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kookslastbutton · 2 months

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Guilty Pleasures ༓ jjk, kth (m) | chapter iv

✑ Summary: Three years of being Seoul's power couple earns you nothing but a big fat divorce settlement and your face plaster on every gossip column around town. You're angry, hurt, and desperately want to move on, but worst of all? You're still in love with the man who started the whole mess, even though the most he can ever see you as is a friend. The renowned actor you've hired to be your company's new endorser seems to have a soft spot for you though. He's easy on the eyes, you'll admit, but who actually wants a divorcee like yourself? It's unrealistic really.

pairing: ex-husband ceo!jungkook x ceo!reader, actor!taehyung x ceo!reader (not poly)

genre/AU: angst, smut, fluff, loverstoexesto ?, coworkers2?, unrequited love

Word count: 11.3k

Warnings: oc and jk are both 30, Taehyung is 32, swearing, tornado of emotions (you might laugh, you might cry, and you might just wanna punch something after this chapter), morally grey characters, mentions of toxic relationships, mentions of broken home/families, mentions of therapy, struggles of self-blame, regret, guilt, denial, self-deprecation in some aspect, etc., mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of sexism in the media and business world

playlist: Unkiss Me, Apologize, Hate That I Love You, etc.

a/n: So, elephant in the room....how did this get past 11k when other chapters are significantly shorter? Well...I had ideas? I'm sorry!! 🫠 ANYWAY more angst in this chapter. Sorry not sorry for what you will consume here. I honestly love this chapter so much though! Okay, I won't say any more bc spoilers are cool but not in my fic! (hehe) Enjoy! 🥰

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Numb.

It’s the only word you can rummage up to describe the sudden shift in your demeanor. You’d think one’s typical response to their ex-husband’s drunken confession would be one of confusion, anger, hurt, or the like.

But you’ve gone stone cold instead, barely able to feel the steaming hot water that kisses your skin from within the tub. The room seems to have become a bit of a haze too, your vision blurring as you grip your cell phone in your hand.

The absurdity of it all—the man who handed you divorce papers now professing his love—feels like a cruel joke. The sheer impossibility of the situation is almost laughable, yet you can't even bring yourself to do that at this point. You've exhausted all of your emotional resources.

You’re unsure how many seconds pass before his voice calls your name again.

“__? Are you still there?” His voice is a muffled echo in your mind. It sounds so far away, though you know he’s right here on the other end of the line.

"Honestly Jungkook…I don’t know what you expect me to say.” The words come out slow, measured, and almost emotionless.

There's a pause, and when he speaks again, his voice is hoarse, cracking under the weight of his confession. "I guess—I'm not sure either. But I just needed you to know. I needed to tell you everything."

“You're drunk. You realize that, right?"

“I had a few beers, yeah," he admits. "Maybe I'm a little tipsy. But it doesn’t change the fact that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you lately. I miss you, __, a lot."

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, you’re back in the past, back when those words would have meant the world to you. But now, they feel hollow, devoid of the warmth they once carried. And how can they not? You tethered yourself to your ex-husband for three years, learned his patterns, became acquainted with his needs, and danced with his indifference. In the end, the result is always the same, and this time is no different. By morning, he'll likely forget everything he's ever said to you and return to his normal habits.

You take a deep breath, your head resting on the cool porcelain tub, and close your eyes. "I can’t do this," you say quietly. "Not now."

"It's late. I understand-"

"No," you interrupt, voice firmer, "you don't understand, Jungkook. You don't understand me and you never have. I'm hanging up now."

"Please don't. I know I've hurt-"

"Stop. Do you know how patronizing that sounds to me? Please don't call this number again."

"But... I love you, __," his voice is barely a whisper. "Do you not love me anymore?"

"Goodbye, Jungkook." You end the call before another word can drop from his lips, or yours for that matter. It's time you accept that you are never more than an impulsive decision, a temporary solution, and an item on his agenda. Tonight's conversation solidifies that for you.

Despite being sleep-deprived the next morning, you refuse to let fatigue keep you from fulfilling your promise to visit Taehyung at the hospital. You've been anxious about him all night, tossing and turning without respite. The weight of your ex-husband's drunken confession added to your restlessness as well. Nevertheless, you push it out of your mind as you bound out the front door.

Upon arrival, you are greeted by an abundance of flowers, cards, and thoughtful gifts scattered around Taehyung’s hospital room. One bouquet on the windowsill catches your attention in particular—its familiar scent of lavender is instantly recognizable.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” a voice says from behind you. You turn to see Dr. Min entering the room, Taehyung’s chart in hand. He seems more lively than last night, his expression noticeably brighter with a faint smile on his lips.

“Yes, they’re lovely,” you reply. “I’m guessing these are from Taehyung’s fans and colleagues?”

He nods. “Indeed. Lavender is a calming scent. It’s no wonder people chose it for him.” The corners of his mouth lift slightly before he continues, “My girlfriend loves it too. She says it helps her relax after a long day.”

The comment is unexpected yet sweet. You notice the suppressed grin and the warmth in his eyes easily, signaling his deep affection for her. You wonder how it must feel to love someone so purely and without restraint. Before the thought lingers, your gaze shifts involuntarily to the man on the hospital bed, still asleep. Though the bandages are gone and his breathing is stable, your concern deepens as you take in his nearly still form.

“How’s he doing?” you ask, moving closer to his bed. Your heart tightens with each step as the cuts and burns on his face become more visible.

“He’s lucky,” Dr. Min says, walking to the opposite side of the bed, his tone growing serious. “He has multiple rib fractures, a mild concussion, and a few burns, but it could have been worse. Taehyung is stable now, and we’re monitoring his progress closely.”

“How long will it take for him to heal?”

“His face burns are only second-degree, so they should heal in a couple of weeks. The concussion should also resolve with ample rest and by avoiding strenuous activity—both physical and mental.”

“Which means he won’t be able to act for a while?” you ask, reading between the lines.

“Afraid not,” Dr. Min dismisses the idea. “Hopefully, his projects can accommodate his absence.”

“What about his rib fractures? I imagine those will require the most attention.” You feel like you might be asking too many questions, knowing Dr. Min will likely need to repeat everything to Taehyung later, but you can't hold back. After all, you made a promise to yourself last night that you'd ensure he'd be alright.

“Yes," Dr. Min answers carefully, "they could take up to three months to fully heal. We recommend applying ice for 20 minutes at a time, several times a day. As long as he remains stable over the next few days, he can be discharged to continue his recovery at home." He pauses, allowing you to process the information before continuing. "It's crucial that he rests. Even if he feels bursts of energy, he needs to let his body heal. Light activities like breathing exercises and short walks are fine, but he should avoid intense exercises until we give the all-clear.”

You nod thoughtfully, absorbing Dr. Min’s detailed prognosis. Taehyung’s condition sounds serious but manageable. After such a traumatic accident, it's clear he'll need months to heal. Getting him to adhere to the doctor's orders will be challenging, given his profession and active social calendar. However, if you need to be the one to remind him, you will.

“I’ll make sure he follows your recommendations,” you assure Dr. Min, your voice tinged with concern.

“I have no doubt,” Dr. Min replies with a reassuring smile. “You know, you're the first person who’s shown up for him both last night and today. Aside from that young man who came in briefly. Namjoon, right?”

“Yeah,” you respond slowly, the revelation catching you off guard. “He works as my secretary but he's also a good friend of Taehyung's. His family really hasn’t come in yet?” You circle back to Dr. Min's first point with a sense of urgency.

You wouldn't normally be this insistent on the matter; however, past conversations with Taehyung have revealed how much he cherishes his family, often sharing stories about their reunions with warmth and enthusiasm. With such a loving family, you’re taken aback that they haven’t shown up yet. Then again, his accident was sudden, and there could be various reasons for their delay. Do they even know about his accident, for that matter?

“They called, of course, but you’re the first to actually come in,” Dr. Min clarifies, his gaze thoughtful as he responds to your concern. "You must be quite an attentive boss to show this level of care for your colleague."

There's an underlying suggestiveness laced in his tone, but you're quick to brush it off, redirecting the focus to Taehyung’s condition. “It’s the least I can do, given what he’s going through,” you say, trying to sound matter-of-fact. “He’s a valuable member of our team, and I want to make sure he gets back on his feet as soon as possible.”

Dr. Min's eyes twinkle, as if holding back further commentary. “Even from a professional standpoint, not everyone would go to such lengths for a coworker. He’s fortunate to have you.”

You feel a slight flush as his subtle implications continue. “Well, I just…care about his well-being. Besides,” you glance back at Taehyung, your expression softening more than you intend, “I know he'd do the same for me.”

For a few short breaths, Dr. Min remains silent as your attention remains fixed on your colleague. “I need to check on a few other patients so I’ll leave you two alone for now," he finally says, breaking the silence. “I'll be back to check in on him again later, but if you have any questions or need anything in the meantime, the nurse is nearby."

With a nod and a soft "thank you," you watch Dr. Min exit the room, leaving you alone with Taehyung once more. After settling into a chair beside his bed, you silently observe the steady rise and fall of his chest. The rhythmic sound of his breathing is a small comfort amidst his vulnerable state. Despite everything, you're glad he's going to be okay.

As each minute passes, nurses come and go, and the hum of activity outside the room gradually fades into a background murmur. You had only planned to stay for an hour this morning, but time seems to slip away as the clock now nears 1 p.m. You had hoped Taehyung would be awake by now, but he remains still.

After a brief sigh, the thought occurs to you that you don't have to spend so many hours here, waiting for Taehyung to wake up. It's the weekend, and there are plenty of other things you could be doing instead. Dr. Min could easily call you the moment Taehyung wakes up. But something in your conscience urges you not to leave. Just give it another hour, you think. If he isn’t awake by then, you can come back tomorrow.

Suddenly, a slight movement catches your eye. Taehyung's fingers twitch, and his eyelids flutter. You nearly missed it with how lost you were in your thoughts.

Leaning forward with nervous relief, you softly call his name. It takes him a few seconds, but slowly, his eyes blink open. He turns his head slightly, gaze eventually finding yours, and you feel momentarily transfixed. It's unlike you to respond this way, but you had forgotten how piercing and comforting his eyes could be. A genuine smile immediately spreads across his face once your eyes meet, though not as boxy as usual due to his condition. Nevertheless, it's encouraging to see him awake and responsive.

“Hi," his voice is strained but recognizable. "It's...nice to see you."

“The feeling's mutual,” you respond gently. “How are you feeling?”

He shifts slightly, wincing a bit. “Like I got hit by a truck,” he mutters. “I’m sore all over.”

“You had a close call, but you’re in good hands now. Your doctor, Dr. Min, says you'll be okay, as long as you take it easy for a while. He was here earlier this morning, but he'll check in with you again soon.”

"You..." He hesitates, surprise flickering in his eyes. "You've been here since morning? What time is it now?"

"Oh, uh, it's around 1 in the afternoon," you say, gradually realizing the weight of your words. You consider whether or not to tell him the full extent of your stay. “I got here a few hours ago. Don’t worry.”

Taehyung nods slightly, a mix of gratitude and concern evident in his expression. “Thank you for being here,” he murmurs. “I wasn't sure if I'd be alone.”

A sinking feeling settles in your chest at his words, your throat tightening. Before you can ask what he means, he continues, “I must have taken a lot of your weekend from you.” His tone is apologetic, and your heart aches. Here he is, lying on a hospital bed, in pain and vulnerable, and he’s worried about inconveniencing you.

“I'm glad to be here,” you reassure gently. “I promise, you’re not alone. A lot of people care about you.”

Taehyung glances around, taking in the gifts and flowers scattered throughout the room. “From my fans, I’m guessing?” he asks, attempting to keep his tone light.

“And your colleagues too,” you reply. “We all want to see you get better." Taehyung returns his gaze to you, a faint smile lingering on his lips. Neither of you says anything, which unsettles you.

“Did you sleep okay?” you ask, the question coming out more hurriedly than intended.

“I drifted in and out for most of the night. It’s hard to get comfortable,” he admits, "I think I could still hear a lot around me. It felt like someone was holding my hand for a few minutes too, but I’m not sure how much of it was real or just dreams, though.”

Oh shit. You weren't expecting that answer.

The possibility that Taehyung might have heard you talking to him last night shouldn't be that embarrassing, yet your mind races with thoughts of what he might have heard or understood in his semi-conscious state. Not only did you share more than you probably should have, but you also touched his hand to feel his pulse, and he felt it.

“Well, um, I'm sorry to hear you had a rough night. You should rest more,” you suggest, trying to compose yourself. "I should get going anyway and let you sleep.” You begin standing from your seat but don't get far before the gentlest of touches brush against your wrist. When you look at Taehyung, he quickly retracts his fingers, concerned he overstepped.

"Shit, I'm sorry, __. I didn't mean to grab at you like that," he says softly. "It's just...would you mind staying with me a little longer, please? I'd really appreciate the company."

You can hear the yearning in his request. It's clear that he doesn't want to be alone, and you don't blame him, especially after the accident he's endured. Settling back into the chair, you agree to stay a bit longer, perhaps another half hour, before heading home; you realize you haven't eaten lunch yet.

"So, how are you doing?" he asks. "We haven't talked in bit."

His question triggers a flood of thoughts, the most recent interaction with your ex-husband being one of them. Up until now, you've managed to push his drunken call out of your mind, preferring to focus on Taehyung instead. However, Jungkook's unexpected confession still throws you for a loop. It's not that you're riddled with the need for clarity on its validity, especially since you don't believe him anyway. How could he claim to love you when he also admits he doesn't understand his own feelings? On top of that, being drunk while doing so—it doesn't make sense.

No, the real question now is what happens next. How do you proceed? Will he try to reach out again? The way he asked if you still loved him before you ended the call weighs on your mind even now.

You know you'll need to discuss this with Melody during your next therapy session.

Before you spiral further, you decide to steer the conversation away from personal matters and opt for a safer topic.

"The company is doing well," you reply with a smile. "The new campaigns we've put out recently have been pretty successful. Although," you add, a hint of curiosity in your tone, "the team has missed your frequent drop-ins, especially Namjoon." If you're honest with yourself, you've missed them too.

"How is he? Namjoon?"

"He's okay, but he's been concerned for you," you answer carefully. "When we heard the news, we came to see you together, but he was quite affected. He promised to visit once you woke up."

"So," Taehyung takes a moment to process. "That was this morning, right?"

"No, actually, it was yesterday."

There's a brief, awkward silence as you sense Taehyung might be thinking the same thing you are—about your presence last night. Surprisingly, he doesn't bring it up. Instead, he eyes you curiously, biting down on his lip slightly.

"I meant to stop by last week," he admits. "But we were wrapping up the final scenes of my film shoots. The producers were eager to finish them. I'm just thankful we got them done. I wanted to spend a day riding my bike along a scenic route until... well, until all of this happened. I don't remember much, but I'm just grateful Tan wasn't with me."

"Tan?" you ask, curious now.

"Yeontan, my pomeranian," Taehyung explains with a soft smile. "He means the world to me. My parents take care of him when I'm busy with filming. I was actually planning to drive up and visit them this weekend. And, of course, bring Tan back home with me. They live pretty far from here, so it's better that I go up to them if I can."

Well, that answers the question about his parents not being here yet, you think to yourself.

As Taehyung speaks, you can see a flicker of fondness and relief in his eyes when he mentions his dog. It must have been months since he last saw him.

"I bet you miss him a lot," you comment softly, "Tan."

"I do," he admits with a slight smile, "but I know he's being well taken care of. Hopefully, I can see him soon. And my parents too."

"I understand that feeling," you reply, nodding thoughtfully. "Pets have a way of becoming family, don't they? I had a cat named Evie when I was growing up. She was a feisty little thing with green eyes, always getting into mischief. We got her from the streets and she was so slim, but it didn't take her long to beef up with all the treats we gave her. Whenever I was feeling down, she would curl up next to me, as if she knew. It's funny how they have that kind of intuition, isn't it?"

Taehyung listens intently, a small smile playing on his lips. You feel a slight flush of embarrassment at your tangent. It's one of the few times you've shared something personal about yourself that wasn't work-related. Feeling like you might have overshared, you decide to stop, assuming Taehyung isn't interested in knowing that much.

You chuckle inwardly at yourself.

Jungkook was your husband for three years, and he never seemed to care about such personal details.

I—" you start, intending to apologize, but Taehyung interrupts.

"Did you have any other pets?" he asks, curiosity piqued.

You chuckle softly, reminiscing. "Yeah, we had... uh, god, you don't want to know how many pets we had."

"Try me," his eyes become playful, yet there's a seriousness behind them, like he really wants to know. It's unfamiliar.

"Alright," you chuckle, "aside from Evie, there were three other cats. Calvin and Misha were the adventurous ones, always climbing trees, while Pip was the cuddly lap cat. Then there were two dogs: Toby, our sneaky Chihuahua, and Bella, a terrier who growled at everyone. Oh, and we had three rabbits too. Cute, but also feisty."

Taehyung laughs, "I sense a theme going on."

"What theme?"

"Well," he grins, "It seems like your household was filled with some strong main characters."

You chuckle at his joke. "Yeah, our house was never quiet, that's for sure. Each one had their own personality and quirks."

"You don't have any now though? Pets, I mean," Taehyung asks.

"Sadly, I don't," you reply with a hint of regret. "The company takes up a lot of my time, and I don't think it would be right to leave a pet alone for extended periods. I might consider getting another cat, but right now, focusing on running the company leaves me with little spare time. I miss having them around though."

