#and when she’s with the hearts he’s always the one that’s like hey cap need a break? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

youreverydayfangirl · 3 months ago

Text

ENDGAME

pairing: max verstappen x singer reader

summary: the one where new beginnings are made, a second championship is one and she allows herself to fall

warning: self doubt

a/n: hey guyssss

face claim: sabrina carpenter

f1 masterlist

main masterilst

series masterlist

y/nsprivate has posted

liked by jimmyandsassysdad, thatoneartgirlalex and 20 others

y/nsprivate BACK IN THE STUDIO

jimmyandsassysdad when she writes songs about you>>

-> y/nsprivate STOP YOUR SO CUTE

livbereallydumb NEW MUSIC???

-> y/nsprivate new beginnings.

thatoneartgirlalex this new album is gonna hit so hard

-> y/nsprivate dont you know it babes

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y/nsprivate has posted

liked by jimmyandsassysdad, thatoneartgirlalex and 25 others

y/nsprivate hes actually gorgeous omg

leosfather THE ARMS 🥵

-> y/nsprivate pack it up leclerc

keekslikestospamm CAUGHT Y/N THIRSTING 🫵

-> y/nsprivate EVERYDAY OF THE WEEK EVERYWHERE

livbereallydumb if gizmo likes him i like him

-> y/nsprivate dont we know it

thatoneartgirlalex he better treat you well

-> y/nsprivate he does dont worry ❤️

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

Y/n’s screen lit up, and her heart did a small flip at the sight of Max’s name. She swiped to answer, and his face filled her screen, looking more tense than usual, his hair a bit messy as he ran a hand through it.

“Hey, champ,” she greeted with a gentle smile, trying to ease the tension she saw in his eyes. “What’s going on?”

Max managed a small smile back, but it was laced with nerves. “Tomorrow’s just… it’s everything, you know? I can’t think straight.” He paused, exhaling, his eyes darting down as if ashamed. “I don’t even know what to do with myself. I’ve never felt this... tense.”

Y/n’s expression softened. “It’s all riding on tomorrow, huh?”

He nodded, a faint flicker of vulnerability in his gaze. “If I mess it up… after everything…” His voice trailed off, and he looked away for a moment. “I want this more than anything, but it’s like every thought I have is just making it worse.”

She tilted her head, voice gentle. “Max, you’ve been incredible all season. Everyone can see how much you’ve given, but right now… it’s okay to be nervous. It just means you care.”

His eyes met hers, searching, almost as if he wanted to believe her. “But what if I fail?”

She sighed softly, offering him a warm smile. “Then you get back up and try again, just like you always do. And no matter what, I'm by your side, I promise”

He gave a small nod, his shoulders relaxing just a bit. “Thank you, Schatje. I just… I needed to hear that.”

She grinned, voice playful. “Of course, and besides, when you win tomorrow, I can say that you were calling me the night before all cute and nervous”

Max chuckled, some of the tension leaving his expression. “If I win tomorrow, the first call I’m making is to you.”

“Good,” she replied, giving him a reassuring look. “Because I’ll be here, cheering you on. Now, get some rest, champ. You’re going to be amazing.”

For the first time, he looked like he believed her. “Thanks, Y/n. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

As the light from her phone flickered off, Y/n looked at the dark interior of the hotel room she was currently in, The only glow came from the Abu Dhabi cityscape beyond her window, casting a soft, hazy light across the room.

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y/nsprivate has posted

liked by jimmyandsassysdad, thatoneartgirlalex and 25 others

y/nsprivate changed it up guys - ill always be a ferrari girl at heart

leosfather NO TRAITOR

-> y/nsprivate ITS FOR A GOOD CAUSE

jimmyandsassysdad never gonna understand how i got so lucky

-> y/nsprivate aww i love you

-> y/jimmyandsassysdad being world champion <<having you

-> y/nsprivate aww i love you 😭😭

-> leosfather CAP

-> y/nsprivate I HATE YOU

keekslikestospamm Y/N OMFG

-> y/nsprivate 🤷

thatoneartgirlalex NEVER SEEN YOU IN ANYTHING BUT RED BABES

-> y/nsprivate red girl at heart always❤️

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

"Y/nn." Y/ns head spun around to see where Alex was standing at the gate, coming to let her in. Her heart was hammering in her chest as she made her way over to meet Alex. She hadn't told Max she was coming, she wanted it to be a surprise if he won. The buzz of the paddock was electric, the air charged with energy, and everywhere she turned, familiar faces were moving through the crow. Y/n moved her cap lower and adjusted her sunglasses. More so for her comfort.

Alex grabbed her and pulled her into a tight hug. "Kika is somewhere around, I think Pierre is running a little late." Y/n nodded uncomfortable, the tension in her body high. "Hey." Alex said, drawing Y/ns attention back to her. "Everythings fine okay, and think about the look on Max's face when he sees you."

Y/n gave her a grateful smile but was still nervous. As hard as Max had been fighting, Lando had crawled his way up the standings and it was a fight to the death.

The pair made it to the familiar garage, and Y/n felt the tension leave her body at the comfort it brought her. A few paces ahead, she spotted Charles chatting with some mechanics, throwing her a quick grin when he noticed her. After he finished what he was saying, he made his way over to the girls, planting a quick kiss on Alex's cheek.

“Nice disguise,” Charles teased, noticing her cap and sunglasses. “Max will be thrilled when he sees you.” He pulled her into a quick hug before running back off the his mechanics.

The two girls made their way over to the Alpine garage where Kika had just arrived. She was muttering something in portuguese when her eyes locked on the girls.

"Never on time." She said rolling her eyes as she pulled the pair into a hug. All three of them laughed at that.

As the three girls engaged in conversation, Y/n found her self zoning out a little.

“Still good?” Alex murmured beside her, nudging her lightly.

She nodded, steadying herself. “Yeah, all good. Just… here for Max.”

Kika squeezed her hand with a knowing smile. “Then let's make sure it stays a surprise. He’s going to be thrilled when he sees you.”

As they moved through the paddock, Y/n’s heart pounded with anticipation, mind focused on the green eyed man she had fallen deeply for.

The three walked on, their voices blending with the hum of the crowd. Y/n kept her head low, hoping the brim of her cap would be enough to keep her from running into anyone who might recognize her. But, as fate would have it, the moment she rounded a corner, she accidentally brushed shoulders with someone.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, stepping to the side, her eyes firmly on the ground.

“No worries,” came the familiar voice. It took a moment for her to register it fully, but when she did, her stomach twisted. Lando. Her heart raced as she kept her face turned away, hoping he wouldn’t notice. She could feel his gaze linger on her a second too long, like he was trying to place her.

She felt his eyes on her as she started walking away, her pulse thudding in her ears, but she willed herself not to look back.

“Y/n?” Lando’s voice followed, tentative, as though he couldn’t quite believe it. She quickened her pace, hoping the crowd would swallow her up before he got a chance to catch up. But his voice called after her again, firmer this time. “Y/n, wait!”

But she didn’t stop. Alex and Kika shared quick glances before positioning themselves beside her, subtly shielding her as they continued through the paddock. She tried to steady her breath, focusing on Max and the reason she’d come here today.

“You’re okay,” Alex whispered, leaning close, her tone comforting but firm. “He doesn’t need to be part of today.”

Kika gave her hand another squeeze, a silent reminder that she had people around her who understood. They pressed on, eventually arriving at the garage, where Y/n felt the comfort of familiarity wash over her. Lando’s voice was lost in the crowd behind her, and she took a deep breath, knowing that this moment wasn’t about the past. It was about being here, now, for Max.

The last ten minutes of the race were a blur of intensity. Max and Lando were neck-and-neck, battling it out on the track like two lions. Every overtake and every turn had the crowd on their feet, and the tension was palpable. Y/n felt her pulse pounding in sync with the roaring engines, each corner threatening to shift the race's outcome. Her hands were clasped tightly, white-knuckled as she watched the screen, Alex and Kika mirroring her tension beside her.

“Come on, Max,” she whispered, her eyes glued to the screen as the cars hit the final lap. Lando had pulled slightly ahead on the last corner, but Max was right on his tail.

The team radios crackled with updates, and she caught snippets of Max’s voice, tense but determined. He was pushing the car to its limits, using every ounce of focus to close the gap between him and Lando. She knew he could feel it, the weight of the championship riding on his next move.

Max’s car edged closer, drafting behind Lando to reduce the air resistance as they hurtled down the straightaway. The gap between them was shrinking. Just as they approached the final few turns, Max made his move, diving down the inside, daringly close to the wall.

The crowd erupted as he edged past Lando, his car taking the lead by the narrowest margin. It was heart-stopping, and for a brief moment, Y/n’s breath caught in her throat as she watched, hardly daring to blink.

“Come on, come on,” Alex murmured beside her, her hands gripping Y/n’s arm.

Max’s car crossed the final corner in front, accelerating down the home stretch with Lando mere inches behind him. It was all or nothing. Y/n held her breath, the crowd’s roar filling her ears as Max’s car hurtled toward the finish line.

“Max Verstappen wins the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix and the World Championship!” The commentator’s voice rang out, echoed by cheers and applause from every corner of the circuit. Max had done it. He’d crossed the line first.

Y/n’s vision blurred with tears of relief and overwhelming pride as she watched him slow down, the realization settling on his face even through his helmet as he punched the air in victory. The entire team erupted in celebration, people rushing forward, and she felt herself swept along, her heart so full she could barely contain it.

She barely registered the tears slipping down her face as she laughed, catching a glimpse of him stepping out of his car, arms raised in triumph. The crowd’s cheers were deafening, but through it all, she felt a magnetic pull, the thrill of knowing she’d be there when he turned around. She wanted to be the first face he saw when he celebrated the dream he’d just made real.

The atmosphere at the podium was electric. Max stood in the center, his face still flushed with the adrenaline and euphoria of victory, the World Champion trophy gleaming in his hands. Confetti rained down in a glittering storm as fans cheered and waved flags. Y/n watched him from the sidelines, her heart pounding with an indescribable mix of pride, relief, and love.

As he looked out over the crowd, Max’s eyes finally landed on her, hidden among the sea of people but unmistakably there. His expression softened, and in that moment, a private smile crossed his face. She raised her hand in a small wave, feeling her own grin tug at her lips despite the tears gathering in her eyes.

Max took a deep breath, lifting a bottle of champagne and twisting off the cork, sending it flying into the air. The bubbly spray erupted, drenching the mechanics nearby. Lando wiped a droplet off his cheek, unable to suppress a hint of a smile at the chaos, but the tightness in his jaw betrayed his mixed feelings.

Back at the garage, the celebratory atmosphere still buzzed with excitement, but now it felt more intimate. Max pushed through the group of mechanics and team members, his heart racing not just from the victory but from the anticipation of seeing Y/n again. As he turned a corner, he spotted her leaning against a wall, her smile brighter than the confetti that had rained down just moments ago.

“Y/n!” Max exclaimed, rushing toward her. He enveloped her in a tight embrace, lifting her slightly off the ground. The warmth of her presence was intoxicating, and he could hardly believe she had made it.

“You did it! I can’t believe you’re the World Champion!” Y/n said, her voice bubbling with joy. “I’m so proud of you!”

“Thanks,” he replied, beaming down at her. “I couldn’t have done it without you Mijn liefje.” He leaned in closer, whispering, “You’re my lucky charm.”

They shared a tender moment, eyes locked, the world around them fading into a blur. It felt like time stood still, and all the tension from the race melted away in the warmth of their presence. In that moment, what Y/n had already been thinking was solidified, he was her endgame.

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formula1 has posted

liked by maxverstappen1, charlesleclerc and 7, 291, 103 others

formula1 Max Verstappen is the 2024 World Champion for the 4th consecutive year in a row.

tagged: maxverstappen1

charlesleclerc 🎉🎉

redbullracing CONGRATULATIONS MAX!!

landonorris good job mate

-> user1 i just know he was in pain

user2 well earned!

user3 lando should have one

-> user4 grow up

user5 so no ones gonna talk about the way max was smiling at someone when he was no the podium

-> user6 no he was just happy

-> user7 no he was definetly looking at someone

-> user8 RIGHT!

-> user9 LOOK AT HIS RECENT POST OMG

user10 why is no one talking about the fact than Y/n Y/ln was there

-> user11 WAIT WHAT

-> user12 yeah my cousin was there an shes a HUGE y/n stan and she said she saw Y/n with Alex and Kika

-> user13 😱😱

-> user13 proof??

maxverstappen1 has posted

liked by charlesleclerc, alexandrasaintmleux and 11, 293, 293 others

maxverstappen1 FOURTH WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP!! I couldn't have done it without you my love 🖤

user1 THE CAPTION IM SCREAMING

user2 WHO IS IT

charlesleclerc shes definitely giggling and kicking her feet

-> alexandrasaintmleux can confirm i just heard her scream

-> maxverstappen1 😂😂

user3 what does the black heart mean?!

-> user4 🤔🤔

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

The night was electric as Max and Y/n entered the club, the pulse of the music matching the racing rhythm still echoing in their hearts. The atmosphere was alive with celebration; lights flashed in vibrant colors, and laughter echoed off the walls. Streamers adorned the ceilings, remnants of the day’s earlier festivities, creating a glamorous backdrop for the night ahead.

Max, still riding high from his victory, squeezed Y/n’s hand as they made their way through the crowd. She felt a mix of excitement and nervousness; the energy around them was contagious. As they reached the center of the club, they were greeted by a chorus of cheers from their friends, who had gathered to celebrate his win.

“Max!” Pierre called out, raising a bottle of champagne as he waved them over. “You made it! We were starting to wonder if you’d show up!”

Max grinned, pulling Y/n closer to him. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

The group enveloped them, and Y/n felt the warmth of camaraderie wash over her. Daniel handed Max a drink, giving him a playful shove on the shoulder. “To the champion!” he shouted, and Charles raised his glass in agreement. “You earned this!”

They made their way to the dance floor, surrounded by friends and the infectious beats of the music. As they danced, it felt like the world had faded away, leaving only the two of them. Max pulled her in close, their bodies moving in sync, the rhythm of the music guiding them.

Y/n laughed as Max spun her around, her hair whipping through the air. She felt free, unburdened by the past and the weight of expectations. In that moment, all that mattered was their connection, the joy of celebrating his hard-earned victory.

“Can you believe it? You’re the World Champion!” Y/n shouted over the music, her voice filled with exhilaration.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” he replied, his eyes sparkling.

The song shifted to a slower beat, and Max wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. “Thank you for being here,” he said softly, his gaze sincere. “You really are my lucky charm.”

They swayed together, the world around them blurring into insignificance. For Y/n, it felt like the beginning of something beautiful.

As the night wore on, laughter and cheers filled the air, and the celebration continued. Y/n found herself lost in the moment, reveling in the energy of the club and the warmth of Max by her side. Her heart was full of him, she didn't think she could ever get enough.

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y/nsprivate has posted

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y/nsprivate the king of my heart 🖤

jimmyandsassysdad 🖤

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just got back from a party and realised i forgot to post <3

this is prolly shit but whatever

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mountainsandmayhem · 4 months ago

Text

BDSMaid - Chapter 5 Part Two

Series Summary: After recently graduating you take what is supposed to be a job to save money before you go back to university to get your law degree. Your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. Easy. Simple. Mundane. Until one of your clients is home and everything you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

Chapter Summary: You and Joel go to a Shibari class together; an innocent date, or is it?

TW: age gap (Joel 45/reader 22), reader does have some descriptors so more of an OC. Reader has longer hair and Joel can lift her. Mutual pining, kissing. Spoiler triggers below the cut in red.

WC: 8.2k

AN: Ok fiiiiiinnnneeeeee I couldn't wait any longer and I left you all on kind of a cliffhanger. As always, thank you to my lovely @lotusbxtch for reading and encouraging and helping me grow. Thanks @mermaidgirl30 , @littlevenicebitch69 and @joelmillerisapunk for being my lil cheerleaders. @for-a-longlongtime thanks for stoping me from working on that bull rider series LOL. Ok, enjoy this slowly because I haven't even STARTED chapter 6 yet, so I doubt it will be out until late October. Dividers and banners by the oh so talented @saradika-graphics

Masterlist || Series Masterlist

TW: complete sensory deprivation (tied down, blind folded and has hearing blocked), multiple orgasms, denial

Joel

Joel has tried to keep his distance since referring to tonight as a date. He left another large tip for your clean this week and then made sure he was as busy as possible to stop himself from going home to see you. As he coaxed you into drinking the orange juice and the water he kept hearing “it’s a date” over and over again in his mind, and he’d cringe internally. He wouldn’t have blamed you if you had leaped out of that bed and ran home. The thought of you wanting him in that way is ridiculous. Not only because he’s over twice your age, but you came to him for help with building self confidence and for an escape, and then he went and said something so fucking stupid.

He shakes his head and pulls up his emails, trying to distract himself for what feels like the one hundredth time. Of course he wants to date you, he’d be crazy not to, but he can’t blur those lines. Furthermore, even if there was the slightest chance that you felt the same way he can’t risk breaking your heart the way he’s broken so many others.

She’s going to break yours, old man. Not the other way around.

Wednesday has been absolutely crawling. Time almost mocking him with how slow it’s ticking by. As he goes over the list of tonight's guests, Tess knocks on his small office door at the club.

“Hey,” she says, plopping down in the arm chair across from the desk. “You coming tonight?”

“Of course. Looks like a good turn out. Did the instructor make it in ok?”

“Cap picked her up from the airport yesterday and got her all settled at the hotel. Do you think you’re going to need me tonight?”

Joel cocks an eyebrow at her. He’s known Tess since she was ten. Her and Tommy are the same age, Joel being two years their senior. Aside from a few months when Tess and Tommy were sixteen, the three of them have been inseparable ever since. Tess was usually the undeclared leader of the group due to her bossy nature, but she kept the Miller brothers out of trouble most of the time.

“What’s wrong, Tess?”

“Nothin’,” she crosses her arms across her chest. “I am the planner, you and Tommy are the personality. I’m fine to stay behind the scenes for this one.”

“You’ve been acting strange since the poker night.”

She rolls her eyes at him. She’s probably the only person ballsy enough to do that to Joel besides Tommy, but Joel’s almost convinced his little brother is more dumb than ballsy. “I’m fine, Joel. The staff is all in good morale, and that’s my department. Remember?”

Joel just stares as she continues, lowering her voice to mock his. “I need you to be the people person. Hire them, train them. I’m not patient enough because I’m a big scary dom who will just want to spank them for not listening. I also can’t plan anything because I have a man brain.”

“Hilarious,” Joel deadpans as Tess laughs at her own jokes. “I’m being serious though, are you sure you're ok?”

“Yes, you don’t need to be concerned about me. I’m actually a little gutted I’m gonna miss it. Tommy told me there’s been a very pretty young lady hanging around you lately.”

Joel puts his reading glasses on with one hand and pointing to his door with the other. “Out.”

You

Joel referring to tonight as a date has been on loop for the last few days. He has this amazing way of shutting off your brain and then leaving you with so many new questions. Either way, when a few more college letters came over the last few days you convinced yourself that right before leaving for the shibari-demonstration-slash-date was the best time to open them.

Odette and Jamie sit on the couch across from you as you slide open the first letter. The thick eggshell parchment stamped with the Yale logo pops open easily. You close your eyes as you open the paper, the only sound in the room is the thundering of your heart behind your ribs.

You peel your eyes open and read out loud. “We regret to inform you that you have not…” your voice falls off, fingers shaking as you put it back in the envelope.

“Hey, we expected a few no’s,” Jamie says gently, always the optimist.

Odette takes the other approach, “Their fucking loss, bunch of stuffy old cunts! Next!”

You laugh at the juxtaposition of your friends' responses and reach for the Harvard letter. “We regret to inform you…”

“Keep going babe,” Jamie says softly.

You pick up the bright white Columbia letter. “We regret to inform you…fuck.” You feel the defeat start to creep in, like thick morning fog. It’s suffocating, choking all the happiness and excitement you had for tonight.

“What the fuck is wrong with these schools!” Odette says, snatching the letters up so she can check for herself. “Do the Toronto one, Canadians are supposed to be nice.”

“I can’t open anymore,” you say as your head falls back into the sofa. The fog starts to spread through your body, shutting you down inch by inch. You know you have to open the rest. You’ll spend the rest of the night wondering what they say if you don’t finish them. “You do it, Jamie.”

She shuffles in her seat uncomfortably. She’s not the kind of girl who likes to disappoint others; she's bright and happy but at this moment she’s the only person that you can take bad news from. As if she can read your thoughts, she grabs the University of Toronto letter. The sound of the envelope popping open slices through you. She clears her throat as she opens the paper and then reads aloud the same sentence you did. The letters from Duke and Notre Dame follow the same painful routine. With each rejection your stomach swirls, nausea building on top of self doubt and anxiety.

Six out of the eight universities you applied to have turned you down; Berkeley and the University of Austin are your only chances left at reaching your dreams. The silence in the small rental unit has you on edge, so much so that when your phone vibrates beside you you jump. A sunset beach photo from your last trip to California is the background from a text from Cap telling you he’ll be at your doorstep in about twenty minutes.

“I gotta finish getting ready,” you say, dragging yourself to the bathroom to touch up any makeup and brush your teeth.

“Babe?” Jamie says, following you down the hall. “You wanna stay here instead of going to that mixer?”

The reminder of the lie sends a new wave of nausea through you. Tonight you became a law school reject and an even bigger liar. Don’t forget that you’re also falling in love with an unattainable man, says the glittery pink box. You mentally lift a single finger in its direction, it usually doesn’t turn on you like that.

“I need the distraction.” You say, deciding that that’s not really a lie.

Your friends look at you with sadness in their eyes and even though you’re sad too, you wish you could tell them about Mister Miller and the club. You know they’d be excited about whatever this thing is and it would really help to have someone to decipher all the moments that live in your mind.

“It’s a date”.

When you walk through the large door from the lobby and into the club, you’re welcomed by a completely different atmosphere. It’s not all dim lights and sexy music like it normally is; instead the overhead lights are on and all the people are dressed in regular clothing or athletic wear and not the sexy outfits they’d normally pick to come here. Joel is no exception, dressed in dark wash jeans and a fitted black t-shirt. You catch the glint of his gold ring while he’s engrossed in deep conversation with a blue and purple haired woman along the edge of the dance floor. As if you’re his due north or the other side of his magnet, after just seconds of being in the same room as him, his eyes collide with yours. He mouths an ‘excuse me’ at the woman without looking away from and his long legs eat up the distance between the two of you. He meets you just before the bar and immediately wraps his arms around you, one hand coming to the nape of your neck, silently guiding your forehead to his strong chest.

“What’s wrong, sweet girl?” You love how easily he can read you, but you hate that this is the second time this week that he’s seeing you like this. You know you have moments of weakness, but you don’t let anyone see that and you DEFINITELY don’t inconvenience others with your weakness.

“Hasn’t been my best day, but I really don’t want to talk about it.” You don’t want to dump all of this on him now, not when he looked so excited when you said you’d attend tonight.

“Ok, I’m here for you if you want to talk about it though. You don’t have to deal with this on your own.” His lips come to the crown of your head and you breathe him in letting his ash and leather scent break down your walls.

“I didn’t get in,” you mumble and he holds you tighter for a brief second before his hand moves to your chin and tilts up to meet your gaze.

“All of them?” he asks gently but something akin to anger flares in eyes for just a second.

“Six of them. I haven’t heard from two.” His thumb feels like heaven as it runs along your jaw.

From across the club the blue and purple haired woman, who is now on the stage, claps her hands. “Good evening, everyone! I’m Starr. If you and your brave partners could start making your way to the floor, we can get started right away!”

“Do you want to leave?” Joel says, his warm coffee and chocolate eyes dancing around yours. No one looks at you like that; no one ever asks what you want. This is one of those looks that you wish you could talk to your friends about.

“No,” you say truthfully. “I want to be here with you.”

“I wasn’t going to let you leave without me. Do you want to go somewhere else together?”

You step back and grab his hand, his fingers thread through yours as if you do this everyday, as if this is normal, and you pull him towards the floor. He stands behind you, an arm wrapped protectively around your middle, similar to how he did the first time you went through the voyeur room. Starr introduces herself and her wife and then begins explaining rope safety and terminology like rigger and rope bunny, before launching into a step by step on tying a beautiful star harness across her wifes clothed chest. The two women hand ropes to the person who will be doing the rigging and as the rope lands in Joel’s hand your pussy flutters at the realization that you’re about to become Mister Miller’s rope bunny. You knew that coming here tonight, even if it did include lying to your friends, would help you feel better. The disappointment of being rejected is slowly replaced with an excited anticipation of learning something new with a man who has done nothing but choose you since laid your eyes on each other.

Starr projects step by step instructions up on the back wall of the stage and Joel clears his throat behind you as he begins. The sound of the rope running through his hands as he folds it in half sends a shiver up your spine. You try to distract yourself by clipping your hair up and out of the way.

