good reminder to lay off the bacon, huh?” he chuckled before the effort caused him to wheeze.

You smiled faintly and patted his hand, careful to mind the IV by his fingers, “you gotta start taking better care of yourself, okay? No more greasy breakfasts at work…”

He nodded slowly, his eyes flickering over to Bucky behind you, “you brought company…”

“Oh, yeah”, you turned to gesture to Bucky, “he sat with me and brought me dinner while I waited”.

Lou nodded, a flash of something in his eyes you couldn’t place. “You takin’ care of her?”

Bucky nodded in return, “of course”.

Lou inhaled deeply, “well…alright, I’m glad she’s not been by herself”, he begrudgingly offered. “I wouldn’t want her out in the cold…so to speak” he said pointedly, a clear reference to that awful night one year before.

“Rest assured…that would never happen,” Bucky responded coolly. “But I understand your concern”.

You watched as the two men stared at each other, something resembling an understanding seemed to lay between them.

💔

You sat with Lou for as long as you could before the doctor shooed you and Bucky out, explaining Lou needed to rest. You promised you’d be back tomorrow.

“Oh hon…no. Don’t waste your time on an old man like me,” he teased playfully.

“Oh, stop that. You know I’m going to be here with balloons and grapes, the whole shebang…” you grinned, putting your coat on.

“Good to see you, Lou” Bucky chimed in as he shook Lou’s hand, “you’ll be fighting fit in no time”.

Unbeknownst to you as you were busy with your bag and coat, Lou used a finger to beckon Bucky to move closer. Bucky obliged, leaning forward so that Lou could speak to him. His words were hushed but clear.

“Hurt her again and I’ll beat the living shit out of you. Bad ticker or not. And I don’t care how many of your goons you set on me…”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, but his expression betrayed no emotion, “understood”.

You turned, smiling obliviously at Lou just as Bucky stood back up to full height and cleared his throat. They both smiled back.

“See you tomorrow, Lou”.

“See you, kiddo”.

You left the room with Bucky trailing behind. As a small sob escaped your throat, his hand pressed firmly against your back. A small reminder that he’d shown up for you. He was there.

💔

#mob!bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #starting over fic

543 notes · View notes

shslbunnylover · 7 months ago

Note

Hi honey. How about a Wanda fic where R comes back after a long mission and since Wanda got so used to not having R around she's kinda ignoring her. Angst with a happy ending

★ ★ ★ Time Goes By ★ ★ ★

Character: Wanda Maximoff

Summary: When you finally return home after a month-long mission, you realize your girlfriend has started to get used to life without you

Taglist: @inlovewithgreta @lilfartbox1

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of NSFW, some crying, mentions of abandonment and anxiety,

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay!! Thank you for the request <3

Word Count: 3.63k

Being an avenger wasn't easy, not in the least. There was the constant threat of death, the looming amounts of paparazzi just *begging* to get an interview with their favorite superhero, and your personal least favorite, being away from your loved ones.

You absolutely adored your girlfriend Wanda, a fellow avenger, and when you found out you wouldn't get to see her for at least a month, you were heartbroken to be ripped away from the woman you cherished dearly just in the name of protecting some city on a whole other continent.

Wanda was equally as heartbroken, but she understood, having been a part of the avengers longer than you meant she had plenty of experience when it came to long missions that meant staying in a whole new environment.

“I know baby, I know, but you'll be okay! I'll try and text you everyday to wish you goodnight, and I'll try and text you every morning to wake you up,” She promised you, holding you in her arms.

“I know- But it's in Europe, it'll be a whole other timezone!” You cried.

“We'll make it work Dekta, we'll make it work,”

You were nothing short of a baby for the rest of the week before you left, never wanting to leave your loving girlfriend's side no matter what she did.

But the night before you left, you were held in her arms from the moment you and her got home from work, her manicured nails scratching at your scalp as the two of you watched your favorite sitcom together.

You knew she liked to hold you tightly while watching your favorite sitcoms due to her trauma, as if she was afraid to let you go in fear of that horrid day happening again.

She held you tightly because she knew that's the way her parents died, cuddled up on the couch. She wasn't losing another person in her life, and if another bomb hit your apartment, she wanted to die with you in her arms and her in yours.

She tried to get rid of the thoughts that made her behave this way for years, but subconsciously the redhead would forever cling to you when you watched these sitcoms, as it brought her comfort she wasn't even aware of receiving.

As Malcolm in the Middle played on the TV, you looked up at her, her green eyes sparkling as she watched the TV.

God she's beautiful.

“Wands…?” You murmured.

“Yes Dekta?” Wanda looked down at you, pressing a kiss to your forehead as her hands pulled you even closer to her.

“You're not gonna forget about me, right? When I come back everything will be back to normal?” You asked, a tear welling up in your eye at the mere thought of losing her because you were gone for too long.

Wanda grabbed the remote, pausing the TV before pulling you fully onto her lap, allowing for you to bury your head in the crook of your neck.

“Oh moya lyubov, I will never forget you,” Wanda frowned, kissing your lips softly as she looked at you, her eyes genuine as she pulled you out from her neck.

“I know, but I…” You trailed off, biting your lip as you shrugged.

“I know,” She nodded. “I won't forget you,”

You looked up at her with eyes that were glazed over with tears, and you attempted to hold them back, but a few finally escaped.

A shaky breath left your lips, and you wiped the droplets out from under your eyelids.

“You better not,” You mumbled.

Wanda looked at you, kissing your lips gently.

“I wouldn't even dream of it,”

You sniffled, holding onto Wanda for the rest of the night until you eventually fell asleep.

She carried you up to your shared bedroom after she had finished another two episodes of the sitcom, tucking you and herself under the covers of your bed.

“Wanda…” You slurred in your drowsy state. “I don't wanna go…”

Wanda sighed, her eyes falling to your sleeping form in sadness.

“I know moya lyubov, I know, I don't want you to leave either,” The redhead ran her fingers through your hair, twirling some of your locks around her pointer finger.

You didn't respond, falling back into your unconsciousness, leaving Wanda to hold you in her arms.

“Ya tebya lyublyu,” She murmured into your hair, shutting her eyes to join you in your sleep.

When she had awoken the next morning, she immediately noticed the lack of warmth in her arms.

She made her way to the kitchen, seeing the plate of pancakes you had made for her before your departure to your station in Europe.

The redheaded witch sat down at the table, quickly cutting up the pancakes so they didn't get cold.

The pancakes you made were delicious, and once she finished, she leaned back, grabbing a napkin to wipe her face.

She slid it across the bottom half of her face, pausing as she felt something a bit sticky being wiped across her cheek.

Her hands pulled the napkin back, and her eyes softened as she saw the clear shimmer of your lipgloss on the napkin.

She frowned, an exhale of something in between loneliness and sadness leaving her.

This was going to be a long month without you.

The days dragged on slower than either of you had wanted or even anticipated, your separation by the fault of physical distance causing you both to crave each other's voice and touch.

The mission itself wasn't much better either, you were mainly just put as a security guard at your post. You didn't even understand why you were here. You hadn't done anything that required any true effort like disabling any sort of terrorist from the gang you were sent out here to help catch.

‘God I can't wait to go home,’ You thought to yourself, leaning against the wall as you held the polaroid you always carried around with you in your hands.

The picture was one that you and Wanda had taken at some amusement park you had passed by on a walk and decided to try out, and on your way home after your time there you took a picture with your girlfriend on the machine provided.

She was kissing your cheek, and you were too busy laughing to notice that the picture had been taken, catching you two in your most genuine moment.

You smiled at the polaroid, putting it back in your wallet before tucking it in your bra so no one could take it without you knowing.

After the weeks of your mission had passed by, you woke up on the day you were to head to the airport with a smile on your face. After what had felt like ages without your loving girlfriend, you were ready to go home and see her more than anything.

You checked your phone, shrugging at the lack of any messages on your home screen. Wanda was 5 hours behind you back in New York, and you were used at this point to not being able to talk or call at all for days on end, but that's why you were so excited to go back home.

You loaded up your suitcases, fixing up the free hotel room provided for you in exchange for your service and work in the country.

Getting on the airplane, you sent a message to your girlfriend before turning your phone on airplane mode.

‘I’m heading home Wands, come and get me soon ❤️’

When Wanda saw that as she woke up, she smiled softly, excited to see her love for the first time in weeks.

She slowly pulled herself out of bed, sliding on a black blazer and khaki pants with a white button up shirt underneath.

She grabbed her keys, walking out of the apartment to her car.

You had landed about 30 minutes prior to Wanda getting out of bed and leaving to pick you up, but thanks to TSA regulations, you were delayed from walking to the pickup area of the airport for around another 45 minutes, giving the green-eyed woman plenty of time to arrive.

Once your luggage had been checked by the private agents assigned to avengers flying to their destination, who somehow looked more serious than the actual avengers themselves (Thanks Tony, you make the avengers look very professional), you finally walked to the front of the airport.

Your eyes scanned over the sea of people that were in the building, but they finally paused when they found the familiar sight of your girlfriend's fiery red hair.

“Wanda!” You beamed, almost running over to the older woman with your luggage in your hands.

When she heard your voice, Wanda turned in the direction she saw you coming in.

“Y/N!” She ran up and hugged you. “Oh moya lyubov, I'm so happy you got home safe!”

“I'm so happy to see you my dear,” You hugged her back tightly, your hands finding their way to her cheeks before you kissed her softly.

Wanda kissed you back, her eyes filling with tears.

“I'm so happy to see you too, any longer without you and I wouldn't have been able to handle it,” She separated her mouth from yours, darting her tongue over her lips as if attempting to savor the taste of you, as if she'd never taste you again.

The way she held you in her arms made you feel like you were on top of the world and nothing could go wrong.

But that would all change by morning.

When you woke up after a long night where Wanda couldn't keep her hands off of you and you couldn't keep yourself off of her, you noticed that there was no warmth on your back and around your waist.

“Wands…?” You slurred awake, sitting up and noticing that she had already woken up and gotten out of bed.

You checked the bed, assuming you must have slept in and Wanda had already given you her morning cuddles, but you saw that it was 7:30, the time her alarm usually went off.

Wanda would usually spend 10 minutes cuddling you and stroking your hair in the mornings, waking herself up and usually leaving you with a kiss on your cheek which would then wake you up.

You frowned, but attempted to shake the feeling of abandonment out of your head.

“Maybe she's making breakfast?” You asked yourself, standing up and throwing a robe over your body.

You walked over to the kitchen, not seeing your girlfriend or smelling anything that she might have made.

“Wanda?” You looked around.

No response.

You began to panic, walking to the living room where you saw your girlfriend reading a book while listening to Malcolm in the Middle in the background.

You frowned, calling out for her.

“Wanda?” You repeated.

Finally, she turned around, tilting her head.

“Yes Dekta?” She asked.

You couldn't spit what you wanted to say out, and you just fiddled with your fingers.

“Good morning…” You stuttered out.

Wanda just nodded at you before turning her head back to her book and listening to the sitcom you two were supposed to watch *together*.

You felt a surge of anger and sadness being sent up your spine. Why had Wanda been so loving the night before, but now treated you as if you weren't even there? Had she actually forgotten about you?

You walked back to the kitchen, pulling out a bowl and pouring some cereal into it (and then added milk if that's what you like).

“Maybe she's just tired Y/N,” You mumbled to yourself. “Last night was a lot…but…she never acts like this, even after nights like that,”

You dug your spoon into your fruity pebbles, sighing as you just spun the cereal around the white bowl with the metal utensil.

You tried to get some of the not-so-kind thoughts out of your head, and you frowned even deeper as you lifted your spoon to your mouth, swallowing the cereal before putting the spoon back down into the bowl.

You sniffled, putting your head in your hands.

You weren't sure *why* this was affecting you so much, but it was, and that's what mattered right now.

Standing up, you brought the bowl of cereal to the living room, sitting next to Wanda and leaning your head on her shoulder jokingly.

“Wandss…” You kept eating your cereal, hoping to get her attention somehow.

“Hmm?” She didn't even look up from her book.

“Did I do something?” You asked, sitting up now, continuing to eat your cereal.

“Hm? Oh no Dekta, you didn't,” The green-eyed woman slid her finger tip across her tongue before she flipped the page, tilting her head to the left so she could read better.

You frowned, beginning to get ticked off.

“Are you sure?”

Wanda still refused to look up from the words on the page, actually not hearing you, or at least choosing not to.

You scoffed, standing up once you and finished the cereal before putting it in the sink.

You returned to your shared bedroom, and you pulled out your computer, deciding to play a video game to calm your…well you weren't sure what you were feeling. There was a lot of anger, confusion, and definitely a lot of sadness in there as well. The inability to put an exact word on what you were feeling along with the inability to distinguish what was going on definitely had you anxious as well.

After about an hour or two passed, you closed out of the video game, putting your computer on your desk before deciding to clean up a bit.

With everything that was going on with Wanda and her attitude towards you, combined with the remaining anxiety still bubbling over from the mission, you were doing everything you could to keep your mind distracted. You felt that even though the mission was over, you still were nervous about it and whether you did good or not. It seemed like that if Wanda kept up the isolating behavior, you would tip over the edge of a breakdown. You didn't want to tell her about the leftover anxiety last night, because you didn't really need to. You were distracted and with the person that stood as your comfort.

But now with that stability gone, you knew that it was only a matter of time before you lost your happy front.

The room was clean and laundry was fully down in a matter of 4 hours, and you only noticed just how much time had passed when you started to smell her making lunch.

Your eyes lit up, and you pushed the laundry basket underneath the machine before running down the stairs, freezing when you saw your girlfriend eating all by herself.

“Wands, I didn't know you were making lunch…!” You said awkwardly, walking over to the table.

Wanda licked her lips awkwardly, and she bit her lip before putting her fork down.

“Oh um…I'm sorry Dekta, I only made one plate,” She said awkwardly.

“Oh…” You trailed off.

“You can still sit with me if you want, I'm not going to stop you,” The green-eyed witch lifted her fork to her mouth.

You sighed a bit under your breath.

“Alright,” You sat across from her, attempting to make conversation, but only being left with a nod or just complete silence.

The rest of the week wasn't much better, as Wanda had continued this same behavior.

She would make breakfast, lunch and even dinner all for herself. She wouldn't cuddle you in the morning, and she wouldn't even include you in her activities like she always used to before you left.

It was another one of those times where she had left you home by yourself with your dog, Sparky, who sat comfortably in your lap as you stroked his hair.

“You think Wanda still loves me, Sparky?” You asked the fluffy dog who laid there curled up on your thighs as you played another video game, this one being the game you had been trying to teach Wanda how to play so you could play together.

The dog simply licked your leg, his wet slobbery tongue grazing across your skin causing a small smile to break through onto your lips.

“Arf!”

You laughed, scratching the Jack Russell terrier behind his ears.

“You're such a good boy, aren't you?” You chuckled, laughing more as Sparky twirled around in your lap, chasing after his tail.

You put down the controller after you had paused the game, and you hoisted Sparky up to hold him up in your arms.

“I love her so much, and she seemed so happy to see me when I got home, why has everything changed? She promised that nothing would…” You vented to the creature in your arms, your fingers caressing Sparky’s fur from the top of his head down to his tail.

You waited for a few moments, as if giving Sparky the floor to talk, even though he obviously couldn't.

“Yeah, I know I was gone for a whole month, but she promised me everything would still be the same when I came home. I know it was hard for her, but it was for me too,” You turned around, leaning against the armrest of the couch.

Once again you let the dog give his imaginary input.

“I've just been feeling so ignored, like she got used to life without me. She even started watching our show by herself, and she forgets that I'm even there sometimes!” You sniffled, beginning to tear up from all of the emotions washing over you.

The anxiety of the mission, the coldness and complete lack of your existence being acknowledged from your lover, and the adjustments you were still trying to get used to had all begun to finally take their toll on you.

But just as you began to cry your heart out for the first time in months, you heard the front door in front of the living room creek.

You shot your head in the direction of the sounds, and you were shocked to see your girlfriend back so soon.

“W-Wands-? How long have you been there?” You stuttered, sitting up and placing Sparky on the floor so he could run off and resign from his position as your therapist.

“About 5 minutes…” Your girlfriend admitted.

You wiped your eyes, standing up.

“So…so you heard all of that…didn't you?” Your voice wavered.

Wanda nodded, her beautiful green eyes flooding with tears.

“I'm so sorry Dekta, I didn't mean to make you feel so left out…” Her manicured hands, still having chips of the red nail polish you put on them before you left for that God awful mission, lifted up to cup your face.

You let out a small cry at the touch. It felt so alien yet so…so comforting and familiar.

“Oh, oh Dekta, come here,” Wanda pulled you into a tight hug, massaging your scalp with her fingers. “I'm so sorry my love. The month had been so long without you, and I just…I got used to you not being around. But it wasn't a good feeling, it felt so lonely,” She explained with tears pouring out of her green orbs.

“I know, I just- I felt like you forgot about me just like I was worried about,” You cried.

“Oh no baby…I couldn't ever forget you, I just got so used to having you around, and I still felt so miserable from going so long without you in my arms,” Wanda cooed, sitting you down on her lap as she sat on a chair.

You wrapped your arms around her waist like the needy thing you were, and she held you until you both stopped crying (although you cried for much longer than she did).

“I…” Wanda began, biting her lip, looking down at the floor.

You tilted her head up, sniffling.

“Go on,”

She took a deep breath, exhaling softly as you wiped her cheeks free of her tears.

“I've lost so many people in my life…and I've had to become accustomed quickly to them not being there anymore. I was terrified of losing you, and I had already accepted the fact that I would. So when you came home…I tried to knock myself out of the mindset that you weren't here and with me anymore. But no matter what I did, it didn't work until I saw you crying here with Sparky,” The love of your life explained, her hands gripping onto you with a shaky grasp the more she talked. “It’s not an excuse but I-”

You cut her off with a deep kiss, sliding your tongue around here as your hands grasped onto hers as they remained on your hips.

The kiss lasted for about a minute, and Wanda looked at you with wide eyes as the two of you finally pulled apart for air.

“Y/N…” She panted, her digits loosening her grip on your soft skin.

“I forgive you Wanda…” You blurted.

The witch's eyes lit up in a mix of relief and joy.

“You do?”

You nodded.

“I do,”

Her perfect smile returned to her ever perfect face, and it only made you smile back.

“I love you, Y/N,” Wanda looked at you with pure adoration. “More than life itself,”

You chuckled at how soft and sappy she was.

“I love you too, Wanda,”

She pulled you back into her embrace, and the longer she held you, the time that went by without you dissipated from her memory.