Taehyung mulls over your word carefully. “If I ever get out of this hospital...maybe I—”

Before he has the chance to finish, the hospital room door opens, and Dr. Min enters, his expression serious yet composed. His eyes widen slightly in surprise, not expecting to see you still here and Taehyung awake. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” he begins, glancing between you and his patient. “It’s good to see you up and looking a bit better."

Dr. Min approaches Taehyung's side, opposite to you. “How are you feeling?” he asks.

Taehyung's demeanor shifts instantly, his playful expression fading as he turns to answer. “Pretty sore, honestly,” he replies.

Dr. Min nods. “Let’s run a few checks to see how you’re doing.”

Sensing this is your cue to leave, you rise from your chair and reach out to touch Taehyung's hand. But you stop yourself short. Something about performing the physical action while he’s fully conscious instills a flutter of nerves within you. Instead, you gently tap his shoulder, causing him to meet your eyes. “I think I'll be going now, but it was nice talking to you,” you say softly. "Was there something you wanted to say earlier, though?"

He pauses for a moment before replying, his expression reminiscent of the time a few weeks ago when you declined his dinner invitation. You still don’t understand why he seemed somewhat disappointed; it's not like it was a date. He had made it clear he wanted to go out as colleagues. The only reason you declined was because you didn’t want him feeling pity for you, or the struggles that came with the divorce.

"It's okay, we'll have to save that conversation for another time," Taehyung's voice brings you back to the present. "Enjoy the rest of your day, __. Thanks again for staying with me."

"Of course," you reply, then turn to Dr. Min. "If you wouldn't mind letting me know when and if he can be discharged, I'd appreciate it. And Kim Namjoon too, since we're both nearby." Dr. Min nods in agreement. With that, you sling your bag over your shoulder and exit the room.

“He said what?!” Your best friend Jimin almost shouts through the video call, eyes wide with disbelief. You’ve just finished recounting your ex-husband's unexpected, drunken confession from the previous night. Jimin, who already holds a deep-seated grudge against Jungkook, looks livid.

“He had the nerve to say that to you? While he was drunk?” Jimin continues, his hands clenching into fists.

You nod, feeling a mixture of frustration and exhaustion. “Yeah, I told him not to call my number again and he hasn't contacted me since.” As expected, he likely forgot all about it.

“Good,” Jimin declares with a fierce protectiveness, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “You don’t need that kind of drama in your life, especially not from him. And if he even thinks about calling you again, just say the word, and I'll come down there and handle it personally.” He emphasizes 'personally' with such intensity that it makes you giggle for the first time tonight.

“Thanks, Jimin,” you say, a warm feeling spreading through you at his unwavering support. “I’m just trying to move on, focus on work, and other things.”

Jimin’s expression softens, and he nods firmly. “You're incredibly strong, __. Are you really okay though? It was a huge blow for him to make a confession like that and even though I dislike him, I know you still have some lingering feelings for him. I'm not a fool to believe you're unaffected.”

You take a deep breath, appreciating your best friend's perceptiveness. “It’s complicated. I’m trying so hard to move past everything, especially with Melody's help, and then he just…throws that at me. It’s like he’s trying to pull me back into his mess.”

Jimin’s eyes are filled with concern. “You don’t owe him anything. Remember that. He made his choices, and you have every right to move on without his baggage.”

“I know,” you sigh, rubbing your temples. “It’s just…easier said than done. But I’m working on it.”

“You’re doing great,” Jimin reassures, his voice gentle. “And you have every right to focus on yourself now. Don’t let him mess with your head.”

You nod, feeling a bit lighter with the support. “Thanks, I needed to hear that.”

“I'm always here for you love,” he says, his protective demeanor softening into a warm smile. “Now, enough about that idiot. How’s everything else? Work? Taehyung? Everyone at the office is talking about his unfortunate accident, poor sucker.”

At the mention of your colleague, you feel a sudden heat rise to your cheeks. Did the heaters in your apartment just turn up or something?

“He’s slowly recovering," you answer. "I saw him this morning and we talked for a bit. He’s... he’s been through a lot.”

Jimin raises an eyebrow, “You saw him yesterday too, right? And if my memory serves, you were at the hospital with him until the afternoon. I remember I texted you to see if you were free to call earlier than planned. Something you'd like to tell me?” A teasing grin suddenly spreads across his face, and you shake your head, knowing exactly what he's insinuating. It's like talking to Dr. Min all over again.

“Seriously, Chim, no, it's not like that," you deny instantly, heart racing a little. "He's been my company endorser for a little over six months now, and he’s been nothing but kind to me. With everything he’s been through, I just want to make sure he'll be okay. I feel somewhat responsible for him. Maybe I'm crazy.”

“Responsibility, huh?” Jimin smirks, unconvinced of your denial. “Sure. Because ‘responsibility’ usually makes people blush.”

You wave off his suspicions, a nervous chuckle escaping you. “I’m not, so if you wouldn't mind ceasing your teasing, that'd be great."

“Okay, okay,” Jimin chuckles, raising his hands in mock surrender. “But if you ask me, it sounds like more than just responsibility. Taehyung seems like a sweet guy, and you care about him. And I sense he feels the same way about you. Don't think I forgot about his little dinner request weeks back.”

You chuckle, brushing off his suspicions. “Oh, come on, enough. Believing that Kim Taehyung has any kind of interest in me is like believing that Jungkook loves me. It’s unfathomable. Taehyung's a colleague, that’s all.”

“Okay, excuse me? Unfathomable?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “Someone help! My best friend is selling themselves short, again. __, you’re amazing, and anyone, including Taehyung, would be lucky to have you. That ex-husband of yours was an idiot, but just because he couldn't see what he had doesn’t mean others can’t.”

You roll your eyes playfully, but Jimin’s words hit a soft spot. “Chim, you're sweet, but I'm just saying that Taehyung is on a completely different level. I’m just me... a 30-year-old divorcee with a half-decent startup.” Those alone are enough to have any man steer clear of you.

“Stop this, __. You're much more than that, and it's pretty damn incredible,” Jimin insists, his voice firm. “You’ve been through so much, and you’re still standing. That’s not something to brush off. Taehyung sees that. Anyone with half a brain can see that.”

You sigh, feeling a mixture of gratitude and skepticism. “I appreciate it, Chim. But let’s just drop it, please?”

“Alright, I won't push it," he concedes gently, "just know I’m here whenever you need.”

“Thanks, Jimin,” you reply, feeling a warmth in your heart. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Probably explode from all that bottled-up stress,” he jokes, making you laugh again. “But seriously, you’re doing great. Just keep taking it one step at a time, and call me if you need anything!”

As the call ends, you’re left with a lot to think about. Jimin’s words echo in your mind, and for a brief second, you find yourself wondering if maybe your best friend is right—that perhaps you do care about your colleague more than you’re willing to admit.

Well, either way, it doesn't matter; you've got enough on your plate as it is.

Starting with the stack of papers laid out on the coffee table, work you brought home that's awaiting your attention. It's a critical deal for your startup, one that could secure much-needed funding and propel your business to the next level.

Sighing softly, you reach for your laptop and open the latest project proposal.

You start your Sunday as you always do, with a book in hand, heading to your favorite café. It’s a ritual that’s been with you since your teenage years, and today, you feel a desperate need for its familiar comfort. After wrapping up the project proposal late into the night, your brain craved a break.

Entering the quaint café, you’re greeted by the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the soft murmur of conversation. Finding a cozy spot by the large window, you settle in for a day of reading, occasionally looking up to observe people passing by outside.

Hours slip away unnoticed in the serene atmosphere, lost in the pages of your book. Somewhere along the way, mid-sentence, your thoughts subconsciously drift to a conversation with Taehyung weeks before his accident—the day of your six-month anniversary.

You remember how he mentioned his interest in books that day, leaving you curious about what he enjoys reading. You imagine he might be into classic authors like Charles Dickens or Oscar Wilde. Then again, you might be mistaken.

Refocusing on your book, you manage to read another paragraph before thoughts of Taehyung intrude again. Did he have any company today? You quietly hope Namjoon paid him a visit. "Okay, __, calm down," you tell yourself, "Taehyung will be fine, and Namjoon definitely would have visited him now that he's awake." With a determined effort, you return to your book.

It isn't until the sun begins its descent that you decide it's time to pack up your things and head home. Passing by the hospital on your way, a sense of restlessness tugs at you once more. Should you stop and see Taehyung, even if only for a few minutes? The thought lingers, but then you recall Dr. Min's pending update on his discharge status. Maybe it's best to wait for his confirmation.

You continue driving, but the concern refuses to leave your mind. Eventually, you make a decisive turn, heading back towards the hospital. It wouldn't be as lengthy as last time—just a quick visit to check on how he's doing.

When you arrive at the hospital, you hesitate for a moment outside the entrance. It's Sunday evening, and visiting hours are likely limited. You check your phone quickly to see if Dr. Min has sent any updates, but there's nothing new.

Taking a deep breath, you decide to go in anyway.

Taehyung is awake when the nurse leads you to his room, casually flipping through a magazine. He looks up, his expression softening into a smile upon seeing you.

"Hey," you say softly, stepping inside. "I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by. I hope it's okay."

"It's more than okay," he replies warmly, setting the magazine aside. "I'm happy to see you."

You nod, feeling relieved that he isn't disturbed by your presence.

"Though, in all honesty," he continues, "I didn't expect you back today."

"I just wanted to check on you and make sure you're okay," you admit quietly, taking a seat nearby. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm better, just a bit sore still," he says sincerely, his gaze meeting yours. "What about you? How's your Sunday been?"

"Quiet," you respond with a small smile. "Spent most of it reading at a café, and then decided to stop by here."

"Really?" His interest piqued, he asks, "Which one? Sometimes I do the same thing when I have some free time. Or, I'll read at the beach too. It's relaxing."

"Well, have you tried the one on Willow Street? I've been a regular there since I was 16."

"No... I'm not familiar with that one," he admits, "I usually go to the one on 5th."

"5th? You know, I don't recall a café on 5th, unless..." you pause, realization dawning, "oh no," you blurt out unintentionally.

"What?" Taehyung's eyes twinkle with amusement at your spontaneous reaction. "Have you been?"

You hesitate to answer, not wanting to risk offending him.

"Yes..."

"And?" Crap, you were hoping he wouldn't ask for details.

"Um... it's okay," you reply simply.

"What? Just okay?" Taehyung exclaims, feigning offense. "Their coffee and tea are decent, and they have those comfy armchairs by the window."

"I know, but there's just something about it," you reply with a playful shrug. "Maybe it's the lighting, or maybe I'm just picky."

"Fair enough," he chuckles. "Maybe I'll check out this Willow Street café sometime. You've been going there for years, so it must be good."

"Well, I highly recommend it." You can't help but feel a bit smug, though you try to keep a straight face. It's just nice to have someone take your suggestion seriously. "You'll have to tell me your review of the place if you go."

Taehyung nods thoughtfully in reply, his gaze lingering on you with a hint of admiration. You look away, pretending to straighten your jacket. Why is he staring like that? You're not used to being looked at without some sense of hostility.

Just as you begin to feel a bit awkward, the door swings open, and a nurse peeks inside.

"Sorry to interrupt," she says kindly, "but visiting hours are over for the evening."

You glance at your watch, surprised at how quickly time has flown. "Oh, okay," you reply, a touch disappointed. "I'll be heading out then, thank you."

Once the nurse leaves, you direct your focus back to Taehyung. He smiles understandingly, sitting up a bit straighter. "Thanks for stopping by," he says warmly.

"Yeah, of course," you reply, gathering your things. "Did Dr. Min mention having you discharged any time soon?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing yet. Might be here for a couple more days."

You nod, feeling sympathy for his extended stay. "Well, take care of yourself, okay? Let me know if you need anything."

"I will," Taehyung assures you with a grateful smile. He watches as you make your way to the door, but just before you can twist the metal knob, he speaks up agian. "Uhm...if you have time tomorrow, I wouldn't mind if you came in again. It was nice to...chat."

For the first time, Taehyung seems to stumble over his words. As someone who's naturally charismatic, not to mention a skilled actor, there's a hint of nervousness in his voice.

When you turn your head to glance back at him, his smile has faded, replaced by a hopeful look, hands gently clutching the blankets.

"Sure," you agree to his innocent request, somehow unable to resist. "I'll try to stop in tomorrow if I can."

His boxy smile returns instantly as he bids you one final goodnight.

As you walk out of the room, that same smile lingers in your mind—you're glad you decided to come by.

In the days that follow, you find yourself at Taehyung's hospital bed every evening after work. Initially fulfilling his wishes, you gradually realize you've grown fond of his company. Taehyung turns out to be easy to talk to, a good listener who encourages questions you wouldn't normally ask within office walls. Here you are again, immersed in yet another spontaneous conversation that neither of you minds.

"So, what's it really like?" you inquire, curiosity lacing your voice. "Being an actor? And what about kissing strangers? I've heard some co-stars end up together after playing an onscreen couple for so long."

Taehyung chuckles softly, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "Being an actor is both exhilarating and challenging," he begins, reflecting on his experiences. "Kissing scenes... well, they're not as glamorous as they seem on screen. There are a lot of technical aspects to consider, like camera angles and timing. As for getting involved with co-stars outside of filming, I wouldn't be familiar with that. I prefer to keep those lines pretty separate."

You listen intently, fascinated by his insights into a world so different from your own. But one thing sticks out to you—how does he handle kissing scenes if he were to be in a relationship? Wouldn't that get complicated?

"I often wonder what I'd do if I had a partner," Taehyung muses suddenly, his voice thoughtful, as if sensing your unspoken question. "About the kiss scenes, I mean. I haven't actually dated for a while." Really? You think, he cant be serious...

"I'd imagine they'd be understanding since it's part of the job," you offer, trying to match his contemplative tone.

"Is that how you'd respond?" Taehyung's question catches you off guard.

"Me?" you ask, feeling slightly dumbfounded.

"Yeah, I'm just curious. Would you be okay with that?"

"Uhm... well, honestly, probably not," you admit, feeling a bit awkward. "I think I'd have a hard time wrapping my mind around it. I'd kind of feel like I was sharing my partner. I don't want to share like that."

Shut up, shut up, shut up, you mentally chastise yourself. You definitely said too much.

To your surprise, Taehyung merely gives a small smile in response. "I think I'd feel the same," he says softly.

The subject ends there, as the conversation soon shifts to his latest project instead—a romantic comedy series titled with a playful nod to a four-leaf clover.

"You know, I've never seen a four-leaf clover in my life," you admit with a slight chuckle.

Taehyung laughs softly, his eyes brightening. "Really? They're supposed to bring good luck, you know."

"Good luck, huh? I guess I've never had the pleasure," you replied with a grin.

"Well, then it's settled," he declared with a playful glint in his eyes. "I'll find one for you once I'm out of here," he promises warmly.

You smile, exchanging a silent moment before hitting him with your next question. "Do you watch your own shows or movies?" you ask, genuinely curious.

Taehyung's expression shifts subtly, his gaze momentarily distant. "Honestly, I don't," he admits, his tone tinged with a hint of embarrassment. "I guess I've always felt a bit awkward seeing myself on screen. It's strange, right?"

You reassure him with a smile. "It's not so far-fetched, but I don't think there's anything to be embarrassed about. You're talented, Taehyung. I'm sure your performances are amazing."

Taehyung nods thoughtfully but then quirks an eyebrow at you. "But have you actually seen any of my work? It's a little cheesy."

You hesitate, feeling a touch sheepish. "Honestly, no," you confess. "I've never watched any of your shows or movies. But I will!"

A flicker of déjà vu crosses Taehyung's face, his expression turning thoughtful. "That's funny," he murmurs. "I feel like I've heard those exact words before, recently."

You chuckle nervously, trying to lighten the mood. He can't be referring to that night you spoke to him while he was asleep, right? "Maybe it's just a sign that I need to catch up on all the great acting I've been missing out on," you quip, hoping to diffuse any awkwardness.

Taehyung grins, his playful demeanor returning. "Well, I'll hold you to that. You'll have to give me your honest review."

"Deal," you agree with a nod. "So, as much as I hate to cut this short, I think I'm going to have to get going now."

"I understand, it's past 6:30 pm. See you tomorrow?"

"Sure thing," you reply warmly. "Get some rest."

By Thursday afternoon, you finally receive the long-awaited call from Dr. Min, informing you that Taehyung will be discharged the next morning. You're relieved that Taehyung is healthy enough to continue his recovery at home. Seeing him yesterday, he looked the best he's been since his accident. However, a small part of you feels annoyed that Dr. Min didn't call you—he called Namjoon instead.

It was an ordinary afternoon when your secretary's phone rang. Namjoon was crouched over at his desk, concentrating on a number of spreadsheets just moments before. You remember leaping over to him as soon as you heard the words, "he's ready for discharge tomorrow," leave his lips.

It's now Friday morning, and you're standing in front of your secretary's desk.

"So, you're off to pick up Taehyung now?" you ask, as casually as you can. You do your best to ignore the lingering irritation growing inside you.

"Yeah," your secretary finally replies, glancing up from his screen. "I'll drive over to the hospital in about half an hour."

"Okay." You nod, biting your tongue. So what if Namjoon gets to pick him up instead of you? It's fine, you should get over it.

It's just a little odd that Dr. Min chose to call Namjoon instead of you though. You know for a fact you've been much more involved with Taehyung's well-being than he has.

Of course, Taehyung and Namjoon are good friends, but your secretary has only gone to see him twice over the past week his buddy's been in the hospital. You've been there every day, so wouldn't it make sense that you be called first?

Evidently not.