“Arms up,” he rasps, and places a light kiss on the soft curve of your neck as he wraps the rope around your ribcage, just below your breasts. You purposely wore a tight t-shirt and leggings tonight. If anyone asks, you’ll say you just assumed it would be easier to be in something form fitting rather than loose, but the truth is that you did some research on Shibari classes and it was recommended to wear clothing that was tight to the body. As he walks around you to make the first diagonal cross of your chest he says, “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

You lock your eyes with his as he loops back up, crossing the rope over your other shoulder and walks behind you. “Yes, at least not yet.”

“Alright,” he says softly, pulling the rope back through the first band he made. “What do you want to talk about then?”

Your daughter. Your wife. The guitars and books of lyrics. Where do you see yourself in 5 years? Do you like me or do you like like me? How do you feel about an age gap romance? Your brain races with a million things you could ask, and maybe would ask on a date. However, this is anything but a date, right? A dom and sub don’t date, there are strict rules. He tells you what to do, you do it. You don’t date.

The silence between you two feels like it’s lasted forever, you flinch as you ask the first thing you can think of. “How old are you?”

“Almost forty five. It says that on my profile, sweet girl. For someone who likes research…” His voice trails off. Is he flirting?

“I refuse to look at it in case you try to pawn me off to Tommy again,” you tease. You bite your cheek to hold in all the questions you want to ask as he chuckles behind you. You lift your arms as per the next slide and he brings the rope up towards your armpit as you settle on a neutral topic. “Baseball,” you say flatly.

Joel laughs silently as he walks around your body, the rope coming across to your other armpit and he’s behind you again. “Baseball?”

“Ya, it’s America’s favourite pastime.” Joel's fingers feel warm through the fabric of your shirt as he continues to work the ropes.

“Ok, so what do you want to discuss about baseball?” He wanders in front of you again, following the instructions perfectly.

You shrug a little, lifting your arms again as you follow along with the slides. “Did you ever play?”

Starr circles around the two of you, “Great job, Joel. You ok, honey? Not too tight anywhere?”

You shake your head no and then you and Joel get lost in each other again. “Yes, I played for most of my childhood. I was pretty good too.”

You chuckle, “Why am I not surprised.”

“What?” he says, half laughing.

“Seems like Joel Miller is good at everything,” you say lightly, almost in admiration. He’s behind you again, feeding the ropes through themselves. The back looks beautifully intricate, and you can see other couples getting frustrated before either Starr or her wife comes and helps them. You continue, “Let me guess, you were like a big all-star pitcher or something?”

“No,” he answers.

“What position did you play then?” You glance down at your chest at the star shape across your chest, the rope scrapes gently on the exposed skin of your neck with the movement. It’s stunning, exactly as the demonstration and the picture. Yep, Joel Miller is good at everything.

A new voice joins your conversation, “Best first baseman the school has ever seen.”

You crane your neck over your right shoulder towards the source; Tommy. You clench your molars when you see him with Jade; the beautiful icy blonde woman that Joel had tied to his desk the first time you met him. Joel shifts uncomfortably as she flutters her lashes at him. “As I was saying,” Joel huffs in his brother's direction before turning his attention back to you. “I played first base and Tommy was the back catcher. Our mom pretty much put us in any sport she could afford to keep us out of trouble.”

“That’s kind of fascinating,” you say, looking back towards the stage and trying to get back into the safe little bubble you and Joel have created.

“I dunno about that, sweet girl.”

The combination of him using that nickname and the feeling of his fingers on your body cause another shiver to roll up your spine, and suddenly it’s just the two of you again. It’s so easy to get lost with Joel, every ounce of that fog from earlier has dissipated. He’s like the warm morning sun, chasing away all the thick haze that coated you in the darkness. “I think this is a safe nickname space only, Sweet Cheeks.”

He swats your bum gently eliciting a giggle to pass your lips before getting back to weaving the rope in and out along your spine. “Careful. Now why is it kind of fascinating?”

“I mean, Tommy played at home plate, you played at first base.”

“I don’t know where you’re going here, Freckles.”

You smile over your shoulder at Joel. “Well, don’t you see the connection? You don’t have sex with your subs, Tommy does. He goes to home plate, you stay at first base.”

Joel arches an eyebrow at you as you flash him a cheeky smile and then he lets out a laugh. A real laugh that sounds like it’s coming straight from his stomach. His big beautiful smile draws up his cheeks causing the skin around his eyes to crinkle. The sound is almost enough to make you weak at the knees. “I swear to god, Freckles, I love the way your brain works.”

The rest of the group finishes off their harnesses and Starr begins the next part, explaining now how to tie the arms around the biceps and secure them to the harness. They hand out the ropes again and you reach behind yourself to criss cross your arms and grasp your opposite elbows. Just as Joel begins folding the rope over in his hands, Jade speaks.

“She sort of hit the nail on the head with that one, Mister Miller.” Envy flares in your eyes as she steps towards Joel, leaning into him. “I can’t wait for tomorrow. I’ve missed you.”

You glance towards Joel, expecting to see him looking angry but his soft eyes meet you with guilt written all over his face. You watch his throat as he swallows hard and the happy, sparkly bubble you built bursts and the fog returns. Your heart drops to your feet, it was too good to be true, you knew it was too good to be true and he almost had you fooled. You don’t think, you just act, you need to get away from this space and all these people as bile rises in your throat.

Your feet feel heavy as you walk quickly toward the voyeur room, slipping past the closed sign that's propped up outside the curtain that conceals it. Darkness surrounds you, the rope harness feels like it’s smothering you as you try to take deep calming breaths. A flash of light from the otherside of the curtain fills the room as someone follows.

“Go away, Joel.” You say quietly, trying to force air past the lump growing in your throat.

“It’s Tommy.” He says, flicking on a dim light and noting the way you’re pulling at the rope closest to your throat. “Let me untie you so you don’t hurt yourself.”

You step back, a wall slamming down around you. Tommy raises his hands, “Please, just let me untie you so you can breathe.”

You spin slowly, giving your back to him and he approaches. His fingers pulling and working the ropes and the irony of him removing knots as you start to mentally tie yourself up in them is enough to make you nauseous. You retreat into your mind, looking for that stupid box. I fucking told you! You practically scream at the shadow you know it’s hiding in.

“Try to slow your breathing for me,” Tommy says softly as the rope begins to loosen and fall away from your body. Tonight felt too normal, too comfortable. You started to feel like maybe Joel was feeling the same way you do, but now you feel like you’ve been slapped across the face with yet another reminder that you are not enough. Six out eight universities and the man you completely misread.

“I’m so fucking stupid.” It doesn’t come out self deprecating or angrily. Just as if you’re stating a fact, similar to how you’d say you like the colour green.

“No, this is on me.” The rope falls away from your body and you step away, spinning to face Tommy. “I shouldn’t have said yes when she asked me to bring her here tonight. I assumed Joel had ended it before they were in Europe.”

“What?” You breathe out in disbelief. Even though you can see the rope in Tommy’s hands, it still feels like it’s around your throat.

You wander towards the nearest couch. All those pictures, all those flirty texts and she was there the entire time? You hear your mothers voice again, ‘You might be the smartest one in this town but the real world is going to eat you up and spit you out.’ Nothing has felt more true, especially today. Six schools rejected you, selecting smarter shinier applicants and now the same thing is happening with Joel. You knew you didn’t hold a candle to her, he wanted you to go with Tommy so he could keep her, didn’t he?

‘It’s only you.’ His desperate voice from the day in his office comes out of the shadows of your mind. But it’s not only you. If he didn’t end it with her then it’s her too. You’re constantly in competitions that you have no business being in.

“No, not ‘they’. Not like that. They were there for different things, not together,” Tommy’s voice has a hint of panic. “...I’m really fucking this night up, aren’t I?”

Just then, Joel and Jade come through the curtain. “Sweet girl….”

“No,” you say, cutting him off with a wave of your hand. You want to yell and scream and ask him what was with all that “it’s only you” bullshit.

“Baby, please, just listen to me.” Joel kneels in front of you and you stand up. His hands come to either side of the couch, keeping you there. “Please?”

You can feel his eyes on you but you keep staring straight ahead, the curtains of all the rental rooms are drawn shut. “Please just go, Joel.”

Jade steps into your line of vision and you can feel the jealousy twisting at your stomach. She’s fucking beautiful. Long icy blonde hair that looks silky to touch, slender limbs and a perfectly symmetrical face. Her make up is done to perfection, and to top it all off she was kissed by an angel in the breast department.

“I’m sorry. I left the country a few days after I saw you for your birthday celebration. I went to Germany to get married and I wasn’t coming back.” Her eyes go soft for a second as she looks down at her bare left ring finger and then back to you. “Clearly I didn’t do either of those things. I haven’t spoken to Joel and I just assumed our regular time slots still stood.”

Even without looking down, you know Joel hasn’t looked away. From the moment you met him, you’ve been able to feel his gaze on you. It’s one of the things you like so much about him, the way he looks at you. You feel warm and seen, and most importantly, safe in his gaze.

Tommy clears his throat gently and you glance his way. “Ending things with a sub is tricky. It has to be done in person. I know Joel better than anyone else, he ended things with everyone else. He’s gonna beat the shit out of me for this, but he’s crazy about you and he’s only ever looked at one other person the way he looks at you.”

“Tommy,” Jade's voice cracks as she says his name. “I think you should untie me so I can leave. I really am sorry, to all of you.”

You watch the two of them disappear back into the main area of the club before you finally allow yourself to look down at Joel. His eyes are big and soft, he looks so vulnerable. Is this real though? When you think about how easily he can slide on his dominant mask you aren’t sure what you can and can’t trust, and that’s really fucking horrible considering trust is the most important thing between a sub and dom. He could be lying, he gains blow jobs and doing whatever else he wants to your body by keeping this up.

But what does Tommy gain from telling you what he just did? Tommy has no skin in the game here.

Joel

His heart is flying wildly behind his chest, blood coursing through his ears. He never thought he was going to see Jade again. Neither of them talked about it really, but after that session that you walked in on she canceled the next one and told him she was moving to be with her fiance in Germany and was getting married. He continues to look up at you; the ever growing pinch in his neck be damned, he’s not looking away. Even at this angle you manage to take his breath away. It feels like hours have gone by when you finally speak.

“I thought it was only me,” it comes out as a whisper and immediately shatters the little bits that were left of his composure.

“It is, sweet girl. I promise you it is.”

“I want to believe you,” your voice is so calm. He doesn’t deserve you being calm right now. Or does he? You came into this very methodical. Maybe these are just sub-dom transactions to you.

“What can I do?” He says hopefully. “I’ll do anything you need, sweet girl.”

You let out a shaky breath and he can see the wall building behind your eyes, that fun goofy girl who isn’t afraid to crack a joke is slowly locking herself away. He prepares himself for you to tell him this is over, or that you need time. He reminds himself that this was always going to end in heartbreak for him, so may as well get it over with now instead of when he’s fully in love with you, before he’s learned how those warm walls of your pussy feel against his cock. Because there really will be no coming back from that if that happens.

As he tightens the muscles in his core, physically preparing for the metaphorical blow to the gut he watches your long lashes flutter shut and when you open your eyes again the wall is gone. The shimmering pools of the eyes he’s enamored by are back and relief washes over him.

“Nothing, Mister Miller,” your voice is saccharine sweet. “Trust is the most important thing between a sub and their dom. I can’t let my own anxiety ruin this, but I might just be a bit guarded until I’ve calmed all those thoughts.”

He whispers your name, biting back a groan as your hands meet his hair. “I’m so sorry that happened, baby girl.”

“I know. So am I. I shouldn’t have gotten jealous. It’s just…”

“No, you can be jealous. I told you one thing and -.”

You tug at the strands of his hair and shush him. “I’m not done,” your voice is stern. Joel isn’t used to hearing your tone like that and he suddenly feels his chest swelling with pride. This sweet bubbly person in front of him is morphing into a confident badass. That’s probably the exact tone you’ll use in boardrooms or courtrooms when other lawyers try to talk over you and he can only hope that one day he’ll get to witness that. “I shouldn’t have gotten jealous, but I really like the way I feel around you. It’s selfish of me, but I’d like to keep feeling like this for the few months I have left here before I leave for law school.”

Selfish. He lets that word wash over him. The most selfless person he’s ever known is worried about being selfish? No, he thinks, she deserves this. Hearing you say that you’re leaving makes him feel like his chest is caving in on itself. He’ll deal with the inevitable heartbreak when you leave him. He knows those rejection letters were hard on you, but he helped you to feel better and he’s going to hold on to that and give you that for as long as he possibly can.

Your fingers release his hair and he watches you walk the few steps to where the rope Tommy untied for you lays on the floor. He licks his lips as you bend to pick it up, eyes trailing over the delicious curves of your ass. “It would be my pleasure, sweetheart.”

You turn, walking back towards where he’s kneeling and holding the ropes out to him you say, “Is the workshop over?”

He stands up, his fingers grazing yours as he takes the rope. Electricity tingles up his forearms at the feel of your soft skin. Your body is so close to his that he can feel your soft warmth radiating against him. You being at this proximity immediately put him at ease.

“No, there’s a bodysuit tutorial right now,” he says. You nod, stepping around him. Suddenly, Joel grabs your elbow to stop you, lowering his lips to your ear, and lowering his voice to that gravelly tone he knows you love, he rasps, “I should punish you for letting another dom untie what’s mine.”

You smirk up at him, “I’d like to see you try, Sweet Cheeks.”

You

Joel works silently around you and you lose yourself for a bit in the events that unfolded tonight. Joel has knelt in front of you before, but never like that. The sad, helpless look in his eyes, the slight slump of the shoulders. He was submitting to you, and when your fingers met his scalp, he leaned into your touch. The way his body melted at your touch was intoxicating. He wasn’t Mister Miller in that room tonight, he was Joel, and the dichotomy of this man is astounding.

After about thirty minutes of Joel twisting, turning and pulling he has your upper half tied into a zigzagged bodysuit of rope. Joel steps in front of you and bends slightly to reach between your legs. When he brings the rope between your thighs and as he feeds it through the bottom of the chest piece, the seam of your leggings brushes against your clit. You jolt at the contact, your cheeks flushing crimson as Joel's eyes meet yours in a flash of onyx and honey. He begins shaping the bottom part of the bodysuit, bent in front of you the entire time and locking eyes with yours every time he tugs the ropes into place.

You glance nervously around the room to see if anyone else is having the same reaction. You expected this night to be fun and silly, the way a date should be. And it was for a while, but now it’s taken a very erotic turn. The blush of your cheeks warms down your chest and neck as you hold off on what could be a very vocal orgasm in front of a room of people who you don’t necessarily want to witness it.

Joel finally finishes the body suit and moves to stand behind you, his patchy facial hair brushes the shell of your ear as he whispers, his voice full of gravel, “Hands behind your back, my sweet girl. We aren’t done.”

A shiver races up your spine and your arms fly back. “So eager,” Joel says softly, grazing his teeth along the lobe of your ear, adding gasoline to the small fire that’s been building between your thighs.

You’re sure the arm restraints only take about three minutes to complete, but it feels like hours. The three knots that lay around your wrists, forearms, and biceps keep your posture nice and tall, and your breasts pushed up through the body suit. Once he’s finished, Joel spins you to face him, and that rope works its way in between the lips of your now absolutely soaked pussy. You squeeze your thighs together, the soft expression on his face only intensifying the growing ache. He’s such a fucking tease, you think, and now he’s looking at you as if you put the stars in the sky. Finally, his dark brown eyes settle on yours and he gives you a closed lip smile.

“What?” You ask breathlessly.

“I jus’ thought that I’d go all caveman seein’ you like this,” he steps into you, one hand cupping your cheek, the other tugging on the rope near your waist, which jiggles the rope that has you on edge. Joel’s voice lowers, this next part just for you to hear. “But you just look so beautiful.”

He tugs up on the rope and pleasure courses through you as you gasp quietly. He gives you that sexy smirk that makes that dimple carve into his cheek.

Yep, he’s a fucking tease. The little box says, confirming your thoughts.

“You like that, sweet girl?”

He tugs again and your forehead falls to his chest. “Please, Mister Miller,” you whisper into his expensive cotton t-shirt.

Starr interrupts the two of you, but you can’t peel yourself away from Joel right now. The slightest move of that rope might make you explode. “Well, based on that reaction I’d say you tied it just right, Joel.”

“Thank you for coming, Starr. I’m sure we’ll host one of these again soon. Tommy is by the bar, he can help you kick everyone out.”

“Joel,” she says, a slight hint of amusement in her now hushed voice. “Your rope bunny is on the verge of having an orgasm, go.”

With that he hoists you over his shoulder and walks towards the door that leads to the private rooms. “Fuckfuck, I’m gonna -” you whisper into his broad back and squeeze your thighs tighter as Joel walks.

The second the door shuts, separating you from the others Joel puts you on your feet and jiggles the rope around your waist. “Come, baby.”

You fall into him for support, his other arm wrapping around you to hold you up as stars blur your vision. “That feel good, my little rope bunny?”

“Yes - oh god, yes.” Your arms pull at the ropes restraining them behind your back and you can’t hold it anymore. Your orgasm practically slams through you as you gasp and moan into Joel's broad chest. “Fuck, Mister Miller.”

“You’re so beautiful when you let go for me. I’ll never get sick of watching you like this.” He continues to work the rope as your high crests and your legs start to go weak and boneless below you.

“I can’t…p-please Mis - Fuck.” Joel lifts your lax and quivering body over his shoulder again and makes his way to his room, placing you at the foot of the bed, spinning you and pushing between your shoulder blades until your chest meets the mattress.

“Spread your legs,” he commands and you listen, moving your feet to be shoulder width apart. He wraps two cuffs around your ankles, and attaches them to the bottom of the bed posts before doing the same to the ropes around your arms. You’re trapped, stuck bent over the end of the bed and even though you’re fully clothed under all of these ropes, this is easily the hottest thing you’ve ever done. “Fuck me. How are you so goddamn sexy even when you’re fully clothed.”

You hear Joel’s footsteps around the room, gathering whatever he has decided to use on you tonight before you can feel him behind you. “Sweet girl, I do believe I read that you would be interested in sensory deprivation. Is that correct?”

“Yes, Mister Miller,” you hum.

“Do I have your consent to blindfold you and then have you listen to music in noise canceling headphones?”

Fire erupts in your stomach, your core pulsing at the thought of him doing whatever he wants to you. “Yes, Mister Miller.”

A silky black blind fold slips over your head, Joel's large body covering your back. “What’s your safeword?” he growls, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Stegosaurus.” Just once you’d like that to not leave your lips in the whiny, desperate tone it does when he asks you that question.

“Good girl,” he praises before the plush headphones cover your ears. All you see is black, all you hear is soft decorative piano music, and all you feel is the warmth of Joel over your buzzing skin. There’s not a single thought in your mind, everything is silent. This is what you need and you start to worry that you’ll become addicted to the way Joel makes you feel everything while thinking nothing.

The warmth of his body disappears from you and you whimper at the loss. Your eyes clench closed as if that will help you be able to find him. A thin, pulsing vibrator hits the back of your thigh and you jump. Joel's large hands rubs your opposite hip and every muscle relaxes under his touch. The vibrator pulses softly as he moves it up your thigh, tickling along your hip, and then down the other leg. You can’t hear the sounds that you’re making but you’re sure they’re desperate, needy gasps.

After teasing your arms Joel slips something small and hard between your body and the rope that’s been torturously teasing at your clit before you feel him pull away. You adjust so your forehead is resting on the mattress before it dips with the weight of him sitting beside your head. His warm fingers wrap around your neck and he kneads the muscles.

“Mmmm, thank you Mister Miller,” you hum.

Whatever Joel slipped against your clit comes to life, a dull vibration that is sure to be your undoing has you attempting to arch your back, but you can’t move. Your breathing quickens, short little puffs of air passing your lips.

“I’m gonna come,” you murmur quietly, or at least you think it’s quiet since you can’t hear yourself or anything else. Joel’s strong fingers continue the delicious swirling patterns up and down the sides of your neck as you begin to shake. “Oh god - I’m so close!”

Just as you’re about to slam head first into another orgasm the vibrating stops and Joel’s fingers disappear from your skin. “No,” and this time you know it wasn’t a whisper or a whimper.

The mattress jostles and then you feel Joel behind you again. A hand comes to one of yours, coaxing it out of the fist you’ve apparently clenched before doing the same to the other. The vibrating starts stronger this time and both his hands come to yours, his thumbs massaging at your palms. It doesn’t take long this time before you’re right on that edge again.

“Fuck, Mister Miller. Puh-please don’t stop!” Your legs start the familiar shake that happens right when you’re about to tip over the edge and he doesn’t follow your wishes. The hand massage stops, quickly followed by the vibrator being switched off. You groan in frustration and he lays a quick, sharp spank over your legging clad right ass cheek. “Hnnng - sorry.”

You can’t be certain, but based on the warm puffs hitting your core you’re pretty sure he’s knelt down behind you. The vibrator comes to life again, stronger than the last two times and his hands work at massaging the muscles along the back of your thighs. This is torture; wonderful euphoric torture and as much as you want it end, you also don’t ever want him to stop making you feel this way.

You let your eyes flutter open behind the blindfold, it’s still just as dark but you see that little pink sparkly box. The one that’s overflowing with emotion for Joel. You should push it back into the shadows or light it on fire, but instead you let it come out of the shadows completely. You see your hands reaching for the lid just as the white hot pleasure in your core gets close to the breaking point.

“Please please…Mister Miller - fuck!” You whimper and whine as it begins to burn hotter and then it’s gone and it feels like the air is being sucked forcefully out of your lungs.

“Nonono, I can’t. Please, I need you..” Joel's large body is across your back in a second. The hard bulge in pants pressing against your ass and the memory of how good he felt and tasted in your mouth the last time has saliva pooling under your tongue. You swallow hard as one of the padded ear pieces is lifted from your ear.

Joel’s voice is deep and gruff as he says, “What do you need, my sweet girl?”

The little box of feelings vibrates at him calling you his and you kick it back into the shadows. “I need to come, Mister Miller.”

“That right? How bad?” He says teasingly before placing a feather light kiss on that sensitive spot right below your ear.

“So bad. Please, it hurts, Mister Miller.” You are pouting into the fluffy sheets, a completely whiny mess, and you realize that you’re always a mess for him. Be it a horny or depraved one, a whiny or a pouty one, he doesn’t care and if anything you think he likes it that way, likes you that way. “I want to hear you. I miss your dirty talk, please, baby!”

“Fuck,” he breathes. “I should spank you until you can’t sit tomorrow for calling me anything but Mister Miller. You know that, right?”

“I can’t think straight. I’m sorry, just please. Please!”

He whips the headphones off of you and the vibrator hits at an intensity you have never felt before. Your pornographic scream fills the room. His large body above yours intensifies everything that was already killing you.

“That what you need, huh?”

You cry out and try to say yes but you’re sure it’s all just an incoherent mix of sounds at this point.

“God damn, baby girl. You should see yourself right now. All tied up in knots that I made. The way your leggings hug the curves of your hips and soft, creamy thighs. You’re going to be the death of me one day.”

Tears start to flow behind your blindfold as the pleasure almost becomes too much, you haven’t come yet, and at this point you aren’t sure if you’ll survive it if you do. You have half a mind to ask Joel if an orgasm can physically split you in two because that is how you feel right now.

“I’m - oh god - I’m…” You try to form the words but you can’t.

One of Joel’s hands slips between his front and your tied up arms, his hand wrapping tightly around yours. His lips come to your ear as whispers. “I got you, sweet girl, just let go for me.”

“Need to see you,” you say between gasps of air and the pleasure begins to burn in your.

Joel peels the blind fold off. You blink him into focus, his warm eyes searching your face. “Let go, you’re ok.”

As per usual, it’s his words that seem to be that final push and you let your orgasm consume you. It starts as a cold spark, a shiver up your spine and then heat flushes through every since cell in your body. You moan and writhe beneath Joel who whispers your praises like a prayer. Talking you through the intensity of the feeling. Your pussy clenches around nothing and you’re sure your panties, leggings and the rope are ruined.

“I can’t!” You gasp and Joel slows the vibration to help you ride out the decresendo of your orgasm. As the jolts of your body slow, he follows suit; the vibrator going to a dull blip and eventually nothing. Joel's thumb traces soothing patterns on the hand he’s still holding between your bodies. You take a deep and shaky breath, trying to calm your racing heart.

“Are you ok, angel?” he asks quietly and goosebumps somehow spread along your too hot body.

“Better than ok,” you say with a small smile.

Joel’s lips meet yours, soft and pliant and so full of passion. Your eyes shut as you part your lips for him and when your tongue strokes gently against his he lets out a small whimper that causes your pulse to leap. Mentally, you grab a bigger box, stuffing it with the realization that you’re falling for this man. But you will deal with that later, right now you just need to let yourself have something that is for, well… yourself.

Joel

He breaks the kiss, even though he doesn’t want to. Even though he knows that by breaking this kiss it’s only going to mean you going home sooner. “I need to get you out of these ropes and get some sugar into you.”

