#sorry . im very emotional over them today | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

captain-bubble-wrap · 15 days ago

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While im at it: maybe a cute blurb about Quinn x reader when the have been together for a while and she gets her period unexpectedly when she’s sleeping over. I had that happened to me before and it was mortifying and embarrassing but i feel like quinn would be sweet about it and make her feel better. Also i get super emotional and teary and stuff when im on my period and in pain so maybe that could be part of the blurb as well?🥴🥹🥰

I hope this is alright, lovie! Hopefully it checks all the boxes!

Morning had come too early.

Quinn was up before you, as was normal most days, but today you were in no hurry to get around. You had awoken to a very peculiar pain and you knew what it had signaled, but there was always a part of you that hoped that maybe it was just something else. Every single time it happened, "maybe it's just a stomachache or something," you'd try to convince yourself. However, every time it came around it was the same old situation.

It was never a big deal when it happened at your house, but you were at Quinn's this time. And, unfortunately, you were met with a not-so-nice surprise when you finally rolled out of bed. There it was, the unmistakable red stain on his pale grey sheets. You'd sigh before stripping the bed, grabbing something new to wear and your bag, and tiptoeing to the bathroom, hoping Quinn wouldn't hear you. "Of all goddamn days," you'd mutter to yourself, just annoyed with how your day was starting. A little cold water and some friction would do the trick in releasing the blood from the fabrics but still...what a start to the morning.

After everything was taken care of, you'd finally leave the bathroom in no better mood than when you had gotten up.

The sheets and your clothes would get thrown in that day's laundry; out of sight, out of mind, for now anyway.

"Babe, what, uh...what happened to the sheets?" Quinn asked loudly, extremely confused by the state of his bedroom. He hadn't remembered leaving it like it was: blankets on the floor, pillows in a mountain beside them, and the sheets gone. You had made it to the kitchen; hugging your knees to your chest in the chair at the island, when he'd come looking for you.

"Baby?" He would ask again, "did you hear me?"

"Yeah, I um...I had to strip the bed. Sorry," you finally replied, turning your head away from him.

Standing beside you, he'd take a minute from what he was doing to check in with you. "Are you okay?"

"What? Oh yeah, I'm...peachy," you said, rolling your eyes.

Quinn pouted, his lower lip quite pronounced though you weren't looking at him. He'd reach out to put his hand to your back but you'd shrug him off.

"I'm fine, Quinn. You don't have to hover." Pushing past him, you'd return to the bedroom and lock the door behind you. His pout was gone now, replaced with his sad, puppy eyes instead and a heavy feeling in his chest.

"Baby?" He asked, standing in front of the door. He'd try the knob, but upon finding it locked he would sigh. He didn't know what he had done to make you so mad and so quickly. "Can you tell me what's wrong? Or...what I did?"

By the time he had gotten to the door, you had already pulled a fresh set of sheets from one of the drawers beneath the bed and was in the process of remaking it, wishing this entire conversation would come to an end. He would continue to try and get you to talk to him, but you would simply ignore him as you kept working. In the moment, you didn't care how he felt, you just want him to stop pressing what was wrong. You'd have enough self-restraint to keep from yelling at him to leave you alone, but not much.

Defeated and shutout, Quinn shuffled back to the living room and sat down on the sofa. His heart hurt; you had never been mad at him like this before, not in person at least. What had he done? Eventually, the bed got made, new pillowcases and sheets, and thankfully you hadn't needed to do any spot treatment on the mattress topper. It was bad enough you had to rinse the sheet stain in the sink, trying to explain why the mattress was wet was something you were happy to avoid.

With the bedroom put back together, you grabbed up the rest of the linens and went to leave the bedroom. By then, you were feeling guilty about how you had snapped at Quinn and as you stood paused at the door, you felt a wave of emotion wash over you. How could you have said (and thought) such things? Hormones were a dangerous thing to not have control over. Quietly, you turned the lock and stepped out. Sitting on the sofa was Quinn with his head in his hands. The sight broke you; the tears like a floodgate after you blinked. You'd drop what you were holding and run over to him in a hurry.

"Oh, Quinn, I'm so sorry!"

He turned towards you, hearing your socked feet against the hardwood floor, standing to take you into his arms. Quinn would hold you so tightly as you cried just over his shoulder.

"I'm sorry I made you mad," he said softly.

"I shouldn't have been so mean to you! I'm the one who should be sorry!" Tears streamed down your cheeks as you sniffled, trying to contain your emotions but you were failing.

"What's wrong?" He asked, leaning his head against yours, hands still tight around your body. "Talk to me. Please?"

"I...I got blood on your sheets."

"That's okay, baby," he reassured, placing a kiss against your ear. "I don't care about that stuff. You should have just told me, I would have helped you. I could have taken care of everything for you."

"I couldn't have asked that of you. I did it..."

"It happens, sweetheart. It's natural; it doesn't gross me out, okay? Not a big deal at all."

Somehow, his kindness made you cry more, and you would dig your nails into his back, fearful he was going to pull away.

"I'm sorry I hurt your feelings," you wept.

Quinn shook his head slightly, "I'm okay, sweetheart. I just didn't know what had happened. You know you can talk to me about anything, you know? I'll never judge you for anything -- ever."

He truly wasn't like most guys, which made how you treated him earlier so much worse. "I can't believe I did that to you!"

"Shhh," he whispered, a hand now resting on the back of your head, the other low around your waist. "I'm not mad at you. Let me take care of you, today, hm?"

How could you let him do such a kindness to you when you were so sour with him mere moments ago? How was he so kind when he had every right to be upset and distant?

"No, baby," you declined, not because you didn't want him to dote on you, but because you didn't think you deserved it.

"Please? I want to."

There simply was no telling him -- no. Your silence would let him know you had folded and his soft words would leave you melting.

"Why don't you sit down while I go draw you a bath, okay?"

Reluctantly, you withdrew your hands from his back and let some space develop between the two of you. Quinn gave you a smile, wiping away the lingering tears from your cheek. His hand would caress it after, pulling you forward for a quick kiss.

"I won't be too long, okay? I'll get everything ready and I'll come get you."

You gave a nod, his hand falling away from your face slowly. Finding your seat at the island, you'd wait patiently for Quinn to return. You couldn't help but feel so guilty about having him do things for you, especially after you had made him feel so poorly. Maybe there was something you could do for him, but while you sat there and pondered, nothing came to mind.

Hearing doors open and close, you wondered what he was up to, but you'd stay where you were to avoid spoiling his surprise.

"Alright, sweetheart," Quinn said, walking to the end of the hallway. "Why aren't you sitting on the sofa?"

"I don't--," you stammered, finding it hard to find your words. "I didn't want to get anything...on it. Things happen...you know."

"And I'll take care of it, baby. Today is about you being comfortable."

You made your way over to him, trying not to be sad. "You're far too sweet."

Quinn shook his head, "I'm giving you exactly what you need."

"Quinny," you mumbled, your eyes feeling wet with tears again.

"All for you, sweetheart."

You'd allow him to lead you down the hall to the bathroom which was blanketed with steam. The air smelled like a multitude of different floral notes and the warmth of the room danced around your exposed skin.

"I'm going to give you some time alone to get comfortable then I'll be back to check on you."

- - -

There was a knock at the door.

"May I come in?" Quinn asked just on the other side.

"Mhm," you replied, submerged in the still steaming water just below your shoulders. Your hair was up, with a few tendril-like strands framing your face.

"Hello, beautiful." There was a mug in his hand as he approached you with another smile on his lips. There was nothing you loved more than seeing that genuine expression light up his face. You couldn't keep your stomach from doing a flip-flop feeling, just being overwhelmed with his sweet generosity.

"How are you feeling?" He asked handing you the cup. "Careful, it's hot."

"Thank you, baby, and I'm okay."

He pouted, playfully, "Aw, just 'okay'? I'll have to try harder I guess."

Before you could tell him there was nothing more he needed to do, due to the cup to your lips, Quinn stepped around to the back of the free-standing tub and put his hands on your shoulders. The feeling of his touch made your eyes roll up into your head slightly. His delicate fingers began to knead away any tension you had been carrying. You couldn't help but let the faintest moan escape your lips. Quinn didn't need to ask you if what he was doing felt okay, and you also wouldn't be able to see his smirk either. Lost in the bliss of his touch, your head would fall forward slightly. Quinn hinged slightly at his waist to be able to place the softest of kisses to your neck.

"I love you," he whispered, just loud enough for you to hear.

Goosebumps surged over your bare skin, feeling his breath against your neck. Now was not the time to want him in that way, but he was making it too easy.

"You're teasing me," you whined, your eyes still closed, but enjoying every single second of him on your skin.

"But do you feel good?"

"Mhm."

He grinned, placing, in quick succession, several more from your ear down the curve of your neck. "Is there anything I can get you?"

"No, baby, you've done more than enough," you replied, nearly breathless. "Thank you."

"You let me know when you're ready to get out, okay?"

"Maybe another ten minutes?"

Quinn nodded, letting his fingertips trail across your shoulders as he moved back towards the door. "Take your time."

Almost like he had set a timer, Quinn came back within ten or so minutes, a towel and stack of clothes in his arms.

"Fresh out of the dryer."

"Oh, Quinn," you said, taken aback by his kindness.

"Just trying to help."

- - -

The warm towel and clothes had been a nice transition from the bath water and had been something that hadn't crossed your mind to do or ask for. Just the thought of it again made you smile. It had been several minutes since Quinn had came to check on your which made you wonder what he could be up to now. Knowing him, it would be something for sure.

He had brought you one of his hoodies, a t-shirt, some leggings, and a pair of thick fuzzy socks; your usual "time-of-the-month" outfit. Quinn's observance was unapparelled. You dressed quickly and dealt with things in the bathroom before seeing what your man was up to.

"Quinny?" You asked, looking around.

"I was just about to see if you were alright!" He replied, meeting you in the hall. "How was your bath?"

"Wonderful," you said, giving him a kiss. "Thank you."

Quinn smiled, taking your hand. "One more thing for you."

"Baby," you whined, feeling he had simply done enough, but you'd follow him without hesitation.

There, in the living room, Quinn had the sofa all set up. There were pillows from the bedroom, a couple quilts folded back with a heating pad sandwiched in, and a towel down covering the cushion. Your eyes had migrated there first, which brought on a wave a guilt.

"It's just to ease your mind, baby," Quinn said, seeing the change in your mood. "I don't care what happens to the sofa. It's just stuff. This wasn't to make you feel bad."

"Okay," you mumbled, trying to stay happy, letting go of his hand to sit down. Quinn was quick to tuck you in, after placing the heating pad against your stomach.

"Baby, you don't have to do everything."

He just laughed, "I know. Here's the remote-thing for that, I didn't know how hot you would want it."

"It's perfect, sweetheart, thank you."

Quinn sat down beside you, his hand finding yours as you leaned your head on his shoulder. "Lunch?"

"Okay," you said yawning. That bath had really drained your energy, but everything had been perfect. "What do you want?"

"What do /you/ want?" He pressed, giving your hand a squeeze.

"I want a nap."

Quinn laughed again. He couldn't deny that a nap sounded pretty good to him as well. "Well, let's order something and we'll curl up for a nap?"