Namjoon will be taking Taehyung home, and you likely won't be seeing him at all today. In fact, you're not even sure when you'll see him next. Technically, you have his address stored away in an HR file, but you're no creep. And you most certainly are not about to show up at his place unannounced.

It's not like Taehyung has texted you today either. Not even a quick update on his condition.

"Um..." Namjoon starts, shifting awkwardly in his chair. "Is there something else you wanted to say? I feel like you're kinda hovering over me now, to be quite honest."

"Oh, sorry," you respond, stepping back a bit. You didn't realize you were staring at him, wordless, for longer than normal. "Nothing else. Drive safe."

As if seeing right through you, Namjoon's expression softens. "If you want to see how Taehyung is, you can just text him. I'm sure he'll respond to you."

"No, it's okay," you quickly dismiss the suggestion. You don't want to bombard a man who's just getting out of the hospital with your texts. You'll leave him alone to rest.

Namjoon gives you a knowing look, eyeing your slightly hesitant state. "I'm serious, boss. Text him. You've been at his side this entire week, so if there's anyone who'd be more deserving of knowing what's up, it’d be you."

Deserving? That's a bit far, is it not? Yes, you've been visiting him, but it's not like you saved his life or anything. It's not that big of a deal. You just wanted to...make sure he was okay.

"I—When did you decide to call me boss again?" you switch subjects, but Namjoon remains unaffected.

"Text him," Namjoon says for the final time before reaching for his keys in his desk drawer. "I gotta get going, but I'll be back after I drop Tae off."

"Tae?" You haven't heard him called that before.

"Yeah, it's kinda a pet name. Sorry, I started calling him that once we became friends, so it slips out here and there. It's like second nature now."

"Got it," you nod, a bit disappointed. Maybe you weren't as close to Taehyung as you thought. "Make sure he gets home okay," you finish.

"I will." Namjoon gets up from his desk and heads out of the office. You turn around and return to your own office once he's out of sight.

While Namjoon is out, his phone rings incessantly. You find yourself getting up from your desk multiple times to take calls. By the afternoon, you're exhausted from the constant interruptions.

Maybe you should consider giving the poor man a raise.

Before the thought fully develops, his phone rings again. You don't even bother checking the caller ID anymore; you simply pick up the phone and answer in your sweetest voice.

"__? I thought I’d be hearing Namjoon first... hey," his voice is hesitant. "I hope I’m not interrupting anything."

"Jungkook," you reply cautiously, instantly recognizing his voice. "Why are you calling my work phone?"

"I... I didn't know how else to reach you. Can I come in or can you come into the parking lot? I have something to give you."

You pause, feeling a rush of unease. You haven’t spoken to Jungkook since last Friday when he called you out of the blue. Honestly, you hoped you wouldn’t hear from him, especially after telling him not to call again. It's strange that he keeps finding ways to show up unexpectedly.

"What is it you need to give me, Jungkook?" you ask bluntly, "I'm very busy."

There’s a brief silence on the other end before he answers, "It’s... It’s something personal. I’d rather not discuss it over the phone. Please, can you just come down for a moment?"

You weigh your options, torn between curiosity and apprehension. His unpredictability lately has left you unsure of what to expect. "Jungkook, I really don’t think—"

"Please," he interrupts, his voice sounding more urgent. "I promise it won’t take long."

Taking a deep breath, you decide to handle this with as much grace as you can muster. "Fine. I’ll be down in a minute."

You end the call and sit back, trying to steady your thoughts. His sudden request feels odd, and part of you worries about what he might say or do next. As you make your way to the parking lot, you mentally prepare yourself for another potentially difficult encounter.

When you arrive, Jungkook stands near his car, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His usual confident demeanor seems replaced by a sense of unease.

"Hey," he starts, his voice tentative, "thanks for agreeing to meet."

You give a brief nod, keeping your tone neutral. "Yeah, sure. What's up?"

Jungkook shifts awkwardly, his gaze dropping momentarily before meeting yours. "I wanted to apologize," he continues, his voice tinged with regret. "I'm sorry for calling you up drunk."

You feel a flicker of irritation. This is what he wanted to give you? An apology that's seven days late? You figured he would have just forgone the apology by now.

"Why now?" you ask, crossing your arms over your chest, a defense mechanism you've developed. "It's been a week. I’m not sure if you realize that or not though."

"I know," he says quickly, his eyes earnest. "I wanted to come sooner, but I wasn't sure if you'd want to see me or just never hear from me again."

You scoff slightly, "Well, for the first time, you are completely right. I don't want to see you, Jungkook." You try to keep your voice steady, but the raw edges of your emotions bleed through. There’s no point sugarcoating it at this stage; he’ll just keep pushing your boundaries if you don’t become firm with him.

He winces at your words, nodding slowly. "You have every right to feel that way. I messed up, big time. I just wanted you to know that I'm truly sorry. You deserve someone who isn't as screwed up as I am. But I still mean everything I said that night. I do love you. It took me until now to realize that, apparently."

You sigh, the weight of his words pressing down on you. Love? Now? After everything? Somehow, it feels more like a burden than anything.

"Jungkook, love isn't a get-out-of-jail-free card," you say slowly, your voice somewhat shaky. "It's not something you can just throw out there to fix things. Not only did you divorce me, but you also led me to believe we could actually be something. All those weeks of you being attentive and showing up for me after I shared my feelings made me believe that you were honestly trying to make our marriage work, that you were committed. You lied to me, discarded me, and now that I'm not around, you suddenly miss me? No, I'm sorry. You broke my trust, and that's not something you can just apologize away."

You pause, feeling the weight of your words settle in the tense air between you and Jungkook.

He looks down, nodding again. "I get it. I really do. And I don't expect you to forgive me or anything. I just wanted you to know that I understand how much I hurt you, and I'm sorry. I understand if you hate me."

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, trying to keep your voice steady despite the emotions threatening to stir inside. "Jungkook," you begin carefully, meeting his eyes. "What happened between us was painful. You calling me drunk last week was also painful. I'm sorry about the challenges you had with your parents, but it's no excuse to put that on others. If you need someone to discuss personal matters with, I suggest you see a professional."

You pause, taking a deep breath before continuing.

"I don't hate you, okay? I'm not that cold-hearted. There's still part of me that I think might always hold space for you, but I can't just forget everything. I need to move on, and that means you can't keep calling me at random times. It’s not fair to either of us. I appreciate the apology, but I don't think we can go much further."

He nods solemnly, understanding your stance. "Okay," Jungkook replies softly, his voice filled with a sadness you hadn’t expected. "I understand. I'll respect your wishes and leave you alone. Take care of yourself, okay? I...I want you to be happy, even if it’s not with me," he says, his eyes earnest. "And... I'm really sorry for everything."

He begins to back away toward his car, and as he does, it hits you—it’s over.

"Take care, Jungkook," you say gently. "Don't overwork yourself, alright? Stay healthy."

He looks at you, forcing a smile. "You know I can't do that. It isn't in my blood." He sings the last part, referencing a song you both used to joke about, and you let out a small chuckle despite yourself.

"God, Jeon, I thought you'd stop with that song by now." you say, shaking your head.

"Nah," he replies, shaking his head with a faint grin as he opens his car door. "I'm taking it to my grave. I'll see you later, __."

You know the last part is a lie, an empty promise to soften the blow. Still, you respond, "Yeah, see you."

With that, you part ways in the parking lot, each going your separate ways. As you walk back to your office, the weight of the finality settles in. It's all over, you think, feeling the sting of a single tear trailing down your cheek. Unbeknownst to you, a similar tear streams down Jungkook's face as he drives away, each tear falling for completely different reasons.

Two weeks pass, and Jungkook keeps his word. He hasn’t called, texted, or shown up at your work. It’s as if he’s become a stranger, someone you once knew but is now part of a distant past.

Your days begin to regain a sense of normalcy. The emotional weight of the past few months slowly starts to lift, allowing you to refocus on your work and personal well-being. The company demands your attention, and you dive into projects, meetings, and strategies with a renewed energy.

Yet, despite the return to routine, there's a persistent sense of something missing. You haven’t talked to Taehyung at all since he got discharged from the hospital. You haven’t seen him either, and the silence pulls at you more each day.

Every time you try to get information about him from Namjoon, he gives you the same response: "Just text him. Don’t overthink it; he’ll be glad to hear from you." Once, you sensed that Namjoon wanted to say more but stopped himself short, making the excuse that it wasn’t for him to say. Whatever that meant.

You’re on your way home from running errands when the thought enters your mind for the umpteenth time: should you text Taehyung?

You’re torn between respecting his privacy and wanting to check in on him. He hasn’t reached out, so maybe he’s trying to distance himself or just needs time to recover alone, now that he’s in the comfort of his own home. On the other hand, you can’t shake the feeling that checking in would be the right thing to do.

As you approach your apartment building, you pull over into a quiet parking spot, letting your car idle. Gripping your phone, you take a deep breath and finally decide to text him.

You: Hey, Taehyung. I hope you’re doing well. Just wanted to check in and see how you’re feeling. Let me know if you need anything. We still miss you at the office!

You stare at the message for a moment before hitting send. The butterflies in your stomach flutter as you wait. What if he doesn’t respond? What if he doesn't want to hear from you?

You end up deleting the message entirely.

Forget it, you think, if he wanted to hear from you he would have texted by now, right? Just leave it alone. You said you'd support him while he was in the hospital and you did. Now he needs his space to finish healing. He'll reach out when he's ready.

Your phone buzzes the next minute, snapping you out of your thoughts. You glance at it, half hoping that Taehyung was secretly telepathic. But it isn’t from him. Instead, it’s a notification from a friend inviting you to a small get-together this coming weekend.

Smiling, you accept the invitation.

Turns out your friend's get-together was a singles mixer. Unsurprisingly, you weren't approached much, if at all. It seemed the men were either too nervous, still associating you with your ex-husband, or not quite into accomplished women. That didn't stop them from ogling you, though, as your friend insisted that you dress for the affair. You didn't choose anything flashy, but it was certainly flattering.

Leaving without a phone number didn't bother you, though. At thirty years old, most of the people were younger than you, including your friend who was a couple of years younger. Plus, you found your mind often wandering to the one man you hadn't heard from in nearly three weeks—Kim Taehyung. Should you stop overthinking and finally listen to Namjoon's suggestion? Maybe it's time to contact him.

Lost in thought on your drive home, you snap back to reality when you slam on the brakes at a sudden red light. Damn, you hadn't noticed it change so quickly. Shaking off any lingering daze, you refocus and spot a man crossing the street ahead, a little dog trotting beside him on a leash.

"Taehyung," you whisper to yourself. "What is he doing out here, especially on this slipper—shit!"

Your heart skips a beat as Taehyung stumbles on the ice, struggling to keep his balance. Concerned, you pull up to the side of the road as soon as the light turns green, parking quickly and jumping out of your car to rush over to him. He leans against a brick building, his dog, Tan, yelping at your approach. Cute little guy, but you're focus is on Taehyung.

"Damn," he mutters, trying to steady himself. His eyes widen when he catches sight of you. "__, I—" he begins.

"What are you doing, Kim Taehyung?" you scold gently. "Are you trying to hurt yourself again?"

Taehyung meets your gaze, his Gucci scarf wrapped snugly around his neck. "No," he replies earnestly. "I just needed some fresh air. It's been nearly three weeks since I was discharged, and Dr. Min said short walks with Tan are okay now. My parents were here for a while, but they left this weekend."

His explanation sinks in as you take in his appearance. Despite the chill in the air, he looks better than the last time you saw him. His cheeks are slightly flushed from the cold, and there's a determination in his eyes that wasn't there before.

"You should be more careful," you reply softly, stepping closer to him. Tan, sensing the shift in attention, continues to bark happily, tail wagging. "Are you okay? My car is right here, if you need me to take you home or anything."

Taehyung nods, a small smile playing on his lips. "I know, I know. Sorry for worrying you." He gestures to Tan, who is now circling around your legs in excitement. "Tan here doesn't seem to mind the ice at all, and surprisingly, he doesn't mind you either."

You chuckle softly, crouching down to pet the little dog. "Is he usually this friendly?"

"Not at first, no," Taehyung replies, his tone lighter now. He glances down at you, his eyes softening. "I'm glad I ran into you, though. It's been...a while."

You nod, standing to your feet. "It has. I'm glad to see you're doing better."

"I am," he affirms, his gaze steady on yours. "Thanks to you, mostly. You were there for me when I needed it the most."

"Oh, come on," you say, waving off the comment. "I didn't do that much."

Taehyung's smile widens, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "You did more than you realize."

You feel a slight blush creeping up your cheeks at his words, but you maintain eye contact, appreciating the warmth in his gaze. The longer you stand there, staring at each other, the uneasier you feel. Perhaps you shouldn't ask the question that's been on your mind, but it slips out before you can stop it.

"Why didn't you call?" you ask, surprising both yourself and Taehyung as he simultaneously voices the exact same question.

Taken aback by the simultaneous question, you both chuckle nervously, breaking the tension. Taehyung scratches the back of his neck, sheepish.

"I thought about it every day," he admits, his voice quiet but sincere. "But I wasn't sure if you wanted to hear from me. I already took so much of your time, and I didn't want to ask more from you. So, I asked Namjoon to pick me up from the hospital. I thought maybe it would be better for me to wait for you to reach out and focus on recovering."

You nod, understanding flooding your expression. "I felt quite similar. I thought maybe you asked Namjoon because he's your friend. I didn't want to hound you when you just got released from the hospital, so I decided to let you recover in peace. I guess in the end, I was also waiting for you to reach out with an update of some kind."

Taehyung takes a few seconds to fully absorb your words before replying. "I'm sorry," he says softly, his eyes reflecting genuine remorse. "I didn't mean to make you feel like I was avoiding you. I would have been more than happy with you picking me up instead of Namjoon. I realize that I should have at least reached out to update you instead of going silent. I'd like to think of you as my friend too. But I wasn’t sure if you felt the same, and I just didn't want to burden you." His gaze becomes downcast as he stares at the ground beneath him.

You're unsure where you find the courage, but you bring your hands up to cup his cheeks, gently lifting his face so he meets your eyes. You have to stand on your tiptoes a bit, which he finds endearing.

"I’d like to consider you my friend too, and that means you shouldn't worry about burdening me anymore, Tae," you say softly, your touch lingering momentarily on his face, caught up in the moment. When you realize what you've done, you pull back slightly, flustered. "Um… sorry, I didn't mean to call you that."

"It's okay," he responds, his voice gentle. "I don't mind. You can call me Tae from now on if you'd like. Also, you're not a burden either, you never were to me."

You're speechless for a second before replying. "So, friends then?" you ask. "No more mixed signals and reaching out when we want?"

"I mean, I’d like that as long as you do too," he confirms with a warm smile, though his eyes say there's more that he's left unsaid. You don't notice, however.

"Text me whenever you have something on your mind," he continues.

"I will," you promise. “You too.”

"Definitely.” Taehyung pauses, glancing down at Tan who's decided to lay down by his feet. "So, I was going to take a walk with Tan at the park nearby. Any chance you'd like to join me?" His gaze shifts back to you, hopeful yet uncertain.

"I'd like that," you reply genuinely. "But we're taking my car over, so you don't break a hip on this ice, old man."

Taehyung's mouth gapes open as he shakes his head. "How many times do I need to tell you? I'm only two years older than you. Two!"

It's surreal.

How much you and Taehyung have started becoming friends, that is.

Almost two months have already passed, and it feels like just yesterday you were merely colleagues, you his boss.

Saturdays have become your day with Taehyung now. While part of you insists it's to prevent him from slipping on the ice again, deep down, you both know there's more to it now that he's almost fully recovered from his injuries.

Each weekend, you find yourselves exploring different parks and streets, swapping childhood stories, and sharing laughter over the dumbest things. Today, however, would be different. With rain threatening to drench the city, Taehyung suggested a change of plans—a cozy movie day indoors. Little did he know, you had a surprise in store for him.

You dash up to the front door, a bag of homemade food in one hand and an umbrella in the other.

Taehyung opens the door with a grin, holding his own umbrella. "Hey! Perfect timing," he chuckles, taking the umbrella from you and gesturing inside. "Come in. It's freezing out there today."

You step inside, shaking off the raindrops and removing your shoes. The warmth of his home envelopes you, a comforting contrast to the chilly rain outside.

"I brought something," you announce, holding up the bag. "Guess what it is?"

Taehyung looks at you curiously, his eyebrows raised in anticipation. "Hmm," he muses, pretending to ponder. "Knowing you, it's probably my favorite spicy chicken wings from that place near your office."

"Very close, Tae. Except these chicken wings were made by your favorite person in the whole world," you tease, handing him the bag with a grin.

Taehyung's eyes lit up as he takes the bag from you. "No way," he says, a mix of disbelief and excitement in his voice. "You made them yourself? You're the best, __. Seriously."

"It's the least I could do," you reply with a smile, following him into the living room where the TV flickers. "Besides, it's pouring out there. Movie day with good food seems like the perfect plan."

"Absolutely," he agrees, setting the food down on the coffee table. "I was thinking we could start with that new action flick I heard about."

"Aww, but I thought you said we could watch one of your movies instead?" you argue playfully, sinking into the couch. Tan bounds over, wagging his tail in excitement at the prospect of company. You scratch behind his ears while Taehyung sets up the movie.

"What? I don't remember saying that. Was I drunk that day?" he jokes.

"Well... maybe?" you tease back.

"I told you, __, I don't like watching my own films. It's weird, and half the time it's me kissing the female lead. You're going to need to watch those on your own time," he quips, his tone more serious than intended. The truth is, he really would rather not be there when you watch him kiss his co-stars.