The two of you sit in a comfortable silence as his nimble fingers work to undo your restraints, then the intricate knots that bind your arms, and lastly the bodysuit. He really did think you looked stunning all tied up. He didn’t plan for this night to go the way it did, but when he saw the slight flush of your cheeks and the way your eyes glazed over he couldn’t resist giving you what he knew you needed. He stays close, one hand protectively on your hip as you crawl onto the bed. Once he has you seated, he pulls a fuzzy grey blanket out from a basket beside the night stand and then opens the small fridge to grab you an orange juice and water.

He cracks the top of the orange juice. “Drink this for me, please.”

He watches your eyes do a quick half roll but you don’t fight him, fingers just barely grazing his as you take the juice from him. “I had fun tonight,” you say between sips as he walks to grab the coconut oil.

Joel stands beside you. “So did I, sweetheart. Arm, please.”

You take the orange juice in your left hand and give him your right. Both of you watch as he puts oil on the few pink marks the ropes left behind. “Do you think I should change my safeword?”

He lifts one eyebrow at you and as he tends to your other arm says, “Why do you ask that.”

“I don’t know. It’s just…well, originally that little dinosaur on your coffee maker seemed so out of place. It intrigued me. Your home is beautiful, but the parts you let people see don’t give away any hints about you, except for that little dinosaur. But now that I know the whole story, it just seems too special of an item to be tied to what we do.”

“I don’t think we need to change it. You’re right, that little stegosaurus is special to me.” He sits sideways on the bed, grabbing the empty orange juice container and handing you the water. His jaw flexes once before he continues, “But so are you. I love that you felt a connection to that part of me. Ultimately, it’s your safe word, sweet girl, so you can make it anything you want, but I think it’s perfect for us.”

The soft look in your eyes as he speaks is almost enough to kill him, and when your lips twitch up ever so slightly at his words he knows he’s done for. He shouldn’t fall for you, especially since he’s sure there’s no way you’d ever feel the same way, but he can’t not fall for you.

Your name passes his lips with a nervous tremble, because he knows that what he’s about to say next is going to be his undoing. If you say yes to this next thing, if he continues spending actual time with you, he’s done.

“Ya?” you say before sucking your bottom lip through your teeth.

“Friday night is the five year anniversary party for the club. It’s a black tie event for all the VIP guests. Would you like to accompany me?”

He watches as your eyes land on your lap, your lips pressing together as if to suppress a smile. When your gaze floats back up to his, your eyes give you away. Try as you might to hide your expressions with him; he'll always know when you’re happy based on the glitter of your eyes.

“I’d really like that, Mister Miller.”

His forehead meets yours. “This might be a Sweet Cheeks moment.”

Thank you soooo much for reading! Remember to follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates for future chapters xo.

Next Chapter

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emmyrosee · 1 year ago

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Kita shinsuke gets confused after you start dating.

It’s not like it’s been a long time, far from it, but you felt so comfortable in his everyday life that he stops thinking too hard about your interactions.

You reach for his hand, he takes it. You shiver, he gives you his jacket. You’re hungry, he shares his snacks.

He gives you a compliment, you… hate him?

You must. There it is, in capital letters under his own blue text: OFBEOD KITAAAA I HATE YOU FRRR😭😭

His heart races as he rereads the text over and over again, unsure of what he could’ve possibly said to have you say ‘I hate you.’

Whatever it is, he needs to find a way to apologize.

The idea of upsetting you in a way he barely understands is concerning, it makes him extremely saddened, and he picks up his pace to get to practice.

He’s sure there’s someone there that can help him decipher your distress.

Leave it to the two twins, tying their shoes in sync, to be the first ones to notice his stress.

“Kita-San?” Osamu asks, brows furrowing. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” atsumu continues. “You’re late- you’re NEVER late.”

“And you look like you’re about to upchuck.”

Lovely.

“Osamu, Atsumu,” he says, breath shaky as the twins turn to look up at him. “You’re… familiar with relationships, yes?”

“Well he’s been single since birth-“

“HEY!”

“-but I’ve got a little bit of knowledge. What’s up?”

Kita gnaws on his lip before he passes the phone to the grey haired twin, showing him your sudden outburst of hatred towards him. Osamu quirks a confused brow as his eyes glaze over the text, the blonde twin quickly popping on his feet to peer over Osamu’s shoulder to read along.

Osamu flicks his eyes from his phone up to Kita, “what am I looking at?”

“She hates me,” he says, a frightened lilt in his tone. “And I don’t know what I do. I don’t know what I did,or said, or how I can fix this. And I…” he takes a breath in to calm down, “I need your help.”

Osamu stays silent for a bit, and atsumu cracks a cheesy smile, “cap… you didn’t do anything.”

“Huh?”

“You didn’t do anything- this is just… how some girls act,” osamu explains, and kita feels his cheeks warm up from the sudden crowd that’s gathered.

“Are we teaching Kita-San something now?” Suna teases, peering over Osamu’s shoulder to read the message. “Teaching him about giiiiiirls.”

And shinsuke wants to say something back, about how he knows girls and he doesn’t need to be taught anything…

But maybe he does.

Osamu takes a small breath in before passing his captain’s phone back to him, “sometimes, girls are just… uhm….”

“Aggressive?” He asks, and Akagi chuckles behind him.

“No,” Osamu hums thoughtfully. “I would probably say more… excited than guys, and it makes them kinda wanna… be… ferocious?”

“Feral?” Suna chimes in.

“Buck wild?”

“How about all of the above,” Aran says easily.

Kita quirks a brow, “so she doesn’t actually hate me?”

“No! She’s just excited that you complimented her, I think.”

“Yeah Kita-San,” Atsumu chuckles. “Girls only say they hate you when they love you; that’s like. A thing.”

“They also bite,” Akagi cuts in. “For… some reason.”

“They BITE?”

“I’ve been smacked so many times,” Aran playfully laments, and Shinsuke’s head whips towards him, only to make the ace shrug, “what? She’ll get excited to see you, or something good happens, and she just. Smacks your arms. It doesn’t always hurt.”

“What do you mean ALWAYS!” Shinsuke is suddenly extremely nervous about whether he received a girlfriend… or a pitbull.

“Or she’ll bite you,” Suna hums.

“Or says she hates you,” the twins circle back. At seeing their captains new nerves, they rise to their feet to clap him on the back.

“You’ll be fine, cap,” the blonde assures. “It’ll catch you by surprise, sure.”

“May be a little painful,” osamu snorts.

Atsumu snickers, “but you’ve liked her for a long time. And if it’s too much, you tell her to stop.” He nods before turning on his heel and mumbling a soft ‘hell knows you’re good at that,’ under his breath.

The conversation makes Shinsuke… convinced. He’s sure that there’s minimal that you can do to upset him, even if these methods of love lean far into the unconventional. He gnaws at his lip as the crowd disperses, golden eyes glazing over the contents once more.

He cracks a small smile, taking a soft breath in and letting his fingers take over typing and saying everything he could want to say in just a few words.

SENT I love you, too :)

You reply with an absolute jumble of words and praises, capitals and random emojis. He smiles before planting his phone in his bag and heading out to practice, feeling it buzz more than a few times in his pocket.

Maybe a few well intentioned bite marks wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen to him.

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notanactressyayy · 11 months ago

Text

—𝐰𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐞—

pairing. ex! Natasha Romanoff x fem! reader

summary. in a day you simply wanted peace, two unexpected visitors showed up. for one of them, you were glad.

warnings. smut! I am NOT responsible for your content consumption! — making out, thigh riding, strap on usage, cursing, angst (w happy ending), soft dom Nat.

notes. my first language is portuguese, so I apologize for any grammar errors. feel free to give me advice, though!

divider credits: @cafekitsune ★

Natasha Romanoff was known as a cold, ruthless woman, who never cared for anyone besides herself. Most of the people didn't know this was due her past — the Red Room was always in complete secrecy, so they feared her. She was already used to it. Whenever she started something with someone, in the next day, she had an empty bed as a gift. To be completely honest, she always felt used. Men and women touched her, to leave her in the morning.

That changed when she met you.

You could say you'd changed her completely, for the best, of course. She became more open with you, learned to express herself better and was not known as the most selfish Avenger in the team anymore.

But just like people say, not everything is a bed of roses.

Instead of using that achievement to improve your relationship, she began to care a little too much about her team of superheroes. At some point, she was no longer paying attention to you.

Reports this, reports that. Missions and more missions. "I have to go somewhere with Cap." "I have to train with Tony to a mission." "I can't, I'll have to go with Clint."

When you confronted her about this, begging for her to understand and willing to help her change, she decided that it was a better option to part ways. You were devasted, and she saw it. That made her heart ache — someone actually lov— liked her enough to want to stay.

This was the one and only reason Natasha didn't forget about you. The only reason she thought about you everyday. The only reason she teared up whenever entering her car and seeing the polaroid with the heart pendant you gave her hanging on her rearview mirror, that she didn't dare to take down.

Today, you were leaving work, heavy tired steps echoing on the pavement's wooden floor as the moonlight illuminated the room. The building was already empty, the streets, darker than your thoughts.

As you started walking to the nearest bus stop, you heard quick footsteps behind you — it was already late and usually there was no people on the streets like this. You turned your head, "you gotta be kidding me".

"Hey, Y/n!" Peter exclaimed, running to catch up with you. "I didn't know you were going to be here at 11:30pm."

You rolled your eyes and took a sharp inhale, but like always, tried to be polite. This so called coworker of yours was always looking at you, following you everywhere, and asking you things, not always work-related. You always made it clear that you weren't interested in men, and he insisted on saying he could 'change your mind'.

"Hey, Peter." you replied, faking a smile and nodding. "You need me to review your documents again?"

"Oh, no. I was just wondering if you wanna go on a date with me. Did you see the restaurant that just opened over there? I could treat you to—"

"No, I don't." you cut him off, more harshly than you intended to. "Look, Peter, I'm sorry. But I don't want anything to do with you, alright? So if you want, go ahead and find somebody else."

You shook your head, not even waiting for his reply and picking up the pace again, quickly rushing to the bus stop. That's when the guy showed you a side that you just suspected, but preferred to believe he didn't have

"C'mon, Y/n." he grabbed your arm, nails digging into your skin. "You won't broke my heart, will you? You're such a gentle, beautiful, kind woman. You will give me a chance."

You cleared your throat, feeling him get closer, and thinking about a certain Red Head — how she would gently, delicately graze your skin with her fingers, so softly whispering into your ear and bringing you to her embrace—

"Back off."

"Oh, no." he laughed. Such a creep. "I won't back off. And if you don't cooperate, I'll make you give me a chance."

Your hands trembled now, silently praying to whoever was seeing this just call the cops or do something. You didn't know the guy anyway. He didn't talk to anyone at work beside you, and you never got to know him, you would never. That's when it would be a good use to have a spy girlfriend. Just the last thing you expected to happen was to hear the sound of a gun cocking behind you, and a very familiar female voice.

"She said back off."

Relief unconsciously washed upon you as your arm was released, only because of the gun, though. You knew that if if wasn't for her, who knows what could've happened there. Peter left, annoyed, but the Russian swore to herself that she'd make his life a living hell.

"... Natasha?" you whisper, turning around with a confused and even scared frown.

"Yes," she worriedly rubbed your arm, shooting you, slowly making the feeling of the disgusting hand fade away. "Are you okay?"

"I am..." you nodded subtly, leaning into her touch. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I saw a woman being harassed. What was I supposed to do? Mind my business?" she said, obviously avoiding your question.

"You know this is not what I mean." you frowned, carefully letting go of her caress and wrapping your arms around yourself.

Natasha sighed, trying to think of a way to explain herself. 'Oh, I'm here because I miss you so much I can't even sleep anymore.'? No, it wouldn't do.

"I... followed you."

"Oh, great, so I'm being stalked twice today." you hissed, making Natasha look down with your harshness.

"No, Y/n.. I'm here for.. personal reasons. I saw you leaving work, and I noticed that guy following you. I decided to follow too, until he grabbed you and I knew I had to intervine." she explained quietly.

The fact she had said 'personal reasons' deeply hurt you, but you couldn't do anything, you had broken up after all. You nodded, and prepared yourself to walk tp the bus stop again.

"Wait," Natasha quickly stopped you, her eyebrows furrowed. "I won't let you go home like this."

This was something about the old Natasha you knew, the protective one. It was okay, you were tired, and a ride would be no harm. "Where's your getaway car?"

She smiled softly at your joke, and tilted her head. "Around the corner."

You two walked silently towards the vehicle, as she unlocked the doors with the keys and you entered the passenger seat. You threw your bag on the backseat before you could focus on the environment around you, and see the polaroid of you and Nat with the heart pendant you gave her hanging on the rearview mirror.

Natasha noticed your gaze as soon as she entered the driver seat, clearing her throat and starting the car's engine. "Couldn't bring myself to take those down."

You stayed silent, but your eyes could tell everything. I'm glad. Oh, I'm so glad.

Natasha remembered your address as if you hadn't broken up nine months ago, and when you reached your place, you too much disappointed for your own good.

"Thank you for the lift," you whispered, turning your body to be able to grab your bag from the backseat — in the exact same moment Natasha turned to unbuckle her seatbelt — your fronts touching, which made you two a little startled.

The problem was that you didn't pull away, neither of you. You slowly turned your head to meet Natasha's gaze, your face so close to hers you could feel her breath. Familiar. It was pure instinct, almost muscle memory, of the times she always kissed you goodbye when dropping you somewhere.

You didn't even notice your hand going up to hold the back of her neck, much less when she placed her hand on your thigh, and leaned in so your noses brushed. Natasha closed her eyes for a brief moment, almost savouring your closeness, your aura enveloping her once more. Then your lips barely, barely grazed, breath hitching, as she couldn't take it anymore.

The redhead pressed her lips against yours, giving them a long peck. It was surprising how much time you lasted without air. You didn't break the kiss, just darted the tip of your tongue out to lick her bottom lip, begging for entrance. She gave in, trying to pull you closer but being stopped by the goddamn control panel. As soon as you felt her tongue touching yours you realized that this was going too far. You pulled back harshly, leaving you two panting for air and a disappointed Nat.

"Do you..." you shakily breathed. "... wanna come in?"

"Mhm." Natasha hummed, turning off the engine. "Can I?"

You didn't answer, just opened the door and slipped out the car. As you entered, you could practically feel Natasha's eyes burning the place. How you didn't take down any picture of yours. How her stuff was spreading across the pavement. It gave her a sense of... hope? Of course, since she was in the same situation.

"So.. are you seeing anyone?" you asked her while kicking off your heels and leaving them by the door.

"I think you know the answer for that." the redhead practically hissed, making your head snap towards her.

"But I want you to say it." you retreated. "I want you to look at me in the eyes and tell me you didn't forget me. I want you to look at me in the eyes and tell me the reason of why you came to my town again and followed me when I left work. I want you to tell me the reason of why you kissed me just like we always did before."

"I didn't! I didn't forget you, Y/n!" Natasha snapped, looking away and tucking the loosen strands of hair of her braids behind her ears. "I didn't forget you and I never did. Alright? Happy now?"

"Is that so?" you laughed humorlessly, crossing your arms. "I thought you cared more about your superheroes buddies. Where are they now!?"

"I left them." Natasha replied, looking at you again with a mixture of anger and pain. "I left them and came back, to you, Y/n."

You froze at her words, swallowing your saliva. "... okay?"

"I came back here, because I wanted to at least a chance to explain myself. I wouldn't be able to live knowing that I hurt you, and that you think that I did it on purpose. So please, just give me a chance."

"...go on."

Natasha sighed in relief, exhaling the air she was holding. "I'm sure you know my story. You were the first one to know everything about it, about me. And I'm also sure you know you're the first one to ever love me. No one else ever loved me like you did."

You leaned against the kitchen counter, listening carefully to her words, ready to give her time and patience, like you usually did.

"... I didn't know what I was doing, Y/n. Every other relationship I had, ended in less than a week. Love is a weapon and it's letal for me, for people like me. I was, I am startled by all of this, by this fuzzy warm feeling that you always gave me, that you still do, in my thoughts.. the Avengers were my first family, and when I panicked, I tried to hang on to them. In order not to hurt you, and myself." she didn't even realize the tear rolling down her cheek, and shook her head. "That's it. I'm sorry for everything, but Y/n, you will always have a piece— you'll always have my whole heart in your hands. I'll get off your hair n—"

You couldn't. Not anymore. You rushed towards her and grabbed her face, cutting her off with a deep kiss. She was taking aback, but her hands traveled to your waist, pulling you flush against her, your fronts pressing. Nothing changed. Natasha pushed you backwards against your room's door, her tongue entering your mouth and dancing with yours. You could feel yourself getting lost in her, damn it, once more. It was like she had this spell on you — you were trapped, and didn't complain.

"Y/n," the russian uttered, hands slipping inside your shirt and giving your waist a squeeze. "I've got to have you again, at least for one last time. Please, just this once—"

Tired of her rambling, you smirked and grabbed her by the jacket, pulling her into a kiss again and dragging her into the room, slamming the door shut. Natasha took this as a 'yes', and her hands, under you shirt, went to unclasp your bra, making it fall to the ground and a groan of relief escape your throat. Before she could remove the rest of the fabric of your body, you stopped her, pushing her down to the bed.

"I always wanted to do that," you started to slowly, so slow that it almost tortured her take off your clothes, stripteasing for her.

"Shit, Y/n." she quickly started to get rid off her jacket, snd everything else she was wearing. You were careful not to trip on the pile of clothes on the floor, and walked over to her again, straddling her leg on the edge of the bed.

Natasha's hand grabbed your hips roughly, keeping you in place and it didn't take two seconds before you started to grind on her. "Nat," you breathed, arms going to circle her neck.

"Who else touched you like this while I was away?" she growled in your ear, pressing your body against hers. "Answer me,"

"No one," you whined, giving her a subtle shake of your head. "No one, Natty. J-just myself,"

"My poor girl," Nat began to roam her hands up your sides, her lips pressing kisses on your jawline, "I'm so sorry I wasn't there to help,"

"You're here now..!" you gasped, your movements faster, as she began to move her thigh to stimulate you more.

"And I don't plan on going away," Natasha murmured, tilting your head to look at her in the eyes. Even in your high, you could make sense of her words, and the weight they beared.

"Nat!" you moaned, closing your eyes shut. "I need... please.. I—I need you, inside me."

Natasha almost lost her mind with that, grabbing your hips and pinning you down to the bed. She reached her arm out for the drawer that she hoped your strap still was, and luckily, she was right. "I'm gonna fuck you like never before, Y/n." she attached the silicone cock to her hips with urgency, holding your hips in place as she ran the tip of it across your folds, making you whine in need.

"Don't tease me," you gently gripped her arms on your hips and looked at her with dreamy eyes. She couldn't resist — but your walls were so tight she had to put a little effort to enter you.

"Holy fuck, baby." she moved her hand to brush your hair behind your ear, giving you a little time to get used to the length. "So fucking tight for me,"

"I—" you breathed, interrupted when Nat started to slowly move in and out you, her red hair falling into your face. You moaned, putting her hair up in a makeshift ponytail and with your free hand, holding her neck. "God, I missed you,"

Natasha pounded faster in you with those words, your moans only getting louder by the second. She grabbed one of your legs and placed it over her shoulder, allowing her to hit your g-spot repeatedly. You thumb went to your mouth, wetting it and starting to rub her clit — she couldn't say she expected that, her soft moans saying everything.

"Cum with me," you breathlessly requested, eyes fluttering close. Natasha didn't have to be asked twice. Her hips slammed into yours, the wet sounds of her thrusting echoing the room. "Natty!"

You back arched, head thrown backwards as your orgasm hit you. Natasha's legs shook, her weight falling onto you and your arms immediately wrapping around her, keeping her close.

"Don't make me go away,"

"I could never."

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unspeakable-imagination · 6 months ago

Text

Couch Cuddles || Logan Howlette/Wolverine

Kinda a drabble, not to long.

My masterlist is here

Cw:lumberjack logan even though it's not really mentioned, lots of fluff/cuddles, mentions of sex but nothing happens, use of tabacco and alcohol, established relationship, use of petnames, fem reader

SEND IN YOUR ASK REQUESTS, ILL MAKE MORE CONTENT

"I'll be back soon," Logan said as he placed a warm kiss to the top of your temples. "I need to go to work. You know where to find me, right, princess?" You nodded silent.

His eyebrows creased and his lips turned to a small frown. You hardly caught it, but you did."I love you, Logan. Drive safe, okay?"

His mood had shifted the moment the first three words left your lips, and he already felt better. "I will, baby girl." Before you knew it, he was out the door and you were sitting on the sofa, curled in a blanket in the cabin he's built by hand for the two of you.

You'd been living together for a year, and dating for two. Maybe it was a little fast to move in, but he pulled you out of water when it felt like tou were drowning.You were stuck in living a life of manotany and Logan was always looking for some way to make his own exiting. And somehow- he figured that was you.

You weren't sure why- as you really thought you wanted different things than him. You wanted to settle down, maybe even have kids. You wanted to dance in a kitchen and shoo a cat off the table, and watch your kids throw sticks for a dog to chase.

You wanted a life of meangful relationships, not just the one you viewed with Logan. You weren't even sure if you two were considered dating.

You'd never made it official, just kind of- moved in. Sure, you were intimate, you'd discussed being exclusive, and agreed that while you were together- it would just be a simply monogamous relationship, but what kind of relationship was it?

You bristled at the idea of it simply being a situationship. You loved him and the idea of that almost made your heart shatter. Maybe you'd have to talk to him when he came home.

To fill your time, you opted to just sit with a warm cup of tea- you weren't sure what kind, you hadn't paid attention, and a book. It was some silly fantasy story about mutants, monsters, and fairy's. Midevil monster hunters, swords and magic. The white-haired protagonists adopting a cheeky blonde princess and teaching her the ways of his guild.

And you got a good portion through it, with good breaks between meals and some normal daily activities, basic cleaning, laundry, and putting something in the oven for when Logan did finally come home.

The day passed you quickly and by the time you were taking dinner from the oven, a simple cottage pie, Logan's truck rumbled as it pulled to the window and parked in its rightful spot. You watched him run his hands through his hair, you noticed the look on his face, and you watched him light his cigar before he opened the truck door and heave his way out.

Your eyes followed him as he walked past the window , towards the doorway, and lost him as he entered. You quickly averted you gaze and resorted to dishing a heaping pile of the hot meal into two bowls. Grabbing them and weaving past the chairs of the dining table, you brought them to the coffee table where Logan had sat down.

"Welcome home, Lo." It was quiet but you knew he heard you with how he gently perked. He took a deep breath and it was like a calm wave washed over him, the closer you got.

"Hey, darlin'," he started. He watched you place the two bowls onto the table and sit down next to him. He pulled the cigar from his lips and blew his smoke away.

"What are you thinking tonight? Need a drink or some soda? Water?"

"Just a beer is okay, please, love?" You were quick to get it, and your own tall glass of milk. You popped the cap from the bottle and returned to his side. She was already scarfing down his food, starved from the tirless hours he'd been working at the mill. You placed the bottle on a coaster and took your seat beside him.

You took a drink of your milk before you grabbed your own bowl, but paused before you ate. Logan put his fork in his bowl and grabbed your knee, pulling your leg to drape across his own. It made your stomach flutter, and your heart quickened at the smallest but of affection.

Logan was craving your touch most of the day. He felt so desperate for a good day, a real day, a long day with you. He'd been so busy at the mill that he'd hardly had a day off and was itching to spend time with you aside from curling up, wrapping his arms around your waist as you sleep.

He missed hearing your laugh, and missed your smile, even the small ones. He'd missed being around for more than sleep and mornings. Sure, he'd come home and snake his tounge or hips between tough thighs, but that's not what he needed. He needed you. He needed your words.

Eating was mostly silent, peaceful. You'd asked the normal questions, and ge did too. How was your day, what did you do, what did you eat, I missed you.

Logan had long finished his food as you sat there, finishing your last bites. Patting your belly, you sighed. "I'm sure full. Do tou need any more, Lo?"

"No, baby. Let me grab thoes." He'd stood and grabbed both your bowls and him empty bottle, taking them to the kitchen and putting them in the sink and garbage.

He returned and sat down, pulling you closer to his hip."Want to watch a movie, darlin'?" It was a simple ask- but it was the way he asked it thag had you turning to putty in his arms. His lips rested against your forehead, his nose in your hair. He took a deep breath, humming at how good you smelled to him

"No, I just wanna hold you." he was sure he felt his heart stop. That was all he needed from you. He just needed your attention, your love. "But Lo," you hummed. "I need to talk to you about something. Oh no. Oh god no, we're you going to leave him? The one relationship he's had successfully- and he was worried he'd loose you. He pulled his fingers from your hair and leaned backwards onto the couch, but still facing you.

You crawled onto his lap, straddling him, wrapping your arms around his neck and your face buried in his chest. What?