It was too late for you, because as soon as your eyes came to a close, hand-in-hand with Quinn, you were out.

"Babe?" He asked when you didn't answer him about lunch, but all he could do was chuckle quietly. "Nap first, then lunch. Fine with me."

#💌maven's love notes #quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes one shot #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes fic #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #hockey fic

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rafeandonlyrafe · 1 year ago

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who did this to you?

words: 1.4k

warnings: parental abuse!, drinking, physical violence, cursing, kind of allusions to sex?? but its pretty vague imo, reader has a bruise and its briefly described

taglist: @drewstarkeysbae @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @winterrrnight @slut4drudy @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450

you groan hearing the engine roar behind you, being able to tell exactly whose truck it was from the sound alone. and just like normal, rafe cameron had spectacularly bad timing.

“where you going, princess?” rafe calls out the window, of course pulling to the side of the road when he sees you walking.

“piss off, cameron.” you call, not turning to look at him. “im not in the fucking mood for it today.”

“such dirty words for a princess to be using.” rafe tsks, using the ironic nickname that somehow shifted from pogue princess from when you first moved to town, to now just princess.

“not that i ever want to see you rafe, but especially not today.” you simply keep walking, hoping that rafe would piss off or get bored and drive away, but he stays rolling slowly along next to you.

“okay, cut it out.” rafe shouts. “it’s starting to get dark, just get in so i can give you a ride home.”

“not going home.” you shrug, finally looking over to rafe.

upon making eye contact, you can see his eyebrows rise, and he immediately slams on the trucks breaks and puts it into park, not caring that he’s stopped in the middle of the road. he gets out of the truck with a harsh slam of his door, his chest heaving as he rounds the bonnet to join you on the sidewalk.

“what happened?” his hand comes to cup your jaw gently, turning your face into the streetlight to give him a better view of the purple bruise forming around your temple. “who did this to you?”

“it’s nothing rafe.” you shove his hand away. “don’t act like you fucking care about me now.”

you try to push past him, continue your walk in the general direction of popes house, hoping his parents wouldn’t mind you crashing there for the night, but rafe stops you with firm hands on both your shoulders. “i may give you shit for being a pogue, but that doesn’t mean i want to see you hurt, princess. now tell me who did this to you. was it jj?”

tears well in your eyes at the very thought of your good friend putting his hands on you, and it just further exemplifies the differences between the kooks and pogues for rafe to not even realize how absurd it is to mention jj. he sees him as violent and dangerous, nothing more.

“no, it wasn’t jj, you dick.”

“then tell me who!” rafe shouts, shaking your shoulders slightly, making you cower back when his voice raises.

“fuck.” rafe sighs out, hands instantly dropping to his sides. “i’m sorry- i’m so sorry princess, i didn’t mean to scare you.”

“stop it.” you plead, letting your tears flow freely down your cheeks, an intense build up from since you started holding them back hours ago. “stop treating me like this, just go back to being a jerk and calling me a dirty pogue.”

“y/n.” rafe states your name firmly, and it almost shocks you. you know he knows it, but he always goes for calling you princess rather than what everyone else calls you. “tell me what happened, please. i do care.”

“it was my dad.” you blurt out. “there? are you fucking happy? that my dad got drunk and threw a fucking beer bottle at me. i was lucky it didn’t break and cut my eye. is that what you wanted to know? my fucking sob story so you can use it against me next time?”

“princess…” rafe sighs, letting you collapse into his chest, no longer able to hold back the sobs racking your body, shoulders shaking at the intensity.

your knees give out, and rafe lowers to the ground with you, effortlessly scooping you onto his lap as your hands grasp at his shirt, keeping your face pressed against his chest, making a mess of snot and tears on the fabric, but you’re far too emotional to care.

“breathe, princess, please. you’re gonna pass out.” rafe strokes over your back, trying to encourage you to get some sort of control on your sobs, but the sweetness of his touch, so counter to what you’ve felt from him before, has you choking on your breath.

“hey-fuck, your lips are turning blue. calm down, please.” rafe says after pulling your head away from his chest once you stopped making noises, your body still shaking with tears pouring down your face.

“fuck.” rafe groans, not knowing what to do to make you relax enough to breath, so he does the only thing he can think of and presses his mouth against yours, moving his lips until you kiss him back, taking a deep breath through your nose as you slide your lips against his, gasping and getting more air in your lungs with he licks his tongue out against your bottom lip, asking for permission.

“rafe, what the fuck?” you ask, but your voice is soft and mumbled, still recovering.

“i needed some way to calm you down.” rafe shrugs, acting far too casual for someone who just made out with you on the side of the road, sat on the sidewalk.

“this doesn’t mean i like you now.” you state, although you are thankful for the kiss, it pulled you very quickly of whatever spiral you were going down.

“of course not.” rafe nods. “even if i was a good kisser.”

“i never said that.” you frown, looking down to realize that you’re still sitting on rafes lap. you stand on shaky legs, annoyed that rafe so effortlessly stands up next to you, like he is completely unaffected.

“come on, you can stay at my house. or i can give you a ride to popes or kiaras. just… i’m not leaving you out here.”

“you can take me to popes.” you say, noting how dark its gotten and really not wanting to walk the rest of the way.

rafe opens the passenger side door, and you climb up into his truck, resisting the word to insult the stupidity of the height, considering rafe did just save you from a panic attack and is now giving you a ride.

“where do you live? is it that blue cottage?” rafe asks once he starts the car and begins the drive, leaving you to recover for a few minutes before questioning you.

“yeah, why?” you question.

“just going to have a chat with your dad.” rafe says, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

“rafe-” you turn to him. “please don’t do anything. i can take care of it on my own, i don’t need some kook coming into my business-” “fucking stop with the kooks and pogues!” rafe shouts, not caring that you flinch this time, wanting the words to hurt. “i don’t fucking care about that when it comes to you, why can’t you see that princess?”

“stop the car.” you tell rafe.

“no, i’m taking you to popes.” rafe argues back.

“no, stop the car because i want to fucking kiss you again!” you say, body pressing forward against your seatbelt when rafe quickly presses the brake to the floor. he undoes his seatbelt as you undo yours, meeting in the middle as your lips crash together, and the kiss is anything but soft, an epic meeting of teeth and tongue as you both fight for dominance.

rafe wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you in closer until you have to move one leg over his lap to straddle him, letting your bodies mold together as you moan into his mouth, your hands grabbing at his hair, and then gliding down to feel the cords of muscle on his neck, the firmness of his shoulders.

“you drive me fucking wild, princess.” rafe says against your lips, taking your bottom lip into his teeth and giving it a tug.

“i take it back, rafe. take me to your house.” rafe smiles, giving you another quick peck before you separate, but this time you stay in the center seat, rafes hand firmly on your thigh as he speeds towards tanneyhill.

“don’t think this means i’m not going to talk to your dad.” rafe says as he gets closer.

“it’s fine, really.” you say. “he was just drunk, he doesn’t drink very often.”

“princess, he hurt you. you deserve to feel safe in your own home.” rafe explains as he puts the car into park, quickly shutting off the engine. “or i can just kidnap you and keep you here with me. turn you full kook.” he smirks, hands gripping your waist and bringing your lips together.

“never gonna happen, cameron.” you smile against his mouth. “pogue for life.”

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honeyhae-svt · 2 months ago

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hiii, I love your works so much and I couldn't help but to read them over and over! so may I please req actor reader x actor jeonghan but if you don't want to do it it's fine it's up to you but if you're going to do it I'm going to thank you very much!, ily🤍

Second Lead, First Choice

Yoon Jeonghan x F!Reader

Genre: smut, actor x actor, second lead x male lead, rivals to lovers(?), fake friends, unrequited love, jealousy, angst, dark romance, modern au, slowburn, toxic relationships, obsession, manipulation, betrayal, power imbalance, nsfw (18+), forbidden romance, possessive behavior, softdom!jeonghan, sub!reader, fluff (?), revenge, and emotional turmoil. (minors are NOT welcome. stay out.) warnings: explicit smut (18+), obsessive behavior, manipulation, mild dub-con, filming without consent (non-public), unhealthy relationships, slowburn tension, power dynamics, jealousy, angst-heavy themes, dark plot twists, possessive behavior, and mentions of betrayal. smut warnings: explicit sexual content, public/semi-public sex, fingering, vaginal penetration, oral fixation (kissing, biting), dom/sub dynamics (soft dom jeonghan, sub reader), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, slight breeding kink implications (mentions of cumming inside), slight cockwarming, mild praise kink ("good girl"), use of dirty talk, mentions of squirting and unproctected sex (wrap that boner !!) preview: You never expected to find yourself locking horns with Yoon Jeonghan, the nation’s beloved leading man. Being cast as the second lead was bad enough, but sharing the screen—and off-camera moments—with him tests every ounce of your patience. Jeonghan is intoxicating, infuriating, and far too good at blurring the lines between acting and reality. His touch lingers longer than it should, his whispers send shivers down your spine, and his smirk hides secrets you’re desperate to uncover. But behind the glamour lies a dark game of power, manipulation, and obsession that threatens to unravel everything you’ve worked for. It was never just about the spotlight—or even revenge. Now, every glance, every word, and every forbidden kiss carries consequences neither of you are ready to face. wc: 7773 a/n: im sorry it took me months to finish ! i hope i make it up to you by this, and please do enjoy. (i write too many stuffs before getting to the real stuffs. sorry not sorry lmao) THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING !

"CUT!" the director's voice boomed across the set, signaling the end of the take. Jeonghan pulled back from the female lead, Hye-soo, his face carefully neutral despite the exhaustion tugging at his features. He tried not to grimace as he stepped away, running a hand through his styled hair. The bright lights, the endless retakes, and the physical closeness—it was all too much for him today.

On the sidelines, you sat perched on a folding chair, clapping your hands softly in a show of support. "Good work!" you called out cheerfully, your voice cutting through the hum of the bustling set. You'd wrapped your own scene hours ago, but instead of heading home to rest, you stayed to watch him.

Jeonghan noticed you immediately. It didn't matter that there were dozens of people milling about—his gaze found yours like a magnet. And for the first time all day, he felt a flicker of relief. If only you were the female lead. If only it were you standing in front of the camera with him, sharing the screen and the story. The thought had crossed his mind far too often, lingering in ways he wasn't sure he could hide anymore.

He walked toward you, his usual easygoing smile faltering at the edges. It was subtle, but you caught it. Even through his perfectly sculpted persona, you could tell he wasn't feeling his best.

"You did well," you said when he reached you, your voice softer now. Your hand lightly brushed against his as you stood, the gesture so casual and natural that no one else might have noticed. But he did.

Jeonghan looked at you, his heart thudding a little harder at the warmth in your expression. You were smiling sweeter than usual—just a tiny shift, but enough to send his thoughts spinning. He knew that look, the way your eyes sparkled when you wanted something.

Without saying a word, he took your hand, holding it for just a second longer than necessary before his lips curved into a faint smirk. "You're too nice to me," he teased lightly, though his voice was quieter than usual.

"You deserve it," you replied simply, squeezing his hand.