"Alright, alright, getting aggressive over there," you chuckle, not seeing the faint rosy tint that's crept up on his cheeks. "We'll watch the action movie."

As the opening scenes roll, you can't help but steal glances at Taehyung. Despite the seriousness of his recent health issues, he seems more at ease today, a genuine smile gracing his face as he takes a seat beside you. It feels good to see him like this, relaxed and feeling more like himself.

Halfway through the movie, he nudges you gently. "Thanks for coming over today," he says softly, his gaze warm as it meets yours. "And for the food, of course."

"You don't have to thank me," you reply sincerely, nudging him back with a smile. "I'm happy to do it."

Unexpectedly, Taehyung reaches for the TV remote, pausing the scene playing in front of you. "Hey, __," he says, turning to face you, a hint of nervousness in his eyes as they shift from side to side.

"What is it, Tae?" You feel a slight unease, sensing tension. He's once again just staring into your eyes, wordless.

"Do you..." he starts but stops short, his voice trailing off.

"Yes?" You search his face for clues as to what he's trying to say.

"Would you want to go to a party with my family?" he finally asks, his words coming out in a rush. "My parents are hosting to celebrate my recovery, but really it's just an excuse to get the family together."

"So, a family reunion?" Your voice drops slightly, a mix of surprise and...disappointment? Why had you been expecting something different?

"I mean, yes, sort of. You don't have to if you don't want to," he adds quickly, almost anxiously. "I know it might be uncomfortable for you, but you've been here for me during so much of my recovery. It would mean a lot to have you there. My parents want to meet you too."

"Um... well, I've never been to a family function before," you admit hesitantly.

"You haven't?" Taehyung looks genuinely surprised.

You shake your head. "My family's never been one to do those types of things."

"Well, consider yourself part of my family then. Come with me, __. They'll love you."

"I-I don't know about that," you say softly, a flicker of uncertainty crossing your face. "How can you be so sure that they'll like me?"

"Because I do," he urges gently, "and if I like you, so will they."

You're taken aback by his words, unsure how to respond. Surely he means this in a platonic way. Despite growing closer, you and Taehyung are just friends, setting aside any previous suspicions of romantic interest. Maybe if circumstances were different—if you weren't divorced—then maybe you could entertain the idea.

For now, you'll leave that side of him alone and simply be his friend. You feel a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

"Okay," you finally say, nodding your head. "I'll come. When is it?"

"They want to do it next weekend, weather permitting. We can carpool if you'd like, or you can take your own car," he offers.

"I'll think about it," you reply, trying to process the unexpected turn of events.

"Great." Taehyung flashes a boxy grin. "Thank you, I was so nervous to ask."

"Of course," you say, offering a tight-lipped smile. Taehyung unpauses the movie, and you return your attention to the TV screen. Minutes following your phone buzzes and a text message from Jimin appears on your screen.

Chim 🐥: __! Hate to be bringing this up, but have you seen the news about Jungkook? Looks like he's preparing to step down as CEO. Did you know about this?"

What? You had no clue.

a/n: If you are mad at me, well....I'm sorry but pls blame jk instead. But I am hoping you enjoyed! 🥰 vote jjk or kth

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side note: I tried tagging readers in comments but most of them didn't go through, so i'm sorry about the clutter here...😬

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

#jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #jungkook imagines #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #bts smut #bts angst #bts au #bts imagines #bts fanfics #bts x reader #fic:guiltypleasures #kookslastbutton

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sanakiras · 1 month

Text

TIDAL WAVE OF LOVE

PAIRING — choi seungcheol x reader

WORD COUNT — 1.3k

SYNOPSIS — even the strongest of people break sometimes. you’re used to hiding your feelings; your boyfriend is there for you when everything gets too much.

TAGS — angst, self-esteem issues, fear of failure, mc has a bit of a breakdown :(( but also a lil comfort

NOTE — cleaning out the drafts bc i have too many 😭 this is wayyyy shorter than my usual works but i still felt like posting it <3 i had a very stressful semester in uni before the summer break and i came across this video on twt of coups giving wonwoo a little comforting squeeze which i found very endearing sooo that kinda became the inspo for this!

the moment he calls out a greeting to you from his kitchen, you close your eyes for a moment. it would’ve probably been wiser to have gone home instead of his place.

you greet him the same way, hoping he doesn’t hear the crack in your voice.

“how was your day?” he asks you once he’s returned to the living room, giving you a kiss.

you press your lips together. “fine. nothing special.”

the first thing he notices is the lack of eye contact you make with him. you’re also being considerably less touchy with him than usual, which he finds strange.

“everything okay?”

“yeah.” you put up a smile that doesn’t appear genuine in the slightest.

he figures you could just be in a bad mood — but that doesn’t seem to be the case.

he knows for a fact that it’s not with the way you’re trying real hard to hide your face from him. you only do that when you’re upset about something.

“baby, talk to me.”

“about what?”

the response comes out snappier than you meant it to. you two have been together quite a while — so he’s come to know that you tend to get a little colder and distant before the dam breaks.

you look at him so briefly to the point where he’d miss the motion if he blinked. the expression equals a silent apology.

of course he always does his best to give you whatever space you need. that being said, he’s also come to know you get into your own head a lot, and sometimes there’s someone who needs to pull you out of it.

you bite your lip in a pathetic attempt to hold back your tears. “it’s fine, cheol, just let it go.”

“well, i care about you, sweetheart. what’s going on?” he’s persistent but gentle about it. you have a habit of keeping your feelings to yourself and hardly ever letting anything out, which leads to everything just piling up and making things worse.

“i don’t wanna talk about it.”

the lump in your throat begins to rise.

“i can see that, but you’ve clearly got something you need off your chest. are you okay?”

you don’t show anyone when something’s wrong unless they mention it first. and even when they do, you’re hesitant.

it’s an exhausting way to live, but you still choose to do so.

it’s one of the reasons why you hate crying. your glossy eyes always betray you.

then you make — what you consider to be — the mistake of looking into his big, worried eyes once more, and you just completely fall apart in front of him.

the tears begin to flow before you can even comprehend it.

“it’s just—god, i don’t even know why i’m so fucking emotional, i just—” your breath shudders, the mildly angry expression that was previously on your face now nowhere to be found, “everything’s been so stressful recently, and i’m scared i won’t pass my classes, and i feel like such a slow learner compared to everyone else—”

he’s rubbing your back, just allowing you to you let everything out. he keeps quiet.

“i feel fucking fragile. and weak. every little thing is just too much right now. i’m sorry, i feel stupid.”

he lets you cry into his chest as his arms are wrapped around you, one hand softly rubbing the back of your head. “don’t feel stupid, baby. you can vent to me, always.”

the sound of your heavy sobs hurt him, because he feels like you’re always so hard on yourself, but he’s glad you’re releasing them. it’s healthier to let it all out than to keep it in.

“it’s just like i can’t breathe, y’know?” you mutter in the crook of his neck, subconsciously wetting his shirt with your tears, “i can’t take a single break ‘cause i’ll fall behind. i’m so tired. i feel like i’m not even smart enough to take the damn course, let alone pass the fucking test—”

once he feels like you’re about to start hyperventilating, he moves back to let him look at you. “long breaths. you’re okay, just breathe with me.”

he purposefully takes long, deep breaths, counting the seconds out loud to guide you, and it works. your breathing is steadying bit by bit, sobs faltering, melting into soft hiccups and numbness.

with dried tears and a slightly hoarse voice, you let out a sigh. “i just hate feeling so incompetent. for once, i’d love to feel smart. i wanna feel like i’m able to keep up as well as everyone else does, y’know? i’m… i’m procrastinating everything and i don’t know how to change it. it all sucks.”

“it’s not easy, baby. don’t be too hard on yourself.” he presses a swift kiss to your skin, and you hold him tighter, as if he were to slip out of your hold if you didn’t.

“it’s not easy for me. it is for them.”

“there’s nothing wrong with that. would you think differently if someone in your class had to put more effort into passing the course? you wouldn’t, right? because at the end of the day, you both make it to the finish line. that’s what matters.”

deep down, you know he has a point. you put the pressure so high on yourself, yet don’t apply the same logic to your peers.

you don’t really understand why.

“and you say it’s easy for them, but i know for sure that they put more effort into it than you might think. trust me. you’ll get to where you want to be, one way or another. if you take a little longer to do that than a classmate, who cares. it’s your life. i know you’ve worked so hard—” he twirls a strand of your hair between his fingers, “even if you don’t pass that class now, it won’t be the end of the world, and there’ll be another chance. you’ll get there.”

now there’s just a few last tears running down your cheeks. “except i’m worried that i won’t.”

“you will. and once you do, you’ll be happy that you got to that point because you worked hard and deserve that success. if not today, then tomorrow. yeah?”

you take a deep breath, exhaling slowly, the last shudders of your breakdown bubbling to the surface as your heart rate finally slows back to normal. “yeah. thank you.”

to show your gratitude, you give him a hug, which he happily embraces, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“anytime. i’m here for you.”

even the strongest of people break — but they can still pick up the pieces and start over.

do your best (but maybe not sometimes) <3

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

#choi seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #svt x reader #svthub #seungcheol x reader #scoups fanfic #scoups angst #scoups fluff #choi seungcheol fanfic #choi seungcheol ff #seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #svt ff #svt oneshot #svt angst #svt fluff

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limethefirst · 2 months

Text

Savior

pairings: Logan Howlett x teen!reader (platonic)

warnings: torture, violence

summary: after a year of being experimented on you’re finally saved and taken to a safe place where it’ll never happen again

a/n: Logan x platonic readers always have me gnawing at the bars of my enclosure so…here’s more!!! Logan is so bbg.. also Void Runner pt3 is in the works🫡

Normality was something people were used to seeing, most people were what the rest of society would consider ‘normal’.

Those who were considered ‘abnormal’ were mutants; humans who underwent a strange mutation that gave them the X-gene. Many viewed them as dangerous, evil even, many kidnapped and would experiment on them.

Unfortunately for you, you were a mutant, and to make it worse, one who was being experimented on and exploited.

Thankfully there were a group of people who were supposed to help and save these mutants, these people were the X-men. Today was your lucky day, today was the day you’d be saved, if only you knew that.

“Transfer 26 back to their cell,” an unknown guard said to your handler. Your eyes were trained to the ground, you knew talking would only cause punishment.

You’d been here for almost a year, your powers had devolved recently and you were quickly taken away.

The power of protection, or so that’s what most of the lab workers said. You had to power to conjure force fields around you as well as others or other objects, but you weren’t able to hold it for long; another perk of the power was you could conjure half shields, something you’d be able to use if you ever needed to protect only the front part of your body.

The walk back to your cell was taking its toll on your body, the constant pain and pressure you were put through finally attacking at you. Your wrists and neck itchy from whatever metal was around it, suppressing your powers.

Finally you tilted your head up, noticing the lack of mutants in the cells as you walked, you believed you were the last one left, the others dying from neglect or refusal to cooperate.

Before being able to be put into your cell, a loud ringing began to blaring over the compound, red lights flashed and everything shut down.

That’s when you saw him, The Fucking Wolverine.

His claws looked as if they were glistening against the contrast of the red, you watched as he began to take down many of the guards, each one down by the second. Your handler grabbed his smaller pistol; hidden within his lab coat for moments like this, but instead of aiming it at the beast in front of him, he grabbed you by your shirt.

He held the gun against your temple, the cold metal making a shiver go down your spine.

“Let the kid go,” You could hear Wolverines voice, it was stern but you could tell he was pissed; his jaw was clenched and his fist got tighter, his claws covered in blood, as was the floor.

It was almost as if luck had decided to visit you for the first time in years, because suddenly, everything shut down, the power was gone. The item suppressing your powers had just fallen down. The metal clinking against the floor.

This was your chance.

Quickly you summoned a shield around yourself, hearing a gun go off by your ear; but instead of a thump of a body hitting the floor, all that was heard was the sound of a bullet hitting the ground.

This was when Wolverine took the chance the strike, killing the man in an instant.

The man turned back to you, his face held not much emotion, maybe a hint of pity.

You weren’t able to say much, before you knew it you had passed out, perhaps the exhaustion from earlier finally caught up to you.

You slowly began to wake up, the room was the bright, it looked like a doctor’s office. You looked down, your white prison like clothes not replaced with a gown.

A taller woman entered the room, she noticed your eyes had opened, she gave you a warm smile and introduced herself as Dr Jean Grey, quickly excusing herself to go get the rest of the faculty.

Each person had said their hellos and such, besides two, the man in the wheel chair and Wolverine. The man in front of you began to talk but his mouth wasn’t moving, it was strange but he let himself explain before carrying on.

“Hello there dear,” the voice echoed in your mind, “I am Charles Xavier, I’m currently speaking to you through your mind if you haven’t noticed,” he looked at you for acknowledgment before continuing, “I’ve been looking for you for quite some time now, you’re currently at my school for gifted children, a place for mutant kids to learn about their abilities away from those who fear them, I’m here to offer you a place to stay.”

Charles looked at you, a warm smile on his face. He hoped you take him up on his offer, “I’d like that a lot,” you replied in your mind, assuming he’d be able to hear you as well. This was confirmed when he nodded at you and slowly left the room, but not before saying something you couldn’t hear to whoever was left in the room.

You looked at the man who’d saved you, his arms were crossed and he stood tall before you, “Listen kid, since you’re staying I’ll be helping you out a bit around here to you get used to it,” he said looking at your bruised arms, “I’m sure Charles told you what this place is and what not,”

But before he could say anything else you cut him off, “You’re name,” was all you could mutter before he finished his sentence.

“What?” He asked, confused by what you meant.

“What’s you’re name”

“Logan, I’ll be your history teacher and combat instructor,”

You blinked, confused before understanding he was probably a teacher here.

“Y/N, I’m Y/N,” you looked at the man, seeing if he’d say anything else, “Where will I stay?” You asked him.

“We have dorms, I’ll show you to yours right now, it’ll give you time to change and explore the place,”

“Hm alright, thank you”

“Don’t mention it kid,”

Logan showed you your room, it was ten times bigger than cage they held you in. Their first thing you did when Logan finally left was shower, once you exited you saw some clothes on the bed, with a note from another teacher here who you knew as Ororo or Storm.

Quickly you changed into the clothes, wanting to see the place.

When you left the room you noticed the hallway with a bunch of other doors, many rooms were empty; there was still lots of room for new mutants to make this their home too.

Slowly you made your way to the main hall, there were many other kids your age, each one with a special ability of some sort, you saw one kid with ice, another going through walls.

You started to make your way outside next, seeing more kids playing. Suddenly you hear someone yell.

“Watch out!” You put out your hands, a shield forming around the front of your figure. The kids who threw what seemed to be a football all cheered, before asking you to throw it back to them, which you hesitantly did.

You turned back around ready to head inside when someone stopped you.

“Didn’t think I’d get to see you use your power again so soon kid,” Logan was now at your side, walking you to the door.

“Would you rather I get a football to the head?” You smiled at him, a playful tug at your lips.

“So what do you think of the place?” He asked you, slightly eyeing your figure, trying to see if you felt comfortable yet.

“It’s big,” he smirked at your words, big was an understatement in his opinion. Then a sigh left you, “I feels like too much for me to take in, I can’t believe this isn’t a dream,”

Logan stopped walking, this causing you to stop too and look at him; he put his hand on your shoulder and looking you into your eyes, “Trust me, it feels like that at first but I promise you’re safe here now, if ever need someone you can always come find one of us, got it bub?”

“I got it Logan,” You gave him a warm smile, and you felt yourself feel somewhat better. The two of you began to walk back inside, you felt safer knowing you had someone in your corner now.

“Do you guys have Oreos here?”

“I can get you some.”

#wolverine #wolverine x reader #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool #marvel #logan howlett #x men #x reader #wolverinexteen!reader #teen reader #logan howlett x reader #platonic

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yogurtkags · 3 months

Text

❝ HERE WITH ME ❞ — kageyama tobio

cw. gn!reader, hurt/comfort, established relationship word count. 860 synopsis. tobio comforts you in the only way he knows how

"i'm home." the first thing tobio notices is that it's too quiet.

taking his shoes and jacket off by the door, he peers over the corner to see the house seemingly empty. that's odd, you're usually home by now.

practice ended a little earlier than usual, or as coach calls it, a reward, for finally getting down some of the new attack formations that the team has been working on for the past couple of weeks. he had no complaints, taking the shortest and fastest way home to you.

it’s daily routine that he gets home after you after all — you’re always there at the door to greet him with a hug or at least be within sight, either lounging on the couch or busying yourself with something. with a sweet smile and crescent moons for eyes, your head will shoot up from whatever you're focusing on, searching for the face of your lover. you're always so happy to see him.

today, you’re nowhere to be found. the still air of your cozy abode is stifling as he scans his surroundings, the only indication that you're home is your bag laying by the door, half of it's contents spilling out like it was thrown aside. something’s up.

frowning in confusion, he quietly pads to your shared bedroom, taking cautious steps towards the door left slightly ajar. gently pushing the door open, he finds you laying face down in bed. if it weren’t for your muffled sniffles, he would’ve thought you were asleep, and his heart shatters when he realises — you’re crying.

his eyebrows furrow as he slowly approaches your figure, kneeling down and grazing his fingers along the back of your hand with a featherlight touch. the last thing he wants to do is scare you in case you didn't hear him come in.

you did in fact hear him, but simply didn’t have it in you to get up after the grueling day that just passed. the universe seemed to be against you — everything that could’ve gone wrong, went wrong, and what started as a peaceful morning ended with you dragging yourself home and barely holding back tears.

barely above a whisper, he murmurs, “hi love, i’m home.”

with your face smushed into the pillow, you miss the concerned crease between his eyebrows and the downturn of his lips at the sight of you like this. tobio knows very well that he's a far cry from being an empath, but seeing you in this state makes his shoulders stiffen, body tensing up as he imagines the distress you must be in.

you always did take pride in being strong and slow to crumble in the face of trouble. it's one of the endless list of things he loves about you, but he also knows that you tend to bottle up your negative emotions.

shifting over to give him room to sit, your turn in his direction just as you feel the edge of the bed dip with his weight, eyes still closed and almost afraid to face him. it’s not that you can’t be vulnerable with him, he already has so much on his plate, you don’t want to bother him any more after a long day.

he thumbs at your damp cheeks and sighs, “look at me, please?” reluctantly fluttering your eyes open, you meet his worried gaze with exhausted, glossy eyes. there you are, his beautiful baby.

