#here's your shot. heres what it needs to look like. you have like 4 hours. figure something out. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

memorabxlia · 4 months ago

Text

All I Want for Christmas Is You ━ 홍중

genre: fluff (just a tad), smut summary: after getting stranded in your car during a winter storm with Hongjoong, you find other means to pass the time warnings: est relationship, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap up irl!), car sex (defintely forgot something) pairing: nonidol!hongjoong x fem!reader wc: 1.9k a/n: DAY 4!!! nets: @blossomnet @k-labels @k-films

The wind howled outside, slamming against the windows of your car like a wild animal trying to break in. Snowflakes swirled in chaotic spirals, obscuring the road ahead and coating everything in a thick blanket of white. You tugged your coat tighter around you, but it was no use—the cold had already seeped into your bones. The heater sputtered weakly, barely holding its own against the storm.

“Hongjoong,” you murmured, your teeth chattering as you glanced at him in the driver’s seat. His hands were still gripping the wheel, even though the car hadn’t moved in what felt like hours. “How long do you think we’re going to be stuck here?”

He exhaled sharply, his breath visible in the frigid air. “I don’t know. The tow truck said they’d come as soon as they could, but…” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely at the windshield. “This isn’t exactly ideal weather for rescuing stranded idiots.”

You snorted despite yourself. “Speak for yourself. You’re the one who thought driving through this was a good idea.”

Hongjoong shot you a look, his dark brows knitting together in mock offense. “Oh, so now it’s my fault? Remind me again who begged to stop for ‘just one more coffee’ before we left?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the grin tugging at his lips stopped you. Even in the middle of a snowstorm, half-frozen and completely stranded, he had a way of making you forget everything else. Your fiancé’s sharp features were softened by the dim glow of the dashboard lights, his black hair tousled from running his fingers through it in frustration. His leather jacket clung to his shoulders, and you couldn’t help but notice how the faint sheen of sweat on his skin caught the light.

You bit your lip, suddenly feeling warmer than you had a moment ago. “Okay, fine. Maybe I’m partially to blame.”

“Partially?” Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, leaning closer. His voice dropped, low and teasing. “Try fully.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was racing now. The space between you seemed to shrink with every second, the tension thickening like the snow piling up outside. You reached out, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “You’re such a brat, you know that?”

His smirk widened, and before you could react, he caught your hand in his. His touch was warm, sending a jolt of electricity through you. “And yet, here you are. Stuck with me.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The world outside faded away, leaving only the sound of your breathing and the faint thrum of the engine. Hongjoong’s gaze flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes, and you felt a familiar heat stir deep within you. It wasn’t just the cold making you shiver anymore.

“You’re staring,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the storm.

“So are you,” he countered, his thumb tracing slow circles on your palm. His touch was maddening, deliberate and unhurried, as if he knew exactly what he was doing to you. “What are you thinking about?”

You swallowed hard, your mind spinning. “That maybe… we should find a way to pass the time.”

“Oh?” His eyes darkened, and his grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly. “And what did you have in mind?”

You didn’t answer—not with words, anyway. Instead, you leaned in, closing the gap between you until your lips were just a breath apart. Hongjoong’s sharp intake of air was the only warning you got before he closed the distance, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss.

It was all fire and need, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that made your head spin. One of his hands slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as the other found your hip, his fingers digging into your flesh through the fabric of your jeans. You gasped into his mouth, your hands flying to his chest to steady yourself, but that only seemed to spur him on. He broke the kiss just long enough to murmur, “Tell me what you want,” before reclaiming your lips with a fierceness that left you breathless.

Your mind raced, torn between the rational part of you that knew this was madness and the part that didn’t care. The storm raged on outside, but inside the car, the only thing that mattered was the way Hongjoong’s body pressed against yours, the way his touch set your skin ablaze.

“God, Hongjoong,” you breathed, your fingers tangling in his hair. “I want—”

Before you could finish, he cut you off with another kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that made your toes curl. His hands moved lower, slipping under the hem of your sweater to explore the bare skin underneath. The contrast between his warm palms and the icy air sent a shiver down your spine, and you arched into his touch with a soft moan.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he growled against your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse point. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, not when his lips were trailing kisses along your jaw, not when his hands were roaming your body with a possessiveness that made your knees weak. Instead, you let your actions speak for you, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt until your hands met the hard planes of his chest. His skin was hot beneath your fingertips, and you couldn’t resist leaning in to press a kiss to the hollow of his throat.

Hongjoong groaned, his hands tightening on your hips as he pulled you into his lap. The steering wheel dug into your back, but you barely noticed—not when his erection was pressing insistently against your thigh, not when his lips were skimming over the curve of your ear.

“You feel that?” he rasped, his voice rough with desire. “That’s all for you.”

You whimpered, grinding against him instinctively. The friction was delicious, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you. “Joong—”

“Tell me,” he demanded, his fingers hooking under the waistband of your pants. “Tell me you want this.”

You nodded frantically, your nails digging into his shoulders as he pulled your jeans down just far enough to expose your wetness to the cold air. “Yes, yes, please—”

“Good girl,” he purred, his fingers slipping between your folds to tease you with maddening precision. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense, as he added, “Now let me hear you.”

You arched into him, desperate for more friction, more heat, more of him. The car windows were fogged up from your ragged breaths, the world outside forgotten as the storm raged on. All that mattered was the way his fingers curled inside you, stroking just right to make your hips jerk uncontrollably.

“Joong—” you gasped, clutching at his arm. “I can’t—please—”

“Can’t what?” he taunted, his voice low and rough. He added a second finger, stretching you deliciously, and you moaned at the sensation. His free hand gripped your thigh, holding you open for him as he worked you relentlessly. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

You whined, your head falling back against the seat as pleasure coiled tight in your core. “I need you,” you begged, your voice trembling. “I need you inside me, Joong—please.”

Hongjoong’s eyes darkened, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmured, “Since you asked so nicely…” He withdrew his fingers, leaving you whimpering at the loss, and shifted in the cramped space of the car. His hands fumbled with his belt buckle, the sound of it unbuckling sending a jolt of anticipation through you.

When he finally pushed down his jeans, freeing his hard length, you couldn’t help but reach for him. Your fingers wrapped around him, stroking lightly, and he hissed through clenched teeth. “Fuck, you’re impatient,” he muttered, though the way his hips bucked into your touch betrayed his own desperation.

You smirked up at him, even as your pulse raced. “You like it.”

He growled, catching your wrist and pinning it above your head. “Careful,” he warned, his tone playful but edged with hunger. “Not sure if you’ve noticed, but we’re not exactly spoiled for space here. Thought you might appreciate me taking my time.”

You bit your lip, squirming under his hold. “Take your time later,” you urged, dragging your free hand down his chest. “Right now, I just need you.”

Hongjoong groaned, releasing your wrist to brace himself against the car seat. He positioned himself between your legs, his tip brushing against your slick entrance, and you shivered at the contact. “You’re sure?” he asked, his voice softer now, laced with concern despite the tension thick in the air.

You nodded, lifting your hips to meet his. “Yes,” you breathed. “I’m sure.”

With a low growl, he sank into you in one slow, torturous thrust. The stretch was exquisite, filling you completely, and you gasped out his name as he stilled, giving you a moment to adjust. His forehead rested against yours, his breathing ragged as he fought to keep control.

“You feel so fucking good,” he rasped, his hands gripping your hips tightly. “Always so perfect for me.”

You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders as he began to move. The pace was steady at first, each stroke deep and deliberate, but it didn’t take long for his restraint to fracture. His thrusts grew faster, harder, the sound of skin against skin mixing with the howling wind outside. The car rocked slightly with the force of them, but neither of you cared.

Every nerve in your body was alight, every touch, every kiss, every word from his lips driving you closer to the edge. His mouth found yours again, kissing you hungrily as he fucked you with relentless intensity. You could feel the coil inside you tightening, winding tighter and tighter until—

“Joong, I’m close,” you panted, breaking the kiss to bury your face in his shoulder. “Please—don’t stop—”

He chuckled darkly, slowing his pace just enough to drive you mad. “Beg for it,” he demanded, his voice rough with desire. “Tell me how much you want to come.”

You let out a frustrated whine, your hips jerking up to chase his. “Please, Joong, I need it—want to come for you—need you to make me—”

“Good girl,” he praised, his hand slipping between your bodies to circle your clit. His touch was electric, and combined with the way he filled you, it was too much. Pleasure crashed over you in waves, your body shaking as you cried out his name.

Hongjoong swore under his breath, his own release hitting him hard. He buried himself deep inside you, his movements growing erratic as he followed you over the edge. For a moment, everything was quiet except for the sound of your mingled breaths and the faint creak of the car settling.

He collapsed against you, his weight pressing you into the seat, but you didn’t mind. His lips brushed against your neck, trailing lazy kisses as he murmured, “Told you we’d find a way to pass the time.”

You laughed softly, running your fingers through his hair. “You were right,” you admitted, though your smile faded as you glanced out the fogged-up window. The storm showed no signs of letting up, and the thought of someone finding you both like this sent a rush of embarrassment through you. “What if—?”

“Don’t worry,” he interrupted, his tone reassuring. “We’ll hear them coming.” He kissed you again, slow and sweet, before adding with a mischievous grin, “Besides, I’m not done with you yet.”

Your breath caught at the promise in his words, and before you could respond, his hands were already moving again, exploring, teasing. “Joong—”

“Shh,” he whispered, his lips tracing the curve of your ear. “Let me take care of you.”

❥﹒ ateez taglist: @casemoa143 @minkilicious @lice @amarecerasus

375 notes · View notes

pretentious-blonde · 3 months ago

Text

stay for dinner?

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: a stupid conversation, past insecurities, and a boy who thinks he isn’t enough—until you show him he always was

warnings: steve self-sabotaging, crying

a/n: part 4, can be read as a standalone too. PLS give me ideas for these two if you liked them!! they currently have my heart <3 (may or may not write nsfw, if i get an idea for that, so be on the lookout!)

series masterlist

Steve set a freshly rewound tape on the countertop. The sign on the wall stating: Be kind: Rewind, clearly had not been making an impact on the general public. And if that wasn’t enough, he was desperately trying not to roll his eyes as a certain curly-haired boy to his left, perched on the desk as if it was a lounge chair.

Dustin had been pleading with him for the past ten minutes—some elaborate scheme involving a comic book store in the next town over. Steve had already told him “no” at least four times, but the word didn’t seem to register in the boy's vocabulary. He became aware he was fighting a losing battle as the kid refused to budge.

“Please?” Dustin implored again, swinging his legs idly as he watched Steve rewind the day’s returns.

“For the last time,” Steve muttered, eyeing a slightly worn Back to the Future case with mild dismay, “I already told you no.”

He was trying to figure out how he could make his declaration any clearer.

Dustin huffed, crossing his arms. “I can’t drive yet, remember?”

“Yeah, well, that’s not my problem,” Steve shot back, sliding the VHS into its designated slot behind the counter.

“I’m telling you, it’s only like a fifteen-minute drive. Tops.” Dustin glanced at the clock pointedly. “Plus, your shift ends soon. What else are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know—go pick up my girlfriend?” Steve flashed him a wry smile, letting the term roll off his tongue with pride.

Girlfriend.

It still felt new, but it also felt good. He thought it would take longer for him to assimilate to his new title as boyfriend, but he fell into the role as easily as breathing. Something that felt completely natural.

No longer was he the designated driver for his friends after work, he did the stuff that boyfriends do. And that included spending most evenings with you.

There were a few times you insisted he needed to spend time with his own friends, but he still wished you were there. Hopefully, you would be comfortable enough to tag along with them in the future. God knows he was more than willing to show you off.

“Oh yeah?” Dustin sat up, his posture straightening. “So it’s official now?”

A tiny grin tugged at Steve’s mouth. “Yeah.” He closed a drawer of tapes and rested his hands on the counter, staring at Dustin with a slightly smug expression. “It’s official.”

“Good for you, man. Seriously. That’s nice.” He said, seemingly out of obligation rather than pure interest. Then, snapping back to the real topic at hand. “But I’m not leaving until you agree to take me to the comic book store.”

“That’s like—” Steve glanced at the clock above the television sets for rent, “an hour from now.”

“Yep,” Dustin said, unabashed. “I’m persistent.”

“Look,” Steve sighed, massaging the tension in his temples. “She’s coming here once my shift is over. I can’t just bail on her to drive you around.”

Dustin’s face lit up. “Then bring her along! Maybe she’ll like it!”

“Yeah, no. That’s not happening.” A short laugh escaped Steve before he could stop it. “I’m not dragging her to a comic book shop just so you can blow your allowance on some special-edition nonsense.”

“Hey, it’s not nonsense!” Dustin protested. “They have the rare issues I can’t find anywhere else. And who knows, maybe your girlfriend’s into comics!”

“Why do I even argue with you?” Steve groaned to himself, returning to the stack of tapes in front of him—anything to have an excuse not to keep looking at Dustin’s pleading face. “You just keep going and going. It’s exhausting.”

“That’s because I know you’ll give in eventually,” Dustin quipped, flashing that self-assured grin that made Steve want to either adopt him or toss him out a window—possibly both.

“Yeah, well, not this time,” Steve insisted, though the conviction in his voice wavered slightly.

Dustin was right about one thing: Steve did have a tendency to cave when it came to the kids, especially the ones he’d practically helped raise. But, as he filed away the last of the returns, a pang of guilt rippled through him.

He didn’t want to let you down. Truly, he didn’t. You were swinging by just to see him. It was a Sunday after all, so he was finishing early, and he wanted to spend as long as he could with you.

Unfortunately, he did feel a little regretful about letting his friend down. Perhaps he was spending a bit too much time with you—which wasn’t a crime—but he was struggling to recall the last time he spent alone time with Dustin.

The kid must have caught the trace of hesitation in Steve’s expression. Finally, a crack in his armour.

“Look,” he said, in a rare moment of sincerity, “just ask her, okay? If she says no, I’ll drop it.”

Steve mulled that over, pressing his lips into a thin line. “Fine,” he relented, not hiding his exasperation. “I’ll let you pitch your case when she gets here.”

Dustin pumped a fist triumphantly. “Yes! You won’t regret this.”

“I regret a lot of things, Henderson,” Steve muttered under his breath. “Now let me finish up so I can actually clock out at a decent time.”

“Deal,” Dustin agreed, but he made no move to vacate the desk. Instead, he just kept swinging his legs, watching with interest as Steve tried to busy himself with the returns.

The kid was relentless—he had to give him that.

He was half-leaning against the counter when you walked in, the lazy Sunday light spilling through the windows, making him look almost golden.

You instantly spotted him, features slightly fatigued but nonetheless tender. The boy who inserted himself into your daunting new life, making you feel less alone. The boy who made you feel safe whenever your eyes met—warm, reassuring, sometimes bashful if you caught him at the right moment.

Your gaze drifted to the curly-haired kid perched on the front desk, chattering away while Steve fiddled with cases. You hadn’t met him yet, but had an inkling as to who it might be from you and Steve’s many conversations.

The second Steve caught sight of you, the slight crease in his brow eased, and a genuine smile lit up his face. He straightened, set the tapes aside, and practically melted as you approached, arms opening to fit you just right.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmured, pulling you into a warm hug. His vest brushed against your cheek. You tilted your head just enough to feel the soft press of his lips against your temple.

Even though the two of you were official, your cheeks still reddened at his action. It often seemed he didn’t mind that you had company, or maybe he just didn’t care. Or perhaps he didn’t realise how brazen he could be.

Either way, you weren’t going to stop his displays of affection. You enjoyed knowing he was proud to call you his.

“Hi,” you said quietly, relishing the way he lingered in that hug, not quite wanting to let go just yet.

“This is Dustin,” he turned, gesturing to the boy with the curly hair. “I told you about him, remember?”

“Right!” You offered the boy a friendly smile, glad your assumption was correct. “So great to finally meet you. Steve mentions you all the time.”

Dustin stared for a moment, then blinked like he was recalibrating.

“Um… hey,” he said, his tone surprisingly timid. “Yeah, you too.”

That made Steve grin even wider.

Dustin, rendered speechless? He never thought he would see the day. He looked at his awestruck expression and glanced over at you smugly.

Yeah, he did that. He isn’t quite sure how, but he did that.

“You ready to go?” you asked, glancing up at him over your shoulder. At your question, Steve let out a slow breath, raking a hand through his hair nervously.

“Apparently, someone wants me to be their personal chauffeur,” he said, with a pointed look at Dustin. “Says I need to drive him to a comic book store.”

“A comic book store? But there’s one like four streets over, right?”

Steve spread his hands in exasperation. “Exactly what I said!”

Dustin threw his hands up. “That one sucks! Their selection is terrible and they get new shipments like once a month!”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. He sounds like a tiny professor with the fervour in his voice. Steve shot you a look of abject guilt, like he was already imagining leaving you hanging.

“Would I be the world’s biggest jerk if I did this?” he asked, the uncertainty evident in his tone. He hated to be the one to make decisions like this, picking sides and disappointing someone in the process.

“No, honestly, it’s fine.” Gently, you shook your head. “It’s still early, right?” You gestured to the clock on the wall—three o’clock, give or take a few minutes. “I’ve been all over the place today, honestly an hour or so just to get everything in order would be amazing.”

“I mean…” Dustin started, looking between you and Steve, not sure if you're just being nice or actually had something to do. “You’re welcome to come with?”

But you waved him off with an apologetic smile. “Thanks, but seriously, I’ve got a lot to catch up on at home. You two enjoy, please, don’t let me stop you.”

Dustin beamed at you, grateful for the positive turn of events. Steve, on the other hand, still looked torn, torn between not wanting to inconvenience you and also not wanting to bail on his friend.

“Alright,” he relented, exhaling in relief when he realised you were genuinely okay with this. “I’ll… yeah, I’ll drop him off, and we’ll probably poke around for a bit if they really have something he’s looking for.”

“No worries.” You leaned forward, reaching for his hand, not missing the smitten glaze in his eyes as you squeezed it. “Swing by mine after, okay? I should be done by then.”

Steve’s posture relaxed, gratitude colouring his eyes. “Okay,” he murmured, “deal.”

He leaned in, cupping your jaw and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips this time—a sweet, unhurried gesture that made your cheeks flush—again.

There was a shuffle behind him, and you could sense Dustin being extremely polite (or maybe just temporarily stunned) enough not to comment. Steve pulled back smiling, as you made your way to the exit.

“See you, Steve,” you said, backing toward the door. You cast a quick wave at Dustin. “Later, Dustin.”

“Uh, bye,” Dustin managed, raising a hand in farewell.

And with that, you slipped outside, leaving Steve to shoulder his shift into driver mode—though, judging by the fond look on his face, he wasn’t half as annoyed about it anymore.

He just got to rub it in Dustin's face, that yes, he had a sweet girlfriend. And yes, she really was that nice. All the time. Probably when she shouldn't be.

As far as he was concerned, if you needed it, he could haul Henderson around for an afternoon to give you some free time.

“You,” Dustin said, pointing at Steve once you were gone, “are one lucky dude.”

Steve snorted, but it came out more like an affectionate laugh.

“Yeah,” he murmured, casting a glance at the door you’d just left through. “Yeah, I am.”

Steve drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he cruised down the main road, Dustin rambling away in the passenger seat. The kid’s feet bounced on the floor mat, all brimming energy. Steve had to admit—it was nice to see him so pumped. But that didn’t stop him from cringing slightly at every new question that spilled out of his mouth.

Right now he was the subject of a very intense interrogation, and while he had mentioned he was seeing someone new, clearly that was not enough information for the teenager sitting next to him.

“So,” Dustin said, leaning forward, “this girl—your girlfriend—what does she do?”

“She’s writing for the paper in town.” He said, feeling a surge of pride in his chest as he got to gush about your achievements. “Gonna be a big-shot journalist someday. That’s what she wants, anyway.”

Dustin let out a short laugh, amused in a way that made Steve raise an eyebrow. “Why’re you laughing?”

“I’m not, I’m just—” Dustin shook his head, lips quirked in a grin. “You and your… type.”

Steve gave him a side-eye glance. “My type?”

“Oh, c’mon,” Dustin scoffed, half-exasperated, half-teasing. “Smart writer girls. You know—the go-getter, brainy ones.”

Steve’s initial instinct was to shrug it off, but something nagged at him.

He felt a twinge of déjà vu that he didn’t love.

“Yeah, okay, I can sorta see what you mean.” He spoke cooly, but the heat rising in his chest was anything but.

“Admit it,” Dustin pressed on. “You like girls that are just a little… out of your league.”

Steve bristled, tightening his grip on the wheel. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, think about it." Dustin shrugged, apparently not noticing the defensiveness in Steve’s tone. "The girls you’ve dated. They’re super smart, super driven. It’s cool how you have managed to pull this off twice.”

Steve forced a laugh, though it felt hollow on his tongue.

Pull this off? That the hell was that supposed to mean?

“Right, yeah, thanks for the vote of confidence, Henderson.” He cleared his throat, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to shake off the uneasy feeling creeping into his stomach. “Well, if they like me, then I must be doing something right.”

“For sure. No denying you’ve come a long way.” Dustin nodded, tapping the dashboard with one finger. “Remember how you used to act at Scoops? Man, you were just—”

Steve groaned, cutting him off as he steered into a small parking lot beside a rundown building with a neon sign advertising Comics & Collectibles. Not wanting to relive failed moments from his youth any longer than he had to.

“Alright, we’re here.” He put the car into park, his posture now rigid. “You’ve got thirty minutes, max. Then we’re outta here.”

“Thirty minutes?” Dustin repeated, eyes bulging. “But—”

“Non-negotiable,” Steve said flatly, giving him a pointed look, suddenly in a sour mood. “I’ve got places to be.”

“Fine.” Dustin grumbled under his breath but ultimately acquiesced, grabbing his backpack and popping open the door. “Thirty. Starting… now.”

He hopped out, the door slamming shut behind him. Steve exhaled, jaw still tense. He watched the kid dart across the lot and pull open the shop’s glass door with excitement.

Alone at last, Steve let his head fall back against the headrest.

Are you really that much out of his league? The question looped around in his mind like a broken record.

He could laugh it off—he had enough practise doing that—but he started remembering how he felt so inadequate around Nancy.

You made him feel needed, cared for, that much was certainly true. But how long would you need him, really?

The notion stirred up old insecurities he’d thought he’d buried.

The rational side of his mind told him he had nothing to worry about. If you liked him—chose him—that was enough, right?

Sighing, he pulled out his watch and glanced at the time. Twenty-nine minutes until he could drop Dustin off and head straight to your place. He suddenly wished the clock would run faster.

Because if there was one thing he couldn’t wait to do, it was lose himself in you. If only for the evening.

Your familiar doorstep was supposed to feel welcoming, as it had so many times before, but Steve’s mind was a bundle of half-formed worries as he stood in the familiar space.

He hated to admit when things got to him, but Dustin’s teasing—albeit lighthearted—had, indeed, gotten to him. The doubts clouding his mind like a soft static he couldn’t push away.

The one statement he kept circling back to was the whole "out of his league" idea. I mean, yeah, from the outside looking in, it could be the case. But he had something to offer, right?

If nothing else was true, he at least had a decent enough face, and his personality had come a long way from high school. Hopefully, other people could see that too.

He forced his mind into silence as he took a deep breath, knocking twice in quick succession.

When you opened the door, dressed in soft, comfortable clothes that looked unfairly adorable on you, he felt something in his chest unclench. Even on a lazy Sunday—one where you had every right to be tired from your own job—you still radiated a classic warmth, one that he was selfishly drinking up, grateful to be the one basking in it.

“Hey,” you said, smiling so easily that a bit of the tension in his shoulders melted.

“Hey, angel” he echoed, stepping inside when you ushered him through the threshold. The air hit him first—warm and fragrant, hinting at something savoury on the stove. “Wow, it smells amazing in here.”

Little did he know, you had already taken care of most of your errands that morning. Knowing you’d be spending the afternoon with Steve, you’d gotten up a little earlier than usual to make sure everything was in order. But when you saw the desperate look on Dustin’s face as he pleaded with your boyfriend to take him to the store, an idea sparked. A little surprise for him—one you hoped would land well.

“Figured I’d make dinner.” You gave a pleased little shrug. “We don’t always get Sundays like this, and I know you had to work, so…”

“Wait,” he said, blinking, “you made dinner?”

His eyes softened as he took in your words, letting them settle in his chest. He tried not to feel indebted—but God, he wished he stopped to pick up flowers or something.

“Yup,” you confirmed, leading him toward the kitchen. “Nothing fancy. Just has to reduce on the stove for a while longer, but I wanted it ready for when you came by.”

Steve’s heart twisted in two directions at once. On one hand, it was the sweetest gesture, and certainly one that should have put his mind at ease. On the other, his mind kept whispering to him. He questioned if he was even worth this kind of effort.

The bluntness of the thought shocked him a little, but he couldn’t render it completely false. He felt like he owed you something.

“You didn’t have to go all out for me,” he murmured, smiling at you in an almost apologetic manner.

“I know.” You reached up to brush a stray bit of hair off his forehead. “I wanted to.”

He swallowed, nodding. “Thanks, angel,” he said softly, the pet name rolling off his tongue with more tenderness than he intended. Like he wasn’t supposed to be using it. “Seriously.”

You tugged him gently into the living room, where he sank down onto the couch, exhaling a sigh of relief. The day had felt so long—the slow hours, Dustin’s energy, the drive out of town—but now, in the familiarity of your apartment, it all felt calm. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t quite right.

You curled against him, fitting neatly at his side as he draped an arm around you. The soft haze of a lamp cast a cosy halo over the bookshelf across the room, the very one he’d helped you build not long ago. He couldn’t help but notice the extra row of spines he didn’t remember seeing before.

“Hey,” he teased, nudging your head and gesturing to the neatly lined novels. “I thought you said no more books until you’d read all the ones you owned.”

You lifted your head to follow his gaze, a faint grin tugging at your lips. “I did read them. Which means I’m allowed new ones.”

“All of them? In, what—two weeks?”

He barely finished reading Salinger in senior year, and that took him months to work through.

“About that,” you said, sounding almost sheepish. “They were good, and I got on a roll. You know how it is when a book just sucks you in?”

He didn’t really, but now he felt as though he should.

“That’s…impressive.” He replied safely, not wanting to bring down your mood with his lack of literature knowledge. Especially when you seemed so pleased that he was there in the first place.

You used that moment to shift closer, your cheek pressing against the broad line of his shoulder. He felt the warmth you emitted, and if he allowed himself, he could imagine that maybe you enjoyed his company as much as he loved yours.

“So,” you said, glancing up at him with genuine curiosity. “How was work? How’s Dustin?”