Jeonghan tilted his head slightly, leaning just enough so that your faces were closer. His voice dropped lower, almost conspiratorial. "You're the main character of my life," he murmured, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

The confession hung in the air, delicate and fragile, but he didn't give you the chance to respond. Instead, he gently tugged you by the wrist, leading you toward a nearby hallway where the noise of the set faded into the background.

He pushed open the door to an empty dressing room and pulled you inside, your lips quirked into a small grin as you cast a glance over your shoulder. There, just outside the hallway, you caught sight of Hye-soo, her expression a mixture of irritation and disbelief as she watched Jeonghan whisk you away, before he shut the door softly behind you.

The satisfaction was instant, your grin widening as you turned your attention back to Jeonghan. His eyes searched yours, an unspoken question lingering in their depths.

"Someone's jealous," you whispered, a playful lilt in your tone.

"Let her be," Jeonghan replied, his gaze dropping briefly to where your hand still rested against his arm. "I only care about you."

Jeonghan caught your lips into a deep, deep kiss. His hands finding your waist, kissing you hungrily like he's never before. You gladly let him, kissing back with precision, catching up with his desperate kisses.

Four months ago, the welcoming party was an elaborate spectacle where actors who are casted and crews, glittering lights and clinking glasses, an unspoken contest of charisma and charm playing out in every corner of the opulent ballroom. Jeonghan stood near the director, his expression schooled into polite interest as Hye-soo's melodic laughter rang out beside him. She had been holding court all evening, effortlessly drawing attention to herself, her hand resting possessively on Jeonghan's arm like it was her rightful place.

But Jeonghan barely noticed her.

From the moment you stepped into the room, late enough to make an entrance but not so late as to be rude, his attention was a prisoner to your presence. You hadn't done anything dramatic—there was no sweeping motion or grand gesture. It was simply the way you carried yourself. The flow of your dress, the way it seemed to move with you like an extension of your being. The quiet confidence in your steps, your head held high but your smile understated, as if you knew you didn't need to demand attention; it came to you on its own.

It wasn't just beauty—though you had that in spades. It was something deeper, more magnetic. A natural ease, the kind of charisma that didn't shout for recognition but instead whispered for it, softly and irresistibly.

Jeonghan felt it before he could stop himself—the tightening of his chest, the way his eyes betrayed him by seeking you out even as Hye-soo leaned closer, brushing her arm against his as she spoke. He forced a polite laugh, nodding at whatever she was saying, but his focus was across the room.

And you, as if sensing his gaze, looked up.

Your eyes met his, and for a brief moment, the noise of the ballroom faded into nothingness. You didn't smile right away; you just held his gaze, the faintest quirk of your lips following as though you knew exactly what you were doing to him. It was infuriating, how effortlessly you dismantled his composure with nothing but a look.

Hye-soo's hand on his arm tightened, her laugh becoming just a touch louder as if trying to pull him back. But Jeonghan's thoughts were already elsewhere, his mind circling a question that had been nagging him since the cast list was announced.

Why were you the second lead?

You had everything—beauty that could silence a room, talent that elevated every scene you touched, and a presence so commanding it didn't just complement a story; it shaped it. He'd even asked the director about it once, in a moment of unguarded curiosity.

"She's too perfect," the director had said, a bemused smile on his face. "We needed someone who could challenge stereotypes. Beauty isn't everything, and we're trying to show that. It's about balance, Jeonghan. She's our second lead because she'll redefine what it means to be one."

At the time, Jeonghan had accepted the explanation. It even made sense—logically. But now, watching you glide through the room like you owned it, he couldn't shake the thought that the story needed you at its heart.

As the evening wore on, his fascination deepened. He wasn't the only one who noticed you, of course. By the time he'd taken a sip of his champagne, you were already surrounded. First, a well-known photographer approached, gesturing animatedly as you listened with that soft, knowing smile of yours. Then a manager from a major modeling agency joined the conversation, their posture deferential despite their stature in the industry.

You handled it all with ease, laughing lightly here, tilting your head thoughtfully there, your charisma weaving a web that no one seemed able to resist. Jeonghan felt something strange stir within him—a mixture of pride, admiration, and something heavier, something unfamiliar.

"You should go talk to her," the director said suddenly, his voice breaking through Jeonghan's thoughts.

Jeonghan blinked, glancing at the older man. "What?"

"You've been staring all night," the director said with a chuckle, clapping him on the shoulder. "Might as well make an introduction."

Before Jeonghan could protest, the director was already leading him across the room. Hye-soo followed, her expression tight as she trailed behind, her earlier ease replaced with something sharper.

When they reached you, the director spoke your name warmly, introducing Jeonghan with a familiarity that suggested he'd been waiting for this moment. You turned to face Jeonghan fully, and for the second time that night, his world narrowed to just you.

"It's nice to finally meet you," you said, your voice smooth and melodic, the kind that lingered in the air even after the words had faded.

Jeonghan opened his mouth to respond, but for a brief, embarrassing moment, nothing came out. You smiled at that, a real smile this time, not the polite ones you'd been giving all evening. It was a little crooked, a little playful, and it hit him harder than he wanted to admit.

"Likewise," he managed, his voice quieter than intended.

Hye-soo stepped forward then, her smile a touch too bright, her hand reaching out to touch your arm as she offered some polite compliment. You accepted it graciously, your demeanor unchanging, but Jeonghan saw the way your eyes flickered—sharp, assessing, taking in every detail of her performance.

He didn't know what passed between you in that silent exchange, but when your gaze shifted back to him, something about your expression had changed. It was softer, more amused, like you'd already decided he wasn't worth sharing.

And for the first time that night, Jeonghan smiled—a real one, small and almost shy, but real. Because for reasons he couldn't yet explain, he wanted nothing more than to be worthy of the attention you'd just given him.

The door to the dressing room clicked shut behind you, the muffled chaos of the set fading into a distant hum. Jeonghan's gaze was dark and focused, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced by something more raw, more consuming. You barely had time to catch your breath before his hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him as his lips claimed yours with a fervor that sent your head spinning.

It was a whirlwind—a blur of heat and longing. His fingers slid under the fabric of your top, skimming the bare skin beneath, his touch both electrifying and soothing. You gasped against his lips, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck, anchoring yourself to him as your knees threatened to give out. Jeonghan was gorgeous, unbearably so, and in moments like these, he felt almost unreal.

Your heart pounded wildly, each beat echoing in your ears. It was impossible to reconcile this moment with the doubts you'd carried when you first met him. Back then, you thought he'd barely notice you, that someone like Jeonghan—dazzling, untouchable—would never look at you twice. Yet here you were, his hands roaming your body like he couldn't get enough, his lips moving against yours like you were the air he needed to breathe.

You broke away for a moment, your chest heaving as you tried to steady yourself. But Jeonghan didn't let you get far. His hands tightened around your waist, pulling you back as his lips hovered over yours, the soft warmth of his breath brushing against your skin.

"I can't let her lips stay on mine too long," he murmured, his voice low and rough, a stark contrast to the teasing words. His nose brushed against yours as he leaned in closer, his lips grazing yours lightly before retreating just enough to make you ache for more.

A soft laugh escaped your lips, your fingers threading through his hair as you tilted his face toward yours. "I'll wash them off for you, my love," you whispered, your voice thick with both playfulness and desire. The words barely had time to settle between you before you captured his lips again, pulling him into a kiss that was deeper, hungrier, more desperate than before.

Your tongues tangled in a rhythm that felt instinctual, a dance of passion and unspoken words. His hands roamed freely, tracing the curve of your spine, brushing against the sensitive skin of your waist, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You shivered under his touch, your body pressing closer to his as if proximity alone could satisfy the yearning that consumed you.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" Jeonghan whispered against your lips, his voice trembling just enough to reveal the depth of his emotions. His hands found your hips, gripping them firmly as his forehead pressed against yours. "You drive me insane."

A blush crept up your neck, heat pooling in your chest as you tried to catch your breath. "I could say the same about you," you replied, your voice breathless but steady, your eyes searching his. "You're impossible."

He smirked, that familiar glint of mischief returning to his gaze. "Impossible, huh?" His lips brushed the corner of your mouth, his hands slipping to the small of your back, pulling you impossibly closer. "You're the one who walked into my life and flipped everything upside down."

You wanted to respond, to tease him back, but the intensity in his eyes silenced you. It was a look that made your chest tighten, a look that spoke of feelings too complex to put into words. So instead, you kissed him again, pouring everything you couldn't say into the way your lips moved against his, the way your hands clung to him like he was your lifeline.

Minutes passed, maybe hours—it was impossible to tell. All you knew was the warmth of his touch, the softness of his lips, the way his presence consumed every inch of your awareness. For a fleeting moment, nothing else mattered. Not the set outside, not the chaos of your lives, not even the knowledge that this would complicate everything.

In this room, in his arms, it was just the two of you. And that was enough.

The two of you stepped out of the dressing room, the air between you still charged with the remnants of your stolen moment. Jeonghan's hair was slightly tousled, his lips swollen and redder than usual, while your soft pink lipstick was now smudged, leaving just enough evidence for the curious stares around the set. The whispers were immediate.

It didn't take long for someone to notice, and of course, it had to be Hye-soo. Her eyes darted between you and Jeonghan, narrowing with an intensity that made her look like she was plotting to leap and attack you. She clenched her jaw, her entire body radiating frustration. You, however, were perfectly unbothered.

Pausing mid-step, you turned to Jeonghan and tugged him gently by the arm, making him face you. With the utmost care (and an intentional touch of theatrics), you reached up to fix his disheveled hair.

"You're such a mess," you said playfully, brushing his bangs into place.

Jeonghan smirked, leaning down to your level as if he couldn't resist getting closer. "And whose fault is that?" he teased, swiping his thumb over your lips to clean up the smudged lipstick. The gesture was tender, but there was a flicker of something mischievous in his eyes as he added, "If you're trying to make a statement, you're doing a phenomenal job."

You glanced over your shoulder, catching sight of Hye-soo, who looked seconds away from exploading. "Putting on a show?" Jeonghan whispered, his hands finding your waist like it was second nature.

"Maybe," you replied with a sly smile, purposefully glancing in Hye-soo's direction. The minute your gaze met hers, her expression darkened, and she stormed out of the studio with a huff loud enough to make the crew turn and stare.

Jeonghan chuckled lowly, watching her retreat. "You're dangerous, you know that?"

You shrugged nonchalantly, turning back to him with a lighthearted grin. "Honestly? This isn't even about her anymore. It's about us." You punctuated your words with a quick kiss to his cheek, then pulled away before he could pull you back in.

Just as Jeonghan opened his mouth to respond, the unmistakable sound of someone clearing their throat cut through the air. The two of you turned, and there stood the director, his arms crossed and his eyes narrowing in disapproval.

"Woah," Jeonghan said, feigning surprise as he chuckled nervously. "How long have you been standing there, sir?"

"Long enough," the director replied, visibly irritated. "You two shouldn't be doing this in the middle of the studio. Get a room, will you?"

You suppressed a laugh, but Jeonghan, ever the troublemaker, grinned and replied, "We already did."

Your elbow jabbed him sharply in the stomach before he could elaborate further. "Ow!" he yelped, doubling over slightly, though he was still smirking.

The director pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly like a parent scolding unruly children. "Do you two have any idea how much trouble this could cause for the production? I can already see the headlines: 'Male lead Yoon Jeonghan and second lead Y/N caught in scandalous affair!'" His tone was exasperated, though slightly melodramatic.