If you enjoyed reading this, don't forget to like, reblog and comment! Thank you and you are loved <3

-Akira

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x gender neutral reader #marvel x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #lesbian #bisexual #pansexual #wlw #nblw #fluff #angst with a happy ending #hurt/comfort #akira writes ❤️

398 notes · View notes

silens-oro · 1 month ago

Text

Well Enough Alone: Baby Blurb #6

Not all fics have adult content, but this blog is 18+. Andrew "Pope" Cody x f!Reader (nicknamed Hawk) Animal Kingdom Masterlist Pope x Hawk Playlist Well Enough Alone Baby AU Masterlist

General Synopsis: Hawk, Pope and Lena do a gender reveal. Word Count: .9k Content Warning: no warnings. AN: I'm genuinely having so much fun with these and all the messages you guys are sending me about dad!Pope! There are only a few more pregnancy blurbs left before we head into baby territory. please comment & reblog :)

As much as Pope and Hawk wanted to find out the gender at the twenty week ultrasound, they had the NP write it down on a piece of paper so they could do a more intimate reveal with Lena when she got home. When Hawk told her on the way to school that today was the day they were going to find out, she was all smiles and giggles. And when Hawk told her they were going to wait for her to get out of school to find out, she was elated.

Pope volunteered to get Lena at pickup while Hawk just stared at the folded piece of paper on the coffee table. Regardless of what it said, she was going to be happy -they both were. All of her panels came back clear and everything on the scan looked good, much to Pope’s relief. All of his special grocery shopping and researching and reading had paid off so far, but when this pregnancy was done, Hawk was never going to touch a leafy green vegetable so long as she lived.

"Take this kaaaaale and shove it," She sang to Pope one night to the tune of Johnny Paycheck. He did not find it as humorous as she did.

Lena had been an absolute trooper with all of this. When they initially told her they were going to have a baby, she was excited, but that excitement turned to sadness the further she sat with the fact that a baby was coming.

“Are you going to forget about me when the baby comes?” She asked Pope while they were out at the park one afternoon while Hawk was at the shop. They had finally gotten Lena out of the shell that Baz put her in and now she had reverted back to the way she knew how to protect herself from emotional hurt.

“Why would we forget you?” Pope asked her. She shrugged.

“Danny said when his mom had a baby, he was sent to stay with his grandma for a while. He said that’s what happens when moms have babies.”

“You're going to be right there with us, Lena. You’re not going anywhere else, and especially not to grandma Smurf’s.” Pope reassured her. “You’re a part of this family and the baby is going to be looking up to you when they get here. How are they gonna know how to be a kid if you’re not there to teach them?” This brought a half-grin out of her.

Now, all Lena could talk about was the baby. It was the first thing she asked about in the morning, and the last person she said good night to when Hawk tucked her into bed. Pope had even enlisted her in the Baby Thalia campaign, effectively creating a mutiny under her own roof.

Lena was a big help in picking the furniture and decorations for the nursery, and she insisted on helping around the house, even though Hawk wasn’t that big yet. It was still incredibly sweet and Hawk knew she just wanted to be included, so she made sure every milestone, and everything between, was celebrated with her.

The sound of the front door opening and little footsteps running through the house broke Hawk out of her thoughts.

“Is it time?” Lena' shouted's voice echoed off the walls as she ran full speed into the living room until she flew onto the sofa. Her long, curly hair bounced in a curtain around her as she got comfortable on the cushions. “Uncle Pope said you were waiting for me. You didn’t peek, did you?”

“Of course not! We waited for you just like I promised this morning, but we need to wait for your Uncle Pope to get in here before we find out.”

“Uncle Pope!” Lena shouted impatiently, making Hawk laugh at her enthusiasm.

“I’m coming,” He finally entered the living room, stepping down cautiously with an anxious grin. “How do you want to do this?” Pope asked Hawk. She looked down to Lena next to her and picked up the piece of paper.

“Do you want to do the honors, Lena?” The little girl’s brown eyes widened, but her grin only grew wider.

“Really?” She looked at Pope, who came to sit next to her, sandwiching her between the two adults.

“Can’t think of anyone better.” He said, his palm coming around to place itself on Hawk’s lower back. Hawk handed her the folded paper and brought her eyes to meet Pope’s. A nervous, excited energy crackled between them and his heart grew when Hawk smiled at him.

Lena carefully unfolded the paper in her hands, careful to not rip it. She held it close to her chest so neither Pope nor Hawk could see as she read it. She screamed excitedly into the paper, giggling like a maniac when she pulled it over her face, legs kicking like she could take off running if her feet touched the floor.

Pope knew.

He knew by her reaction what that paper said, but he wanted to hear it. Lena turned to Hawk, hugging her with everything she had.

“It’s a girl!” She shouted into Hawk’s chest, bouncing in her spot. “It’s a girl! We knew it, didn’t we, Uncle Pope?” She looked to her uncle, who couldn’t take his eyes off of Hawk.

“Yes we did.” His voice was thick with emotion, tears lining his eyes. Lena momentarily composed herself and dropped to the floor so she could be eye level with Hawk’s bump. Hawk couldn’t hold back the happy tears as Pope scored over to her, wrapping his arms around her to pull her into his chest. “I told you so.” He whispered into Hawk’s ear so only she would hear, before kissing behind it affectionately.

“Baby Thalia,” Lena cooed, “I can’t wait to meet you.”

BABY THALIA LORE BEGINS NOW

#pope cody #pope cody imagine #pope cody x reader #andrew pope cody #andrew pope cody x reader #animal kingdom #animal kingdom imagine #well enough alone universe #well enough alone baby blurbs

196 notes · View notes

elliespassagerprincess · 24 days ago

Note

The song save your tear - the weekend reminds of a fwb situation, could you make a ellie williams x reader one?

Maybe one where ellie didnt want to have a relationship with reader and treated her like a friend so now reader treats her like a simple friend and rejects ellies advances

(if you want to make it dark you can! But i leave that up to what you think its best!)

Thank you babes!

Save your tears - ellie williams x reader

hi anon! i hope you enjoy! i wrote 2 versions to this. This and a darker version, lmk if you want that one too!!

this story is based off the song Save your tears by the weeknd, if you can please listen to the song as you're reading:)

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

requests are open, send me your thoughts:)

Warnings: friends with benefits dynamic, angst and emotional manipulation, power imbalance (emotional), jealousy and toxic behavior, alcohol use

Summary: Ellie Williams never wanted commitment. When you first tangled in each other’s sheets, it was her rules: casual, no strings, no complications. You agreed—half-heartedly. But feelings grew in the silence between skin and shadows.

masterlist

The first time it happened, you were both drunk.

Not the sloppy kind—just loose enough to forget the warnings stitched into your better judgment. Ellie’s hand on your thigh, the glint of a dare in her half-lidded eyes. “We don’t have to make this a thing,” she said against your neck, casual like it was just another Friday night. “Just... fun, yeah?”

And you—foolish, soft, already hooked—nodded. “Yeah. Fun.”

It became a pattern. Late nights, tangled limbs, and laughter that always faded too quickly when the morning sun hit. Ellie would slide on her hoodie, brush a kiss to your cheek, and mutter, “Don’t catch feelings, alright?” Like it was a joke. Like she wasn’t the one carving space inside your ribs.

You told yourself it was enough. That the warmth of her body beside yours was worth the cold that followed when she left.

But the thing about pretending? Eventually, someone forgets it's not real.

The night everything shifted, you were at Dina’s.

A party, crowded and loud, red cups everywhere. You didn’t expect Ellie to show up—she hadn’t texted in three days—but there she was: leaning against the kitchen counter, beer in hand, her gaze flicking over the crowd until it landed on you.

You were talking to someone else. Some girl from Lit class. Laughing—genuinely, for once. Ellie watched, her expression unreadable.

Later, when she cornered you outside, her breath visible in the cold, her voice cracked. “Who was that?”

You blinked. “What?”

“That girl. You were flirting.”

You laughed, bitter. “Isn’t that what we do, El? Flirt with people we don’t care about?”

She flinched like you’d slapped her. Then she kissed you.

Hard. Desperate.

You let her. Of course you did. But something inside you stayed locked this time. You didn’t fall into her like before. You didn’t cry when she left.

After that night, Ellie started showing up more.

Texting. Calling. Bringing you coffee “just because.” She’d sit too close on your couch, her hand brushing yours like a ghost of what used to be. But you didn’t let her in.

You stopped waiting for her messages. Stopped rearranging your world to fit around hers.

When she said, “Let’s hang out tonight,” you told her you had plans. No explanation. No apology.

Ellie looked stunned, almost hurt. “With who?”

You shrugged. “Does it matter?”

That night, she posted an old photo of you on her story. Just your hand in hers. No caption.

You blocked her for a week.

She showed up at your apartment. Rain-soaked. Eyes red.

“I miss you.”

You looked at her like a stranger.

“You had me,” you said softly. “And you didn’t want me.”

Ellie didn’t know how to mourn something that was never officially hers.

She spent nights lying awake, replaying your laugh, your voice, the way your fingers curled into her shirt in your sleep. She used to pretend she didn’t notice. But she did. She noticed everything.

Now, she notices your absence.

The silence in her apartment is thick with your ghost.

She tries to move on. Hooking up with someone else—a distraction. But when she touches her, all she feels is how different she is from you. The wrong perfume. The wrong laugh. The wrong everything.

She leaves before it’s over.

Back in her car, knuckles white on the steering wheel, Ellie whispers to herself, “What the fuck did I do?”

You see her again at the art building.

She’s leaning against the wall, sketchbook in hand, pretending to draw. Her eyes dart up when she spots you, and there’s that flicker of hope—raw and real.

You approach. Calm.

She straightens. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Silence. She breaks first. “Can we talk?”

You nod. “Sure.”

You walk beside her, down quiet paths where words feel louder. She tells you everything. How she was scared. How she didn’t think she deserved you. How she messed it all up.

“I’m ready now,” she says. “For real. I want—”

You hold up a hand.

“Ellie…” You meet her eyes. Steady. “I don’t want that anymore.”

She freezes. Like her heart stops.

“You—what?”

“I don’t want to go back,” you say. “Not after how it felt to be your ‘almost.’ I won’t do it again.”

You see it hit her. The panic. The grief. And still—you don’t flinch.

“I’m sorry, Ellie,” you whisper. “But I stopped waiting for you.”

Later, Ellie listens to “Save Your Tears” on repeat.

She finally understands the lyrics now. Every word.

“I broke your heart like someone did to mine…”

She used to think heartbreak made her immune.

Now, she knows it just made her cruel

You move on.

Not with anyone else—not yet—but with yourself. You go to therapy. You heal. You fill your days with things that make you feel whole again. Not dependent on someone’s half-hearted love.

Ellie tries, once more. She leaves flowers. A letter.

You don’t read it.

You leave the flowers on your doorstep until they wilt.

It’s not about punishment—it’s about peace.

You don’t cry for her anymore.

She watches you from a distance sometimes, wondering if she ever really knew you. If she ever deserved to.

She doesn’t chase again.

She finally learns what it means to lose someone who loved you completely.

You let Ellie into your apartment one night, not out of love—out of curiosity.

She stands awkwardly near the door, like she knows she’s trespassing somewhere sacred.

“I’m not here to mess things up,” she says. “I just… needed to see you.”

You nod slowly, arms crossed.

“I never knew how to love you right,” she says, voice low. “But I never stopped wanting to try.”

You tilt your head. “Ellie, wanting to try means nothing when I was begging for it before.”

Her face crumples.

You let her cry.

But you don’t hold her this time.

You just say, gently, “Go home, Ellie.”

Two years later, you meet again. Different city. Different lives.

She looks older. Softer. Worn down in the way heartbreak shapes you.

You talk. Lightly. Carefully. Like a bandage being peeled.

“I never loved anyone after you,” she admits.

You smile. “I loved myself after you.”

There’s silence.

And then, for the first time, Ellie smiles too.

No expectations. Just understanding.

Sometimes love isn’t a second chance. Sometimes it’s knowing when to let go.

You sit in your apartment, tea in hand, the rain tapping against the window. You used to cry every time it rained.

Now it’s just weather.

You think about how far you've come.

How love isn’t meant to be begged for, or bargained with.

And if Ellie ever really loved you, she’ll learn that too.

You close your eyes. You are whole.

And finally—

You don’t miss her.

148 notes · View notes

reinreingoawayy · 5 months ago

Text

— before it all ends

part i | part ii | part iii

sae itoshi x f!reader | angst (sorry) | kissing

wc : 1.7k

it was never your intention to like sae itoshi. but you did.

after that little kissing incident in the re al stadium, your phone has not ceased giving you a bunch of notifications every single day. there have definitely been a lot of changes in your life since then. your ex stopped his endless begging, which you were delighted about since that was your real intention why did you do the stupid thing of kissing sae. but there were definitely a lot more consequences than gains from your reckless actions, one being you, receiving a lot of annoying messages and questions regarding sae. every time you open your socials, there are some hate comments here and there which bothered you at first, but sae would constantly remind you to ignore them.

sae proposed to have a pretend relationship with you to save your sorry ass, which until now you were still quite unsure why he would put such a “kind” act. you were quite unsure what was in it for him because every time you asked him, he’d respond with, “you’ll know soon.” you find it ridiculous and it almost feels like he’s been doing it on purpose to get even with you for kissing him out of nowhere. since that day, you apologized a thousand times which might have irritated him a lot. you could tell because it showed on his face. the way the furrow of his eyebrows gets deeper and deeper the more you utter the words sorry, apologize, or forgive, it almost seems like he’s allergic to those words.

the familiar feeling of his soft lips still ghosted your lips after all this time. it was like his soft lips had been engraved on yours and it was never meant for you to forget about it. you could still feel the way he responded to your kisses, the way he placed his hand on the back of your head so he could deepen the kiss, the way he held you until you finally decided to break it off. when those things happened to cross your mind, you could feel your heart pumping and there was this feeling of wanting more—wishing for more. the familiar butterfly sensation on your stomach starts to bother you, and you find yourself yearning for sae itoshi. you were fucked up, but you just keep on wanting more.

and since the deal that the two of you had, you found yourself talking or texting to him each day on the phone. sometimes he’d ask for some updates about your day or talk—rant—about his football. you never really had any interest in football before sae itoshi. you didn’t even know why one day, while you were in madrid, you just decided to watch a football game. maybe it was because of the sports news in the restaurant, maybe it was the conversation you overheard between two people talking about this certain football game of the year, or maybe it was because you heard about the name of a certain player that made you go to that football game that day.

the more you talk to him, the more you get to know who sae itoshi really is, and sometimes, you get so engrossed in knowing more about the real him, the one behind that arctic exterior, that you act very excited, and in turn, he’d just chuckle. his soft laughs had become music to your ears. it’s like a drug that every time you hear it, there’s an urge in you to want to hear it more. it might seem dramatic, but you’re quite thankful that he acts stoically in public. no one probably, outside his family or his closest friend, has ever heard him laugh, genuinely. his soft voice in the morning and his laughs are like golden treasures that you want to gatekeep forever.

five months after the two of you decided to have a pretend relationship, you found yourself in front of his parents, his brother, and his grandma. your heart was beating fast as anxiety swallowed you little by little in front of his family. it’s not that they were trying to kill you with their gaze (except for his brother, rin, who has a default murderous gaze). in fact, both of his parents were warm and welcoming to you, and they always had that comforting smile when they tried to talk to you. his grandma, on the other hand, was the sweetest, but for some reason, you couldn’t stop your hand from shaking.

“you good?” sae asked, holding your fisted hand.

you nodded and faked a smile. he manages to have your hand relax as he interlocks his fingers to yours. his hand is warm, compared to yours, and he has his thumb slightly caressing the back of your hand. and there it is again—the butterflies in your stomach. how could someone possibly act like that when it’s not even real?

if there’s another thing sae is good at, besides being a monster inside the pitch, it’s pretending. in a span of five months, there were only four times that you two have seen each other. the first is when he surprised you, in front of your boss by standing at the entrance of your office building as if he wasn’t attracting a lot of attention, a month after all the stuff that started it all.

the second was on your birthday. you jokingly tried to tell him that he should be there on your birthday, but he only told you that he had a practice schedule that day so he might not be able to go. it wasn’t like you were really expecting him to say yes anyway, but you were surprised to see him at your little birthday party with your friends with a bouquet of flowers in his right hand and a bag of presents in his left. you couldn’t help your smile that day, and for the first time, you felt a spark ignited in your heart.

the third time was when he visited you again, but not like the previous two that was both a surprise. that time, he informed you that he’d be seeing you, and you both spent your free days, roaming around the city like a true couple. you enjoyed those short days a lot that you didn’t even realize it was his last day with you until you got to the airport to send him back to madrid. before you let him go, you found yourself hugging him so tight as if you never wanted to let him go. you felt his arms circled around your waist as he returned the embrace, placing his face in between your shoulders and neck. your heart started beating fast as you questioned yourself about your closeness with him. you were quite unsure if it was still pretend or if it was real. you hoped it was real, but as you watched him walk into the airport, you couldn’t help but wonder, was it all for the act?

and the fourth time was when he told you that you’d be meeting his family. you remembered the moment you started to panic in front of him. you thought you heard it wrong the first time. meeting his family. you were in serious anxiety mode, but he held your shoulder as he tried to talk you through it all out. he was gentle with you and tried to reassure you that it’ll be fine.

that’s why you are with him and his family now. truly, you had no problem pretending before meeting his family. but after meeting his sweet grandma, you couldn’t help but feel a tinge of guilt in your heart. she was so excited to finally have one of his grandsons “meet the love of his life.” you bit your lip as she repeated that line every minute, it’s like torture to your soul. you can’t lie or deceive the old lady. it hurts you little by little every time you see those lovely smiles on her face.

“sae, can we talk for a sec?” you asked him after he dropped you off in front of your home after dinner with his family.

“what’s up?”

“i think we should stop this act…” you said.

there was a minute of silence between you two after you uttered those words. you bit your lip, wondering if you said it right.

“okay,” he said, and somehow, it had you a little dumbfounded. you felt a stab in your heart. maybe you weren’t expecting he’d react that way. maybe you were expecting something else.

“okay?”

“yeah. i mean the topic about us already died down so i guess it’s fine for us to stop the act now. don’t worry. i will not confirm nor deny anything about us if they ever ask me in my interviews.”

you swallowed then slowly nodded and turned your back but you didn’t walk away. you couldn’t move your legs an inch to walk away. it—the thing between you two—felt undone. there is an inexplicable heavy feeling in your heart, and for a moment, you just want to take it all back. you want to tell him what you feel about him. you want to tell him that you like him.

“before we stop all of these…” you said, your back still facing him. “can i please just do one more thing?” you asked.