“bad day?” he knows, and with your nods he soothes you, “you don’t have to tell me if you don't want to okay?”

he’s worried, he’s never been good with words, neither does he ever know what he’s doing when you’re the one that needs comfort. he lets his actions do the talking instead, stretching out his arms for you for you to fall into. i'll be your safety net.

but little does he know, his simple words are enough to soothe your soul, knowing they’re from the heart. like a glimmer of sunshine piercing through the sea of dark clouds, they quell your worries and shelter you from the storm, even if just for a little while.

“shh it’s okay, i’m here.”

the moment he takes you into his arms, you’re falling apart, a fresh wave of warm tears finding a home in the junctures of his neck. his arms, toned and strong from years of volleyball, cradle you with a softness he only ever knows with you, hands delicately smoothing up and down your spine as he gently rocks back and forth.

the quiet humming and tender kisses to the crown of your head ground you with time, your tears slowing in it's tracks. with a deep exhale, you catch your breath and finally lift your head to look him, heartstrings tugging at the way his loving gaze seems to find yours.

tobio brushes the loose strands of hair out of your face, placing a reassuring kiss on your forehead, followed by each of your eyelids. it tickles and you let out a humoured breath at the sensation, bringing a soft relieved smile to his face.

"there you are. you're safe, here with me now."

notes. back to the regular scheduled program ~ i apologise in advance, this is extremely self-indulgent and possibly ooc. i started writing this in my lowest point last week after a night of crying myself to sleep, i know, not my brightest moment eueueue. i hope this can be of at least a little bit of comfort to you < 3 (dividers: @/cafekitsune) reblogs & interactions are always appreciated !

#ᯓ★ : written in the stars !#kageyama tobio #kageyama x reader #kageyama tobio x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader

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anantaru · 3 months

Note

Blade comforing s/o from an overwhelming situation? 🥹🥹

・✶ ｡ synopsis — blade instantly sees that you were having a rough day, on the brink of tears and shaking, so he did what every boyfriend should do, meaning to be there for you <3

warnings — none, fem! reader, fluff, established relationship, reader is sad, cute protective boyfriend blade <3 calls you: love, my girl, he kisses your forehead

your entire day consisted of a chaotic swirl enhanced with noises and movements from left to right— people rushing past all directions while bumping into you, their voices merging into a deafening grating that made your head practically spin off your body.

is this really it? you don't think you can escape those masses, in fact, you still needed to fight at the end of your day with something like this even after the suffering you've just had to endure?

you were already having a rough day, yes, from the start, yet a series of small frustrations piled up until you felt like you were carrying a mountain on your shoulders, a heavy weight that was gradually taking all your room to breathe.

and this nasty crowd was certainly the final straw to you.

alas, you wouldn't let yourself get pushed and touched by random strangers and rushed your way through the exit of your work, your heart pounding in your chest, each breath coming faster and faster as you fought to keep the rising tide of panic at bay— it's not like this hasn't happened before but today, even your vision blurred with unshed tears, the world around you becoming an overwhelming blur of emotions that made you want to scream.

"sorry, excuse me, uh," you mumble, not sure if anyone heard you or even cared to let you pass through.

people, who were as eager as you to leave their work were relentless, disrespectfully pushing and shoving, their indifferent faces blurring together in your mind as you've gotten dizzy by the time you were able to move again.

you awkwardly stumble into a corner, desperately trying to catch your breath— although just as you were about to lose your grip completely, a dark, handsome figure emerged from the crowd, yet not walking towards the exit, but you.

blade. your boyfriend blade. the man which could surprisingly find out a solution to yet about every problem.

he moves with a purpose, his eyes scanning the area until they finally lock onto your teary ones. and the moment he saw your tear-streaked face and trembling form just standing there while being surrounded by a bunch of people, his expression softened and tensed in unison.

without a word and wasting more time, he closes the distance between you within a couple steps and immediately pulled you into his arms.

ugh, you can finally breathe again and take in his signature cologne.

his hug was warm, his entire body like the softest pillow, his frame feeling like home and being grounding, his presence too, immediately cutting through the chaos and bringing you a sense of instant safety.

"hey, it's okay, i apologize for being late," he murmured, his voice a soothing rumble against your ear, but he notices the constant trembles on your body before securely kissing your forehead, "i've got you."

you clung to him, it's almost embarrassing by how strong your arms were locked around his waist as you were burying your face into his chest, the first out of your many tears finally breaking free— like your body telling you that it was okay to cry now. blade was here.

hot and in masses, the crystalline liquid soaks into his garments as you let out all the frustration— or panic? more so fear, and the exhaustion that had been building up inside of you for the entirety of your gruesome day.

but blade didn't say anything, nor did he really need to add something— instead, he just held you, his hands constantly rubbing soothing circles on your back as you cried your heart out to him.

blade was gentle with you, always, and he never expected you to be on your upmost, most perfect demeanor whenever you two met up. the way he had everything under control without actually lifting a finger came due to his calm presence which was like a balm to your burned nerves, the solid feel of his strong chest pressed against your face grounding you in a way nothing else could.

minutes passed, and slowly, your sobs began to subside, your breathing evening out as the storm of emotions gradually drowns away.

he didn't let go of you right away, he wouldn't want to— and well, blade continued to hold you, yes, he always will, his hands never stopped their gentle motions around the slopes of your body, his steady heartbeat a comforting rhythm against your ear.

when you slowly pulled back, your eyes emerged with a puffiness and slight redness taking over your eyes— although such really didn't matter now, because the panic inside had receded, fallen off your shoulders and replaced by a warm love.

the man looked down, admiring your puffy cheeks and slightly embarrassed eyes, his gaze soft and filled with an understanding that brought a fresh wave of love which entered your heart immediately.

"feeling a bit better love? i can pick you up more often if you want to," he asks sternly, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from your cheek.

as a response, you nod shyly before sniffling a little, "yeah, it's okay now, thank you, blade, ugh, this is so embarrassing i just didn't know what to do."

"everything just felt like too much all of a sudden, you know?"

his large palms don't leave your face, his touch always gentle when he held you, "it's okay, it's not your fault," he continues softly.

"don't apologize, it's not your fault and remember you're not alone, okay? i'm here for you love, always, i will do whatever it takes to make it better."

you continue to lean into his chest, unable to let go before taking a deep, steadying breath, "i don't know what i would have done if you hadn't been here."

"i'm sorry you had such a rough day," he returns, kissing your forehead as his hands squeeze your cheeks, "but i'm proud of you my girl, yeah?" as his arms wrap around you like two pillows covering your shaken frame, "for getting through it anyways."

and as you held onto him, as you felt and accepted the strength and love enveloping you wholly, you were aware that no matter how overwhelming life got at times, you would never have to face it alone.

#hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #blade x reader #hsr fluff #honkai starrail fluff #honkai star rail fluff #blade fluff #hsr x you #honkai starrail x you #honkai star rail x you #honkai sta rail drabbles #hsr drabbles #blade drabbles #blade x you

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wandering-winchesters · 27 days

Text

Unspoken Feelings

Summary: What started as simple, comforting snuggles between friends gradually deepens into something more

It started as something simple, something innocent. Just a couple of friends seeking comfort in each other after a particularly rough hunt. You and Dean had always been close—there was an unspoken bond between you, forged through countless battles, late-night heart-to-hearts, and a mutual understanding of the life you both led.

The first time it happened, you didn’t think much of it. You were both sitting on the couch in the bunker’s library, exhausted and battered from the latest hunt. The adrenaline had worn off, leaving behind the aches and bruises, both physical and emotional. You’d been talking about nothing in particular, just letting the words fill the space, when you suddenly found yourself leaning against Dean, your head resting on his shoulder.

To your surprise, Dean didn’t pull away. Instead, he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you a little closer, his hand resting comfortably on your arm. It was a simple, platonic gesture, one that felt natural, even necessary in that moment. The comfort of his presence, the steady rhythm of his breathing, it all made you feel safe, grounded.

“Rough night,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his shoulder.

Dean chuckled softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. “You can say that again.”

You didn’t say anything else, and neither did he. The silence between you was comfortable, familiar. You stayed like that for a while, just leaning on each other, taking solace in the fact that, for the moment, you were both okay. It was just a quiet, comforting moment shared between two friends who had seen more than their fair share of darkness.

After that night, it became a sort of unspoken tradition. Whenever the world felt too heavy, whenever the hunts took too much out of you, you’d find yourself sitting next to Dean, letting your head rest on his shoulder, his arm draped casually around you. Sometimes you’d talk, sometimes you’d just sit in silence, but the snuggles became a constant—a small, quiet escape from the chaos of your lives.

Over time, those moments became more frequent. It wasn’t just after hunts anymore. Sometimes, you’d be watching a movie, and you’d find yourself leaning into him, or you’d be sitting at the kitchen table, and he’d rest his hand on your back, just a simple touch that made you feel connected, understood.

You didn’t think much of it at first. It was just Dean—Dean who always had your back, who always knew what you needed, even before you did. But as the weeks went by, you started to notice the little things. The way your heart would skip a beat when his hand brushed against yours, the way your breath would hitch when he pulled you closer during one of your late-night snuggles, the way you found yourself craving his touch more and more.

It was confusing, this shift in your feelings, but you didn’t let yourself dwell on it. After all, it was just Dean. Your friend, your hunting partner, the one person you could always count on. And yet, something had changed. The snuggles that had once been purely platonic were beginning to feel like something more, something deeper.

You started to notice that Dean was different too. He held you a little tighter, his hand lingering on your arm or your back a little longer than before. His touches were softer, more deliberate, like he was savoring the contact. There were moments when you’d catch him looking at you, his green eyes filled with something that made your heart race, but he’d always look away before you could figure out what it was.

One night, after a particularly stressful day, you found yourself in Dean’s room. You hadn’t planned on going there, but when you passed by his door and saw the light on, your feet had carried you inside before you could think twice about it.

Dean was sitting on the edge of his bed, his shoulders slumped, clearly exhausted. He looked up when you walked in, a small, tired smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Can’t sleep either, huh?”

You shook your head, feeling a wave of warmth and affection for him wash over you. “No. Mind won’t shut off.”

Dean patted the space beside him, and you didn’t hesitate to sit down next to him, the familiar comfort of his presence already easing some of the tension in your chest.

Without a word, he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close, and you rested your head against his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath your cheek. The quiet settled over you both, and for a while, you just sat there, letting the silence do the talking.

But tonight, something felt different. The way Dean’s hand was resting on your back, the way his thumb was gently tracing patterns on your skin—it felt more intimate, more intentional than it had before. Your heart started to race, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was feeling it too, if he’d noticed the shift between you.

“Dean,” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the stillness of the room.

“Yeah?” he replied, his voice just as soft, almost hesitant.

You hesitated, unsure of how to put what you were feeling into words. “Do you ever… do you ever think about us? About what this is?”

Dean was quiet for a moment, and you could feel his breath hitch slightly, like he was trying to figure out how to respond. Finally, he spoke, his voice low, almost vulnerable. “Yeah, I do. More than I probably should.”

You lifted your head to look at him, your heart pounding in your chest. His expression was serious, his green eyes searching yours like he was looking for something, anything, to tell him what you were thinking.

“What if…” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “What if this is something more? What if it’s not just… comfort?”

Dean’s gaze softened, and he reached up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. “I think… I think maybe it’s always been something more,” he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. “I just didn’t want to mess things up by saying it out loud.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt a rush of warmth spread through you at his words. All the little moments, the touches, the way he held you close—it all made sense now.

“So, what do we do now?” you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Dean’s thumb continued to stroke your cheek, his touch so tender it made your heart ache. “We figure it out,” he said softly. “Together. One step at a time. If… if that’s what you want.”

You nodded, leaning into his touch, your eyes never leaving his. “It is, Dean. It really is.”

A slow, relieved smile spread across his face, and he leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I’m all in, Y/N. I want this, with you.”

And with that, the distance between you disappeared. Dean’s lips met yours in a gentle, lingering kiss that was filled with all the emotions you’d both been holding back for so long. It was soft, tentative, but it spoke of promises and possibilities, of something real and deep and lasting.

When you finally pulled back, you were both breathless, your foreheads still resting together, the world outside fading away.

“So, I guess our snuggles aren’t so platonic anymore,” you teased, a smile tugging at your lips.

Dean chuckled softly, his thumb brushing over your lips. “No, I guess not. But I’m okay with that.”

“Me too,” you whispered, your heart full as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close once more.

And as you settled back into his embrace, the line between friendship and something more blurred completely, leaving behind only the warmth of his arms around you, the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek, and the certainty that whatever came next, you’d face it together.

Taglist: @roseblue373 @jc-winchester @hobby27 @mishreem

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xxbirkindoll · 20 days

Note

ok for a drew fic maybe you and drew are new parents and he’s all snappy cause it’s frustrating and he apologizes later that night or something idk it’s been on my mind a lot

Together

A/N: i wrote this last night and i was tired so i hope it’s not that bad. i tried my best

warnings: none just angst and fluff at the end

words: 1.9k

——

The atmosphere inside inside the house feels anything but bright. The soft, rhythmic sound of your baby girl’s breathing is the only thing that calms you as you sit on the edge of the bed in the guest room. It’s quiet here, tucked away from the rest of the house, away from Drew.

You’ve been in here for hours, ever since his harsh words had cut through you like a knife, leaving you stunned and hurt. You hadn’t expected it, hadn’t seen it coming. It wasn’t just what he said—it was how he said it, the sharpness in his tone, the frustration that seemed to boil over into anger, directed at you when all you were trying to do was hold everything together.

“She won’t stop crying, Y/N! Can’t you just do something?” he’d snapped, his voice loud enough to startle the baby in your arms. Her cries had only gotten louder, and your heart had broken a little more with every word that came out of his mouth.

It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. You were both exhausted, both overwhelmed, but you were supposed to be in this together. You were supposed to be a team. And yet, when things got tough, instead of leaning on each other, it felt like he was pushing you away, like you were failing him somehow.

You’d had enough. You’d left the living room without a word, carrying your daughter with you as you retreated to the guest room. You didn’t even look back to see if Drew was following. You couldn’t bear to see the frustration on his face, couldn’t handle the way his anger made you feel like you were completely alone in this.

The day passes slowly, each hour dragging on as you do your best to take care of your baby while keeping your distance from Drew. You hear him moving around the house, but he doesn’t come near the guest room. You’re not sure if he’s giving you space because he knows he crossed a line, or if he’s just too wrapped up in his own frustration to care. Either way, it hurts.

You spend most of the day in a haze, your emotions raw and close to the surface. You’re exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and it’s all you can do to keep going. You feed the baby, change her, rock her to sleep when she gets fussy, but your mind keeps drifting back to Drew, to the way he snapped at you, the way he made you feel like you weren’t doing enough.

By the time evening rolls around, you’re completely drained. You’ve barely eaten, barely slept, and your nerves are frayed to the point of breaking. The baby is finally asleep in the bassinet beside the bed, and you’re sitting there, staring at the wall, trying to hold back the tears that have been threatening to spill over all day.

And then there’s a soft knock on the door.

You don’t respond at first, hoping that whoever it is will just go away. But the knock comes again, a little louder this time, and you know it’s Drew. You can feel his presence even before he speaks, can sense the tension in the air as he waits for you to answer.

“Y/N?” His voice is soft, hesitant, and it only makes the ache in your chest worse. “Can I come in?”

You stay silent, not sure if you even want to see him right now. Part of you wants to open the door, let him in, let him apologize, but another part of you is still too hurt, too angry to even look at him.

“Please,” he says after a moment, his voice breaking slightly. “I need to talk to you.”

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath as you try to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside you. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you get up and walk to the door, opening it just enough to see him standing there, looking more tired than you’ve ever seen him.

His eyes are red-rimmed, his face pale, and there’s a desperation in his expression that tugs at your heart even though you’re still angry. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, like the weight of everything is finally crashing down on him.

“I’m sorry,” he says immediately, his voice thick with emotion. “Y/N, I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I was frustrated and tired, but that’s no excuse. You’re doing everything you can, and I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you.”

You stay silent, watching him as he steps closer, his hands trembling slightly as he reaches out to you. He doesn’t touch you, just holds his hands out, like he’s waiting for you to decide whether or not to let him in.

“I’m an idiot,” he continues when you don’t say anything, his voice trembling. “I know I am. I’ve been walking around all day thinking about what I said, about how I made you feel, and I hate myself for it. You’ve been amazing, Y/N, and I’ve been a jerk. I should have been supporting you, not tearing you down. I don’t deserve you.”