Steve hesitated, momentarily tripping over the idea that you’d be interested in the mundane details of his shift or the kid’s comic book haul. But the way you were watching him—like you actually cared—made him sigh and lean into it.

“Pretty standard, y’know?” He ran his free hand over his jaw, trying to sound casual. “Dustin got what he wanted, as usual. He’s like a force of nature—hard to say no.”

You smiled, amused. “That kid seems unstoppable.”

“Definitely unstoppable,” Steve agreed, a soft chuckle escaping him.

Eventually, after his debrief of today's events, you got up to check on dinner, stirring the pot and releasing another wave of that delicious smell. He watched, heart clenching again with gratitude and guilt.

He could see how careful you were, minding the heat, adding a pinch of seasoning, taking the time to make something special just for him.

He wondered if he could do anything to help, something to be useful again.

It felt so domestic that for a second he let himself imagine a future where this could be the norm—where the two of you shared little traditions, teased each other about groceries, woke up side by side. Equally happy with what the other had to offer.

Soon enough, you both ended up at the small kitchen table, plates filled with a hearty meal that made him groan with delight after each bite. You just laughed, pleased by his genuine appreciation.

“Good?” you asked, grinning as he nodded enthusiastically, mouth still full.

It was good. Really good. Made only better by the fact that you made it for him.

Why didn’t he think of something like this?

At this rate, he was going to have to pull a screw loose from your bookshelf just so he could prove himself again.

When you’d eaten more than enough to satiate your hunger, you cleaned up together, bumping hips in the process, trading playful glances as you washed and dried the dishes.

He followed you back to the couch, happy to follow where you dragged him hand first. You spent the rest of the evening chatting aimlessly about books, random gossip from your workplace, and his occasional run-ins with Robin or the kids.

There was nothing particularly grand or momentous about it; just a gentle closeness. Though he was worried it was too mundane, if his crappy jokes were enough to keep this thing going.

All too soon, the clock on the wall struck a sober reminder: Monday morning was lurking around the corner, and you gave him an apologetic look.

“I hate to kick you out,” you said softly, “but I’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” He pretended to huff in annoyance, though the corners of his mouth twitched in a small smile. You were the one with a real job, after all. “Responsibilities and all that.”

At the door, you hugged him, chin hooking over his shoulder. He could smell the faint scent of laundry detergent on your jumper, mixed with the lingering aroma of dinner. It felt safe in your arms—safer than he’d felt all day.

“Thank you,” he whispered against your hair, voice thick with more emotion than he intended to reveal.

“For what?” you asked, pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes, sensing his unease.

“For dinner,” he shrugged, trying to hide the lump in his throat. “For letting me hang out… for, y’know, being you.”

A smile lit up your features, and you rose on your toes to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

“You don’t have to thank me for that.”

It should’ve been reassuring, but that old worry nipped at him once again.

You gave him a playful nudge out into the hallway. “Drive safe, okay?”

“Always,” he promised, mustering a half-smirk. But the moment the door closed behind him, the warmth drained away like someone had shut off a heat lamp.

By the time he slid into his car and started the engine, he was already thinking about Dustin’s words, "girls out of his league."

Mentally, he scolded himself. But the thought stuck like glue, stubborn and unmoving. He glanced at your apartment window—light still glowing from inside—and his chest ached with longing.

You liked him. You even cooked for him, fully aware that he would have been just as content with a crappy pizza or diner fries.

So why couldn’t he let himself just be happy?

With a quiet sigh, he pulled away from the curb, leaving the comfort of your home behind. And as he drove through the sleepy streets of Hawkins, he couldn’t quite loose the hollow sense that he was missing something.

Good things always had a way of escaping him, and he couldn’t imagine how this would be any different.

You’ve never felt unsettled since moving to Hawkins—at least, not until now.

Work at the Hawkins Post can be demanding, but those pressures were somewhat tangible: deadlines, edits, the joyous feeling of being undermined for basic input. You can handle all that. But suddenly finding your supposedly devoted boyfriend slipping through your fingers for reasons you don’t understand?

That feels far worse than any work stress could ever be.

All week, you’ve told yourself not to overreact. Steve might just be busy or tired or dealing with something personal. You didn’t want to pry, and after coming clean about your own struggles, you assumed he would do the same thing. Take his own advice or whatever.

But the excuses keep piling up, and you can’t ignore the changes in his behaviour. It started with some half-hearted reasons to hang up the phone in the evenings—when he used to plead with you to stay just little longer—usually ending up with one of you falling asleep on the line, listening out for the others breathing to steady before ending the call.

The whole week he didn’t even mention spending the weekend together. Usually that was sacred time, with him arguing with Kieth and Robin to please let him have the evening shifts rather than the morning. He enjoyed waking up lazily next to you, not rushing out the door before he had his fill.

By Saturday, you decide you can’t wait for answers any longer. You head out, crossing the familiar street, eventually pushing open the door to Family Video. Robin’s face pops up from behind the counter, the bell signalling a customer.

“Hey,” Robin calls, stacking tapes. “If you’re looking for Steve, you just missed him. Morning shift—he took off like ten minutes ago.”

“I know.” You attempt a polite smile. You were already aware of his absence, watching his BMW speed away from the store, feeling even worse when it turned the opposite direction to your place. “I actually, uh… came to see you.”

“Me? Really?” She seemed half-surprised, half-intrigued.

“Yeah. I… I think I need your help.” The words spill out in a rush. You don’t realise how anxious you sound until Robin sets aside her tapes, giving you her full attention. “I’m sorry for springing this on you, but I’m kind of at a loss. You’re Steve’s best friend, and—” You pause, cheeks warming. “I don’t really know many people here yet.”

Robin’s expression softens. “Hey, hey, no need to apologise. What’s going on?” Her eyes narrow, the smallest spark of protectiveness lighting behind them. “Did Steve do something stupid? Because I can give him a good slap if—”

You lift your hands, shaking your head quickly. “No, no, it’s not that. Or… not exactly?” Your voice wavers. “I just—wanted to know if he still… likes me? Because he’s been distant, and I can’t think what I did wrong.”

Robin’s mouth opens on a short laugh, but then she sees you’re serious.

“Oh. Wait—you’re for real?”

Heat pools in your cheeks. It sounds so ridiculous when you say it out loud, but you press on. You were here already, so if she knew something, you would rather just get this over with.

“He’s barely returned my calls, and this weekend he hasn’t even tried making plans. Last week I cooked for him—nothing fancy, just dinner—and he acted so weird about it, almost like he wanted to be anywhere else. I keep replaying it in my head, wondering if I came on too strong or something.”

She watches you carefully, reading the tension in your posture, the way your hands keep twisting into your sleeves.

“Okay, okay,” she says, gentler now. “I promise I’m listening. You think you scared him off?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?” You look at the floor, biting your lip. “This past week, he’s barely tried to see me at all. Usually he’s so—well, so Steve, you know? But now it’s like he’s ignoring me, except he’s still in town.”

Robin sets aside the tapes completely, leaning her elbows on the counter. Yes, she knew how Steve had been acting, practically besotted with you. So this fast turnaround was odd, but then again, Steve had his moments. Though they usually came with more of an explanation than this.

“That’s… not good,” she concedes. “But trust me, from an outside perspective, he’s been head over heels for you since day one. My guess is he’s the problem, not you. It might be in that thick skull of his, you know? It doesn’t help that it’s covered with all that hair.”

“I feel so stupid, but I didn’t know who else to ask." You let out a shaky laugh. "I’m just… worried I messed up somehow. I know it’s weird—”

“Hey, you’re not weird.” Robin shakes her head, reaching over to squeeze your arm gently. “You’re worried—totally normal. Let me talk to him, okay? I’ll figure out what’s going on.”

Your eyes widen. “No, you don’t have to do that. I don’t want to cause drama—”

She interrupts you with a wave of her hand. “Drama is my middle name, apparently, thanks to Steve. Let me handle him. I’ll be subtle. Trust me.”

A mischievous grin tugs at her lips. You have a feeling she’s never been subtle in her life, but you’re too tired to argue.

“Alright.” You sigh. “Only if you’re sure. And please, maybe don’t mention I… came here? I don’t want him thinking I’m this desperate, clingy girlfriend who needs constant reassurance.”

“Desperate? Clingy? He’s been the clingiest guy I’ve ever seen—until now.” She snorts. “Don’t beat yourself up. I know he adores you. He’s probably just… freaking out about something. He’s good at that. Self-sabotage is his specialty.”

The tight knot in your chest loosens just a bit, but her words set you on edge a little. You instantly think that you are the one freaking him out, coming on too strong. But you decide that silence is the best option here.

“Thank you,” you say, voice still unsteady. “I really appreciate it.”

“Of course.” She offers a supportive smile. “Hey, you’re welcome to drop by anytime, you know? If you wanted someone else to talk to or something, but no pressure.”

“I might take you up on that.” You tell her, relieved.

“Good. Now go home, put on some music, try to relax. I’ll handle the Harrington situation.”

You’re not entirely sure what that entails, but her confidence is reassuring. After one more grateful nod, you thank her again and head back outside. Not quite feeling relief, but certainly not feeling any worse.

Steve juggled a soda cup in one hand and a stack of tapes in the other. He had the evening off yesterday and had spent it binge watching crappy rom coms while trying to ignore the nagging feeling in his chest. Trying to find some solace in those mundane guys managing to snag the unattainable, popular girl. They never showed what happened after the whole kiss and get-together thing. Life imitates art in a way.

He also had the day off today—normally something that would have him beaming from the inside out—but he made the decision to spend it alone. A decision that had been laced with anxiety, which now leaked into a mild depression. His nerves overshadowed any relief he felt about his schedule.

He unlocked the door to Family Video, hoping he’d be able to stash the unchecked tapes and slip out before Robin noticed the cloud hanging over him. No such luck.

She was early for her shift, waiting at the counter, arms crossed, jaw set. Her eyes locked on him the second he stepped inside.

“You.” She spoke the word like it was a challenge. “Explain yourself.”

He paused, heartbeat picking up, not expecting this level of hostility.

“What did I do now?” he asked cautiously, setting the tapes down. “I planned to bring them back before opening, I swear, I just—”

Robin cut him off with a sharp wave of her hand. “Not that. Your girlfriend came in here yesterday, totally distressed. She thought she did something wrong. Actually asked if she might’ve scared you off by, and I quote, ‘making you dinner.’”

Steve’s stomach flipped. A wave of guilt slammed into him, sharper than he’d expected. He swallowed, remembering how you’d stood in your apartment, smiling so warmly, how you’d carefully stirred a pot of sauce just for him.

God, he’d been such an idiot.

He thought that you would have been too busy with work this week to notice his silence. He thought he hid his emotions better than that.

“She thinks that?” he managed to say, voice tight. “She really asked that?”

“Of course she did.” Robin slammed her palm on the counter. “Now, are you freaking out, or what? Because if you are, just say so.”

“Me? Freaking out?” A shaky laugh left Steve’s lips. Freaking out was putting it mildly. “I’m fine, Rob.”

She shook her head. “You’re clearly not,” she persisted. “Last week you’re gushing about your new relationship, and now it’s radio silence. What’s up with you? Spill it.”

He knew there was no getting out of this, well, unless he literally turned and ran out the store. But that seemed a bit extreme and would likely only delay this conversation.

He dreaded this part. The whole talking about his feelings and his subsequent inadequacies.

“It’s going to sound dumb,” he muttered, gaze dropping to the floor.

“More so than usual?” She teased.

“Robin.”

“Right, no.” She muttered. “Wrong time. Sorry.”

She sighed and walked round the counter so she was standing directly in front of him. Both so she could gauge his reaction and bring him some semblance of comfort. “Talk to me.”

“It’s like…” He trails off, looking away from her pitiful expression.”She’s going places, you know? Really going places. I’m just… here.”

Her expression softened a fraction. “What brought this on?”

Steve felt the memories swirl—Dustin’s pointed remarks, the creeping sense of déjà vu reminding him how Nancy once left him behind.

“Dustin,” he admitted after a beat. “He said some stuff… about me only dating smart girls who are outta my league. It got stuck in my head, okay?”

“Henderson?” Robin’s eyebrows shot up. “Steve, he’s a kid. A kid with zero concept of normal relationship drama. You’re really letting that get to you?”

He tried to muster a shrug, but his chest felt tight. No matter what angle he looked at it, it was a statement that he couldn’t disprove.

“He’s not entirely wrong,” he mumbled. “I don’t have a big plan or anything. My job’s okay, but it’s not exactly a career, and I’m certainly not saving big money—there’s no future path. Meanwhile, she’s got all these ideas, ambitions, everything.”

Robin stared, seeming torn between wanting to hug him and wanting to smack him upside the head.

“God, you’re self-sabotaging again.”

“I am not—”

“Yes, you are!” she insisted, stepping forward. “Textbook Harrington behaviour: good thing’s happening, so you panic and decide you don’t deserve it. I just watched her walk out of here looking like someone kicked her puppy. She literally thinks she scared you off.”

Steve’s gut twisted further. He pictured you, eyes glassy with worry, probably replaying every moment you’d spent together. After your heart to heart the other day it became clear that you tended to overthink, he didn’t realise you could be doing that because of him.

The notion that you blamed yourself made his chest ache.

“I… I didn’t mean to make her feel that way,” he said, voice hollow.

“So don’t.” Robin pressed her lips together. “Fix it. You’re good at that sort of thing.”

He exhaled shakily, setting the soda on the counter before he spilled it with his shaky hands. “How?”

“You have today off, right?” Robin asked, folding her arms.

“Yeah,” Steve said.

“She does too,” Robin replied pointedly. “And it’s not even 10 a.m. yet. So do something nice for her. Show her you’re not running away. Because, believe me, if you keep pulling back, it’s gonna look like you are.”

Steve nodded, trying to will away the tightening in his throat. “What do I even plan? Something big? Flowers? Fancy dinner? She’s already done the cooking thing—”

Robin let out a dramatic sigh, rolling her eyes. “You’re not exactly wooing the queen of England. Just do something that says ‘I appreciate you and want to be around you.’ Could be a picnic, a drive, a movie—whatever. Don’t overthink it.”

He let out a short, humourless laugh. “But that’s kinda my specialty these days.”

“Clearly,” Robin muttered, though her tone was gentler now. “Look, the point is, she’s into you. She made that super obvious. The only person doubting it is you. So cut it out.”

Steve paused, letting her words settle. A small seed of hope unfurled in his chest, reminding him why he’d fallen for you in the first place.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, gaze locked on the floor. Then he lifted his head, determined. “I’ll, uh… yeah, I’ll figure something out.”

Robin’s tense posture eased, and she gave a curt nod. “Good. Because if you break that girl’s heart over your own insecurities, I’ll murder you. In a loving, best-friend sort of way.”

Steve managed a small grin. “In a loving way, sure.”

“Get out of here before Keith shows up.” She smirked, waving him off. “And don’t forget to call her, for God’s sake.”

Snatching up his soda again, Steve headed for the door, heart still pounding but a faint sense of relief settling in.

From the moment Steve picked up the phone at ten that morning—voice shaky with nerves—he knew he was taking a gamble.

He could feel the cautious edge in your tone, the coolness that suggested you were bracing yourself. Still, he invited you over to his place for that evening, willing the dread in his stomach to subside. He told himself it would be okay, that he’d find the right words.

Robin had told him to talk, so talk he would.

Meanwhile, you spent your Sunday feeling a dread so heavy it threatened to pin you to the floor.

Why else would Steve have been so distant all week? The only logical conclusion was that he’d decided this wasn’t working. After all, you’d had that conversation with Robin—maybe she’d reported back to him, told him something that sealed the deal.

It made sense in a heartbreakingly logical way.

By the time five o’clock rolled around, you felt like you’d gone through every stage of grief. You dragged yourself to your car and made the drive toward the Harrington residence, a place that had once felt so exciting in its promise.

Now it loomed large in your mind as the site of an upcoming breakup. When you arrived, you saw plenty of parking space—his parents, you recalled, were almost never home. You turned the keys of the ignition and exited the vehicle.

At least no one will witness what’s about to happen.

You made your way up the steps, breath tight in your chest. Just as you lifted a hand to knock, the door swung open, revealing Steve, hair meticulously styled, smelling faintly of aftershave. The pang in your heart only sharpened.

Did he seriously dress up for this?

“Hi,” he managed, the word catching slightly, like he was just as nervous as you.

“Hi,” you replied curtly.

Steve cleared his throat, looking awkward in a way that tugged at your heart—no matter how resigned you felt. “Uh, I think you should come in.”

“Yeah,” you said softly. “All right.”

Inside, the house felt cavernous, every footstep echoing. He led you to the living room, and you couldn’t help but glance around, remembering how you used to marvel at this place—huge, yes, but also warm with the potential of summer get-togethers, that pool you’d joked about wanting to try. Now, the thought made your stomach twist.

Guess you won’t be swimming here after all.

You both settled on the couch, an awkward space between you. Steve’s fingers twitched at his sides, and he couldn’t quite meet your eye. The hush was almost suffocating, until finally he spoke, voice low and unsteady.

“Look, um… I think we need to talk.”

Your heart thumped. So this is it. You drew a shaky breath, forcing yourself to sound calmer than you felt.

“Okay. Sure.”

He tried not to grimace at the coolness in your tone. You’d never sounded so distant before, and it killed him to know he caused it. Robin’s words about “explaining himself” rang in his ears, so he opened his mouth—only for you to beat him to it.

“Listen, Steve,” you began, voice thick with tension. “I… I get what’s going on here.”

Steve frowned, something twisting in his chest. “Huh? You do?”

“Yeah," you nodded. "I kind of guessed it.”

“Really?” A flicker of confusion passed over his features. “You did?”

Exhaling, you steeled yourself, trying to keep your composure.

“Look, I’m really sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Maybe you didn’t appreciate me crying about my job the other day, or maybe I was too forward cooking dinner for you. I get it. I just… I can’t think of anything else I did wrong.” You forced a hollow laugh. “So I assumed it must be that. Maybe I scared you off.”

Steve’s brows shot up, genuine shock colouring his face.

“What you did wrong?” he echoed. “Wait—what are you talking about?”

You swallowed.

Get it over with.

“Aren’t you… breaking up with me?”

Steve nearly jumped out of his skin. Every worst fear he had about you feeling hurt was now a reality.

“What? No! No, I’m not breaking up with you.” He spoke in quick succession. “Are you crazy? I’m not doing that.”

The wave of relief that swept through you was immediate but fleeting.

“Then what is this?” you asked, voice unsure. “It’s obvious you’re not feeling this anymore. You’ve been ignoring me all week, and I’m not gonna force you to stay if you don’t want to. I just… I figured there’d be a reason.”

He grimaced, running a hand through his hair and messing up that careful style.

“There is a reason,” he admitted. “But trust me, it’s not you.”

“Yeah,” you snorted, a weak attempt at humour that came out more sad than anything. “That’s what everyone always says when they break up with someone.”

Steve let out a frustrated breath. He had never been good at this. You were the one who was good with words, not him.

“No, really. It—fuck, just let me talk.” He paused, gathering himself. The realisation that you thought you caused this somehow made his heart twist painfully. If you only knew how not your fault it really was.

God, what a mess.

He stared at the floor, feeling the weight of all his insecurities.

“Listen,” he started, voice shaky, “I’m not good at this, so just give me a moment.”

You watched him, a pang of sympathy slipping through your self-protective shell. He looked… rattled, more so than you’d ever seen him. Despite your own heartbreak, you nodded, letting him gather his courage.

“Okay,” he said, exhaling slowly. “So, I don’t have the best track record with relationships. Or even friendships. I thought I’d gotten better, but apparently not.” He let out a short laugh, eyes flicking up to meet yours for a second—only to dart away when he saw the concern there.

It was hard to think when you looked at him like that. Like he was something to be pitied.

“What I’m trying to say is… I always seem to get left behind. My first girlfriend left me for someone else. My old friends ditched me as soon as I wasn’t cool anymore. My parents ignored me because I sucked at school.” He swallowed hard, voice thickening with old wounds. “Then I met you, this super smart girl who clearly has the world at her fingertips—you’ve accomplished so much already, more than I ever could. It made me think: how could I hold onto that? How could I keep you interested in my life when I work at a video store and spend my free time with a bunch of teenagers?”

Your heart clenched at the raw vulnerability in his words. For a second, you just stared, feeling tears prick the backs of your eyes at how wrong he was about himself.

Without thinking, you reached out and slid your hand into his, the contact gentle but resolute.

“Steve,” you whispered, voice unsteady but filled with honesty, “how can you think that about yourself?”

His gaze snapped to yours, confusion etched in every line of his face.

You swallowed, trying to steady your breathing, running a thumb along the backs of his knuckles.

“You really don’t see what others see, do you?”

He frowned, looking lost. “I… I’m not following.”

Blinking back tears, you gave a soft, exasperated laugh.

Of course he couldn’t see, your sweet, stupid boy.

“Steve, the first time we met, you literally lugged and built me a whole bookshelf—remember that? You practically passed out hauling the thing up the stairs.”

“Shit,” he muttered, cheeks tinging pink, “you noticed?”

“Yeah, I noticed,” you said, remembering the moment you started falling for him. “And I saw you freaking out over the instructions, but you tried to act like you totally had it under control.”

“Damn…” he hung his head. “Not as smooth as I thought I was.”

Not in the slightest.

A weak smile tugged at your lips.

“Maybe not, but that’s overrated anyway.” Taking a breath, you tightened your grip on his hand. “Steve, you’re a giver—through and through. So you don’t have some swanky office job—who cares? You have something better. You’re selfless, you help people, you care. That’s worth more than anything else, trust me. Whenever you talk about your friends, it’s like a never-ending list of names. You’re rich, Steve. Richer than money.”

He felt tears burning behind his eyes. This was not part of the plan, for him to be openly crying while you praise him repeatedly. That should have been his job tonight. Making you feel better.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he croaked, “you’re gonna make me cry over here.”

“Me too,” you admitted, voice thick with emotion. “We’re both lame.”

“Yeah,” he managed, a watery laugh escaping, “the lamest.”

A heartbeat of silence passed, and then he lifted his eyes to yours with a shy, almost bashful smile, one you hadn’t seen all week. It looked like him, the real Steve you fell for.

“Come here?” he asked, sounding almost boyish in his nervousness.

You couldn’t move fast enough.

He leaned in, and for a moment, everything else fell away—the big house, the rolling ache in your gut. His lips pressed to yours, soft at first, hesitant, then deepening as relief coursed through both of you.

He couldn’t quite stop smiling against your mouth, which made the kiss a bit clumsy, but neither of you cared. The tenderness overshadowed any awkwardness. It felt like coming up for air after being underwater for too long. When he finally pulled back, he let out a shaky exhale, one hand still cupping your cheek.

“I missed doing that,” he murmured, brushing a thumb over your bottom lip.

“Me too,” you breathed.

He swallowed hard, glancing away as guilt resurged. “I’m really sorry I made you feel like you messed up. Like I didn’t—like I wasn’t into you anymore. I am. I really am. Probably too much”

“You should have told me,” you scold him, his brown eyes still glassy. “Aren’t you the one who preached about sharing problems?”

A choked laugh tore from his throat. “Yeah, well… ‘do as I say, not as I do.’”

“You’re impossible,” you teased, though the affection in your voice was unmistakable.

Suddenly, a shrill beeping noise cut through the charged atmosphere, making you both jump.

“What is that?” you asked, pulse still fluttering from the kiss.

Steve’s eyes went wide. “Oh, crap, the timer!” He scrambled off the couch, practically tripping over the coffee table. You followed him with a bemused smile as he disappeared into the adjacent kitchen.

Seconds later, you found him shutting off the buzzer, cheeks flushed.

“I, uh… made dinner,” he confessed, looking adorably sheepish.

Your eyebrows shot up. “You cooked?”

“I mean, I stole your idea,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Rob said I should do something nice, so… here we are. My parents were never around much, so I learned a few things. It’s probably not as good as yours, but I figured it was worth a shot.”

A laugh rose in your chest, part delight, part lingering emotional exhaustion. “Robin told you to do this? I gotta thank her.”

He set a potholder aside, shrugging with an embarrassed smile. “She said I had to make it up to you, so… yeah. I guess I’m returning the favour.”

“You’re full of surprises,” you said softly, stepping closer.

Steve let out a quiet breath, a small, relieved grin curving his lips. As you moved into his space, he reached out, fingers ghosting along your arm before settling at your waist.

“And you, deserve it.” He murmured, voice brimming with affection. “Really sweetheart, you deserve the world.”

Something in his tone made your heart clench. Before you could respond, he leaned in again, capturing your lips in a kiss that was slow, tender—altogether mesmerising.

He cradled your face like you might vanish if he wasn’t careful, as though keeping you close was the only way to convince himself that this was real. You tasted the faint salt of his earlier tears, felt his almost giddy smile against your mouth, and the mix of sadness and relief and overwhelming softness made you cling tighter to him.

It was the kind of moment that made the ache worth it, the kind you knew you’d replay in your head a thousand times.

You finally broke apart, just enough to catch your breath. Foreheads touching, you could see the hint of a shaky grin still hovering on his lips.

“I guess this means we’re not breaking up?” you asked playfully.

“Absolutely not,” he shook his head vigorously. “But hey, you might change your mind after you try my cooking.”

“Hey!” you protested, giving his shoulder a playful shove—no malice behind it at all. “I’m not that cruel. Even if it was terrible, I’d never tell you.”

“And there you go being way too good for me,” he chuckles, but this time it feels more like the joke he was aiming for.

One that he knew deep down was not true.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #stranger things x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things imagine

293 notes · View notes

peachsayshi · 17 days ago

Text

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ playboy geto x inexperienced female reader (final part) ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

wc: 9,000+

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰ previous parts: 1/2/3/4/5

minors / ageless blogs / blank blogs - do not interact.

notes: I can't believe it's been like two years since I started writing this? Here is the final part of the this little mini fic. I don't even want to tell you how long I have had this sitting in my drafts. I've been so back and forth, but finally I just gave in and decided to share what I was originally working on. I got the idea to have them be wedding guests from an anon message, who wanted to see Suguru look at reader in a fancy dress / gown of some sorts. I hope you guys enjoy this final part, and thank you so much for bringing life to this little one shot! xo

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tags: other jjk characters are mentioned, virgin reader; lovesick geto & reader; first time; smut; oral (f receiving); nipple play; overstimulation; penetration; lovemaking

Flowers burst in bright pops of color around Suguru. He slips one hand in his suit pocket, the other reaching for the petal of one of the pink flowers on the bush. He caresses his thumb and index finger against the delicate skin, his mind far off to a different place and different point in time. He can hear the crowd chattering, pick up on the sporadic laughs echoing from the joyous conversations. The live band are playing music, but out here in this beautiful garden, the beats are muted and dulled.