“mhm…” he hummed before you met his teal blue eyes. those blue eyes that used to show no emotion, but somehow, you saw those eyes soften as they met yours.

you stepped forward and another and another and another until you were just one step away from being face-to-face with him.

‘i guess this is where it all ends.’ you told yourself before claiming his lips one last time.

the kiss wasn’t like the kiss back in madrid. it was slow and his lips were warm against yours. it’s almost saying goodbyes without actually saying it. it’s bitter and sweet.

you don’t know why you just did that, but it was as if your body has its own mind and it just does what it wants. you kissed him again and again and again. if this is your last, you tried memorizing every inch of him. his lips, his scent, the way he kisses, his touches, and everything about him.

he was a good dream.

you pulled away, took a step back, turned your back, and finally walked away.

you left him there.

before you change your mind.

before he could have the chance to kiss you again.

***

(note: part iii will be the final part and probably the longest)

#rei’s home library #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock fic #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae #sae itoshi #angst

232 notes · View notes

miraclemuncher · 11 days ago

Text

When will Fred Weasley ask you out?

tags/warnings. hogwarts setting, sixth year/gof, not beta read

wordcount. ~1100

notes. i need to get better at one shots cause how did i let this drag on to four parts?? i’m js built for the longfic life in an era of oneshots. also this is kinda rushed sorray sorray. also requests are open atm!!

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

You are beyond bloody confused.

To hell with Fred Weasley and his impractical way of expressing himself.

This is all you’ve dreamed of since he purposely knocked over his cauldron to center Snape’s ridicule on himself instead of you. Now that it was actually happening you don’t even know if it’s real.

You choose to skive off the rest of your lessons at least until lunch. You know yourself enough to figure out that you’ll only end up thinking about Fred if you do attend your morning lessons.

Washed off from the lake water, you finally leave your dormitory to get lunch.

Your friends instantly begin pestering you on why you and Fred were missing from the same lesson. He had arrived tardy, soaking wet and now you had damp shower hair.

You fill your mouth with food to avoid answering them.

Thank Merlin they finally shut up for your own good once you force twelve grapes into your mouth.

One of your friends excuses herself and says, “Um, gotta go. There’s a… I’ve got to study!”

After that, one by one your friends all start leaving with a halfassed excuse and stupid grin.

You grow more confused as you watch them file out the Great Hall.

Your questions are answered when that bloody voice speaks up from behind you.

“This seat taken?” Fred says. He takes note of your inability to respond and helps himself to the empty seat.

You spit out the twelve grapes into a bowl as politely and modestly as possible.

Fred reaches over the table and pops a different grape in his mouth. “I didn’t see you in potions,” he says after swallowing.

“I had to shower off the lake muck,” you run a hand through your wet hair. “Speaking of it, you stink.”

Fred smells himself. “You have a point.” He swings his legs over the bench style seats. “If you need me, I’ll be in the showers. Oh! And don’t forget about the chocolates!” He jogged over to a table with his friends.

You see George and Lee punch and shake him out of pride. Alicia and Angelina excitedly look at him with curiosity.

What could they be saying?

You’re still staring when Fred starts leaving the Great Hall. He looks back at you and you’re caught. You don’t know if you have any self respect left to stop staring.

Fred winks at you, then leaves through the grand doors.

Was that invitation to the showers genuine? What did Fred even mean by it?

Like, is Fred saying he’ll meet you by the showers or like, what if he said it just to say? The same way people say, catch you later, ‘cause they’re obviously not gonna be literally catching you

Wait, why are you even still thinking about this?! It’s way past his supposed shower!

Not even that! You should be paying attention to your charms lecture. You knew you should’ve skived off the rest of that day if it was just going to be like this.

Besides that, you feel George, Lee, Angelina, and Alicia stare holes in the back of your head. How did you wind up assigned to a class with all of them except Fred?

An airplane lands on your desk. You push it off and stomp on it.

Then a paper frog leaps onto your desk. It’s too cute to trample, but you also don’t have it in you to unfold it and read whatever they wrote inside.

They win when a paper butterfly flaps over to your desk and settles on your pinky. It promptly unfolded itself right then and there.

The handwriting reads, What’d you tell Fred?

You look over your shoulder to the four Gryffindors. They promptly duck their heads into their charms book to feign disinterest.

Once you turn around you instantly feel their eyes trained on your back. You make a big show of ripping the note to shreds.

They finally take the hint and don’t bother you for the rest of class.

You try to sprint out of class the moment class is dismissed.

“Hey!” George calls after you. You had hoped the crowding corridor would create enough distance. Looking over your shoulder, you see he’s ruthlessly pushing past everyone.

You reluctantly pause and let him catch up to see what he wants. It’s best to end this now rather than later.

“Have you got an answer for Fred yet?” George shouted over the bustle of the corridor.

In confusion you just squint at him.

“Come on, you’ve gotta give him an answer by the end of the day at the very least,” George impatiently whines.

Was he talking about those damn chocolates? “I’ll open them later!” You snap at the same time as the warning bell rings.

“Huh?!”

You roll your eyes and repeat, “I’ll open them later!” Having enough of George’s pestering you irritatingly say, “I’ve got to go now, George. McGonnagall has no tolerance for tardiness.”

He’s finally satisfied with your answer and triumphantly leaves. George gleefully skips over to Lee, Alicia, and Angelina. You watch him relay your answer to them and they jump in unexplainable joy.

That lot is so weird sometimes.

Who cares? You’re about to be late for class!

Fred catches you on your way leaving McGonnagall’s classroom. It’s quite pathetic how you know Fred shouldn’t be anywhere near McGonnagall’s classroom. According to his time tables you’ve memorized during the start of term, his last class is all the way at the Herbology greenhouses.

He smoothly walks beside you and says, “Open to it later, huh? Time’s ticking, y’know.” There’s a hint of desperation hiding in his tease.

You laugh in confusion. “What’re you talking about?”

“I’m just saying you need to be careful,” he shrugs. “People are gonna start thinking you’re stringing me along.”

Okay, now you’re laughing in pure disbelief. “Sorry, I’m stringing you along?” You repeat. “Very funny, Fred.”

“The Yule Ball is mere days away and you’re leaving me hanging.”

… What is Fred implying right now?

You don’t want to assume anything just yet. You’re gonna have to play it safe. Just play it cool, you got this.

And apparently playing it cool must mean stupidly staring at him in confusion. Your mind is completely blank. There’s no actually fucking way Fred is hinting that he wants to take you to the Yule ball.

Fred also passed. You just stare at him with crinkled eyebrows.

Finally, he speaks up. “Oh Merlin, George can’t even be nosy right,” Fred says mostly to himself, running his hands over his face. He starts retreating backwards, “Seriously, open the chocolates already!” He spins around and starts a light jog down the hall.

Once alone, you tear open the wrapped chocolates. Knowing better than to bite into one after they’ve taken a dip into the Great Lake, you instead break the chocolate in uneven halves.

It crackles into a small firework show.

Fireworks sparkling of your favorite colors spell out Will You Go To the Yule Ball With Me?

So that’s what the twins have been causing a ruckus over all day.

When will Fred Weasley ask you out?

Apparently he did it this morning.

#fred weasley #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred weasly x reader #fred weasley x yn #harry potter fanfiction

106 notes · View notes

shegetsburned · 1 year ago

Text

❝ somethin’ stupid like i love you ❞ w. shiu kong ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .

.nsfw.

• — content. shiu realizes he’s slowly falling for you and absolutely hates it. • — author’s note. coming back of hiatus with this! part of my fwb shiu content. feel free to send suggestions for this trope btw <3

˗ˏˋʚ fwb!shiu who genuinely thinks this whole thing is suspicious. it has never happened before. there’s no way he’s thinking about you this much. you must be playing a game he isn’t aware of.

˗ˏˋʚ fwb!shiu who after a few months, made many more calls and asked for you more often than the usual one day a week. it has come to three to four days and even when you were busy he found ways to clear your schedule and have you all to himself.

˗ˏˋʚ fwb!shiu who has gotten rougher and less patient when he fucks you. as soon as he steps through the door his hands are all over you and his warm breath covers your neck like he had been waiting all day to finally get a sample of your addicting scent.

˗ˏˋʚ fwb!shiu who has a habit of “forgetting” his jacket or his pack of cigarettes at your place just to call you a few hours later to pass by and get his items back. little did you know it was just to see you some more.

˗ˏˋʚ fwb!shiu who stays longer and doesn’t leave you as soon as he’s done. to your surprise, he stays until you fall asleep or sometimes when you’re lucky, shares a bath or a shower with you. nothing sexual, he just prefers to stay clean and helps you in the process.

you two have easy conversations about anything and everything without being scared of the other’s judgment. shiu likes to talk about anything as long as it doesn’t involve work and you love it when his deep chuckle resonates in your ears.

˗ˏˋʚ fwb!shiu who has asked himself several times why he always needed to come back to you. he never realized how much he looked forward to these intimate moments which contradicted the whole accord you guys had made. this was supposed to be temporary and, now, he couldn’t go two days without the touch of your skin against his.

˗ˏˋʚ fwb!shiu who begins to open up more about his work and clients. how uninteresting and full of cash they are, how good the pay is and how easy it is to fool scared millionaires. more importantly, he had told you in total confidence that he thought about quitting his job. it may have been easy money but it wasn’t the most morally fulfilling job.

˗ˏˋʚ fwb!shiu who, for the first time, has stayed the night, sleeping in with you. you thought you’d awoke to an empty side of the bed, like always, but here he was, peacefully sleeping. needless to say, you had never seen him reveal this side of himself. he looked so comfortable, you were the one to leave first that morning.

˗ˏˋʚ fwb!shiu who cursed himself for falling asleep in your bed, but it felt so good and he was so tired that his body had just given out. he made sure to gather everything before leaving in a hurry. no jacket or packs forgotten, only leaving his fresh and rich smell of smoke all over your apartment.

˗ˏˋʚ fwb!shiu who was distracted at work. his thoughts diverged to his hands trailing your curves and your perfect lips he wanted to taste so badly. the feeling pierced his heart. did he actually miss you?

˗ˏˋʚ fwb!shiu who tried to dismiss his feelings by taking a small break from you and hooking up with different girls. despite his best efforts, nothing felt right when he was fucking them. he was quick and uninterested. it was so boring without you.

˗ˏˋʚ fwb!shiu who, determined to not fall into your meaningless trap, has finally decided to give you one final call. he’d explain everything to you in person.

˗ˏˋʚ fwb!shiu who got lost in time and ended up pussy drunk, between your legs, once again squeezing his soft tongue into your tight pussy. after all these sessions, he came to be the best at eating you out and knowing precisely how you wanted to be touched and handled.

“god- i fucking love you, [y/n].” he murmurs against your sloppy entrance, heavy breath itching at your skin and you can’t quite discern his sentence before panic finally sets in.

it comes out so easily out of his mouth, between two pants, like praise he had said over and over again. he doesn’t even notice, but you do. oh, yes you do.

˗ˏˋʚ fwb!shiu who continues to place wet kisses on your inner thighs but you had stopped clenching the sheets to stare at him, eyes wide open. shiu was so strict about following the rules he had personally set, to maintain this kind of relationship and here he was saying that he loved you. what a fool.

˗ˏˋʚ fwb!shiu who’s so mesmerized by your euphoric scent that he hasn’t yet become aware of the fact that he accidentally confessed to you. you can feel your heartbeat fasten and your pulse through your ears when he pronounces the words. your pink-tinted cheeks betray how flustered you are.

˗ˏˋʚ fwb!shiu who brings you back to reality with a guttural groan as he dives back against your dripping folds, his nose pressing against your clit. his hands open up your legs more as you give out the meaningless fight and fall deeper into his delicious embrace.

“f-fuck.. wait- aaah- shiu..”

your mind’s hazy from the pleasure but you’re still thinking about his words. you wonder if it was only in the heat of the moment or a true confession he couldn’t have hidden much longer.

˗ˏˋʚ fwb!shiu who had promised to never kiss you in fear of his emotions getting the best of him, but this night was different. your puffy pink lips were looking particularly pretty and captivating. he wasn’t one to break promises but his self-control was hanging on by a thread when he was so drunk over you. he moved upward, parting with your needy cunt to place a trail of light kisses along your chest, from your belly all the way to your neck.

˗ˏˋʚ fwb!shiu who doesn’t hesitate further. his whole body’s covering yours when he leans into your neck, nibbling at the skin before capturing your lips in a hot and steamy kiss. he’s breathing the amount of air you have left, causing you to stop him abruptly, your fingers pushing his lips away. he’s taken aback, his eyes questioning yours with your skin still blocking his lips.

˗ˏˋʚ fwb!shiu who looks perplex, like he missed an episode. what were you so tense all of a sudden? wasn’t he doing enough? you always loved the way he ate you out, so what’s changed? of course, he had forgotten about the kissing rule, but the flustered gaze you were wearing told him something else bothered you the most.

˗ˏˋʚ fwb!shiu whose gaze goes from your wet lips to your eyes. he knows what he did wrong but the memory of his confession is still blurry. delicately enough, he wraps his hand around your wrist to free his mouth. you whisper his name, panting, but he cuts you off almost immediately.

“don’t read too much into what i say when we’re fuckin’, angel.”

he’s trying to defend himself. truth is he was almost ashamed of slipping out to you like that. exposing his buried feelings to you made him want to disappear, especially considering the face you were wearing right now.

˗ˏˋʚ fwb!shiu who’s reluctant to talk about it, he doesn’t want to talk about his feelings, he just wants to fuck you. had he forgotten why he came here in the first place? he had never gone this far with any of the girls he was fucking before and here he was, almost completely naked and so drunk over you that your pussy wasn’t enough for a taste. wasn’t he supposed to talk to you about terminating this affair?

˗ˏˋʚ fwb!shiu who was embarrassed to be so vulnerable when it came to you. he quickly regains his senses, moving away to give you enough space to sit up and wrap your sweating figure with the sheets.

“why are you so ashamed of it, shiu?”

he shakes his head frenetically. god. you didn’t understand anything did you? being obsessed with you wasn’t in any of his plans. he needed to get out of this situation quickly, otherwise he’d simply betray himself further.

“we can’t do this anymore. I’m ending our deal.” he says, skillfully putting his belt back with his clenched back muscles exposed to your sight.

his words were frustrating. was it your fault? was it you that he was so ashamed to love? “you were the one to break the rules, shiu.”

˗ˏˋʚ fwb!shiu who brushes it off, buttoning his white shirt back on. his hands travel inside his pockets, desperately searching for a cigarette. it was so annoying. it was so annoying that you could see right through him and that he had no power over it. he had no power over his feelings for you and it was infuriating.

˗ˏˋʚ fwb!shiu who refuses to explain any further. the last thing he said before leaving your place was that you didn’t have to expect anymore calls or texts from him.

what he didn’t say was that he wanted to stay so badly. he wanted, without shame, to tell you how you made him feel but his pride inevitably got the best of him and he left without another word, leaving you naked in your bed, wondering how the hell you were so hung up on such a confused man.

#—﹙🎐﹚𑣲 by yours truly﹒#shiu smut #jjk smut #shiu kong smut #shiu kong #jjk shiu #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #shiu x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #shiu x y/n

811 notes · View notes

munsonsmixtapes · 4 months ago

Text

Just You and Me: Part Three

Steve x Eddie x fem!reader

You have a sex dream about Steve and Eddie which only makes you want them more. At Lucas's basketball game, the three of you realize that you want each other and things between you and Steve progress into something you never thought would happen.

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex (wrap it before you smack it)

And once again, special thanks to @the-witty-pen-name for helping me out with this because I genuinely couldn't have finished this without her!

part one part two

Your hands scratch down his back as he pounds into you, your moans and heavy breaths mix together in the air. Your sweaty bodies are pressed together, filthy words falling from his lips, telling you how pretty you look underneath him, how good you’re taking him. You’re so close, you can feel it. And as he looks down at you, encouraging you, moaning his name so loudly as he continues to fuck you senseless.

“Steve,” you moan and suddenly, your eyes are wide open. You’re pouring sweat as you sit up in your bed. Did you really just have sex dream about your best friend? The whole thing plays out in your head again and again and you’re not sure how to feel about it.

Maybe it’s because you’re not making a lot of progress with Eddie so you’re projecting your feelings onto Steve. Or maybe there’s a part of you that has repressed your feelings and now they’re manifesting into dreams. It just feels so…strange. You’ve never had a sex dream about Steve before. It’s uncharted territory and you’re not sure how you should go about it.

He’s the person you want to talk to about it, but you can’t. So you go to the next best thing. You hurry across the hall and knock on Robin’s door furiously. It could probably wait until morning, but you feel like you need to tell her when it’s fresh in your mind. Not that you’d forget the details of something like that so easily.

She opens the door half asleep, her hair mussed and an imprint of her wrinkled sheets on her cheek. You now feel bad for disturbing her sleep, but since you’ve already woken her up, you might as well just tell her what you came here for.

You push the door open and invite yourself in, making yourself at home on her bed like you’ve done so many times before. For once, you don’t feel welcome as she glares at you from the doorway. You gently pat the spot next to you and she begrudgingly listens. She sits beside you and crosses her arms over her chest, her glare even more intense as she waits for you to tell her what was so important that you had to wake her up at three o’clock in the morning.

You’re afraid to say it. The words already feel weird and foreign on your tongue and you’re not even sure how exactly to say them. Your eyebrows furrow as you try your best to figure out how to word your situation. But you’re struggling and the confusion of the situation piles up in your head and you eventually blurt it all out.

“I had a sex dream about Steve,” you tell her, your words all strung together into one. She apparently heard you because her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Her eyes widen as what you’ve said really sinks in. She stays silent, honestly unsure how to respond. She doesn’t know what she was expecting you to say, but it definitely wasn’t that.

“You had a sex dream about Steve…Steve Harrington? Your best friend?”

“I know it sounds crazy.” You rest your head in your hands and she’s quick to rub your back gently. She knows that will help when words won’t.

“It doesn’t, actually,” she corrects. “I think your fake relationship might be bleeding into your real life.” She says the words with a bit of humor in her voice and you can’t tell if she’s being genuine or if she’s trying to make a joke. Perhaps a bit of both.

Robin doesn’t know why you’re surprised by this. She swore you knew just how in love with Steve you were and is surprised that you’re freaking out about a sex dream about him. But apparently you don’t know since you’re panicking next to her.

“Okay,” she says. “Let’s take some deep breaths.” Together, you breathe in and out slowly and it does help, but only a little. Once you’re calm enough, you turn to her, ready to hear whatever she has to say.