"What you wanna talk about, baby girl?" He said, his hands sliding up your legs and settling around your waist, locking his fingers together to hold you.

"Us," you said, your breah came out shaky, as if you were gonna cry. You raised your head from his chest and looked at him, one right land moving to cup the side of his face. "What are we, Lo?" You sounded so meek and nervous. "I'm so scared that this is just some situationship and i-"

He interrupted you. "What, a situationship? Baby, your going to be my wife." Your heart skipped a beat. Did you hear him right? You hadn't even established dating? Had you missed something

"I- I what?" He groaned. "Fuck, I was going to wait to ask you." He easily lifted you with one of the arms he ticked under you thigh and fished his other hand in his pocket. He'd pulled out a small green box. "It's not all that fancy." Your hand left his face and covered your mouth, your eyes welling with tears.

"Logan," you softly gasped. Once you were sat back comfortably on his lap he opened the ring box in front if you. It was a thing, shiny silver ring with a pretty diamond set into the band. It was simple, charming, and it glimmered. "Logan I love it."

"Hold on, baby. I havnt even gotten the chance you say it. [Name], will you marry me? Can we live the rest of our lives together? I need you to be more than my girlfriend. I need you to be my wife. I need tou to be the mother of our babies." He looked down to the ring, then back up at your face, tears freely flowing from your eyes.

"Yes logan, God yes. I want to marry you, I can't wait. I can't wait for us to have a family." He grinned and took the ring out, grabbing your hand and placing it on your ring finger. You leaned down, curling into his chest, listening to his heart. You sighed.

"I love you, my [Name]."

#logan howlett #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine #wolverine imagine #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #hugh jackman #logan x reader #deadpool and wolverine #imagine #logan howlett fluff #wolverine fluff #fluff

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ithilien-writes · 23 days ago

Note

Ficlet prompt: buddie runs into one of their exes in public

ty so much for this prompt!! 💜 i literally cycled through all the exes in my head and it was really hard to choose tbh

(to anyone reading: these were meant to be quick scenes to help unblock me so please take them in that spirit. ie. this was written really quickly and without much editing. feel free to send me some more!!)

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Buck, Blissful and Blasé [Buck/Eddie, G, ~1k words]

Eddie looks away for two seconds at most, he swears. Just long enough to scan the shelf for the specific detergent Buck always buys. He doesn't actually know the brand off the top of his head, but he knows it has a blue cap. So he scans the shelf for blue, finds the one he needs, and when he looks back down... Joy is gone.

His heart immediately races, but he only has to look down the aisle to spot her again, thankfully. She's just a few feet away, really, towards the other end of the aisle, and there's a woman crouched down to talk to her. Eddie all but jogs over to them, heart still a little in his throat.

"Hey, what did we say about running off?" he says when he reaches her, trying for stern but coming out a little panicked still. He reaches down and lifts her up into his arms and the woman she was with stands back up as well.

"Sorry, about that-" he starts to say, before he actually sees the woman's face, then- "Abby?"

She blinks at him from behind her glasses and he can almost see her mind whirring, trying to place him. It doesn't look like she's successful.

"Hi," she offers tentatively. "I don't- sorry, I don't think I-"

"Eddie," he offers, adjusting Joy in his arms and feeling supremely awkward. "Eddie Diaz. I used to be at the 118? We met when, uh-"

Recognition finally clicks in behind her eyes.

"Oh my God, the train collision," she breathes out. "You're the one who saved Sam's life."

Eddie huffs a little, looking away from her suddenly emotional gaze.

"That was all Buck," he says honestly, trying not to let the old frustration creep into his voice at the thought of it. It all happened years ago now.

He catches Abby smile a little at the mention of Buck, then she shakes her head slightly.

"I can't believe you remembered my name after all this time," she says. "You must really have a knack for that."

"Oh," Eddie says, somewhat awkwardly, "That's-"

He trails off, not sure how exactly to say, actually, I remember your name because my husband was still in love with you when we first met and he used to talk about you all the time.

He's saved - in a manner of speaking - from actually having to come up with a coherent response though. Because right at that moment, he sees Abby's eyes widen, and there's suddenly a very familiar voice behind him.

"Strawberry was on sale, so I got the six pack," Buck tells him, before easily taking Joy from his hands with a soft, "hey Sweetheart, come here."

Eddie gives him a beat, and then, sure enough-

"Abby? Oh my God. What are you doing here?"

He immediately moves to hug her - a little clumsily with only one arm free, Joy tucked between them - and Abby hugs him back, though she does appear slightly shell-shocked by his sudden appearance.

"We're in town visiting my brother," she answers his question, as Buck pulls back again.

The three of them just stand there for a moment then, seemingly at a loss for what else to say, until Abby glances between Eddie and Buck, and Buck catches the motion, jumping back in to make introductions.

"Oh uh, you- so I guess you remembered Eddie," he says, seemingly acknowledging the fact that they had already been in conversation when he walked up. "Uh, and- and this is our daughter, Joy."

Then, to Joy- "Joy, honey, this is my friend Abby."

Joy peaks her head back out from where she'd tucked it into Buck's neck as soon as he'd grabbed her from Eddie, and then tentatively smiles at Abby, who grins back at her.

"Hi Joy," she says. There's some sort of wistful emotion in her eyes when she looks from his daughter back to Buck that Eddie immediately - and probably irrationally - dislikes.

"Joy," she repeats again, still looking at Buck this time. "I love that."

"Yeah, well," Buck says, laughing a little and playfully tickling Joy in his arms to get her to laugh too, "we feel a lot of it, when she's around. So it's pretty apt."

"I'll bet," Abby replies warmly.

She watches them for a moment as Buck gets a little caught up playing with Joy and forgets he was having an adult conversation. Eddie's used to it. It happens... well. A lot.

"Well, I don't want to keep you guys," Abby says eventually, drawing Buck's attention back, "but it was so great to see you. We should get dinner while I'm in town."

"Yeah," Buck says, just as Eddie adamantly thinks, No thanks. "Yeah, definitely."

Abby pats his arm as she moves past him to leave and Buck watches her go with a look on his face that Eddie can't immediately interpret. It makes him a little nervous.

"We're not really gonna have dinner with them, right?" he asks, and it's at least enough to have Buck turning back towards him.

"What?" he says, like he didn't hear the question. But then before Eddie can repeat himself- "No, that's just- I'm pretty sure that's just something people say."

Eddie still can't place the emotion on Buck's face though, so he asks, a little tentative, "you okay, bud?"

The weird expression disappears as Buck finally looks at him properly, then down at Joy, tickling her again just to hear her giggle.

"Yeah, no, I just- that was so wild," he says. "I haven't thought about Abby in ages."

He tosses Joy up and spins her around so that she's riding his shoulders now, towering above the stacks, and they head off down the aisle again, already back to being preoccupied by which cereal to choose this week. Eddie shakes his head, watching them fondly for a moment before retrieving their neglected cart and heading off in the opposite direction.

He wonders what produce is on sale today.

#fic prompts #linus-lucy #buddie #buddie fic #911 abc #laura writes

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elryuse · 15 days ago

Note

jang wonyoung-------- where oc is three years older than wony and have been dating before ive debut but its a secret in the public eye,but then thing happened wony kind of cheated oc finds out about it but he just can't let her goo so he endure at first but then it become worse and then they kind of parted ways even though wony doesnt seem to want to let go of oc.They really cant stay away from each other even though wony and oc parted ways they are still intertwined.Lets say oc is in the palm of wony hands kind of pretty toxic but sweet yeah...

Toxic Till The End

Wonyoung X Male Reader

Disclaimer : Don't Be Toxic Kiddo, :D

You glance at the clock hanging on the wall behind the counter, wiping your hands on your apron as you wait for the next customer. It's early afternoon, a little after lunch, and the regular crowd has started to trickle in. Your café, tucked away in a quiet alley just a short walk from the busy corporate district, has always had a steady stream of customers. But lately, you’ve noticed a particular customer who has caught your attention.

It’s Wonyoung. Jang Wonyoung. You’ve known her face for a while, even before she began frequenting your café. As a popular idol, her posters and commercials are everywhere, but the first time she came into your café, it felt different. You weren’t just seeing her through a screen. She was right there, in front of you, asking for a latte with the softest voice.

At first, it was nothing special. Just a polite exchange, like with any customer. You kept your cool, even though you were a little starstruck. But the more she visited, the more those polite exchanges became something more. A smile here, a small compliment there. You found yourself looking forward to the days when she’d step through the door, her eyes scanning the room before they settled on you with a glimmer of recognition.

The bell above the door jingles, and like clockwork, Wonyoung steps inside. She’s wearing a simple, oversized coat and a cap pulled low over her face, but you’d recognize her anywhere. Today, though, something is different. She looks tired, her shoulders slightly slouched, and her usually bright expression is dimmer.

“Hey,” you greet her, offering a warm smile. “The usual?”

She nods, pulling her cap a little lower as she approaches the counter. “Yeah, please. One vanilla latte.”

As you start preparing her drink, you decide to strike up a conversation like you’ve done before. “Rough day?”

She chuckles softly, leaning her elbows on the counter. “You have no idea. It's been non-stop meetings and rehearsals. I just needed a break.”

You hand her the drink, watching her fingers brush against yours as she takes the cup. The small contact makes your heart skip a beat, but you quickly focus back on the conversation. “Well, I’m glad you came here to take that break. The world can wait a little, right?”

She looks up at you through her lashes, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, I guess so. This place has kind of become my escape.”

Her words stir something in you. An idol like her, with the entire world watching her every move, finding a sense of peace in your small café? It’s flattering. You lean against the counter, trying to play it cool, but the warmth in your chest is undeniable.

“You’re welcome here anytime, you know that,” you say, your voice dropping slightly. It’s an invitation you’ve given before, but somehow it feels more meaningful now.

Wonyoung sips her latte, the steam rising between you two as she lets out a content sigh. “Thanks. That really means a lot.”

There’s a comfortable silence for a moment, the two of you just enjoying each other’s company. But then, as you’re about to ask her something, a group of fans passing by outside catches your eye. They don’t seem to have noticed her yet, but you know it’s only a matter of time. Wonyoung must sense your unease because she follows your gaze and tenses slightly.

“Do you need to go?” you ask, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice.

She hesitates, glancing toward the door. “I probably should…”

You don’t want her to leave. Not yet. Not when it feels like you’re finally getting closer. Before you can stop yourself, you blurt out, “Would you maybe want to hang out sometime? Outside of here, I mean.”

Her eyes widen slightly, surprised by your sudden boldness. You can feel your palms getting sweaty, and you mentally curse yourself for being too forward. But then, to your surprise, she smiles—a real, genuine smile that lights up her face.

“Are you asking me out?” she teases, her tone light but her gaze intense.

You swallow hard, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. “Uh, yeah. I guess I am.”

She looks down at her drink, her fingers tracing the rim of the cup. For a moment, you think she’s going to turn you down, but then she looks up again, her smile still there.

“I’d like that,” she says softly, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink. “But… we’d have to keep it a secret. My company has strict rules about… well, you know.”

You nod, understanding immediately. Dating an idol? You’ve heard the horror stories of how fans react. But the thrill of the secrecy only adds to your excitement. “I can keep a secret if you can.”

She giggles, the sound like music to your ears. “I guess we’ll see.”

As she stands to leave, you can’t help but feel a rush of adrenaline. You just asked out Jang Wonyoung—and she said yes.

“When should we—” you begin, but she interrupts with a sly smile.

“I’ll text you. We’ll figure it out.”

She waves goodbye, leaving you standing behind the counter, your heart pounding in your chest. You watch her disappear down the street, the bell on the door chiming softly as it swings shut behind her.

For the first time in a long time, you feel like something big is about to happen. Something that could change everything.

The days that followed felt like a blur of anticipation. Every time your phone buzzed, your heart would leap, hoping it was her. And then, one night, just as you were closing up the café, her name flashed across your screen.

“Tomorrow. 8 PM. I know a quiet place.”

You read the text over and over, a smile creeping across your face. It was happening. You were actually going on a date with Wonyoung, and no one else knew.

The next day, you close the café a little earlier than usual, making sure everything is perfect before you head out. The nerves hit you the moment you step outside. What would it be like? What would you talk about? But there’s also an excitement bubbling beneath the surface—a thrill you haven’t felt in years.

When you arrive at the spot she mentioned, you’re surprised to find it’s a small, dimly lit park, tucked away from the busy streets. It’s quiet, serene, and the perfect place for two people who didn’t want to be seen.

Wonyoung is already there, sitting on a bench, her face partially hidden by the hood of her coat. But when she looks up and sees you, her face breaks into a smile.

“You came,” she says softly, standing to greet you.

“Of course,” you reply, your voice a little shaky. You try to play it cool, but your heart is racing.

You sit beside her on the bench, the cool evening air wrapping around the two of you. For a moment, neither of you says anything, just enjoying the rare moment of privacy.

“So,” she begins, breaking the silence. “You really weren’t scared to ask me out? Most people wouldn’t dare.”

You chuckle nervously. “Well, I guess I’m not like most people.”

She grins, her eyes sparkling. “No, you’re not. That’s why I said yes.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you can’t help but feel drawn to her in a way that’s both intoxicating and terrifying. The fact that you’re sitting here, in the dark, in secret, makes everything feel a little more dangerous. But you like it. You like her.

As the conversation flows, it becomes clear that there’s more to Wonyoung than what the world sees. She tells you about the pressures of being an idol, the constant scrutiny, the expectations that weigh on her shoulders. You listen intently, feeling protective over her in a way you hadn’t expected.

“You must get lonely,” you say, your voice soft.

She nods, looking down at her hands. “I do. Sometimes it feels like I’m living two lives—one for the public and one for myself. But the lines get blurred, and I don’t know which one is real anymore.”

You reach out, gently placing your hand over hers. “This is real,” you say firmly. “Whatever this is between us—it’s real.”

She looks up at you, her eyes wide and vulnerable. For a moment, you think she’s going to pull away, but then she squeezes your hand, her touch sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

“I hope so,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

The warmth of your bond with Wonyoung had grown over the years, weaving itself into every corner of your life. From stolen evenings in the quiet corners of the city to shared laughter over cups of coffee in the dim glow of your café, your relationship had become something sacred. She trusted you, and you loved her with every fiber of your being.

But things started to shift when Wonyoung sat across from you one evening, her face pale and serious.

“I have something to tell you,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.

You set down your cup, leaning forward. “What’s wrong?”

She hesitated, her fingers nervously tracing the rim of her mug. “It’s… good news, really. But…” Her words faltered, and the worry in her eyes twisted your gut.

“Wonyoung, just tell me,” you urged gently.

“I’m debuting,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and suffocating. You stared at her, trying to process what she’d just said. Wonyoung had always talked about her dreams of becoming a star, of standing on the biggest stages and sharing her talent with the world. You should have been happy for her, proud even. But all you could feel was the growing pit in your stomach.

“That’s… amazing,” you said, forcing a smile.

She smiled back, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “It is. It’s everything I’ve worked for. But… you know what this means, right?”

Your heart sank. “What are you saying?”

She looked down, her hands gripping her mug tightly. “The company’s rules are even stricter now. I’ll be busier than ever. Training, schedules, promotions… I won’t have time for…” Her voice cracked, and she bit her lip, trying to hold back her emotions.

“For us,” you finished for her, your voice hollow.

She nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m so sorry. This isn’t what I want, but I don’t have a choice. If they find out about us, it could ruin everything—for both of us.”

You sat back, the weight of her words pressing down on your chest. This was it. The moment you’d feared since the day you started dating her. You knew the risks of being with an idol, but you’d always hoped you could make it work. Now, it felt like that hope was slipping away.

“I understand,” you said quietly, your throat tight. “Your dream has always come first. I don’t want to hold you back.”

She reached across the table, taking your hand in hers. “You’ve never held me back. You’ve been my anchor, my safe place. I don’t want to lose that.”

“You won’t,” you promised, squeezing her hand. “Even if we can’t be together the way we want, I’ll always be here for you. No matter what.”

Her tears spilled over, and you pulled her into your arms, holding her tightly as she cried. You wanted to believe your own words, but deep down, you knew this was the beginning of the end.

The days that followed were the hardest of your life. Wonyoung’s visits became less frequent, her texts and calls more sporadic. You understood why, but that didn’t make it any easier. You poured yourself into your work, trying to distract yourself from the emptiness she left behind.

Then, one day, the messages stopped altogether.

At first, you told yourself she was just busy. Her debut was approaching, after all. But as weeks turned into months, the silence became deafening. You stared at your phone every night, hoping for a message, a call—anything. But nothing came.

You threw yourself into your café, hoping the familiar routine would keep you grounded. But even there, reminders of her were everywhere. The table by the window where she always sat, the scent of vanilla lattes that lingered in the air—it all made your heart ache.

Your only solace was watching her from afar. You followed her career, watching every performance, every interview, every commercial. She was incredible, just as you always knew she would be. But the bright lights and the adoring fans only reminded you of how far away she was now.

Still, you held onto hope. You told yourself that one day, when the world wasn’t watching so closely, she’d come back to you.

Years passed, and your life settled into a routine. The café grew busier, and you built a reputation for being the cozy little spot that people loved. But no matter how much time passed, Wonyoung was always in the back of your mind.

Every time the bell above the door jingled, your heart leapt, hoping it was her. Every time you saw someone with long, dark hair or heard a soft laugh, you thought of her.

One evening, after closing up, you sat alone in the café, a cup of coffee growing cold in your hands. The dim light from the streetlamps outside cast long shadows across the walls, and the quietness of the night only amplified the loneliness in your heart.

You pulled out your phone, scrolling through old messages from Wonyoung. You hadn’t deleted them, even though it hurt to read them. They were all you had left of her.

“I miss you,” you whispered into the empty room, your voice breaking.

You didn’t know if she’d ever come back. You didn’t know if she even thought about you anymore. But you couldn’t let go. She was your first love, and a part of you would always belong to her.

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, you continued to wait. You didn’t know what the future held, but you knew one thing for sure: if Wonyoung ever walked through that door again, you’d welcome her with open arms.

For now, all you could do was hope. Hope that somewhere, in the midst of her glittering, chaotic life, she still remembered the little café where it all began.

The bell above the café door jingled softly as another customer walked in, but your mind was elsewhere. The days had blended into a monotonous cycle—serving coffee, cleaning tables, and quietly hoping. Hoping that one day, Wonyoung would return, her familiar presence lighting up the small café once more.

You told yourself every day that it was foolish. That she had likely moved on, swept away by the tidal wave of her career. But a small part of you clung to the memories, refusing to let go.

Then, one fateful evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and painted the sky in hues of orange and pink, you saw her.

It was a glimpse at first—a flash of her unmistakable silhouette passing by the large window of your café. Your heart leaped, the familiar rush of emotions flooding your chest. Without thinking, you dropped the cloth in your hand and hurried to the door, your pulse racing.

“Wonyoung!” you called out, stepping onto the quiet street.

She didn’t turn around.

You froze, your voice caught in your throat as your eyes locked onto her. She was walking down the street, her delicate figure wrapped in a soft beige coat. But she wasn’t alone.

There was a man beside her, tall and well-dressed, with an air of casual confidence. Wonyoung clung to his arm, her smile bright and carefree. The sight hit you like a punch to the gut.

You stood there, rooted to the spot, watching as she tugged his arm playfully, her laughter floating through the crisp evening air. It was a sound you knew all too well, one that used to be yours. And that smile—the same radiant smile she’d given you on your first date—was now meant for someone else.

Your heart clenched painfully, your mind racing with a thousand thoughts. Was it just a colleague? A friend? Or… something more?

The rational part of you tried to dismiss it. She’s an idol. She must have many colleagues, right? But deep down, a gnawing doubt began to take hold, and with it came a wave of desperation.

That night, you couldn’t sleep. The image of Wonyoung with that man replayed in your mind like a cruel, endless loop. You tried to push it aside, to reason with yourself, but the knot in your chest refused to loosen.

You kept telling yourself that it didn’t mean anything. That there had to be an explanation. But the doubt lingered, growing stronger with each passing day.

“She’ll come back,” you whispered to yourself as you cleaned the counter the next morning. “She’ll explain everything.”

But she didn’t.

Days turned into weeks, and Wonyoung never walked through your door. You scrolled through her social media, searching for clues, but found nothing. Her life seemed to be as glamorous and untouchable as ever. Meanwhile, you felt yourself spiraling.

Your thoughts became consumed with her. You replayed every moment, every smile, every touch. You clung to the memories like a lifeline, even as they began to feel like a weight pulling you under.

Every night, you prayed silently, your hands clutching your phone as you stared at her name. You prayed that she’d text, that she’d call, that she’d walk through the door with that familiar shy smile.

But she never did.

One evening, as you closed up the café, you found yourself back at the place where you’d seen her with the man. You didn’t even know why you were there, only that you couldn’t stop yourself.

You sat on a bench nearby, staring at the street as if willing her to appear. The desperation in your chest had grown into a hollow ache, one that refused to go away.

“She wouldn’t do this to me,” you muttered under your breath, your hands gripping your knees. “She wouldn’t cheat on me.”

But the memory of her smile—the one she gave that man—gnawed at your resolve.

Days turned into weeks, and still, there was no sign of her. Your friends began to notice the change in you. They asked if you were okay, if something was wrong. But you brushed them off, retreating further into yourself.

Your café became your only refuge, the one place where you could pretend everything was still normal. But even there, the memories of her lingered like ghosts.

Every time the bell above the door jingled, you looked up, hoping it was her. Every time someone ordered a vanilla latte, your chest tightened with longing.

But Wonyoung never came.

The toxic cycle began to take its toll. You stopped sleeping, your nights spent staring at your phone, waiting for a message that never came. You stopped eating, your appetite replaced by a gnawing emptiness that nothing could fill.

Your friends tried to pull you out of it, but their words fell on deaf ears. How could they understand? They didn’t know what it was like to love someone like Wonyoung. To love her so deeply that it consumed you.

“She’ll come back,” you told yourself again and again, your voice growing weaker each time. “She has to.”

But deep down, a part of you knew the truth. You’d seen it with your own eyes. Wonyoung had moved on. She had someone else now.

And yet, you couldn’t let go.

You kept praying, day after day, for her to come back. You told yourself that if you just held on a little longer, she’d walk through the door and everything would be okay again.

But as the weeks turned into months, the hope that had once sustained you began to wither away.

You were losing yourself in the waiting, in the longing, in the toxic spiral of loving someone who no longer cared.

And still, you couldn’t stop. Because as much as it hurt, the thought of letting go hurt even more.

The rain came down in heavy sheets, drumming against the windows of the café as the sky wept its sorrow. You stood behind the counter, absentmindedly drying a mug as you stared out into the gray, dismal street. The café was quiet tonight, save for the occasional rattle of thunder in the distance.

Then, through the streaks of rain on the glass, you saw her.

Your breath caught in your throat as Wonyoung’s familiar figure emerged from the downpour, standing just outside the café. Her hair clung to her face, wet from the rain, and her shoulders trembled as she hugged herself tightly. She looked… broken.

You hesitated for a moment, your mind racing. This was the moment you’d prayed for countless nights. Yet now that it was here, something inside you felt different.

With a deep breath, you walked to the door and gently pushed it open.

The bell jingled softly, but Wonyoung didn’t move. She stood in the rain, tears streaming down her face, mingling with the raindrops.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out, her voice trembling.

You stood there, watching her cry, her words cutting through the sound of the rain. In the past, you would have rushed to her, held her close, and whispered soothing words until her tears stopped. But tonight, something in you had changed.

You stepped aside, motioning for her to come in. “You’ll catch a cold out there,” you said quietly, your tone calm but distant.

She looked up at you, her eyes red and swollen, and hesitated for a moment before stepping inside.

Wonyoung sat at her usual spot by the window, her hands wrapped around a steaming cup of tea you’d prepared without a word. The warm light of the café cast soft shadows across her face, accentuating the sadness in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, her voice barely above a whisper. “For everything.”

You sat across from her, your expression unreadable. “What exactly are you sorry for, Wonyoung?”

She flinched at the coldness in your tone, her fingers tightening around the cup. “For… disappearing. For not calling. For—” Her voice cracked, and tears welled up in her eyes again. “For hurting you.”

Your heart clenched at her words, but you forced yourself to remain composed. You couldn’t fall into the same cycle again. Not this time.

“Why are you here, Wonyoung?” you asked, your voice firm but not unkind.

She looked up at you, her eyes searching your face for some sign of warmth, of forgiveness. “I missed you,” she said softly.

You leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms. “Missed me?” you echoed, your voice tinged with skepticism. “Or are you just bored?”

Her eyes widened in shock, and for a moment, she was speechless. “How could you say that?”

“Because, Wonyoung,” you said, your voice steady, “you walked away. You left me here, waiting for you, while you moved on with your life. And now, after all this time, you show up out of nowhere, crying and saying you’re sorry. What am I supposed to think?”

She stared at you, her lip trembling. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I thought… I thought you’d understand.”