And the quiet is exactly what Suguru needs.

A small bird chirps in one of the trees then flies off in surprise when the click of heels echo.

“There you are,” you call out.

Suguru’s whole body relaxes at the sound of your voice.

He lets go of the flower, and takes a single glance over his shoulder to find you walking towards him.

A vision.

His heart can’t stop stretching with every beat - he hasn’t been able to contain himself since he picked you up to take you to your friend’s wedding. Your gown is the perfect shade to compliment your skin, and the fabric bathes over your body like water. The material accentuates your figure in all the right places, making you look ethereal in the hour of twilight.

Suguru meets you halfway.

You are both tucked away in a secluded part of the garden, but can still see the wedding venue from where you are standing. “I didn’t want to interrupt you dancing with your friends,” he informs, extending both arms to hold your waist as he lures you into his frame.

You are looking up at him with all the affection that the world can possibly hold.

The shorter layers of his long hair is slicked back into a neat bun, and the rest falls down his back in a glorious waterfall of black. His three piece suit is snug on his broad frame, and the color brings out a purple hue in his eye.

“It’s a bit chilly tonight,” you point out, shivering into his biceps as the breeze kisses the parts of your exposed skin.

“It’s lovely. I like the venue…” he replies, “you want to take a walk with me?”

You perch your chin on his chest and smile. “It would be my pleasure.”

Suguru links his hand between your fingers, the bracelet on his wrist grazing over your skin. You love that he never takes it off, no matter what the occasion might be.

The two of you follow the paved walkway, passing by a variety of trees and plants. There are small lamps lighting up the stoned path, guiding you both through as night settles in. “The wedding was beautiful,” you speak in a daze. “I’m so happy for them.”

“Yeah,” Suguru answers with a sigh, “it was…nice…”

Despite how calm he sounds, you instantly catch the hesitation in his reply.

When you received the invite to this wedding, you were ecstatic. You were allowed to bring a date (and, of course, you asked Suguru). What you didn’t expect was for the invite to spark a long and drawn out conversation about marriage in general. In the thick of the discussion, your boyfriend revealed that he doesn’t understand the fuss behind a wedding celebration to begin with.

“Marriage doesn’t equate to a commitment,” he blurted mindlessly with a hint of annoyance. “And weddings just seem like a waste of money to parade a relationship around for no good reason…”

You aren’t sure what caused the outburst but you respected that Suguru had his opinions.

Despite his indifference towards the night, he still attended for your sake.

You couldn’t help but wonder if his commentary stemmed from a place of fear.

Long term commitment is something new for him, and maybe the subject of marriage just spooks him a little.

“Look, I know weddings aren’t ideal for you, but I do appreciate you coming…” you state with gratitude. “I’m really happy for them because they’ve been together for a long time. I guess it’s nice to see them have their moment…” you add on, hoping to unscramble the uneasiness in your lover’s mind.

“So, you’ve said…” Suguru exhales, letting go of your hand to wrap his arm behind your waist. “Best thing to come out of tonight is the dress you’re wearing. Would you be sick of me if I repeat you how utterly gorgeous you look?”

You smile, “Only if I get to tell you that you should wear suits more often…”

“With the way you reacted earlier, I just might…”

Your laughs filters between the trees and the leaves. The path leads you both to a small bridge. You step over the curved arch, and are suddenly surrounded by a pool of water. You can hear the gentle ripples sing from the pond underneath your feet. You release yourself from Suguru’s hold to stand on the edge, placing both hands on the rail to look own. “Look at the fish!” You squeak, noticing the bright orange and white koi swimming. Their scales shimmer under the warmth of the small bulbs lighting up the entire area.

Suguru places both hands just outside of yours to cage you from behind, then drops his chin to meet your shoulder. The quiet settles in once again, the two of you posed like statues studying the sea creatures, and your breaths sync up.

“When I was a kid, I was convinced that koi fish came from oranges because of the color of their skin. I had no idea who planted that idea in my head…but my mom caught me stealing oranges from our kitchen and putting them in a bathtub full of water. She scolded me because she couldn’t figure out who was taking them to begin with-”

You laugh at the tidbit of information that he shares. “That is adorable…”

Suguru smiles, his large hands finding your own as he clasps over them gently.

He strokes his thumb over the back of your hands, his brows furrowing in contemplation.

“My dad egged it on for a while,” he whispers quietly in your ear, “told me that if I keep trying, maybe one of the oranges will hatch…”

Your body freezes that very second.

Suguru never talks about his father.

He mentioned him briefly in passing, like he was this presence that existed but had no real substance. All you know about his dad is that he left the family. Suguru’s mom was dependent on him for everything, and after he was gone, all the responsibility fell on Suguru’s shoulders.

Your heart pounds.

“One morning I went into the bathroom and found a koi fish in the tub. I was fucking ecstatic…” he huffs out a laugh. “Turns out, it was my dad who put the fish in the tub. He was trying to placate my mom about the oranges, but he also didn’t want to see me so disappointed that my theory wouldn’t work out. He figured if it worked, then I would stop my experimenting…”

You press your back deeper into his chest, molding your spine close to his heart.

“How old were you?” you ask softly.

“Five or six…” Suguru answers, but there’s a tenderness in his voice that makes your heart ache.

You flip your hands over and allow Suguru to trace his thumbs inside your palm. He follows each line that slopes up and down like it’s a drawing. His hands are one of your favorite features about him - his fingers long and slender. They looked even better with the silver accessories he had on.You trap his thumbs in your grasp, and mindlessly caress him with reassurance as you wait for him to continue.

“My dad was charming. My mom says I get that from him. And he…loved my mom,” Suguru confesses. “At least, I thought he did. He used to carry their wedding photo in his wallet, and would show it to me sometimes…”

You let go of his thumbs, and lace your fingers between his. You stare at the smooth surface of his silver ring, catching the small reflection of you both from the surface.

“I…” he breathes, “We…didn’t see it coming. The night before he left, he kissed my mother while she was cleaning up dinner, and hugged Mimi and Nana. He ruffled my hair and told me to help my mom before I went to bed. He went upstairs and when I woke up the next day, he was gone.”

A lump forms in your throat but you do your best to remain firm. You hold your strength because you recognize just how much it is taking for Suguru to be this vulnerable with you right now. But in the back of your head you see the face of a broken hearted teenage boy who knows that his world just fell apart.

“A week later he calls my mom to tell her that he isn’t coming back. That this…that we, weren’t the life he saw for himself,” the words spill out of him with a true grit of anger, and in a sinister tone that makes goosebumps form across your back and arms. It’s a hatred so unfamiliar to you. A voice so dark it sounds like it doesn’t even belong to him. “It destroyed her. She wouldn’t get out of bed for months. I did everything I could to protect Mimi and Nana from it…” he sighs.

But who was protecting you?

The thought rushed through your mind, but you bit back those words.

You didn’t have to remind Suguru of something he already knew.

“Suguru…” you breathe out, only then shifting so you can face him. Your hands find his jaw first, and you cradle him protectively wishing you could do everything in your power to take away the hurt.

He circles his hands over your wrists and clears his throat. “I wasn’t telling you this to make you feel bad, but I’ve been acting like a dick about this wedding…”

“You’re entitled to your opinion…” you answer back with a gentle grin, hoping to ease his grievance.

“I just feel like I was sold this lie my whole life, you know? Once in a while, I find myself wondering what the hell he was doing, what the hell he was thinking…and after how I turned out? I didn’t want to be tied down to anything or anyone…” he huffs out a laugh, “I guess the apple doesn’t fall that far from the tree. Sometimes I just want to know what was convincing him to think otherwise…”

You pull his face closer, and peck him softly against his lips.

“I have a hard time trusting happily ever afters…” he continues with a sigh. He drops his hand back down to the rail, and pushes his chest against yours.

One of your hand falls to his shoulder, while the other moves to hold his cheek. “Do you remember how nervous I was on our first date?”

Suguru’s attention flickers to your pretty irises, and he holds the stare as the memory resurfaces.

He nods his head.

You nip at your bottom lip. “That night when we almost kissed, I didn’t realize how easily I had let my guard down around you. Even after Shoko warned me to be careful! When we went on our date, I was just waiting for you to prove everyone right. For you to pull a fast one on me, to catch me off guard again, to love bomb me or try to take advantage of my naivety… ”

Those feelings seem so distant to you now - a blurry detail of an old photograph that you couldn’t quite place. “By the end of our first date, I got to see a side of you that I didn’t even expect,” you carry on with a smile and a tilt of your head, “You’re not the man people make you out to be. And I don’t think it’s fair that you let yourself believe how everyone else perceives you…”

Suguru lets you fiddle with his tie, but his chest tightens at your words. “You are the only one who ever says that to me…”

“You’ve always been honest, Suguru. You don’t play with people’s hearts intentionally, you’re a lot more sincere than you think you are. You’ve never lied to me about where you stood regarding relationships, and you follow through with your actions. From what you’ve told me, you’ve never been dishonest with others either. You said it yourself, you never promised commitment to anyone but they would force it on you. And, I don’t think that’s fair to you either. I don’t think it’s fair for everyone to paint you as the villain. I’m not saying you’re perfect - but no one in this world is. But…you would never abandon the people you care for so recklessly…”

You both gaze longingly into each other’s eyes, and the stillness blankets over you both to guard the serene moment.

Suguru finds your hips, and leans down to kiss the corner of your mouth, remaining careful not to smudge your lipstick. “Sometimes I feel like you’re the only person who really sees me…” he murmurs .

His hands smoothly move back up to your waist, and Suguru brings his mouth to kiss your temple. Your arms stretch out to wrap around his, and he holds you in the sweet embrace. “I’m not really against marriage, just for your information…” he murmurs into your hairline, and you do your best to hide your amused reaction.

Your hearts knock at one another, the muscles in your chests willing to rip skin just to get closer to the other’s soul.

“Oh?” You ask, feigning innocence behind your reaction.

“Look, I could truly go without. But I would be willing to give it a shot if…my partner wants that…”

He doesn’t say it outright, but your stomach flips because you know he’s talking about you.

Because you’re the only person he’s ever addressed with a title.

Girlfriend, partner, significant other…

It’s overwhelming knowing that he makes you the exception to all his rules, that he wants you to be a part of his forever.

Time passed since your fight at Yuki’s home, but your relationship has flourished into something even better that it was before. There are no questions on where you both stand, no room for petty jealousy or hesitations. You are still learning from one another, but it only made your commitment stronger. Your mutual confession of being in love hung over your heads like a daunting shadow, but you both aren’t ready to acknowledge it again just yet.

Love isn’t linear to either one of you, but you are okay not following a trajectory path that was supposed to make sense.

Instead, you both relied on your intuition and desire to lead the way.

But there is now a new hunger that stirred from within - a patience that’s wavering the longer time passes.

The thread is so fine, it’s barely holding it together, but the will to rush that final snap was weak. When these moments bubble and boil over is when you and Suguru have found yourselves entangled in intimate scenarios for the sake of indulgence. There was the steamy make out session which happened at a party which Satoru hosted. The place was packed with Satoru’s friends, and you both snuck away to lock yourselves in a bathroom, a little tipsy as your bodies pulsed with heat. Suguru’s lips were sucking on your aching nipples, and you were grinding up against his thigh hoping to keep your desperate moans down. You were both cooped up in there for a while, and didn’t split apart until someone knocked on the door to interrupt.

There was the night where you slept over at Suguru’s place. He was a bit on edge, and you offered to help him get some much needed release while you both snuggled under the sheets. his hot breath was on your neck while your hand was wrapped around his impressive length.

There was the lazy afternoon where Suguru had you pinned to your couch. The two of you ditching your plans to stay in. Your cheeks were wet with tears from how long he chose to go down on you that day. He was drunk on desire, and you can still recollect image of staining the cushion with your arousal from how wet you were. The noises you made were unnatural, but it was the most pleasure you’ve ever felt.

There was the morning where he woke up to your lips wrapped around his manhood, his voice breaking when dawn cracked through the horizon as he released his passion for you on your tongue. You don’t even know what came over you, for you to wake up with this intense urge to have your lover on your mouth. And especially after Suguru gave you permission in passing, you really wanted to take him up on his offer.

Every single time you both dipped your toes back into it, you could hear a tiny little snip of string.

You’re not even sure what’s keeping it tethered, but it feels too big to ignore that all it will take is one more thing, before the bind will finally break.

Footsteps approach in the distance as other guests start to meander out into the garden.

They remind you both that you are not alone right now.

But all you can think about is just how much you want to be.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

Suguru is charming.

That natural charisma is what you drew you to him in the first place, and you watch all the other guests flock towards it, witness how his seduction transcends every boundariy. But you’re no longer insecure by this anymore. You don’t look at his confidence and shrink with intimidation. Now you gaze upon him with admiration and pride because Suguru’s energy is alluring and enticing, and you get to bask it in to your heart’s content.

The venue shrinks in size when you both stop for a few slow dances, the two of you hooked on one another like an unruly knot.

“Where did you learn to dance?” You whisper with curiosity.

“Mimi and Nana were obsessed with balls,” Suguru responds with a hint of embarrassment. “They needed someone to play lead for them…”

The way he talks about those girls makes you light up. Suguru was so doting towards them in every way. Even now, you have proof of just how much they rely on him. Suguru has cut a couple of dates short to bail them out of their rebellious antics or lose himself to hours on a phone call just to listen in when they need advice about life and love.

To those girls, he was there rock.

While listening to the toasts from the wedding party, Suguru reaches under the table to hold your hand in his. At some point, he just glances in your direction to smile at you, and you feel the whole world move with him.

You think about forever with him - picture a life where this would be an every day occurrence. While you ate dinner, you caught his eyes squinting adorably when he laughed at one of your jokes, and it reminded you of why this side of Suguru is your favorite.

It’s the playful side of someone who isn’t taking himself too seriously or curating a fantasy.

You can’t stop fixating on him; at the way the tip of his noise points a little upward, and how the tendons in his neck would flex with subtle gestures. You’re so lost in this man, that life around you starts to fade, and suddenly there is another pang in your chest.

You really didn’t want to be here anymore.

You really wanted to be alone with him.

As the two guests sitting beside him politely excuse themselves, you feel Suguru pin his shoulder to yours.

Your lips find his ear, “hey,” you murmur, “you want to head out?”

“It’s a bit early to leave. Are you getting tired?” He wonders thoughtfully.

“I have cinnamon rolls back at my place,” you answer, feeling selfish for even suggesting this. “I wouldn’t mind dessert…”

“Not a fan of wedding cake?”

You shake your head no.

Suguru grins. “Alright, let’s go…”

You say goodbye to the bride and groom and thank them for the invite. When you exit the premises you feel like you’re walking on clouds. Suguru takes off his jacket and places it over your shoulders before leading you to the car. Once inside, he strips off his vest and rolls up his sleeves. You can’t help but ogle him as he relaxes, and watch the way his expert fingers unfastens his tie. The veins on his forearms pulse, and your mouth goes dry at the sight.

“You’re such a tease…” you scold playfully, “I wanted to do that…”

He shifts his attention seductively in your direction, but his grin is as cheeky as ever.

“I’ve still got clothes on that you can take off, sweetheart.”

You pout in response.

Suguru has one hand on the wheel, but the other slings around the back of your neck to pull you in. He doesn’t stop himself when he kisses you this time. Your lips part as his tongue slips into your mouth. There’s no reason for him to be considerate of you looking prim and proper now that you are both leaving for the evening.

You moan into the kiss, and he hums in return. When he pulls away, your lipstick is stained all over his mouth, but you instantly catch his face. “Hold on, Sugu…” you giggle, grabbing him with one hand and reaching for the tissue in the glove compartment with the other.

“What? The color doesn’t look good on me?” He teases.

You shake your head as you wipe his mouth. “You’re shameless.”

“Nothing about you gives me any reason to feel shame,” he answers matter of factly.

Your whole body seizes, but you glance down to his mouth to avoid the intense way his eyes were piercing into yours.

You’re still contemplating your relationship on the drive back home. There is music playing from the station, and Suguru is humming along to all his favorite tunes while keeping one of his hands nonchalantly on your thigh. It’s these moments that make your heart quiver - the quiet, mundane things that you get to share with the man of your dreams.

And he really is the man of your dreams.

Suguru always talks about how lucky he got with you, but you can’t help but feel the same way too.

“You know, I don’t need a wedding or marriage to prove I love someone,” you say mindlessly, “I wouldn’t force it on someone who doesn’t want it…”

Suguru squeezes your thigh, but keeps his eyes on the road.

“Oh?” He says, his voice breaking at the abrupt statement.

You trace your index finger over his knuckles, “I believe that love should make you feel safe. You don’t really need anything else if you have that…”

Suguru Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows. He lets your words marinate over his soul before asking, “do you feel safe with me?”

There’s a sense of uncertainty in his tone, like he’s expecting you to deny that fact even though it’s clearly not true. He walked into this relationship thinking he was a sinner and you were a saint. You half wonder if he thinks you’ll tell him that you’re still unsure, and that he will still have to keep working to earn your trust. You clasp your hand over the one that’s resting on your thigh, and turn to look up at him.

He’s avoiding you this time by keeping his eyes on the road.

This is…too much for you both.

“The safest,” you answer softly.

He breathes out his relief but there’s a small, prideful smile resting on his lips.

“Good to know,” he acknowledges, his voice smoother than liquid gold.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

Sugar and cinnamon permeate the corners of your apartment, and the aroma makes your stomach grumble. You’re sitting on the kitchen counter, kicking your legs excitedly as Suguru pulls out the plate that was in the microwave.

The roll is fat, fresh and fluffy - a perfect swirl steaming as the glaze melts between the layers.

Suguru grabs two forks from the drawer and hands one to you.

“Dig in, angel.”

He lets you take the first bite, and you moan loudly as you close your eyes to savor the delicious, most perfect taste of spice and sweet. Suguru just chuckles at the response then takes a bite for himself.

“It’s so good,” you sing.

“It is,” he hums.

You hook both your legs around his to tug him in, keeping as minimal space as possible.

“So much better than cake,” you share in secret, and Suguru just gives you a knowing glance.

“What?” You ask, gently poking the prongs of your fork on his shoulder.

Suguru flickers his eyes down, right through the plate and straight to the space between your legs. The fan of his lashes open up beautifully, and he quirks his brow with mischievous intent.

“I know something else that tastes even better, but I’m behaving myself…”

Your cunt clenches with need, your body clawing at you with its reactions. It’s begging you to do something before it combusts. You ignore the demand, and dig into the cinnamon bun, only this time you bring it to his lips. “Simmer down, lover boy…” you coo.

Suguru smiles, flashing you all his teeth before accepting the bite from your hand. “I can’t around you. That’s the problem…” he says in between chews.

You both continue eating your treat until there is nothing left but the crumbs and drizzle. You swipe some left over frosting along with some powdery bits, and bring it up to Suguru’s mouth. He places the plate by your side, and sucks on your finger, licking it clean. You tap him playfully on the nose, and in turn he leans down to kiss you once more.

The kiss is perfect and easy, and it makes you feel like you’re malleable in every way possible. He turns your world into pink stains and rosy pigments. Your body vibrates like it’s heeding an unspoken call, and you know for a fact that you’re not the only one feeling this right now.

Suguru pulls away, but cups your jaw in his palms to cradle you like you’re a precious stone. He looks deeply into your eyes, a sense of uncertainty burning between that same strong gaze that was rendering you weak.

“I never thought,” he begins to speak, but pauses for a second to collect his thoughts. You notice he does this whenever he has anything serious to say, like he is trying to make sure he’s considerate of his words. “I never thought I would have this…”

His voice is low and hushed, and you bring two hands to wrap around his wrists.

“Fuck, I didn’t even think I wanted this…” he adds on.

You smirk, “I never thought I would have this too. I’ve been on my own for so long…”

“When you rejected my first kiss, ” he speaks, “I thought about backing off. I told myself not to fuck around with you. But…I couldn’t walk away.”

“I almost thought you would,” you added on meekly “when we had that fight at Yuki’s…”

“No matter how angry or upset I get, I’d just come crawling back to you. You have me on my knees without even knowing it…” he sighs, his thumb strokes your cheek but the way he was looking at you has you holding your breath. You can see the gears turning in his head. “I’m safe with you too,” he confirms.

Your heart flutters, it nearly soars its way up your throat and out of your own mouth. Tears prick your eyes, but your try to ignore them. “I’m glad,” you say with a shaky breath, and attempt to clear your throat when it constricts. “I want you to be.”

The muscles on his face pull into a sincere expression, one that’s pensive yet warm. Suguru breaths out your name, and the way it rolls off his tongue feels like a prayer.

“I love you.”

You were expecting it, but when those three words struck you still didn’t anticipate how deep it would puncture through your heart. You blink back the forming tears, a little sniffle leaving you as you maintain your smile. Suguru swallows the lump in his throat, his gaze softening as he arches forward to bring his mouth closer.

You press your fingers against his lips to stop him, your dewy irises seeking out his own.

“I love you too,” you whisper before he can carry on, and a single tear falls unexpectedly which Suguru quickly catches with his thumb.

Your lover presses his mouth to yours with a kiss that fully unravels you. You move to grab onto his shirt, because it feels like you’re turning into dust. His mouth finds your cheek, the tip of your nose, and then moves back to your lips once again. His hand falls to your lap, his arms extending to wrap around you and engulf you in his frame.

And you wanted to be consumed by every part of him.

He picks up your legs and wraps them around his waist, keeps you secure against his chest before lifting you up from the kitchen counter. Your mouth leaves his and finds his neck, your lips licking over the spot that you know makes his cheeks turn a certain shade of red.

He grunts out a curse, and hurries straight to the bedroom.

He shoves his shoulder against the wooden frame, leading you both inside. He carefully perches you on the mattress, then kneels on the ground right in front of you. You wipe the mouth with the back of your hand, your body burning from the layer you still had on. You shrug off Suguru’s jacket, and watch as he carefully clasps your ankle. He places it on his thigh, and removes your pointed heel from one foot.

He arches forward to kiss your knee before switching to your other leg.

One of your hands reaches for the shell of his ear, and you trace the curve all the way down to his piercing.

“Sugu,” you call out to him, as he takes off the second shoe. He lifts his head to find your desperate eyes. “My dress…”

He crawls up your body and hoists you back so you were standing upright on your bare feet. He spins you, so you are facing the bed, making your stomach flip as your eyes stare down at the pillows and slightly rumpled sheets.

It feels different this time.

Your stomach erupts with butterflies.

His expert fingers find the zipper of your dress, and he tugs at the seam and draws it off. Your body exhales from the release, and Suguru kisses the curve of your shoulder as the material drops to your feet.

You turn to face him, and rush to find the buttons of his shirt.

Your hands are shaking.

You unlatch the first button and the second, but by the time you get to the third you feel one of his hands grasp over yours which jitters.

“Baby,” he speaks affectionately, “we don’t have to…”

You shake your head, “no, I want to. I really, really want to. I’m just…a little nervous. We waited so long-”

He loosens his grip when your voice breaks, making it hard for your to speak. His hand meets your naked waist and he interrupts you with another kiss.

“I told you once that I would take such good care of you,” he states, “And I will…”

Your fingers linger over the button of his shirt.

“Don’t rush. We will take it nice and slow,” he ensures, “we’ve got all the time we need.”

He lets you catch yourself; lets you find a minute to breathe from the whirlwind of emotions that have compounded into you. You release a shaky exhale, and try to ignore the way your knees tremble and the back of your neck pricks with warmth.

He taps you underneath your chin, “weren’t you the one giving me the hard time earlier about taking off my clothes?”

The casualness of his delivery makes you puff out a laugh, but the comfort gives you the push you need to continue undressing him. He slips off his shirt, and your hands touch at the surface of his hard torso. You’ve seen Suguru naked countless times now, but he still takes your breath away no matter what. Your hand grazes over the front of his pants, and his eyes flutter close as you touch his hard-on. You unfasten his belt, and unzip his trousers. The fabric falls to the floor, leaving Suguru in just his boxers.

You both step out of the puddle of clothing, and stand half-naked in the middle of the room.

Suguru reaches to hold your hands in his. “If anything, anything…” he speaks quietly, “makes you uncomfortable, just tell me. If you want to stop at any point, we will stop”

“You’ll tell me too?” You respond innocently, and Suguru almost chokes back his reply because no one has ever asked him that question before.

Who knew that such a simple gesture would cause something to pricks his own eyes. “Yeah, sweetheart, I’ll tell you…”

“I want to make sure…” you sigh, “that I do this right”

He smiles against your lips. “Practice makes perfect, right?”, he says with a kiss. “But for tonight, I want this to be about you, okay?”

“But…” you resist, and gaze up at him affectionately with an expression that forces himself to hold back from ruining you right then and there. “but it’s about us. I want you tell me what you like. I want to know what you enjoy. So, I will know for next time…”

“I’ve got you,” he breathes as he bites at your bottom lip with his teeth. “That’s all I need…”

Your head feels so light, you think it’s made of air. “Why does this feel so different from everything we’ve done before?” You gasp, pushing away from his face as your noses bump.

“Because it is different…” Suguru adds, his fingers tucking under your chin to stop you from hiding. “It is.”

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

Tangled between another kiss and between more sweet caresses, you find yourself on the mattress once again. Suguru brings his mouth to your ear, his fingers hooking underneath your damp underwear.

“I need you wet,” he informs under his breath, pressing the pads of his digits to your slick slit. “Really, really wet…”

All you can do is whimper at that.

“You’ll be good for me, yeah, angel? Let me prep you just right?”

Your thighs spread wider. “Yeah, I’ll be good for you…”

Suguru snags your lobe with his teeth - the heat of his mouth travels down your neck. He licks his way down the slope, pausing to suck on the tender, sensitive areas he’s grown to love so much. He moves lower to the mounds of your breasts, and he peppers your chest with soft bites and kisses.

“Unhook your bra for me, love…” he adds, his fingers working your pussy the whole time.

He rubs you gently, and at such a languid pace it makes you want to relax.

You arch your back up, and he separates himself just enough for you to remove your bra.

Your breasts spill out on display for him, and you toss the lacy material over his shoulder which makes his eyes squint with amusement. When it catches on to a lamp and you almost jerk with worry thinking you knocked it over.

“It’s fine,” Suguru soothes, and you cover your mouth to hide your own laugh.

His heart sighs at the response, at the comfort you have with him by your side.

He is the only man in the world who gets to see you like this.

You truly belong to him in every way possible.

Your laugh stutters into quiet pants, as his fingers spread your lips to gather your arousal. He moves up to find your clit, and rubs over the hard little nub carefully.

You sigh into his touch, and only then does he lean to kiss your nipple.