“Do you want to know what I think?” She asks and you just give her a glare. Of course you want to know what she thinks. That’s the whole reason why you work her up. “Okay, sorry. I think-well, what I’ve observed over the years is that you maybe actually do like Steve in that way.”

“Not a chance,” you shake your head. “I like Eddie, remember? That’s the whole reason why Steve and I have been fake dating.”

“Then how do you explain the dream, y/n?” She gives you a pointed look. “Look, you know I love you, but I really need to sleep. So, I’ll let you think about it and we can talk when it’s actually light outside, alright?” She pats your back then sends you on your way, pushing you out into the hallway.

Once the door slams in your face, you head back to your own room and try to go back to sleep but your mind is flooded with the most inappropriate thoughts of Steve. They get even more intense, so vivid that it’s almost like it’s actually happening to you. This is one moment where you wish he was there to take care of you.

Right now all you have to rely on is your fingers but you can just pretend that they’re Steves to make that much better. You’re pumping them in and out, imagining Steve hovering over you, telling you how good you’re doing, how pretty you look on his fingers and it’s actually doing the trick.

You’re moaning, pressing your other hand to your mouth to keep you quiet. But this one doesn’t feel like Steve’s. Your eyes open and you see Eddie come into view. His hand is rougher than Steve’s. You feel the callouses so clearly as if he’s really there and you hate that this is just something you’re making up in your mind.

“Shh,” he says as your eyes flutter shy so you can imagine it better. “We don’t want to wake up Rob, do we?” He winks, his fingers working even faster and you know it’s so soon, but you’re so close to coming already.Steve’s just doing it so well, curving his fingers in just the right way and he’s looking down at you with a devilish grin as he watches you, pressing his hand further down onto your mouth as you scream his name.

“That’s our good girl,” he says with a proud smile as he removes his fingers from you and licks them clean as a reward for making you feel so good before giving Eddie a taste.

“Gonna need some more,” he smiles down at you and presses his lips to yours before moving lower, pushing your shirt up so he can kiss down your stomach. Once he gets to the spot right above your cunt, he presses a kiss there before spreading your legs wide, hooking them over his shoulders before diving straight in.

Steve is now behind him, pushing his face further into your cunt as he works and you let out a gasp. He then moves to where you’re laying and has you sit up so he can slide behind you. As Eddie is eating your pussy like a man starved, Steve is encouraging you with his words as his fingers run through your hair over and over.

The whole thing feels so real that you almost can’t believe that it’s not. How are you supposed to go on with your life knowing that you’ll never be able to experience it in real life. You come yet again but Eddie doesn’t pull away, continuing to go at your cunt with even more force this time. Once you’ve come once again, he finally pulls away and you shut your eyes, wondering how all of this could be real.

But it’s not. When you open them again, they’ve disappeared and you remove your fingers from yourself, filled with nothing but disappointment as you get up to wash your hands then head back to bed where you’re actually able to fall asleep this time.

When you wake up a few hours later, you turn onto the other side of the bed and feel nothing but disappointment as you see that it’s empty. So you really did dream all of that and it wasn’t real like you so desperately want it to be. You feel pathetic now as you roll out of bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you trudge into the kitchen to get some much needed coffee.

But when you head into the kitchen, Steve and Eddie are at the stove, giggling to each other as they make breakfast together. They’re both shirtless and you feel like you’re on fire as you head over and go to pour yourself some coffee, but the two of them turning towards you stops you in your tracks.

“Good morning sleepy head,” Steve greets with a smile.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Eddie mimics his smile and you look down to see that he’s holding your favorite mug out to you and it’s filled with coffee that’s already prepared exactly the way you like. You blink a couple of times to make them go away, but it doesn’t matter how many times you do because they’re still very much there.

“Did you sleep well?” Steve asks, puckering his lips and you lean in to give him what he wants. As soon as you pull away, you see Eddie doing the same thing so you give him a kiss too.

You’re dreaming so hard that you can actually feel their lips on yours. It’s so real that you can almost reach out and touch them. But you have to remind yourself that this is just some crazy thing that your brain cooked up. Maybe Robin was right and your faking dating really is bleeding into your real life because a few weeks ago, it would have just been Eddie.

“I did,” you nod and Steve serves you some eggs and bacon while Eddie puts a couple of pancakes onto the plate and you take it to the table just in time to zone back into real life.

“Y/n,” Robin practically screams and you shake your head, looking down and seeing that she’s holding a plate filled with the food you just imagined.

“Sorry, what?” You ask, shaking your head.

“Where is your head today?” She asks with a sigh. “Probably still thinking about Steve,” she teases and you glare at her, refraining from telling her the details of what actually happened when you went back to bed. It’s now bordering on giving too much information and you’re worried about what she’d say if you actually gave her the details of what happened with both of them.

“You could say that,” you nod. “And I think I’m gonna tell him the truth.” You plan to sit them down and tell them the full truth and they can decide what happens from there even though all you want to do is run far far away and avoid them both for the foreseeable future.

“Good for you,” she nudges your shoulder and you take the plate from her with a smile. “You could tell him at the game.” Oh shit. That’s right, it’s Lucas’s last game before he graduates high school so you all wanted to show up and support him.

“Right,” you nod before shoveling a mouthful of eggs into your mouth so avoid having to speak to her any longer. And with that, she heads out the door to head to work where you’re going to pick her up after the game.

You’re finally left with your own thoughts and try your hardest not to slip back into your fantasy no matter how badly you want to. You’re sure that the first one altered your brain chemistry and now you’re not capable of thinking about anything else.

You can still vividly feel Steve’s fingers inside of you and Eddie’s head between your thighs. It all just felt so real and now you’re getting desperate for the real thing even though you’re sure that you’re not going to get it.

“So how’s the fake dating going?” Robin asks as he stands behind Steve as he types away on the computer.

“Fine,” he replies, giving her a look. She’s been bothering him since he got there and he’s so close to faking sick to go home and get away from her. She’s always nosy but seems to be especially so this morning. “Rob, is there something you want to tell me?” He asks, turning around to face her and her cheeks pink which means that she definitely does.

“No,” she shakes her head, biting down on her bottom lip. She can’t believe that you told her about your dream about him because now all she wants to do is tell Steve. She’s been wanting the two of you to get together for years and now she knows that if he knows about the dream, he’ll stop being a dingus and tell you the truth about how much he loves you.

“Really?” He glares. “Because there has to be a reason why you keep hovering. So tell me what it is.”

“It’s none of my business,” she shrugs. “Maybe you should ask y/n.”

“Ask y/n about what?” His arms are crossed over his chest now as he leans against the counter. He honestly has no idea what the fuck you’re talking about and thinks he deserves some sort of explanation.

“Just forget I said anything, alright? We both I’m a blabber mouth.”

“You’ve been acting weird all day so there’s clearly something she told you to hide from me so what is it?” Steve’s getting angry now, just wanting her to tell him the truth about whatever you’re hiding from him.

“I told you, just ask y/n. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go on my break.” She heads towards the break room, leaving Steve alone with his thoughts. They immediately go to you like always and for once, he’s actually anxious about being alone with you. Not only because you’ve been doing this whole fake dating thing for weeks now but also because he’s nervous about what you could possibly have to say that Robin can’t tell him. She’s such a blabbermouth and could tell him anything so he’s getting really worried about what all of this could be concerning.

He also can’t help but want to ask you how much longer the whole thing is going to take because he’s not sure how much more he can do. He’s fallen even harder for you and it’s so painful for you to fake it with him and sit by and watch you pine for someone else. But he’s just so pathetically in love with you that he’s willing to do anything you ask. Even if that means helping you get another guy.

He’s spent weeks letting himself get hurt because he just wants to make you happy, but no more. He’s putting his foot down. After the game, he’s going to lay it all out on the table, his feelings, how he’s been feeling about your little scheme, everything. He just can’t keep it inside anymore. It’s just hurting him too much to continue to keep this big of a secret from you. He should have told you a long time ago, but he was just too afraid of losing you. Now he just wants the truth to be out there and stop acting like he’s not madly in love with you.

When you meet him at his house so you can go to the game together, his heart races in his chest. It’s to the point where he has you drive because he can’t focus on anything else. All he can think about is how badly he feels like he’s going to throw up. He’s never been so nervous around you but knowing how much is riding in this, he can’t help but feel anxious.

“I don’t drive that badly, do I?” you joke as Steve grabs onto the handle that’s attached to the roof. You don’t drive great, but he’s not going to tell you the real reason why he’s freaking out.

“Oh, it’s not that, I’m just feeling a little sick to my stomach.” He’s not technically lying so he doesn’t feel bad for telling you as such.

“Do you want me to take you home?” He appreciates the gesture but he’s just going to power through. That’s what Harringtons do.

“I’m not missing Lucas’s last game,” he shakes his head, offended that you would even suggest it.

You know Steve well enough to know that there’s something he’s not telling you and you’re going to figure out what. He never keeps things from you so you wonder what he’s being so secretive about. He’s been acting weird since you picked him up and you want to know why. As much as you want to ask, though, you refrain because you don’t want to cause tension before the game.

It’s quiet in the car except for the mixtape that’s playing softly. For the first time in your fifteen years of friendship, neither of you have anything to say which is odd since the two of you never seem to be able to stop yapping. But now the awkward tension is palpable because both of you have things you want to say, but you’re too afraid. It’s so weird because you can usually talk about anything and you do, telling each other everything that’s going on in your lives no matter how embarrassing.

But this is different. These are things that are going to undoubtedly change your friendship so the both of you are going to put it off as long as possible to avoid potential rejection or awkwardness. As much as you want to tell Steve the truth, you’re just so nervous about how he’s going to react, especially because Eddie was included in it.

And you would just leave that part out, but you feel like he deserves the whole truth no matter how much you don’t want to tell him. At this point, you’re dreading having to sit next to him for a few hours because the dream has been all you’ve been able to think about since it happened. It’s invaded your every thought to the point where you have the three of you act it out perfectly. Not that that would ever happen because you’re not sure that either of them would be up for that sort of thing.

As soon as you pull up to the school, you wordlessly get out of the car and reluctantly take each other’s hands just in case Eddie appears out of nowhere. He’s supposed to meet you any second now so you just want to be ready.

But now since you’ve been able to see Steve differently, his hand feels nice in yours, like it’s supposed to be there. Now you just wish Eddie was holding your other hand. If it felt that good clamped over your mouth, you just know you’d like how it felt against yours, your fingers intertwined.

You enter the school, looking around for the metalhead, but he’s nowhere to be found. Not surprising considering the fact that it’s so crowded because it’s the last game of the season. You know he’ll be there soon so you decide that you’ll just save him a seat.

Steve is guiding you through the crowd, standing behind you with his hands on your shoulders, making sure that you don’t get lost as you make your way towards the bleachers. His hands are protective, strong as he walks behind you like he’s your bodyguard.

You can’t believe that you’re just now understanding women’s attraction to him. You always knew he was attractive, obviously, but now you get it. You now want him in the way that other women have. You want to grab onto his hair as he fucks you absolutely senseless, to leave scratches down his back that he can show off at the pool.

He’s leading you up the stairs and you have to keep yourself from tripping as the dirty thoughts come back in. You don’t know how to stop them but you’re not sure that you want to. At this point, this is the only way you’re ever going to get any action and that's totally fine with you.

Steve is on the bottom as he’s fucking you like his life depends on it while Eddie is behind you, going as hard as he can. It’s nothing but overstimulating but you don’t dare ask them to stop. It just feels too good. Dirty words are spilling from their mouths and you’d expect this from Eddie but it’s odd to hear from Steve. You’ve never seen this side of him but are starting to wish you had sooner.

Steve grabs hold of your hand and continues to lead you up the stairs to one of the top rows where Robin is sitting with Vicky who both wave at you. You look down and smile at the joined hands, really hoping that this one sticks. You know how much Robin really likes her and want this to last forever if it can. She deserves that.

You and Steve head into the row and he pulls you close so more people can fit. You’re so close that your thigh is pressed to his. You can feel the heat emanating from his body and wonder how the hell he’s always so warm. It’s actually unfair sometimes. And it reminds you how cold Eddie always is, the two of them exact opposites.

You lean over and see that he’s not next to Robin like you assumed he would be. He’s still not here yet and you just hope he’s late because he made a promise to Lucas and there’s no way in hell that you’re letting him break it.

“Where’s Eddie?” You ask Robin and she just shrugs, clearly having no idea. So you slump in your seat, Steve reaching over and rubbing your shoulder sympathetically as you scan the crowd for your friend.

Eddie’s fucking late and he knows that. He had every intention of being on time, early even, but this deal is taking way longer than he expected. He just wanted to pocket some extra money but the guy is trying to haggle even though with the deal Eddie’s giving him, it might as well be free. He’s tapping his foot against the pavement of the parking lot as he periodically checks his watch. The game is about to start and he knows he’s going to get an earful from you.

As soon as the deal is made, he shoves the plastic bag into the guy’s hands before racing towards the building, hoping that he’s not too late. But as soon as he gets into the gym, the game has started and he doesn’t even know where you’re sitting so he unknowingly sits on the opposite side of the gym where thankfully Gareth has saved him a seat.

He doesn’t know why he’s scanning the crowd for you when there’s too many people to even see where you are. He just wants to see you. You haven’t seemed to have enough time for him since you started seeing Steve and he hates that he misses when you were single when the two of you would play at the arcade all the time.

He shakes his head and tries to focus on the game, seeing Lucas race across the court and feeling a sense of pride even though he doesn’t care at all about the sport. Seeing a kid who’s been like his little brother doing something he’s so passionate about makes him so happy even though he doesn’t fully understand the hype around basketball or sports as a whole.

As hard as he tries, his mind still keeps going back to you, to you and Steve. He doesn’t know why, but he finds himself wondering if the two of you have-no that’s none of his business. So why is he imagining Steve kissing his way down your naked body and why does-why does he like it? There’s something about seeing the two of you fucking that’s awakening something in him.

You’re trying really hard to focus on the game and cheering Lucas on, but all you’re able to think about is how angry you are at Eddie. This is such an important night for Lucas and you know how much he looks up to Eddie so the fact that he isn’t here is making your blood fucking boil. He made a promise to the kid and now he’s probably doing a stupid deal which makes it clear where his priorities lie.

Steve, on the other hand, doesn’t understand why you’re so upset. Sure, he knows how much it would mean for Eddie to be here for Lucas, but he doesn’t see what that has to do with you. Maybe it’s because you’re focused on Eddie once again, not even seeing what’s right in front of you. Steve has been there for you all along, never once missing a single game and you don’t bat an eye. You clearly don’t see how much he does for you and it pisses him off.

But he decides it’s best if he’s there for you. Being mad at you is going to do nothing but make him miserable so he slips his hand into yours and gives it a squeeze which you clearly appreciate since you squeeze back. You turn and give him a weak smile and he returns it before the two of you turn your attention back to the game.

The teams are tied and the tigers just need one more basket in order to win. It’s Lucas’s shot and everyone seems to be on the edge of their seats as weaves his way around the other players with the ball. He launches it into the air and it falls through the hoop with ease, sending the crowd into cheers. The score changes on the board and his teammates lift him on their shoulders, chanting his name as he beams, looking around the gym, seeing that everyone who was cheering for his name is not chanting his name.

You turn to Steve with a bright smile and in the excitement of the moment, you’re quick to embrace each other, pressing your lips together in a heated kiss. You pull away from each other, giggles spilling from your lips before you take him by the hand and head down to the court to congratulate Lucas.

Hugs are passed around and you still don’t see Eddie, but that’s the least of your worries. You’re focusing on Lucas and how proud you are of him as you pull him into a hug. It’s crazy how time flies because how is it that you’ve already known him for six years? If you look at him close enough, you can see the twelve year old that you met all those years ago. And now he’s eighteen and about to go off to college.

You and Steve flee the gym, leaving Lucas to celebrate with his team and now you’re figuring out how to tell him about the dream you had, wondering how he’ll react, especially when you tell him that Eddie was in it too.

The tension is palpable again and Steve’s no longer thinking about what you might need to tell him, now trying to figure how he can get another kiss because he’s so desperate for it. He hasn’t forgotten about your first kiss in his living room and he’s been waiting for one that was real and not just because Eddie was looking.

The two of you head to his car hand in hand and you feel the nervousness building inside you as you try to figure out how to word everything. You really wish you had written yourself a script, but it’s too late now.

As soon as the two of you are alone in your car, you just blurt the words, feeling a weight lift off you as soon as they leave your mouth. The pressure on your chest is now relieved but you can’t even get yourself to look Steve in the eye yet. You feel like he deserves to have a second to really process what you’ve just said.

Steve sits there, his lips parting to respond, but he doesn’t know what to say. He never thought you’d say something like that. Having a sex dream about Eddie? Sure, that’s bound to happen, but you having one about both of them? Well, that changes things.

He’s always thought Eddie was hot, he’s not blind. And sure, maybe he’s had a dirty thought about the guy a time or two in the shower, but that’s it. But you told him your dirty little secret, maybe his should be revealed too. Who cares if you know? You already know that he’s bi so what’s the harm in telling you the truth?

But he doesn’t do it. He’s cocky now, wanting to know exactly what you saw in that pretty little head of yours. What position were you in? Was it soft and sweet or were they pounding into you? He wants to know every dirty little detail.

“Yeah?” He asks, pushing some of your hair behind your ear, moving closer so that his lips are right by it. “Were you turned on? I bet you were.”

Your cheeks heat at not only his proximity and his breath on your skin, but his words, they sound so filthy. And now you need him to tell you more in that husky voice that’s definitely not making you wet.

“Yes,” you reply, suddenly feeling nervous, but you don’t know why. It’s Steve, your best friend since you could crawl. But this is different. Ever since your dream about him, he’s been Steve, so much emphasis on him that you haven’t even really spared Eddie a second glance.

You feel like if you do this right here, it’ll change everything between the two of you, but you honestly don’t care. It’s like he wore those fucking cut offs on purpose. Now you so desperately want to see them on the floorboard of the back seat. And you’re too mad at Eddie right now to feel bad for taking advantage of this moment with Steve.

“That’s hot,” he says, nipping at your earlobe. His lips ghost over your neck and you move your head to the side to give him more space. It’s a gentle kiss but your skin is on fire from the contact. “You’re hot.”

You’re sweating now and you’re not sure because of how warm it is outside or because of how much it’s heating up in Steve’s car. His nose slides against your neck and you can hear him take a slight inhale.

“You smell so good,” he mumbles then pulls away, looking you in the eyes with his honey ones. His pupils are blown wide and he’s got on a devilish grin that’s making you feel even more hot. “Let’s see how you taste.”