“Understand what?” you asked, leaning forward. “That I wasn’t worth even a text? That you could just show up whenever it suited you and expect me to be here, waiting with open arms?”

Her tears spilled over, and she buried her face in her hands. “I didn’t know what to do,” she sobbed. “I was scared. Scared of losing everything.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I understand fear, Wonyoung. But you don’t get to use that as an excuse to treat me like I don’t matter.”

Her sobs quieted, and she looked up at you, her eyes filled with a mix of guilt and confusion. “You’ve never talked to me like this before,” she said softly.

“Maybe I should have,” you replied. “Maybe if I’d been more honest with you from the start, we wouldn’t be here now.”

The silence between you was heavy, broken only by the sound of rain tapping against the windows. For the first time, Wonyoung seemed at a loss for words.

“You’ve always been there for me,” she said finally, her voice trembling. “Even when I didn’t deserve it. I don’t want to lose you.”

You sighed, leaning forward and resting your elbows on the table. “Wonyoung, this isn’t about what you want. It’s about what’s fair—for both of us. I’ve spent years waiting for you, hoping for something that might never happen. And it’s taken me this long to realize that I deserve more than that.”

Her eyes filled with fresh tears, and she reached across the table, her hand trembling. “Please… don’t give up on me.”

You hesitated, staring at her outstretched hand. Every part of you wanted to take it, to pull her into your arms and pretend everything was okay. But you knew that would only lead to more pain.

“I’m not giving up on you,” you said quietly. “But I can’t keep doing this. If you want me in your life, you need to show me that I matter. Not just when it’s convenient, but always.”

Her hand faltered, and she pulled it back, clutching it to her chest. “I don’t know if I can do that,” she admitted, her voice barely audible.

You nodded, your heart breaking all over again. “Then maybe it’s time we stop pretending this can work.”

She stared at you, her face a mixture of shock and devastation. “Are you saying it’s over?”

You took a deep breath, the words catching in your throat. “I’m saying that I can’t keep holding onto something that’s tearing me apart.”

Her tears fell freely now, but she didn’t argue. She simply nodded, her shoulders shaking as she cried.

The rain continued to fall outside as you sat there, the weight of your decision settling over you like a heavy blanket. For the first time in years, you felt a strange sense of clarity.

This wasn’t the ending you’d hoped for, but maybe it was the one you needed.

The days that followed Wonyoung’s tearful return were bittersweet. She seemed genuinely sorry, her apologies heartfelt and tear-streaked. For a while, it felt like things might finally be different. She softened around you, her laughter returning, her gentle touches and warm smiles reminding you of the Wonyoung you had first fallen for.

But as time passed, the cracks began to show again.

It started small—missed calls, vague excuses about her schedule, and moments where she seemed distracted even when she was with you. You told yourself it was fine. That she was busy. That you could be patient.

But then came the nights when she wouldn’t respond to your texts at all. The whispers online about her being spotted with someone else. The photos of her arm linked with another man’s, her smile radiant and carefree, just like it had been the first time you saw her with someone else.

You confronted her one evening when she finally came back to the café, her expression tense but defensive.

“Who is he, Wonyoung?” you asked, your voice quiet but trembling with restrained emotion.

She froze, her eyes wide, then quickly looked away. “It’s not what you think,” she said, her tone evasive.

“Then tell me what it is,” you pressed, your patience wearing thin. “Because this keeps happening, Wonyoung. You disappear, you’re seen with other guys, and then you come back here, apologizing like it’ll make everything okay.”

Her eyes filled with tears, and she reached out to you. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she whispered. “You have to believe me.”

You pulled back, avoiding her touch. “That’s what you always say. But you keep doing it.”

She began to cry, her hands trembling. “I love you. I just… I don’t know how to handle everything. The pressure, the expectations. You’re the only thing that feels real, but sometimes it’s too much.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. You wanted to believe her. You wanted to hold onto the idea that she loved you, even if her actions said otherwise.

But the truth was undeniable. This wasn’t love. It was something toxic, something that was slowly destroying you both.

The cycle continued. Wonyoung would vanish for days, sometimes weeks, only to return with teary apologies and promises to do better. And every time, you forgave her.

You hated yourself for it. Hated how weak you felt, how easily you crumbled under the weight of her tears and her soft words. But no matter how much it hurt, you couldn’t let her go.

Until one night, when everything came crashing down.

You’d seen her again, smiling and laughing with someone else. The sight was like a knife twisting in your chest, and for the first time, something inside you snapped.

You went home that night and stared at your phone, the screen glowing with her name. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, your thoughts a chaotic whirlwind of anger, sadness, and despair.

Finally, you began to type.

“Wonyoung, I can’t do this anymore. You’ve hurt me too many times, and I can’t keep pretending that this is okay. I love you, but I need to love myself more. Goodbye.”

Your thumb hovered over the send button, your chest tightening. You knew this was the right thing to do, but it felt like tearing a piece of your soul away.

With a deep breath, you pressed send.

The message delivered instantly, the small checkmark mocking you as you stared at it. And then, you turned off your phone, the weight of your decision crashing down on you.

The days that followed were a blur of pain and emptiness. You tried to focus on the café, on the simple routines that had once brought you comfort. But everything reminded you of her—the scent of vanilla lattes, the sound of the bell above the door, the corner seat where she used to sit.

And then, one evening, your phone buzzed.

You hesitated, your heart racing as you stared at the screen. It was her.

“I’m sorry. Please don’t leave me.”

You closed your eyes, the familiar ache in your chest returning. You knew you shouldn’t reply. You knew this was just another loop, another step in the endless cycle of pain and forgiveness.

But even as you told yourself to ignore it, your fingers betrayed you, typing a response before you could stop them.

“I’m here.”

You hated yourself for it. Hated how easily she pulled you back in, how much power she had over you. But deep down, you knew the truth.

You and Wonyoung were toxic. You hurt each other, over and over, and yet you couldn’t let go.

Because no matter how much it hurt, no matter how broken it made you feel, you still loved her.

And some part of you always would.

#kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader #beautiful #update #toxic #toxic relationship #wonyoung ive #ive wonyoung #jang wonyoung #wonyoung x reader #wonyoung x male reader #ive x reader #ive x male reader #ive moodboard #ive icons #wonyoung

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drewsbuzzcut · 18 days ago

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Inside Y/n Barzal’s Coach Hobo Bag | In The Bag | Vogue

Mat Barzal x model!fem!reader

A visceral in doses fic

Warnings: small mention of sex and I think that’s all…

Takes Place: Oct 2027 (fun fact: model is pregnant here, with AJ and she doesn’t even know it yet)

“Hey Vogue, I’m Y/n Barzal and this is “What’s In My Bag”,” you say straight to the camera with your famous, sparkling smile.

“This is my capacious bag,” you say with a giggle, bringing your purse onto your lap.

“She is a Coach purse. Specifically a brown leather, Madison Maggie Hobo,” you continue as you touch the random signs of wear and tear on your favorite accessory.

“Someone once asked me why my everyday bag is so big, and I just told them it’s because I’m a mother and wife. My purse literally holds my entire life. Anyways! First up are my lip products. My lip balm is from my best friend’s makeup line. It’s amazing. Next is my lip combo: Mac lip liner in cool spice and Mac lipstick in fleshpot. It’s my go-to and what I’m wearing at the moment.”

You swipe some of the lipstick on your lips, capping the tube and smacking your lips dramatically.

Digging in your purse, blindly, you pull out the next item. “A hockey puck! This is from yesterday’s Islanders game. My husband tossed it to me.“ You hold the puck close to your heart, feeling gooey about the little tradition. “He alternates giving pucks to my son and me. Oh and speaking of yesterday’s game, my bag usually has so many snacks, but Nolan and I ate them all last night,” you explain with a smirk.

“Does Mat always give pucks to you guys?” Someone behind the scenes asks.

“Every single home game. He never misses one unless he’s injured, or not playing for some reason,” you state.

“This is very special to me. It’s my good luck charm. After my husband and I moved in together, I painted the key I had for his apartment. There are different things to symbolize our relationship and it was a very fun, little project,” you sigh softly, holding the painted key out to the camera.

“Why is it your lucky charm?”

“It’s silly, but it seems like after he gave me this key to his apartment, everything fell into place. Our relationship blossomed so beautifully and our careers became even more successful than they were,” you say with a lovestruck smile.

“My digital camera,” you squeal after pulling it out.

“This is my prized possession, because it has so many pictures that I need to print. I have pictures from our honeymoon and our yearly trip to Italy.”

You click through the different images, settling on the one of Mat and Nolan sunbathing.

“This was a month or so ago in Italy. Nolan was in the pool the whole morning, so he wanted to rest on his daddy’s chest for the longest time,” you comment on the picture, turning the small camera to the one recording you.

Mat is wearing the softest smile and Nolan is sprawled out like a starfish on his dad’s chest.

“This one is of mom and dad in bed,” you stop to hold back a giggle. Your cheeks starts to heat up, but you do your best to contain it by biting on your lip.

Playfully rolling your eyes, you say, “we weren’t doing anything scandalous.” A lie. Mat had just finished feasting on you and wanted to take a picture of the both of you in post-coital bliss.

“We’re just cuddling and this picture is really cute. I love you, Mat,” you confessed and blow a kiss, knowing that your husband will be watching the video once it’s posted.

“Oh this is an important one! An extra pair of panties. You just never know when you might need them and I always like to be prepared,” you hum as you showcase a cotton thong.

“For those of you that are nosy, there’s a 13 on them. It’s my husband’s jersey number and my lucky number.” You slyly wink at the camera and shove them back inside the bag.

“This one is also important. My journal and pen. Sometimes inspiration strikes and I much rather write it physically than type it on my phone. You also never know when you might need a pen,” you claim, rapidly flipping through the filled in pages.

As you’re pulling out your wallet next, a condom accidentally comes with it. It’s caught between your fingers and a part of the wallet’s exterior.

“Oh my god!” You shout once you realize what else is in your hand.

“I am so sorry. Oh my god.” The words are muffled as you slap a hand over your face.

“This is so embarrassing. Is this even allowed? I’m so sorry,” you ramble with the condom clutched tightly in your hand.

“It’s fine. We’re all adults here,” one of the producers confirms.

“This is a condom. An old one that should actually be in the trash, because I’m not sure how long it’s been in my purse. Please protect yourself when having sex, and with proper protection that isn’t old,” you chuckle, cheeks dark red and eyes squeezed shut.

“You’re getting the uncensored version today,” you breathe out, fanning yourself off from the flames of embarrassment.

“Next up are some jewelry pieces that are extremely important to me. Right now they’re in these little cloth bags, because whenever I have a photo shoot I can’t have them on. I just had a shoot before this, so now is actually the perfect time to put them back on,” you mutter, pulling open the little sacks.

“My wedding rings. I can look at them all day,” you swoon.

“We got married some months ago and I’m just so in love. Especially because Barzy designed my rings himself. I love him so much.”

“This is my locket, also from my husband. On the inside is a picture of us kissing and 13 is engraved as you can see,” you show the locket before clasping it around your neck.

“Yes, another 13! There’s nothing wrong with me representing my man,” you point at the camera in a playful chastise.

“These are diapers and baby wipes,” you point out the obvious.

“And before anyone asks, yes, I do carry a diaper bag. These diapers and wipes are for emergencies because I like to be prepared,” you added with an assertive nod.

“And lastly,” you huff, flipping your hair and wiping away a nonexistent tear.

“We have Sparky the dragon. This is Nolan’s favorite thing ever. We have them all over the house and in all the cars. He cannot be without his favorite toy for more than 30 minutes, but as long as it isn’t a tablet or phone, it’s fine with me.”

“That’s everything I carry with me everywhere, except my car keys! Damn, sorry. I knew I was missing something. Anywho… thank you for watching and I’ll see you next time,” you say your goodbyes and blow a kiss to the camera.

a/n: This was very fun to write and I hope y’all enjoy it as much as I do🫶

#visceral in doses #mat barzal #mat barzal fanfiction #mat barzal blurb #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fic #mat barzal x reader #nhl imagines #new york islanders

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dfortrafalgar · 12 days ago

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Shampoo

Sometimes, Law neglects his personal hygiene and needs some external reminders.

Warnings: None, other than a musty pirate captain's sweaty hat

A/N: in my google drive i had called this fic "Sebaceous Gland Lipids" but realized i should probably title it something less jarring on here. It's also worth it to note that this was heavily inspired by a shitpost tiktok i saw early last year of which i haven't been able to find since then sob

You loved Law with every fiber of your being, you really did.

But you could not deny that his personal hygiene tended to lack, especially in times of high stress. Typically he would just mask any lingering odor with some extra sprays of a mild cologne or an additional application of antiperspirant, but it would always get to a point where you would practically beg him for a good shower. And if you didn’t, one of his other crew members certainly would.

The worst victim of his stress-induced musk, however, was his thick mop of black hair that he kept covered with his plush white cap all hours of the day.

Late one evening, deep below the surface of the ocean, Law sat at the Polar Tang’s communal dining table, sipping a cup of lukewarm black coffee and flipping through the recent issue of the World Government’s newspaper, discarding the fresh pile of wanted posters that didn’t concern him. Down the table from him, Shachi, Penguin, and Bepo were intensely focused in a game of rummy. Other members of the Heart Pirates milled about the ship, either preparing to tuck in for the night, fulfilling evening duties pertaining to the submarine’s upkeep, or simply lounging as their higher-ups currently did.

Clad in flannel pajamas, you rounded the corner into the galley and smiled upon seeing your beloved captain and first mates in a state of stress-free relaxation. Law heard you enter and immediately flashed a small smile in your direction, setting his paper down.

“Hey, baby,” he said in a coarse, tired voice.

You smiled even wider, excited whenever he shoved aside his pride to address you with such pet names around his friends and crew. “Hi, Law, hi Bepo and Shachi and Penguin,” you addressed the other three sitting at the end of the table. Penguin simply nodded his head, lips held in a firm pout as he debated his hand compared to the cards already placed down on the table.

You took the open seat next to Law, reaching across him to grab the pile of wanted posters to flip through them. Most were pirates you had never heard of, small-time rookies from the Grand Line or having just entered the New World. Some were much more local, a new, substantial bounty from the West Blue being included in the stack.

“You always love looking through the posters every week,” Law simply stated through the rim of his coffee cup.

Flicking through the parchment you nodded in affirmation. “I like seeing if anyone I know shows up!”

“She wants to see when she’ll get her own wanted poster,” elaborated Shachi, turning his attention away from their game.

You scoffed, but Law saw right through your futile attempt at deflection and uttered a hardy chuckle. “You need to get yourself involved in more fights with the Marines for that to happen.”

You hunched your shoulders in defeat. With a sudden switch to your sullen mood, you cocked a smirk and reached your hand upward, aiming towards the brim of Law’s fluffy white speckled hat.

“Maybe I can just trick the Marines with this,” you boasted, pulling the cap off of your boyfriend’s head freeing his unkempt black hair. You were the only one, aside from Bepo, he allowed to touch his beloved hat. He found you even more adorable when you wore it, but he’d never reveal that information toward you.

You held the brim in your hand and raised the object over your head to plop it on, but before it could make contact with your hair, you paused. An offending odor intruded your nostrils. You brought the underside of the hat towards your nose, taking an apprehensive sniff. A foul, musky scent, somewhat salty and definitely humid, singed the fine hairs in your nose. You yanked the hat away from your face with a groan.

“Oh my god, Law!” you shouted, bewildered.

“What?” he asked plainly, completely confused at your sudden reaction.

The three men at the end of the table had now completely forgotten their card game and instead turned their full attention on the two of you.

“Your hat smells disgusting, when’s the last time you even washed it?”

Law drummed his fingers on the surface of the metal table. “Uhm… probably a year or so ago?”

Down the table, Penguin released a harsh snort from his own nose.

“How often are you supposed to wash hats? I didn’t even think they needed to be washed.” Law felt himself grow slightly annoyed with the confrontation. He grabbed his hat back from you and attempted to place it back on his head, but your hand latched onto his wrist while your other flew toward his hair.

Your fingers threaded through his bangs and along his scalp. You recoiled your appendage after only a few fleeting seconds, eyes wide and aghast. “Your hair is so greasy, Law,” you said under your breath. You knew you should probably have this conversation away from the prying ears of Law’s three best friends, but it couldn’t be helped at this point.

“So? Hair sebum is natural,” he responded, finally being able to replace his hat.

“Yeah, but not that much,” you uttered back. “You should wash your hair at least once a week to keep up on it.”

Law’s jaw clenched. “I’m not stupid,” he said back, an annoyed venom on his tongue.

“Never said you are, but you really should wash your hair.” You stood from your seat, grabbing the stack of wanted posters to bring with you to review in bed. “Goodnight, guys, see you in the morning!”

The three stooges waved you a goodnight while Law simply scowled down at his newspaper, not reading any of the words.

“Has it really been that long since you’ve washed your hair?” Shachi asked. “Even I'm not that bad.”

“Oh, stuff it.” Law folded up the newsprint and left it on the table, trudging out of the galley with a grunt.

An hour or so had passed, and you were curled up on the plush cot you shared with Law, warm and cozy under the blankets. You kept your eyes closed when you heard the door to the room open and then close slowly so as to not make much noise. You felt the bed dip downward with the force of Law laying down. He shuffled toward you, his chest against your back, wrapping his arms around your body and holding you tightly against him without a single word. Cold, damp hairs tickled your neck, and a faint smell of lavender and honey filled your senses. You smiled in the dark.

He used your shampoo.

#x reader #reader insert #fem reader #one piece x reader #op x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #law oneshot

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razrbladekiss · 4 months ago

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LOVE BITES | Joel Miller

SUMMARY: its been two years since joel broke your heart, and now you’re thrust into the most awkward situation imaginable. no thanks to tommy, of course.

PAIRING: no outbreak!joel x afab!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.9k, literally pulled this outta my ass in an hour.

WARNINGS: angst. joel is a bit of a jerk and so is tommy but reader can hold her own. 🤭 tiny bit of fluff. plenty of dialogue to scratch the itch inside of my little pea brain!

“What can I getcha?” You call over the music, leaning against tacky wood as you greet yet another inebriated middle aged man. Your tits shine beneath dim light—highlighted with perspiration, liquor and the purple glitter that Cassie thinks’ll get you more tips—and you smile. “Bud Light?”

“Please, doll.”

Your eyes roll. The pet names are one of the worst parts about working at Fuel, but you suppose it’ll never subside. It’s sleazy, here. The place teems with parasitic men—old, sweaty metalheads that’ll never touch a bar of soap even if you bribe them—but they pay your bills with the gratuity they slip into your pocket, so you find it in yourself to tolerate it.

Plus, every so often an attractive stranger comes in and fills your evening with something more interesting than a story that usually starts with “were you even born when this song came out?”

It’s not clear why you’re targeted behind the bar—you’re not the youngest and certainly not the chirpiest—but you surmise that these figments of the male species must have some sort of affinity for being bitched at. Because as soon as someone says something even slightly misogynistic, you’re coming down on them like a wall of fucking bricks.

You’re outspoken. Kind of brash. But it makes for great conversation with some hot guys every so often.

Fuck this shit.

Feigning that internal indignation—and yearning for some kind of drama—you resume your work.

“There ‘ya go, Gil.” You pop off the cap, handing him the bottle and offer a smile. He takes it with a nod, bumbling away from the bar and you turn away to dry some glasses.

It’s busy, but not Saturday night busy. It’s wall-to-wall, but it doesn’t seem as tightly-packed as usual. You’re not rushed off your feet, you’re not being overrun with strange and usual orders from men whose eyes are needing to be held open with toothpicks, or the odd underage girl that managed to slip past Dean while he was checking ID’s.

Something is off.

And it isn’t for the fact that the same three Motörhead songs are playing on a fucking loop, either. Something is looming.

Something a little bit more tense.

“Hey.” Cassie tips her head in a nod toward the crowd while pulling the beer tap. “Look who just walked in.”

You squint your eyes. It’s a struggle to heed any new faces, for the light is so dim and room full of cigarette smoke, but you scan nonetheless.

“I can’t see.” You tell her, taking a few glasses from atop the bar to wash. “Is it that hot guy you always flirt with?”

Her cheeks turn thirteen shades of crimson. She shakes her head.

“No. He’s in Cancun with his wife.”

“Oh.” You say wryly. “So, he’s not interested in you then?”

She blinks in your direction. “We had sex on Thursday.”

Your jaw hits the floor. “Oh.” You repeat your earlier tone. “So, you’re his side piece?”

“Yes. And happily so.” Cassie slips the beer to her patron, and turns to you with an elbow propped against the sticky wood. “But enough about Luke…Can’t you see him? He’s got the denim jacket on—hair a little slicked back.”

Confused, your gaze drifts into the sea of drunks. You’re drawing a blank.

“Oh my GOD.” She grabs a hold of your shoulders, and turns you toward nine o’clock. “Look!”

You follow her line of sight, still blindly searching. Until he comes toward the bar, and you go through all seven stages of fucking grief as he ambles toward you.

He’s got a face like thunder. Eyes dark, nostrils flared.

“Holy shit.”

“Indeed.” The unyielding grip set against your shoulders is released, though Cassie stays close by. For back-up—and slightly inquisitive—purposes.

Tommy. Fucking. Miller.

You haven’t seen him since the night that Joel broke your heart, and you’d be a fool to surmise that the underlying hostility has died off in the two years that your eyes last met. He was a prick to you, that night.

But you’re not scared of him. Never have been. He’s a pussycat.

Aside from that night, the most confrontation between the two of you came on a very warm summers evening, when Tommy was barbecuing and you told him that his burgers needed a little longer when he tried serving them. He pitched a fit, threw the spatula in the air, and left Joel to take over.

He never could take criticism.

“Get out.” You tell him, hand firmly gripped against the Guinness tap. “I mean it, Miller. Get out.”

He ignores you, taking a seat at the bar and your jaw rolls.

“Fine.” You fake a smile, wanting nothing more than to throw a whiskey sour in his face. “What d’ya want, Tommy? Jack ‘n coke? Bud? A slap—“

“I dunno. But now that I’ve seen you, I want you to call my brother.”

Cassie takes a step back when you nudge her, needing to go through this alone.

“Phone works both ways.” Blunt, you say. You pour him whiskey—neat—despite him not elucidating exactly what he wants. “He’s a jackass, Tommy. I ain’t got time for jackasses no more.”

He rubs his lips together after taking a pull, putting firmly the glass against the bar.

“You left him—“

“Wrong. He broke up with me.”

“You left him.” Tommy repeats himself. He’s getting agitated, now. “He didn’t really want you to go. He didn’t mean to say all that he said—“

You scoff, throwing a dish rag over your shoulder.

“Well, he said it. He kicked me out.” You start, ready to reel off all the bad things Joel did to you. “He blocked my number, told everyone that I left ‘cus I was never happy with anything—“

“He loved you, and you were just a spiteful bitch.” Tommy defends, slightly more brash than what he once was.

“Wow. You’ve grown a pair of balls since I last saw you.”

“Oh, fuck it off with the mean shit.” He growls, staring pointedly at you. “You’re not like this, so stop pretending.”

You put a few glasses away beneath the bar, and stick clean scoops into the ice cube tray.

“I was crazy about him, he didn’t need to give me anything more than what he already did, Tommy.” With a small voice, you tell him. “We all know that.”

Tommy runs a hand over the back of his neck. But you’re not willing to argue the case any further—not with a man who downs his liquor in one single shot.

“So, is this why you’re here, huh? To spend the entire night chewin’ me out? ‘Cus if you are, then you can fuck off. I get enough shit from the assholes that come here every night.”

He shakes his head. “Wasn’t on my agenda. Didn’t know that ‘ya worked here, so I guess its been a lovely experience for the two ‘a us, ‘ay?”

Your eyes roll. You pop the cap off another beer for Gil as he stumbles toward you, handing it to him while taking his cash at the same time.

“And why are you here? ‘Cus I didn’t peg you down to be the heavy metal type. That was always reserved for—“

Your face falls. This time, your heart actually starts to pound within the constraints of its ribcage, and you feel nauseous. You’re lucky that no glass is held tightly beneath deft fingertips, or else you’d be having to sweep the shards of it off of the floor.

“Joel.” You murmur as he pads over to Tommy.

He leans against the bar, looking at his brother. He mumbles something about this place being a dive, how loud it is, and that he needs to be getting back ‘cus Sarah’ll be gettin’ worried if I’m not home before midnight.

You’re blinking at him, but he doesn’t notice you’re standing right there. Not until he pins a cigarette between his lips and fishes about his pocket for a light, but comes up empty.

Joel turns around, patting his shirt and jeans pockets, before his eyes flick upward and mouth gapes open. The cigarette is stuck to his bottom lip by the slick of his saliva, and a sheer stroke of luck.

He yanks the stick from his mouth, before he’s pointing at Tommy with it.

It’s almost comical that Love Bites is playing from the jukebox. Though, it makes a fucking change from Whiskey In The Jar.