That was the final straw—you burst out laughing, the sound bright and carefree, echoing through the studio. Jeonghan froze, his gaze softening as he watched you. His irritation melted away entirely, replaced by a warmth that made him forget anyone else existed.

Your laughter was infectious, and even the director blinked, momentarily disarmed. The entire crew, who had paused to watch the scene unfold, also seemed captivated. It wasn't just Jeonghan who adored you—you had the entire set under your spell.

Jeonghan caught the lingering stares from some of the staff and cast members, their admiration for you clear as day. His expression darkened almost comically, his gaze sweeping the room as if to warn everyone, Back off—she's mine.

Finally regaining his composure, the director shook his head. "You're impossible," he muttered. "If this blows up, I'm blaming you two."

Smiling sweetly, you clasped your hands together like a picture of innocence. "We'll make sure that never happens, our best director-nim," you said, your voice as soothing as a lullaby. Somehow, even the director, who moments ago had been fuming, softened under your charm.

Jeonghan leaned in, muttering under his breath just loud enough for you to hear, "You could get away with murder if you wanted to."

You bit back a grin, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. "Only if you're my partner in crime."

The air outside the studio felt heavy, the crisp breeze doing little to soothe your frayed nerves. You excused yourself from Jeonghan and the director, feigning the need for a breath of fresh air when, in truth, you were looking for her—Hye-soo. She'd been haunting your thoughts ever since the shoot began, her presence always a bitter reminder of the tangled history you shared. You weren't sure what you expected from this conversation, but you had to try. You always had to try.

You found her near the corner of the lot, scrolling on her phone with an air of detachment. Her perfectly styled hair caught the golden light, making her look like the picture-perfect heroine she was cast to be. The sight of her still brought a pang of nostalgia, even after everything. For a moment, you hesitated. Was this worth it? Would she even listen?

"Hye-soo," you called out, your voice steady but soft.

She turned, her expression cool and guarded the moment she saw you. "What do you want?" she asked, her tone sharp enough to cut.

"I just want to talk," you replied, taking a cautious step forward. "Can we please—can we try to fix this? Whatever happened between us, I—"

"Fix this?" she scoffed, lowering her phone to give you her full attention. Her eyes blazed with an anger you hadn't expected. "You think you can fix this? After everything?"

"I've been trying to," you said, your voice trembling slightly. "I've tried to reach out to you, to explain—"

"To explain what? That you're not guilty of anything? That you didn't go behind my back and let people pit us against each other?" She laughed bitterly. "You don't get it, do you? This isn't something you can just apologize for."

Your chest tightened, the weight of her words settling like a stone. "I never wanted any of that. I hated the comparisons, the rumors—it wasn't my fault. You were my best friend, Hye-soo. I didn't ask for any of this."

"And yet, here you are," she snapped, crossing her arms. "The second lead, with Jeonghan wrapped around your finger. Isn't that enough for you?"

Her words stung, but you held your ground. "This isn't about him. It's about us—about how we used to be. Don't you miss that?"

Hye-soo's expression faltered for a moment, a flicker of something soft and familiar crossing her face before it hardened again. "If you want to make it up to me," she said coldly, "then break up with him."

Her demand hit you like a slap. You stared at her, stunned, your heart racing as your blood began to boil. "That's not fair, and you know it," you said, your voice low and trembling with emotion.

"Fair?" she echoed, taking a step closer. "Nothing about this has ever been fair. You were handed everything—"

"I earned it!" you shot back, cutting her off. "You think my life has been easy? That I didn't work for every single thing I have? You know that's not true."

She glared at you, her jaw tightening before she turned on her heel and walked away without another word. You stood there, your chest heaving, your emotions swirling in a chaotic storm.

The memory of her retreating figure lingered as you stared into the distance, your hands balled into fists at your sides. The bitterness between you two hadn't always existed. Once upon a time, Hye-soo was your everything.

The flashback crept in like an unwelcome guest, bringing with it the bittersweet memory of your early days in the industry.

Back then, Hye-soo had been your anchor, your partner-in-crime. You two had been inseparable, bonded over sneaking snacks during strict diets and whispering secrets late into the night. She was the person you looked up to, admired, maybe even loved in a way that you didn't fully understand at the time.

She had always been magnetic—bright, charming, and full of life. It was impossible not to be drawn to her. And for a while, things had been perfect. Until the comparisons started.

It wasn't your fault. At least, that's what you told yourself. You couldn't control how the managers and producers favored you, how they praised your acting skills and visuals. But the more they built you up, the more they tore her down.

At first, Hye-soo acted like it didn't bother her. She'd laugh it off, telling you it was fine, that she didn't care. But you knew her too well. You saw the cracks in her facade, the way her smile didn't quite reach her eyes anymore.

You tried to confront her, to assure her that you didn't want the comparisons either, but the rumors had already started. Whispers about you sleeping with managers and producers to secure your roles spread like wildfire. It was cruel, baseless, and you hated every second of it. But the damage was done.

Hye-soo began pulling away, her warmth replaced by icy indifference. And then, when this project came along, you both fought for the spot. You knew she wanted the role for Jeonghan's sake—her feelings for him were no secret. But no amount of her family's wealth or influence could erase the connection you and Jeonghan had. Even as the second lead, you'd won a part of him that she never could.

The sound of footsteps snapped you back to the present. Turning, you saw Jeonghan approaching, his expression unreadable. He must have seen Hye-soo leaving—or rather, storming away.

He stopped in front of you, his gaze searching your face for answers. "Are you okay?"

You nodded, though the tightness in your chest said otherwise. "She doesn't want to talk."

Jeonghan's jaw tightened slightly, but he didn't press. Instead, he reached out, his hand brushing against your arm in silent comfort.

"I told you this would happen," you admitted quietly, your voice trembling. "That being with me would make everything worse."

Jeonghan shook his head, his gaze softening. "It's not your fault. None of this is."

For a moment, the weight of everything—the past, the present, the impossible tangle of emotions—felt a little lighter. With Jeonghan by your side, you felt a flicker of hope.

"She said I should break up with you," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

"And?" Jeonghan asked, his lips curving into a faint smile.

You looked at him, your heart aching with the intensity of how much you loved him. "That's not an option."

Jeonghan's smile deepened, and there was a warmth in his eyes that made the air around you feel a little less suffocating. He took a small step closer, his presence grounding you in a way you couldn't fully explain. "Good. Because she's not the one you need to be worrying about right now."

You let out a shaky breath, glancing down at the ground for a moment, trying to gather yourself. It was hard to look at Jeonghan without feeling both a sense of relief and a twinge of guilt. Hye-soo's words kept echoing in your mind—If you want to make it up to me, break up with him—but you had already made your choice.

Looking back up at him, you smiled faintly. "I don't know what I expected, honestly. She's changed. We've changed. I never thought it would come to this."

Jeonghan's fingers brushed against your cheek, his touch so gentle that it almost felt like a promise. "Sometimes people change, but that doesn't mean you have to. You're not the person she's trying to make you out to be. Don't let her take away your peace."

His words were like a balm for the wound Hye-soo had left. You swallowed, feeling the weight on your chest slowly lift. Jeonghan was right—this wasn't your fault. But the pain of losing Hye-soo, of watching the bond you once shared with her unravel, still cut deeply.

"It's just... hard, you know? I never wanted to lose her." You looked up at him, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I don't think I can keep pretending that everything's okay when it's not."

Jeonghan's eyes softened even further, and he placed both hands on your shoulders, steadying you. "You don't have to pretend with me. And you don't have to do anything you don't want to do. You've got me, always."

For a moment, there was silence between you two. The weight of the past few months—the rumors, the lies, the rivalry, the betrayal—hung thick in the air, but Jeonghan's presence made it feel bearable. He wasn't just standing by you; he was anchoring you, in a way only he could.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked quietly, his gaze not leaving yours. "The rumors, the truth... whatever you need to say, I'm here."

You swallowed again; your throat tight with the emotions you'd kept hidden for so long. "I don't want to drag you into it... but it feels like everything I've worked for has been overshadowed by rumors that I can't control. I've done everything by the book, Jeonghan. I've worked so hard to get here, and now it feels like everyone's just waiting for me to fall."

Jeonghan shook his head, his hands gently cupping your face as he forced you to meet his gaze. "Listen to me. I know who you are. I know what you've been through. And I know how much you've sacrificed to get to this point. Don't let anyone's words—especially hers—make you doubt that. You're not alone in this. I'm not going anywhere."

Tears welled in your eyes, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you let them fall. You didn't care. Not anymore. Not when Jeonghan was holding you like this, as if you mattered more than anything else in the world.

"I just... I feel like everything's falling apart," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Hye-soo, the rumors, even my own family. I don't know who to trust anymore."

Jeonghan's thumb gently wiped away a tear, his expression soft but unwavering. "You trust me. And I trust you."

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes as the weight of everything seemed to melt away, if only for a moment. His words were like a quiet promise, a reassurance that despite all the chaos around you, there was one thing you could count on—him.

You finally opened your eyes again, meeting his gaze with renewed resolve. "I'm sorry, Jeonghan. For everything."

He smiled, the corners of his lips curving up in that familiar, reassuring way. "There's nothing to apologize for. We're in this together. You don't have to face it alone."

For a long moment, you simply stood there, enveloped in his warmth, the world outside fading away. Hye-soo, the rumors, the industry—they all seemed distant now. Because right here, in this moment, you had Jeonghan. And that was all that mattered.

A few days later, you found yourself once again in the studio, the weight of the past still lingering, but a quiet sense of peace settling within you. Jeonghan had been right there by your side every step of the way, offering unwavering support when things felt impossible.

The shoot was going smoother now, though the tension with Hye-soo was still palpable. She avoided you at every turn, and the coldness between you two lingered in the air like an unspoken challenge. But you no longer cared.

As you prepared for the next scene, Jeonghan leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear. "You're amazing, you know that?"

You turned to face him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. "You really think so?"

"I know so," he said softly, his fingers brushing against your hand. "Don't ever forget that."

The connection between you two was undeniable. And in that moment, as you shared a quiet, knowing smile, you realized that everything else could fall away—but this, this bond, was something that would never break.

The sound of bustling voices fades as you and Jeonghan slip away from the chaos of the shoot, finding yourselves in a secluded, dimly lit lounge area. The atmosphere is heavy with the weight of unsaid words, the quiet hum of the room pressing down on you both. You're sitting close on the couch, but the space between you seems like miles. The room smells faintly of leather and wood, the faint scent of cologne lingering in the air from where Jeonghan leans in a little too close.

You both start talking about the shoot, trying to keep things light, but the tension is palpable. It's as if every word you speak makes the air thicker, more suffocating. You catch him glancing at your lips a few too many times, but each time you meet his gaze, you notice how his eyes darken, his pupils dilating just a little. The subtle but undeniable spark between you two has always been there. Today, it's dangerously close to setting everything on fire.

You reach for your glass of water, your hand brushing against his as you both move at the same time. It's subtle. An innocent touch. But the moment your skin makes contact with his, everything changes.