He grabs hold of your jaw and tilts your head back. He watches your lips part and can practically see the gears turning. He knows you like the back of his hand but tonight, he has no idea what you’re thinking.

“Is this okay?” He asks and you just want him to get on with it. You’re getting antsy so you have to take matters into your own hands. You bunch his shirt in your hand and press your lips to his. His tongue flicks into your mouth and you moan at the feeling of it moving with yours.

His hands are in your hair and he’s grabbing fistfuls, giving it a yank to hear that pretty sound again. And you do, unknowingly playing right into his hand. He’s got you right where he wants you and he’s fully prepared to take advantage.

His hands slide up your tank top and you break away to lift your arms so he can finish the job. It’s off in an instant and he can’t help but stare. Seeing you in a bra, here, like this, it’s new. And now he needs to see you out of it. Now.

He’s hard beyond belief and he really needs to get inside you. He needs to show you just how much he loves you, to make this whole thing real between the two of you.

He takes the leap and gets into the backseat with you following closely behind him. You sit side by side and it’s so easy to pick up where you left off, like you do this all the time. You take the lead and straddle his waist, grinding against him, feeling him moan into your mouth.

He’s rock hard against you and you want to just go for it, but he’s going to have to beg first. Sing for his supper. So you continue to grind, hearing him whine and moan, just waiting for him to ask.

“Fuck me, please,” he begs and you swear you’ve never seen someone look so pathetic. You bring your lips to his as you unbutton his shorts, moving to where he can get them off and they’re thrown into the passenger seat like he’s so tired of wearing them.

Together, you try your best to undress each other in the cramped backseat. Clothes are flying left and right, strewn across the car and as soon as you both are naked, he’s pinning you to the seat, your back flush to the leather.

“Fuck,” he swears, so much emphasis on the word as his eyes rake down the body. “This is what you’ve been hiding from me? Jesus, you’re so hot.”

Steve’s about to reach into the pocket of his jeans-wherever they ended up-for a condom, but then he remembers that he doesn’t have one. He knows you’re on birth control but he doesn’t want to just assume you’d be okay with him not using protection.

“I-I don’t have a condom,” he tells you, almost sounding disappointed.

“That’s okay. I’m on birth control.” You’re so quick to respond, like he’s asking you what kind of toppings you want on your pizza. This is a big deal and he’s not sure why you were so quick to respond.

“I know but-“

“Steve, it’s fine, I trust you.” I trust you. That’s right, you trust him. He has to remind himself that he’s not some sleazy guy you met at the bar. He’s Steve, your best friend and your safety is his number one priority.

“If you’re sure.”

“I am,” you nod and he knows you mean it. So he lines himself up with you and slowly slides in, watching you the entire time. It’s a bit tight, but it won’t be by the time he’s done with you.

He presses you further into the seat as he thrusts slowly, wanting to test the waters first. He was so cocky before and now that he’s finally gotten here, he’s suddenly a little nervous. But seeing you look up at him with that pretty smile, he gets the encouragement he needs to keep going.

He’s thrusting faster now, getting deeper inside with every inch, but now he finds himself wondering where Eddie would be in this situation. Would he be trying to please you or Steve or both? Steve bets he’s really good at dirty talk and what he would give for that right now.

Your moans and breaths are mixing in the air, already starting to fog up the windows. You sound so pretty and you look it too and he’s wondering when he’s going to wake up from the dream. It’s got to be the best one yet.

He feels guilty about letting Eddie sneak into his mind, but he can’t help it. Now that he knows that you possibly want them both, he can’t help but wonder what a threesome between of you would be like.

“Faster,” you whine and he wants nothing but to please you so he does what you ask, trying to wipe the thought of Eddie out of his head and focus on you, now pounding into you, working as hard as he can to make his girl feel good.

Your hips buck against his and he responds by going even deeper, fitting all of himself inside you as he sees tears pricking your eyes.

“My dick’s that good, huh?” He asks as wipes your tears away, but he keeps going, pounding into you again and again with as much force as he can.

You hate how his cockiness is turning you on. You’re eating up how highly he thinks of himself and how confident he is that he can please you like this. Considering you feel like you’re already close, you know he’s doing everything right.

“Look at you, taking me so well, honey. You look so pretty underneath me.” He knows exactly what to say to drive you crazy and you already feel like your brain is mush and you haven’t even come yet.

He’s pounding so fast and hard that you’re having trouble keeping up as you buck your hips against his, your bodies moving in rhythm together, trying so hard to not think about how much he wants to be between the two of you, feeling Eddie’s rock hard cock pounding into his ass. It’s getting out of hand right now but he doesn’t even care. He has no idea that you’re thinking the same, imagining what the three of you would get up to right here in the back of Steve’s car even though the three of you definitely couldn’t fit. You’d make it work, though.

You want so badly for them to act out the dream you had, talking them through the entire thing, telling them what they said so they could perfect it. And you just know that they’d obey, being the good boys that they are. You know it’s wrong to think about this when Steve is trying his hardest to please you, but you just can’t help it. You can’t stop yourself from wanting your fantasy now. You’re too far gone to be stopped.

The windows are progressively fogging up but you’re nowhere near done. There’s still so much you want to do, but the space is so limited. You’ll just have to make do with what you have. Your orgasm is approaching and Steve watches you completely undone. Your head falls back as you moan loudly, feeling it all the way down to your toes that curl in pleasure. He’s taking a mental picture so he has this to look back on. It’s something he wants to save in his wallet so he can look at it any time he wants. He’ll settle for this, though. There’s no way he can possibly forget it.

Once you come back down, Steve’s caught off guard when you grab hold of his shoulders and push him down onto the seat, the two of you still connected as you begin to ride him. He stares up, his mouth wide open in shock and you lean down for a kiss.

Your tongue explores his mouth as you continue your movements and he’s quick to buck his hips against yours, trying to get you to speed up. But you push him down, staring at him intently.

“Baby, slow down,” you tell him. “This isn’t a race.” Your pace slows and you watch him stare at your chest, the way your tits move this way and that. He feels hypnotized by them, the way they’re practically begging for his mouth.

He listens, his hips bucking more slowly against yours and you smile at how good of a boy he can be. Your pace picks up just a little and you feel his fingers digging into your waist as he moves your hips, showing you how he wants to be fucked. And you try to follow his instructions, but apparently not well enough because in an instant, you’re back on the seat, Steve pounding into you again and again. You work together to get him off and it works like a charm. He’s orgasming above you and you talk him through it, being nothing but encouraging as he does so.

Eddie’s late coming out of the school. He graduated so long ago and still finds himself making deals in the school bathroom. But he’s sixty dollars richer so it’s worth it in the end. It’s a win-win in his head because he gets to support his friend and make a little cash.

He heads out into the parking lot and notices that there’s a car still there. It’s not to miss since the only other vehicle is his van. The car is also shaking slightly so he knows exactly what’s happening. Crazy how the excitement of a win can make people horny.

He passes by the car and glances into the foggy window because to his core he’s a little bit of a perv. Even through the tiny amount he’s able to see through, he realizes that he recognizes the back that’s facing him. It’s Steve, he knows that much. He doesn’t even know how he knows, but he just does.

When did he memorize every inch of his friend’s back and why is he getting turned on by seeing him pound into someone? Eddie’s always known that he was bi, but he never thought he would be sexually attracted to one of his best male friends.

And once he gets a glimpse of your face, he’s not even mad. This is the definition of bi panic and he doesn’t think he’s ever experienced it so intensely before. He’s hard beyond belief and part of him almost wants to ask if he can join. That would be the dream, wouldn’t it? But he doesn’t. He can’t. This is between the two of you. So he heads to his van and gets into it, staring at Steve’s BMW as he pulls out of his space, trying to deal with the fact that he has been turned on by Steve. Being turned on by you? Yeah, that’s been happening to him for years. But with Steve, this is totally new, and he’s unsure how to deal with it.

He already knows that the two of you aren’t actually together-well, maybe you are now since he caught you in the back of Steve’s car-so he wonders if he should tell you that he doesn’t care that you lied to him and be honest about the fact that he now wants the both of you. That actually terrifies him, but he feels like you deserve to know the truth.

Eddie doesn’t sleep the entire night. He just lies in his bed, pouring sweat as he thinks about all the positions he could have the two of you in. He needs a threesome with you so bad, but he knows it’s all just a pipe dream. Clearly the two of you have made your relationship a real thing. So where does that leave him? Do you not want him anymore? Was that whole thing just for nothing and now he’s going to be alone for the rest of his life? With Eddie’s luck, that’s definitely a possibility.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader

117 notes · View notes

jungkoode · 4 months ago

Text

死 KKANGPAE | #03 死

† breakfast and training †

"His eyes are the kind of dark that makes you forget there was ever light in the world. And you hate that you're starting to notice details about him."

next | index

⚔ chapter details ⚔

word count: 5.4k

rating: mature

content: training violence, weapons, strong language, sexual tension

☠ author's note ☠

HELLO MY FELLOW SLEEP-DEPRIVED CREATURES. Welcome back to another episode of "Kiki makes questionable life choices and writes fanfiction instead of sleeping"!

Can we talk about how I wrote like three different versions of the gun scene before my perfectionist brain was satisfied? And by satisfied I mean "fine whatever just post it I guess." Don't @ me about gun accuracy, I play Call of Duty sometimes that's research enough (ㆆᴗㆆ)

Also yes, I am absolutely living for the whole "oh no they're training together" trope. Sue me. Or don't, I'm broke. All I have is caffeine and the ability to make my characters suffer. Speaking of which - Jeon in combat mode? chef's kiss My boy is out there being all professional and grumpy while Y/N is just trying her best not to get shot. We love that for them.

PSA: The whole "Cookie" thing was totally self-indulgent and I regret nothing. V is here to cause chaos and honestly? Goals.

Special shoutout to my cat who watched me write this at 3 AM and judged me silently. You're the best beta reader a girl could ask for, even if your only feedback is knocking my coffee over.

See you next Tuesday, you beautiful disasters! Remember: sleep is for the weak and fanfiction is for life.

crawls back into writing cave while mainlining espresso

Kiki

⚔ socials ⚔

read on ao3

read on wattpad

tumblr/twitter: @jungkoode

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

Mornings in the castle hit different. Through your window, the sky's doing that thing where it can't decide if it's still night or already dawn—all soft blues mixing with hints of gold. Everything's quiet, like the world's holding its breath.

Then your alarm goes off.

"Why did we agree to this again?" Yunjin whines from her bed, fumbling to shut up the annoying buzz. Her pink hair is a mess, splayed across her pillow like cotton candy gone wrong.

"Croissants," you remind her, stretching until your joints pop. "Fresh, buttery, heavenly croissants."

"Not hungry." She burrows deeper into her blanket cocoon. "Too early for hunger. Too early for existing."

You swing your legs off the bed, bare feet hitting the cold floor. "What happened to yesterday's 'new me, new goals' speech?"

"That was yesterday's Yunjin. Today's Yunjin chooses sleep."

With a snort, you pad over to her bed. It's literally two steps away—your shared room is cozy like that, with just enough space for two singles and matching bedside tables. You give her shoulder a gentle shake.

"And what's tomorrow's Yunjin gonna think about that?"

"Tomorrow's Yunjin's problem," she mumbles, death-gripping her blanket. Smart girl. She knows your next move would've been stealing it.

"Then it's tomorrow's me problem too!" You can't help but laugh, and it finally gets her to peek one eye open.

She lets out the longest, most dramatic sigh. "Fine. Fine. You win."

Your shared laughter is soft, comfortable. It's weird how quickly Yunjin became your person here. Maybe because she's as new to this as you are—no pressure to measure up to badasses like Chaewon or keep your guard up around intimidating figures like V and Jeon.

She joined two months before you did. For her, it meant saying goodbye to having her own room, but she says it was worth the trade-off. Girl's a mess when it comes to sleep schedules, but she keeps your shared space spotless and her determination is s̶c̶a̶r̶y̶ impressive. Like, you've seen her practice seduction techniques until 3 AM, and now here she is, dragging herself up at dawn for... well, croissants and self-improvement.

There's something genuinely good about Yunjin. She's always there—to help, to listen, to just be. Five months in and everyone in Seduction already adores her. Yeah, she's clumsy as hell during physical training, but her mind is sharp. Nothing gets past her—it's like she's got a built-in lie detector.

After yesterday morning's... incident, you're extra grateful for her company.

You both grab your digital cards from your bedside tables—can't go anywhere in this place without them. They're basically your whole identity here, determining which doors open for you and which stay firmly shut.

The castle corridors feel endless this early. Most members are probably still sleeping or doing whatever gang members do at dawn. Your footsteps echo softly as you and Yunjin make your way to the cafeteria, keeping the conversation light.

"Have you had breakfast here before?" you ask, watching her stifle another yawn.

"Once." She nods, her pink ponytail bouncing. "Got up at 10 though. Wasn't worth sacrificing sleep for."

You can't help but smile. "Early breakfast hits different. You'll see."

When you reach the cafeteria, Yunjin taps her digital card against the scanner. The light blinks green, and suddenly your nose is filled with the heavenly smell of fresh pastries. Inside, only a handful of early birds are scattered around the massive space. Makes sense—most people here prefer their beds at this hour.

Your eyes do their usual sweep of the room, casual and practiced. But then something pulls at you, like a magnet finding true north. Your gaze locks with dark, piercing ones.

Jeon.

"Oh, that's Jeon, right?" Yunjin's voice cuts through your thoughts. "Guess he likes mornings too."

You nod, still watching him from the safety of the doorway. Something about the distance makes you feel almost safe. He's got that thing about him—that unmistakable aura of authority that even 6 AM can't dim.

"Damn," Yunjin says after a beat, blunt as ever. "He's hot."

"Let's get food," you mutter, rolling your eyes and heading for the pastry section.

You and Yunjin load up your plates with a bit of everything, especially those famous croissants. Finding a quiet corner, you settle in to enjoy both the food and each other's company, pointedly not thinking about piercing dark eyes or brooding corners.

You try to look casual as your eyes drift back to Jeon for the hundredth time.

He's sitting there, both hands wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee like it's his lifeline to sanity this early in the morning. The sight of those tattooed fingers curled around plain white ceramic does something to your brain that you'd rather not examine too closely.

"You know, I heard something interesting about him." Yunjin's voice makes you jump. S̶h̶i̶t̶ Great, she caught you staring.

"Oh?" You tilt your head, hoping your voice sounds more curious than guilty.

Yunjin leans in conspiratorially, her pink hair falling forward as she drops her voice to barely above a whisper. It's kind of unnecessary given how far away Jeon is, but there's something about him that makes everyone speak in hushed tones.

"Apparently, he's got this whole... ritual thing going on. Every single morning, without fail, he makes sure he's the first one to get fresh coffee. Like, the first cup from a fresh pot."

Your eyes track back to that cup held between ink-covered fingers. Now that she mentions it, you've never seen him drink anything else in the mornings. The way he's savoring it, eyes closed and expression almost peaceful, makes you think Yunjin might be onto something.

"Every day? He's literally the first one here?" The mental image of Jeon lurking outside the cafeteria doors, waiting for them to unlock, is both hilarious and weirdly endearing.

"From what I've heard. Maybe it's a power move?" Yunjin suggests with a soft laugh. "You know, asserting dominance through caffeine consumption."

The idea of someone as intimidating as Jeon—co-leader of the Assassination Division, member of the Council of 9, literal professional killer—climbing the ranks of one of South Korea's most dangerous gangs just to secure his morning coffee makes something bubble up in your chest.. You have to bite your lip to keep from laughing too loud.

"Imagine that being his master plan all along," you snort. "Join gang, become assassination chief, get first dibs on coffee."

You both dissolve into quiet giggles, but the moment shatters when something shifts in the air. It's like thorny vines suddenly wrapping around your lungs, making it hard to breathe. You don't need to look to know who it is.

"Mind if I join the fun?" V's voice slides over your skin like honey laced with poison, playful but with that edge that makes your hair stand on end.

His arms drape over your shoulders without warning, caging you and Yunjin in what should be a friendly gesture but feels more like being trapped. Your muscles tense automatically. There's something about V that keeps you perpetually on edge—like admiring a rose only to remember it's got thorns that could draw blood.

Yunjin manages a wobbly smile, but you can tell she's as unsettled as you are by his sudden appearance. "We were just... talking about coffee."

"Coffee?" V drawls the word like it personally offends him. He pulls back, throwing his arms behind his head in that carelessly graceful way of his, but stays close enough that you can smell cinnamon. "Boring. Now, this new training program? That's something worth discussing."

His eyes glint with mischief, reminding you of a cat playing with its food. "I'm keen to see what you girls bring to the table. Should be... intriguing, don't you think?"

The way he says it makes your skin crawl. There's nothing overtly threatening about his words, but the undercurrent is clear—the Assassination Division isn't known for playing nice, and V seems to view the upcoming cross-training as his personal playground.

"I'm sure it will be enlightening," you say carefully.

V's energy is infectious, but not in a good way. More like a disease you're trying not to catch.

He chuckles, and those thorny vines around your lungs squeeze tighter. "Oh, I'm sure it will be. And don't worry, yours truly will be there to add a little spice to the mix. Can't let things get too dull, can we?"

Before you can respond, his attention snaps to something—or someone—across the cafeteria. With a dismissive wave that somehow manages to feel both elegant and insulting, he strides off as suddenly as he appeared.

You exchange looks with Yunjin, both of you sagging with relief once he's gone. She looks as drained as you feel, like V's presence alone sucked all the energy from the room.

"Well, that was... something," Yunjin says, and you could write a whole essay about everything packed into that single word. Her pink hair is still slightly disheveled from where V's dramatic entrance messed it up.

"That's one way to put it." You try to shake off the phantom feeling of thorny vines around your lungs. V's presence leaves you feeling like you've been through some kind of emotional washing machine—tumbled around and wrung out.

"But oh my god." Yunjin's whole face suddenly lights up like she's remembered something amazing. The whiplash from her mood shift almost gives you vertigo.

"What?" You ask, though part of you already knows where this is going. Yunjin might be shy and perceptive, but she's also a total simp when it comes to pretty faces.

"He is SO handsome?" Her voice rises with genuine awe. "Everyone kept saying he looks like a prince, but I thought they were exaggerating. They were not."

You raise an eyebrow, wondering if you were even in the same conversation just now. Sure, V's gorgeous—that's kind of his whole thing. The dangerous beauty, the dripping poison. But after feeling his aura wrap around you like a boa constrictor, 'handsome' isn't exactly the first word that comes to mind.

"Did you miss the whole creepy vibe?" You keep your voice low, even though V's long gone. Some habits die hard in this place. "He talked about the training program like he's planning to turn it into his personal episode of Squid Game. With popcorn."