He drags his tongue across the pointed end, his lips circling around the tip to suck. Your arms drape over his shoulders, keeping him in place as your body trembles with desire. Suguru bites and tugs at your nipple, his hand spreading your lips to tease the entrance before returning back to your clit.

Your nails drag down his back, and he groans at the touch.

All you can hear is quiet squelches from between your legs and your pants echoing around you.

Suguru slithers his body lower and lower, his tongue tasting the mid-line of your stomach until he makes his way to your pubis. He presses a kiss to the middle, the heat of his breath getting closer and closer to your clit.

“When you masturbate, have you been doing what I showed you?” He asks.

Your body ignites on fire, and you see his mouth hover of your clit as his fingers pause its movement.

You swallow the thickness in your throat.

Suguru taught you how to finger-fuck yourself. The same night you gave him a hand job, he returned the favor by perching your back against his chest and spreading your legs wide. He guided you and showed you how to carefully press your fingers inside you.

He wanted you to get used to the sensation.

“Yes,” you say with a nod.

“Atta girl,” he answers with pride, then clasps his lips over your clit.

A sound comes from the base of your throat, as your head falls back.

His tongue flicks back and forth over the bud in measured movements, and his fingers spread the lips of your labia. He uses his middle finger to prod at your entrance, grazing over the hole teasingly for a second at first. As your body opens up for him, he pushes it in, and slowly pushes his digit in until it reaches his first knuckle.

You quiver from the sensation - it’s so foreign having someone else penetrate you. You’ve grown use to your own touch, but Suguru’s hands were different than your own.

He drags it back and forth, keeping his mouth over your clit.

The second your breath evens out is when he picks up the pace and pushes his finger even further. Your hips buck gently as he pushes all the way down to the base, a cry leaving your throat as two hands move to grip the pillow behind you.

You can hear him slurp, and lick, and suck. Hear the “schlick” sound that his finger is orchestrating.

He pumps faster and faster, his other hand moving to rest on your lower belly.

Your toes curl, and your legs spasm from the electric shocks that ripple down and up your body.

“Suguru~” you whine, and he just nibbles at your clit in acknowledgement.

Your nose gets a little stuffy, your eyes shut close as white little sparks flash from behind your lids. Your lower back arches as he curls his finger, moving in a come hither motion that makes your belly flutter.

You shake and moan, a string of vowels leaving your tongue.

You tense around his finger as your orgasm pulses through your body, shaking out of you necessarily. Suguru releases your clit with a pop, but only slows his finger inside you. He keeps maintaining his movement, his gaze catching the daze of your own.

He’s insatiable. He doesn’t even know if a lifetime would fulfill him from how badly he craves you.

“I love how you say my name right when you’re about to cum,” he coos, the hand on your lower belly moves further down to touch your tender clit. He massages the bud with his thumb, his other finger fucking you with calculative precision. “The way your voice gets all breathy and light,” he adds on with a purr, “god, it’s my favorite fucking sound…”

You’re besotted by him; your eyes glowing with only love as you feel him work his affection between your legs.

“Going to make you cum again, alright, baby?” He informs, his head dipping back down to replace his thumb with his mouth again.

You nod your head - you told him you would let him lead, and that’s exactly what’s happening right now. Suguru alternates; sometimes his tongue would be on your clit, and others it’s buried between your folds. The way he’s making love to your body right now has you liquifying. You’re not sure where his touch begins and where your pleasure ends.

It feels so good, too good.

You can barely tell when Suguru starts prodding in a second a finger, only when the stretch expands and your breath carries with it.

“Oh, f-fuck…” you shiver against his mouth, and Suguru uses two fingers this time to pump out your second orgasm.

He’s a bit rougher with his movements, allowing his fingers to dip and out of you at a pace that relieves some of his own tension. He pulls his mouth away, and lifts his body slightly up as he sees your thighs splay further apart. His other hand comes down to massage your clit, and you can feel your wetness drip down his fingers and between the line of your sex.

Your belly clenches tightly this time, and your heart skips every other beat.

“Feel good?” he checks in.

“Yesyesyes,” you reply eagerly, your hips lifting from the surface.

“I can see that,” he hums, as he presses more firmly on your clit to swipe back and forth in a quicker motion. “You’re a fucking vision right now…”

The sound you make is pathetic but you don’t even care - you’re so overwhelmed by what’s happening right now you are not considering how untamed you look. Your hips lift up higher, and you buck against Suguru’s ministrations despite how relentless he is.

If that man wants you to cum on fingers or tongue, he will make it happen, regardless of how you respond.

Your second orgasm is sharper, and when it hits, Suguru instantly pulls his hands away and rests it against your hips. Your cunt contracts and pulses in beats, and your spine tingles from the sensation. He arches back forward to snag your a nipple poking against the air. He sucks on the bud, and licks over it once, before sliding his tongue back up your neck until he finds your mouth.

You can smell yourself on him.

Taste yourself on him.

His hands link with your own and he wraps it around his neck so you’re holding him.

He gives you a few minutes to steady yourself, but your breath is being stolen by his lips and tongue.

“One more,” he murmurs against your mouth, and you whimper in defeat.

“You’ll be okay, angel,” he responds as he sits upright.

He unties his hair, his mane surrounding his face in a dark halo. He pulls back the entirety of its length into a single bun, keeping it out of the way as he watches you pant to steady yourself.

It occurs to him then that he forgot to put down a towel, but he’s too far gone to stop.

“We don’t need this anymore,” he instructs, reaching for the string of your panties.

He takes them off you and drops them to the side.

His cock strains against his boxers, the bulge making your eyes widen with anticipation.

He removes them next, allow his dick to spring free as it smacks against him with dribbles of pre-cum leaking from the head.

“Touch yourself,” he instructs, keeping his eyes on you to make sure you follow through.

You tweak your nipple with one hand while the other slithers down your stomach.

God, you were wet.

Suguru gets up from the bed only to reach for his pants. He pulls out his wallet, and finds the condom that he slipped in just a few months ago. He used to have them on him all the time, but stopped carrying one around after you both got together. But ever since things started heating up, he thought it would be good to have one just in case.

“Sugu~?” You call out.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Can I-” you request, and point at the rubbery material with your other hand.

He nods his head and settles back on the bed.

He rips the condom open for you, and you take it. After you position yourself, you proceed to stroke his length, moving back and forth over his shaft and you feeling yourself dripping for him.

Every part of this man is a blessing.

Suguru grunts, and stammers “c-condom….”

But you keep stroking him and lick your lips. “Want you in my mouth…”

He hisses at that, his abdomen flexing when your thumb drags over his slit.

He does everything in his power to keep it together, musters up all the will he can to ensure he doesn’t release himself on your hand right then and then.

“Wait ’til I’m inside you,” he begs, “please, angel…”

You give in because you want it just as much too.

Once you roll the condom on, Suguru grabs onto your ass and pulls you in for another kiss. This one is a little more sloopy, a little more animalistic. He sucks on your tongue, and leaves a mark of bruising adoration on your bottom lip. He slots his knee between your legs, and situates you down so your pussy was pressed against his thigh.

“Grind up against me,” he breathes into your mouth. “I like to feel how wet you are…”

He has one hand on your ass, the other on your nipple which he tweaks and pulls. Your hips start gyrating in thrusts against his thigh, and just as you find a steady pace, he moves to kiss you once again.

The bed creaks and the springs mewl, but you hump his thigh like you’re in insufferable heat.

Suguru flexes his thigh against your cunt, and you claw at the front of his chest as you moan into his mouth.

“I can’t wait to have you riding me,” he smiles into another kiss, and pinches your nipple as you start climbing up yet another peak. He slaps your ass playfully, his teeth biting your bottom lip. “Faster.”

You oblige, and increase the movements.

You pull away from his mouth, and press your forehead to his. Your hands brace yourself on his shoulders until both your legs clench around his thigh.

There’s a tear that leaves you when your orgasm hits this time, but you’re shaking in his arms and he kisses your cheek lovingly.

“So fucking beautiful,” he praises against your ear.

His thigh is sticky with your arousal, the glittering strings clinging on both your bodies.

Suguru kisses you once more, and pushes his weight down so you fall back to the mattress. He keeps you lingering in the act until he aligns himself. “Don’t tense up,” he instructs, “I need you open for me…”

Time goes still with neither of you really breathing. You both focus on the point of contact, watch as Suguru presses the tip of his cock to your entrance. The initial push of the fat head feels like a breach, but you try to do your best to relax.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he sighs like he’s in disbelief, “my pretty pussy…”

And with that, he breaks you.

The stretch makes you scrunch up your nose and brows, but Suguru manages to get the head in with no complications.

“That’s the tip, baby. You’re doing well. Breathe for me, okay? Just relax…”

You nod your head, and follow through. With every exhalation you tell your muscles to relax, and allow your body to turn into something that your lover can mold. Suguru pushes in another inch, moving carefully as to not shock you.

One more now, he counts, watching as you slowly suck him in.

But you hiss when the stretch starts to burn, and the man drops to his forearms to keep you in a close embrace.

“Suguru, wait,” you beg worringly, and he halts his movements instantly.

He kisses your cheek, and then your neck. He kisses your collar bone and then your jaw. He finds your lips and pecks you softly. “Angel,” he soothes, “look at me…”

Your eyes are brimming with tears. He can feel that you’re fully tensed up.

When you meet his gaze, you soften, and sniffle as you try to relax your upper body first.

One of Suguru’s hands finds your hips, and he tenderly rubs gentle circles against your pelvis.

“I know, baby. I know it’s not comfortable right now, but I promise it’ll feel good. You’re taking me in so well…” he ensures, “but I need you to keep breathing, please.”

You release a shaky breath, and nod your head as you lick your lips.

“Nice and slow, remember?” Suguru reminds you. “I’ll only move when you tell me to…”

A few deep breaths in and out, and you finally give him permission to carry on.

He guides you the rest of the way, guides you through the painful breach and stretch of him of finally taking your virginity. Your body doesn’t know anyone else but him, but in turn he realizes that he never wants to be inside anyone else other than you.

You can’t manage his full length at the moment, but that’s okay.

He isn’t going to hurt you.

Not ever.

Goosebumps ripple on your skin. Your head falls back to the pillow as one hand circles around Suguru’s forearm. He kisses your neck with so much care it almost makes your heart shatter to be loved this way. He starts thrusting, his movements so gentle and sweet. His body is connected to yours, his weight heavy as the heat of his cock spreads your gummy walls for him. You tilt your face so you were in line with him, your eyes opening sleepily as you find his set. Your lids are heavy, your body adjusting to the transition from pain to pleasure. Your legs grow weak as they spread further apart from each side, and the more Suguru moves the more he can feel you taking in a little more of him.

“Feels,” you sigh dreamily, “feels good now…”

“Think you can take all of me?” He asks.

“Please,” you beg, “please, try…”

Suguru braces himself, because he knows he just might bust a nut on the spot from how you are squeezing him. He leans down to kiss your temple and your parted lips, then readjusts his position.

And then he thrusts.

Your vision goes white as he buries himself to the hilt. All you can feel his hot heat breath on the side of your neck, the room starting to spin as your body grows to understand this new form, this new feeling.

He stays still for a few minutes just simply cock warming you. It breaks him then, just how long he’s waited with such determination to have you here in his arms like this. You can feel something wet on your skin. Suguru draws in a deep inhale through his nose, far too overwhelmed by his own emotions. “Heaven,” he murmurs into your neck,“you feel like fucking heaven.”

When you meet his stare again, you see that his own eyes are glossy.

Suguru leans down to kiss you, capturing the intimacy on his tongue. “I love you so fucking much,” he exhales once more, and slowly starts moving his hips again.

“Love you too, Sugu~” you whine back and wrap your arms around his shoulder to keep him as close as possible in your embrace.

He presses into you, fucks you like you’re the most delicate thing he’s ever touched, as he makes love to you for the very first time. There is no more words that follow after, just your panting breaths and quiet moans in between. The bed frame hits the wall from his weight, the sheets gathering away from the mattress. You taint the condom with each of his thrusts, both of your hips stuttering from the sensation of your bodies becoming one. Suguru rests his forehead against yours, one hand reaching to lace between your own which he presses down feverishly against the sheet. Your lips hover over one another, sharing each erratic breath. You close your eyes and feel your body blending into all of his angles.

Suguru kisses your cheek, then slips his tongue back inside your open mouth.

You’re tangled and knotted up in every way possible, and your hips begin to spasm as your orgasm builds. You can feel your clit brushing up against him, and the sensation makes you shake as your body comes apart. You break away from the kiss just to look down at the point where your bodies meet, and your toes curl as you consider just how perfectly made you are for one another.

When your orgasm rips, you almost pass out.

Suguru holds you in place, his movements more careless when gives in to his last few thrusts.

He groans loudly when he finally cums.

Your bodies collapse into each other, your form pulled into strings as if you are swimming in a black hole of love. You’re clinging onto him out of need, still attempting to come down from this euphoric high. Meanwhile, Suguru doesn’t pull out just yet, but instead rolls over to his side and keeps you tucked in his frame.

When you meet his attention, you see life bleed back into your little bubble of love.

His hair is tousled, his cheeks a little blushed. You trace your fingers against the crimson blooming underneath his skin, notice that his eyes are still glittering from when the tears formed.

“Hi,” you whisper.

“Hi,” he answers back. “You okay?”

You prod your face into his neck, nuzzling him and gathering his scent. The air smells of your love for each other, and you just wanted to take it all in.

“I’m okay,” you reassure, before returning back and meeting him eye to eye.

Suguru reaches on hand up, and slowly outlines the shell of your ear.

He can’t stop staring at you.

He’s so in love with every part of you.

But this time, there was nothing guarding that fact, it’s written so plainly on his face.

The way he’s looking at you, you know nobody has ever seen such an expression before.

This is a first for him too.

And how lucky are you to be the only person in the world to witness it.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

tags: @gradmacoco @labelt-san @bloomix00 @fleurni

#geto x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x you #suguru geto smut #geto smut #jujutsu kaisen smut

253 notes · View notes

bratzkoo · 8 months ago

Text

barely yours | mingyu pt. 2

Author: bratzkoo | navi Pairing: rockstar! mingyu x reader Word Count: 5.4k Genre: fluff, angst, smut-ish Rating: NC-17 (PG-13 for this chapter only) Possible Warnings: mingyu is an idiot, AGAIN. written in third person.

Summary: you flirt, you fuck, but when you hint that you want to be more he dismissed it as if you’re joking… and when you decide to ignore him he comes back with flowers at your doorstep.

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): @ca-clover, @junniesoleilkth , @gaslysainz , @darkerrdaze , @mansaaay , @childish-fear , @whoa-jo , @movingalongfrs

find other parts here! pt. 1 | pt.2 | pt. 3 | pt. 4

requests are open, but you can just say hi! | masterlist

Y/N felt her carefully constructed facade begin to crumble as she looked into Seungcheol's eyes. The lead vocalist and leader of HHT stood before her, his usually melodic voice now tight with concern and something that sounded like barely contained frustration.

"Y/N," he said, his voice low and urgent. "We need to talk about Mingyu."

She glanced around the hallway, acutely aware of the curious glances from passing employees. This was not a conversation she wanted to have in the middle of her father's company.

"Not here," she hissed, grabbing Seungcheol's arm and pulling him towards an empty conference room. Once inside, she closed the door and leaned against it, as if she could physically block out the complications that were piling up around her.

"What's going on?" Seungcheol demanded as soon as they were alone. "Mingyu showed up at our dorm this morning looking like he'd been hit by a truck. He's refusing to talk to anyone, and we have that radio interview in a few hours."

Y/N closed her eyes, guilt washing over her. She'd been so focused on protecting herself that she hadn't considered how her decision might affect the band. "I... we ended things," she admitted quietly.

Seungcheol's eyebrows shot up. "Ended things? I didn't realize there were 'things' to end. I thought you two were just..."

"Fooling around?" Y/N supplied bitterly. "Yeah, well, it turns out feelings don't always follow the rules we set for them."

Understanding dawned on Seungcheol's face, followed quickly by sympathy. "You fell for him."

It wasn't a question, but Y/N nodded anyway. "I did. And when I tried to talk to him about it, he made it clear that he didn't want anything more. So I ended it."

Seungcheol ran a hand through his hair, a habit he shared with Mingyu when he was stressed. "Shit, Y/N. This is... complicated."

"You think I don't know that?" Y/N snapped, then immediately regretted her tone. "I'm sorry. I just... I don't know what to do. And now my father wants me to take a more active role in managing you guys, and I-"

"Wait, what?" Seungcheol interrupted. "You're going to be our manager?"

Y/N shook her head. "Not exactly. He wants me to be more involved in the management side of things. Apparently, I 'understand your demographic' better than the older executives."

Seungcheol let out a low whistle. "Talk about adding fuel to the fire. How are you going to manage that with... everything else going on?"

"I have no idea," Y/N admitted, slumping into one of the conference room chairs. "I never wanted this, Cheol. Any of it. I was happy being the party girl, the CEO's wild child. It was easier."

Seungcheol took the seat next to her, his expression softening. "Maybe it was easier, but was it really what you wanted? Because the Y/N I know is smart, talented, and more than capable of handling whatever comes her way."

Y/N felt a lump form in her throat at his words. It had been a long time since someone had seen her as more than just a pretty face or a potential scandal. "I'm scared," she whispered.

Seungcheol reached out, taking her hand in his. "It's okay to be scared. But you're not alone in this, Y/N. The band... we care about you. Both you and Mingyu."

At the mention of Mingyu's name, Y/N felt her heart clench. "How is he, really?"

Seungcheol sighed. "He's hurting. I've never seen him like this before. Whatever was between you two... I don't think it was as casual for him as he let on."

Y/N's head snapped up, hope and confusion warring in her chest. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Seungcheol said carefully, "that maybe you two need to have an actual conversation. One where you both be honest about your feelings."

"I tried that," Y/N protested. "He laughed it off."

"And you immediately ended things instead of pushing the issue," Seungcheol pointed out gently. "Look, I'm not taking sides here. You're both my friends. But I think there's more to this story than either of you are seeing right now."

Y/N wanted to argue, to defend her decision. But a small part of her wondered if Seungcheol might be right. Had she been too hasty? Too afraid of rejection to really hear what Mingyu was saying – or not saying?

Before she could respond, Seungcheol's phone buzzed. He glanced at it and grimaced. "That's our manager. I need to go wrangle the guys for this interview." He stood, then hesitated. "Y/N, promise me you'll think about what I said. And maybe... maybe come to our studio session tomorrow? We could use your input on some of the new tracks."

Y/N nodded, not trusting herself to speak. As Seungcheol reached the door, she found her voice. "Cheol? Thank you. For everything."

He flashed her a warm smile. "That's what friends are for. Just... don't let fear make your decisions for you, okay?"

As the door closed behind him, Y/N leaned back in her chair, her mind whirling. She'd thought ending things with Mingyu would simplify her life, but it seemed to have done the exact opposite. Now she had a broken heart, a new job she wasn't sure she wanted, and the possibility that she'd misunderstood everything about her relationship with Mingyu.

Her phone buzzed, and she looked down to see a message from her father:

"Meeting with HHT's team tomorrow at 10 AM. Be there."

Y/N closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Tomorrow, she would have to face Mingyu, the band, and her new responsibilities all at once. She wasn't sure if she was ready, but she knew she didn't have a choice.

As she left the conference room and made her way out of the building, Y/N made a decision. She would go to the studio session tomorrow, as Seungcheol had suggested. She would face her fears head-on.

And maybe, just maybe, she would find the courage to have that honest conversation with Mingyu. Because if there was even a chance that he felt the same way...

Well, that was a risk she might just be willing to take.

Y/N stood outside the studio door, her hand hovering over the handle. She could hear muffled voices and the faint strains of music from inside. Taking a deep breath, she smoothed down her blazer and steeled herself. Today, she wasn't Hwang Y/N, the party girl with a broken heart. She was Hwang Y/N, the professional, here to do a job.

With that thought firmly in mind, she pushed open the door.

The chatter inside the studio immediately died down as she entered. Five pairs of eyes turned to her, but she only allowed herself to focus on one – Seungcheol's. He gave her a small, encouraging nod.

"Good morning, everyone," Y/N said, proud of how steady her voice sounded. "I hope you don't mind, but I'll be sitting in on your session today. My father thinks it would be beneficial for me to have a more hands-on role in the creative process."

She deliberately avoided looking at Mingyu, who she could sense was staring at her intently from his position by the guitar rack.

Vernon was the first to break the awkward silence. "Cool, always good to have a fresh pair of ears. We're working on the bridge for the title track. Want to hear what we've got so far?"

Y/N nodded gratefully, taking a seat next to the sound engineer. As the music started playing, she allowed herself to get lost in the melody, analyzing the composition and arrangement. This, at least, was familiar territory. She'd always had a good ear for music, even if she'd never pursued it professionally.

As the song progressed, she found herself nodding along, impressed by the intricate harmonies and the way Seungcheol's powerful vocals blended with the instrumental. But something was off in the bridge – the guitar riff didn't quite mesh with the rest of the arrangement.

When the song ended, Y/N cleared her throat. "That was great, guys. Really solid work. But I think the bridge needs some tweaking. The guitar part feels a bit... disjointed."

She saw Mingyu stiffen out of the corner of her eye, but she kept her gaze fixed on Seungcheol.

"What do you suggest?" Wonwoo asked, leaning forward with interest.

Y/N bit her lip, considering. "Maybe if we simplified the riff a bit? Something that complements Seungcheol's vocals rather than competing with them."

There was a moment of silence, and then Mingyu spoke for the first time. "And what would you know about composing guitar parts?"

His tone was cold, almost challenging. Y/N finally allowed herself to look at him, keeping her expression neutral despite the way her heart raced at the sight of him. He looked tired, with dark circles under his eyes, but still unfairly handsome.

"I may not be a guitarist," Y/N replied evenly, "but I know what sounds good. And right now, that bridge doesn't flow with the rest of the song."

Mingyu opened his mouth to argue, but Seungcheol cut him off. "She's right, Gyu. I was thinking the same thing, but I couldn't put my finger on why it wasn't working. Let's try simplifying it."

For a moment, it looked like Mingyu might argue further. But then he shrugged, turning back to his guitar. "Fine. Let's hear your ideas then, Y/N."

The way he said her name, like it left a bitter taste in his mouth, made Y/N wince internally. But she pushed through, working with the band to refine the bridge. To her surprise, once they got past the initial awkwardness, the creative process flowed smoothly. Even Mingyu, despite his obvious reluctance, contributed valuable ideas.

As the hours passed, Y/N found herself relaxing into her role. She offered suggestions on vocal arrangements, helped fine-tune lyrics, and even hummed out a melody idea that Vernon quickly turned into a catchy hook for their b-side track.

It wasn't until their manager called for a lunch break that the comfortable bubble of creativity burst. As the others filed out of the studio, chatting about where to grab food, Y/N hung back, gathering her notes. She was so focused on avoiding being alone with Mingyu that she didn't notice Seungcheol had stayed behind until he spoke.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Y/N looked up, offering him a small smile. "No, it wasn't. You guys are incredibly talented. It's... it's an honor to work with you like this."

Seungcheol's expression softened. "You're good at this, Y/N. Really good. Have you ever thought about pursuing music production?"

She shook her head. "Not really. It was always just a hobby. Besides, my father has other plans for me."

"Maybe it's time to make your own plans," Seungcheol suggested gently. Then, after a pause, "Mingyu was watching you, you know. When you weren't looking."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat, but she forced herself to shrug nonchalantly. "We have to work together now. It's bound to be awkward for a while."

Seungcheol looked like he wanted to say more, but just then, the studio door opened and Mingyu walked in, stopping short when he saw them.

"Sorry," he muttered. "Forgot my phone."

The tension in the room was palpable as Mingyu retrieved his phone from beside his guitar. Y/N kept her eyes fixed on her notes, hyper-aware of his every movement.

As he turned to leave, Mingyu paused. "The bridge sounds better now," he said stiffly, not quite looking at Y/N. "Good call."

Before she could respond, he was gone, the door closing firmly behind him.

Y/N let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "This is going to be harder than I thought," she admitted quietly.

Seungcheol squeezed her shoulder supportively. "Give it time. And maybe... maybe try talking to him? Outside of work?"

Y/N shook her head firmly. "No. It's better this way. Clean break, professional distance. It's the only way this can work."

As they left the studio to join the others for lunch, Y/N repeated those words in her head like a mantra. Professional distance. It was the right thing to do.

So why did it feel so wrong? -

The atmosphere in the practice room was thick with tension, the usual easy banter replaced by an uncomfortable silence broken only by the sound of instruments being tuned. Seungcheol watched as Mingyu stole yet another glance at Y/N, who was studiously avoiding eye contact as she reviewed some paperwork in the corner. The leader of HHT sighed inwardly, knowing that something had to give.

For weeks now, Seungcheol had noticed the change in dynamics between Mingyu and Y/N. The playful flirtation that had once been a constant source of amusement (and occasional exasperation) for the band had vanished, replaced by awkward silences and stilted interactions. It was more than just personal drama – it was affecting the band's chemistry, and as the leader, Seungcheol knew he had to do something.

"Alright, let's take it from the top," Seungcheol called out, hoping that focusing on the music might alleviate some of the tension.

As they launched into their latest single, Seungcheol couldn't help but notice how Mingyu's usually flawless guitar work seemed off. The tall guitarist kept missing cues, his rhythm slightly out of sync with the rest of the band. Every time this happened, Mingyu's eyes would dart to Y/N, as if seeking her reaction, only to quickly look away when he realized she wasn't even watching.

Y/N, for her part, seemed determined to focus solely on her work. She sat in the corner, ostensibly reviewing marketing reports, but Seungcheol noticed how her pen hadn't moved on the page for the past ten minutes. Every now and then, when she thought no one was looking, her gaze would flicker to Mingyu, a mixture of longing and hurt in her eyes.

After an hour of subpar practice, Seungcheol called for a break. As the other members dispersed, grabbing water bottles and checking their phones, he pulled Vernon and Wonwoo aside.

"We need to talk about the Mingyu-Y/N situation," he said in a low voice, guiding them to a quiet corner of the room.

Vernon nodded, relief evident on his face. "Thank god someone said it. The tension is killing me. I feel like I'm walking on eggshells every time they're in the same room."

Wonwoo frowned, his usually calm demeanor showing signs of strain. "It's affecting our performance too. Did you hear Mingyu during that bridge? I've never heard him miss those notes before."

Seungcheol ran a hand through his hair, a habit he'd picked up when stressed. "I know. That's why we need to do something. I have an idea, but I'm going to need your help."

As Seungcheol outlined his plan, Vernon's eyes widened in disbelief while Wonwoo's narrowed in thought.

"Fake dating?" Vernon whispered, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Mingyu wasn't within earshot. "Isn't that a bit… I don't know, dramatic?"