His fingers freeze for a split second, the warmth from his hand making your skin burn. You pull away instinctively, but the damage has already been done. The soft touch, the heat from his hand, lingers on your skin like an invisible brand. You swear you can still feel it even though the touch is long gone. Your heart skips a beat, your breath catching slightly in your throat as you glance up to meet his gaze.

His hand is still hovering near where you touched. His chest rises and falls in shallow breaths, as if trying to regain control of the situation. His lips part slightly as if he's about to say something, but no words come out. Instead, there's just a sharp, silent acknowledgment in his eyes.

The tension between you two is unbearable now.

Jeonghan shifts slightly in his seat, and his gaze flicks down to your lips for a fraction of a second. It's as if he can't help it. He swallows hard, his jaw tightening. It's clear he's fighting something—fighting the urge to pull you in, to kiss you, to close the space between you that feels too far apart.

You don't move, frozen in the moment, feeling your body heat up in ways you hadn't expected. His breath hitches as he leans just a little closer, his body language unmistakable. You can't ignore it any longer. The undeniable pull between you two has taken on a life of its own, and you're both powerless to resist it.

"Jeonghan..." You whisper his name like it's a question, but it comes out more like an invitation.

His breath catches again, his lips barely an inch from your ear. You feel the heat of his body close to yours, the warmth radiating off him, as he leans in even further, his breath hot against your skin. His lips graze the shell of your ear as he whispers softly, "Do you feel it too?" His voice is low, barely a whisper, but it sends a thrill through you.

You don't answer him with words. Instead, you let your body answer for you, shifting slightly toward him, tilting your head back just enough to give him the opening he's been waiting for.

Jeonghan's lips brush against your neck, soft at first, but with a slow, deliberate pressure that sends shivers down your spine. He's testing the waters, sensing the way your body reacts to his touch, and it's driving you crazy.

He grabs the glass of water you were holding, placing it back on the table without pulling away from you or your body.

His hand moves from the edge of the couch where it had been resting, coming to rest on your thigh. He doesn't move it at first, just leaves it there, the pressure of his hand causing your skin to burn beneath the fabric. It's a gentle touch, but you feel it deep in your core, your body reacting almost involuntarily.

You shift slightly, your breath quickening as you feel him slowly inch his hand further up your thigh, his fingers brushing the sensitive skin there. Every small movement from him feels like an invitation, and you can't resist anymore. You lean forward just slightly, your lips finding his in a kiss that's soft at first but quickly grows deeper, more desperate.

His hand slides from your thigh to your waist, pulling you closer as he kisses you harder. You can taste the urgency on his lips, the need that's been building for far too long now.

His other hand moves to the back of your neck, threading through your hair and gently pulling your head back, exposing your throat to him. His lips follow, trailing soft kisses down your neck, before they return to your lips in another searing kiss.

You can feel his heart beating against your chest, and you can't help but want more, the desire building between you two like a slow burn that's finally breaking through.

Jeonghan's lips pull away from yours for a brief moment, his breath coming in shallow gasps. "Are you sure?" he asks, his voice rough with desire. It's a question, but his eyes already tell you he's certain of the answer. He doesn't need to hear the words; he can see it in your eyes, the way you're looking at him, the way you're holding him closer.

You nod, your fingers gripping his shirt as you pull him back toward you. Your lips meet again, this time more fiercely, more urgently. You're both hungry for each other, the restraint that had held you back now gone.

Jeonghan's hands are everywhere—on your back, your hips, your legs. His touch is both gentle and possessive, as if he wants to savor every inch of you but also claim you as his own. You can't help but respond to his every move, every touch, your body betraying you as you lean into him, giving him more of yourself.

His lips find their way back to your neck, trailing kisses along your jaw and down to your collarbone. The way his lips feel against your skin, the pressure of his touch, sends waves of pleasure through you. His hand moves lower, resting on your waist before slipping under your shirt, his fingers brushing against your bare skin.

You gasp as his hand moves higher up to the inner of your thighs, and you spread your legs open, his touch insistent but slow, savoring every moment. His lips return to yours, and the kiss deepens, filled with the hunger and need that you've both been holding back for far too long.

He moves your skirt up, now feeling the wetness of your underwear. You muffled in between kisses, with Jeonghan swallowing your every moans. He pulled the fabric off your legs and buried his fingers deep into your cunt, his thumb running circles on your clit.

You shivered under his touch, his fingers working to stretch your already soaked cunt. He fucked your pussy with his fingers well that you were squirming under his touch, sounds escaping from your lips louder.

Jeonghan had to shut you up with him kissing your lips. Once you reached your high, cumming all over his fingers, he unbuttons his pants down and you can see the tip of his cock glimmering with precum. "I'm going to put it in, stay quiet this time."

You swallowed hard before nodding. He placed his cock on your clit, giving it a few rubbing before slowly inserting it fully in your cunt. "F- fuck..." He grunted, his head spinning because the way he slid in you almost too easily was too hard to miss. You covered your mouth, not risking being caught by someone again like the last time.

"J- Just put it in," you muffled out, but Jeonghan didn't listen.

"Can't have you begging me to stop later," he whispered, his fingers stretching you out, making it impossible to hold out your moans. Jeonghan just had to kiss your sounds—as much as he wants to hear you make those sounds of pleasure, he just can't. Well, not at a public space like this. It's possible that someone will eventually step in.

As he pulled his fingers out, he pulls his pants down just enough for his cock to be freed. It was long, and hard as ever. Jeonghan places the tip of his cock on your clit, rubbing it in your pussy before entering you fully.

You moaned, with Jeonghan trying to quiet you down. "Shhh... Damn it."

"I- W- wait," you muffled, your cunt twitching on his cock. "I can't." Jeonghan replied, moving his hips in slow thrusts. "Your walls are swallowing me whole. You're awesome."

His hips moved a little faster this time. You were breathless. Jeonghan has you pinned down on the couch, fucking you now roughly while you hold back the sounds from coming out of your mouth.

The sound of skin slapping, your pussy squirming and squelching when you meet his hard thrusts, and muffled moans filling the room. When your walls started to tighten around his dick, that's when he lets out grunts.

Jeonghan thrusted in your cunt, burying himself inside you like never before. He was fighting hard to meet his highs, and yours too.

You cum all over his dick before him, but that wasn't enough for him to pull away. He ran circles on your clit, his tongue all over your neck as he finally reaches his own high.

Cumming, he lifted your shirt as he took his hot load on your stomach. Your cunt glistened with your own fluids.

"You're amazing," Jeonghan says as he looked at the quivering mess underneath him. Your hair disheveled, cheeks all red looking so pretty like that.

You pushed him before straddling on his lap. "Let me take care of you," you muttered, kissing him immediately right afterwards, leaving him no room to respond.

Him already hard cock springs up again and leaks with precum as you fucked him with your soft thighs. His cock twitching as you rocked your hips back in forth. Rubbing yourself on his cock, hips shaking as you overstimulate yourself above him.

And that's when you finally entered him. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head as Jeonghan looked at you with awe.

He lifted your shirt, unclipped your bra as he finds your nipples, kissing and nipping on the sensitive skin there, making you let out a moan. He didn't stop you this time. Who cares if you get caught.

You finally bounced on him, making Jeonghan pant breathlessly. His eyes focused on the way your tits were bouncing before him so sinfully—he loved how you took control over him. Especially when he knew you wouldn't do something like this in a public space.

Jeonghan kissed your lips as you grind yourself further into his cock, reaching the depths of heaven. Jeonghan held your hips in place before cumming inside you, the mix of your cum and his blending perfectly as it coated your walls.

Your head fell down on Jeonghan's shoulder. Catching your breath as he clips your bra back, cleaning your messy body. His fingers moving to the soft of your hair as if to soothe you off.

"You did well," he whispered, planting a kiss on your cheek. He didn't let you pull away from his cock just yet. He wanted to feel your warmth covering his cock. Just by the feeling of your gummy, hot pussy made him hard again, and your tried to squirm away, but Jeonghan didn't let you.

He rocked your hips slowly as he grunted with lust. Moaning as he felt you pussy twitching. "J- Jeonghan... Wait..." You called out, finding his shoulder to bite into his shoulder as he moves you a little faster now.

"Last... one..." He muttered; his breathing heavy as he slides in your cunt a little rougher.

With a few more pounds and squirms, he finally cums in you again, with you passing out on his arms right after you squirted three times on his cock.

The room was heavy with the aftermath of passion, the air thick with warmth and the lingering scent of Jeonghan's cologne mixed with your own. Your body was draped against him, utterly spent, your breathing shallow as you rested in his arms. His hands traced lazy patterns along your bare back, his touch possessive, yet oddly tender. You felt the faint thrum of his heartbeat against your cheek, steady and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world.

Jeonghan, finally contended, ran his fingers through your hair, lulling you deeper to sleep as he uses your pussy to warm his cock.

You barely registered his quiet chuckle, the sound sending a faint shiver down your spine. Your mind was hazy, the weight of exhaustion pulling you under. You were vaguely aware of his body still connected to yours, his warmth anchoring you as your consciousness started to slip away.

"Good girl," he whispered, his voice low and laced with something darker, something triumphant. He brushed a strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear as he studied you with an intensity that made your skin prickle, even in your half-dazed state.

You stirred faintly, murmuring something incoherent, but Jeonghan only smiled. "Shh," he cooed softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "You've worked so hard, my love. Rest now."

And you did, succumbing to the pull of sleep, blissfully unaware of the way his gaze shifted, how his expression turned from soft affection to something far more sinister.

The soft click of a door opening pulled Jeonghan's attention, though he didn't move. He didn't need to. He knew exactly who it was.

"Good job, Hyesoo," he called out casually, his voice smooth and unbothered. His fingers skimmed along your bare skin one last time before resting on your hip, his touch possessive as he glanced up.

Hyesoo stepped into the room, her face a carefully constructed mask of indifference. In her hands was a camera, and she held it out to him silently. Jeonghan smirked, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he took it, already eager to see the results.

"She's full of my scent," he murmured, his voice low and almost reverent as his gaze shifted back to your sleeping form. His pupils dilated as he took in every detail of you—the flush on your cheeks, the marks he'd left on your skin, the way your body was still connected to his, as if even in unconsciousness, you belonged to him. "I'll save this picture in my head forever."

Hyesoo said nothing, her jaw tightening slightly as she turned away. She didn't need to watch him replay the footage; she already knew what was there. She had filmed it herself, after all. Jeonghan's obsession was no secret to her—it never had been. And yet, she stayed by his side, playing her role in his elaborate scheme.

Jeonghan leaned back against the couch, his free hand absently brushing over your arm as he scrolled through the clips. Each one was a masterpiece to him, a testament to his control, his possession of you. He watched them over and over, his expression shifting between adoration and something far darker.

"You're mine," he whispered, more to himself than anyone else. The words were both a promise and a declaration, one he had ensured would be true no matter what.

Jeonghan's smirk deepened as he reviewed the footage one last time before setting the camera aside. Everything had gone exactly as he had planned.

From the moment he saw you, he had known you were meant to be his. But he also knew you wouldn't come to him willingly, not at first. So, he orchestrated everything—down to the finest detail.

Hyesoo had been a key player, pretending to be your friend, earning your trust only to betray it when the time was right. The rumors about you? All planted. The whispers about your connections to the higher-ups, the way people started to question your integrity—it had all been his doing. He needed you vulnerable, isolated, desperate enough to turn to him.