“This why you fuckin’ brought me here?!” He barks, and you’re glad that it’s so loud in there or else he’d be causing a scene.

Tommy holds his hands up in defense. “I didn’t know she worked here!”

“He didn’t.” You cut in, earning a glare from the man whose heart once lived in your pocket. “What? Do you really think he’d put you—us—in this position willingly?”

Joel looks between the two of you, easing the accusatory gesture. He slips the cigarette between his lips again, and you—begrudgingly—hurl a lighter toward him.

He doesn’t acknowledge you. He just takes it and sparks the cigarette, cupping the cherry as the light takes.

“You’re welcome.” You snark. Joel slides it over to you without even so much as looking upward. “You’re used to that, ain’t ‘ya? Taking things from me when you’ve got no business to?”

He says your name warning, finally meeting your gaze. His eyes are dark. A lot more dismal, than usual. Saddened, maybe.

And his face is gaunt. Still as handsome as ever, but complexion slightly sallow. Though, you just put that down to the fact that winter doesn’t offer too much sun for him to tan, in Jackson.

“I didn’t do shit to you.” Joel upholds, flicking cigarette ash into the ceramic dish atop the bar. You tense up at his tone. “You wanted more than what I could’ve given you, so we both knew it wasn’t gonna work—“

“I loved you, Joel!” You bark across the bar, leaning over a little. He drops a glance to your tits—exposed and glittering—and swallows thickly the lump in the back of his throat. “I wanted to be with you—get married, start a family—was that such a bad fuckin’ thing?!”

“Y’knew I didn’t want that.”

You blink back the tears that are desperate to push over your waterline, and nod. “But if you communicated that to me earlier on in the relationship, then maybe I would’ve shunned those ideas.”

Tommy looks between the two of you, hating the prickly tension. Because—two and a half years ago—you two were the strongest couple he ever knew. Regardless of the age gap, you were obsessed with one another.

But now you’re strangers, standing at opposite sides of the bar.

“Take a break, hon.” Cassie tells you from a distance and you’re peeling off the waist apron faster than you can even acknowledge what she’s saying.

Marlboro reds are being yanked from the ass pocket of your jeans, and the lighter that you had let Joel borrow is snared firmly within the palm of your left hand.

You storm to the front of the bar—ignoring the friendly crowd of regulars, friends, and new-faces—all the while devoured by this overwrought tension that’s bubbling up from the deepest caverns inside of you.

Joel follows you, reaching for your wrist but you shirk the feeling because it’s turning you sick. Just the sheer feeling of his skin—calloused and rough—ghosting over yours is enough to churn your stomach and force those ill feelings to flood back into your system.

You step outside, the din of much-to-loud music now muffled by the steel doors—only clear when someone walks in or out of the bar—and let your back hit against the brick wall with a dramatic thud.

“Sorry.” Joel says, though you know he doesn’t mean it.

“For what, exactly? Dumping me? Making me look like the bad guy, just ‘cus I wanted something?”

He runs a hand over his face, before he’s shifting forward to let a drunken—completely in love—couple pass by the two of you. He joins you up against the wall, his right boot colliding with it.

“I didn’t make you look like the bad guy—“

“Bullshit.” You say. “I see Sarah about town sometimes—she doesn’t even acknowledge me anymore, Joel. I spent five years of my life playing mommy to that little girl, and now I’m like a stranger to her?”

He hates how you’re throwing this back into his face, but he supposes that he deserves it. However, he will not give in to you that easy.

“You never played mommy. She always called you by your first name.” Like he knows it’ll hurt you, he says. “You were just a glorified babysitter, to her—“

“Oh, get fucked!” You bark, teeth clamped together. “You can’t say this shit when you don’t mean it, Joel! You know that she loved me!”

Your words materialize into the saddest tone he’s ever heard from you, and he’s suddenly feeling awful for even musing such a thing. He’s never this mean.

“Fuck—I’m sorry. You’re right, that was an awful thing to say.” Regret depletes him. But it’s too late. Tears are flowing from your beautiful eyes, like a dam that’s burst its way over the river banks, and Joel hates himself for doing this to you. Again.

When he broke things off—and ruined your life—he thought it would be easier to build a wall around himself, and lie to people about the nature of your departure. He told everybody that you left on your own terms, that you wanted things that Joel could never give to you—though, if he had just kept an open mind, then maybe he could’ve.

Because for months after you left his home, he found himself glued to his cellphone, desperate to call or text you to tell you how sorry he was for doing what he did.

That he was too hasty—too fucking mean—to say that he didn’t want a life with you. Because he did.

But it’s too late.

“Piper missed you, Joel.” You wipe away fat tears with the palm of your hand—knowing your mascara has smudged but not being able to find it in yourself to care—and tell him about the dog that the two of you once cared for together. “She sat by the door every morning waiting for you.”

This is killing him. Having you in front of him, but knowing that things will never be the same again.

“She’s four, now.” You smile a little bit. “She didn’t grow any bigger than what a German Shepherd should’ve, but she acts like it. Thinks she’s a fuckin’ rhino, or somethin’.”

Joel chuckles, feeling his own sadness loom in his tear ducts.

“She loves babies.” That maims you, a bit. “Cassie’s sister had a little boy in February. Piper sits by the crib whenever we visit. She would’ve loved being a sister.”

“I bet. She was always such a protective dog.” He stubs out his cigarette, though makes no effort to go back inside. “Especially when it came to you.”

“I’m her mom.” You tell him, blankly. “I feed her. I take her on walks. I groom her. I’m the only person that’s remained a constant in her life since she was eight-weeks old—“

“And I’m sorry for that.” A little stern—not enjoying being discreetly chastised—he says. “But we were never going to work—“

“And you thought that you’d tell me that after five fucking years?” You flick your own roach to the ground now, letting your back peel away from the wall. “Joel, I wasted half a decade with a man who couldn’t see us going anywhere, and you just expected me to be fine with that?”

“You didn’t waste your fucking time with me.”

“I could’ve had a family, by now!” You yell, your cheeks damp once again. Eyes stinging. “Joel, I could be somebody’s mother. Somebody’s wife.”

He feels awful that he’s taken that from you, but surmises that it isn’t too late.

“I know that you did it all before you met me—I know that was something that I was signing up for when I started dating an older man,” you take a breath, “but I thought that you might’ve changed your mind. Because I thought that you loved me—“

Joel grabs firmly your hands and shakes them, getting you to look at him. His eyes plead with yours.

“I did love you.” He breathes deep. “I think there’s a part of me that still loves you. But I couldn’t give you what it was that you wanted—“

You yanked your hands from his grip—for the second time this evening, actually.

“Couldn’t, or wouldn’t, Joel? Because to me, it seems like you were scared of committing to me for fear of something bad happening.”

“Don’t—“

“Not everyone leaves, Joel.” Softly, you tell him. “I was never planning on walking outta your life, so I don’t know why you were so scared to commit to me.”

Because I’m fucking insecure?

You look down at your watch, realizing that you’ve been out here far, far too long.

“Look.” You make eye contact with him. You miss the way he so boldly meets your gaze whenever you speak. “I’m sorry that you thought I was too high maintenance—that you’d never be able to keep me satisfied—but I was. There was never a doubt in my mind that I wouldn’t have had the best life with you, Miller.”

“But you wanted kids—“

“And I had Sarah. Of course, I wanted to mother my own children, Joel, but it wasn’t the end of the world. It just hurt to know that you didn’t want to give me that, when I was always so willing to do it for you.”

His eyes close slowly, realizing how much of a fucking prick he’s been these last twenty-four months.

“I’m sorry—“

“I need to get back in there.” You say with a small nod, gripping firmly the heavy-set door to the club before you’re stepping inside and leaving Joel completely dumbfounded.

I need to make this right.

It’s twelve forty-three in the morning when you finally amble up your driveway, and you’ve actually never been this happy to see your house before.

The kitchen light dim—though still bright enough to see Piper’s silhouette by the door—fills your heart with an immediate sense of comfort after such a long fucking day.

Carefully guiding yourself up the wooden steps so that you don’t fall, you edge nearer to your front door. But not before your boot is colliding with a little bag perched on the top step.

There’s a tag—your name inscribed—and you feel your face fall. Do you have a stalker?

But any premonition is squashed when you take the bag inside—wary, of course—and open it up. Piper is running laps around you all the while your hands fish around the pink cardboard.

“Oh?” You take out an envelope, and your heart sinks.

It starts with your name, and a little wonky heart next to it. Not to mention, it’s written with a pink gel-pen.

I’m sorry for being a jerk, I’d understand if you hate me. Today was fucking horrible, and I’m a douchebag. Not just for today, but for this whole thing. I’m sorry for making everybody think that you’re a bitch, and I wish that I would’ve told you sooner that I didn’t want children, or to get married again. Now that I’m thinking about it, it doesn’t seem all that bad. I’m also sorry that Tommy was a dick, he said he texted you but it bounced back—must’ve blocked his number. But honestly I don’t blame you. We’re assholes and you never deserved us in your life baby.

Take this card as an apology, if you want to. But take those candies and the dog treats, and have a nice evening with our little girl. I’ve unblocked your number and put my own inside of this envelope, so I hope that you’ll call me and we can make things right again.

Love always, Joel.

You wipe at your tears with the back of your hand, and pull out the dog treats alongside the nerds gummy clusters, and smile. He knows you both so well.

“Here, Piper girl.” She comes barreling over to you, almost sweeping your knees from beneath you. “Look’it what your daddy bought for you.”

Her ears prick up at the mention of Joel, and it’s at this moment that you realize you’ll be seeing him again a lot sooner than what you originally thought.

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x afab reader #joel miller x reader #tlou x reader #tlou x afab reader

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holylulusworld · 5 months ago

Text

Goldilocks

Summary: Tony had to ruin Steve's plans.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Reverse Trope: Too many beds

Warnings: mentions of sex practices/toys/anal fisting (nothing happens, no description), too many beds trope, fluff, love-struck Steve, teasing

A/N: This story is part of my reverse tropes' collection.

“Y/N!“ Steve almost yells your name when Tony asks who will accompany Steve on the next mission. “I mean, Y/N should be my partner for this mission. She knows the region, and we will draw less attention toward us when we pretend to be married.”

“We need to pretend to be married.” You cock a brow. “I thought it was an easy mission. Get in, get the information, and get out.”

“Uh—we found out that the target likes to watch pairs get intimate. He’s a…” Tony clears his throat. He’s by all means not a prude, but the footage he saw last week was more than kinky. “Let’s say he has a certain taste.”

“Leather, crops, pegging, fucking machines?” You count all the things coming to mind while switching back and forth between the notes on your iPad. “Is he a dom or a sub, maybe a switch?”

Tony makes an odd noise while Steve, uncomfortable, shifts in his seat. He stares at you, his eyes glued to the pencil you push into your mouth to chew on it. It was a habit he always hated, but right now, he’d love to replace the pencil with something else. Steve swallows thickly at all the dirty ideas, drowning him like a tidal wave.

Steve opens his mouth. He wants to say something, but nothing comes out. You giggle when your eyes meet Steve’s. His face is flushed, and he drops his eyes to your chest, pretending to find the button on your Henley interesting.

“What kind of flavor is he?” You finally look up from your iPad to find your fellow Avengers staring at you, mouth agape. “What? I like to do my research, guys. We pretend that we are married. Therefore, we need to know if he must fuck me through the wall or just cuddle with me.”

“Fuck…what?” Steve hiccups. His eyes widen as he tries to keep the problem in his pants in line. He can’t think about you like that. Steve is a gentleman and wants to court you before taking you to bed. “Language, doll!”

“Sorry, Cap.” You grin at Tony, who barely hides his interest in your knowledge. “What is it, Tony?”

“Uh-it’s nothing. We should get back to the mission,” Tony nervously stammers. He tugs at the loose tie around his neck. “After all I’ve seen and heard about our target, I can tell you that he’s a kinky bastard. And if I say kinky, I mean it.”

“What are we talking about, Tony?” You lean back in your chair and cross one leg over the other. “Are we talking about nipple clams kinky or my fist up his ass kinky?”

Steve spits the water he drank onto his shirt. He coughs and wheezes, making you suck in a breath. You jump up to gently pat his back. “Hey, Cap. You shouldn’t drink so fast. We don’t want you to choke.”

“I think he’d love to choke on something else,” Tony chuckles when you give him the stinky eye. You know, Steve is a little shy and prude when it comes to sex and fecal language.

“Tony, back to my question.”

“He’s ‘you’re injured and can’t walk for a week’ kind of kinky.”

Tony snickers at Steve’s pained expression. He didn’t plan on hammering you through a wall but to ask you out. Steve is a man out of time, but he slowly opened up to you. His heart beats a little faster close to you, and that makes him feel more alive than the adrenaline pumping through his veins during a battle.

“Steve, you better pack the riding crop!” Tony exclaims, making everyone but you and Steve laugh.

You square your jaw. “Don’t worry, Tony,” you coo. “I’ll bring the crop. Stevie only has to bring himself and his strong hands."

“This house is huge!” You giggle while running from room to room. While you are over the moon because there are six bedrooms at the mansion Tony rented for your mission, Steve is in a sour mood.

Steve is not amused—not at all. Tony talked about a small apartment. One bedroom. One bed. ONLY ONE BED. Steve had it all planned. He’d offer the bed to you, only to accidentally end up on the ground—because he’s a tall man.

You’re sweet and kind, no doubly offering to share the bed with him. Now there are six bedrooms and not a chance for Steve.

“I gotta choose one bed,” you call from inside one of the bedrooms. As you jump onto the bed, grumbling because it’s too soft, Steve sighs deeply. “Not that one.”

Moments later, you run out of the first bedroom and into the second, jumping onto the bed too. “Ouch, that one is too hard!”

“You can choose whichever room you want,” Steve says, and grabs his bag. He walks toward the first bedroom to claim it. You already decided the bed was not for you.

“NEXT!” You giggle and run out of the room to sprint toward the third bedroom. “What the fuck!” Cursing under your breath, you slip off the third bed. “This bed smells odd.”

“What?” Steve calls from inside the first bedroom. He had already unpacked his belongings and was on his way to the bathroom. “Do you need my help?”

“No, all is well,” you grumble and trot out of the room, heaving a sigh. This is not as funny as you believed it would be. The fourth room doesn’t offer much more comfort. It’s too clean, almost sterile, and the bed is as hard as stone. "Fuck, this is awful.”

The fifth one is no better. The bed is too hard, and the carpet is scratchy.

You get back up and walk out of the room to enter the last bedroom. Slowly, you feel like Goldilocks in the fairytale, trying all the beds. This one must be the right one, or you won’t get any sleep.

You’re not picky when it comes to food or clothes. But when it comes to a mattress, you need the perfect mixture of hard and soft.

Taking a deep breath, you drop your duffle bags to the ground and run toward the bed. You jump onto it only to groan again. It’s too fucking soft.

“No, you bitch!” You huff and slam your fists into the mattress. “This can’t be true.”

Meanwhile, Steve steps out of the shower to get ready for bed. Tomorrow will be an exhausting day, spent with observation and faking a relationship.

“This is awful,” you sigh deeply while aimlessly walking from bedroom to bedroom. You switched into your pajamas, hoping to find a bed on your second round.

“What’s wrong?” Steve calls from inside the first bedroom. He lifts his head from his pillow when you sneak into his room.

You yawn and longingly look at the bed Steve occupies. It would be a bitch move to ask him to switch rooms with you.

“Y/N, you look exhausted and...cranky.” He worriedly watches you step toward his bed. You huff and drop your bags before climbing over him to settle behind him. “Y/N?” He asks as you fluff the second pillow and crawl under the covers.

“That’s the best bed,” you murmur while scooting closer to Steve. He’s warm, and the room is a little chilly.

“I can use one of the other bedrooms if you want this one,” he offers, already moving toward the edge of the bed.

“No,” you say, stopping him before Steve can slip out of bed. “I think you make the bed more comfortable. You warmed it up, and the mattress feels much better now.”

Steve’s breath hitches in his throat when you tell him to turn around and open his arms. Steve watches you move closer to snuggle in his chest, sighing because you finally found the perfect bed.

You close your eyes, enjoying Steve’s warm embrace. “Doll?” He wonders if you are already playing your role or if this is real.

“Shush, Stevie. You need your sleep too,” you softly say and pat his chest. “You need all your strength to fuck me through that wall tomorrow.”

Tags in reblog.

#Goldilocks #reverse tropes collection #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve x reader #steve x you #x reader

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thatsmzbitchtoyou · 4 months ago

Text

A little help from my friend -Oneshot

@talesofreading I'm sorry it took me so long to get this done for you! I hope you like it. Happy belated birthday darling. Word count: 3880

“For fuck’s sake,” Y/N grunted as she walked into the Avengers communal kitchen and common room area. She went to the refrigerator and pulled out a protein drink and some food to make a quick breakfast.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” Wanda piped up from the kitchen table. The other Avengers were all milling about, getting their own breakfasts before heading out or training. Y/N had an early morning training with the recruits most days, so she often missed the communal breakfast meals.

“Nothing,” Y/N sighed.

“Don’t make me read your mind,” Wanda warned.

Y/N glared at her, and Wanda glared back. Their conversation got the attention of the other Avengers in the area. “It’s not a big deal,” Y/N continued. “One of the new recruits is just a little…too interested in me personally,” she said, turning back to the counter.

Wanda frowned. “What happened?”

Steve, Sam and Bucky all listened carefully, slowly eating their breakfasts. Y/N was suddenly very aware of everyone in the area. “It’s really not a big deal–”

“It is if it’s bothering you, Y/N,” Steve spoke up, all Captain America at that moment. “Especially if it’s affecting your job or you feeling safe.”

Y/N smiled at him appreciatively. “I can handle myself, Cap,” she said.

“Never said you couldn’t,” he retorted. “But if we can nip it in the bud with this recruit–”

“He just keeps asking for my number, okay?” Y/N said, waving away everyone’s concern. “And…cornering me after training. It’s fine. I can handle it,” she said, finishing preparing her food and cleaning up after herself.

“What’s his name?” Bucky asked.

Everyone turned to him in surprise. Y/N had worked with him multiple times on missions and talked with him regularly, becoming good friends, but this still surprised her. Bucky rarely joined the conversation unless prompted. He was very low key and kept to himself most of the time. So him looking at her with such an intense look and asking a question was a shock. She stared at him with wide eyes. “Tyler,” she replied. He arched an eyebrow at her. “Whitacre,” she finished.

Bucky nodded and looked down, finishing his breakfast. Nobody said a word as Y/N quickly gathered her food and left the kitchen. She shook her head at herself once she reached her room to eat then shower. She’d been growing some pretty strong feelings toward Bucky for a while now, but tamped them down deep in her heart. He didn’t need some lovesick coworker to deal with. He just needed friends as he integrated into regular life. There was no way he’d feel the same toward her…would he?

***

“Today we’ll be starting gun training,” Y/N announced to her training group. There was an excited whispered chatter from the recruits at her words. “I could teach you myself, but I thought I’d bring in the expert of all experts in this field. I expect you to shut up, listen, and give him the respect he deserves. Our guest trainer is Sergeant Barnes.”

Bucky was already walking into the training room as she introduced him, his face hard and stoic as it always was in these environments. The recruits clapped for him as he stood next to Y/N. “Thank you, Agent Y/L/N,” he greeted her then turned to the recruits. “Let’s see what you got.”

After a rigorous training, where Bucky really broke down a few recruits and built them back up, each of their shots getting better by the end, they all left exhausted. Bucky stayed behind, cleaning up the guns used for the training with Y/N when Tyler approached her. “Hey Y/N,” he said, sidling up to her far too close for her liking.

“Agent Whitacre,” she greeted him, giving him a polite but tight smile. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Ah come on, Y/N, I told you to call me Tyler,” he smirked at her.

“And I told you to call me Agent Y/L/N,” she replied, her eyes narrowing in warning.

Tyler’s face had a flash of annoyance before his smirk came back. “Right. Well, you ran off last time before I got a chance to ask you–”

“Once again, Agent, I’m flattered, but no thank you,” Y/N said hastily, turning away and closing another case of guns. “I’ll see you next training.”

Tyler followed her as she walked away to the locker room to put the case away in the gun lockers. She carefully put things away and turned to find him cornering her. “Don’t be like that Y/N…” he started, taking another step toward her, his arms reaching up to cage her against the wall.

A loud bang made them both jump as Tyler whipped around to see Bucky who had set down another gun case sharply, glaring at Tyler. He slowly approached, his eyes never leaving Tyler like he was hunting him. He swerved around him at the last second, making Tyler flinch, then focused on Y/N as he inserted himself between them. He reached his metal hand out and wrapped it around the back of her neck, angling her head up as he leaned down and kissed her deeply. Y/N inhaled sharply, stiffening against him as she heard Tyler scoff. The kiss ended too soon, Y/N barely kissing him back before Bucky pulled away and looked down at her. “You good, Sweets?” he asked quietly, but just loud enough for Tyler to hear.

“Yeah,” Y/N whispered, staring up at him in shock.

Bucky looked her over then turned to Tyler, keeping himself as a shield in front of Y/N. “Respect the no, recruit,” he said lowly. “And your form is shit. Work on that before next time or I’ll make an example of you in front of everyone.”

Tyler swallowed harshly, his lips tight and his eyes wide as he minutely nodded. “Yes sir,” he said. He glanced at Y/N then walked quickly out of the locker room, running once he’d got past the door frame.

Bucky watched him leave, then turned back to Y/N. He had an unreadable expression as they stared at each other for what felt like forever. “Just tell me if he bothers you anymore,” he said, then turned and left.

Y/N stared after him incredulously. Her fingers lifted to her mouth, his kiss still searing on her lips, the feeling of his metal fingers holding her firmly but gently on the back of her neck as his thumb caressed her jaw tingling her skin. What the fuck just happened?

***

The gun training lasted two more training sessions, and every time at the end of class Bucky would linger behind with Y/N to clean up, then make a small show of kissing her in front of Tyler as he was leaving. It took her by surprise each time, Bucky coming from seemingly nowhere and with no preamble, just kissing the living daylights out of her, calling her “Sweets,” then walking away like nothing happened. Once the gun training was over Tyler didn’t even look her way anymore unless he had to. So Bucky’s little plan had worked, but now Y/N was confused. And worse, she craved him even more.

Three weeks later Y/N and Bucky were on a mission together. It was surveillance on a potential target that was dealing in high power weaponry. Y/N and Bucky had barely spoken to each other since that last gun training, exchanging brief greetings and farewells as they passed each other in the hallway. The other Avengers had given some side-eyed looks, since Y/N and Bucky had normally been pretty friendly before, but no one commented on it otherwise. Now she was stuck with him in close quarters for the next week as they gathered as much information about the target as possible.

She woke up from her turn sleeping, getting ready for the day and approaching Bucky who was sitting by the window in the small apartment they were staying in. He hadn’t moved from the spot since she’d gone to bed hours before. “Anything?” she asked quietly.

“Another prostitute,” Bucky replied, standing and stretching as she took his place by the window. “Otherwise nothing worth noting.”

“How lovely,” Y/N scoffed. She got herself comfortable and looked through the scope Bucky had propped on the windowsill. The view into the opposite apartment where the target stayed was pristine. “He didn’t leave the blinds open, did he?” she asked, looking up at him.

“He did,” Bucky grimaced.

“Jesus,” Y/N winced. “You got quite the show.”

“Not really. He only lasted about two minutes.”

Y/N laughed loudly at that. “Poor girl,” she giggled, wiping her eyes and looking through the scope again. “At least she was paid.”

Bucky chuckled and started walking towards the bedroom. “Let me know if anything changes, Sweets.”

Y/N stiffened and before she could stop herself she grunted, “Don’t call me that.”

Bucky stopped and looked back at her. Y/N kept her gaze in the scope, her face flushing with embarrassment. She hadn't meant to say it out loud. But who did he think he was to use the same pet name that he’d used in a fake “situationship” to help her get away from some creep and then use it in everyday life? Like he hadn’t rocked her world three times over? She heard his footsteps come back towards her, then the shuffle of his clothes as he kneeled down beside her. “Why not?” he asked.

Y/N breathed heavily, trying to calm her thundering heart. She kept her gaze in the scope, her hands tightening to fists in her lap. “No one to save me from,” she said nonchalantly.

Bucky suddenly gripped her arm and pulled her to face him. She gasped lightly as he manhandled her, moving so he was kneeling between her legs, bringing his face close to hers and taking her hands in his. His eyes were piercing as he stared at her. “That’s not it,” he said. “Tell me why not?”

Y/N blinked rapidly. “That is the reason,” she whispered.

Bucky shook his head. “I can tell when people lie, Sweets. Try again.”

Y/N shut her eyes tight. “Please stop calling me that.”

She felt Bucky’s metal fingers caress her cheek and back into her hair, holding her head like he did when he kissed her. She fought back the shiver at the coolness of metal, not wanting to give away just how badly she wanted this man. Y/N heard and felt his breath fanning her face as he leaned in closer. His nose brushed along her cheek, his lips ghosting close to the side of her lips. “I can’t, Y/N. You taste too sweet,” he murmured.