Seungcheol shrugged. "Maybe. But subtle hasn't been working. Those two are too stubborn for their own good. Sometimes you need to fight fire with fire."

Wonwoo nodded slowly. "It could work. But are you sure Y/N will agree to it?"

"Leave Y/N to me," Seungcheol said, a determined glint in his eye. "For now, I need you two to help set the stage. Can I count on you?"

Both Vernon and Wonwoo nodded, though Vernon still looked a bit uncertain. As they broke apart, returning to their instruments, none of them noticed Mingyu watching them with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

Later that week, Y/N was working late in her office, the soft glow of her desk lamp the only light in the room. She rubbed her eyes, tired from staring at spreadsheets all day. As she reached for her coffee mug, a soft knock on the door made her jump.

"Come in," she called, straightening up in her chair.

Seungcheol poked his head in, an unusually serious expression on his face. "Got a minute?"

Y/N nodded, gesturing for him to sit. "What's up, Cheol? Is everything okay with the band?"

Seungcheol settled into the chair across from her, his usually relaxed posture tense. "Yes and no. The band is fine, but… well, that's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about."

Y/N felt a knot form in her stomach. She had a feeling she knew where this was going. "If this is about Mingyu-"

"It is," Seungcheol cut in gently. "But not in the way you might think. I have a… proposition for you."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite herself. "I'm listening."

Seungcheol took a deep breath. "Look, we've all noticed the tension between you two. It's affecting the band, and frankly, I hate seeing you both so miserable."

"I'm not-" Y/N started to protest, but Seungcheol held up a hand.

"Y/N, come on. We've known each other too long for that. You're not happy, and neither is Mingyu. But you're both too stubborn to do anything about it."

Y/N slumped back in her chair, the fight going out of her. "What am I supposed to do, Cheol? He made it clear he doesn't want anything serious. I can't keep putting myself out there just to get hurt again."

Seungcheol leaned forward, his eyes intense. "What if we gave Mingyu a taste of his own medicine? What if… we pretended to date?"

Y/N's eyes widened in shock. "What? Cheol, that's crazy. Why would we-"

"To make Mingyu jealous," Seungcheol interrupted. "Look, I've known Mingyu for years. He's stubborn and proud, but he cares about you. A lot. I think seeing you with someone else might be the push he needs to confront his feelings."

Y/N bit her lip, considering. The idea was tempting, but… "But what about the band? And my position? Wouldn't it complicate things even more?"

Seungcheol shrugged. "Maybe. But it could also solve our Mingyu problem. Plus, it might help deflect some of the pressure from your dad about taking things seriously. Dating the lead singer of HHT? That's a power move in the industry."

Y/N couldn't help but laugh at that. "You've really thought this through, haven't you?"

"I care about both of you," Seungcheol said sincerely. "And I hate seeing you two dance around each other like this. So, what do you say? Want to be my fake girlfriend?"

After a moment of hesitation, Y/N nodded. "Okay. Let's do it. But we need to set some ground rules…"

Over the next few days, Seungcheol and Y/N put their plan into action. They started small - sitting closer during meetings, sharing inside jokes, leaving together after practice. The other band members, clued in by Seungcheol, played along perfectly.

Vernon, ever the actor, would waggle his eyebrows suggestively whenever he saw them together. Wonwoo, more subtle in his approach, would casually mention how much time Seungcheol and Y/N had been spending together lately.

Mingyu, however, was oblivious to the plan. At first, he barely seemed to notice the change in dynamics. He was too caught up in his own thoughts, alternating between trying to figure out what had gone wrong with Y/N and convincing himself he didn't care.

But as the days passed, little things started to catch his attention. The way Seungcheol's hand would linger on Y/N's back as they walked into a room. The inside jokes they seemed to share, leaving the rest of the group puzzled. The fact that Y/N was suddenly at every practice session, even when she didn't need to be.

During one particularly grueling practice, Mingyu fumbled a guitar riff he'd played perfectly a hundred times before. His eyes were fixed on Y/N, who was laughing at something Seungcheol had whispered in her ear. The sound of her laughter, once a source of joy for Mingyu, now felt like a knife twisting in his gut.

"Dude, you okay?" Vernon asked, concern evident in his voice.

Mingyu shook his head, trying to clear it. "Yeah, just… distracted."

Vernon followed Mingyu's gaze to where Seungcheol and Y/N were huddled together, looking at something on Y/N's phone. "They've been spending a lot of time together lately, huh?" he said, his tone carefully neutral.

Mingyu grunted noncommittally, but his grip on his guitar tightened. "I guess. Not that it's any of my business."

Vernon raised an eyebrow at that but didn't push further. As they resumed practice, he exchanged a meaningful look with Wonwoo. Their plan was working, perhaps a little too well.

As the days turned into weeks, Mingyu's mood grew increasingly sour. He snapped at staff members over minor mistakes, isolated himself during breaks, and threw himself into his music with an almost manic intensity. His songwriting, always emotionally charged, took on a darker, more melancholic tone.

One evening, after a particularly tense practice session, Wonwoo found Mingyu alone in the studio, furiously scribbling in his notebook.

"New song?" Wonwoo asked, settling into a chair nearby.

Mingyu nodded without looking up. "Yeah. It's… it's about letting go of something you never really had."

Wonwoo's eyebrows shot up at that. "Sounds heavy. Want to talk about it?"

For a moment, it looked like Mingyu might open up. But then he shook his head, slamming the notebook shut. "It's nothing. Just… exploring some new themes."

As Mingyu stood to leave, Wonwoo called out, "You know, if something's bothering you, you can talk to us. We're not just your bandmates, we're your friends."

Mingyu paused at the door, his back to Wonwoo. "I know," he said softly. "But some things… some things you have to figure out on your own."

With that, he was gone, leaving Wonwoo to wonder if perhaps their plan was causing more harm than good.

The situation finally came to a head at a company party celebrating HHT's latest album going platinum. The event was in full swing, the cream of the K-pop industry mingling in a high-end Seoul nightclub.

Mingyu arrived late, his hair disheveled and dark circles under his eyes. He'd spent hours agonizing over whether to attend, knowing Y/N would be there. In the end, his pride (and a strongly worded text from their manager) had won out.

He froze in the doorway as he spotted Y/N and Seungcheol on the dance floor. Y/N was wearing a stunning red dress that hugged her curves, her hair swept up to reveal the graceful line of her neck. Seungcheol, looking handsome in a well-fitted suit, had his hand on her waist as they moved in perfect sync to the music.

Something snapped inside Mingyu. He stormed over to the bar, downing a shot of soju before grabbing another. As he watched Y/N throw her head back in laughter at something Seungcheol said, a series of memories flashed through Mingyu's mind:

Y/N's shy smile the first time they met at a company event. The electricity he felt the first time they kissed, hidden away in a dark corner of a after-party. Late nights spent talking about their dreams and fears, sharing parts of themselves they'd never shown anyone else. The way Y/N's eyes lit up when she listened to his new songs, always the first to offer genuine feedback and encouragement.

And then, more recent memories: The hurt in Y/N's eyes when he'd laughed off her suggestion of something more serious. The growing distance between them, a chasm he hadn't known how to bridge. The ache he felt every time he saw her now, an ache he'd tried to ignore, to rationalize away as mere physical attraction.

But seeing her now, radiant and happy in another man's arms, Mingyu could no longer deny the truth. He was in love with Y/N. Truly, madly, deeply, irrevocably in love. And he might have just lost her to his best friend.

The realization hit him like a physical blow. The glass in Mingyu's hand shattered, startling nearby partygoers. Blood dripped from his palm, but he barely noticed. All he could see was Y/N, beautiful and radiant, looking at Seungcheol with an affection that used to be reserved for him.

As staff rushed to tend to his injured hand, Mingyu's eyes met Y/N's across the room. The concern in her gaze was almost more than he could bear. In that moment, Mingyu knew he had to fight for her, to tell her how he really felt, before it was too late.

But first, he had some serious groveling to do. And maybe, just maybe, a chance to turn his pain into the most heartfelt song he'd ever written.

As he allowed himself to be led away for medical attention, Mingyu's mind was already racing with lyrics, a melody forming that he hoped would convey everything he'd been too afraid to say. He'd messed up, pushed away the best thing in his life out of fear and stubbornness. But if there was even a chance that Y/N still cared for him, he'd move heaven and earth to win her back.

Little did Mingyu know, across the room, Y/N was fighting every instinct to run to him, her heart breaking at the pain evident in his eyes. As Seungcheol squeezed her hand reassuringly, Y/N wondered if their plan had worked a little too well. -

Y/N went home to her apartment. She sat curled up on her couch, a glass of wine in hand, trying to process the events of the evening. The company party had not gone as planned – the image of Mingyu's pain-filled eyes as he clutched his bleeding hand was seared into her memory.

Y/N's phone buzzed for the umpteenth time. Another message from Seungcheol:

"Are you sure you're okay? I can come over if you need to talk."

She sighed, typing out a quick reply:

"I'm fine. Just need some time to think. Talk tomorrow?"

As she hit send, a loud, insistent knocking startled her. Y/N glanced at the clock – 1:37 AM. Who could it be at this hour?

The knocking continued, more urgently now. "Y/N! Y/N, I know you're in there! Please… please open up."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat. She'd recognize that voice anywhere, even slurred as it was now. Mingyu.

Hesitantly, she made her way to the door. Taking a deep breath, she opened it to find Mingyu leaning heavily against the doorframe, his usually impeccable appearance in disarray. His shirt was partially unbuttoned, hair a mess, and the unmistakable smell of soju wafted from him.

"Mingyu?" Y/N said, shock evident in her voice. "What are you doing here?"

Mingyu's eyes, glassy from alcohol, focused on her face. A lopsided smile spread across his features. "Y/N… beautiful Y/N. I had to see you. Had to tell you…"

He stumbled forward, nearly falling. Y/N instinctively reached out to steady him, the familiar warmth of his body sending a jolt through her.

"Woah, easy there," she said, guiding him inside and closing the door. "Mingyu, you're drunk. You shouldn't be here."

Mingyu allowed himself to be led to the couch, collapsing onto it with a heavy sigh. "I know, I know. 'm not supposed to be here. But I couldn't… couldn't stop thinking about you. About us."

Y/N perched on the edge of the coffee table, facing him. Despite her better judgment, concern overtook her resolve to keep her distance. "Mingyu, what's going on? Are you okay? Your hand–"

Mingyu waved dismissively, wincing slightly at the movement. His palm was wrapped in a white bandage, a few spots of red seeping through. "It's nothing. Doesn't hurt. Not like…" he trailed off, his eyes growing sad.

"Not like what?" Y/N prompted gently.

"Not like seeing you with him," Mingyu finished, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N felt her heart clench. This was exactly the reaction their fake dating scheme was meant to provoke, but seeing Mingyu in actual pain made her question the wisdom of their plan.

"Mingyu, I–"

"No, let me… let me say this," Mingyu interrupted, sitting up straighter and fixing Y/N with an intense gaze. "I messed up, Y/N. I messed up so bad. I thought… I thought I could handle seeing you with someone else. Thought it didn't matter. But it does. It matters so much."

He reached out, taking Y/N's hands in his. She knew she should pull away, but found herself frozen, captivated by the raw emotion in Mingyu's eyes.

"I miss you," Mingyu continued, his thumbs tracing circles on her palms. "I miss your laugh, your smile. The way you scrunch up your nose when you're concentrating. I miss the way you make me feel – like I'm more than just a idol, more than just a pretty face or a good voice. With you, I'm just… me."

Y/N felt tears pricking at her eyes. This was everything she had wanted to hear for so long, but the circumstances were all wrong. "Mingyu, you're drunk. You don't know what you're saying."

Mingyu shook his head vehemently, then immediately looked like he regretted the motion. "No, no. I'm drunk, yes. But I know… I know what I feel. What I've always felt, even if I was too scared to admit it."

He slid off the couch, landing on his knees in front of Y/N. In any other situation, it might have been comical, but the desperation in his eyes killed any urge to laugh.

"Please, Y/N," Mingyu pleaded, still clutching her hands. "Please give me another chance. Break up with Seungcheol. He's… he's my friend, but he's not right for you. Not like I am. We're… we're meant to be together. I see that now."

Y/N felt panic rising in her chest. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Mingyu wasn't supposed to show up at her door, drunk and emotional, laying his heart bare. She wasn't prepared for this.

"Mingyu, listen to me," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "You're not thinking clearly. We can't… I can't…"

But Mingyu wasn't listening. His eyes had taken on a glassy, unfocused look. "I'll do better this time, I promise. I'll… I'll write you songs. Take you on real dates. Show the whole world how much you mean to me. Just please… please don't leave me."

His impassioned speech was interrupted by a wide yawn. The adrenaline and alcohol seemed to be wearing off, leaving exhaustion in their wake.

"I love you, Y/N," Mingyu mumbled, his head drooping. "I love you so much. Please… please just…"

And with that, Mingyu slumped forward, his head coming to rest in Y/N's lap. Within seconds, soft snores filled the air.

Y/N sat frozen, her mind reeling. Mingyu's words echoed in her head, everything she had longed to hear for months. But was it real? Or just the ramblings of a drunk, jealous man?

Gently, she extricated herself from under Mingyu, laying him out on the couch and covering him with a throw blanket. She allowed herself a moment to study his face, peaceful in sleep, before retreating to her bedroom.

As she lay in bed, sleep eluding her, Y/N's thoughts were a jumbled mess. The fake dating plan had worked – perhaps too well. Mingyu had confessed his feelings, but at what cost? And what would happen in the morning, when he woke up in her apartment with a killer hangover and the memory of his whiskey-soaked confessions?

One thing was clear: the game they'd been playing had just gotten a lot more complicated. And Y/N had a sinking feeling that someone's heart was bound to get broken in the process – quite possibly her own.

#svt #mansaenetwork #mingyu fic #kim mingyu #mingyu #mingyu imagine #kim mingyu fic #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #mingyu fluff #mingyu angst #mingyu smut #svt x reader #mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x reader #rockstar! mingyu #rockstar! mingyu x reader

451 notes · View notes

subliminalghoest · 27 days ago

Text

Safe house 3

Ghoap x f!reader (read part one & two)

-the third instalment is hereeee

-Warning: Slow-burn, fluff, we getting real angsty with this part (you've been warned)

———————————————————————————

You didn't believe it—not really. But there it was in the scope. A perfect shot.

“Bloody hell,” Price said behind you, voice low with something between disbelief and pride. “That’s 1,750 metres. New team record.”

He clapped a hand on your shoulder. “What’s the reward, then, Lieutenant?”

All eyes flicked to Ghost. He was still looking through the spotting scope, unmoving. Like he needed to double-check that what just happened... actually happened.

It took a second before he spoke, like the words had to boot up. “…Bragging rights.”

It’s a tradition in the team that they never hand out literal awards for new records and such, only the bragging rights over the rest of the team. Nobody wanted trophies turning into reminders of those who didn't make it home.

You rose, still in quiet disbelief, and each member clasped you on the shoulder, offering their kudos—Soap practically lifting you off the floor in excitement, “Christ, I’m never hearin’ the end of it, am I?” he chortled as you helped him up.

You shoved his shoulder. Grinned. “Only fair.”

“Hell of a shot.” You blinked at Ghost quietly packing up the equipment, “You really are as impressive as your file said.”

Your cheeks heated, Simon had never really spoken to you out of choice—only ever orders or corrections during training. You were still relatively new to the team, still figuring out your place with them, and Ghost... Ghost was a fortress. But hey, the harder they are to break, the sweeter the victory.

You smirked, mock saluting. “Just getting started, Lt.”

A deep chuckle escaped him as the finished with the gear, straightening up and confirming that, yes, you still were unaccustomed to his sheer size.

“You are already solid. Don't waste your time proving yourself,” he hesitated “…and call me Simon.”

You didn't know this at the time, but you would grow to become one of the three people with the privilege of seeing the man under the mask.

Back then, it was all about bragging rights. Now... it felt ridiculous to care for something so insignificant.

This was the kind of record nobody celebrated—other than grim understanding of what it meant.

This was the longest anybody had been comms silent and came back to claim their title.

Soap was still out there.

His mission had been a solo recon assist—a quick in-and-out, they said. You and Ghost weren’t on the roster, just supposed to wait it out, keep things running here. But now it was 4 days later—no update. You weren’t on the mission, but your head replayed every worst-case scenario like you were living them anyway.

Your heart thudded heavy in your chest. You stared harder at the screen. Like maybe you could force your thoughts away if you glared long enough.

“Staring isn't gonna bring him back any faster.” Price startled you from your spot curled up in a chair in the tech room, which you had spent more time in than out of the last 4 days.

Rubbing your sore eyes you straightened yourself, “It’s my shift, Captain.”

Confusion crossed his face before he glanced above your head and saw Ghost entering the room, the same dark purple marking his eyes as yours.

“I’m not having two of my best dragging arse if we get the call.” Price pointedly looked between the both of you, “Off the clock means off. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“But we—” a sharp glare in your direction cuts off your objection. Price was your Captain, his word was the law to you, no loopholes.

You gathered the rubbish on the desk from your snacks and began to leave, noticing Ghost had left without waiting for you or uttering a single word—strange.

Sleep evaded you into the early hours of the morning, the base silent around you. Too quiet. Without Soap here it felt like your world axis had been shifted and there was a gap that wouldn't fill until he returned. He would return, he had to. Claim his record title and brag your ear off about it far into the future.

The ceiling began moving as your eyes unfocused from staring at it too hard, pressing your palm into the sockets to try and alleviate the sting.

Then—

A knock.

You sat up instantly, heart leaping into your throat. For one impossible second, you thought it might be Johnny. Back, smiling like always, grinning through dirt and blood.

“I’d like to see you last 4 days in the wilderness with no comms, fucking majestic I was—wish you could've seen it, eh?”

But the knock came again—slower. Heavier.

Not Soap.

“…Yeah?” you called, already getting up knowing who it would most likely be.

You cracked the door open, and Ghost’s hulking figure filled the space.

He lingered in the doorway, half-lit by the hallway light. “Sorry,” he said quietly. “Didn’t know where else to go.”

You blinked at him. “You okay?”

He stepped inside and shut the door softly behind him. He looked more tired than usual. Heavy. Not in a physical way, but in the way he carried the silence around him.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “Didn’t want to sit in my head all night.”

You nodded and motioned to the bed. “Sit. I’m up anyway.”

He sat down without a word, elbows braced on his knees. You stood in front of him, waiting.

Ghost wasn’t one to spill his thoughts easily. But he looked up at you now, his voice raw in a way you rarely heard.

“I keep thinkin’ the worst,” he admitted. “Every time the comms go dark like this, I wonder if I’ve already seen him for the last time.”

Your breath caught. You hadn’t let yourself say that out loud. Not yet. But Ghost’s voice cracked something open in you. Tore off the bandage you’d put up.

“He’s smart,” you said, gently. “He’s been in tighter spots than this.”

“I know.” He paused. “Still... it’s different when it’s someone you—” He cut himself off. Looked away.

You blinked. Love, thats what he was gonna say—not in the brother in arms, die for eachtoher way. They lovedeachhother.

Still, you kept your voice soft. Steady. “That’s why you’re scared,” you said. “You love him.”

Ghost didn’t respond right away. Just stared at the floor between his boots. Then—barely audible—“Yeah.”

A silence settled over you both, you didn't know how to respond. Already too emotionally raw from the past few days to fully fill in the gaps of what this meant in your head. You didn't need to though, Ghost continued, “We’ve been together. For a while.”

A while.

Oh.

You nodded slowly, but it felt like something inside you had been suddenly carved out.

You thought the safehouse night had been the start of something. Some messy, fragile maybe. But this?

They’d already had their beginning. And maybe an entire middle, too. And you... you’d just been a brief detour.

Your stomach twisted.

You moved closer, just slightly, and let your fingers brush over his shoulder. “He’ll come back,” you murmured. “To you.”

Ghost lifted his head at that. His eyes were unreadable behind the mask, but he reached out—slowly—and caught your wrist. Gently pulled you forward until you were standing between his knees.

Then his arms went around you, and he tugged you into a hug—tight, grounding.

You stiffened for a split second, then let yourself melt into it. Even with your heart aching, you didn’t pull away.

He needed comfort. And despite everything, you wanted to give it to him.

You stayed like that for a long moment. Your cheek pressed to the top of his head, his hands curled around your waist. His breath steady against your stomach. You let your fingers run gently through his hair where his mask didn’t cover it.

The moment stretched on as you held each other, bordering on the kind of intimacy you had been working so hard to forget.

Finally, he shifted, tilting his head up. “Can I stay?”

You hesitated. Then nodded. You couldn’t resist sliding your palm against his cheek, your heart squeezing slightly when he leaned his head into your palm and smiled softly. He looked so beautiful in that moment, it almost hurt to look at him.

He peeled away with a kiss to your palm, pulled away and climbed into bed. Your bed. You joined him, keeping to the edge at first, unsure. Your back to him.

But then his hand found your hip.

He hesitated. You could feel it in the way he held his breath.

Then he gently tugged.

You let him. Took what was given.

His arm came around your waist. His body curved against your back. Cocooning you in a warmth which quieted your mind.

Peaceful.

He pressed his face into your hair, and you could feel the tremble in his chest. Like even now, even after everything, he was still coming undone.

You let yourself be held.

Neither of you spoke for a while. Just the quiet sound of breathing in the dark.

Then Ghost said, voice dry, “You remember the safehouse?”

You let out a soft sound, half-laugh. “Kinda hard to forget, Simon.”

“Hm.” He nudged your temple with his nose, “Didn’t take you for a cuddler back then.”

“I’m not,” you muttered. “That was survival. You two were warm. That’s all.”

“Right,” he said, clearly unconvinced.

You tilted your head back enough to look at him. “You started it, anyway.”

“Hmm, don’t blame me—Soap was the one practically drooling on your neck.” he added, almost fondly.

You laughed, and he chuckled low behind you. It warmed something inside you that had gone cold earlier.

But then he shifted again, and his fingers traced the curve of your neck—your breath hitched. “Don’t regret it, though. Best night sleep I’ve had in years.”

He remained there for a moment, testing your reaction to his hand tracing patterns on your neck. Cataloguing each hitch or stutter to your breath—how your legs softly shifted when he found a sensitive spot behind your ear.

He moved his hand higher, gripping your chin and tilted your head toward him slowly. Gently.

Your body shifted to face his, settling against each other just as easily as you had in that safe house.

Ghost stared at you like he was waiting for you to pull away first—like he was giving you the chance to take it back.

You didn’t.

You leaned in, just enough, and his eyes shuttered closed.

When his lips met yours, it was soft. Fragile. A question, not a demand. You answered with the same quiet need, sinking into him, one hand fisting in the fabric of his shirt.

He kissed you like he didn’t know if he was allowed to want this—but couldn’t stop himself anyway.

It deepened, gradually. Mouths pressing firmer, breaths quickening. His hands tightened at your waist, fingers twitching with restraint.

You could feel the rough fabric of his mask brushing your lips. A barrier stopping you from feeling him fully.

And then, without thinking, you reached up—gripped the edges—and pulled.

He stilled, just for a moment. But he didn’t stop you.

You peeled the mask off and tossed it to the side—didn’t care where it landed. You wanted him.

And he gave in.

The kiss broke for half a breath—just long enough to see his eyes, wide and searching—and then your mouths crashed together again.

No restraint now.

Your hands buried in his hair, his tongue sweeping against yours, slow and warm and desperate. He groaned into your mouth, raw and wrecked, and the sound shattered something in you, sent heat pooling in your core.

You didn’t hold back.

You let yourself get lost in it—chests pressed, bodies tangled, breath stuttering between kisses that bled together. Hands grasping at your hips pulling you further into him, feeling the need for you against your core. Twisting, his body now half on top of you as he pushed you deeper into the mattress. There was no precision. No careful rhythm. Just aching mouths and shaking hands and raw, quiet desperation.

You kissed like you were the only thing keeping each other grounded.

You kissed like it meant everything.

And maybe… maybe for a moment, it did.

But then—reality.

You felt it before you thought it. A crackle of guilt. A flash of doubt.

Reality crashed in.

You pulled back.

Not all at once. Just an inch. Then another.

Ghost chased you for a second, eyes still closed, lips parted—until he felt the absence and opened his eyes.

Hurt flickered across his face, subtle but unmistakable. His hands didn’t let go, but they loosened, unsure. Shifting back so he was no longer laid on top of you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, breathless. Touching your fingers to your swollen, sensitive lips. Feeling to make sure that had just happened, but also maybe a barrier to stop it from continuing, “I shouldn’t have…”

He shook his head, voice rough. “No. Don’t be. I shouldn’t have—”

“Let’s just not, okay?” You rested your hands against his chest, smiling softly to reassure him.

He didn’t press further. Just rested his forehead against yours.

“Okay,” he murmured.

He lay back, pulling you with him until your head rested on his chest. One arm stayed firm around you, hand rubbing slow circles against your spine.

You curled your fingers into the fabric of his shirt.

Neither of you spoke again.

Eventually, your breathing synced.

Tonight, you were just two people lost in the quiet, holding on to what comfort and warmth you could find while your friend was gone.

The morning came slow.

Sunlight leaked in through the blinds, painting thin golden lines across the sheets. The room was quiet—still wrapped in that rare hush that only came after long, heavy nights.

You stirred first.

For a second, you didn’t know where you were. A solid wall infront of you giving you no clues as your brain struggled to wake itself up. Then you felt the weight of his arm around your waist, the warmth of his chest against your back, the steady breath brushing the back of your neck.

Ghost.

Your heart kicked up again—but not with panic, not quite. It was a soft ache. Bittersweet.

You didn’t move.

Didn’t want to.

He was still asleep. You could tell by the way his fingers twitched now and then against your stomach, relaxed in a way he rarely let himself be. His face—half buried against your shoulder—was bare still. His mask lay abandoned somewhere on the floor, like it hadn’t mattered last night. He’d let you see him when the rest of the world couldn’t.

You didn’t know what this was. What it meant. But you knew what it had felt like.

You settled further into his arms, carefully threading your fingers through his resting in your stomach, bringing his hand up to the centre of your chest. Letting yourself enjoy it. Just for a little longer. You weren’t ready for the world outside this bed. Not yet.

But reality never waited long.

Ghost’s phone buzzed.

The sound was sharp—too loud in the stillness.

You felt him jolt slightly behind you, his breath catching. Then the arm around you tightened reflexively before pulling away altogether.

You watched him move in silence.

He rolled over, reached for his phone. Pulling you with him with his other arm, tucking you in firmly against his side. A short kiss pressed into your hairline, sweet, soft, a side of Simon you hadn’t experienced before but seemed so natural to him you wondered if this is what he would be like, waking up with him every morning, the thought felt dangerous.