And it had worked. Every step, every move, had brought you closer to this moment. To him.

Even your role as the second lead in the film had been a calculated choice. He had pushed for it, knowing it would keep you close, knowing it would force you to rely on him as the chaos of the industry swirled around you.

"You really are perfect," he murmured, his fingers brushing over your cheek. "Even better than I imagined."

Hyesoo shifted uncomfortably in the corner of the room, her arms crossed as she avoided his gaze. She had agreed to help him, but even she hadn't anticipated the extent of his obsession. Watching it unfold, seeing the lengths he was willing to go—it made her stomach twist.

But she stayed silent. She always did.

Jeonghan glanced up at her, his smile sharp. "You've done well, Hyesoo," he said, his tone dripping with condescension. "Don't think I've forgotten how valuable you've been to me."

Hyesoo's jaw tightened, but she nodded, her expression betraying nothing. She knew better than to challenge him. Not when he held all the power.

As you slept peacefully in his arms, Jeonghan allowed himself a moment of indulgence. He had won. Everything he had ever wanted was now his.

And he wasn't about to let you go.

Not now. Not ever.

a/n: thank you for reading. the plot isnt plotting cause like.. wtf did i just do? i shouldve just put a smut with no actual plot lmao. anyhow i hope reader likes it ! lmk if i missed a few waqrnings or what i should add on the tags/genre. ty ! LY! ᓚᘏᗢ

also, huge thank you for @ririesna who requested for this fanfic idea (actor x actor). without her req, i wouldnt be able to post anything at all. im open for requests, if you want to leave some, i will be posting.

i just made a taglist for oneshots (general groups)? click this link if you want to be added ;)

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dambaepuff · 8 months ago

Note

hey hi, could i make a request? Im happy to see another good author starting :) u also seem very nice. could i request a yoongi x preferably fem!reader? if you want you can make it a genderneutral fic. my idea was a scenario were one of them is jealous, i thought of it being her jealous of him, over something stupid, but not in a toxic way like yk just pure jealusy mixed with insecurities. And they have a little petty argument and like it ends with smut i mean they make up to eachother that way :P like smut mixed with fluff at its purest. also, i am really curious to see how u write yoongi, i see many authors making him cold and tough but i believe that he is a very caring softie haha, by the morning wood headcanons, i think you got him very well ;) thank u in advance

REGRETS (m)

Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x FEM!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, smut, one shot, request, established relationship

Warnings: jealousy, insecurities, a petty argument, depictions of sex, crying, emotional, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, bodily fluids, penetration (vaginal), a bit of praise, light biting, squirting

Word count: 5k

Summary: uhhh idk dude just read the request that’s pretty much it

A/N: UGH I LOVE THIS IDEA!! I don’t have much experience with writing angst so this was a really nice exercise. Thank you sooo so much for all the kind words, it’s what keeps me writing. I’m also a sucker for soft Yoongi so this is right up my alley. (Also this is not proofread so lmk if there’s any mistakes or anything)

Thursday night, it’s quiet outside. You’re trying to watch a movie with Yoongi. Key word trying. His hand has been gently rubbing your thigh for a few minutes now, whenever he tries sliding it up to tease you, you grab it and put it back onto his lap. He’s clearly trying to get you heated, but it’s having quite the opposite effect. Lately you’ve felt quite out of it, your lack of confidence causing you to avoid intimacy. With Yoongi being the gentleman he is, he always accepts it when he realizes you’re not in the mood and he moves on. However, you’re starting to doubt his ability to keep going like this. What if he realizes you aren’t satisfactory to him anymore? He could easily find someone else who would be all over him in seconds.

Replaceable. That’s how you’ve been feeling lately. He could have anyone he wants, so why you? “Are you not feeling it tonight?” Yoongi’s voice startles you out of your thoughts. “Huh? Oh. No I’m sorry.” You respond, your voice growing quieter with the end of the sentence. “That’s okay, c’mere.” He mumbles before pulling you into his chest, his hand soothing down your back.

‘Will he stay with me if I keep pushing him away like this?’ Is what you keep asking yourself. On one hand you’re afraid he’ll stop loving you if you stop showing him affection. And on the other hand, you’ve been so self conscious lately about your body and if you’re doing things right you don’t know if it’s worse to ruin the relationship by pushing him away or by not being good enough. ‘Do I even deserve to be with him at this point?’

Friday, 4:37PM. You got off work early today so you decided to stop by Yoongi’s studio. He’s still working so you’re lounging around on one of the couches inside of the room. The two of you had made plans to get dinner together when he finishes up for the day which you’re really looking forward to.

A short blurry figure appears at the studio door, they raise their hand up and place three quiet knocks onto the glass. Yoongi gets up with a huff and opens the door. In front of him stands a familiar woman, you can’t quite remember her name, but you’ve seen her around the company building before.

“Here’s your coffee Suga!” She says in a cheery tone. Her eyes land on you and her smile falls a bit. “Oh, I didn’t know you would be here. Sorry I didn’t get you anything.” She apologizes with a light bow of her head. You dismiss her with a wave of your hand before going back to fidgeting with the hem of your sweater. She turns her attention back to Yoongi who is setting his drink down onto his desk. “Hey Suga, a few of us are going to that barbecue place down the street for dinner and drinks tonight. Do you guys wanna come with?” She asks with a tilt of her head, her long black hair swaying with the movement.

“Uhh, yeah?” He looks at you quickly for confirmation to which you nod your head lightly. “Yeah. Sure we’ll come.”

Yoongi continues chatting with the girl. She casually leans against the door frame, the conversation between them flowing oh so easily. ‘It took me ages to be able to talk to him that smoothly. Why couldn’t I be like her?’ You think to yourself, trying your best to not let your irritation show.

He bids her farewell and sits back down at his desk. For the remaining time you spend in his studio all you can look at is him. Your gaze burns holes into his side profile, tracing each curve of his features over and over again. Why would a man whose heart only knows kindness, whose eyes and soul are so understanding of everything be with you? Your being is rotten with unforgiving bitterness, you seethe at every imperfection like a nun enraged by sin. Why would he want you?

He’s like a wild flower. He needs to be pollinated by the love and kindness of a bee to bloom, yet he stays with you, a caterpillar feeding off of him, biting off his flesh for your gain. Eating away at him and leaving nothing. Maybe you aren’t even a caterpillar. They can eventually turn into a beautiful creature with wings of eyeful colors, yet you can’t become anything more than what you are. You’re stuck in a vicious cycle, devouring every resource without paying any mind to the fact there will be nothing left when you’re done. What does he get for loving you if you can’t be of use? You can’t make him bloom.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N)!” You snap out of your thoughts, the reality around you giving you whiplash. Yoongi is kneeling in front of you, holding your jacket out. “Let’s go, we’ll be late.” You try to take it from his hands, but instead of giving it to you he holds it up so you can slip your arms inside. Once it’s on you he turns you around and zips it up for you. “Okay, let’s go.”

As you’re walking down the long hallways towards the elevators, Yoongi notices something odd. You usually grab onto his hand the moment you start walking somewhere together, but your hand is tucked away in your pocket now. He gently pulls it out and intertwines your fingers together. You can’t bring yourself to grip onto him like usual, instead you limply keep your hand at your side, letting him hold it. He’s a bit confused by this, but nevertheless he keeps holding you, his grasp only growing tighter in an effort to reassure you.

Yang Sunhee. Her name popped up in your head the moment she sat down across from you and Yoongi at the long wooden table. She’s been leading the conversation at your part of the table for a while now, mostly talking to Yoongi. To her credit she has tried to include you into the conversation a few times, but you didn’t really give her much to work with so she gave up.

You’ve been pushing your food around your plate for a while now. It’s mostly pieces of meat Yoongi placed down onto it for you, your favorite in fact. You just can’t get yourself to even place anything into your mouth, anxiety squeezing your throat so tightly you can barely even swallow your own saliva.

Sunhee is laughing at something, her eyes bright and her large smile hidden away behind a polite hand. Yoongi is laughing too, maybe not as hard as her, but he’s still laughing. ‘Why am I not the one making him laugh right now? Am I not funny anymore?’

As you’re glaring down at your food you feel a warm hand make contact with your shoulder. “You wanna go home?” Yoongi asks quietly, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “Yes please.” You breathe out, barely audible. On the drive home Yoongi tries asking what’s wrong multiple times, but all he gets in response is a simple “I just don’t feel too well.”

It’s been a few days now since you had dinner with Yoongi’s coworkers. He realized something was wrong so he’s been giving you some space. To be quite honest you aren’t sure if the space is helping or making it worse. After spending the whole day quietly sobbing to yourself in bed you decide to see what he’s up to. You find him sitting in the living room watching some sort of documentary and looking like he’s about to fall asleep. One of his cheeks is squished against a pillow and his hair is going on all the wrong directions. He looks adorable, your heart almost breaks in two knowing this is who you’ve been pushing away lately.

Taking a seat next to him, he lifts up his blanket so you can use it too. Just as you’re getting sleepy as well his phone pings on the coffee table. Instinctively you reach down for it so you can hand it to him, but when you see the contact name annoyance squeezes at your chest.

Yang Sunhee

Sent a message

“Why is she texting you?” The question slips from your mouth before you can even think it through. “I don’t know, let me see.” He responds while extending his hand out for the phone. You peer over at the screen, shamelessly trying to see what she sent. “Ah it’s just the schedule for next week.” He says and likes the message before setting his phone back down. Now you feel a bit guilty. Why were you questioning the intentions of this woman? She’s his employee after all.

Yoongi’s large hand comes up to cup your face, his thumb gently gliding over your cheekbone. “I know that look, what’s wrong baby?” He asks, his dark eyes skimming your face in search for answers. “It’s nothing.” You respond a bit too quickly, your tone stiff. The corner of Yoongi’s lip quirks up. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

Your eyes shoot open, “N-no!” you sputter out a weak defense. His hand slides down to your chin, the grip tightening a bit. His smirk spreads into a smile which angers you. He thinks this is funny?

“Don’t fucking touch me right now.” You say in a way harsher manner than you intended, tearing his hand away from your face. A flash of hurt runs over Yoongi’s face, his smile instantly falling. “Don’t look at me like that! I just- I need a moment right now.” You say in an apologetic tone. “You need a moment? I’ve been giving you a moment for days now. What about me? I keep trying so hard and you don’t show an ounce of being grateful. What’s your problem?” His tone gets louder as he talks, anger evident in his facial expressions.

“Problem? Oh it’s a problem now that I can’t always feel one hundred percent happy? Go sleep with some happy drugged out whore then if that’s what you want!” Without realizing it your tone has risen to a yell, you’re standing now, no longer in the comfort of warm blankets on the couch. “Don’t yell at me!” He yells back, tears beginning to brim his eyes.

“You’re yelling too asshole! Oh you’re gonna cry? Go cry to Sunhee, maybe she can suck your dick to make it better if you can’t go a week without me sucking it!” The moment you finish the last sentence a silence falls over the apartment. Yoongi stares at you wide eyed, unable to form a single sentence.