"Yeah, but like..." Yunjin waves her hand dismissively, "have you seen his face? Those cheekbones? That jawline?"

"The way he's probably plotting our deaths as we speak?" You counter, but you can't help the smile tugging at your lips. Trust Yunjin to focus on the aesthetics while completely ignoring the red flags. It's kind of adorable, in a concerning way.

"Doesn't change the fact that he's eye candy," she says with zero shame, stabbing her fork into her breakfast. "Like, premium, expensive, imported chocolate level of eye candy."

"True," you admit, finally taking a proper bite of your croissant.

And it is true—V's got that whole ethereal beauty thing going on, like a masterpiece painting that happens to be slightly cursed. The kind of face that belongs in museums but also probably comes alive at night to terrorize security guards.

But even as you acknowledge V's obvious appeal, your eyes betray you, drifting back to that other corner of the cafeteria. Back to dark eyes and hurricanes.

Back to Jeon.

It's not like you mean to look.

It just... happens.

Like your gaze has some kind of magnetic programming that keeps pulling it in his direction.

Which is s̶t̶u̶p̶i̶d̶ inconvenient because the last thing you need is to get caught staring at one of the most dangerous men in Kkangpae while you've got croissant crumbs on your face.

The rest of your morning slips by without V popping up again to make your skin crawl. You try to focus on getting ready for what's coming, but your mind keeps drifting to the upcoming training.

Working with Jeon and V's division? Yeah, that's not anxiety-inducing at all.

When you step onto the training field outside the castle, the change of scenery hits different. After being cooped up in the gang's concrete maze, the open space and towering trees feel almost surreal. The cold morning air bites at your lungs—a wake-up call you didn't ask for but probably need.

Today's not just another training day. It's your first cross-training with the Assassination Division, and the tension in the air is so thick you could cut it with one of V's knives.

Your stomach does this weird flip-flop thing as you walk towards the gathering crowd. Working with Jeon after... that incident? Not exactly on your bucket list. The memory of your last encounter sits heavy in your chest, making each step feel like you're walking through mud.

The Assassination Division is already there when you arrive, looking like they stepped out of some action movie poster. Some look ready to murder, others look ready for a nap. But it's Jeon who catches your eye—impossible not to, really. It's like the air itself is swirling around him like a storm about to break.

He's got that look on his face—you know the one. All business, no bullshit, could probably kill you with his pinky finger.

No sign of V though.

Makes sense, when you think about it. Those two aren't exactly besties—more like two wolves forced to share the same territory. Their whole approach to killing is different as night and day.

Jeon's all about precision. Clean shots, minimal mess, maximum efficiency. He's the type to plan every detail, calculate every variable. Need someone taken out from two buildings away without anyone even knowing what happened? That's his specialty. The human equivalent of a surgical strike.

V though? He's chaos incarnate. Gets up close and personal with his kills, leaves a message written in blood if he feels like it. He's the guy you call when you want someone dead and don't care how messy it gets. Planning? Fuck planning—V works on pure instinct and improvisation.

The crowd goes quiet as Jeon steps forward. The atmosphere shifts, less like a raging storm now and more like the heavy air before thunder breaks. When he speaks, his voice does that thing where it demands attention without actually raising in volume. And despite everything—despite knowing better—you find yourself leaning in slightly to catch every word.

"Your state of mind is everything in this line of work," he says, dark eyes scanning the crowd like he's reading everyone's potential in real time. "A calm, collected mind can mean the difference between life and death."

The task he lays out seems simple enough: shoot the cardboard target, hit the center, don't mess it up. But as you watch others take their turns, that knot in your stomach keeps getting tighter.

The gun feels wrong in your hand. Not that you haven't held one before—basic training covers that—but this is different. This is him watching, and somehow that makes your palms extra sweaty.

Then your turn's up.

Walking to the mark feels like crossing a minefield, every step measured and tense. Your heart's going so hard you can barely hear anything else.

Focus. You need to focus.

But Jeon's standing right there, making the air thick and hard to breathe. Your finger hovers over the trigger, but doubt creeps in like poison.

The target blurs in and out. You can feel Jeon watching, that heavy gaze picking apart every flaw in your stance. The pressure builds in your chest until you're sure something's gonna snap.

Just a bit longer. You need to be absolutely sure before taking the shot.

It's not like Seduction gets much practice with actual weapons—your arsenal usually involves batting eyelashes and strategic flirting, not bullets and gunpowder. So it's no wonder the gun starts slipping through your sweaty fingers.

You tighten your grip. A surge of determination hits you like a shot of adrenaline. Come on. It's just cardboard. You've handled way worse situations than this. You can do this.

Your finger starts to squeeze the trigger—

BANG.

That... wasn't your gun.

You flinch, turning toward the sound before you can stop yourself. Through the corner of your eye, you catch smoke curling from Jeon's pistol.

He's standing there looking bored, arm extended like this is just another one of his daily mornings. The gun fits his hand like it was molded for him, an extension of his body rather than a weapon.

When your eyes snap to the target, there it is—perfect shot, dead center, because of course it is.

A̶s̶s̶h̶o̶l̶e̶ Show-off.

You lower your gun, lips pressed tight. His gaze sits heavy on your shoulders, hurricane pressure bearing down until you want to scream. His face gives nothing away, but those dark eyes say plenty—and none of it's good.

"If you're not quick enough, you'll get killed." His voice cuts like ice. "Let that be a reminder for everyone else."

The words hit like a slap. Heat rushes to your face—anger, embarrassment, frustration, all mixing together into something that makes you want to either punch something or crawl into a hole. Preferably punch him, but you're very aware of everyone watching this little show he's putting on.

Both divisions are staring, and you've never felt more like a fish in a very small, very exposed bowl.

Your eyes meet Jeon's, and suddenly breathing gets hard. His stare hits different—those dark eyes boring into yours like he's trying to read your soul, pupils blown wide in a way that makes your stomach do weird flips.

That silver lip ring catches the light when his mouth twists into something s̶e̶x̶y̶ condescending. He opens his mouth—probably to tear into you some more—but then—

BANG.

Everyone drops like puppets with cut strings. Pure instinct.

It's instant chaos. Voices rise into a crescendo of shouts and commands, bodies moving with practiced urgency.

It's kind of beautiful, in a messed-up way—how quickly personal beef gets shelved when shit hits the fan. One minute Jeon's looking at you like you're dirt on his boot, next second he's barking orders to keep everyone safe.

Your heart's in your throat as you scan the crowd for a flash of pink hair.

Yunjin.

But Yunjin's nowhere.

The sea of faces blurs together—no Kazuha, no Eunchae, not even Sakura. Even Chaewon's vanished, which is weird because she's usually got this sixth sense about danger.

Another shot cracks through the air. Your fingers tighten around your gun until your knuckles go white. Your eyes keep drifting to the treeline, where shadows dance between patches of dark green.

A calm, collected mind can mean the difference between life and death.

His words echo in your head, which is ironic considering how not calm you feel right now.

Fuck it.

You're moving before you can second-guess yourself, legs carrying you toward the forest. Maybe it's stupid, but you need space to think. To be calm, like he said.

Plus, the trees might give you cover—an advantage you desperately need right now.

The forest swallows you up. Sunlight filters through leaves overhead, painting everything in shifting patterns of light and shadow. Every step crunches on dead leaves, making you wince. So much for stealth.

V wouldn't be happy.

The chaos from the training ground fades the deeper you go, replaced by normal forest sounds—birds chattering overhead, small animals rustling in the bushes. It's almost peaceful, if you ignore the whole possible death situation.

You spot it then—a ridge overlooking the training ground, hidden behind thick bushes. Perfect vantage point, if you can reach it. The climb makes your muscles burn, but you manage. Up here, you force yourself to breathe slow and steady, trying to quiet your racing heart. Your fingers trace the gun's cold metal like a lifeline.

Your back hits the tree with a thud. The bark scrapes against your spine through your shirt, but you barely notice. Every nerve in your body is focused on that rustling sound behind you.

Footsteps.

Your breath catches. They're quiet—too quiet to be some random person stumbling through the woods.

No, these are the steps of someone who knows how to move silently. Someone trained.

Adrenaline floods your system as you press yourself flatter against the tree. Your fingers tighten around the gun until your knuckles go white. Through a gap in the leaves, you try to catch a glimpse of whoever's approaching, but the foliage is too thick.

Friend or foe?

The question pounds in your head with each careful footstep drawing closer. Your mind races, too many possibilities—it could be an enemy, could be another member searching the area.

Could be death or salvation walking your way.

The steps are almost upon you now. Your breathing goes shallow, controlled. You might be exposed up here, but they don't know that. Surprise is your only advantage right now.

Shoot or strike?

The dilemma tears at you. A gunshot would alert everyone to your location. And if it turns out to be an ally... F̶u̶c̶k̶ No. Hand-to-hand is safer. Quieter. Less explaining to do if you're wrong.

Your muscles coil tight as a spring. When the footsteps are close enough, you launch yourself from behind the tree in one fluid motion, aiming to take them down hard and fast.

Instead, you slam into what feels like a brick wall.

Oh.

It's Jeon.

His reflexes are insane—before you can even process who he is, he's already moving. The air sweeps around you as he twists, disarming you with embarrassing ease. Your gun hits the ground with a clatter that seems to echo through the whole forest.

Recognition hits you both at the same moment. That flicker of shock in his eyes quickly turns to his usual look of disdain, because of course it does.

Then—a misstep.

Your ankle rolls, sending white-hot pain shooting up your leg. You stumble, sucking in a sharp breath. His grip on you loosens just slightly, and something that might be concern flashes across his face before his usual cold mask slips back into place.

"You okay?" His voice is gruff, like the words are being dragged out of him against his will.

"Just perfect," you snap back, because fuck his concern when your ankle feels like it's on fire and your pride hurts even worse.

He just stands there, staring at you with those dark eyes that see too much.

"What the hell were you thinking?" A pause, one eyebrow lifting. "You have a gun, don't you?"

You almost laugh. Because of course. If you'd shot at him, he'd be lecturing you about trigger discipline. Attack hand-to-hand, and suddenly you're an idiot for not using your weapon.

You seriously can't win with this man.

"Well, good thing I didn't use it on you then." The words come out lighter than you feel, dancing between playful and pissed. "And what are you doing here anyway? Shouldn't you be back there playing commander?"

"That's what deputies are for." The casual way he says it makes your teeth grind. "Besides, I dispatched a team to check the gunfire. Just my luck, running into you instead."

"Pleasure's all mine, chief." You load the title with all the sarcasm you can muster.

"And you?" His dark eyes study you like you're a particularly puzzling target he can't quite line up. "Any reason you're out here instead of following orders?"

"Didn't get any orders to follow." You cross your arms, ignoring how his presence makes your skin prickle. "And that ridge over there?" You jab a finger toward the overlook. "Perfect vantage point. I was trying to be strategic before you showed up."

He actually grimaces at that, like your logic physically pains him. But before he can open his mouth to deliver what's surely another lecture, you add:

"Just my luck, running into you instead."

The words—his own words turned back on him—hit their mark. His eyebrow twitches just slightly, and satisfaction blooms warm in your chest.

Score one for you.

But before you can inwardly celebrate, he grimaces. He actually grimaces before he opens his stupid mouth again.

"That?" His voice drips with condescension. "You think that's prime real estate for observation?" The asshole holds back a laughter. "Alright." He says, and you ponder the merits of hitting him with a rock.

But then he begins walking, and you trail after him, partly because s̶c̶r̶e̶w̶ ̶h̶i̶m̶ he's wrong and partly because... well, where else are you gonna go?

"Remind me again—which one of us specializes in persuasion and observation?" You can't keep the annoyance from your voice. His arrogance is starting to give you a headache.

"And which one of us is known for sniping?" He tilts his head just enough for you to catch the silver flash of his eyebrow piercing. "You think I don't know a thing or two about picking vantage points?"

"Just because you can shoot from far away doesn't mean you know the best places to shoot from." The words come out sharper than intended. "What works for a sniper might not work for surveillance. They're different skill sets."

"How so?" He doesn't even bother looking back now. "A lookout's a lookout, smartass."

Your hands find your hips. "You know what? Ask me that again when you sit in on our cross-training. Might learn something useful."

"Learn from an ensign?" His tilt is mocking. "No—learn from you?" He lets out a low chuckle that makes your teeth grind. "Pretty sure it works the other way around."

"Forgot about Flower?" You can't help the snark in your voice. "She's a chief too, and I'm sure she'd love to put you in your place."

The exhale he lets out is so exaggerated it has to be for dramatic effect. "You're insufferable."

"Feeling's mutual, chief."

You trail behind Jeon through the darkness, trying to ignore how his mere presence makes the night air feel electric against your skin. The silence wraps around you both, broken only by your footsteps until—

A rustle in the underbrush.

Before you can react, his hand clamps around your wrist. No warning, no words—just the firm press of tattooed fingers against your pulse point as he yanks you behind a massive rock. You crash against him, bodies colliding in a mess of limbs and s̶h̶i̶t̶ startled breath.

You open your mouth to tell him exactly what you think about being manhandled, but his finger presses against his lips. Shut up. His eyes scan the darkness beyond your hiding spot, focused and lethal.

And suddenly you're way too aware of him.

The moonlight paints him in silver and shadow, highlighting things you've never noticed before. Like how his eyebrow piercing catches the light—two tiny beads of silver that draw attention to the way his brow furrows in concentration. Or how that lip ring glints when his mouth sets in that stern line you know too well.

There's a scar on his left cheek—barely there, really. Just a whisper of a mark that makes you wonder what story it tells. Your eyes drift lower, catching on the small mole decorating the left side of his neck. It's such a delicate detail on someone who radiates danger, like finding a flower growing through concrete.

But it's his eyes that f̶u̶c̶k̶ y̶o̶u̶ u̶p̶ catch you off guard. Dark and deep, framed by stupidly long lashes that flutter when he blinks. They're beautiful in a way that makes your chest tight—and isn't that just f̶u̶c̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ fantastic? You didn't need to know that about him.

This close, you can see the tiny lines at the corners of those eyes. They speak of sleepless nights and heavy choices, of burdens carried too long alone. Watching him like this—he feels different now, less like a storm trying to drown you and more like standing in summer rain.

The realization hits like a punch to the gut: you're seeing Jeon. Not the cold-as-ice division chief or the intimidating Council member. Just... him. Human.

Complex.

His fingers are still wrapped around your wrist like an iron band. If anything, his grip's gotten tighter, and you're caught between wanting to yank free and being weirdly aware of how warm his hand is against your skin in the cool night air. It's hard to tell if you're feeling trapped or protected.

The footsteps draw closer—deliberate, confident. Not someone trying to hide.

You watch a muscle tick in Jeon's jaw, the kind of tiny detail you wouldn't normally notice if you weren't pressed so close to him. It's fascinating, in an annoying way, how he can look so calm while radiating such intense energy.

His eyes flick to yours for just a second, but it feels loaded with... something. Like you're suddenly partners in this mess, whether you like it or not. It's more communication than you've had in all your previous conversations combined.

The rustling gets louder. You hold your breath. Jeon's gone statue-still beside you, but you can feel the coiled tension in him. His dark eyes snap to a spot in the trees, then back to you with unnerving intensity.

"Shoot there."

You stare at him like he's lost his mind. "What?"

"There." His voice is barely a whisper, rough with urgency. He jerks his chin toward whatever he's seeing that you're apparently missing.

"You want me to shoot a tree branch?" The skepticism in your whisper could cut glass. "Seriously?"

"Just do what you're told." The words rumble out of him like distant thunder, crackling with impatience.

You give Jeon a look, but arguing isn't an option right now.

The gun feels heavy as you line up the shot. Your finger finds the trigger, and for a split second, everything goes quiet. The bang echoes through the trees, making your ears ring. You watch as the bullet hits exactly where Jeon wanted—that innocent-looking branch that apparently wasn't so innocent after all.

A net explodes from the darkness like some kind of ninja trap, shooting toward the approaching figure. But whoever it is moves like water—fluid, impossible, beautiful in a terrifying way. The net hits empty ground with a sad little flutter while your brain tries to process what just happened.

Beside you, Jeon goes still. If you weren't pressed so close, you might have missed that tiny hitch in his breath—the only sign that this wasn't part of his plan. His eyes narrow just slightly, that crack in his perfect mask making your stomach do weird flips.

He pushes you back against the rock, putting himself between you and whatever's coming. The stone digs into your spine, cold and rough through your clothes.

Then everything happens at once.

A shadow vaults over your hiding spot, moving with deadly grace. Gunshots crack through the night, and suddenly Jeon's shoving you down, his body covering yours. The world spins into a blur of motion and sound, your pulse drumming so loud you can barely think.

When reality settles back into focus, you watch the figure reach for their mask. Your fingers tighten on your gun, waiting to see what kind of threat managed to dodge one of Jeon's traps.

The mask comes off.

Oh for fuck's sake.

V's grinning like the cat that got the cream. "Paintball night!" he announces with way too much glee for someone who just scared the shit out of you.

Relief and irritation war in your chest. Of course it's V. Who else would turn a simple training exercise into their personal dramatic performance?

You watch Jeon's shoulders drop, but the annoyance is written all over his face. His jaw's so tight you can practically hear all the curses he's not saying.

Always the professional, even when he's irritated.

V's eyes dances with delight as he watches Jeon simmer. "Don't look at me like that, Kookie," he coos, lips curling into that signature smirk that makes you want to take a step back.

Cookie?

You blink, trying to process that nickname. Looking at Jeon—all dark clothes, silver piercings, and intimidating tattoos—the last thing that comes to mind is anything remotely cute or sweet. The mental image of him buying cookies from some terrified boy scouts makes you bite back a laugh.

Now that's a story you'd pay to hear.

Jeon's eyebrow shoots up in that way that somehow manages to say f̶u̶c̶k̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ more effectively than actual words. His tongue pushes against the inside of his cheek, jaw working like he's physically holding back whatever he wants to say. He's irritated.

"I'll give you some advantage," V sighs dramatically, thorny vines wrapping around your lungs even from this distance. "No fun beating you when you're unarmed." The words drip with amusement, like this whole thing is his favorite game. "See ya."

With one last unsettling grin, he melts into the darkness. Because of course he does. Dramatic asshole.

You're still sprawled on the ground, processing what just happened. Leave it to V to turn a regular night into some twisted paintball training session. The man's idea of "improving stealth skills" is giving everyone heart attacks.

Beside you, Jeon's muscles finally uncoil from their battle-ready stance. He looms over you, and you can't tell if the expression on his face is more annoyed or relieved.

"You gonna get up or what?" The words come out gruff, but there's something else there. Something that might be concern if you squint.