Screen glow lit up his face. You saw the moment it happened—the second everything changed.

The message on the screen must’ve hit him like a shot to the chest.

“Johnny’s back,” he said, voice flat. Distant.

Your heart surged. Relief swept through you fast, hard—but it was eclipsed almost instantly by the shift in him.

“That’s good,” you managed, voice low. You sat up slowly, the sheet wrapped tight around your chest. “He okay?”

He sat up fast. Swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Started grabbing his things, pulling on his boots, his hoodie, reaching for the mask. “I assume so. Just got a general update. I’ll check on him.”

He didn’t look at you.

You ran your fingers through your hair, trying to shake the quiet, the stillness that had turned suffocating.

“So…” you tried, a bit too casually. “You heading straight over?”

“Yeah.”

Silence.

Nothing more.

“Simon—” you started.

He just kept moving like the night hadn’t happened. Like the warmth you’d shared was some illusion.

You sat up straighter, sheet clutched to your chest. “Ghost.”

That finally got a pause out of him.

Half-dressed, mask still in his hand, he stood at the foot of the bed, back still to you.

“I shouldn’t have come last night,” he said. Quiet. Measured.

You flinched like he’d hit you.

No mention of the way you’d kissed him. No acknowledgment of the way he’d held you like he might fall apart if he let go. No sign of the soft, raw version of Simon that had laid beside you in the dark.

You bit your lip. Swallowed hard.

He looked over his shoulder—just barely. His eyes were unreadable again, that wall going up inch by inch. The wall you thought he’d let you behind for a moment.

Then he turned away. Pulled the mask back on.

The man who’d kissed you like he was drowning was gone. Replaced with the Ghost the world always saw. Cold. Sharp. Untouchable.

He reached for the door and suddenly you couldn’t let him leave like this. You knew once he left you would never build the courage to ask him what this meant. Would never know.

“Wait,” you said, voice cracking. “So that’s it? We just…” You didn’t know how to finish the sentence and the weight of it hung heavy in the air.

He hesitated—hand on the doorknob. The silence stretched.

Then, finally, “I can’t.”

And he left.

The door clicked shut behind him.

Silence.

You sat there for a long time.

The room still smelled like him. The sheets still held the imprint of his body. But he was gone. You were alone.

Your throat burned.

You dragged the blanket off, beginning to recollect yourself—get ready to face the day, whatever state Soap had been found in.

And deep down, you weren’t sure which cut deeper—the fear of finding Johnny…or the certainty you’d already lost Simon.

You let the quiet crush you.

Next part here

206 notes · View notes

binniesbooks · 8 months ago

Text

• MIRROR, MIRROR ON THE WALL

SB 000 .F23 2024

wc 3.2k

pairings classrepresentative!Soobin x bulliedfem!reader

warnings humiliation, slight bully Soobin, bullied reader, fainting, facial, unprotected sex, creampie, mirror sex, recording, oral sex (m. receiving), squirting, name calling (+ if i missed anything)

faye's notes I'M TOTALLY CRAZY! Like seriously! I should stop writing fics out of impulse BAHAHAHAHA this is not proofread, I'm sorry, again, this story is just made impulsively 😭 Soobin should stop posting pictures out of nowhere. I need to write about him immediately because I'm his wife. 😋 No one should do it first before me 😋 I just love Soobin so much and his mirror shots! Fuck. Dead.

p.s. wrote this for more or less 4 hours, wtf

"Ahh! Fuck, why are you so f-fucking good!" Soobin threw his head back with one arm supporting his body and the other one holding his phone, trying to capture every moment.

"Look at you acting so modest at school, but here you are, giving someone head," he smirked, tugging a fistful of your hair, making you moan with his cock still inside your mouth.

"Shit!" He hissed through his teeth as he felt the pleasuring vibrations from your mouth.

Soobin is your most hated person in the world, if that's enough to explain. He makes fun of you. He causes you trouble, harm, and danger. But the fact that he's one of the most respected representatives of your class, you can't do anything but let your anger just boil inside you.

Choi Soobin is not your average type of classmate—enemy. He never fails to be included in the rank list—he's an intelligent and handsome man. He talks so well in front of the class, he gets high scores, he has the fame. You would actually have a crush on him if only he treated you the same way he treats the others.

And you hated your class for always laughing along with him and always tolerating what he does—well, he's actually a good student, you're just not on his "people that I will treat right" list.

"How are you miss 'teacher's pet'?" Soobin would subtly pull a chair to sit in front of your desk, often whispering these things.

"Soobin, please. If you have nothing else to say, move," you would firmly answer him.

"What? Aren't you proud that you know how to find your way under their pants?" he accused.

"I'm not doing any of the sort! I won't commit sexual activities with people other than my soon-to-be husband!" Your voice came out as a squeak as you tried to hold yourself back, but you're seething with anger.

"Oh, what are you doing anyway? Drawing your idols?" he snickers.

"Choi Soobin--"

"Yes, darling?" his eyes meeting yours with a smirk plastered on his lips. "You know what," he starts, casually tucking your straying hair behind your ear, "If I were you, I would stop doing that, they don't even know you."

You clicked your tongue, swatting his hand away, "Soobin, I swear—"

"Yes, yes, you swear," he snickers once again as he stands up, the sharp scraping sound of the steel chair making your ears hurt, gathering the class' attention. Soobin casually shrugged his shoulders, making your classmates continue what they were doing.

"Listen!" Soobin pounded the podium that afternoon for an announcement—oh yeah, he's the class representative.

"We will be having our annual outdoor activity next week."

With a heavy heart, you sighed. The 5-day trip is your most hated activity. You would go to a camp, pair up with your friends, and do the task together. Not to mention the unending seminars and trainings while you're at it.

Of course, a week won't pass by without Soobin getting into your nerves. You're so fed up with him and his petty attitude towards you, but you don't know it yourself, you just can't find the courage to fight back or at least stand up for yourself. You would always be left with your nails digging into your palms and a boiling blood.

"Okay guys! Line up! We're getting into the bus! I'm checking the attendance!" It's still so early in the morning and you get to hear his irritating voice again, which you resorted to wearing earphones to at least drown his voice.

However, you were the last one to get in inside the bus, so there are no more available seats to sit down aside from the two-seater in the front. And of course, one of the seats is already occupied. By who? Who else—the Choi Soobin himself.

"Excuse me, does anyone want to trade seats?" you bargained. Only for them to answer with "sorry, I want to sit with my friend" and such.

"As much as you don't want to sit beside me, I don't want to sit beside a whore and a slut like you," Soobin whispered with a fake smile when you sat beside him.

"Shut the fuck up. I'm not a whore nor a slut, I don't do explicit activities just like you," you seethed. "I bet you're the type that fucks anyone just to get your dick wet," you whispered, rolling your eyes. Soobin could only laugh at you.

You tried to focus on the road the whole ride. Doing your best to ignore Soobin's huge sleeping figure just beside you. Your eyes flitted to the rearview mirror of the bus, staring a hole at Soobin's head—to kill him—through the reflection. And yes, Soobin actually looks kind and peaceful when he sleeps. There, you silently wished for him to at least be a little less meaner.

You didn't know you fell asleep. You woke up inside the empty bus. You quickly marched out to look for your classmates. It looks like they are just starting to settle down. You scrambled your way towards the camp, pulling your suitcase. You're lucky one of your male classmates noticed you and had at least the decency to offer a hand.

When you arrived just by the door, you swear you heard Soobin murmur something behind you like 'look at our pick me girl' or something along the lines.

After the short orientation, you celebrated a little inside, knowing that the girls and the boys would not share the same room to sleep, at least. And you celebrated further when they announced that the ratio of the room to the student would be 1:1. Basically, you have the privacy you needed, and you don't need to be bothered about having a roommate.

You were asked to rest for now and just return to the hall in the afternoon to officially start the program. You giggled when you got inside the room. Quickly running to the bedroom and jumping on the bed.

But then you were startled when you heard laughter and loud voices.

Oh crap! The walls are thin!

But that's the least of your concerns; it's not like you would be noisy or something.

The afternoon came quickly, and the program kicked off without flaws. They announced the activities that should be done and the schedule for the meals, including the curfew hours. If you were to be asked? Your answer would be, so far, so good.

The dinner was also held in the same hall. The organizers did a good job of making use of the tables and chairs in the hall as your dining table and training table.

However, your little happy moment was immediately cut off when Soobin purposely grazed one of the students elbows, making the cold water she was holding be poured over you. Loud gasps from the crowd echoed inside the hall as strings of apology came out of the student's mouth. Your eyes flickered throughout the wide space as you muttered, "It's okay," to the student. Your eyes found Soobin walking away from the scene.

You quickly finished your meal after patting your drenched shirt with a tissue the student offered. After finishing your meal, you have no other choice but to go straight to your room.

You prayed that tomorrow would be a fine day for you.

Tuesday. Second day of the outdoor activity.

You were grouped into pairs. The organizers taught you about first aid. Orienting you about the things you should and shouldn't do in case of emergency. You and your partner executed every step well. It does show that you have learned everything.

Soobin also did well in their execution. But you noticed about his 'unnecessary' touches to his girl partner. Well, he actually isn't doing anything unnecessary. You're just too overprotective of your body.

Soobin watched you being mortified with his simple quirks, laughing to himself, judging you and your mind.

Wednesday.

You were grouped into five members. Your next activity was the obstacle course. The sole reason for this is to train your mind to think quickly for a technique that would work and allow you to lead.

Some of the groups even failed from the start. They couldn't decide which would be the leader.

On the other hand, Soobin was leading his group at ease. He looks like he knows it, just like the back of his hand. Too familiar with what a leader should do.

Thursday.

It suddenly rained, so your activity that was supposed to be held on the mountain was postponed and was moved for the next day. Which made your stay eventually longer for another day. The organizers resorted to an indoor activity. Or you could actually call this free time. They allowed everyone to have fun. Everyone was having a blast on their own or with their friends.

You decided to take a short walk while the rain poured hard. You passed by a vending machine and grabbed yourself a drink—which might be wrong because you're too far from the hall now and there's no restroom to be found.

Your eyes widened when you saw a room, which you guessed was a toilet. But when you opened the door, someone was inside.

"What the fuck?! Don't you know how to knock?!"

"Aaahhhh! Don't you know how to lock?!" you retorted as you froze in your feet and turned your back to the person inside the toiled.

"Fucking goodness! What the hell are you doing here?!" he zipped his pants up before he turned to you—again, it was Soobin.

"I-i'm looking for a restroom! You should know how to lock the door!" You squealed.

You heard him scoffed, "The lock doesn't work, and..."

"And?" you questioned, folding your arms in front of you, feigning frustration—but you couldn't hide the fact that your ears were so red.

"This restroom is not for the girls, weirdo." His lips played a mocking smile. "You're not beating the whore allegations, are you?" He stepped forward, trapping you on the wall, his hand flew to your waist, pinning you.

You tried to push him away, "Get your filthy hands off—H-hah!"

Your body trembled, and your knees became wobbly when he pressed his hand against your lower abdomen.

"S-soobin... Your... Your hand..." You tried to pry his hand away, but to no avail. Soobin just pressed it further, making the hair of your body stand up.

"S-soobin... Please... Y-your h-hand," you stuttered. You felt a few drops of the hot liquid flow out from you.

Soobin pulled his hand away, leaving you slumped on the floor, shaking. "You're so easy," he chuckled before he left.

You didn't almost make it to the toilet. The moment you let it out, you felt tears run down your cheeks. Maybe because of humiliation, or anger, or arou—there's no way!

That night, you chose not to eat dinner, you stayed inside your room. However, someone knocked on your door. You didn't want to open it at first, but the person behind kept on knocking. When you opened the door, there's no person in the hallway. But a food was left beside your door. Your name was written on the water bottle and the packaging of the meal, just like the other meals you ate the past few days. You decided to eat it, not bothering to think whether it's poisoned or whatever.

Friday. The supposed to be last day of the outdoor activity.

It was a team activity again. The survival. Your team must survive for at least one day in the mountains. You were supposed to look for foods in the wild, to survive a day or night in the mountains. The team is composed of four members. And lucky you, you were teamed up with Soobin.

You tried your best to be as distant as possible. Just looking at him makes you remember everything that happened last night.

Everything was going well from the start. Three of you were girls, and you all agreed that Soobin would be the leader of the group.

You made a small port for the four of you to rest, you found fruits that can be eaten, and you gathered the woods for the fire you were supposed to make later.

However, Soobin wasn't expecting something like this to happen—for you to faint out of exhaustion. You are actually weak-hearted, which makes you easily dizzy and tired when doing extra workloads.

"Soobin! Y/n fainted!"

"What?!" Soobin quickly ran towards the three of you. The other girls are panicking about you. "Fuck!" he muttered as he tried to wake you up. "Y/n wake up!"

"This won't do! You guys continue our task; I'll bring her to the camp. Please take care of yourselves up here, okay?"

Soobin carried you on his back, walking and running down the mountain as fast as he could. He was assisted by the organizers, but the program wasn't perfect at all! There are no nurses around.

So Soobin got no choice but to bring you to his assigned room and take care of you instead—class representative duties, right?

"God fucking damn it!" he huffed as he laid you down on the floor, and he was chasing his breath.

He washed himself first, cleaning out the dirt that clung to his body. Then he grabbed some of his extra clean shirts for you to change into. He wiped you clean with a wet towel and wanted to change your clothes, but he decided not to do it or you would make a fuss. Then he carefully laid you down on his bed, keeping you warm.

One of the teachers knocked and checked on him. He was also told that the activity was cancelled and they made the students go back. The teacher was relieved to know that you were fine and that you're resting.

You woke up with him sitting beside you. "W-where are we? What happened?" you weakly asked.

"You're finally awake," he sighed. "You fainted."

He then passed you a packet of sugar and some water. "Drink this, I have nothing else to offer."

After a few minutes, you felt yourself recover a bit. It wasn't that bad, you're just too exhausted.

"Let's go back," you said as you rose from the bed and walked towards the door.

"Look at this attention seeker," he scoffed.

"What the fuck are you saying again?! I just fainted!" you yelled back.

"That's right! You just fainted, and you want to go back in the mountains? For what? For our classmates to carry you and let them touch your body? Or for the teachers to give you extra credits for being a 'good girl'?" Soobin's brow furrowed as he raised his voice.

"What did you say?" You walked closer to him.

"That you're a slut, a whore, and an attention seeker. Simple as that."

Soobin smirked as he watched you dug your nails onto your palm again.

"What? Am I wrong?"

Tears were threatening to fall from your eyes as you looked up to him with gritted teeth.

"You're... You're totally wrong..." you sniffled.

"Then show me you aren't like that," he says.

"W-what?"

Soobin sat on the bed as he watched you. "Get on your knees for me," he smirked. "Show me you are not a teacher's fuck toy."

"Prove it, so I won't tell the class you soiled your pants last night," he finishes.

You didn't know what came over you. You just found yourself kneeled down between his legs as you tried your hardest to suck him.

Ahh! Fuck, why are you so f-fucking good!" Soobin threw his head back with one arm supporting his body and the other one holding his phone, trying to capture every moment.

"Look at you acting so modest at school, but here you are, giving someone head," he smirked, tugging a fistful of your hair, making you moan with his cock still inside your mouth.

"Shit!" He hissed through his teeth as he felt the pleasuring vibrations from your mouth.

You pulled away. "S-stop recording," you muttered.

"No, this is for the records. A proof that you aren't a teacher's pet," he grinned before guiding your head back to his cock.

"You're such a whore," he snickers as he zooms in to your face. "Fucking good, with this pretty face," he muttered.

He shoved your face down, practically fucking your throat, not giving a fuck at how you gagged. Then he pulled you away as he shot his cum on your face.

"Ohh fuck! Fuck! Ahh!" His body trembled as he finally came, his phone shaking in the process.

Pressing the stop button, he tossed his phone on the bed and pulled you up on his lap, crashing his lips against yours as his hand wandered on your body, groping and squeezing any part.

"Need to be inside you, you slut," he whispered between the kisses.

"'m n-not," you whimpered. His hand finally settled on your waist, and he grinds you above him.

"Look how hard you make me," he said, his teeth grazing your neck.

"S-soobin... Stop... W-we shouldn't be doing—ahh...mpph.." Your soft moans and whines are music to his ear.

"Shhh, be quiet for me, okay?" he said, giving your chin a kiss. He slips his hand under your skirt, pushing your underwear to the side.

"See? You're a total whore, y/n. You're wet."

Too embarrassed, you hide on his neck, hugging him closer. He easily lifted your hips and slid himself inside you with so much ease as you whimpered on his ear.

"T-this is w-wrong.. Ahh.. please..."

"Wrong?" he questioned, tilting your face to look behind you, only to be met with your own eyes. Soobin manhandled you with ease and turned you around instead. Your back flushed against his chest as he spread and held your legs up.

"Watch how your hungry pussy suck my cock," he whispered to your ear as the both of you watched yourselves in the mirror. Your ears turned red out of embarrassment as you bit your lower lip, restraining yourself to moan.

"Be quiet, okay? The others are back," he said, kissing your ear. Your hands clasped over your mouth, the squelching sound was the only thing to be heard.

"I love how dirty you are, fuck, you turn me on so much," he grunts, hitting deeper places inside you.

"B-bin..." you whined, tears rolling down your cheek.

"S-something's g-gonna.... Ahhh... S-soobin, please..."

"You're close, doll? Cum on my cock, then," he smirks.

"N-no wait! Wait!" you squirmed, trying to get off of him, but he's too strong for you.

"S-soobin please w-wait---" Clear liquid gushed out of your pussy in a squirting manner because of his cock still deep inside you. Your body started twitching when he continued to fuck you relentlessly.

"Gonna fill you. 'M gonna fill you to the brim, fuck you're so fucking tight!" Soobin hides behind your neck as he finishes inside you, his grip on your thighs tightened.

"B-bin... I feel like... 'm gonna... F-faint..." Your body was slumped on his chest. He slowly pulls out of you, a glob of his cum coming out from your spent folds. He then laid you down on his bed again and lays beside you as he tucked the both of you to bed.

The problem for tomorrow is for tomorrow. He's now on cloud nine, feeling so good as he lays beside his favorite girl crush.

@binniesbooks 2024

#faye's library #soobin's books #soobin x reader #soobin x you #soobin smut #choi soobin x reader #choi soobin x you #choi soobin smut #soobin imagines #soobin scenarios #choi soobin scenarios #choi soobin imagines #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt imagines #txt scenarios

780 notes · View notes

buckybabybaby · 1 month ago

Text

first and last

A/N: first fic in nearly 4 years! <3 I said I wanted to write something for Joaquín when tfatws first aired - better late than never I guess.

I just love him so much, my comfort character since 2021 but even more so since bnw <3 hope you enjoy!!

Pairing: Joaquín Torres x reader (gender neutral)

Plot: (slight spoilers for bnw) You rush to Joaquín's bedside after his accident.

(friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, fluff, mutual pining, love confession, one shot)

Warnings: angst, injured characters

Word count: 3.3k

Masterlist

AO3

***

The phone call you received informing you of Joaquín's accident feels like a lifetime ago, when in reality its only been a few days. You were half way though a trip to Spain, enjoying the early evening sunshine in a park in Barcelona, when your phone lit up.

Immediately you knew it wasn't good news.

Sam didn't call, or at least he didn't call you, and you were aware he and Joaquín were deep in a mission following the assassination attempt, so you were almost prepared for what he was about to say.

The moment you heard Joaquín was alive, but critical, you rushed to come back home. It was torture waiting several hours for a direct flight instead of a couple of connecting ones that would have got you back earlier, but in the end you're glad you took Sam's advice. You can't imagine trying to navigate unfamiliar airports to make your layover in the state you were in, impatient and so sick with worry the in-flight meals remained untouched.

The rest of the journey was a blur, security was thankfully quiet and then Sam was meeting you at the taxi rank, hugging you tight and letting you know the surgery went well and Joaquín was going to live.

That was the point you let yourself break. Ugly crying into Captain America's hoodie, the numbness that kept you composed enough to travel back across the Atlantic wearing off, replaced by the need to confirm that statement.

You needed to see he was still here.

You pulled out of his embrace and tried to compose yourself. Sam scanned you up and down, noting your unkempt appearance, more than is usual after a long haul flight, his expression softening.

'Do you want to go home and change before-"

You interrupted quickly. "No, I need, need to," you gasped, wiping your eyes with your sleeve. "I just need to see him."

"He's still in and out after the general anaesthetic, not exactly his usual talkative self."

"That's okay, please." You sounded so desperate Sam couldn't say no.

"All right." He grabbed your suitcase and lead the way to his car. "Visiting hours are over but I can get you in."

***

The first sight of Joaquín at the hospital has you turning away to gather yourself. Thankfully like Sam said he might be he is asleep, as the last thing you want is to add to his woes by reacting so negatively to his appearance.

The hospital bed makes him look so small, and with his hair flatter than you know he likes it and his skin drained of colour, if the doctors hadn't said they were sure he'd recover you'd be preparing to say goodbye. He looks so vulnerable like this.

Over the next hours you sit and watch, counting his breaths, reassuring yourself he's here and in one slightly battered piece. Healthcare workers and other visitors come and go, notably James Barnes who you've not met before and fear you make a poor first impression to.

Sam also stops by, persuading you to eat and then take a shower in the private bathroom. He has had your laundry from your holiday washed and folded back into your suitcase, as if you're about to go away and not just returned in a rush. Freshening up and sliding into a clean tracksuit set, you feel as though you've washed half the worry away too and can be here for your friend with a clearer mind.

Thanking Sam, he let's you be and you take your place back at Joaquín's bedside.

As you wait for the effects of the anaesthetic to wear off, you allow your mind to wander. Joaquín's been in a fair few accidents over the years, it comes with the territory, deep cuts and nasty grazes you've helped him clean and dress on many occasions. It always made your chest feel tight with worry, but this time is different.

This time you really could have lost him.

Joaquín was the transfer student you'd befriended on his first day at your high school. He had looked so lost, with his backpack nearly as big as he was and clutching a map you knew from experience was out of date, that you just had to rescue him. Happily he was in the same class as you for the first period, and you've been stuck together ever since.

You soon learnt he wasn't as shy as he seemed that first day. In fact it was hard to shut him up. Being the 'quiet kid' yourself it was a shock to suddenly be thrown out of the library for being disruptive, or get your first ever detention after he persuaded you to skip class to go watch aeroplanes land at the local airport. He always made up for it though, helping you study even if you had to find an empty classroom whilst the library still had you barred, keeping his grades high and in line with yours so you'd always give in and agree to his next crazy idea.

You and Joaquín compliment each other well. He brings you out of your shell, while you help to keep him grounded, through out school and his military service, and especially now in this new world of super heroes he's entered.

Somewhere along that timeline you fell in love with him. It was hard when you were younger, to see people fight to get close to him, the very definition of life of the party and so so pretty to go along with it. And now? He's a real life hero who has the pick of anyone he wants. You've always just been on the sidelines, cheering him on even as your heart breaks.

There were times you let yourself hope you could be more than that, quiet moments when he sought you out first once he'd finished a mission. He didn't always talk about what happened and you knew when it was best not to push, but he seemed to find comfort just being with you and you were happy to have that effect.

You just wished you could be his home forever.

You reach out to grab his limp hand, overwhelmed with your feelings suddenly. Sam had said he called you and only you after Joaquín's immediate family, you were important enough to him to be included in his emergency contacts and the only one of his friends allowed here even though he has plenty. Surely it meant something?

The beeping machine monitoring his heart reminds you how badly this could have gone, how he could be in a completely different part of the hospital now instead of this private recovery suite. Tears fill your eyes at the thought. He could be gone and you would have never got the chance to say how you feel, to see if it could be reciprocated, to take that next step together.

But the beeping also shows you have a chance; It is not too late and maybe this is the push you need.

You're so lost in your thoughts it takes a long moment to notice he's stirring, frowning as the pain hits him. You release his hand but stay close, allowing him to notice you in his own time.

Joaquín's eyes flutter open, he shifts his head in your direction and, it takes a few seconds, but then his face lights up, as much as it can when he's still waking up.

"You're here!"

"Course I am." Where else would you be? "How-how do you feel?"

You try to seem bright but the way your voice breaks betrays your emotions. You thought you were all cried out, but seeing him alert and hearing him talk is enough to set you off again.

Fresh tears fall down your face as he looks at you with pity, like you're the injured one needing looking after. He raises his hand you were holding before, a silent invitation you take to come closer, sitting back down and pulling the chair flush to the edge of his bed.

"My pretty cariño, I'm not worth your tears."

That makes you cry more. His face drops and instead of trying to talk you around he just pulls your head gently against the side of his chest without any bandages, draping his arm over your shoulder and holding you close, understanding you just need to be quiet and listen to his heartbeat for a while. Resting your joined hands against his thigh, you allow his tight grip and solid, sleep warm body to reassure you he's going to be okay.

Eventually you trust yourself to speak again.

"Do you want some water?"

He nods and you help him take a few careful sips from the cup on his bedside. As you refill it from the jug and rearrange his gift basket of fruits and chocolates, he takes in the towering mountain of presents.

"Hey, flowers! And cards. Damn, someone's popular," he jokes.

You smile for the first time in a while, moving one card closer to him. "This is the reason I can never accompany you anywhere James Barnes may be ever again."

He reads the inside and pulls a face in confusion so you explain.

"He came to visit earlier, before lunch. Would have waited to talk to you but he had some campaigning thing to get to. I was hoping you'd wake so I wasn't alone but you always say he's quite chill once you get him talking, so I thought I'd be cool, like I am with Sam, right?”

You don't wait for him to contradict you, both knowing you were decidedly not cool the first time you met Sam.

"I really thought it'd be okay but, oh my gosh Joaquín, I made such a fool of myself."

He laughs fondly. "I'm sure it wasn't that bad."

"It was," You whine. "'Cos he was so pretty and tall and worried about me as well as you, as apparently Sam and you talk about me enough that he knew who I was without me introducing myself. That threw me off to start and I just got more and more flustered. I even curtsied!"

Your cheeks are burning at the memory, but its worth it to entertain Joaquín.

"Wish I'd seen that," He smirks, then winces as the movement pulls at a cut on his lip. He presses his tongue to the area to test it and its your turn to wince. Years of patching him up has also lead to years of reminding him not to make the injury worse and fretting over him when he inevitably does, too impatient to let himself heal fully, dozens of tiny scars testament to his restlessness.

You rise from your chair and move to the corner where your suitcase lays open, searching through it for your toiletry bag.

Joaquín clearly misinterprets your actions.

"Hey I'm sorry," He calls after you, voice weak. "Bucky really is chill, he won't judge."