He looks like a kicked puppy, his eyes watery and his hands trembling. Realizing you went to far the only thing that pops up in your head is leaving the apartment for a bit. You speed walk to the front door, tugging your shoes on quickly and pulling a random jacket on. “Hey, hey! Where are you going?” Yoongi follows you once he realizes what you’re doing. Unable to look at his face you grab your keys and walk out, slamming the door behind you.

Not knowing where to go you walk to the nearest park. Taking a seat on one of the benches you stare up at the moon. “Why did I say that?” You mumble to yourself, tears stinging at your eyes. Your throat contracts, guilt choking you. There’s no holding back now, you let your sobs loose, tears running down your face uncontrollably.

“(Y/N)? Is that you?” A soft voice calls out to your right. Your head shoots up, trying to find the source of the sound. There stands Sunhee, she seems to be in her pajamas with a puffer jacket thrown on top. Her hair is a mess and she’s holding a leash. A little white dog sniffs around near her legs, you assume it’s her’s.

“What’s wrong?” She asks as she sits down next to you. “Ah don’t worry about it.” You mumble, sniffling lightly. “You’re so pretty (Y/N), I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone look good while they cry before.” Sunhee says with a genuine smile. “I- uh what?” You tilt your head to the side in confusion. “If I didn’t have a girlfriend I’d be jealous of Suga for having a girlfriend as pretty as you.” She giggles lightly.

“WHAT?” The question comes out harsher than you intend, the whole situation confusing you. “Listen, if you ever leave Suga just give me a call.” She says with a playful wink. You laugh in disbelief, your tears completely gone now. “You’re funny Sunhee.” You say, still sniffling lightly. “I’m not joking, but thank you.” She giggles along with you.

“Now why are you outside so late?” She asks while pulling her dog up into her lap. “I had a fight with Yoongi, I didn’t really know where else to go. I’m kind of scared to face him right now.” You answer truthfully. “Girl, have you seen how he looks at you? That man is a goner, I’m sure whatever you argued about isn’t that bad. You should go home and apologize, you can talk it through.” She says while giving you an encouraging smile. “You think so?” You ask quietly. “I know so.”

Even with Sunhee’s encouragement you’re still unsure. Guilt wracks through your whole body, pressing down on your insides and making you nauseous. You try to be as quiet as possible when you enter the apartment, but the sound of the heavy front door closing and jingling of keys betrays you. Just as you’re taking your shoes off you hear shuffling down the hallway. Yoongi’s dark figure emerges, you’re ready to hear something nasty from him, but instead you’re met with two warm arms wrapped around you.

“Thank god you’re safe.” He mumbles before kissing the top of your head. “I’m sorry Yoongi, I’m so sorry baby. Please don’t leave me. I didn’t-“ you’re cut off by a hiccup, your tears returning. “I didn’t mean to say any of that. Please, please don’t leave me I’ll never do that again…” You sob into his chest. “Shhhhh, I know you didn’t mean it, I should’ve done some things differently too.” His hand softly pets your head.

“I’ve been trying to figure out why you’ve been acting so weird lately and I think I get it now. You look at her like she killed your dog. You know she’s a lesbian right?” You can’t help but laugh a bit at that. “Yeah I kind of found that out just now.” You mumble, your fingers tangling into the material of his shirt. “Why don’t you like her?” You can feel him softly smile against your hair as he asks the question.

“I don’t know I just-“ You try to form the right words, but they won’t come. “Ugh! She’s just so pretty and she’s really open, it feels like she’s perfect and has everything you could need and I’m just sort of me? I don’t know, it’s stupid. I’m just projecting.” Yoongi listens intently to everything you say while he takes your jacket off. “Lately I’ve felt like the shell of who I was when you met me, you know? I’m just sort of bleh- and every other woman around me seems to have her shit togehter.” A tear runs down your cheek and Yoongi chases it away with his thumb.

“It’s why I’ve been avoiding having sex lately. I just feel gross and ugly while you… you look like you were sculpted by the ancient Greeks. You need a Hera to your Zeus. I’m like a satyr or something!” You let out a bitter laugh, trying to mask your feelings. “Hmm I think we’re more like Orpheus and Eurydice. Except I don’t want to lose you the way he lost her. They were such perfect lovers, yet there was something tragic about them. What’s love without tragedy?” He softly spoke, continuing to wipe your tears. You let out a genuine laugh and hit his chest lightly. “You idiot! You don’t get it.”

“I think I at least partially get it. I mean hell you make my knees weak whenever you look me in the eye woman, and we’ve been dating for years! I’d go to the pits of hell for you a million times more than Orpheus if it meant having a bit more time to spend with you. There’s no other person that could fulfill your role in my life as well as you do. I love you for you, you’re my muse. My light.” He places a ginger peck onto your forehead.

Love and desire suddenly flood through you, grabbing the collar of his shirt you pull him into a rough kiss. A few more tears make their way past your eyelids, but these ones of relief and joy rather than sadness and frustration. Yoongi gladly accepts your advances, kissing you back firmly. He barely wastes any time trying to get his tongue intertwined with yours. Your interwoven muscles becoming a metaphor for your souls combining together, the act of physical intimacy projecting your consciousness into one being, content and whole.

One of your hands shoot up to grip his hair a bit tighter than necessary which makes him release a deep moan. He pants against your lips, trying to catch his breath, but unable to fully separate your bodies. As he had endured yearning for you such a torturous amount, how could he let you go now?

He presses you flat against the door, holding you down chest to chest. His cold hands slide up your shirt, the contrast of temperature making you shiver. Caressing the skin of your stomach so lightly it tickles, he snakes one of his hands behind your back, swiftly unclipping your bralette in one movement. You let it drop to the floor, the only thing on your mind right now being the feeling of his body on yours. With his hands lightly ghosting over your breasts now, you shudder each time one of his fingers brushed against your nipples. Slowly he pulls your shirt off, the cold night air bites at your skin making your nipples harden. Instinctively your arms shoot up to cover yourself, but Yoongi stops you. He firmly grips your wrists and pins them down above your head.

Now fully exposed to him, he looks you in the eyes before licking a fat stripe from the area between your breasts to your neck. Lightly blowing onto the wet part of your skin, you take in a deep breath from the sensation. He begins to trail kisses down to your chest, letting go of your hands so he can bring you as close to him as possible. You tug at his hair softly as he mouthes at ode of your breasts, his tongue lightly teasing the soft bud. He groans softly before kissing down lower so he can get onto his knees.

He kneels before you know, unashamed of the submissive position he’s in. His teeth occasionally graze your stomach between sloppy open mouthed kisses. Looking up at you through his lashes, Yoongi starts undoing your pants. He pushes them down as if they’re getting in the way and moves his kisses down to your thighs. His uncalculated mouth moves dangerously close to your clothed cunt. Hovering over it he purposefully breathes through his mouth so you can feel his warm breath on your skin. You gasp when he suddenly pressed his nose against your pussy and inhales deeply. You can peel the tips of your ears heating up from embarrassment, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to care in the slightest.

“Ugh, fuck how I missed this part of you.” He groans as he kisses over the thin fabric. Finding your clit almost immediately he starts to roll his tongue against it through your panties. Your arousal and his saliva mix together in the material causing an uncomfortable need for real contact.

“Yoongi, take it off already…” you whisper to him, brushing his bangs out of his face. Looking up at you with a cheeky smirk he grabs onto the hem of your underwear with his teeth, making sure to lightly graze your sensitive skin with them as he pulls down. Your panties don’t even have the chance to reach the floor and his mouth is already on you again. He runs his tongue through your folds, making you instinctively angle your hips to give him more access. Heedlessly circling your clit with his tongue, he occasionally sucks on it or flicks it. You’re unsure if his mouth is glistening from his own saliva or from your wetness, but the sloppy noises he’s making are causing you to involuntarily buck your hips into his mouth.

“You’re so beautiful like this, my sweet girl.” He mumbles as he pulls away, nuzzling his head into your thigh. Replacing his tongue with his fingers, you let out a quiet moan when he slips them inside of you. “I love having you like this, only for me to see. You know I’d never do this for anyone else, right?” He emphasizes the question by pressing his fingers down against your sweet spot. ”Shit, Yoongi. I love you so much, no one makes me cum like you do.” Your response comes out in a dragged out whine.

Satisfied with your reply his mouth returns to your clit while his fingers work you open. The combination of sensations makes an orgasm built up in your abdomen fast. “Yoon- Yoongi, I’m gonna ah- I’m gonna cum!” You moan out, trying to warn him. This only encourages him to go faster as an orgasm ripples through you in harsh waves, your head falling back against the door as your eyes roll into the back of your head. You spasm slightly as he continues to work your cunt, trying to pull him away so he doesn’t overstimulate you.

He licks off your juices from his fingers, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. As soon as he’s back on his feet you go in for a kiss, leaning on him for support while still coming down from your high. He refuses to let your lips part as he leads you to the bedroom, his shirt and pants getting lost along the way.

“Lay down baby.” He mumbled against your lips as he led you to the bed. Kneeling down between your legs he made sure you were comfortable on your pillow. No matter how basic, missionary was always the best when you needed to express your love sexually. Parting your lips he pulls you down a little so your thighs are pressed together. He grabs his erect cock out of his underwear, not even bothering to get rid of the boxers. Pumping it a few times he gives you a dopey look, a lazy smirk spreading on his face.

“You ready?” He rasps out, rubbing the tip of his cock against your swollen clit, mixing his precum together with the aftermath of your previous orgasm. “A little too ready.” You replied, running a hand through your hair. “Mmm I can tell.” He teases while spreading the natural lubricant over his cock. Slowly he pressed the tip in, “Fuck, it’s going in so easily, o barely had to prep you. You really want it, don’t you?” his brows crease together in pleasure as he slowly bottoms out. “Yes, fuck Yoongi I want your cock so bad.” Your hand shoots up to grab onto his shoulder, biting your lip at the fullness.

“Please, (Y/N). Can I move?” He murmured, holding onto your hips tightly. “Yes, fuck me Yoongi.” You replied, grabbing his face to place a wet kiss onto his lips. He let out a low moan as he started thrusting into you, the warmth and wetness of your cunt feeling better each time he fucked it. You lightly squeezed your walls on purpose knowing it drives him crazy. “Oh my- ah shit I won’t last long at all if you do that.” He said breathily, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. You hooked one of your legs onto his hips, pulling him forward so he’s pressed into your cunt as deeply as possible. The both of you groaned at that, as soon as you let go he started thrusting into you with a quicker pace. His movements rapidly increased with each slap of skin that echoed throughout the space, his head thrown back. That look on his face means he’s absolutely lost in please and that makes you proud. He molds so perfectly inside you it makes all of your doubts melt away, it’s like he was made for you.

Matching the pace of his thrust to his fingers flicking your clit, Yoongi can swear he can feel you pulsating around him. “Ah, fuck (Y/N) I think I’m gonna cum already. Shit I’m sorry it just feels too good.” He groans, the already pink tips of his ears darkening. “It’s okay, go ahead baby, cum inside me.” You breathily respond, continuing to moan with each of his thrusts. He speeds up before abruptly stopping, the feeling of his warm seed filling you up making you clench around his cock. “Wait, shit, shit run my pussy please I’m so close too.” His fingers immediately speed up on your clit, furiously flicking it as your abdomen tightens again. As the hot white pleasure rips through your whole body, making your muscles spasm you hear a wet noise. Looking down the moment you can open your eyes you see Yoongi’s lower stomach covered in a clear liquid.