Then his hand appears in front of your face. You stare at it for a second, surprised. It's weirdly bare compared to his tattooed arms, and you hesitate before taking it. His grip is firm but careful as he helps you up.

The whole night feels surreal —one weird training session bleeding into another. You glance at Jeon as he stretches, working out the tension in his shoulders.

The mystery of "Cookie" tugs at your curiosity, but one look at his face tells you now's not the time to ask.

Some mysteries are probably better left unsolved.

next | index

🔪 taglist 🔪

@cannotalwaysbenight @livingformintyoongi @itstoastsworld @redcherrykook @somehowukook

96 notes · View notes

jeongchoiii · 3 months ago

Text

Jealous

cw: nsfw, top!mingyu, bottom!wonwoo, jealous, blow job, face-fucking, fingering, anal sex, hand job, edging, possessive, man-handling, spanking, spit as lube.

summary: Why wouldn't wonwoo be jealous if he sees another beautiful man hitting on his crush? And worse, mingyu did nothing about it.

wc: 6.9k

Wonwoo didn’t have to do this.

There was no written rule that required a CEO to host appreciation dinners for their employees, no obligation that bound him to these occasional gatherings. And yet, he did it anyway, time and time again. It wasn’t just an empty gesture, not something he did out of mere politeness—it was something genuine. Something that, despite how composed and distant he tried to be as their boss, meant a lot to him.

The people working under him weren’t just employees. They were the ones who kept everything running, the ones who worked tirelessly to ensure that the company didn’t just survive but thrived. They were the backbone of everything, and Wonwoo knew that success wasn’t built alone. It was a collective effort, a constant push forward that involved every single person. And so, every once in a while, he made sure they knew how much he appreciated them.

That was why, on this particular Saturday night, he had decided to treat them all to a well-deserved dinner at one of the finest restaurants in the city. A celebration—not just for their hard work, but for them. A night where they could relax, drink, and laugh without the looming pressure of deadlines and meetings. He had even planned it strategically, knowing that tomorrow was Sunday, their official day off. They could drink as much as they wanted without worrying about dragging their exhausted, hungover selves into work the next morning.

The moment he made the announcement, a ripple of excitement spread through the office like wildfire. Employees lit up with joy, voices overlapping with eager expressions of gratitude. Thank yous were thrown in his direction from every corner of the room, warm smiles and appreciative glances meeting him wherever he turned.

Wonwoo accepted them all with a small nod, lips curving into a faint smile, but his attention wasn’t fully on them. Not when a certain someone was looking at him from across the room.

Mingyu.

Unlike the others, he didn’t cheer. He didn’t grin or thank him. He just watched—arms folded, head tilted slightly to the side, his lips curled into a smirk that was as infuriating as it was intriguing.

There it was again. That unspoken something between them.

The same tension that had been lingering in the air for weeks now. A heat that neither of them addressed, but both of them felt.

And it all started the night Wonwoo made a mistake.

The night he walked into the office bathroom and saw Mingyu with his pants pushed down, one hand braced against the sink while the other worked himself at a slow, deliberate pace.

The memory was still seared into Wonwoo’s mind.

Mingyu hadn’t panicked. He hadn’t stumbled over himself in a desperate attempt to hide what he was doing. He had simply turned his head, locked eyes with Wonwoo, and kept going.

And then—Wonwoo would never forget this—his movements had sped up.

He had gotten off on being watched.

On being caught.

Wonwoo had frozen.

His body refused to move, his breath caught somewhere in his throat. The logical part of his brain screamed at him to look away, to leave, to say something.

But he didn’t.

Not until the heat in his cheeks became unbearable, not until his own thoughts turned dangerous.

Only then had he forced himself to turn and walk away without a single word.

He should have reprimanded Mingyu for such unacceptable behavior in a professional environment. He should have called him into his office and made it clear that something like that could never happen again.

But he hadn’t.

And ever since then, Mingyu had been toying with him.

There was no other way to describe it. The way he smirked whenever they were alone in a room together. The way he brushed past him in the hallway when there was plenty of space to walk without touching. The way he stared at him sometimes, like he was waiting for Wonwoo to break.

It was getting to him.

It was really getting to him.

Because now, Wonwoo found himself watching Mingyu.

From his office, through the transparent glass walls, he had caught himself staring on multiple occasions—watching the way Mingyu rolled up his sleeves when he carried something heavy, the way the veins in his forearms became more prominent, the way his muscles flexed under his fitted dress shirts.

It was pathetic.

Embarrassing, even.

But no matter how many times Wonwoo told himself to stop, his eyes would wander whenever Mingyu was around.

And tonight was no different.

Everyone was heading to the restaurant, making their way to their cars or arranging rides with coworkers. Wonwoo had his own car, and most employees had already left, but just as he was about to do the same, something made him stop.

Or rather, someone.

Mingyu, straddling his sleek black motorcycle, slipping a helmet over his head.

That alone would’ve been enough to make Wonwoo pause.

But what really made his stomach churn was the sight of Jeonghan—one of the newer employees—climbing onto the bike behind him.

His hands resting on Mingyu’s shoulders.

His body pressed up against him.

Wonwoo’s grip on his car keys tightened.

He shouldn’t care.

He didn’t care.

But his blood was boiling.

It wasn’t as if Jeonghan didn’t have other options. If he needed a ride, Wonwoo had a car. He could have easily offered to drive him, but apparently, Jeonghan had chosen Mingyu instead.

And Mingyu—of course—hadn’t said no.

Wonwoo’s jaw clenched, his gaze locked onto them.

Jeonghan said something, leaning in closer to be heard over the low rumble of the engine. Wonwoo wasn’t close enough to hear the words, but he could see the way Jeonghan smiled at Mingyu, the easy familiarity in the way he touched him.

Mingyu didn’t react much. He just tilted his head slightly in response, listening.

And then—just as Wonwoo was about to turn away—Mingyu’s head shifted just enough that for a split second, it seemed like he was looking directly at Wonwoo.

His helmet was dark, concealing his face. It was impossible to tell for sure if their eyes had met.

Was he looking at him?

Or was he just adjusting to hear Jeonghan better?

Wonwoo wanted to believe the first option.

He needed to believe it.

But it didn’t matter. Because at the end of the day, Jeonghan was the one riding away with Mingyu, clinging to him as the bike roared to life and disappeared down the street.

And Wonwoo, left standing in the parking lot, couldn’t shake the unsettling weight in his chest.

He hated this.

Hated how possessive he felt over something that didn’t even belong to him.

The restaurant was lively, filled with the buzz of conversation and the clinking of glasses as everyone settled in. The ambiance was warm, dim lighting casting a golden hue over the elegant setting. This place was familiar—it was the restaurant they always chose for these gatherings, a spot that held memories of past celebrations and late-night laughter.

Wonwoo had chosen his seat carefully, slipping into the farthest corner of the large table, hoping for a moment of peace amidst the lively chatter. Unfortunately, fate—or perhaps just pure bad luck—had placed Mingyu directly across from him. And to make things even more unbearable, Jeonghan was seated right beside him.

The evening began smoothly, laughter spilling across the table as drinks were poured, and plates were filled. A chorus of "thank yous" rang in the air as everyone expressed their gratitude for Wonwoo’s generosity. He only smiled, dismissing their worries about the bill. “Order as much as you want,” he said, voice warm but firm. “It’s on me.”

That was met with enthusiastic responses, and soon, everyone was indulging in their meals, drinking freely now that there was no work to worry about the next day.

Wonwoo, however, found himself struggling to focus on his food.

Because every time he looked up, Mingyu was there.

He was across the table, effortlessly attractive as always, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, one arm resting on the table as he spoke to Jeonghan. But it wasn’t just that— it was the way Mingyu’s fingers toyed with the rim of his glass, the way his lips curled in amusement at whatever Jeonghan was saying, the way he occasionally stole glances in his direction.

And it was messing with Wonwoo’s head.

“Wonwoo!”

A sudden weight pressed against him, snapping him out of his daze. He barely had time to react before he realized that Seungcheol—one of his closest employees, and someone he actually considered a friend—had thrown an arm around him, pulling him into a half-hug.

Wonwoo blinked in surprise before chuckling softly, hugging him back. Seungcheol was one of the few people he allowed in his personal space. They had known each other for years, and their bond was one of familiarity and trust. It wasn’t unusual for Seungcheol to be affectionate like this, and Wonwoo had long stopped minding.

But as Seungcheol pulled away, Wonwoo’s eyes flickered back across the table—only to catch Mingyu, frozen mid-bite, eyes locked onto them.

He wasn’t eating.

His fork was in his hand, food forgotten, gaze dark and unreadable.

For a moment, Wonwoo felt a spark of satisfaction at the idea that Mingyu might not like seeing him this close to someone else. Was he jealous?

But just as quickly as the thought formed, he shoved it away, telling himself he was being ridiculous. He didn’t know what Mingyu was thinking. Maybe he was just zoning out. Maybe he wasn’t even looking at him, but rather at something behind him.

So Wonwoo did the only logical thing—he ignored him.

“Are you alright?” Seungcheol’s voice was closer this time, his brows furrowed as he studied him.

Wonwoo turned back to him, the noise of the restaurant suddenly feeling muffled compared to the warmth of Seungcheol’s presence beside him.

Of course, he had noticed. Seungcheol always noticed.

“I’m fine,” Wonwoo assured him, but his gaze betrayed him when it flickered back toward Mingyu and Jeonghan. They were talking, but Mingyu’s attention wasn’t fully on their conversation.

He was glancing over again.

Wonwoo knew it.

And Seungcheol knew it too.

A smirk curled onto Seungcheol’s lips before he leaned in, voice low as he whispered in Wonwoo’s ear, “Seems like someone’s jealous.”

Wonwoo flinched at the teasing tone, instinctively leaning back. “What?”

Seungcheol only grinned, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Come on, don’t play dumb.”

Wonwoo opened his mouth to protest, but the words never came. Because…

He was jealous.

Painfully, stupidly, undeniably jealous.

So instead of denying it, he sighed, dropping his head slightly before muttering, “I am.”

Seungcheol looked momentarily surprised by the honesty, but his expression softened just as quickly.

“Thought so,” he murmured, leaning back in his seat, gaze flicking toward Jeonghan.

Ah.

Wonwoo wasn’t the only one jealous tonight.

He had almost forgotten—Seungcheol had a thing for Jeonghan.

And Jeonghan, currently seated beside Mingyu, talking and laughing with him, wasn’t paying Seungcheol a single ounce of attention.

For a brief moment, their eyes met, two men sitting side by side, both suffering in silence over the people they wanted but couldn’t have.

Seungcheol chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. “We’re pathetic.”

Wonwoo sighed. “We really are.”

Seungcheol's lips curled into a smirk as he leaned in, his breath warm against Wonwoo’s ear. “But we could try something to pull their attention to us. At least we have their attention.” His voice was low, dripping with mischief, and Wonwoo couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at his own lips in response.

“Let’s give it a try,” Wonwoo murmured, shifting closer, allowing Seungcheol’s arm to settle around his shoulders as if they belonged there. He didn’t mind the way their bodies pressed together—it was comfortable, easy. But more than that, he knew exactly what effect it would have on a certain someone sitting across the table.

The dinner had started off harmless enough, laughter echoing around their usual restaurant as drinks were poured and plates were filled. A few employees had already succumbed to the alcohol, slumped against the table in varying stages of intoxication, while others drank more leisurely, savoring the rare night of indulgence their boss had offered them. Wonwoo watched with a pleased smile, encouraging them to order more if they wanted, to enjoy themselves without restraint.

But his attention wasn’t really on them.

It was on Mingyu.

Mingyu, who hadn’t touched a single drop of alcohol the entire night, while Jeonghan—who had started drinking the moment they sat down—was growing looser, bolder, draping himself over Mingyu as if it were second nature. Wonwoo caught the way Jeonghan leaned in close, whispering something into Mingyu’s ear, the way his fingers trailed over his arm in a manner too familiar for comfort. But what irked him more was Mingyu’s reaction—or lack thereof. He wasn’t shoving Jeonghan off, wasn’t resisting in the way Wonwoo wanted him to.

A scoff left Wonwoo before he could stop it. Not that Mingyu was any better—because whenever Seungcheol leaned in, letting his breath tickle the shell of Wonwoo’s ear, Mingyu’s gaze sharpened. Whenever Wonwoo threw his head back in laughter at something Seungcheol said, Mingyu’s fingers twitched against his glass. The tension was thick, heavy, almost suffocating, but neither of them acknowledged it directly.

Until Wonwoo decided to push it further.

He didn’t think much about it when he did it, but the moment he grabbed Seungcheol’s collar and yanked him closer, his lips ghosting over the man’s skin as he murmured something low, he knew exactly what kind of fire he was playing with. Seungcheol barely hesitated before tilting his head, taking the invitation, and dragging his lips down the curve of Wonwoo’s neck, slow and deliberate. His tongue flicked over the sensitive skin, his teeth grazing teasingly before he sucked lightly, just enough to leave a faint mark behind. Wonwoo shivered, his grip loosening against Seungcheol’s jacket as a quiet sound escaped his lips.

Mingyu stopped breathing.

He wasn’t the only one. Jeonghan had gone completely still beside him, his fingers tightening around his beer glass, knuckles turning white. But Wonwoo wasn’t looking at Jeonghan. He was looking at Mingyu.

Mingyu, whose jaw was locked so tight it looked painful. Mingyu, whose dark eyes had locked onto the way Seungcheol’s lips moved against Wonwoo’s neck with something so feral it sent a thrill down Wonwoo’s spine.

Oh, this was fun.

Seungcheol smirked against his skin, clearly pleased with the way Wonwoo was reacting, with the way Mingyu was reacting. His hands tightened on Wonwoo’s waist, dragging him just a fraction closer, and Wonwoo let him. It was intoxicating, knowing they had all of Mingyu’s attention now, that every little touch, every teasing graze of lips against skin, was setting him on fire.

It wasn’t just Mingyu either. Jeonghan’s glare could have burned holes through Seungcheol’s skull, his expression darkening by the second. His lips parted slightly, like he wanted to say something, to call out the act for what it was, but before he could, his body moved on its own.

One moment, Seungcheol was pressing against Wonwoo, and the next, he was being yanked back, pulled away so abruptly that Wonwoo almost whined at the loss of contact.

And then Jeonghan’s lips crashed against Seungcheol’s.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t careful. It was raw, desperate, fueled by something deeper than just alcohol. Jeonghan’s fingers tangled in Seungcheol’s hair, pulling him closer, deeper, as if he wanted to devour him whole. Seungcheol let out a muffled sound of surprise before responding just as fiercely, his hands gripping Jeonghan’s waist as the kiss turned into something almost dangerous.

Wonwoo didn’t even blink.

Instead, he turned, eyes immediately finding Mingyu’s across the table.

And oh, if looks could kill.

Mingyu wasn’t just watching anymore. He was burning.

Wonwoo barely had time to process what was happening before Mingyu was already on his feet, rounding the table with a kind of determination that made something coil tight in his stomach. He should have been paying attention to how Seungcheol was now dragging Jeonghan out of the restaurant, their heated makeout barely paused as they stumbled towards the exit. But no, his focus was entirely on the man storming toward him, eyes locked on him like a predator that had finally found its prey.

The moment Mingyu’s fingers wrapped around his wrist, Wonwoo felt the heat of his touch like a brand against his skin. It wasn’t just physical warmth—it was something deeper, something that sent a sharp thrill down his spine. The grip was firm, almost possessive, and before he could make a comment, he was being dragged through the restaurant without another word.

Mingyu was practically seething, his entire body radiating something dark and untamed, and Wonwoo let himself be pulled along, entirely willing. He could already guess where this was heading, and if the way his pulse picked up was any indication, he wasn’t opposed to it.

“Where are you taking me?” Wonwoo asked, though the smirk playing on his lips made it clear he already knew the answer.

“Shut up,” Mingyu growled, his voice rough, almost trembling with restraint. Wonwoo could feel the tension rolling off him, the kind of energy that spoke of a man barely holding himself together.

A moment later, they reached the restroom, and before Wonwoo could utter another teasing remark, he was shoved inside, the door slamming shut behind them as Mingyu twisted the lock with a sharp click.

Wonwoo leaned against the sink, mirroring the same stance Mingyu had taken days ago, back when their roles were reversed. He arched an eyebrow, unfazed, completely reveling in the way Mingyu looked right now—dark, dangerous, and undeniably breathtaking. His chest rose and fell with deep breaths, his pupils blown wide with something raw.

“That’s not how you speak to your boss, now, do you, Mr. Kim?” Wonwoo murmured, voice laced with amusement, though he could feel his own heartbeat hammering against his ribs.

Mingyu’s gaze burned into him, his eyes a deep, simmering red, like he was barely holding himself back from tearing Wonwoo apart. He took a step forward, erasing the distance between them until their bodies were nearly flush together, the heat radiating off him making Wonwoo’s breath hitch slightly.

“What part of what I said you didn't understand, Wonwoo?” Mingyu’s voice was low, dripping with something dangerous, and Wonwoo felt his fingers tighten against the edge of the sink behind him.

“You don’t get to command me, Mr. Kim,” he whispered back, still maintaining the smirk, though he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold it. Mingyu was breathtaking like this—intense, unfiltered, the sheer weight of his presence making the air between them thick enough to drown in.

And then, before Wonwoo could think of another sharp remark, Mingyu crushed their lips together.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t careful. It was pure, unrelenting hunger.

Wonwoo barely had time to react before he felt Mingyu’s hands on him, sliding over his waist, his torso, burning through the fabric of his shirt as if he wanted to map out every inch of him with his touch. Mingyu kissed him like he had been waiting too long for this moment, like the frustration, the jealousy, the tension had all finally snapped, leaving only desire behind.

Wonwoo groaned into the kiss, his fingers flying to Mingyu’s hair, tugging him closer, as if they weren’t already pressed together as tightly as possible. He could feel Mingyu’s heartbeat against his own, fast and erratic, matching the way their mouths moved—desperate, urgent, devouring.

Mingyu wasn’t just kissing him. He was claiming him. And Wonwoo was letting him.

Mingyu pulled away abruptly, leaving Wonwoo breathless, his lips parted as if chasing the contact he had just lost. It took everything in him not to yank Mingyu back down and crash their mouths together again. The sudden space between them felt unbearable, like something had been ripped away too soon.

Mingyu, standing taller, looked down at him with dark, hooded eyes, his gaze sharp and burning. The muscles in his jaw twitched, his teeth grinding as he tilted Wonwoo’s face up with a firm grip, forcing him to meet his eyes. But Mingyu wasn’t just looking at him—he was staring at his neck, at the faint but undeniable mark left behind by Seungcheol.