You can see the sincerity in his eyes, the regret that’s written all over his face, and it makes your heart ache. But you’re still so hurt, so angry that he would snap at you like that, especially when you’re both going through the same thing.

“I didn’t know what to do,” you finally whisper, your voice shaking as you struggle to keep your emotions in check. “I’m trying so hard, Drew. I’m doing everything I can, and it’s still not enough. And then you yelled at me like I was the one failing. Do you know how that made me feel?”

He closes his eyes, a pained expression crossing his face. “I know,” he says quietly, his voice filled with regret. “I know, and I hate myself for it. You didn’t deserve that. You’re an amazing mother, Y/N. You’re doing everything right. I was just…” He pauses, taking a shaky breath. “I was just scared. I felt so helpless, and instead of dealing with that, I took it out on you. And I’m so sorry.”

You stare at him for a long moment, your heart torn between the pain he caused and the love you still feel for him. He looks so broken, so desperate for your forgiveness, and you can see that he means every word. He knows he messed up, and he’s trying to make it right.

Finally, you let out a sigh, your shoulders slumping as the last of your anger starts to fade. “You really hurt me, Drew,” you say softly, your voice trembling. “I needed you, and instead of being there for me, you pushed me away.”

“I know,” he whispers, his voice thick with guilt. “I know, and I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’ll do anything to make it up to you. Just… please don’t shut me out.”

For a long moment, you don’t say anything, just looking at him, trying to decide if you’re ready to forgive him, if you’re ready to let go of the hurt and let him back in. And then, finally, you take a step forward, reaching out to him.

He’s on you in an instant, pulling you into his arms, holding you tightly as if he’s afraid you might slip away. You can feel the tension in his body, the way he’s trembling slightly as he holds you, and it makes you realize just how scared he’s been, just how much he’s been hurting too.

“I love you,” he whispers into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “I love you so much, baby. I’m so sorry for what I said. You’re everything to me. Please forgive me.”

You close your eyes, letting yourself sink into his embrace, letting his warmth and his love surround you. “I love you too,” you whisper back, your voice barely audible. “But you can’t talk to me like that again, Drew. We’re supposed to be in this together.”

“We are,” he promises, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. “We are, and I’ll do better. I promise, Y/N. I’ll be better.”

You nod, feeling a tear slip down your cheek as the last of your anger fades away, leaving only the love you have for him. He wipes the tear away with his thumb, his touch gentle, and then leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips, a kiss filled with all the love and regret he’s been holding inside.

When he pulls back, there’s a small, hopeful smile on his face, and it makes your heart swell with affection. “Come back to our room,” he says softly, his voice almost pleading. “I don’t want to sleep without you. I don’t want to be apart anymore.”

You hesitate for a moment, looking back at the bassinet where your daughter is sleeping peacefully, but then you nod, taking his hand. “Okay,” you whisper, letting him lead you back to your room.

The house is quiet as you walk through the halls, the weight of the day’s emotions starting to lift as you return to the familiarity of your shared space. Drew doesn’t let go of your hand the entire time, holding onto you like you’re his lifeline, like he’s afraid to let you go.

When you reach your bedroom, he pulls you into his arms again, kissing you deeply, as if trying to convey all the things he couldn’t say earlier. And you kiss him back, letting yourself get lost in the warmth of his embrace, the comfort of knowing that despite everything, you’re still in this together.

Finally, he pulls back, resting his forehead against yours as he takes a deep breath. “I’m going to do better, Y/N,” he whispers, his voice filled with determination. “I’m going to be the partner you deserve. I’m going to be here for you, no matter what.”

You smile, a soft, tired smile, but one filled with hope. “We’ll figure it out,” you say softly, cupping his cheek with your hand. “Together.”

“Together,” he echoes, pressing a kiss to your forehead before leading you to the bed.

You both climb in, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to you as you snuggle under the covers. Drew pulls you close, his arms wrapping around you as he holds you tightly, like he never wants to let you go.

And as you lay there, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of his body against yours, you feel a sense of peace that you haven’t felt in days. The road ahead might still be difficult, but you know that you’re not alone, that you have each other, and that’s all that matters.

“I love you,” Drew whispers again, his voice barely audible as he starts to drift off to sleep.

“I love you too,” you whisper back, closing your eyes and letting yourself finally relax, finally let go of the day’s tension.

As you fall asleep in his arms, you can’t help but feel a sense of hope, a sense that no matter what challenges come your way, you’ll be able to face them together.

——

ps: i have another drew fic coming soon get ready

#drew starkey imagine #drew starkey #drew starkey obx #drew starkey one shot #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey x reader #drew x reader #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron imagine

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violettwrites · 17 days

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jealousy, jealousy 🏹 daryl dixon

summary: daryl noticed you growing closer to another member of the group and becomes increasingly jealous as days go by. when you finally confront him, it leads to confessions of feelings that had been pushed down.

author’s note: hi guys !! this is just something that i vaguely wrote at work until i had time to edit it 🥲 it’s been sitting in my drafts for days now but i hope you enjoy !

don’t forget to like, reblog, leave a comment, or give me a follow ! i appreciate the support 🫶🏻

as always, my ask box is open for requests x

warnings: angst ?? vulnerable!jealous!daryl

word count: 1,295

— — —

life in the apocalypse had turned into a ( somewhat ) steady rhythm of survival, yet often overtaken with moments of fear, exhaustion, and fleeting happiness. you’d always felt fortunate enough to be apart of such a strong group— strangers that had turned into close friends and family. and as the days blurred together with long hours on the road to find a new place to call home, you had found yourself spending more time with glenn. he was easy to talk to; wise, a good listener, and had a calm presence that made the chaos of the world a little easier to handle.

but daryl noticed.

he noticed every laugh, every smile you shared with glenn. at first, he tried to shrug it off. of course you’d get along with glenn; he was a great guy, trustworthy. but the more he watched the two of you, the more he felt the knot twist in his chest, a feeling he wasn’t familiar with at all.

jealousy.

he’d never been the kind of guy to voice his emotions like that, never been the one to let himself care too much. especially in a world like this, when you could be ripped away from him in seconds. caring got people hurt, and in this world, there was no room for distractions. but no matter how much he tried to convince himself that it didn’t matter, it did. and everytime he saw you with glenn, it became harder to ignore.

days passed, and his usual gruffness turned colder, his responses to you were shorter. you had noticed the shift in his energy towards you— the way he had become distant, pretty much avoiding you completely. confusion clouded your mind as you wonder where it had gone wrong. daryl had always been protective over you, but this was different. he was pulling away from you, and you had no idea why.

after a long day of clearing out walkers from the gates of the prison the group had decided to make their new home, you found daryl sitting alone on the rooftop of the prison lookout tower, sharpening his knife. the moonlight illuminated his face, highlighting his tensed jaw. taking a deep breath, you stepped closer towards him.

“daryl,” you spoke softly, careful to not spook the male.

he didn’t look up. he continued to work on his knife, the scraping of metal filling the silence between the two of you.

“daryl.” you repeated, your words a little more sterner as you stepped towards him, minimising the space between the both of you. “what’s wrong? why are you ignoring me?”

daryl paused, his hands stalling their moment before he finally looked up, blue eyes glimmering from the moonlight. “nothin’,” he muttered, but the edge in his voice betrayed him.

you crossed your arms over you chest, brows furrowed in confusion and a little bit of frustration. “it’s not nothing. you’ve been acting weird to me for days now, and i don’t know why. what did i do?”

the brunette male scoffed, shaking his head as he stood up, sliding his knife into its holder on his belt. “ain’t about what ya did,” he muttered, his voice gruff.

“then what’s this about?” you pressed, blocking his path by stepping in front of him as he tried to walk around you. “talk to me daryl, please.” you had always been much better at confrontation than he had, and it was something he admired about you. the way you got straight to the point, instead of avoiding it all together like he did.

daryl stopped when you had stepped in front of him, his shoulders tensing. there was a long silence before he finally let out a breath, frustration and… something else flickering over his features.

“yer gettin’ real close to glenn,” he said, his voice low. almost a growl. “real close.”

you furrowed your brow in confusion, taken aback by his words. “glenn? what does he have to do with anything?”

daryl huffed, running a hand through his hair. “ya don’t see it, do ya? e’ry time i turn ‘round, yer with him. laughin’, talkin’— it’s like ya don’t even see me anymore.”

your heart skipped a beat as the realisation of his mood change set in. “wait.. are you.. jealous?”

he looked away, clenching his jaw, annoyed you had somehow caught on so quickly to his shitty mood. “ain’t about bein’ jealous. just.. i dunno.. you and him? feels like ya don’t need me around anymore.”

“daryl,” you sighed softly, stepping closer to him. “glenn’s just a friend. i’m not interested in him like that— plus he’s got the hots for maggie.” you raised a brow at him, eyes locked on to his as you gaged his reaction.

“then wha’ about me?” his eyes held your gaze, uncertainty written across his face. the question hung in the air, heavy with all the things that had been left unsaid for so long. your breath caught in your throat as you realised this was the moment. the moment to either push forward, or walk away.

“daryl,” you whispered his name again, taking a step closer to him. “i’ve always needed you around, and i always will. more than anyone else.” you watched the lump in his throat as he swallowed hard, his eyes searching yours for any hint of doubt. and when he didn’t find any, he copied you, stepping closer to you, closing the distance between your bodies.

“thought.. thought maybe ya didn’t feel the same way,” he admitted, his voice strong with vulnerability.

you reached out for him, hand pressing gently against his bicep. “i’ve always felt this way about you, daryl. i just didn’t think— i didn’t think you wanted that.”

a low breath escaped him, and he closed his eyes for a moment as if he was trying to steady himself. when he opened them again, there was a softness there that you hadn’t really seen before. a tenderness that made your heart ache. “been tryin’ to push it down,” he said. “didn’t think i had the right.. not in this world.”

you shook your head, stepping even closer to him so you were inches apart. “you have every right, daryl. we both do. the world might be broken, but we’re still here. we’re still allowed to feel.”

his hand slowly lifted, hesitating for a moment before he cupped your cheek, his thumb ghosting over the skin of your cheekbone. you leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hand causing your heart to pound against your chest.

“dunno how to do this,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“you don’t have to know,” you replied, your own voice quiet. “we’ll figure it out together.”

for a moment, everything else fell away— the dangers, the fear, the uncertainty of tomorrow. all that mattered was the way daryl was looking at you. the way his thumb continued to stroke the skin of your cheek, grounding you in this moment.

slowly, he leaned down, his forehead resting against your own. his breath was warm across your face, and for the first time in a long while, you felt safe. like everything might actually be okay.

“i’m here,” you whispered, your hands gently resting on his chest. “i’m not going anywhere.” and with that, the last of daryl dixon’s defences crumbled. he wrapped his arms tightly around you, pulling you into him as if he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. you held him just as tightly, feeling the unspoken promises in his embrace.

in a world full of loss, you had found something worth holding onto. and for the first time, daryl allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was still something left to fight for.

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hiitsm · 3 months

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Beneath the Surface: The Fourth Piece

Beneath the Surface is for 18+ only.

Angst, Hurt, Fluff & Smut is included in this Fourth Piece.

Other parts of Beneath the Surface: The Broken Heart Pieces

As Alexia walks out of the airport, a wave of weariness washes over her. The Nike shooting in Paris had been enjoyable, but the long hours of travel for just a brief two-hour shoot, followed by hurried rest at the hotel, left her feeling drained.

Yet amidst the fatigue, her mind couldn't help but dwell on you.

You are her constant thought.

You are her deepest desire.

You are all she truly needs.

However, you are also the one that she has hurt deeply.

As Alexia reached for her suitcase, a tired sigh escaped her lips, but before she could dwell on her thoughts, a message from her sister Alba popped up. Alba was asking her to come over quickly because she had a date and was in need of outfit advice. Despite her exhaustion, Alexia couldn't resist the opportunity to help her sister and perhaps enjoy some bonding time over this special evening she imagined Alba would have.

Standing in front of her sister's door, Alexia took a moment to gather herself. She knew Alba preferred a warning before she entered, so she opted to knock despite having a key. With a deep breath, she summoned a smile and tapped gently on the door.

Within moments, the door swung open, but instead of the worried expression Alexia had anticipated due to outfit stress, Alba greeted her with a mix of quiet irritation and underlying anger, a perplexing combination that Alexia couldn't quite decipher on her sister.

"Come in, tat," Alba said tersely, bypassing the usual hug that signaled something was amiss. Alexia followed her sister into the living room, feeling a sense of unease settle in as she tried to read the unfamiliar look on Alba's face.

As Alexia stepped into Alba's immaculately clean apartment, she couldn't help but feel surprised. Not a single piece of clothing lay on the ground, contrary to what she had expected. "Aren't you stressed about your date?" Alexia asked, concerned for her younger sister's unusually tense demeanor. Alba responded with a deep, irritated sigh.

"¿Qué pasa? ¿Por qué no estás feliz de verme?" Alexia asked quietly, her voice tinged with insecurity. It was unusual for Alba to become irritated so quickly, and Alexia couldn't help but wonder if she had inadvertently done something to upset her sister.

Alexia's thoughts were usually consumed by you.

By your presence.

By your feelings.

By your hurt.

But in this moment, all thoughts of you were absent.

She didn't ponder the lies she had told her mother and sister about the state of her relationship with you, nor did she dwell on the possibility that they might now know the truth.

That she had caused you pain.

It was a strange and unsettling realization that in this crucial moment, she wasn't thinking about you at all. A realization she couldn't afford not to have, especially now when it seemed most critical.

"Pensé en emparejar a mi hermana y mentir sobre ciertas cosas también," Alba scoffed, rolling her eyes at her sister. With each passing second, Alexia felt her irritation growing.

"What do you mean, lie?" she asked, her voice rising slightly in volume.

"Our mami called me last night, absolutely distressed, saying you lied about your relationship status and that y/n is really hurting," Alba shouted, unable to contain her emotions any longer.

Alexia felt a sinking feeling in her chest as her sister's words hit home. "This has been going on for weeks, maybe even months. ¿Alguna vez planeaste ser honesto con nosotros?" Alba's voice softened, filled now with hurt rather than anger.

"Do you realize how foolish I must have looked? I've been texting y/n about you, about us, about our family," Alba lectured her sister, her tone filled with a mix of frustration and concern.

"She kept responding so kindly, but I can only imagine how much she must have been hurting. Our mami still has pictures of the two of you up on her walls. When y/n needed a place to stay, she saw all those reminders. Can you imagine how that must have made her feel?"

As Alexia listened to her sister's words, she couldn't help but feel the weight of her own actions pressing down on her. She knew deep down that Alba was right, and that she deserved this lecture.

"And the most foolish thing is that you don't care. You don't care that those pictures are still up on the wall," Alba's words cut deep into Alexia's heart. It hurt her immensely because she did care.

She cared deeply about those pictures on her mother's wall.

She cared about you.

She cares about you a lot.

All she ever wanted was to make things right, never intending to hurt you so profoundly.

But now, faced with the consequences of her actions, she felt lost and overwhelmed, unsure of how to make amends.

"No, me importa. Realmente lo hago," Alexia confessed, tears threatening to spill from her eyes as she struggled to articulate her feelings. "I know I've been foolish," she admitted, her voice breaking completely. "I want to make it right," she gasped for air, overwhelmed with emotion. Alba, understanding her sister's pain, drew her close into a comforting embrace.

"Quiero hacerlo bien pero no sé cómo," Alexia murmured against her sister's shoulder, her voice muffled by tears.

"You need to start by being honest. Honest with us, but most importantly, honest with yourself," Alba spoke gently yet firmly, her words carrying the weight of disappointment and concern.

"The Putellas don't break someone's heart by writing a letter and disappearing without any explanation, by ghosting someone completely from their life," Alba's voice held a firm but caring tone, emphasizing her deep concern.

"I don't know how you can make this right, but I do know that y/n is still hurting a lot." Her words carried a weight of sadness and empathy, expressing the gravity of the situation.

"Pero te ayudaré a intentarlo," Alba added softly with a gentle sigh, offering her sister a glimmer of hope and support amidst the difficult conversation.

"Quiero intentarlo," Alexia said with determination in her voice.

"¡Bebita!" you hear softly at first, then more urgently. "¡Bebita, wake up!" The voice grows louder, accompanied by a gentle hand caressing your cheek. Reluctant to leave the comfort of your dream, you resist waking up, but eventually, your eyes flutter open.

You see your girlfriend leaning over you, her damp hair cascading slightly to one side after her post-training shower. The bed dips as she settles next to you, and a soft smile plays on her lips. "You're awake," she murmurs, her tone affectionate.

You stretch lightly before shifting your weight onto her lap, finding a comfortable position despite the awkwardness. "Hmm, someone's a little clingy," she teases, her voice tender.

"What time is it?" you ask in your raspy morning voice, a sound that she finds irresistibly attractive.

"It's a bit after 9 am," she replies, meeting your gaze with warmth in her eyes.

"How early was your training?" confusion lingers in your expression, prompting a chuckle from her.

"It was just a quick gym session by myself, bebita. I don't have team training today," she answers softly, knowing you'll appreciate the reassurance.

She lightly stroked your bare back, grounding you in the moment with a sensation that mirrored the dream you'd just left. Your cheeks flushed red with a hint of embarrassment, and you awkwardly shifted out of her embrace, pulling the covers up to your neck. Alexia looked up, concern flickering across her features.

"Are you cold, mi vida? Should I turn up the heating?" She moved towards the heater, ready to adjust it, but you quickly reassured her with a strange smile. "No, it's okay," you murmured.