Y/N whimpered, and without warning tears pricked at her eyes. She shook her head and pushed him away, standing and walking toward the bedroom. “I can’t do this,” she nearly sobbed.

“Woah, wait, Y/N!” Bucky called out to her. She tried closing and locking the bedroom door but he stopped it with his foot. “Hey, don’t run away from me,” he grunted, pushing the door back open and looking at her in surprise. “I’m sorry–”

“Please just leave me alone,” Y/N sighed, wiping her eyes and turning away from him.

“Y/N,” he said, sounding wounded. “Talk to me.”

“How am I supposed to talk to you?” She was suddenly angry, turning back to face him with a glare. “You decided the best way to help me with a creepy recruit was to publicly claim me in front of him and who knows how many others by kissing me? And not just once, but three times? Calling me a cute pet name? Do you enjoy giving people false hope and then walking away because it means nothing to you? And expect us to go back to normal? What the fuck, Barnes?”

Bucky recoiled at her using his last name. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I…I should have talked to you beforehand, and not just done it. That wasn’t fair, I’m sorry.” Y/N crossed her arms, holding herself as she fought back more tears. He took a step closer. “And then I was a coward and didn’t talk to you about it afterwards, either. God, I’m an idiot,” he grumbled, running his flesh hand over his face harshly. “I…I really like you, Y/N. I’m sorry I went about this totally wrong. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Y/N stared at him for a long moment then nodded. “Thank you. I forgive you,” she said.

Bucky watched her sadly. “Can I…can we start over?” he asked hopefully.

Y/N couldn’t stop the small smile spreading on her lips. “Sure,” she said.

He smiled and stepped toward her again. He took a deep breath and licked his lips. “I like you, as much more than just a friend.”

“I like you, too,” Y/N said quickly.

Bucky’s smile widened. “Once we get home, can I take you out on a proper date?”

“Yes,” she said.

***

A week later they were coming home from a proper, successful date. Bucky was quite the gentleman, taking her to a nice restaurant in the city, then a solo night tour (probably courtesy of Tony) through The Metropolitan Museum of Art. They grabbed some dessert on the way home, talking the whole time as they snacked on the treat. Bucky had kept a hand on her at all times, whether it was on her back as he guided her around or holding her hand as they walked. They got off the elevator and Bucky walked her to her bedroom door.

“Thank you for going out with me,” he said, standing toe to toe with her.

“Thank you,” Y/N said. “I’ve never had such a fun first date.”

“Really? Wow, I’ll have to up the ante next time,” Bucky smirked, his flesh hand reaching up and playing with the tips of her hair.

“Next time?” Y/N arched her eyebrow. “You seem very sure of yourself.”

“I am,” Bucky said, leaning forward. “But of course I’m a gentleman.”

“Of course,” Y/N teased.

“So…would you like to go out with me again?” he asked, his forehead resting against her forehead.

Y/N pretended to think about it. “Mmh, I’ll have to check my schedule, so for now it’s a tentative yes,” she smirked back at him.

Bucky narrowed his eyes, his fingers moving from her hair to her jaw, tracing it lightly. “A tentative yes?” he grumbled. “I know you like to tease, but I’m gonna need an enthusiastic yes, Sweets.”

Y/N’s eyes slightly widened at the pet name. He hadn’t called her that since they got back from the mission, and she actually missed hearing it from him. She nodded. “Yes, I’d like to go out with you again,” she reassured him.

His smirk returned. “Good girl, Sweets,” he said. Y/N felt a shiver down her spine at his words. His eyes flicked back and forth between her eyes, then glanced at her lips. “Can I kiss you?”

Y/N nodded. “Yes.”

Bucky’s metal hand gripped her by the back of the neck like the other times, his metal thumb sweeping over her cheek. He leaned down and kissed her softly, not as firmly or passionately as the other times. It was like he was trying to reassure her that this was real, and he wanted more than brief sexual tension. And as much as she appreciated that, she craved what he’d given her before. Y/N wrapped her arms around his waist, her nails digging into his back as she gripped his shirt under his jacket, angling her head to deepen the kiss. Bucky moaned against her mouth at her urgency.

“I’m trying to be, mmh, a gentleman, Sweets,” he groaned, pulling away and lightly pecking her lips repeatedly.

“You can be a gentleman and fuck me at the same time,” Y/N mumbled.

Bucky huffed a sharp breath, like her words sucked the air right out of him and he sagged against her, pushing her into her bedroom door. “Fuck, Y/N, you can’t say that to me,” he growled. “God, you drive me fucking crazy.”

Y/N smiled as she kissed from his lips down to his neck. “Your room or mine, handsome?”

Bucky moaned again and dipped down, picking her up and holding her by her thighs. He turned around to his bedroom door that was across the hall and marched towards it as he kissed her deeply again. He ripped the door open and kicked it shut behind them before pinning her against the door. His knee pushed under her core to keep her lifted as his hands slid to her ass, feeling the cheeks of her ass as he opened his mouth, his tongue licking her lower lip and sucking on it. Y/N shuddered and whimpered against his mouth. Bucky gasped at the first noise he was able to pull from her. “Let me hear you, Sweets. God, you’re so good.” His tongue plunged back into her mouth, tasting her tongue and moaning again. “You feel so good…sound so good…taste so good,” he breathed.

Y/N moaned at the rushed desperation in his movements. Feeling so wanted, so needed, was making her lightheaded and feel like she was beaming. Her hands moved to cup his face, scratching his beard then reaching up into his hair, scratching down his scalp. That pulled a deep growl from his chest, his hips rutting up into her. She hummed, smiling against his lips. Bucky pulled her away from the door and carried her to his bed, laying her on it gently as he shrugged his jacket off.

It was a flurry of clothes being pulled off and flung into corners of his room, limbs clambering over each other as they moved further up onto the bed, huffed gasps and whimpers. Bucky nipped at her throat as he felt how wet and ready she was for him. “Protection?” he asked.

“No,” Y/N shook her head, her nails scratching down his back.

Bucky smiled against the skin of her shoulder. He aimed his cock at her entrance and started to slowly push inside. Y/N’s head wrenched back and she gasped at the fill and stretch of him, and Bucky tucked his face into her breasts as her back arched, kissing and licking her nipples to help ease her. “Fucking hell, Sweets,” he swore, looking up at her as she relaxed back into the bed when she was adjusted to him. He gave her the first roll of his hips, making her tremble beneath him. “So responsive,” he smirked.

“Kinda hard not to be, with all this above me,” Y/N breathed, her hands sliding up his chest. “You live up to your name, handsome.” Bucky blushed, smiling bashfully at her. “Aw, you’re so cute,” Y/N cooed at him, her hands reaching up to his face and pulling him down to kiss him sweetly. “I’ll have to compliment you more often.”

Bucky’s hips thrusted again and her mouth dropped open in a silent moan. “Quit teasing,” he said, licking into her mouth. “As much as I love your flirty compliments, I really need to fuck you before I lose my mind.”

“Then fuck me!” Y/N said, rubbing her nose along his cheek. “Please!”

Bucky inhaled deeply then started pummeling his hips into her. Y/N’s arms wrapped around his shoulders and held on tight as he held her in a hug so her body wouldn’t be pushed up the bed at his thrusts. He sucked and licked at her neck repeatedly, pulling more wanton moans from her at the mix of pain and pleasure, leaving as much bruising evidence for later as possible. He kissed his way back up to her mouth where she easily opened up to him, their tongues swirling and nipping at each other’s lips. It was never-ending and yet too short all at the same time as Y/N tried not to get lost in her head at the blinding pleasure. Y/N sucked on his tongue and Bucky adjusted his position to snap his hips slightly more upward, which had her keening against his mouth. “There it is,” he smirked, then continued his previous, frantic pace in that new direction. He was hitting that deep spot inside every time, Y/N’s breaths becoming more short and hyperventilated as her head thrashed back and forth at the overwhelming pressure building in her gut.

“Buck…handsome, I’m gonna cum…ah!” Y/N yelped as Bucky sat up, his flesh fingers strumming her clit as his metal hand held her at the back of her neck like the other times he’d kissed her, but this time his grip was tighter, tangling in the hair at the nape of her neck. He forced her head up to meet him halfway as he pushed their foreheads together.

“Cum all over my cock, Sweets. Let me feel you,” Bucky growled, staring deep into her eyes. Y/N gasped again at his words, then finally felt the snap deep in her belly. She screamed as she came, her hands gripping his biceps and her legs shaking over his hips as her pussy clamped down on him. Bucky grunted, his eyes shutting tight as he continued thrusting, prolonging her orgasm as his fingers never let up on her clit. “That’s it, fuck!” Bucky hissed between gritted teeth. “Where can I cum, Sweets?”

“Anywhere you want,” Y/N huffed, her body still twitching with aftershocks. She was so close to cumming again.

“Holy shit, dirty girl, huh?” Bucky asked excitedly. “You feel so good, I’m just gonna fill you up. Is that okay?”

“Yyyyeessss,” Y/N groaned.

“Good girl, Sweets,” he praised her. His hands gripped her hips tightly as he thrust even harder into her pussy, the sharp snaps making her jiggle and shake. Y/N slipped a hand down and started rubbing her clit, her other hand gripping his wrist. “Yeah, make yourself feel good. You gonna cum again? God, you’re so fucking beautiful, so pretty. Prettiest pussy, Sweets.”

Y/N shook harder as she felt her second orgasm barrel through her, her nerves feeling like they were on fire. When she came Bucky moaned loudly, her pussy squeezing him beyond belief. He finally came, continuing to thrust and fill her up until it dripped from between them and down their thighs to her ass. “Bucky…” she huffed.

“Sorry, Sweets, I can’t help it,” Bucky shook above her, his cock still throbbing inside her. “You squeeze me so good…and the serum makes everything, fuck…” he leaned down so his head rested on her chest. “Makes everything more intense.”

“It’s okay, handsome,” Y/N smiled, her hands going to his hair and scratching his scalp, softly pulling at the strands. He hummed at her gentle fingers’ caresses. “We can just take a shower.”

Bucky hummed again, sounding more gravelly as he looked up at her. “Dirty girl,” he smirked.

THE END

#marvel #smut #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes oneshot #oneshot #request #ask

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darkwitchoferie · 21 days ago

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Train Ride - Chapter 4, Hyunjin

A quick note about the immersive Van Gogh Exhibition. They go to SeMA – the Seoul Museum of Art. That’s not where the real exhibit was when it was in Seoul, but fanfic rules, so who cares? Also, why was Hyunjin’s smut scene so much harder to write than any of the others so far? Like, it just didn’t want to cooperate. Finally, I decided to use text screenshots from time to time instead of just saying ‘oh you got a text’. There’s only one in this chapter. Also, this one has more plot to it than the others have had. It starts to get that way after this. Still smutty, but a tiny more plot too.

Cw/tw for this chapter: alluded to member x member action (Innie and Felix), unprotected vaginal sex, nipple play, oral (f receiving), this one’s actually really sweet

wc: 3.8k

Master list

While you were watching the livestream of the boys in the airport, you got a text notification. Seeing it was from Chan, you opened it quickly to see a screenshot of the picker wheel you were using with Hyunjin’s name chosen. Smiling to yourself, you switched back to the livestream, watching your boys make their way through the airport and thinking of ways to seduce Hyunjin.

It was about an hour after they were on the plane, while you were on your way to the grocery store, that you saw an ad and realized what you wanted to do. You knew Hyunjin was a romantic at heart and, while he may not object to being outright seduced the way Felix and Jeongin had been, he’d like something with more romance. When you parked at the grocery store, you quickly pulled out your phone and bought two tickets for the immersive Van Gogh Exhibition that was happening at SeMA for the free day they had, two days after their return.

Hyunjin picked you up at your apartment in one of what you often thought of as his most dressed-down outfits. Not to say he didn’t look good – he always did. But there was something about the way he was dressed and held himself that made him seem like ‘no, I’m just an attractive man, definitely not Hyunjin of Stray Kids’. You weren’t sure what exactly it was, but when he was dressed so simply like this, people tended to not notice who he was. It reminded you of something you’d read about Marilyn Monroe, how she said she could “turn on” the Marilyn persona but otherwise people wouldn’t notice her. With Hyunjin, the disguise was the persona he was turning on.

He had a cap pulled down enough to partly obscure his face, but not enough to make it seem like he was hiding. He’d told you once before that that was part of the trick – hiding without making it look like he was hiding.

Knowing the way he would be dressed, you dressed to match. Instead of wearing fancier or typical date-wear, you were just in a normal, knee length skirt that flared out when you spun, a plain t-shirt, and flats. While normally you may have considered jeans or shorts given the pleasant weather, you’d discussed with Chan and the two of you agreed that there was something delightful and ‘easy-access’ about being in a skirt for every one of these seductions.

“Hey, Y/N,” he smiled at you, pulling you into a hug. “Thank you for this. I didn’t even realize the exhibition was in town.”

“Oh, of course. I saw the ad for it and immediately thought of you.” You linked your arm through his as you headed toward the elevator. “And I figure we’ll be there for a while, so stop for dinner after?”

“That sounds perfect, actually. Chan’s not gonna miss you?”

“He knows I’m with you today. And he’s holed up with Sungie and Bin.” You knew he only planned to be with them for an hour or two, but you didn’t need to point that out. Let Hyunjin assume it meant one of their marathon sessions.

He chuckled, clearly assuming that. “Good point.”

The immersive exhibit was perfect. So much so, that you periodically forgot your seduction plan, which you supposed helped it feel less rehearsed. You’d been thinking and planning for this date the whole time they’d been gone that you worried you’d come off as stiff or something. Instead, the pair of you fell into a natural rhythm and it felt perfectly normal to reach over and grip his upper arm, play with his hair that was finally growing out long enough to actually, properly, play with, or tuck yourself close to him whether there was a crowd of people around you or not.

After getting your fill of the exhibit, the pair of you headed back to Hyunjin’s car. You watched him gesture wildly as he talked about Van Gogh’s artwork, hands imitating the movement of the stars, speech speeding up as he talked about his favorite parts of the experience. Then he stopped, just before reaching his car, and flushed.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to –”

“No,” you cut him off, “nothing to be sorry for. I was enjoying your enjoyment, Hyune,” you smiled at him, linking your arm through his again.

“I just, I know I can be a little… much sometimes.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “And that’s different than any of our other friends, how exactly?”

“Okay, that’s…. Yeah, you have a point.” He grinned at you, turning to face you fully and pulled you into a hug. “Seriously, thank you for this. It was amazing.”

“You’re so incredibly welcome. I’m glad I got to do this with you.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head before letting go. “Dinner’s on me. Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere Thai, I’m craving chicken satay.”

“Ooo, yes.” He chuckled, taking your hand and spinning you, making you laugh too. The pair of you made it to your favorite Thai restaurant where you were sat at a booth toward the back of the seating area. The managers all knew who you were, or more importantly, who Hyunjin was, so they did what they could to make sure you were seated out of the way like they always did when any of the guys came in.

On your way to the table, you sent Chan a prearranged emoji message to let him know that you’d be back to your apartment in about an hour – the Thai restaurant being less than a five minute drive from your apartment. He was most likely already waiting at your apartment, but just in case he wasn’t yet, you sent the text to be sure. Hyunjin slid into the booth and you slid in beside him, sitting just barely far enough away to not be touching. He gave you a weird look, but otherwise didn’t comment on how close you were. Just like he hadn’t commented after any of the looks he’d given you at the museum that you’d elected to ignore. You ignored this look too, crossing one ankle behind the other and then fighting the internal laughter that came when your brain provided you with an ‘actually keeping your legs closed?’ joke.

Throughout dinner, you kept leaning into Hyunjin’s space – laughing with him, touching his arm, sharing his food. While none of it was unusual in the context of your friendships with all of the guys, you did your best to take it past the edge of flirting but not so far past that it would make him uncomfortable. Hyunjin was a good friend, one of the best, and as far as he knew you and Chan were exclusive.

As always, when you hung out with any of the guys, Hyunjin walked you to your apartment door. Chan was either watching the parking lot or got very lucky, and opened the door before you could put the key in the lock.

“Hey baby,” he kissed your cheek in greeting. “Hey Hyune.” He waited until you were both inside and he’d closed the door before asking, “So, how was your date?”

Hyunjin sputtered, “It wasn’t…. Hyung, I… I wouldn’t….”

“It was good. I got some great photos of Hyune enjoying the immersion. And he did that thing where he imitates the art with his hands, ya know?”

“Adorable,” Chan agreed. Hyunjin had fallen silent, staring between the two of you.

“We went for Thai at our usual place down the road. And I think I make Hyune nervous. Or, he’s just nervous how you’ll feel. I couldn’t really tell.” You could, but you wanted Hyunjin to know that you understood his nervousness.

“What is happening here?” He asked, still unsure and looking between you both.

“I suppose we were more direct with Jeongin and Felix,” Chan commented to you.

“Okay, more direct sexually, yes, obviously. But I feel like this was more romantic, ya know?”

Chan hummed his agreement. “Yeah, alright,” he turned to Hyunjin. “Blunt and direct, or soften it a little?” he asked.

“I don’t…. I don’t know?”

“Okay. I’m going to ask you something. It’s a genuine question, so I want a true answer. No judgement from us, no matter what your answer is.” Hyunjin nodded, not remotely reassured. “Do you want to have sex with Y/N?”

“Hyung, she’s your –”

“Nope,” Chan cut him off, “irrelevant for this conversation. Ignore me. Do you want to sleep with her?”

Hyunjin looked wide-eyed between the two of you a few times. “Yes,” he said softly.

You grinned, preening just a little bit. “Do you want to go on another date with her?”

“Yes.”

Chan smiled. “Good. Let me tell you what’s going on then.” He told Hyunjin about your desire to at least have sex with, but hopefully date, all the members but he didn’t elaborate on the previous comment about Jeongin and Felix.

When he was finished, you wrapped your arms around Hyunjin’s waist from behind like you’d done countless times throughout the time you’d known him. “It doesn’t have to change anything, Hyune. We can have sex today, then never again. We can have sex as often as we can fit it in for however long we both want. We can date and it can be a serious relationship if you want. Or, we can pretend this conversation never happened and today was just a fun day between friends. And any variation on any of that with Channie. It’s entirely up to you.”

Hyunjin hesitated. He brought his arms down to cover over yours but otherwise made no move for a few minutes. You didn’t press him, recognizing that he needed to think through his options. This was interesting for you to watch as you hadn’t given Jeongin and Felix the opportunity before anything happened. Which, worked out fine for your relationship with the both of them, but you knew it would never have worked that way for Hyunjin. The man had a romantic soul. Not that the others didn’t like romance, but it was just different with Hyunjin – he was more like Chan in this way.

After a few quiet minutes where you and Chan patiently waited for Hyunjin to think everything through, he turned in your arms. You tilted your head to the side, silently questioning him. He smiled, bringing his hands up to cup your cheeks and gently pressed his lips to yours. You smiled into the kiss, tightening your arms around him. You could still feel the nervousness, or maybe uncertainty would be more accurate, in the way Hyunjin touched you even as he tilted your head so he could deepen the kiss. You decided to just follow his lead rather than stop him to ask if he was sure. You were confident that Hyunjin wouldn’t do anything he wasn’t sure he wanted to do and the lingering nerves were either from the unusualness of the situation or because he knew Chan was watching you both.

His confidence grew as he kissed you, his tongue sliding past your lips and one hand sliding to the back of your head, cradling the back of your skull as the other slipped down to grip your hip. You clutched the back of his shirt as he broke away from your lips, trailing soft kisses along your jaw, neck, and down to the neck line of your t shirt. He didn’t seem to be in any sort of rush, just enjoying feeling your skin under his lips.

“Bedroom?” he asked softly, pulling away for just long enough to ask. You turned in his hold, forcing him to drop the hand that had been holding your head down to your hip. He stuck close to your back, occasionally pressing a kiss to the side of your neck, as you led him to your bedroom, Chan trailing behind him. Once in your room, his nerves came back, though it didn’t seem quite as much. He turned you around so he could kiss you again, then gently led you backwards until your knees hit the edge of your bed and you dropped down onto it.

Chan didn’t say a word, barely made any noise, letting this encounter unfold as just the pair of you. He moved to sit in the chair you’d put in front of the large window in your bedroom and relaxed back into the cushions, content to just watch.

Hyunjin bent over you, cupping the back of your neck and tilting your head back to give himself better access to your neck. Once again trailing soft kisses down your neck, he slowly shifted to force you to lean back on your elbows, placing a knee between your thighs as he did. He pulled back slightly to look at you as he slid his hand under the hem of your shirt. You nodded, sitting up just enough to help him lift your shirt over your head. He leaned back in, pressing you all the way onto your back this time.

Unhurriedly, but in relatively short order, Hyunjin had you completely stripped under him. At some point, you weren’t really sure when or how you didn’t notice, he’d stripped himself too. At his urging, you shifted around so you were laying back against your pillows, legs splayed wide so he could lay between them. With a pleased smile, he followed you, pressing a few kisses to your belly.

Hyunjin’s hand slid up your inner thigh, fingertips dragging just enough to tickle and make you squirm. He lifted his lips from your belly long enough to look up at you with a smile when you giggled. You sighed in pleasure with his fingers finally brushed over your folds, pausing to gently flick you clit with the pad of his thumb. Watching your reactions, he slid a finger up and down you’re your folds, parting them then dipping a finger into your pussy. Your head tipped back against the pillow as he slowly started thrusting into you.

You looked to Chan who smiled and winked at you but was still fully dressed, man spreading on the chair and with a noticeable tent in his jeans.

You moaned low in your throat when Hyunjin added a second finger, easily sliding it in along side the first. He continued softly kissing your belly, the light, sweet touches turning you into a puddle of goo. You carded your fingers through his hair, thinking you could be content with just these light, simple touches for hours.

You’re somewhat surprised to feel the coil of an orgasm building in your belly already. As if sensing what you only just started feeling, Hyunjin bent down and flicked his tongue over your clit. He batted the sensitive buddle of nerves around with his tongue until he felt you clench around his fingers and groan out his name.

As you come down, you glanced over at Chan at the sound of a belt being undone to see he was finally stripping himself. Once naked, he sat back in the chair, making no move to join the pair of you or to actually touch himself.

Between your legs, Hyunjin grinned up at you. You tugged his hair, making him lift himself up so you could kiss him. He pulled his fingers out of you, sliding his hand up your belly and pressing his palm on your sternum as you reclaim his lips. With a small smile to yourself, you hooked a leg over his and used the leverage and surprise to flip the pair of you. You giggled again, this time at the surprised look on his face. Looking down at his cock, steadily leaking precum, part of you wanted to taste him, but you wanted to feel him buried inside you more in that moment.

You straddled Hyunjin’s hips, a hand pressed to his abs to help you balance, the other hand wrapped around his cock. Slowly, giving yourself time to adjust as you went, you sank down onto him. You sighed in pleasure and watched his eyes roll back in his head as you rolled your hips once fully seated. His hands slid up your thighs to grip your hips, fingertips digging into your flesh hard enough you felt pretty sure there’d be small bruises. All the nervousness that had been lingering in his eyes, vanished as he looked up at you.

Steadily, with help from Hyunjin, you rolled your hips building up a rhythm. Sliding a hand up your back, he pushed you forward a little, just enough that he was able to lean up and wrap his lips around a nipple. Your hips faltered for a second as your head dropped forward with a groan. Behind you, on the chair, you could hear the sounds of Chan stroking his cock. You stayed leaning forward, bracing both hands on Hyunjin’s chest, lifting your hips now instead of rolling to give him a better view. The new motion and position put a wonderful amount of pressure on your clit. Added to it, Hyunjin brought a hand up to tease which ever nipple he didn’t have in his mouth.

For just a second, you reflected on how well all the guys treated you so far, always seeking out and paying attention to the areas that gave you pleasure. Not that you were surprised they were just as sweet to you sexually as they were in every day interactions. But still, they all seemed to focus on your pleasure more than their own. Or at least, it felt that way.

Then you lost that train of thought as his free hand slid between your bodies, quickly finding and rubbing circles against your clit. You gasped, digging your fingernails into his pecs as the orgasm that had been building crashed through you, Hyunjin’s name falling from your mouth like a litany prayer. Your hips slowed, then stilled as you came down from your high. Then you relaxed your arms, dropping to rest on his chest.

“Still good?” Hyunjin confirmed.

“So good.”

“Good.” He gripped your hips, lifting you slightly, and started thrusting up into you. The motion and pressure on your clit, not to mention the perfect thrusting against your g-spot, had you quickly building to another orgasm. Your moans with every thrust were somewhat muffled against his skin, but you were fairly sure he could still hear them. Giving into the impulsive thought that often crept into your mind when you watched him dance and definitely did now, you leaned up a little and licked a long stripe up his sweaty neck.