Wonwoo saw it happen—the slow, dangerous tightening of Mingyu’s fingers, the way his expression darkened, the way his chest heaved just a little harder. His possessiveness, his jealousy—it was so palpable it made Wonwoo’s stomach flip in excitement. He had wanted this. Had wanted to see Mingyu unravel, wanted to push him over the edge just to feel what came next.

A slow, teasing smirk curled at the corners of Wonwoo’s lips, his voice dripping with provocation. "Didn’t take you for the jealous type, Mingyu." His words were light, taunting, but his pulse betrayed him, hammering against his skin.

Mingyu didn’t reply. He didn’t need to. Instead, he moved with an unforgiving roughness, spinning Wonwoo around in a fluid motion until he was facing the mirror above the sink. Wonwoo barely had a second to adjust before he felt fingers threading through his hair—Mingyu’s hand tightening at the base of his skull before yanking his head back. A groan tore from Wonwoo’s lips as his back arched, his body forced against Mingyu’s firm chest.

And then he felt it—Mingyu pressed against him, hot and unrelenting.

The sound Mingyu made was guttural, almost a growl, his grip tightening as Wonwoo’s body shifted against his. "You really let him put his hands on you," Mingyu muttered, his voice low, rough, lips brushing the shell of Wonwoo’s ear with every word. "Let him mark you while I was sitting right there, watching, thinking about how I should’ve dragged you out instead—laid you out in front of everyone so they knew exactly who you belonged to."

Wonwoo exhaled shakily, fingers gripping the edge of the sink, his own reflection staring back at him. His pupils were blown wide, his lips kiss-bruised, his breath coming in shallow pants—and then there was Mingyu, pressed against him, looking just as wrecked, just as desperate, his own restraint hanging by a thread.

And there, clear as day on his neck, was Seungcheol’s mark. A vivid red reminder of what had happened tonight.

Wonwoo should’ve been annoyed—but he wasn’t. Not when it had worked Mingyu up like this, not when it had led to this moment, to Mingyu manhandling him like he was something to be owned.

Mingyu met his gaze in the mirror, his grip still firm in his hair, his body still flush against his. "Look at you," he muttered, voice thick with something dangerous, something possessive. "Standing here like this, acting all smug when you look like the perfect little slut begging to be ruined."

And the worst part?

He wasn’t wrong.

"What are you gonna do, Gyu? Punish me?" Wonwoo’s voice was smooth, taunting, the nickname rolling off his tongue like a deliberate dare. He could see the way Mingyu’s expression darkened, the way his fingers twitched at his sides like he was restraining himself from doing exactly that. It only made Wonwoo’s smirk widen.

"You think that’s what you want, don’t you?" Mingyu murmured, voice rough, dangerously quiet. He leaned in, pressing a slow, mocking kiss to Wonwoo’s temple, a touch that could’ve been mistaken for tenderness—if not for the sharp tension crackling between them. It lingered for only a second before he pulled away, eyes glinting with something wicked.

"Maybe," Wonwoo mused, tilting his head, smirking up at him. "Or maybe not."

Mingyu let out a slow breath, studying him like a predator deciding how to strike. Then, without a word, he grabbed Wonwoo’s waistband and yanked his pants down in one swift motion, leaving him completely exposed. The cool air against his skin sent a sharp thrill through him, but it was nothing compared to the way Mingyu looked at him—eyes heavy-lidded, consuming.

"Who would’ve thought," Mingyu mused, fingers trailing over his hip with agonizing slowness, "that the cold, composed boss had such a slutty side?" His voice dropped, thick with amusement and something darker. "Bet no one would believe me if I told them how much you like being handled like this."

Wonwoo barely had time to react before Mingyu’s palm cracked against his bare skin, the sharp slap echoing in the quiet space. Wonwoo let out a sharp breath, his body instinctively arching into the touch, pleasure and pain colliding in a way that made his fingers curl tighter around the sink’s edge.

Mingyu wasted no time. With deliberate force, he grabbed Wonwoo’s thighs and lifted him onto the counter, making him sit right on the cool surface—facing him this time. Their eyes locked, and the shift in position sent heat straight to Wonwoo’s core. Mingyu slotted himself between his legs, hands gripping his waist, keeping him trapped against him.

"You look fucking ruined already," Wonwoo murmured, breath hitching, his fingers moving up to fist the front of Mingyu’s shirt.

Mingyu scoffed, his smirk curling against his lips as he trailed his fingers up Wonwoo’s inner thigh, just barely grazing where he wanted him. "Didn’t I look like this when I was jerking off?"

The memory crashed over Wonwoo like a tidal wave—the way Mingyu had looked that night, bathed in dim light, completely lost in pleasure. His body had been perfect, golden skin glowing, head tipped back, lips parted in bliss. Wonwoo swallowed hard, heat creeping up his neck.

"Yeah," Wonwoo admitted, voice quieter, needier than he intended. "You did."

Mingyu leaned in, lips brushing against Wonwoo’s ear, his voice a slow, deliberate whisper. "I still remember how you looked too," he murmured, his breath hot against his skin. "Like you were about to drop to your knees and beg for it." His hand moved lower, teasing, fingers dancing along sensitive skin but never fully touching.

Mingyu worked him over with slow, deliberate strokes, his fingers tight around Wonwoo’s length, his touch both rough and teasing. Each pump sent sparks of pleasure shooting through him, making him arch against the cool surface of the sink, his breath coming in shaky gasps. His thighs trembled where they bracketed Mingyu’s waist, his body instinctively chasing the friction even as he tried to resist the urge to beg for more.

Mingyu’s smirk never wavered, his sharp eyes dark with something dangerously pleased as he watched Wonwoo unravel beneath his hands. Without warning, he reached up, gripping Wonwoo’s jaw firmly, tilting his face up until their eyes locked. The intensity in Mingyu’s gaze sent a shiver down his spine.

"The second you look away," Mingyu murmured, voice deep and steady, "or if you close your eyes for even a second, you won’t get to cum until I decide you deserve it." His thumb brushed over Wonwoo’s parted lips, almost soothing, but his smirk told another story. "And I don’t think I’ll be feeling generous anytime soon."

Wonwoo’s breath hitched, frustration and need coiling tighter in his gut. His fingers curled into a fist before he struck Mingyu’s chest in protest—not that it did anything. Mingyu barely flinched, his smirk widening as if he found it amusing.

Then, without warning, Mingyu’s pace increased, and Wonwoo instantly lost the battle to stay composed. A ragged moan tore from his throat, his hips jerking forward instinctively as Mingyu’s grip tightened, dragging him deeper into pleasure. He was a mess—moaning, whining, his fingers gripping at Mingyu’s hair in a desperate attempt to ground himself. But it was useless.

His body trembled, thighs clenching around Mingyu’s sides, and yet—he forced his eyes to stay open. It took everything in him not to shut them, to just give in to the overwhelming sensation, but he knew better. Mingyu meant every word he said, and with the way jealousy still burned hot behind his teasing smirk, Wonwoo knew Mingyu would follow through on his threat.

"Mingyu… I’m gonna—" Wonwoo’s voice broke on a moan, his body tensing as pleasure built to a peak so intense it left him shaking. His head tipped back, and in that moment, his eyes fluttered shut—just for a second, just enough to get lost in the sensation.

And then—everything stopped.

Mingyu’s hand disappeared from his length as if he had never been touching him at all, the heat and friction ripped away so suddenly that Wonwoo let out a desperate whine, his chest heaving, body twitching from the loss. His eyes snapped open, dazed and pleading, only to be met with Mingyu’s smug expression, his brow raised in mock innocence, lips curling at the corners.

"Told you," Mingyu drawled, the teasing lilt in his voice sending a fresh wave of frustration through Wonwoo’s already aching body.

Wonwoo groaned, hands fisting against the edge of the sink. "No, no, I’m sorry—I’ll be good. Just—just let me cum, I swear—" His voice cracked with need, desperation clear in the way he trembled, in the way his thighs clenched around Mingyu’s sides.

But Mingyu only laughed, shaking his head as he leaned in, dragging his lips lazily along Wonwoo’s jaw, just enough to taunt him. "Nah," he murmured, his breath warm against Wonwoo’s flushed skin. "I gave you a chance. I was already being generous." His fingers traced along the inside of Wonwoo’s thigh, featherlight, doing absolutely nothing to help the ache between his legs. "And you lost it."

Wonwoo cursed under his breath, eyes flashing up to meet Mingyu’s, but the moment he opened his mouth to argue, Mingyu’s grip tightened around his waist, and in one swift motion, he was yanked off the sink and shoved to his knees.

The cold floor sent a sharp contrast to the heat pooling in his stomach, but he barely noticed—too busy staring up at Mingyu, lips slightly parted, eyes still dazed with need.

Mingyu looked down at him, chest rising and falling a little too fast, his own restraint clearly wearing thin. "You want to act cute now?" he scoffed, watching the way Wonwoo pouted, his lips plush and far too inviting.

"I just…" Wonwoo swallowed, fingers lightly trailing up Mingyu’s thighs. His voice was softer now, almost sweet in contrast to the way his body burned with frustration. "I just wanted to make you jealous."

Mingyu’s jaw clenched, his grip tightening in Wonwoo’s hair, but his voice remained steady—dangerous. "Stop trying to butter me up." He exhaled sharply, his patience running out. "And unbuckle my damn pants."

Wonwoo shivered at the sheer command in his voice, fingers already moving before he could think twice.

Wonwoo’s hands trembled as he pulled down Mingyu’s pants, his breath uneven, lips parted in anticipation. He was desperate, the ache between his legs unbearable, his body strung so tight it bordered on painful. He tried to move, to grind his thighs together for even the slightest bit of friction, but it wasn’t enough—not even close. He needed more.

Mingyu’s fingers tangled in his hair, yanking his head back just enough to force him to meet his gaze. The sight alone was enough to make Mingyu’s breath hitch—Wonwoo, on his knees, pupils blown wide with need, his tie hanging loose around his neck, shirt half-unbuttoned, exposing the flushed skin beneath. He looked ruined. And all because he wanted to cum.

How cute.

Mingyu smirked, brushing his thumb along Wonwoo’s jaw, almost tender before gripping it just tight enough to make his point. "Alright," he murmured, voice smooth but laced with something dark. "Since you’re being so good, I’ll be generous—just this once." His gaze flickered down, taking in every inch of Wonwoo’s wrecked state. "Why don’t you fuck yourself while you suck me off?"

A shudder ran through Wonwoo’s spine, his body reacting instantly to the command. His pride had long since vanished—there was no shame, no hesitation. He wanted this. He needed it. And if being like this, completely at Mingyu’s mercy, meant he could finally have his release, then so be it.

He nodded eagerly, hands already moving.

"Then get your fingers wet," Mingyu ordered, his own grip tightening around himself, lazily stroking as he watched the way Wonwoo immediately obeyed.

Without breaking eye contact, Wonwoo slipped two fingers past his lips, hollowing his cheeks as he sucked them in deep, his tongue swirling around the digits in slow, deliberate movements. He moaned around them, the vibrations sending a shiver through Mingyu’s body.

"Fuck," Mingyu groaned, his jaw clenching as he watched the way Wonwoo bobbed his head slightly, mimicking exactly what he’d do in just a moment. The sight alone was enough to make Mingyu's restraint snap, his free hand tightening in Wonwoo’s hair, guiding his movements as his own breathing grew heavier.

He was going to ruin him. And Wonwoo was more than ready to be ruined.

Wonwoo’s breath came in ragged gasps as he slid a hand behind himself, fingers teasing around his rim, shuddering at the contrast of sensations—his own tentative touch against the burning weight of Mingyu’s gaze. That gaze was consuming, dark, looking at him as if he were nothing more than a toy to be used and discarded once satisfaction was reached. And the worst part? Wonwoo found himself craving it.

The thought of being bound, completely at Mingyu’s mercy, or worse—being taken apart in front of everyone, even Seungcheol, so he could watch exactly what he had provoked—sent a sharp jolt of arousal straight through him.

"You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?" Mingyu’s voice was low, smooth, but edged with something dangerous. "All the filthy shit that’s got you this worked up."

Wonwoo barely had time to react before he felt the first push of his own fingers breaching him, his body twitching at the intrusion. His other hand slid up, wrapping around the base of Mingyu’s length, and without hesitation, he leaned forward, letting his tongue flick teasingly over the sensitive tip.

The effect was immediate. Mingyu exhaled sharply, his muscles tensing, fingers curling tighter in Wonwoo’s hair. His expression was one of pure hunger—dark eyes fixed on Wonwoo like he was a meal about to be devoured.

"Stop teasing." Mingyu’s voice had dropped even lower, rough with impatience. "Take it all."

Before Wonwoo could react, Mingyu’s grip tightened, pushing him down in one swift motion, forcing him to take his length fully into his mouth. A strangled gag left Wonwoo as his throat constricted around the sudden intrusion, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. At the same time, his fingers pushed deeper inside himself, the burn of the stretch mixing with the overwhelming sensation of Mingyu filling his mouth.

Wonwoo’s eyes fluttered shut, his body jerking as pleasure and pain collided, his own touch pressing against just the right spot. His throat vibrated with a moan, sending a deep, almost desperate groan tumbling from Mingyu’s lips.

"Fuck," Mingyu cursed, his grip tightening as his hips flexed forward just slightly, the warmth of Wonwoo’s mouth almost unbearable.

Wonwoo could feel himself unraveling already. And by the way Mingyu looked down at him, half-lidded eyes filled with raw desire, he knew neither of them would last long.

Mingyu’s rhythm grew erratic, his thrusts rough and relentless as he chased his climax, the grip in Wonwoo’s hair tightening with every sharp intake of breath. Wonwoo, barely keeping himself grounded, curled his fingers just right, hitting that spot inside himself over and over, sending shudders through his body. The pleasure was overwhelming, his thighs trembling as he teetered on the edge.

Mingyu was a mess above him, his skin glistening with sweat, chest rising and falling in heavy pants. Wonwoo’s teary eyes flicked up, watching the way Mingyu’s lips parted, his tongue slipping out slightly as if he were lost in concentration—desperate to tip himself over.

“Fuck—” Mingyu’s voice was deep, breathless. “You have no idea how fucking good you look right now, touching yourself like that… taking me so well.”

That was all it took. Wonwoo let out a muffled moan around Mingyu’s length, his body jerking violently as pleasure ripped through him. His own release spilled over his fingers, hot and messy, just as Mingyu groaned loudly, his body tensing before he came, spilling down Wonwoo’s throat in thick, warm pulses.

Wonwoo swallowed around him, the feeling making Mingyu shudder as he rode out the last waves of his high. Slowly, Mingyu pulled back, his length slipping from Wonwoo’s swollen lips, leaving behind a sinful mess. Wonwoo, still panting, let his tongue stick out slightly, showing he had taken everything.

Mingyu let out a low chuckle, his eyes dark and satisfied as he lazily tapped the tip of his length against Wonwoo’s tongue, smirking at the way Wonwoo didn’t flinch—only looking up at him with something equally as wicked.

“Such a good boy,” Mingyu murmured, his voice dripping with amusement, running a thumb across Wonwoo’s bottom lip, pressing slightly before pulling away. “Maybe I should keep you on your knees more often.”

"I'm your boss, motherfucker," Wonwoo muttered, his voice wrecked from everything Mingyu had just put him through. His body still trembled, his legs weak, but Mingyu only looked at him with that insufferable smirk—proud, satisfied, and completely in control.

Mingyu hummed, adjusting Wonwoo’s tie as if he hadn’t just had him on his knees moments ago. "And yet, my boss had no problem getting on his knees for me," he teased, voice dripping with amusement.

Wonwoo scoffed, batting Mingyu’s hands away. "Whatever. What about you flirting with Jeonghan?"

Mingyu tilted his head, lips curling into a smirk. "Oh? Was my baby jealous?" He leaned in, his breath hot against Wonwoo’s ear. "I could see right through you, standing there in the parking lot looking like you were about to commit murder."

Wonwoo huffed, rolling his eyes. "You could’ve just said no."

Mingyu chuckled, sliding his hands down to grip Wonwoo’s waist. "Relax. He was just trying to make Seungcheol jealous. Turns out Seungcheol had the same plan, too."

Wonwoo blinked at that, but the thought barely settled in before he was surging forward, capturing Mingyu’s lips in a heated kiss. Mingyu groaned into it, his grip tightening, pulling Wonwoo flush against him. The moment they broke apart, their breaths mingled, heavy and charged.

"You still could’ve denied him, idiot," Wonwoo muttered, his fingers still curled into Mingyu’s collar.

"And miss watching you get all worked up over me?" Mingyu grinned, his hands sliding lower, pressing himself against Wonwoo’s thigh just enough to let him feel how much he’d been affected. "Your jealous side is kind of hot, you know."

Wonwoo exhaled shakily, trying to act unaffected. But the heat between them was suffocating, and the way Mingyu was looking at him—hungry and amused—made something coil in his stomach.

"Go ahead, then," Wonwoo murmured, turning around and pressing his hands against the wall. He arched his back, pushing his ass out just enough to taunt Mingyu. "Fuck me."

Mingyu swore under his breath, gripping Wonwoo’s hips hard enough to leave marks. "You’re a menace," he muttered, lips ghosting over Wonwoo’s shoulder before biting down, making the older hiss.

"Take it slow," Wonwoo mumbled, voice softer now, filled with anticipation.

Mingyu exhaled sharply, pressing a kiss to the spot he’d just bitten. "I know you love it rough," he whispered, sliding a hand down to spread Wonwoo open. His fingers teased over sensitive skin, dragging out a low whimper from Wonwoo.

"You’re already so desperate," Mingyu murmured, rubbing himself against Wonwoo’s entrance, teasing him with shallow movements. "Tell me how bad you want it."

"Just put it in," Wonwoo snapped, his fingers curling against the wall as frustration built up inside him.

Mingyu smirked, spitting into his hand before slicking himself up. He pressed in slowly, groaning as Wonwoo clenched around him.

"Fuck," Mingyu breathed, his hands gripping Wonwoo’s waist as he rolled his hips in slow, teasing thrusts. "Didn’t think I’d end up fucking you in a restaurant bathroom, but here we are."

Wonwoo let out a strained moan, his body stretching around the thick intrusion. "Shut up and move," he panted.

And Mingyu did exactly that.

#minwon #smut #m/m smut #mingyu #wonwoo #choi seungcheol #jeonghan #seventeen #svt smut #minwon smut #oneshots #minwon oneshot #kpop ff #svt imagines #mingyu imagines #wonwoo imagines

69 notes · View notes