He tries to raise up from the pillows more, grimacing at the pain putting weight on the arm on his injured side causes. Hurrying back to his bed, you help him sit comfortably again before you reveal the reason you abandoned him for a whole three seconds.

"Relax," You stay sternly. "I was just getting this."

Breaking the hygiene seal on your new lip balm, you open it and tilt his head so you can apply it easily.

"I bought this in Spain, it is the same brand you always use but a Spanish version with olive oil. You know how many I have, don't exactly need another one, so this one is yours now. If you think it's anything special I'm sure I can find it online."

Pressing the balm to his mouth, you run it over his lips a few times, careful with the sore area but making sure it gets covered sufficiently, hoping it lives up to the hype the advertising sold you on.

"Spain?" He asks when you are done. "Oh." He swears quietly, shaking his head, "Spain, your holiday. Were you home before I was brought here?"

You stay silent and that's answer enough.

"Sweetheart, please say you didn't come back early for me?"

"Of course I did."

He looks conflicted. Whenever you dropped everything for him he always looked the same, like he couldn't quite believe you cared so much. It was a doubt you were always trying to prove wrong, you want him to know you'll always be there for him, wherever and whenever.

"If it was me, here, like this, would you have continued visiting museums and eating churros like nothing was wrong?" You question.

"Well, no. But that is different."

"How is it different?"

"Because I'm in love with you."

His statement is so plain and simple, like it's a known fact. You're frozen in place, staring at him, analysing his expression and trying to determine if this is some sort of joke. He doesn't look like he's joking.

Joaquín sighs, taking the lip balm out of your shock-weakened grip and recapping it.

"Can you sit down please?" He asks. "And let me just say something, something that I should have said years ago. If its not welcome and you don't feel the same way, we can just chalk it up to me being off my head on painkillers, yeah? I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Dropping back ungracefully into your chair, you swallow, his intense gaze unfamiliar.

Joaquín turns towards you as much as he can, taking one of your hands in both of his and bringing it to his mouth to press a soft kiss to your finger tips, mindful of his graze.

You can't quite catch your breath as he starts speaking.

"My beautiful, beautiful best friend. You're my first and last thought, always. Before I blacked out, I thought about how I should have told you how I feel and now I'd never get the chance. And then, I woke up and my first thought was how I've got a second chance to try. To see if there's something here."

He pauses, squinting at you to gauge your reaction. "Is that an insane thing to say? If it is, like I said, blame the morphine"

You try to think of a reply but come up blank. Joaquín takes your silence as permission to continue.

"I'm not the best with words, more of an action man, you know that, so I'll finish with this. I love you. I've been in love with you for years. And if it takes nearly dying-" You whimper at his wording, "-to finally find the courage to confess then so be it."

Crying is your go-to response at the moment and now is no different. Pulling away from his hold, you grab a tissue from the box beside his bed and try in vain to dry your eyes. Joaquín makes a noise in sympathy, taking the tissue himself as he cups your face and makes you look at him directly.

"Are these happy tears? Or do I need to pretend my wound reopened and get a resus team in here to forget the whole thing?"

You recoil in horror at the thought. "D-don't even say that!"

"Okay, maybe not that extreme. But something like that?" He guides you closer, apparently suddenly able to read you like a book and know that no such measure to ignore his confession is necessary. "Or, can I kiss you finally?"

This close you can count his lashes, his dark eyes catching the muted sunlight filtering through the curtains, so beautiful and so full of life.

You give him a shaky smile. "I think the second one."

He nods, bringing his forehead to rest against yours. "Second one it is," He murmurs before his mouth meets yours.

Its not much more than a press of lips together, delicate as to not cause more irritation to his wound, but to you it's perfect. Even with your cheeks damp with tears, even with him not able to reach far from his hospital bed and you having to support some of his weight when he tries to get closer, its still better than you could have imagined.

Not wanting to tire him too much, you pull away, pressing a delicate kiss to the corner of his mouth when he whines in protest.

You go to sit back in the seat but Joaquín does not like that idea, shuffling carefully to one side of the bed and persuading you to climb on next to him. Gingerly adjusting yourself, you let him fuss the blanket across your lap too as you make sure his lines stay attached and untangled.

His head drops to your shoulder when you are settled. "Damn. I'm out of breath and I didn't even kiss you properly."

Patting his hair in sympathy, you let your fingers thread into his curls and massage his scalp gently. "You had major, heart restarting surgery only a day ago," You remind him. "Give yourself time."

It's cosy like this, pressed against each other, the silence comfortable until you realise you haven't confessed yourself.

"I love you too, by the way," You whisper. Joaquín lifts his head again so he can catch your eye as you continue. "I was sat here thinking almost the same thing as you, about letting you know how I feel. You beat me to it." His smug little chuckle has you poking his good side very gently, before adding, "I don't remember the exact moment I started, but I promise I won't stop loving you any time soon."

"That's reassuring." He settles back against the headboard, bringing you with him. "I appreciate that."

You giggle, your hand sliding back into his hair, detangling parts that have become knotted and making him hiss at one point when you accidentally press on a bruise.

"I'm sorry!" You could cry again. "Was that from the accident?"

"Probably. Wouldn't it be nice if that was the only damage I sustained?"

It would, you agree silently. He notices you becoming upset again and rushes to comfort you.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm still here," He says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "And you have to remember, I looked so good before I fell! Me and Sam, working as a team, like-" He waves his hands around, mimicking two people flying in sync and making appropriate noises to set the scene.

It's so nice to laugh at his enthusiasm again. You hope he never loses it, hope it never becomes routine or too much for him to cope with.

"I'll see if I can get some footage. The bit before, you know."

"I don't think I even want to see that." He pouts and you melt at how cute he looks, finding a way to satisfy him. "I don't want to see it because I know how it ends. But I will come watch you train. You can show me your new moves, if you want?"

"Really?" His grin pulls at his cut lip again but he doesn't seem to notice. "You'd really come watch?"

There was always something getting in the way of you watching before, mostly you not wanting to intrude, and still being slightly wary of anything avengers related. But if he looked at you like he is now? You'd agree to go watch just about anything.

"Really really."

Satisfied with your promise, Joaquín sinks back into his pillows, the adrenaline from his confession wearing off and sleep drawing him back under once more. You let him curl against you, holding his hand again when he reaches for it, promising to still be here when he wakes again.

You watch his features relax, this time with a small smile on your face, no tears in sight.

He's still here.

Warm.

Safe.

Yours.

***

Masterlist

***

Thank you for reading! <3

#joaquin torres x reader #joaquín torres #joaquin torres x you #joaquin torres fanfiction #buckybabybaby

309 notes · View notes

meganwritesfanfics · 22 days ago

Text

How to Save a Life (Dr. Jack Abbott x Reader) Part 1

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Word Count: 1613

TRIGGER WARNING: Discussion of firearms, women being threatened.

I altered the show's timeline slightly to make my story work. I will continue to post parts, if you would like to be included in the tag list, comment down below.

“Resuscitation efforts discontinued at 14:51,” Robby said and she felt like see had been been punched in chest. Kid loses always hit everyone hard. Especially a drowning. Y/N’s eyes locked with Robby’s as the mother of the lost girl screamed with grief. She just shook her head as she bolted from the room, not wanting anyone to see her tears. She always felt like so weak when she lost it after losing a patient. She had been a doctor for 10 years, it should affect her as much anymore. But the hard cases always got to her.

“Caring does not make you weak,” She could hear her husbands voice in her head say as she reached for the necklace he gave her. “It makes you a better doctor.”

She stumbled out to the ambulance bay, taking a deep breath. The cool air filled her lungs and she felt like she could breathe. She wiped some tears away as she pulled out her phone, pulling up Jack’s contact. She knew he would be waking up soon if he wasn’t already. They had a tradition of texting one another if something happened at work that upset them. Sometimes it was easier for Jack to write down his feelings than it was to speak them out loud. Y/N appreciated him sharing in whatever form made him feel the most comfortable. And Y/N always knew the best things to say to make him feel better.

“Just had a really rough case. Lost them. Just wanted to remind you that I love you more than anything in this world, and you make me incredibly happy.”

“You have time for a call Doctor?” A text shot back and Y/N smiled as she hit call.

“What are you doing up?” She laughed.

“Ugh, you know I can’t sleep without you next to me.” Jack said groggily. “What’s going on Doll.”

“It was a six year old kid, Jack. Drowned.” Y/N said her emotions coming to the surface again. “She was trying to save her little sister.”

Jack remained silent just listening as Y/N explained everything they tried to do to save the girl. “Oh darling, I’m so sorry”

“I just kept thinking, what if it was our baby lying on that table.” Her hand instinctively hovered over her stomach. Neither of them had told anyone yet, but Y/N was about 8 weeks pregnant.

“Y/N, you can’t think like that. If you connect every lost kid to our baby, you are going to go insane.”

“I know. It’s just hard.” Y/N sighed.

“Well, just think, in a few more hours, you will be home with me, I will make us dinner, and then we can do whatever you want to take your mind off the day.”

“Oh anything I want Doctor Abbott that sounds like you have something dirty in mind.” Suddenly Y/N felt something heavy and blunt against the base of her skull.

In one ear she could hear Jack talking about all the things he wanted to do with her. In the other ear, she heard someone whisper.

“Hang up the fucking phone. Now.”

“Jack, honey, I have to go. I love you so fucking much.” She said and she quickly hung up, just as she heard Jack call her name questioningly.

As soon as the phone was hung up and put in her pocket, Y/N felt an arm wrap around her chest pulled her roughly back as the barrel of a gun was placed against her temple.

“Inside. Now.” The voice snapped as he started to drag her inside.

Her mind was a blur as they came in through ambulance bay doors. She immediately saw the look of horror on everyones face as they came in.

“Listen here!” The voice screamed. “I want to be treated fairly, I want to be seen by a doctor!”

Y/N saw Robby come into main area and his eye went wide.

“I need everyone to calm down.” Robby said with as much composer as he could, but in his head he was full on panicked. “Sir, I need you to let my resident go.”

“No. Not until I am fucking seen. I have been waiting for hours and no one has seen me yet. It’s not fair. So I am going to get someone to help me, or so help me God I won’t hesitate to shoot her.”

Ahmad took a step forward but the minute he did, the man cocked the gun and Y/N flinched.

“Don’t you fucking move, you piece of shit, I’m not joking I will kill her. I need you all to take me seriously!”

“Mr. Driscoll, we are taking you very seriously…” Robby said hands up his eyes looking over at Y/N’s scared form, trying to figure out some way to get her out of this.

“Well then who is going to treat me!” Doug screamed as he swung the gun out at the rest of the group causing everyone to duck for cover.

“I will!” Y/N screamed. “I will treat you! Just don’t point the gun at anyone else, just at me got it.” She negotiated and she could feel her phone buzzing in her pocket. Jack. Her heart broke, she hoped that by seeing this patient she could deescilate the situation. But she also knew that if he was going to these extremes, there was a higher than likely chance this could end in violence.

“Y/N.” Robby said shaking his head.

“Listen Mr. Driscoll. I have been a doctor for 10 years. I am confident that I can get you the care you deserve.”

“Finally, that’s all I’m asking. Was that so fucking hard!” Driscoll screamed. “Now,” He said as he started to drag her toward the empty room he could see. “If I so much as see a cop, things won’t end well for…” He leaned over to read her badge. “Dr. Abbott here. Is that clear?”

“Mr. Driscoll, this is…” Robby started again but Driscoll quickly moved the gun to under Y/N’s chin shoving her face up so she was looking at the ceiling.

“I said is that fucking clear!” He screamed and Y/N could feel a tear roll down her cheek.

“Crystal.” Robby snapped a look of pure rage in his eyes.

Everyone watched in silence as Doug Driscoll dragged Y/N into one of the exam rooms and shut both doors.

“Robby.” Dana said panicked.

“We need to start moving all the other patients elsewhere for their safety. Also we need to…” He started but he could feel his phone vibrating in his pocket.

He pulled it out to see he had multiple missed texts and calls from Jack.

“What’s going on with Y/N. She sounded weird when she hung up the phone.”

“Robby, I’m worried about Y/N.”

“Can you just let me know if she is tied up right now. She’s not answering me and I just want to make sure she is ok.”

Robby sighed. He didn’t want to make this phone call, and he knew what the outcome would be, but he knew Jack deserved to know.

“Is that Jack?” Dana asked.

“Yeah.”

“You want me to call him.”

“No, I got this, go try to calm down the newbies. And let’s get everyone moving.” He sighed as he pulled out his phone, his eyes still fixed on the room Y/N was in.

“Robby, brother, thanks for calling, Y/N sounded really weird on the phone and I swear to God I heard another voice in the background I know it’s probably silly, but I got this gut feeling…” Abbott started.

“Jack.” Robby cut him off and Jack instantly went silent.

“What’s wrong?” Jack said fear filling him instantly.

“There has been an incidence. A disgruntled patient and he…” Robby hesitated.

“Is she ok?” Jack asked and Robby could hear the sound of rustling as he was sure Jack was starting to rush out the door.

“She’s ok, but the patient brought in a gun. He currently is holding her hostage in one of the exam rooms.”

“Fuck!” Jack screamed and Robby heard the sound of Jack’s truck peeling out of the driveway.

“Jack if you are coming here I need you to remain calm and level headed ok. That’s the only way we are going to get Y/N out ok.”

“I’m not going to remain calm! He’s got my girl Robby. And she…” Jack hesitated his voice catching in his throat. “Have you called the cops?”

“Not yet, I need to get all the other patients somewhere safe, and I need to talk to Gloria. And he threatened to kill Y/N if he saw any cops.”

“I’m on my way, please don’t call the cops until I get there. I’m only about 5 minutes out.”

“Jack you live 15 minutes away how the fuck are you already…”

“I really don’t give a shit about speed limits right now.” Jack screamed before he let out a loud sigh. “Micheal, I can’t lose her.”

“Don’t think like that ok, we are no where near that point. This guy is just pissed off but I think once he gets what he needs I think he will be gone.” Robby tried to reassure.

“She’s pregnant, we haven’t told anyone yet because it is still super early.” Jack said and Robby could hear him breaking.

“Jack, I am going to do everything in my power to make sure she is safe.” Micheal insisted. But he couldn’t help but feel that this situation was not going to end well.

#dr jack abbot #dr abbot x reader #the pitt hbo #angst #jack abbott x reader

193 notes · View notes

ariestrxsh · 9 months ago

Text

brattamer!matt x brat!reader

🥀 content warning: smut, sneaking around, degradation, oral(f!receiving), rough unprotected sex, hair pulling, getting caught, enemies to lovers

🥀 summary: despite him being your worst enemy, you and matt can't keep your hands off each other, and you get even riskier in your sexual encounters

dividers by @/cyberangel-graphics

Hatef--k

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

[ back to Hatef--k masterlist ] ↖

"You're even crazier than I thought if you think I'm sleeping on the couch," Matt sneered at me while we stood beneath the warm water. "It's not like you're going to be sleeping there the whole night. Just for the first little bit until we can both sneak into your room," I loudly whispered, rinsing the conditioner out of my hair. Matt rolled his eyes, but he didn't fight me on it. I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower and onto the fuzzy bath mat.

My heart dropped when I realized not only my clothes were on the tile floor of the bathroom, but so were Matt's. I turned to him with a stunned look and whispered through my teeth, "Nick knows." Matt looked at me confused, "what are you talking about?" I pointed at his bunched up clothes thrown haphazardly into a disheveled pile near the door. There's no way Nick didn't see them when he poked his head into the bathroom earlier, and he was certaintly smart enough to connect the dots.

"A pile of clothes doesn't mean shit. It could have been from earlier," Matt suggested, shrugging his shoulders and wrapping a towel around his waist. "Yeah, but you didn't shower earlier. You showered with me, and now your wet hair is going to give us away, too," I groaned, admiring the way the little droplets on Matt's chest slowly rolled down his stomach, trying to think on my feet but getting distracted by how hot he was. "Clothing on the floor is not a dead giveaway for anything. No one knows until they catch us in the act. If anyone asks you, deny, deny, deny. Until then, you assume they know nothing," Matt responded in a hushed voice.

I dried myself off and got dressed, making sure to gather my towel, my clothes, and most importantly, my vibrator. I peeked out of the bathroom door, looking both ways before glancing back at Matt and whispering, "The coast is clear." The two of us tiptoed down the hallway, and Matt snuck back into his room before anyone saw while I realized I'd left my bag in Nick's room. Shit.

I was nervous to face him in case he asked me a question I couldn't answer or was going to try to get me to admit what Matt and I had been doing. I knocked on Nick's door, hiding my vibrator under the towel I was holding. When Nick opened the door, he already knew what I was there for, "hey, need your tote bag?" He inquired. "Yes, please," I grinned at him as he let me into his room to grab it. "I can take your towel and clothes and put them -" Nick began to say, reaching out for the mess of fabric in my arms. "No!" I cut him off. "Thank you, Nick. But you've already done so much for me. I can take these to the laundry room myself." Nick shot me a look like he knew that I was being weird.

"Is there something you want to tell me?" Nick asked, staring inquisitively at me as if he could read the answers on my face. "About what?" I asked, playing dumb and avoiding eye contact. I was used to playing dumb to get boys' attention, but this was the first time I'd played dumb to try to get the attention off of me, and for some reason, it was way harder. "You're acting weird," Nick commented. "Well, everything's fine. Thanks for asking," I told him, grabbing my bag, carrying my heap of clothes, and concealing my vibrator underneath the fabric while I made my way into Matt's room.

A couple of hours later, Nick and Chris had both fallen asleep in their rooms, and I decided to text Matt, who was downstairs on the couch. "Please come up here. I need you more than anything right now," I typed out and hit send.

A few minutes later, Matt quietly came into the room, closing the door silently so no one would hear the door latch. "Needy little whore. Need me again, huh?" He whispered, shooting me a devious smile. I nodded and chewed on my lower lip. Matt pulled back the blanket that covered me and looked at me hungrily as he examined my naked body that lay vulnerable in front of him. "Get on your hands and knees. Now," Matt demanded. "Make me," I told him, not moving a muscle. He brutishly grabbed me by my waist and flipped me over in one fell swoop.

Before I knew it, I was on my stomach with my face buried in a pillow, and Matt's skillful hands were tightly grabbing either side of my hips. "Put your ass in the air, and if you don't listen to me, I won't let you cum tonight." Fuck. Matt knew how to get me to do what he wanted. I reluctantly obeyed him, surrendering all power to him, considering he had my orgasm-to-be in the palm of his hand and could crush my dreams at any moment he decided to pull away and leave me to my own devices.

All of a sudden, I felt his hands on my bottom and his soft, wet mouth as he began to graze my folds. I let out a soft moan while Matt continued teasing me. "You love getting eaten out from the back, don't you, you little whore?" He asked in a hoarse whisper. "Mhmm," I whimpered back. Matt moaned against my pussy, sending a vibration through my core while he prodded me with his velvety tongue. He spread me open and started suckling on my clit while he flicked his tongue across it. The combination of the different parts of his mouth working together while he had me bent over drove me wild.

Then he teased my slit with his finger and gently slipped it into my hole. "Oh my god," I sighed. He picked up the pace, causing me to bite on my fist to keep from screaming out his name. "Don't you dare cum yet, you little bitch. You'll finish when I tell you that you can," Matt growled, which brought me even closer to the edge. There was something about not being allowed to cum and not being able to make a whole lot of noise that made it significantly more difficult to keep myself from doing both, but having those limitations placed on me also made this particular sexual interaction even hotter.

My mind started to wander. What if I did let myself make noise? What if Chris and Nick did catch us? What if Nick could hear us through the wall and he was thinking about what a little whore I was for sneaking around with his brother? What if Chris walked in on us and wanted to join? I knew Matt would think I was such a little slut if he knew what thoughts were playing on my mind.

He explored every inch of the vessel between my legs, lapping up all my wetness and probing me with his finger. I did everything in my power to hold on, and right before I tipped past the point of no return, Matt ceased all stimulation. "No, no, please. Don't stop," I begged him, traumatized from all the times he had edged me over the course of the day and terrified he was about to do it again.

Instead, I felt his erection poking me while he felt around for my entrance. I delighted in the sensation as he pushed in his throbbing cock. "Oh," I gasped as he thrust his hips forward, stretching me out. "Little slut. Love getting fucked from behind," Matt grunted, starting to roughly pound me. He was right. I did love it. "What if we gave my brothers something to listen to, hmm?" He smugly laughed as if reading my thoughts. "Oh, fuck," I whined before I buried my face in the pillow to keep my desperate sounds muffled. "I know you wanna get caught, fucking whore," Matt huskily said into my ear. His thrusts were calculated, methodical, and drawn out.

"Faster," I moaned out louder than I meant to. "Beg for it, cunt," he rasped. "Please. Faster," I pathetically called out. "It doesn't sound like you really want it," Matt responded back, laughing to himself. "Fuck, Matt. Please fuck me faster and harder. I'm begging you," you pleaded with him at a slightly higher volume than before. "Jesus. I didn't say beg louder," he hushed me. "If you don't start fucking me harder and faster right fucking now, I'll scream your name until the whole house is awake," I threatened, looking back at him. He rolled his eyes and obliged, clapping into me with all his strength and stamina while I did my best to keep my whimpers to a minimum while he grabbed ahold of my hair and pulled on it.

"Please let me cum," I breathlessly begged. "Not yet," Matt gruffed. "Matt, please, I can't hold out much longer," I cried out, vision blurring and legs trembling. Matt's moans started to become more careless and less restrained. I could tell he was starting to get close as well. "Cum on my cock right this second, you little whore," Matt grunted while he fervently bucked his hips, using his grip on my hair as leverage.

I immediately felt my orgasm wash over me like a wavering tide that was determined to pull me under, and I surrendered to it. I was a moaning, writhing puddle of a pathetic woman beneath Matt as he finished into me. I could feel his member pulsing inside of me, enhancing the pleasure for us both. I couldn't get enough of him. I couldn't get enough of the power he held over me, and he knew it.

"Matt, please sleep here with me in your bed tonight," I begged him after he pulled himself out of me. "Of course, sweetheart," he said in a kinder voice, pulling me into his chest and kissing me on the lips and then again on my forehead. I was taken aback by his sudden gentle demeanor, but I didn't question it. I relished in how soft his presence felt wrapped around me, how safe I felt, and how at home I felt in his arms. I nestled myself into his neck and held onto him tightly. I didn't want to admit it, because Matt was disgusting, vile, and perverted, and there were times I wanted nothing to do with him, but in that moment, I found myself wishing I were his. We slowly drifted off to sleep intertwined with one another..

The next morning, I awoke to the sound of Nick's voice. "I knew it!" He exclaimed, and I panicked, realizing Matt was still in bed with me, spooning me while we both lay naked under the covers. "Fuck," Matt groaned, waking up and rubbing his eyes. "It all makes sense now," Chris said, standing on the other side of Nick. "I knew you guys hated each other a little too much," Nick smirked, putting the pieces together. Matt and I glanced at each other wide-eyed and embarrassed by having been caught. "Does this mean you're gonna ask her out, Matt?" Chris smiled, nudging his brother.

"You know, you guys have no boundaries," Matt responded, grabbing his pillow and hitting Chris in the stomach with it. "I don't get it. Is this just a hate fuck or are you in love with her?" Nick wondered, smiling at Matt. "Both. Now get the fuck out," Matt replied, launching the pillow at both his brothers. His response surprised me. Did Matt just admit to being in love with me?

"You guys are asking me questions that we haven't even had a chance to discuss yet, so if you could kindly get the fuck out of my room, I'd appreciate it. Thanks for putting us on the spot."

#sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matthew sturniolo #ᴀʀɪᴇꜱ' ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ .ᐟ ✮⋆˙#ᴍᴀᴛᴛ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ .ᐟ ✮⋆˙#ʜᴀᴛᴇꜰ--ᴋ .ᐟ ✮⋆˙

508 notes · View notes

twddixonn · 4 months ago

Text

Good Boy

Daryl Dixon x Reader one shot

Warnings/Tags: not proof read!!!, sfw, some swears, shane.

this is my first fic on this account, my first time attempting to write a fic in 4-ish years and my first time trying to write a twd fic. honestly it’s probably not great but I hope it’s at least somewhat decent. :-)

(also written and posted mobile so not sure how it will appear on browser, hopefully not too terrible!)

“Leave me the hell alone.” You harshly whispered, turning on your heels and storming away from the scene in front of you.

Your best friend reuniting with his wife and son. Alive. Not dead. This whole time he had you believing that Rick was dead and gone, never coming back. Yet your eyes were seeing a whole different story to the one Shane painted out for you a couple months prior.

Shane followed pursuit, ignoring the former comment you had made and put a firm hold on your wrist before pulling you behind Dales RV to conceal you from the others.

“Hey, hey . I swear to you Y/N, he was dead when I left that hospital room. He wasn’t breathing. Th- the monitors, they all stopped. Everything went dead. He was dead.” Shane iterated, time and time again.

You feel the anger bubbling up inside you, just like all those other times when Shane had told you Rick was dead and to get it through your head he isn’t coming back. Your hands curled into fists, your nails stabbing into your palm leaving crescent shaped indents.

“Except he wasn’t. Is this why you didn’t want me to go there? Didn’t want Lori to go there? Because you knew if you swooped in and saved her and Carl when Rick couldn’t that what- she’d become your damsel in distress? Is this why? Just so you could get your leg over and fuck your partners wife and become Carls daddy? You’re pathetic Shane.” At this point your head was swarming with thoughts and ideas of what you wanted to do to Shane but better judgement got the best of you.

You began to walk off when a hand reached for you again, this time rougher. Shane pushed you against the RV, his brows furrowed and sweat dripping off his temples- smoke nearly coming out of his ears at this point.

“I don’t know what you think you know but you’re wrong either way. I think you’re forgetting that I didn’t just save Lori and Carl, I saved your sorry ass too. I didn’t have to. That was on me Y/N, That was on me. An’ I ain’t ever looked at Lori like that before, she was Ricks wife and he was my best friend. It happened because I thought he was dead.” He all but growled at you in a hushed whisper.

You remained quiet and stoic for a few moments, registering your thoughts before smirking slightly and speaking again. Pushing Shane’s hand off of you, you began to walk away but not before turning and giving one last snide remark, “I think I know right. And, by the way.. really interesting use of the past tense in those last few sentences there.”

Dickhead.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

“I’ve been here for quite a few hours now and yet, still no hello?” You looked beside you to see Rick crouched with a smile on his face, placing an arm around your shoulder which you leaned into graciously.

“Sorry Grimes.. just- a lot to take in y’no.” You said.

“Na’ I get it. Shane told me what happened.” Rick remarked whilst kissing his teeth and shaking his head.

“He did? Really? What did he say?.”