He groaned at your action, planting his feet so he could thrust up faster. With another, longer groan, and one last deep thrust, Hyunjin stilled as he came inside you. The feeling of his cum filling you, and his cock twitching against your g-spot, triggered your third orgasm, causing you to clench around his softening cock and pulling a small whimper from him.

After a minute or so, you slid off him, flopping onto the bed beside him.

“Hey baby, you got one more in you?” Chan smiled down at you, slowly stroking his cock. You had no idea when he’d gotten up from his chair, but you frankly could not care less.

“Absolutely,” you reached for him, but made no move to actually get up. He chuckled, moving to lay between your legs and claim your lips for the first time since you’d gotten home. You hummed into the kiss, lifting one leg to hook it over his hips and pull him firmly against your body.

It was not the first time he’d had you after someone else had come inside you – nearly every morning that Jeongin wanted a morning quickie, Chan decided he did too. But, as he slid inside you, the obscene feeling of someone else’s cum, Hyunjin’s this time, oozing out around his cock delighted you the way it always did.

“Fuck,” he growled against your neck. “You looked so good on Hyune, baby.”

“Mm, felt so good too.”

Hyunjin, laying beside you, danced his fingers over your belly, tapping then drawing little patterns, seemingly content to just be there but not actually add any stimulation. With a smile, you reached for his hand, pulling it to your lips and pressing small kisses on each of his fingertips, then setting his hand back on your belly. With a content sounding hum, he leaned in to press his cheek to your shoulder, looking down your body so he could watch Chan thrusting into you.

“Oh God,” Chan groaned, leaning back a little and seeing both of you watching him. He sat himself up on his knees, sliding his hands slightly under your hips so he could left them up, changing the angle and causing your back to arch. His thrusts sped up, rocking your body and pulling nearly constant moans or little ahs from you. It was, Chan knew, one of your favorite positions at the end of the night. You didn’t have to do much, there was little to no pressure on your, at this point, overstimulated clit, he typically went deeper than he had before, and his cock slid against your g spot without hitting it directly.

With the practice of someone who knew your body well, Chan had you building to a fourth orgasm fairly quickly. When your walls started fluttering around him and you reached out to grip the arm of Hyunjin’s hand that was still on your belly, he knew you were close. He kept his pace steady, helping you ride the wave that was building then washing through your body. His name fell from your lips on a sigh, you clenching around him causing him to cum too, filling you completely.

Tired, but content and comfortable, you relaxed on your bed between Chan and Hyunjin. After a few quiet minutes, Hyunjin said, “I would like to try the dating option. I’m not sure if…. I mean, the constant sharing might be too much for me.”

“That’s okay,” you reassured him quickly. “If it is, or it starts to be, come to us and we’ll talk about what to do.”

As usual, Chan insisted on getting up and getting a shower. While the tub filled and you and Hyunjin quickly showered off so you could properly relax in that bath, Chan hurriedly stripped your bed, changing the sheets.

Cuddled in the bath, allowing the jets to soothe sore muscles, you were drifting off a little when Hyunjin asked, “What did you mean about Iyen-ah and Felix earlier?” You giggled before the pair of you gave him the shortened version of your previous encounters with the two of them.

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Taglist: @skzficpriv @strayk1ds143 @vegetablesarefuntables @imagine-all-the-imagines @yeetmylifeu @wolfo2027

#skz smut #stray kids smut #bang chan x reader #skz x reader #changbin x reader #han jisung x reader #felix x reader #seungmin x reader #skz ot8 x reader #lee minho x reader #hyunjin x reader #yang jeongin x reader

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midnight1nk · 3 months ago

Text

EPISODE CONCEPT #4

What if... SMG3 had the courage to confess his feelings for the real SMG4?

[more below cut]

For context, this is part two of my Episode Concept #3 [link], which many have asked for! @starcrossed-prince this is for you! (this is somehow longer than #3, holy shit.) Now, without further ado…

I promise.

He could never forget the feeling of tangible pixels leaving his arms. What once skin and clothes turned into mere 0’s and 1’s.

Those eyes, the ones he was willing to sink in its depths for hours, they cried. Of apology, of bittersweet farewell. He promised a lot of things, and one was to never let Four cry.

But it was never your Four.

At the time, a thousand thoughts passed through his mind. That this was simply a nightmare, or he had gotten too drunk. Or he ate a Wonder Flower by accident. Somehow, some way, this can’t be happening. He wanted to deny it all, but he knew. Why deny the truth when he fading away in your arms?

Goodbye, Three…

“SMG3?”

Three jumped at the mention of his name, turning to Tari who looked back at him with concern.

Tari: “Oh, sorry. Just wanted to know if you’re okay. You’ve been staring at Lil’ Spot for a while.”

He blinked at her, and then looked down at the gray-feathered duckling nestle in his cupped hands. Ah, yeah, he was.

SMG3: “I was just daydreaming, that’s all.” [*looks around, recalling where he was*] “It really is a nice place. It’s not far from the Showgrounds, right?” Tari, smiles: “Yep, I always like to come down here, it helps me clear my head. Plus, I get to hang around with the duckies!” SMG3: [*nods and with a finger, he soothes the duckling’s head*] “You were right before, I could use the fresh air.” “Eh, Tari, a little help here?”

Three looked across the way to see a couple of yellow ducklings climbing all over SMG4, who was standing by the edge of the lake. All over on his arms, his shoulders, under his blue cap. As Tari ran over to help, Four trying to not let any of them fall while giggling, tickled by their fluffy feathers.

Three began to smile, and perhaps he could let his heart feel that missing warmth.

Have courage.

But the cautious part of him didn't let him. He should've known better, he apologized to his heart.

Not yet.

Four and Tari came back with the tamed ducklings lined up in their arms.

SMG4: “If I spent a little more time with these little guys, they're gonna think I’m their mom.” SMG3, hums: “You always did have a thing for being the center of the universe.” SMG4: “Hey, it's not like I do it on purpose.”

And yet, you managed to become mine. But Three kept that thought to himself.

Tari: “It's getting late, and I told Meggy I was making dinner tonight. I should probably get them back to their mother.” SMG4, handing the ducklings from his arms to hers: “Yeah, we should head home, SMG3.”

Three said goodbye to Lil' Spot before handing the duckling to Tari, who promptly went to drop them off and returned. While Four was distracted, folding up the picnic blanket, Three leaned towards Tari while keeping an eye on Four.

SMG3, whispered: “Tari, could you please do a simulation check?”

Tari looked at him, her concern reflecting once again. He has asked that everyday. Any chance he was with her, it was the same. The first few times, she tried assuring him, telling him, “It's okay, SMG3. There's no need, you’re safe now.”

But it never seemed to calm his nerves. As much as she wanted to protest, she knew that it wasn't an unreasonable exaggeration. Whatever the simulation did to him must've been really horrible for him not to tell anyone what happened. To think he was back.

Tari nodded and programmed a command on the floating screen projecting by her arm. A window popped up saying, No detection of simulation.

Tari: “All clear.” SMG3, letting out a sigh of relief: “Thanks. I owe you one.” Tari, letting out a small smile: “No worries, we’re your friends after all. Though, I wouldn't mind having one of your cookies again once you’re healed.” SMG3: [*chuckle*] “That I can do.” SMG4, swinging the backpack over his shoulder: “Alright, ready to go?”

SMG3 nods. After saying goodbye to Tari, SMG4 pushed SMG3’s wheelchair on the path towards the Showgrounds.

It’s been over a month since Three was freed from the simulation. The Crew wasted no time bringing him to the hospital. The rest, well, it seemed like a blur. To Three at least. The doctors and nurses, what they said, he never caught it. He was lucky that his friends were there to remember for him. Three wasn’t exactly sure what to feel. Should he grieve? Should he be grateful that the Crew found him and his son?

What he did know was the promise that he kept.

The Crew was naturally relieved to see he was in good hands, but anyone could tell that they were exhausted from the stress of the search. So, while Three was going through recovery, they took turns watching over him. The rest, who didn't have the shift, took the chance to rest.

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

One night, Tari and Saiko were walking down the quiet hospital hall, Saiko holding a gift bag and Tari a duffle bag with colorful patches all over it.

Tari: “Do you think SMG3 will like the card?” Saiko: “He’s a big softie on the inside, of course he will. Let's just hope we can pry SMG4 away from him.” Tari: “You can't exactly blame SMG4. I mean, don't you remember? He didn't sleep for days, or even eat. He was worried sick.” Saiko: “But he needs rest too, not just us. SMG3 is rescued, he should let us take care of it, if he wasn't so stubborn.” Tari: “Well, that nurse did say SMG3 would be better soon. Maybe we convince SMG4 this time.”

They reached to Three's room, but they found an unexpected sight when they opened the door:

Four fell asleep on the chair beside the bed, his head resting on Three’s lap like a pillow. A sleeping Three had a hand gently on Four’s hair with all the tenderness and quiet reassurance in the world. What was free, their hands were intertwined. It was certainly a rare sight, and they seemed so at peace with each other.

Tari and Saiko shared a glance, a gentle smile.

Tari: “Aw, that's so cute.” [*snaps a picture for the group chat*] Saiko: “C’mon, let’s them be.”

Saiko tiptoed into the room and left the gift bag on the nearby table. Peering at them one last time, she gently closes the door. They could always come back tomorrow.

There, what awaited in the gift bag, were reminders of home. A bomb from his cafe, a mini-plush of Eggdog, a record of jazz music. A homemade card, one side filled with heartwarming messages and the other a drawing of all the Crew with the Castle in the background, one of the best works Melony has ever done.

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

SMG4: “I bet I can drink a thousand cans of Monster Energy.” SMG3: “Nah uh! You’re lucky I can’t drink that stuff yet because I would’ve totally beaten you!” SMG4: “Oh, really? Well, I can’t wait to see you try.”

The two laughed as they reached the Castle. Eggdog greeted them at the door, happy to see his dads (And yes, I know what I said, shh) after Three's physical therapy session and jumped into his dad’s arms for a quick hug. Beeg4 slowly followed his brother, only letting out a pufferfish noise as a small “hello”. He isn’t usually the affectionate type. Four went to get Three’s customized cane leaned against the wall, and helped Three get to his feet. (The cane was a gift from the Crew but Bob was the one who added neat little secrets for Three to use. Though, Bob wants it to be off the record that it isn’t because he’s gone soft or anything.)

Ever since Four proposed the idea for Three to stay at the Castle, this has become second nature for them. They switched out the wheelchair with the cane at home so Three would be more comfortable walking around. Plus, he would usually hold Four’s arm to lean on. After his physical therapy appointments, Four would cook up dinner for the whole family. Or see if there’s any leftovers or takeout on special occasions. Three recently got the approval to eat solid food again, and Three couldn't be more glad. He was honestly getting sick of the same old soups day after day. Well, even if they tasted good. And they all sit at their usual seats at the table, not that they assigned seats or anything. It felt natural.

And today was pizza night.

SMG3: “Y’know…” SMG4, setting the pizza down: “No.” SMG3: “Oh, c’mon. You haven’t even tried it, you big baby.” SMG4: “And I already know that your ‘Ultimate Pizza’ is a disgrace to culinary art. To your tastebuds. Who the hell puts baked beans on pizza?” SMG3: “Well, Eggdog likes it.” Eggdog, helping set the plates: [*happy bark*] SMG4: “Oh, so now you’re bringing the kids into this? C’mon, Beeg, help me out here.” [Beeg doesn’t respond] [*acts dramatically, like someone stabbed him in the heart*] “I’ve been betrayed. Pleh.” SMG3, shakes head amusingly: “Shut up and eat, idiot.” SMG4: “Yeah, well, you’re stuck with me.” [*taunting*] “Forever.” SMG3: “Oh no, whatever should I… do.”

He… said this before, hasn’t he?

SMG4, mouth full of pizza: “Uh, SMG3, you’re good?” SMG3: “Yeah yeah, I’m fine.” [*eats his slice somberly, looking away*]

Four kept his gaze on Three. He wanted Three to tell him what was in his mind. He wanted to reach out and hold his hand. Comfort him. They have been there for each other at the worst of times. At each other’s worst.

There were two things they shared with absolute certainty: (1) they’re both stubborn, and (2) they would put up a brave face for the people around them.

Four did, when he discovered Three and Eggdog missing from the cafe. He would put on a determined smile, telling the rest of the Crew that they would rescue Three. But he supposed they could see right through him. That he was crumbling. Three was the one who saved him when he went insane and was possessed by the demonic keyboard. How could he not be frustrated at the fact that he couldn’t do the same?

Biting into his pepperoni slice, Four thought to himself, if only there was a way to take away all the pain Three was feeling right now. If only Three would let go of the front he has and let him show his pain in front of Four. To let Four be his safe space.

There isn’t much he can do, other than to let Three come to him on his own terms. When he is ready.

After finishing up dinner and washing the dishes, they all went to Four’s room. Eggdog and Begg decided to play Jenga, Three sat on the bed scrolling through his phone, and Four went back to editing videos since there was a lot of catching up to do. The record player was playing jazz music, the LP cover was signed “To SMG3”. Three bobbed his head while Four hummed the notes, admittedly it was a great disc that they could both enjoy. After a while, Three reminded Four to take a break from the screen, to which Four immediately complied and sat next to Three.

SMG4: “How’s your legs?”

SMG3: “Tired. But not as bad as last time. Could you pass the pills?”

SMG4, grabbing the bottle and handing it to Three: “Well, you are getting better in today's therapy session. Just wait a bit more.”

When SMG3 grabbed his medication, they briefly touched. It normally wouldn’t mean anything, but there was a tingle. Of curiosity, of warmth. The two lightly blushed, which they quickly brushed it off. They sat in silence as Three swallowed the pills.

SMG3: [*held his jaw by the hand*] “Do you know what I miss the most?” [*looks at Four, who nods as a sign for him to go on*] “Dancing.”

Three didn’t lie, it was one of the things he loved to do. That, and one other reason...

After some thought, Four stood up from the bed. Three didn’t even notice until Four stood before him. Four cleared his throat, a tint of pink on his cheeks, and held out his hand.

SMG4: “Wanna dance?” SMG3: [*puzzled, looking at the hand to Four and back*] “SMG4, I think we should get you some glasses.” SMG4: [*amusingly rolling his eyes*] “’It doesn’t have to be perfect.’ Isn’t that what you always told me?” SMG3: [*starstruck at the remembrance of this memory, lightly chuckled*] “And you dare to use my own words against me.”

Four helped Three up to his feet, his arms being his only support instead of the cane or wheelchair. At first, it was naturally awkward, being that Three is still recovering. Their dancing, if you would even call it that, was more of them shuffling their feet around the floor. They didn’t care.

Fly me to the moon Let me play among the stars

Slowly, they melted in each other’s embrace. Oh, how easily it was to be lost in the other’s eyes, pools of ruby and sapphire. Secretly, they wished they could be like this forever.

Let me see what spring is like On Jupiter and Mars

In the back of Three’s mind, alarm bells were ringing loudly. It isn’t real. He just wants to be friends. Somehow, Three ignored it all the moment Four gave him a smile.

In other words, hold my hand In other words, darling, kiss me

What Three didn’t know, Four was lost in his own mind. The romanticist that he is, he’s freaking out in the inside like a high school girl. It felt like a scene in the romcom movies he watches. But it was real. Three taught him how to give second chances. Perhaps there was a chance now.

Fill my heart with song Let me sing forevermore

Three ran his fingers on Four’s sleeve. It’s real. He’s real.

You are all I long for All I worship and adore

His shooting star, his sweet prince.

In other words, please be true

His hope.

In other words, I love you

As the song ends, the two came to a stop, but they didn’t part. Once again, they were lost in each other’s world.

SMG3: “…We’ve stopped.”

SMG4: “We did? Then, why is a room still spinning?”

Being so close to the other man, the tension was high. Have courage.

Even then, it wasn’t enough. He’s not your Four. Three cleared his throat, looking away before any temptation got hold of him.

SMG3: “I’m… pretty tired, SMG4.” SMG4: “Oh, yeah. Sorry.” [*reaching to hand Three his cane, hiding his disappointment*] SMG3: “Thanks anyway.” [*walks out the door, preparing to go to bed*]

SMG4 stayed where he stood, his heart skipped a beat. It felt like a dream. He danced with his… Well, ‘friend’ was never the right word for him to label Three. Partner? Maybe.

Crush. Yeah… that sounds about right. Ever since Four was saved by Three, he never looked at their relationship the same way. “Just friends” was the stability for the longest time. The “safe” term. And yet, it was selfish to wish for something more. So much so that Four had dreams of a domestic life with Three. Holding hands, to lean to his touch. To…

Four shook his head. Three didn’t seem ready, or even interested. It was just part of his imagination and nothing more.

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

The concrete halls were dark, cold by the touch. All was silent except for the dripping coming from an overhead pipe leak. Light shined through, daring the shadows to confrontation.

They didn’t think they’d be back, but here they were.

Mario, Meggy, and Saiko walked down the abandoned building, remembering their way to a specific room.

Meggy: “We’re getting close, guys. Keep your eyes peeled.” Saiko: “I seriously don’t see the point of us coming back here. Whoever did this is long gone.” Meggy: “Tari was telling me how SMG3 was, and… Look, whoever did this really messed him up. But they must’ve had some big plan for them to involve SMG3 in something. We gotta figure out what it was.” Saiko: “If you think it’s gonna help, fine. Like I said, I’m only here as backup.”

Finding the right door, they entered what was once the simulation room. The group split up and searched for any clues.

Saiko: “Looks like they didn’t come back here.” [*examines the monitor and finds a file of plans in creating the simulation*] Meggy: [*picks up the simulation machinery*] “It’s completely busted. Find anything, Red?” Mario: “No.” [*trips over a hidden box, spilling its contents*] “Ow, my ass.” Meggy: “Are you alright?” Mario: [*rubbing his head*] “Yeah.” [*looks at what he tripped over*] “Hey, I found SMG3’s clothes!” Saiko: “Clothes?”

Indeed, there was a pair of black overalls, a dark blue long-sleeve, and a familiar cap. Meggy picked up the cap, spinning it in her hands. Seeing the “M” emblem, she recognized it immediately. SMG3 wore this getup before the redesigns, and she knew why the “M” was attached.

Meggy: “The Youtube remote. They were trying to make SMG3 into a villain again.”

Mario and Saiko exchanged a glance, seeing the situation at hand. To force Three into a villain again…

Saiko: “You guys get out of here.” Mario and Meggy: “What?” Saiko: “The simulation machinery may be destroyed but it doesn’t mean another one can’t be built.” [*presents the file to them*] “That person’s going to come back and get their things, maybe continue with their plan. They already hurt one of us, it can’t happen again. You guys get out of here, I’ll take care of it.”

Mario and Meggy looked at each other before giving a nod. Saiko was right, the culprit always comes back at the scene of the crime after all. The two left, leaving Saiko alone in the room. She picked up a lighter and lit the file blueprints, watching these plans of cruelty burn to a crisp. She was lucky to buy one of Three’s bombs just for a moment like this. She lit up and ran out, letting the explosive destroy it all. The clothes, the plans. The building itself. Every single bit to a crisp.

No one messes with the Crew. No one.

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

“Three?”

SMG3 opens his eyes, widening as he recognizes his surroundings. The white void.

SMG3: [*heavy breathing*] “No, no, no.”

He turned his heel, ready to run, when he was stunned to see…

SMG3: “…SMG4?” SMG4: “God, you really are pathetic.”

Three is left stunned.

SMG4: “I mean, did you really think I had feelings for you? I’m only taking care of you because I feel bad.” [*walks over to Three*] SMG3: “I thought—” SMG4: “Oh, you thought? Please, get a grip on what’s real here.” [*harshly grabbed onto Three’s arm*] Villains don’t get happy endings.” SMG3: “Four, you’re hurting me. Stop it. Just stop!”

Suddenly, Four went limp, starting to fall over.

SMG3: “Four!” [*catching him*]

Three turns Four over to see his face half of it was pixelated, fading away.

SMG4?: “You… couldn’t keep your promise.” SMG3: “No… I… I’m trying. I really am.” Digital SMG4: “I got a chance to live, to experience love of all things.” [*his voice quickly distorting*] “And you ruined it all.” SMG3: “No, it’s not true. It’s not!” Digital Four: “Why, Three? Why did you have to be so cruel?”

In that moment, Four faded away, its code in the wind.

SMG3: “No, no no!”

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

SMG3: ”NO!”

Three jolted up from the bed. A hand clutching at his shirt, he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Four, who slept right next to his partner, also woke up.

SMG4: “SMG3. Three. It’s okay, that dream isn’t real. It’s not real.” [*his hands gently cradled Three’s face*] “Easy, easy, easy.”

Three finally came to his senses, grounded by Four’s reassurance. His heavy breathing settled until his panic was no more.

SMG4: [*his thumb caresses the other’s cheek*] “See? It’s okay. I’m here. I’m here.”

From the calmness and comfort of his hands, Three leaned into his touch. What he dreamed of, that wasn’t his Four. They stayed like this, the air becoming heavy. Until Three reached to grab Four’s hand from his cheek, but he didn’t shoo the other man away.

SMG4: “Three…” SMG3: “I can’t. Sorry…”

SMG4 sighed, once again unable to reach him. But there still had to be a way to help Three.

SMG4: “Hey, do you think you can sleep again?” SMG3: [*shakes his head*] “No.” SMG4: [*gets up from bed and grabs Three’s shoes*] “C’mon, I wanna show you something.”

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

Three had no idea where Four was taking him, but here they were: walking through the woods still in their pajamas, in hoodies, and shoes. They weren’t in a rush but Four was seemingly eager to show him this mystery. He looked at Four without the other noticing.

Me, the Crew, everything, it's an exact copy of the real thing.

The Four in the digital world was a mere copy. But even a copy could never show him what he was about to see:

Beyond the woods, there was a field of white flowers. Open to the beautiful stars above. The two sat down and looked at the view.

SMG4: “Whenever I get a nightmare, I always come here. I just happened to stumble upon this place by accident. But it somehow clears my head. Especially after… the ‘perfect’ incident.” [*small chuckle*] “I guess there are some things we can't get over.”

Three looks at him, hanging on to every word.

SMG4: “I care a lot about you, SMG3. More than you could ever realize. But it hurts to see when you’re trying to keep it all together. I know that feeling all too well. I can’t force you to tell me what happened in the simulation, but know that whatever happens, I’ll be here for you.”

Their hands got closer together. Their pinkies touched, they noticed but didn’t show.

SMG3: “I don’t know if you should. All the people I care about don’t stay for long. I’m unlikable, SMG4. I’m a villain and always will be.” SMG4: [*shakes head*] “You’ve changed. Besides, I like you. All of you.” [*their pinkies intertwined*] SMG3: “Four…” SMG4: “No, I’m not going to change my mind. I won’t leave you. Whatever you wish me to be, I will be it. A friend, a partner. Someone you can talk to. Anything.”

The air felt heavy once again, and everything became a blur. The silent wind passed through their hair. Have courage.

SMG3: [*gulping*] “…Then, let me ask: are you real?”

A free hand from Four held the other’s face.

SMG4: [*briefly looking at Three’s lips*] “As real as you want me to be.”

Whatever stopped him several times before, Four cut those ties loose. He leaned forward, his eyes slowly closing. He was patient and ready to see if Three would reject him. But Three didn’t and let Four close the gap.

A soft kiss, it was brief. It was tender. It was real.

Three kissed back, letting the other know he reciprocated. They parted for a moment, waiting for the other to make a move.

SMG3: “Then, be true for me.”

They went for a second kiss, this time with passion and longing. This. This cleared every doubt they had before. Their insecurities, whatever held them down. Three wrapped his arms around Four’s neck while other did the same, around Three’s back. If this was a dream, screw it, let them dream. This time, nothing was going to take it away from them.

A single tear rolled down Three's cheek. It's been a while, hasn't it?

SMG3, talking in between kisses: “I love you, Four. I always have.” SMG4, doing the same: “I love you too, Three. I wanted you for so long.” SMG3, parting from kiss: [*laugh*] “Oh? Did you now?” SMG4, turning bright red: “Uh.. c’mon, dude, don’t ruin the moment. It’s not my fault you’re attractive.” SMG3, mischievously leaning to Four: “Really?” SMG4: “Shit.”

Three nuzzled into Four’s neck, kissing all over and leaving Four laughing at how ticklish it was.

SMG4, bursting in laughter: “Three, s-stop!” SMG3, whispered: “Glad to know I wasn’t the only one who thought the same.”

Oh, how wonderful was it to listen to the sounds Four makes.

His shooting star, his sweet prince.

His Four.

After a while, the two catch their breath. They leaned onto each other, held hands, and looked back at the stars.

SMG4: “I promise I’ll be true for you.” [*gave Three's hand a squeeze*] SMG3: [*hums, returning the gesture*] “Well then, I’ll do the same for you.”

Three held many promises, one was to never let Four cry. Now, there was another: to be his truest self.

#smg4 #smg4 smg3 #smg34 #smg43 #smg3 x smg4 #ink episode concepts

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