"Okay, what's going on?" Her voice was gentle yet knowing. She crossed her arms, her eyebrow arching teasingly, a look that usually prompted you to spill everything. But today, you resisted, trying your best to compose yourself.

"Please, can you make me a coffee? I'll be there in a second," you said, your voice tinged with insecurity.

"Fine..." she acquiesced with a hint of mischief, darting away momentarily only to return to the bed in a flash, faster than your groggy state could anticipate. "But you're coming with me, amor," she declared, grinning mischievously as she wrested the covers from your grasp and swept them off the bed.

You lay there, uncertain of what to do next, feeling exposed under her appreciative gaze as she scanned your nearly naked body, your boxers clinging to your skin. Her eyes widened as they settled on the wet spot between your legs. Flustered, you instinctively covered yourself with your hand, cheeks burning crimson.

"Please, just leave," you pleaded softly, feeling vulnerable and overwhelmed by the sudden intrusion into your intimate moment.

"Did you..." Alexia began, unsure of how to react to the situation unfolding before her.

"It was just a dream with you in it, I promise," you responded quickly, attempting to reassure her.

Alexia felt a surge of arousal at the thought that you had a wet dream about her. Yet, seeing you shielding yourself from her view made her pause. You looked as though you didn't feel safe with her in that vulnerable moment. She knew about your past relationship, how toxic it had been with your previous partner. All she wanted now was to reassure you that everything was okay, that it was completely normal.

"It's okay," Alexia said softly, moving closer to you with a gentle touch. "It's completely normal, mi amor. You don't have to feel embarrassed with me. I'm here for you, and I want you to feel safe." She spoke with sincerity, hoping her words would offer you the comfort and reassurance you needed in that moment of vulnerability.

"You do believe me, right?" you asked, a hint of fear in your voice.

"I trust you, and I will always believe you, mi vida," Alexia reassured you with a soft smile, her touch bringing a sense of calmness back to you.

"Is it weird that I want you now?" you blurted out, cheeks flushing once more as the realization hit you.

Alexia gently cupped your cheeks in her hands. "No, that will never be weird. I want you now just as much as you want me," she said reassuringly before leaning in to kiss you softly on the lips. Her touch and words filled you with warmth and a deep sense of acceptance, melting away any remaining insecurity or doubt.

The two of you lost yourselves in each other's kisses, the intimacy deepening with each tender touch. Alexia's body weight shifted slightly onto yours, her hands gently caressing your breasts, eliciting soft moans from you in response. Your hips instinctively lifted, seeking more friction, but Alexia was still partially seated on the bed, leaving you wanting.

The air was thick with desire and the sweet tension of longing as you both savored the closeness and the gentle exploration of each other's bodies.

Alexia grinned slightly as she pulled away, her finger trailing lightly over your body until it stopped at the wet patch on your boxers. "I love that view, amor," she murmured, her voice filled with appreciation for the slick contrast.

You looked at her and couldn't help but notice the desire in her eyes, which only heightened your own arousal. "Are you as turned on as me?" you asked, biting your lower lip suggestively.

Understanding your hint, Alexia teasingly pulled off her clothes, leaving on her Brazilian string. "Do you see that, mi vida?" she said cheekily, gesturing to herself.

You nodded eagerly, taking in the enticing sight. Unable to resist, your hand grazed over her underwear, feeling the slick fabric that mirrored your own arousal.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you in the gym," she whispered huskily into your ear, nibbling softly on your earlobe.

And then she was lying flush against your body, her weight pressing down gently as your legs spread instinctively. She began to grind against your core, the sensation of the barely-there fabric intensifying the pleasure for both of you.

You both knew that it wouldn't take long to reach that edge, to tip over into ecstasy together. The air was filled with anticipation and desire, each movement bringing you closer to the blissful release you both craved.

"Y/n..?" you heard from a distance. "Y/n..!" someone shook you gently, pulling you out of your reverie.

Blinking, you refocused on your colleague who looked at you with irritation. "God, where were you just now?" she sighed impatiently. "Please, keep it together and help us clear these tables."

You immediately snapped into action, feeling slightly embarrassed that you couldn't shake off the memory that had consumed your thoughts all day.

From waking up in the morning to commuting to work, and now at work itself, your mind had been fixated on that moment.

The moment when you had felt so safe and cherished with her.

With your girlfriend.

With your ex-girlfriend.

With Alexia.

For weeks after receiving that heartbreaking letter, your thoughts were consumed by her. You wrestled with the pain she caused, yet also cherished the memories of the beautiful moments you shared together.

You believed that confiding in Eli would bring you closure, but now you realize that closure remains elusive without understanding why Alexia chose to walk away.

Reflecting on it all, you find yourself caught between the bittersweet nostalgia of what was and the lingering ache of unanswered questions. Despite the passage of time, her absence still casts a shadow over your heart, leaving you yearning for clarity that seems just out of reach.

And then, to add to the confusion, someone walked in.

She bore a striking resemblance to your ex-girlfriend. Your heart skipped a beat, but you dared not raise your hopes any higher.

Yet, there she stood, your ex-girlfriend, looking unsure of herself, hands tucked nervously into her pockets.

She appeared smaller somehow, vulnerable.

At that moment, you realized you didn't want the answers anymore.

Confronting her seemed too painful now, her presence stirring up emotions you had tried to bury.

But despite your inner turmoil, your feet carried you towards her.

Your body ached for her, and if you were honest with yourself, so did your mind.

As you approached, uncertainty hung heavy in the air. The sight of her brought a flood of memories, both joy and heartache, that you weren't sure you were ready to face again.

"...Hi," she struggled to get the words out, her voice trembling with uncertainty. But you remained silent, unable to muster a response. You could only gaze at her with wide, conflicted eyes that held a mix of confusion and hurt.

"I was wondering if you would be willing to talk," she continued, her insecurity palpable, tugging at your heartstrings. You knew you would always have a soft spot for her.

"Not here, obviously," she hurriedly added, her cheeks flushing slightly with embarrassment at her awkward statement. "But I knew you would be here sometime this week."

"It's okay," you managed to say, surprising yourself with the ease of your acceptance. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "I mean, I would like to," you added, your voice tinged with hope as you sought answers.

"Tonight at my place, 8 pm?" you asked tentatively, your gaze searching hers for any sign of hesitation.

"Si, I'll see you there," she replied determinedly, a hint of relief evident in her voice.

"Okay," you said softly, the weight of the moment sinking in.

"Okay," she echoed, standing awkwardly before finally saying, "Okay, see you tonight," and turning to leave, her awkwardness making you chuckle softly.

As she walked away, you couldn't help but feel a mix of anticipation and trepidation about what the evening would bring, hoping it would bring clarity and closure to the lingering questions in your heart.

As you made your way towards the dishes area of your workplace, preparing to immerse yourself in work once more, a subtle but unmistakable feeling washed over you.

It was as if the fourth broken piece of your heart lay right before you, waiting to be picked up and nurtured once again.

The weight of past memories and unresolved emotions lingered in the air, mingling with a sense of tentative hope for closure and healing.

Each step forward felt like a small leap towards reclaiming a part of yourself that had been left wounded and unattended for too long.

With a deep breath, you steeled yourself for the tasks ahead, knowing that tonight's meeting held the potential to mend what had been fractured and bring solace to a heart that had carried its pain for far too long.

Note: it took a bit longer than expected, but I hope you're still enjoying this series. There's more to come, and I'm looking forward to continuing the journey with you all.

#woso x reader #woso #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso smut #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas one shot #alexia putellas fanfic #alexia putellas smut #alexia putellas imagine

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barcaatthemoon · 5 days

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sick of the sun || katrina gorry x clara markstedt x teen!reader ||

you pass out at practice.

the weather would have been perfect if you weren't playing football. summer breaks were usually never so nice for you. the sun had been shining brightly all day with the temperature steadily rising throughout. you were careful to stay hydrated, but it didn't feel like it was nearly enough. your head had been absolutely pounding for the better part of an hour, and you weren't even halfway through training.

"alright ladies, take a couple of laps, and then we'll head in for film," the coach announced. you let out a big sigh in relief as you stood up. katrina and clara were both behind you in the cluster of teammates. you hated running with the group, so you didn't mind starting a bit faster or earlier to keep ahead. it was better to be early to the film sessions and get a good seat anyway.

you did well to keep ahead for the first lap easily. it was as you neared the midway point for your last one that trouble arose. at first, it was a little stumble. katrina didn't even notice it initially. with clara's head clear above everybody else's she could see the way you started to stumble before you fell down.

clara would have loved to claim getting to you first, but she had just barely been beaten to you by harper. since you had moved in with clara and katrina for the season, you had become like a big sister to the smallest aussie. you loved living with them, it was your favorite part of being at west ham. they treated you like you were one of their own, never letting you forget that you'd always be taken care of.

"harper, baby, i need you to move away from (y/n) for a moment," katrina said as she tried to separate the two of you. instead of letting her come closer, harper started crying as she hugged you tighter. "harper, we need to get her inside. come on, i'll hold your hand and we can stay with her in the trainer's if you'd like."

"not leaving her," harper mumbled sadly through her tears. katrina looked at a loss for what to do. each time that she tried to move the young girl away from you, harper broke into a fit of tears. clara tried her best to comfort katrina, but the swede was terrified for you.

"she's moving." clara nudged katrina, who looked down at you just as your eyes began to open. without warning, clara lunged forward and pulled you into a tight hug. you had no clue what was going on, but you weren't going to push clara away. it was obvious to you that she needed this, and you were more than happy to let her have it. she had comforted you countless times since you had begun staying with them.

"guys, come on, she needs to get to the trainer's," katrina said. you could tell that she didn't want to have to tell them to get off of you, but it was necessary. clara sighed and pulled harper off of you as she got up. katrina helped you onto your feet, and you were comfortably sandwiched between the two older women as they walked you to the trainer's.

there wasn't really anything their tests could pinpoint wrong with you. it was pretty obvious as soon as you got in there that you had been overheated and exhausted. the trainers got you sitting on one of the uncomfortable little check-in benches with an iv of electrolytes and a couple bottles of water. you had to finish all of it before they'd let you head over to the cafeteria for lunch.

"is (y/n) having a baby?" harper asked as she settled comfortably onto your lap. you tried to offer her a drink of one of your waters, but katrina and clara both silently scolded you for it.

"what? no!" you hadn't meant to immediately panic and get a bit flustered, but you felt like that question had come out of nowhere.

"(y/n) isn't having a baby. why do you think she is harps?" katrina asked. she was trying so hard not to laugh as she looked between your panicked expression and clara's very expressive rollercoaster of emotions.

"she's got a tube like clara had at the hospital," harper said as she reached for your iv line. everybody relaxed a bit, but clara honestly looked a bit shaken up even as the four of you made your way to get something to eat.

unsurprisingly, they kept a close eye on you for the rest of day. you were excused from the gym session and sent to look over different strategies. it was boring, and by the end of the two hour gym session, you swore that all of the words were melting together and forming new words. still, you persisted until clara came and got you to get ready to go back home.

"alright ladies, it is nap time!" katrina said dramatically with a clap of her hands. harper started to groan and drag her feet until she saw you very comfortably lay down on the sectional with clara. "are we all aware that we have beds to sleep in?"

"couch naps are, um, chef," clara said proudly. you bit your lip to hold in your laughter, having tried to teach clara some of the slang that you'd been learning on the internet.

"chief, clar, it's chief," you corrected. clara brushed it off, but you could see the pink hue to her cheeks anyway. "just standing over there by yourself and join us. you can lay on the other side of harper."

"alright, fine, but just so i can keep an eye on you." despite katrina's words, you knew that she really did want to join all of you. the couch was decently sized, but it was still a bit cramped. however, you liked to see it as an opportunity for everybody to get in close and cuddle. besides, it wasn't nearly as cramped as it would be if kyra, charli, and macca were there with you. that was like playing human tetris, but you still loved it.

#answered #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #teen!reader #katrina gorry x clara markstedt x reader #katrina gorry x reader #clara markstedt x reader

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chuuyascumsock · 11 months

Text

I am NOT a Sadist (I am) || Minors DNI

Summary; Sorry, not sorry. I love when there’s hurt feelings with emotional make-up sex :)

Tags; Chuuya Nakahara/Reader, Afab reader, Angst, Mentions Of Depression, Hurt/Comfort, I Totally Projected My Poor Communication Skills Onto The MC, Also Self Sabotaging, But She Gets Better I Swear, I Project A Lot Actually Lmao, Sounds Kind Of Like An Unhealthy Relationship At First But They Fix It, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, They Do Hurt Each Other’s Feelings A Little, Obviously There’s Crying, Pet Names (Baby, Doll, Sweetheart, Sweet Girl, etc.), Mention Of Phone Sex, Handjob, Fingering, Emotional Sex, Make-Up Sex, Creampie, Lowkey Breeding Kink If You Squint, Actually Pretty Vanilla For Once, Pussy Is Chuuya’s Therapy, Classic Missionary, Missionary Accomplished, Why Does No One Talk About Chuuya Going On His Overseas Trips And Leaving His S/O For Months At A Time, I Feel Like It’s Such A Good Angst Idea, My Longest Oneshot Yet Btw At A 5k Wordcount.

The honeymoon phase of your relationship with Chuuya ended quicker than you had anticipated. It felt like a slap in the face in all honesty, unexpecting of what you were really getting into as a normal civilian. Being married to an executive of the port mafia had its many upsides, yet no one really seemed to talk about the downsides and struggles of the mental toll that weighed on your conscience that came with the title as Chuuya’s wife.

Chuuya had always been there when you needed him, and you were grateful that even with his rough exterior and conflict with opening up emotionally he could empathize with your varying issues and emotional outbursts. You tried not to be emotionally high maintenance for the sake of Chuuya already having so much on his plate, and things had seemed to be going well for the time being.

Until he went away for his first overseas trip during your marriage.

It was normal for Chuuya to take overseas trips while you were dating, some lasting a few days to a few weeks at most and during those times you often texted him throughout the day about how much you missed him before calling later on when he was lying exhausted in a hotel room to talk about how both of your days had gone. Of course, it had often led to phone sex, ending with the camera angled against a pillow while your fingers worked in and out of your neglected, needy pussy– your face buried into his pillow and smothering your senses with what was left of his presence in your apartment. And Chuuya would stroke his throbbing length at the sight with languid motions, thumb swiping over his leaking tip as he murmured through the speaker about how he wished he could be there to feel you split open on his cock and fill you up with his cum. And every time he came back from his trips, your relationship seemingly grew stronger from the distance, spending all his free time with you whenever he got the chance.

And then Mori sent him away on a half year mission to Europe and everything seemed to go to shit.

It was different when you had been dating as it was for a few days to some weeks at most, but a six-month excursion made your throat clench and your heart ache with saudade. You tried to keep a positive mindset, yet it was harder as each day had passed and Chuuya grew too tired from the days’ events to even call anymore. Messages on his side grew shorter and dull by the end of the third month, only sending a small good morning and good night text with the occasional ‘I love you’.

Instead of bringing it up or attempting to fix it, you felt a sense of hopelessness and withdrew from him as well, not wanting to burden him with your spamming messages or feelings that could hinder him while dealing with an important mission. You spent the next three months stewing in a depressive state, loneliness eating away at you as you went day to day going to your job and coming back to an empty apartment. You stopped going out with your friends, stopped bothering to take care of yourself– completely ruining your sleeping and eating schedule in the process– leaving you with dark bags under your eyes and slightly paler looking complexion. You had grown so comfortable in Chuuya’s love and had no idea how to handle the situation you were in, fearing of saying something that would upset him.

When Chuuya had come back, he hadn’t noticed the change in your behavior– too tired himself to see the toll his absence had taken on you. But to you, your straining relationship was apparent, and it only fueled your depression as Chuuya spent less time with you when he got back home than he used to when you were dating. He was either working on other missions given by Mori within the area or spent his free time sleeping. You barely felt as if you were married anymore, your relationship seeming more like roommates who rarely ever interacted every passing day.

Your deteriorating mental health was beginning to wear your mind and patience thin, leading to a series of outbursts and fights between the two of you. You’d snap at him with an antagonizing start, and he’d finish with a frustrating end, either leaving to cool off or going to sleep on the couch. You could tell it was getting to him because he confronted you one day after he had mentioned that Mori was thinking about sending him on another grueling months-long overseas mission in America and you gave him the cold shoulder, closing yourself off from him.

“What the hell has been your problem lately, huh? You’ve been acting shitty for the last few weeks and it’s really starting to get on my nerves,” He gripes, crossing his arms over his chest defensively as he leans against the kitchen counter.

“I don’t have a problem, you’re the one starting things,” You tiredly glare at the words in your novel, wanting to read and forget everything falling apart around you, but it’s hard when Chuuya persists.

Chuuya scoffs, “Bullshit, you have this nasty attitude and it's been bothering the hell out of me– so what the hell is your problem?” He repeats, his eyes burning holes into the side of your apathetic expression from across the room.

“Good thing you won’t have to deal with it for long, huh?” You respond flatly, avoiding his question once again. You and Chuuya have always had an issue with things like this due to him being blunt when he was upset about something while you tended to dance around it and drawl the problem on longer than it had to be than if you were to talk about your problems from the start.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” His jaw sets, teeth clenching behind his scowl, “You know it annoys the hell out of me when you say cryptic shit like that— answer my question.” Chuuya’s temper was something no one enjoyed testing and you once feared setting him off, but now you couldn’t find it in you to care whether he blew up on you or not.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready for your next mission?” You’re metaphorically poking more than just a bear at this point; this is an entire fucking lion you’re sticking your hand into the mouth of– waiting for it to rip you apart.