To say you were shocked was an understatement, Shane had really gone out of his way to-

“Yeah.” He breathed out, “Told me how it started, he tried to get me from the hospital but I wasn’t breathing and he thought I was dead. How he saved you and Lori n’ Carl and got you all here.”

“He told you that huh.” You should have known.

Rick started to stand back up, giving you a pat on the back and a kiss to the forehead first “I’m gonna go get some shut eye, you need too aswell. Talk more in the morning Y/N.” Rick turned to walk back towards camp, not before turning and speaking again, “Y/N.. go nice on Shane though ok? He’s a good guy, you just gotta give him a chance.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

You wake up the next day to the sound of what you thought was - for once - peace and quiet. Until you hear the shouts outside and a woman screaming stop.

Debating between laying back down and just going back to sleep or getting up and out of your tent to see what was going on, you went with the better judgement and begrudgingly dragged yourself to get changed and step outside.

Shielding your eyes from the rays of light beaming off the Atlanta sun with a sigh escaping your lips at the slight breeze that hit your clammy skin.

“You’d best let me go!”- what the fuck was happening this time?

Walking closer you take sight of Shane with his arms wrapped around Daryl’s neck. A fuckin’ cop getting someone in a choke hold the minute they raise their voice? New worlds maybe not as different from before.

“I’d like to have a calm discussion on this topic, you think we can manage that?” Rick spoke calmly whilst he crouched in front of Daryl, his chest heaving with rocky breaths as Shane’s tight grip didn’t let up just yet.

“You think we can manage that?” Rick repeated.

You zoned out at this point, eyes boring into the side of Shane’s skull with anger.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

“I’m coming.” You didn’t hesitate to jump at the opportunity to get away from camp for a while. The rising tension taking over was beginning to grate at you.

“That’s five”

Shane piped up “It’s not just five, you’re putting every single one of us at risk.” “Just know that Rick”

“Come on man you saw that walker. It was here.

It was in camp.

They’re moving out of the cities.

They come back, we need every able body we’ve got.

We need em here, we need em to protect camp.”

Staying focused when Shane’s voice is droning on for what seems like eternity is quite the mission lately. Listening to him is beginning to seem like nails on a chalkboard.

“-Shane is right. Merle Dixon? He’s not worth one of your lives, even with guns thrown in.”

Hearing Loris voice made you gain attention again.

“If someone left Rick behind-“ you began to join the conversation, maybe with the words aimed at Shane slightly. He clearly picked up on it as his eyes shot to you, if looks could only kill, you’d be six feet under.

“Would you want them to go back for him? Or would you let him stay handcuffed to a roof to die slowly?” Your eyes landing on Lori.

“That’s different. Rick.. he.. he isn’t like Merle. He wouldn’t get himself into that position in the first place.” The stern mom tone coming out as Lori tried to keep her composure and not snap in front of Carl.

“You think Merle purposely got himself into that position? He’s an asshole yeah, and he may have deserved it. But he didn’t expect to be handcuffed and then left behind. Not knowing if anyone was going to go back for him. It may have been an accident. But he shouldn’t have to sit there wondering if he’s just going to die from thirst and hunger or if he’s going to get torn to pieces at the hands of walkers. He may not be your family, but he’s someone’s family. You have your husband, your son. You have Shane. Merle is all Daryl has.” You’re not sure if you were even breathing during that, your chest rising up and down at a rapid speed. You felt rage. How could anyone justify this bullshit?

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Sitting in the back of the van was a bit more awkward than you anticipated. Glenn and Rick up front. You, Daryl and T-dog in the back. Maybe the tension in the back of this van was worse than the tension at camp?

You looked up smiling at T-dog as he avoided Daryl’s intense stare, before he got up and headed to the front to talk to Glenn and Rick.

Daryl kept shooting you glances whenever he thought you couldn’t see, a grunt leaving his mouth every so often as if he was about to talk but decided against it.

Just as you looked up at him, he was already staring with his mouth open yet no words seemed to come so he just scoffed and averted his eyes anywhere but at you.

You began to grow a bit frustrated at him. “What?”

“Nothin’” he all but murmured.

“Stop grunting and scoffing at me like a dog who didn’t get enough treats, be a good boy and just say whatever it is you’ve been wanting to say for the last 15 minutes.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at yourself.

You could have sworn you saw a light tinge of pink cross his cheeks before his head dropped down facing his lap.

His mouth opened and closed, before opening once again “Why’d ya stick up for me.. for Merle back at tha’ camp?”

Oh. That’s what this was about? The intense looks he gave you before this made you think it was about anything but this.

“What do you mean?” You had to admit you were somewhat confused at this.

“Ya said it y’self, Merle, he’s an asshole. So why’d ya go out of ya way to defend him? Why didn’t ya just side with the others and leave him?” Head dropping once again as his thumb found its way to his lips as he gnawed on the nail.

Silence.

You were stuck for words. “He is an asshole. Maybe one of the biggest assholes I’ve ever known. But he’s your brother, maybe not the greatest one but still your brother no matter what. He’s all you have left. The others may not understand, but I do.” Taking a deep breath in and thinking about your next words carefully, “I honestly couldn’t give a shit about him. Doesn’t mean I want him to suffer up there on that roof. No one deserves it. Well I mean maybe some people y’no? Really bad people. And maybe Shane. Merle, he’s not necessarily one of those really bad people. He makes mistakes, says things he definitely shouldn’t and has actions that match, but don’t we all in one way or another?”

Daryl was slightly overwhelmed. Not expecting you to be so honest and caring? Somewhat caring anyway. He didn’t know what to say.

You hummed and tapped your fingers against your legs, “Nothing to say?”

“I dunno what you want me to say.”

A grin made its way to your face.

“How about a thanks?”

“Thanks.” He grumbled trying not to scoff afterwards to avoid being called a dog again.

The van began to come to a stop, Glenn saying something about walking from here.

You stood up whilst stretching your arms above your head.

“That’ll do. Good boy.”

You smirked at him before opening the back of the van and climbing out. Leaving a blushing Daryl in the back trying to hide his face as he groaned standing up.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

authors note: it’s not the greatest, I am very aware. but I really wanna get back into writing in general and I thought starting with twd would be the best place to start as it’s one of my comfort shows. there’s not much happening, it’s very heavily based on s1 e3 obviously but it’s mostly just to try and get back in the swing of things! if you have an constructive feedback or any comments you’d like to make, please feel free as it will be much appreciated :-) I’m hoping to improve my writing skills more and more. It will probably take a while (I’ve literally had the first half of this thing in my notes app since June 2024) but I hope to get to the point of making some good fics! thank you for reading if you managed to make it this far!:)

#the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #twd daryl #twd x reader #daryl dixon oneshot #daryl dixon imagine #twd fanfiction

217 notes · View notes

seiwas · 11 months ago

Text

contains: suggestive, slight mentions of alcohol, a lil bit cheesy but when is love not, unedited happy birthday, my love 🥺

hajime doesn’t care much about his birthday.

at least, not as much his mom and oikawa do, with lit up candles and striped party hats in his rumpled godzilla pajamas. it's greetings at midnight, on the dot, no matter what—even through the crackling sound of static over ocean waves.

he definitely doesn’t care about it as much as his college friends do, with them slapping his back and elbowing his side until his ribs hurt just so he can down another shot for the 'nth' year of his existence.

(they try with all their might to get him past the 5th, but he's driving tonight; and if there's anything about hajiime stronger than his tolerance, it's how resolute he is—firm in his beliefs and even more with his principles.)

so, hajime doesn't care much about his birthday.

but you do, and when he says things like—

"it's not that important, we don't have to."

—all you hear is, 'bla bla bla, it's important, bla bla bla we have to.'

you prepared a picnic for him, among all the other activities you planned for today.

this morning, you served him a hefty stack of pancakes with a rice bowl full of his favorites (that he took a bite from oh-so-sweetly, only to push it to the side before gripping your thigh, deciding that he wanted something else for breakfast instead).

then, you went on a hike. just a short trek up his favorite spot an hour out of town. hajime likes being under the sun; he loves the heat, the sweat that trickles down the divots of his muscles because they mean hard work. a good effort. a sign of trying.

he loves tackling you the most in this state—sticky and sweaty, a little slippery. you hate how it mixes in with your sunscreen, but love how hajime feels against your skin, arms wrapped tightly around your waist, and chin tucked sloppily against your neck.

so you let him.

(and even though you tell him he gets a pass because it's his birthday, he knows that isn't true. you always let him do this, anyway.)

his favorite roast beef sandwich, then a shower and dessert (yes, together) later have found yourselves here, at the cusp of sunset, a drive up at your favorite spot overlooking the city.

you prepared a picnic for him, packed all his favorite snacks and berries; made a small chocolate cake with the letters 'hbd hajime ♡' in even smaller fondant cut-outs. simple and minimal (because you know he would prefer it). you intended to watch the sun go down cuddled up in the few blankets you brought, but the weather’s been gloomy for the past 30 minutes, and even worse than that—it's begun to rain.

hajime can sense your stress, he always does, and when he rubs circles on your back telling you, "it's not that important, we don't have to."

you only feel the need to prove him wrong.

if you push forward the chairs in the middle row of his suv, you'll have enough space at the back. and if you park the car to face the view, you can still catch the twinkling of city lights when it turns dark.

the cogs in your brain turn and your brows scrunch as you remain silent, so much so that it begins to worry him.

rain patters against the windshield, and hajime leans over the center console, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"it's okay, babe, you've done so much for me already. we can go back—"

"no," you look him in the eye.

because, it is important.

hajime, the man you love and have loved for the past 4 years; the most hardworking, determined, and considerate man you've ever known was born today, 26 years ago.

and hajime might not care about his birthday because he doesn't think it matters all that much, but it matters to you, because this has been the most important day of the year to you since first meeting him.

"give me a bit," you twist to face the back, "excuse me," urging hajime to move to the side as you cross the center console to the seats at the middle row. you push the seats forward and bend over the backrest, hauling your picnic basket, blankets, and pillows to the now vacant and spacious trunk.

"i can help—" you hear his door handle click.

"no!" you shout from the back, "remember, we agreed! birthday boy relaxes and enjoys!"

he isn't happy about it, and you know he'll insist that he can only relax and enjoy if you're relaxed and enjoying, but you work quickly enough that he doesn't get to argue.

when you call him to the back, you've set up the entire space. the picnic mat is laid out, pillows placed comfortably in areas you both can cuddle in. a bunch of berries and crackers are laid out in a makeshift food section, along with a few bags of chips and the small chocolate cake you stayed up last night making. you serve water as your drinks because hajime prefers it that way.

the sight that greets him is more than anything he thinks he deserves, but what truly takes the cake is you, sitting on the palms of your feet with your baby hairs matted to your forehead and the sweetest smile reaching your cheeks. you hold up your phone to show a live youtube video of a setting sun in some place, somewhere in the world, and amidst the rain pattering against the roof of his car, hajime thinks he would rather have this over a real sunset, somewhere in the world, without you.

he crawls over to where you are, careful to avoid the food you set up. his cheeks hurt from smiling, eyes crinkling as he takes your cheeks in the palms of his hands, squishing them together before kissing you with all the love he can't put into words.

hajime doesn’t care much about his birthday.

but as he parks the car in reverse, positioning the trunk to view the city lights down below, he sees the twinkle in your eyes and can’t help but love how happy his birthday makes you.

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #hajime x reader #hq x reader #hq!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #shotorus.bubble #happy birthday hajime #i love him so much 🥺🥺🥺🥺

761 notes · View notes

persevereforahappyending · 9 months ago

Text

A Legacies Secret |11|

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: You just wanted a happy life with your girlfriend but then Ghostface attacks, revealing long thought to be buried family secrets.

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 3.2k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Tara stared mindlessly at the TV while some old movie played, she tried flipping through the channels, but the hospital was already limited and there seemed to be nothing on. Tara kept checking her phone, waiting for a text that said you were on the way. It had been twenty minutes since you had last texted her, but she wasn’t worried yet, she figured you were probably just getting out of the shower, and she’d receive a text any minute.

She quickly grabbed her phone a minute later when she felt it vibrate. She frowned when she saw it wasn’t you calling but her sister. She knew she’d have to talk to Sam at some point, she had definitely cooled off since their last conversation. She wasn’t even mad anymore, she didn’t care who Sam’s birth father was, she couldn’t believe Sam never said anything though, Tara would have been there for her. She was honestly just happy Sam was still in town, as angry as you were, you said Sam got Dewey involved and they were both at Mindy’s, Sam hadn’t bailed yet when she easily could have.

“Hello?” Tara answered the phone.

“Look, I know you don’t want to speak to me right now,” Sam said softly.

“It’s fine, I’m just-”

“Tara something happened,” Sam cut her off. Tara sat up in the bed, ignoring the pain in her side. Sam hadn’t said anything yet and she could already feel her heart trying to beat out of her chest. “Y/N was attacked.”

Tara shook her head, tears already filling her eyes. “No,” she whispered. It wasn’t possible, she had just talked to you, you were at your apartment, you had just met up with everyone else, there was no way you could have been attacked.

“They’re alive.” Tara let out a relieved breath which sounded more like a sob. Alive was good, alive was all that mattered, she didn’t know how extensive your injuries were though. Tara had survived and she had been stabbed several times and had her leg broken, she had no idea what condition you were in. “We’re on the way to the hospital now.” Tara could only nod, she couldn’t find the words to speak. “I’ll be right there.”

Tara wasn’t sure how long it was after she got off the phone with Sam before she saw her sister walking through the door. She knew it had probably only been a few minutes, but it felt like hours. When Sam finally walked through the door Tara shot up, wincing at the quick movement.

“Hey, take it easy,” Sam said, rushing to her bedside.

“Are they okay?” Tara asked. “What happened?” Tara searched Sam’s face for any signs of something bad.

“They’re okay,” Sam rested a gentle hand on Tara’s shoulder, easing her back down onto the pillow. “They’re getting stitched up right now.” Tears quickly filled Tara’s eyes again. “It was just a cut on their arm.” Tara let out a shaky breath, a cut was probably the best injury one could get from Ghostface. “And they have a concussion, they were already out before we arrived.”

“I-I have to go,” Tara looked around, trying to figure out how she’d make this work. “I have to see them,” her eyes landed on the wheelchair, widening slightly. She didn’t like the wheelchair, but it would have to do.

“No, you’re staying here.” Sam put her hand on Tara’s shoulder, keeping her from trying to push off the bed.

Tara instantly flicked a glare at her sister. “I need to be there for them.”

“They’re okay,” Sam tried to say as calmly as possible. “Right now, they’re unconscious, there’s nothing you can do anyway.”

“I have to be there when they wake up!” Tara snapped, her voice cracking. “They were right there when I first woke up,” she looked up at her sister through tear filled eyes. “They were the first person I saw, and the relief…” she let out a breath, when her eye landed on you, she knew no one would ever hurt her again. “Please,” she begged. “I don’t want them to be alone.”

“How about I go?” Sam suggested softly. Tara couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at her sister, she never expected Sam to sit at your bedside and wait for you to wake up. “I’m serious, I can go and when they wake up, I’ll come tell you. Besides, Gale and Dewey should be there, they’re the ones I rode with.”

Tara let out a chuckle, she smiled until she realized Sam was serious. “Yeah, because the person who doesn’t like her,” she gestured to Sam. “The guy who has arrested her more than once,” she gestured to the door, “and some random stranger is so much better to wake up to than your girlfriend.”

Sam frowned at Tara’s words. She wasn’t wrong, if she had woken up with anyone at her bedside besides you, she wouldn’t have been happy. She didn’t think any of her friends would have given her the instant comfort you did. The only person she felt completely safe next to besides you, was Sam.

“You can barely move,” Sam said gently. “Please, you know Y/N wouldn’t want you to, knowing it would cause you more discomfort.”

Tara looked down at her blanket, silently pouting. If it weren’t for the fact that she was stabbed through the hand and any sort of movement caused her excruciating pain, she would have crossed her arms. “Fine,” she mumbled.

Sam let out a relieved sigh and finally took her hand off Tara’s shoulder, seeming to assume she wouldn’t try leaving the bed again. “Do you need anything before I go down there?”

Tara shook her head. “Thank you, for doing this.”

Sam just smiled at her words then leaned forward, placing a kiss on the top of Tara’s head before making her way out of the room. Tara sighed, dropping her head back against the pillow, she didn’t know what she was supposed to do until you woke up, it’s not like her mind could focus on anything but your safety now. She decided to grab her phone and send a quick text to Liv to tell her what happened. Liv might have been more Tara’s friend than yours, but she still cared about you, and she would want to know what happened. It was only a few minutes later that Tara received a text from Liv that she was on her way.

Tara went back to watching whatever was on the TV. She tried to actually focus on the movie and not on worrying about you. You had been attacked, but you were alive, you were in the same building as her, you were safe, she just hadn’t seen you yet. As much as she tried to focus on the movie, she couldn’t help but look at her phone every two minutes, waiting to see if there was an update from Sam on you.

Tara’s door opened after what felt like hours later. She knew not that much time could have passed considering the same movie was playing but a second had never felt longer in her life. She sat up straighter when she saw her friends all pile into the room.

“Hey,” Tara said. She couldn’t help but scrunch her eyebrows as she saw them shuffling into the room. Chad, Mindy, and Wes kept their eyes on the floor. Amber and Liv seemed to be the only ones willing to look Tara in the eye.

The group, specifically Amber and Mindy, disagreed with Liv a lot. Even if they all got along, most group activities involved an argument between Liv and one, if not both, of them. Liv was outwardly glaring at Mindy though, more than Tara had ever seen.

“Everything okay?” Tara asked slowly, glancing from Liv to Mindy.

“No,” Liv snapped. “We just got back from visiting Y/N.”

“Wha-what happened? Are they okay?” Tara sat up in her bed.

“They’re fine,” Amber said, waving her hand.

“Fine isn’t exactly the word I’d use to describe them right now,” Liv shot a glare at Amber.

Tara furrowed her brow. “What happened?”

“Let’s just say it seems Sam isn’t the only one with family secrets,” Amber smirked.

“Can someone just tell me what the fuck happened?” Tara snapped. You clearly weren’t okay, something happened after her friends visited you and Liv seemed to be the only one that cared.

Everyone flicked a scared glance at Tara, all of them clearly too afraid to answer her. Tara rolled her eyes and was about to snap at them again when the door opened again. She snapped her eyes to the door, her gaze softening when she saw it was Sam.

“What’s going on?” Sam asked slowly.

“I don’t know,” Tara snapped. “They were just about to tell me what happened with Y/N.” Sam’s eyes shot to the floor, making Tara furrow her brow again, her sister also knew what happened.

“Hey!” Richie said, popping into the room as well. “I got you some fries,” he held out a small order of fries to Sam. Sam rolled her eyes at the fries but offered Richie a soft smile. “What-What did I miss?” he glanced around the room, seeming to just realize he walked into something.

“Y/N was attacked,” Tara said.

“Holy shit,” Richie whispered.

“And something happened but no one will tell me what the fuck is going on with my girlfriend,” she glanced at each person in the room.

“She’s awake,” Sam said. “That’s the first thing.” Her voice was soft, as if she were trying to keep Tara from overreacting to whatever else she had to say. “While Judy was asking questions about what happened Ghostface called.” Tara sucked in a breath; her heart began beating faster. “They-they...” Sam blinked a few times to gather her thoughts. Tara wondered what possibly could have been said over this phone call. “Ghostface said something,” she whispered. “And then Gale Weathers,” Sam shook her head, making Tara furrowed her brow. “Y/N is Gale and Dewey’s daughter.”

Tara’s eyes widened. “What?” she shook her head; she couldn’t have heard right.

You didn’t know your parents, your parents threw you away, literally left you outside the hospital so there was no trace of them. Learning this, learning Dewey, a guy who arrested you, and Gale, a talk show host, learning they were your parents would be worse than Ghostface actually attacking you. Dewey and Gale lived in town, they had been married, you could have had a family, a home, but they abandoned you instead.

“And then Mindy accused them of being Ghostface,” Liv said. “Again.”

Tara snapped a furious glare to Mindy. “What?” she asked, venom clearly in her tone.

“It just makes sense,” Mindy said calmly, raising her hand as if that would quench Tara’s anger. “A child of two legacy characters, abandoned by them, betrayed by them, then learning all this,” she gestured around. “Taking on the mantle of the killer than defined them, that still defines all of them, that ruined them, what better revenge?”

Tara looked at Mindy with wide eyes, shaking her head as she tried to contain her anger. “You got to be fucking kidding me,” Tara said. “That’s fucking bullshit! She didn’t know who her parents were!” she gestured widely with her good hand.

“Well, Ghostface learned,” Amber said, giving a little shrug. “It makes more sense for the child to learn who their parents are than it does some random stranger.”

Tara shook her head. “No! Y/N isn’t the killer!”

“You can’t know that T,” Mindy sighed. “You were here when they were attacked,” she put attacked in quotation marks. “No one was with them.”

“So, all of you were together?” All her friends kept their mouths shut. Tara let out a humorless chuckle. “Any of you could be the killer,” she cast her eyes over each of them. “All I know is Y/N isn’t the killer, they’re the only one I can say that for certain about.” Tara didn’t miss the way Sam crossed her arms over her chest, she almost felt bad, it sounded like she might believe Sam was capable of this, but she didn’t, she didn’t think you or Sam could ever do something like this, she knew neither of you could ever hurt her. “I think you guys can show yourselves out.”

“Come on Tara-”

“Get the fuck out!”

“Come on,” Chad whispered just as Mindy opened her mouth again. He gently put his hand on her arm and led her out the door. Wes quietly followed behind them, keeping his eyes on the floor.

“You too,” Tara said, looking at Amber. Amber opened her mouth to probably defend herself but quickly closed it, rolling her eyes as she stomped out of the room.

Liv stepped forward, resting her hand on Tara’s shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. “She said she wanted to be alone,” Liv whispered. “But...”

Tara nodded, giving her a kind smile. Even when you wanted to be alone that never applied to Tara, she was the exception, always. “Thank you,” Tara whispered.

Liv followed the others out of the room leaving Tara alone with Sam and Richie. She wasn’t alone with them for long before Richie seemed to take the hint and made himself scarce as well.

Tara narrowed her eyes as Sam kept her eyes pointed at the floor, refusing to look at her. “You don’t agree with them, do you?” Tara scoffed. She kicked Sam out of the room before she was not afraid to do it again.

“I don’t think she’s the killer,” Sam mumbled. “I was standing right there when Gale revealed the truth,” Sam looked up, meeting Tara’s eyes finally. “You’d have to be a fucking spectacular actor to fake that kind of pain.” Tara’s heart broke at hearing that, she knew you better than anyone, she still could only imagine what you were going through. “However,” Tara furrowed her brow, she had a feeling she wasn’t going to like Sam’s next words. “I want you to stay away from Y/N.”

“No,” Tara said instantly, shaking her head. “No. She needs me right now.”

“Tara-”

“No!”

“She is the daughter of Dewey and Gale!” Tara glared up at Sam. “Mindy might be wrong about her being the killer, but Y/N is the daughter of two of the only survivors of the original attacks. None of this is a coincidence,” Sam shook her head. “Someone let her live because it’s all just a game to them. You’re only going to be in danger with her around.”

Tara clenched her jaw, shaking her head, she couldn’t believe Sam was actually saying this. It wasn’t true, if anything Tara was safer with you around, you’d never let someone hurt her, hell she was most likely attacked because you weren’t around.

“If that’s true about her then the same goes for you,” Tara said, shrugging indifferently.

“Tara-”

“No,” Tara snapped. “If I’m in danger because she’s Dewey and Gales daughter then I’m definitely in danger because you’re the daughter of Billy Loomis.” Tara glared at her sister, refusing to react to the way Sam flinched at her words. “So, if I can’t be around her then you need to leave as well.”

Part of her was hoping Sam would back down, that Sam would realize how insane her logic was. Sam didn’t back down though, she just nodded sadly, then left, leaving Tara alone in her hospital room once again. Tara wiped her eyes; she didn’t even know when she started to cry. She shot you a text, wanting to be there for you in any way she could since she literally couldn’t be there for you. She decided to rest her eyes as she waited for you to text back, yelling at her friends had been more exhausting than she realized.

Tara wasn’t sure how long she dozed off for before her eyes snapped open. Her eyes darted around the room until they landed on a figure sitting in the corner. It was still daylight out, but all the lights were off, and her blinds were closed making the room rather dark. Tara’s heartbeat picked up for a second, but she quickly let out a relieved breath, shaking her head.

“Shit,” she whispered. “You scared the hell out of me.” It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dark, but she would know your form anywhere, even slumped in a chair, in a dark corner of the room.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

“Are you okay?” It was a stupid question; she knew the second it left her mouth. It wasn’t like she needed to ask anyway, once the others told her everything, she knew you most definitely weren’t okay. She could hear it in your voice, even before you spoke, she could tell by the way you were slumped in the seat, nowhere near her bedside.

“I assume you heard?” There was no emotion in your voice, it was like you detached yourself from everything.

“Yeah.” Tara didn’t take her eyes off you; she watched as you somehow sunk further into the chair, eyes glued to the floor. She couldn’t see you that well anyway but the only time you had looked at her was when you apologized for scaring her, otherwise your eyes had been glued to the same spot on the floor.

“Everyone thinks I’m the killer,” you whispered. “Sam doesn’t want me to see you anymore.” Tara opened her mouth to argue, to say she didn’t think you were the killer, and she couldn’t care less what Sam thought. You weren’t the killer and there was nothing that would keep Tara away from you, not even her own sister. “And-” your voice cracked. “And my-” you paused on the word as if you physically couldn’t say it. Tara wanted nothing more than to jump out of the stupid bed and run up to you. “My birth mother abandoned me.”

Tara could feel her heart break for you, tears filled her eyes as she watched you bury your head in your hands, gripping your hair tightly. “Baby,” she whispered.

“Why wasn’t I good enough?” You looked up and the little bit of light in the room allowed Tara to see the tears shining in your eyes. “She was right there!” Your voice went higher but not loud enough for anyone outside the room to hear you. “And Dewey, he-” you shook your head and quickly buried your head your hands again. “They were right there. Why wasn’t I enough?” Your breathing was starting to become erratic. “Why am I not enough?” You began to sob.

“Come here,” Tara said. Her own tears had already begun to fall at seeing you like this.

You didn’t hesitate to leave your chair and take the one at Tara’s side, on the side of her good hand. Despite your distressed state, you buried your head in Tara’s side, careful not to touch any of her injuries. Tara reached up with her good hand and began running her hand through your hair, lightly scratching your scalp. She tried to offer you any sort of comfort as you silently sobbed into her side.

#tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x fem!reader #tara carpenter imagine #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #scream #scream v #scream 5 #a legacies secret

401 notes · View notes