Chuuya’s steps are heavy as he approaches you with a stern glare, “I’m not leaving until you tell me, I’m tired of these games, [name].”

His words make you snort bitterly as you mock, “Yeah, okay– like you’re not just Mori’s lapdog– at his every beck and call.” You know he’d leave the minute Mori sent a text or called asking where he was.

Chuuya’s face contorts in mild surprise and slight hurt at your words, not expecting you to stoop so low as to refer to him as a lapdog for Mori. “I really don’t know why the fuck you’re acting like this, but it’s seriously pissin’ me off. Can you just tell me what I supposedly did wrong to make you treat me like this? Because last time I checked, I didn’t fuckin’ do anything,” His statement was ironic in the sense that him not doing anything was the problem.

Your nostrils flare with a deep exhale in spiteful amusement, though nothing was amusing about it, because you knew you were going to regret everything you said after the fight was over.

“Of course, you didn’t,” There’s clear sarcasm in your tone, your hands now messing with the pages of your novel mindlessly.

“Why won’t you just talk to me!? I can’t read your mind– how can I fix a problem when you won’t tell me what I did wrong?” He starts to raise his voice in frustration. You can see his fists clenching from the corners of your eyes.

You only remove yourself further emotionally by shutting down completely. It was common for you to go completely non-verbal in any argument, the stress of the conflict physically affecting you in ways that kept you from speaking– like your throat tightening and tongue growing heavy in your mouth. This was another issue between you and Chuuya as he was the type to raise his voice whilst arguing to make himself and his feelings known, the complete opposite of yourself.

An inkling of doubt buries in your chest as you begin to think that maybe you’re not as compatible with Chuuya as you thought you were.

Chuuya notices your silence and he feels his impatience growing, his foot starting to tap against the floor with agitation as his hands fall to rest on his hips, “God dammit, [name], can you just tell me? I’m not in the mood to play detective and try to figure out why you’re playing your fucking games, I have shit to do.”

You find it in you to respond, though it’s weak and filled with animosity, “You always have shit to do.”

An exasperated sigh leaves Chuuya as he stands in front of you, “Is that what this is about? Because I have work? A job? Believe it or not, the mafia isn’t as lenient as to give me a day off, sweetheart,” He says sarcastically, throwing his hands up for emphasis. “Sorry that I have to serve an organization that will literally have my head if god forbid, I even thought about leaving!”

“You don’t even spend time with me anymore when you do have time off,” You rasp, your eyes set on the crumbling pages underneath your fingertips.

“I’m exhausted because I’m constantly working my ass off! Sorry that I can’t do fuck whatever and whenever like you can! Unlike you, I actually work for the things I want instead of sitting around and waiting for it to just fall into my lap!” Your brows furrow at his words, knowing it’s utter bullshit. But it still gets under your skin.

You could easily quit your job and live off of the makings of what Chuuya has— he’s even offered the idea before— but you wanted to keep a sense of independence and to continue to be productive instead of a burden that burns cash. Your conclusion is that it was to get back at your lapdog comment.

“And you know what? You have nothing to fuckin’ complain about because you get everything you want. Are you just bored? Is that why you’re starting shit? Or is it those friends of yours filling your head with bullshit?” He leans over to your eye level, his hands resting above his knees for support with a firm stare into the side of your face as you refuse to make eye contact with him.

You were over this. All of it. You were tired of the tension, the fighting, feeling the way you were.

Which led the next words to slip out from your mouth without a second thought, “I want a break.”

Chuuya’s scowl quickly shifted to a look of pure bewilderment, to immense hurt and slight panic, then to anger, “A break? You can’t just take a break whenever something doesn’t go your way, that’s not how this works.”

“I don’t care, I want a break,” It’s getting difficult to talk again as you feel your eyes begin to water.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me that,” He demands, almost hesitantly.

It takes minutes for you to finally look into his piercing gray eyes without crying and repeat your words, “I want a break.”

His body straightens and he brings a hand to rub at his eyes, his other hand on his hip. He seems disappointed and a whole lot of other emotions, but mostly frustrated at this whole ordeal. There’s a deafening silence before he drags his hand down his face and lets it fall to his side, “You want a break? Fine, I’ll tell Mori I’m going on the mission then and be gone by tomorrow morning— you’ll get your break.” He then storms off to finish getting ready for work, leaving you to sit alone on the couch, regretting everything that just happened.

And even when you still have the chance to stop him from walking out the door and just talk to him, you don’t. Instead, you stare down at the ring on your finger numbly, listening to his heavy footfalls as they move towards the front door and then the slamming that follows when he leaves.

You soon break down crying after, feeling as if you’ve lost everything. You know you could easily fix it with a simple text of wanting to talk things out, but the self-sabotaging nature in you refused to move a muscle. You cry for hours until your body grows exhausted, and you fall asleep on the couch in a tangled mess of some throw blankets and decorative pillows.

Hours later, Chuuya enters your shared apartment quietly, taking his hat off as he runs a hand through his hair. He’s tired just as much as you are with how things are going in your relationship, and he doesn’t know what to do. He’s lost and trying so desperately to figure out how to fix it, but he can’t when you won’t tell him what the problem is. He knows you struggle deep down with telling others about how you feel, and it makes him feel hopeless at times when you won’t even tell him how you feel.

His eyes trail over the living room before they fall on you and the blankets your body is buried under, your sleeping face peeking through. Chuuya takes light steps over to the couch before crouching in front of you and taking off one of his gloves, his hand slowly reaching out to move a few baby hairs away from your face. His eyes soften when he rubs away the tear stains on your cheeks with his thumb.

There’s a small ache in his chest from the events and words exchanged earlier, feeling a growing tightness in his throat. He didn’t mean it when he said those things and he knows you didn’t mean what you said. But that doesn’t mean they didn’t hurt any less.

He begins to feel guilt weighing on his consciousness. He replays all your expressions and words in his mind and starts to think about your reaction to the whole reason the fight started in the first place. It takes a few moments of him silently sitting next to the couch and caressing your face mindlessly until he finally realizes what’s been wrong the whole time.

When you wake up hours later, you’re no longer on the couch, but placed comfortably in your bed. You rub the crust from your eyes and feel a heavy weight in your chest like a bag of stones when the spot next to you is void of Chuuya. ‘He actually left,’ You thought, but you knew you had no one to blame but yourself— even if you had hoped that he would stay. Now fully awake, you slip out of bed sluggishly and shuffle out your bedroom.

A faint voice from the living room catches your attention and you notice that it’s the TV. There’s a small spark of hope that flickers in your stomach as you slowly creep into the living room. Relief settles in your heart to see the back of Chuuya’s head peeking from the couch. You make your way around the couch timidly until you’re in Chuuya’s sights. He stares tiredly at the TV before he sees you move into his view from the corner of his eye and looks over to you.

“I… thought you were going to go on the mission…” You whisper, anxiously twisting and fidgeting with the end of your oversized shirt that slightly hangs off your shoulders.

“I had Mori get someone else to do it,” Chuuya responds quietly, his eyes traveling your figure from top to bottom before propping an arm on the backrest of the couch as a silent invitation for you to sit next to him.

As soon as you sit next to him, his arm shifts until his callous hand rests on the nape of your neck, rubbing at your skin in a soothing manner. He pulls you into his side after a few moments and turns his face slightly to press a soft kiss against your hairline.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around,” He starts off, sincere in each word as he continues, “Why didn’t you say anything?” It sounds almost rhetorical because you know he knows why on a surface level, but he doesn’t know why.

You’re silent for a bit before hesitantly answering, “I didn’t want to stress you out by making you feel like you had to constantly tend to me.”

“You’re my wife, not a burden. No matter how stressed out I am, I don’t want you to ever think that you can’t come to me with your feelings or just to bother me. I know I was gone for a long time, and I shouldn’t’ve become as distant as I had, but–” He sighs out in exasperation, “–Baby, you’ve gotta communicate with me. I don’t wanna fight like this and worry about our marriage. I want us to work out– I need us to work out because…” Chuuya trails off before moving his body to turn towards you and tilt your chin up with his other hand to look you in the eyes.

“I need you, [name]. You’re my person. Okay?”

Your chest throbs and aches at his words as his slate gray eyes flicker over your face and then meet your now watering eyes, “You’re my person too, Chuuya. I’m sorry…” You croak out through quivering lips and break down into tears, leaning forward to bury your face into his chest. “M’sorry– didn’t mean anything I said last night– won’t do it again,” You stumble over your words through muffled sobs.

Chuuya moves his hand from your chin to hold the back of your head, pressing you into his chest as he kisses the top of your head, “I know you didn’t, sweetheart. I didn’t mean what I said either. You know I love you, right?”

You nod, your small sobs and hiccups muted by his loose tank top as you hug your arms around his torso to pull him to you as close as possible, “I love you too…”

He pulls you back reluctantly from your embrace and cups your face in his hands, wiping away your tears with his thumbs, “I promise that I’ll make an effort to be a better husband, I don’t want you to feel like that ever again. I shouldn’t have neglected you like that and made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me. That’s the last thing that I want.”

“I’m gonna do better too, promise,” You sniffle, trying to hold back from anymore tears falling down your face, “Wanna be better for you.”

“I wanna be better for you too, doll,” He murmurs before his face grows closer to yours to place a soft, innocent kiss against your lips.

Your hands come to clasp over his own that cup your face and your eyes lull into his fond gaze, “I missed you,” You whisper with longing.

“I missed you too, baby. It killed me not being able to wake up next to you every morning n’see your pretty face,” He exhales gently, kissing you again.

Your heart stutters at his words and you reciprocate the kiss, refusing to pull away as quickly as before. When your lashes flutter open, you lean your face into his touch, “I need you, Chuuya,” And it’s clear to him that it wasn’t meant in just an innocent manner.

“Yeah? Missed me that much, sweet girl?” His nose nudges against yours affectionately before capturing your lips into a sensual kiss. Feeling his lips smother against yours and the ring on his finger to remind you of his undying love and devotion to you only encourages the simmering heat in your chest and lower stomach. And when he mumbles a muffled, “C’mere,” against your lips, you’re quick to climb into his lap and thread a hand into his ginger hair. He hums in amusement at your eagerness and moves his lips to trail pecks along your jaw and down your throat, “Always were so needy f’me and I fuckin’ love it– love everything about you, doll.” He groans under his breath, hands heavily groping at any part of your plush body to keep you against him.

“Only for you, it’s always been you,” You breathe out with a shaky exhale and Chuuya is unable to hide the small whimper that escapes the back of his throat.

“Fuck, it’s always been you too, doll. I love you so much it hurts,” He pulls you back down into a desperate and hungry open-mouthed kiss, his tongue seeking out until his muscle is entangling with yours.

Your face flushes with warmth as you mold your lips against his feverishly, head tilting to deepen the kiss until you’re both panting for air into each other’s mouths, “Please…” You plead, squirming in his lap.

“I know, babydoll, I feel it too,” Chuuya groans quietly, feeling your thinly clothed pussy skim over the bulge in his gym shorts. “Wanna take this slow though, need to feel all of you, okay?” His hands cup the bottom of your thighs as he moves off the couch to stand up, your lips not parting for even a second as he makes his way to your bedroom and over to the bed. When his shins bump against the bottom frame of the bed, he leans over to lay you down on the mattress gently, lips leaving yours to move back down the expanse of your neck. You shiver, fingers messily tangling into his locks of hair whilst your other hand finds its way in between your bodies to run your hand over his erection. “F-Fuck,” Chuuya breathes out against the skin of your throat, hips jerking forward into your touch. “God, it’s been so long, I almost came,” He admits with embarrassment before latching onto a small patch of your skin to suckle at, pressing kisses to the spot occasionally.

“Baby, please— wanna touch you so bad,” Was all you had to whine before he slips his baggy gym shorts off to reveal his stiff, throbbing cock. Your hand wraps around him, thumb pressing to his leaking slit to swipe at the precum dribbling out to spread it along his length with a few pumps of your hand. There’s a quiet “schlick” each time your wrist flicks to draw your hand back up to his angry mushroom tip before moving back down to the base of his shaft.

Chuuya is unashamed when he lets out airy moans against your neck that’s now littered with his love marks, “Shit, you’re s’fuckin’ good, baby— just like that.” His right hand finds its way under your large shirt to grab at your underwear and pull at it until it tears off you.

“Chuuya,” You whine in complaint, watching him toss the now torn fabric onto the floor, “I liked those.”

“S’okay, I’ll get you more, sweetheart, promise,” His teeth dig into his bottom lip as he slips his middle and ring finger through your folds to spread your glistening sex open. “Look at how fucking wet you are, you like jerkin’ me off that much, pretty girl?” He groans, eyes glued to your hole clenching around nothing.

You bury your face into the crook of his neck timidly as your hand pumping around his cock falters slightly from the way he talks, “C-Chuuya…”

Chuuya chuckles before softly moaning into the side of your head, face nuzzling affectionately into your hair, “C’mon, doll, don’t be shy, look at how your sweet little cunt takes my fingers.”

Flustered, you peek from his neck to watch his digits dip into your arousal, dragging them up to circle over your clit a few times and then slipping down to sink into your pulsing walls. Whilst his fingers weren’t considered long, they have you twitching from pleasure with how thick they are. “Feels good,” You slur out as your hand squeezes around the base of his cock.

“Yeah? You love it when I stretch this pussy out with my fat fingers, huh?” He sucks in a short breath as he tries not to come right then and there in your hand as he fingers his digits in and out of your squelching pussy. “My sweet girl likes having her hole stuffed by her husband, hm,” His fingers work faster in and out of your cunt as he angles his thumb to draw rough circles into your needy clit.

Your grip and stroking around his length only continues to falter as your thighs spasm softly, “M’gonna come— fuck— Chuu, noo, no, no…” You squirm, your other hand tugs his hair.

“What’s wrong, doll?” Chuuya’s fingers slow to a stop, causing you to whimper from the ebbing buildup of your orgasm. He’s the same as you when he feels your hand come to a stop around his shaft.

“Wanna come on your cock,” You mumble into him, “Want you to fill me up with your cum.”

Chuuya feels his heart thrum in his throat wildly as he hears you speak before making quick work of your shirt and his tank top until you're both as bare as you were when you were brought into the world. “Yeah? Need me to fill your cute pussy up until my cum is spilling outta ya?” He hovers over you between your spread thighs as he hooks your legs over his hips.

“Just wanna feel you close to me,” You admit with a sweet and quiet voice, your legs drawing him in until his throbbing cock is rubbing between your pussy lips with his tip nudging at your puffy clit.

His eyes widen barely before softening, his movements becoming less erratic and eager as he leans down to place a gentle kiss against your lips. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head, doll, m’gonna take care of ya like I always do.” He whispers, his right hand moving to guide the tip of his cock against the entrance of your core. Much like his fingers, his thick length bullies into your warm pussy slowly, stretching and splitting you open on his cock. “Fuuuuck, baby, you take me so well. Can’t get enough of seeing you stretch open on me.”

Your legs tighten around him as you feel his hips press against yours until his balls are flush with your ass, “You’re s’big— it hurts every time, but it hurts good,” A small whimper leaves you as your hands grip at the bedsheets.

When Chuuya pulls away, he watches his cock twitch from the loss of warmth your tight hole provided before seeing it stretch you back open to fill you. “God, I’ll never get over you,” He hisses through his teeth, pistoning his cock in and out of you at an agonizing pace, “Your pussy was made for me.”

Chuuya’s gaze isn’t on where your bodies connect for long before he’s back to hovering over you, pinning your hands above your head. They’re placed palm up on top of one another before being locked in place with his left hand interlocking your fingers. The action makes your heart tighten with affection as well as your fingers when you squeeze his hand. The subtle noise of metal clinking from your wedding bands only makes your heart swell with pure unadulterated love for him further. Your eyes start to water again from the overwhelming emotions and love you feel for him.

He squeezes your hand back in comfort, eyes studying your teary face, “You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that, doll?” He says out of nowhere, “M’so lucky to have you.”

You clench around him as you stare back through blurry eyes back into his focused ones, moaning from the way his tip kisses at your g-spot with each thrust. “Mm— Lucky to have you too— you’re so good to me, Chuu,” You mewl out, feeling your stomach twist and coil with intensity.

“Want you to come for me, please, baby— wanna make you come,” Chuuya’s words grow more pitchy and airier as he reaches his right hand down to rub at your throbbing clit with vigor.

“A-Ah, fuck—“ Your body arches, hips erratically bucking into his, “C-Coming..! Shit, s’too much.” You sob, tears slipping down your temples and into the mattress. Your cries are soon silenced by Chuuya’s lips swallowing your noises in a passionate, yet sloppy kiss. You muffle incoherently against his lips, but he knows it’s a repeated line of I love you’s as your nails dig into the back of his hand and you cream around his length.

As your walls spasm around his twitching cock, a guttural groan leaves his throat and he spills his hot, viscous cum deep into your starving pussy until it’s leaking out of your tight hole and down his balls. “Atta girl…” He murmurs through pants, kissing your sweaty forehead lovingly.

“I love you,” You repeat gently one last time as you both relish in the softness of your afterglow.

“I love you too,” Chuuya sighs with a ghost of a smile on his face as he admires you underneath him, hand coming down from your hands to wipe away your stray tears, “Promise me you won’t go anywhere, doll? Cause I’ve still got years of loving you left to go.”

#chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya smut #chuuya nakahara smut #bsd x reader #bsd smut #devious dambi smuts

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