“Did you just make me squirt?” You laugh in disbelief. “That’s a first.” He mumbles before pulling his cock out, various liquids gliding down your ass. “I’ll go get a towel. He quickly gets up, trying his best not to make any of his surroundings wet.

As the two of you are laying in bed, your warm baked bodies pressed together, you feel Yoongi’s chest vibrate as he speaks up. “From now on, you always have to tell me when something’s bothering you, okay?” He softly says, stroking your hair. “Okay.” You whisper back. “Promise?” He questions while raising his pinky finger up, you lock yours with his, pressing your thumbs together. “Promise.”

#bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts x fem!reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x you #bts x you #bts smut #bts angst #suga x reader #suga x y/n #suga x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x y/n #bts x y/n #bts x female reader

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sturniqloo · 1 month ago

Text

° NOTHING ELSE °

pairing: Chris Sturniolo & fem!reader

in which: after a long day at work all you want is to be close to your boyfriend. ♡

~warning: nothing,its all fluff,nicknames,English is not my first language! ~

Wednesdays. How you hated them.

You're currently sitting in your office,having tons of paper to sort out and put into system for company you worked for,the sound of rain hitting the windows,keyboard of your computer clicking as your fingers almost finished all the work,only other sound was little hums you left throughout the time...the sighs,the deep breaths,the melodies that were in your mind.

It was enough of a bad day for you,your period,the stupid rain,the coworkers being annoying..just everything was irritating you,and the tons of work didn't help much.

Only thing that helped your mind ease was Chris..knowing he was at home,waiting for you,made you feel warm and relaxed. He was everything you needed. Nothing else.

As you glanced at the clock on the wall,it was near 01:30pm.

'Just an hour and a half more untill being home.'

You thought to yourself .

Your head pounding and the sudden sound of growling in your stomach breaking the silence. You haven't eaten anything yet,but lunch at home won't be soon enough and at this moment the only thing you wanted was to just lay down,sleep and eat. With a big exhale,you moved the chair and leaned back,rubbing your eyes in exhaustion as your gaze fall to the phone on the desk. Thinking about calling Chris sounded like the best thing possible right now. Without hesitation you picked it up,your finger hovering over his contact before calling him. As soon as he answered you can hear his voice.

'hey ma',what's up?'

'hey baby..nothing..-im just exhausted and bored..wanna be home right now'

Your voice tired and soft over the phone. It was clear you needed rest.

After a long call with Chris,time passed,it was now 2:15pm.

'Ugh,just a little more..'

You said to yourself with a big sigh,wishing the time can just pass as soon as possible.

Fastly enough it was time. The clock hit 3pm. Signaling it was time to go home.

You got in the car and drove to your and Chris's house,opening the doors,the warm cozy atmosphere hitting you immediately,the smell of a welcoming home.Taking your shoes off,and putting your coat away you see Chris waiting for you on a couch,your gaze falling to the table in front of him,with bouquet of flowers and ordered food. You could feel your face grinning into a smile,as he stood up towards you.

'hey baby,m'so glad you're back..finally.'

With a kiss on a forehead he pulled you down on the couch to lay with him.

'how was work darling? anything happened?'

He asked while running his hands through your hair softly.

'no,just ton of works,it was very exhausting today...'

You answered while relaxing into his touch,the headache already feeling better.

'well..we can do something if you want,like go out for a walk or little drive..whatever you feel like doing,im down'

His voice was soft and sincere,always knowing what to say or do to make you feel instantly better.

'mhmm..we can stay home tonight,exactly how we are right now,i don't wanna move,just wanna be like this-close to you..it's all i need at the moment'

Chris instantly got that and just relaxed with you,cuddling you even more and just doing everything he could to be there for you.

'i love you,you know that right?'

His voice suddenly breaks the comfortable silence.The words full of truth and emotions.

'yes baby,i love you too'

The only sound right now was your giggle,you always enjoyed times like this with him.You could do it forever,it was all you needed.

Just Chris,and nothing else. ♡

author's note: sorry if this is not good,or long,but Im trynna get back into writting,i hope you liked it,lmk what yall think and ofc I always take requests! ♡tell me if you wanna be added to my taglist! also wanna thank to @strnilolover my Gabby for giving me an idea,love her so much ♡

° Lili's corner °

no pressure tags: @chrislilcumslvt @chrislilcumslvt @mattscoquette @adoreechxmpion @strnilolover @mattslolita @sturn10log1rl @luvleyangeldust

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luvrxbunny · 1 year ago

Text

late night talking

Pairing: Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Prompt: Phone Sex

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, mutual masturbation (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 1.5k

A/N: GUYS IM SORRY I'VE BEEN LATE I SWEAR IM TRYING (not proofread *sobbing*)

It’s around 1 AM when Eddie stumbles in, he’s high and just a teensy bit drunk. He has a stupid smile on his face because he’s expecting to see you nice and cozy in his bed. He walks into his room and is sobered by your absence, he speed walks quietly down the hall, making a beeline for the phone hanging off the wall. He’s thinking to himself as he puts your number in, trying to figure out why you aren’t here.

Was she taken? I bet it was Harrington, that motherfucker always wanted her. Dude can’t handle the fact she chose me.

Eddie has a prideful smile on his face as your phone rings. You pick up almost immediately. “Eddie? Are you okay?” His whole body relaxes at the sound of your voice, but… if you’re okay- seeming very un-stolen by Steve Harrington, then why weren’t you here? Sadness creeps into his chest. “Where are you?” He asks, voice completely deflated. He hears some shuffling before you answer him.

“I’m at my house, Eddie. Are you okay?” You ask him again with more force this time and he starts nodding before realizing you can’t see him. “Yeah. I’m okay… Why aren’t you here?” He sounds like he could cry- and he totally could. He gets more emotional when he drinks, and pairing that with the sensitivity he gets when he’s high you’re left with a crossfaded bundle of need and intimacy.

You’d told Eddie that you wouldn’t be sleeping over at his place today, you guys’ midterms were starting tomorrow and you needed a good night’s sleep to not stress over them while testing. It’s not that you don’t sleep well with Eddie, it’s just that you guys can’t help but do a little more than sleep whenever you’re together.

“Baby…” You start slowly, using that tone that Eddie loves. You’re talking to him like you’re breaking the news to a child that Santa isn’t real, full of pity, sadness, and love. It makes him all tingly inside. “I told you that I wouldn’t be there tonight.” He gasps softly into the receiver as the memory pops back into his head. “Remember..? I told you we have testing tomorrow and we both need to sleep. What are you even doing up this late? Did you just get home?!”

His spine straightens as your voice picks up, realizing that yes, he did just get home. Although he never confirms or denies, his silence is your answer. He hears you sigh into the phone and he slumps forward, disappointed in himself for not listening to you but then he realizes something. “Well, what are you doing up? You answered pretty fast, darling.” It’s your turn to go silent now.

As previously mentioned, you and Eddie both have impressively high libidos, so every night you guys would be doing something, anything to get the other off. You stayed away from Eddie’s tonight so you could get some sleep instead of doing that. Unfortunately, it’s seemed to make its way into your routine so you’ve been fighting the urge for hours, unable to sleep a wink because of the incessant, hot, buzzing between your legs. Your body was begging for him, you’d tried to get yourself off for about 5 minutes before giving up. It just wasn’t as intense as when it’s Eddie’s hands on you, your body just wouldn't respond to you the same way. So you’ve been staring at your ceiling, praying for sleep to take you, and then Eddie called.

“Um…” He smiles, holding back a laugh as you try and figure out your answer. “I just miss you.” The message is sweet and heart-warming but you dropped your voice to that whisper you get when you need him. When he’s just practicing some chords and you don’t know how to ask him to take care of you. When you work your way over and tell him you ‘need his help’... you’re using that voice and he’s already getting hard.

“Yeah? You miss me, baby?” His head looks both ways down the hallway as his hand comes to the front of his jeans, massaging his rapidly growing cock. “What do you mean? What do you miss, honey?” You’re squirming in bed, in Eddie’s t-shirt, and very ready for where this conversation is headed. Your hand has already made its way between your legs, rubbing yourself gently through your underwear as Eddie questions you.

“I miss everything about you, Eddie.” You stick your hand into your panties, gathering some wetness to spread over your clit before pulling your hand out and rubbing yourself over your underwear. Eddie’s on the same wavelength as you, his hand now fully inside his boxers, teasing his leaking tip. He can hear your breathing quiver and his eyes roll back into his head. The fact that even though you’re both so far apart, you’re perfectly in sync. “Tell me about it, baby.”

You whimper into his ear. “Eddie… Are you touching yourself?” His knees almost give out and he has to turn around so he can lean against the wall. His hand wraps around his cock and pulls up slowly as his eyes close, picturing you. “Yes.” You’re so silent that he thinks he answered wrong somehow and his hand stops. He’s waiting, listening- maybe you fell asleep. Then he hears it, the subtle whine in your breath and a slick noise behind the static of the phone.

His hand moves again, stiffly in order to keep the phone perfectly placed on his ear to hear your noises. “Fuck, are- Are you touching yourself, love?” You moan his name into the receiver and slide your hand back into your pants, stuffing two fingers into your soaking pussy and whining to Eddie about how good it feels. You lay back onto your pillows, pulling the phone with you, and imagine that Eddie’s above you, that it’s his fingers stretching you out and pressing into your G-Spot. As if he can read your mind, Eddie prompts you.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, baby. You’re real quiet over there, give me something to work with, love” You giggle lightly at his request and he groans in your ear, his hand squeezing around his cock as it pulses at the sound. “What? The thought of me isn’t enough?” He doubles his pace and shakes his head at no one. “Not when I’ve had the real thing f- for so long.” His words come out as a raspy whine, almost a sob as he continues. “How could you take her away from me?” You’re aroused yet confused at his words, you listen to him moan a bit before questioning him. “What- Eddie, who-” He cuts you off with a hushed sob. “Your pussy- need her so bad.” Your teeth tear into your bottom lip as moans try to fight their way out of your mouth.

Eddie’s moaning about all the things he’s going to do to you and you can see them all perfectly, you can hear the truth in his voice, in everything he says. He’s whispering into the phone, making the whole ordeal even hotter. You had never stopped to actually think about why though, you pictured him in his bed, hand down his pants and legs spread for you. You’ve caught him like that before and the image plagues you constantly- but Eddie doesn’t have a phone in his room…

Your pussy clenches onto your fingers as the image in your head shifts. Your head is now depicting Eddie as he truly is, back against the wall, phone in one hand and his other is shoved down his pants, moving wildly under the denim. You can’t hold in the moan that arises at the realization. “Eddie- Fuck, baby are you in your hallway?” He groans out a whimper into the phone and his cock begins to throb, his brain clouding over with thoughts of you, everything you guys have done, everything he wants to do, and everything you’d let him do. “Needed you.” That’s all he can get out before he’s giving you his little hushed sounds. You can feel yourself winding up, and the fire in your stomach begins to spread throughout your body. You’re gushing around your fingers as you listen to Eddie. You can tell he’s getting close, right on the edge and you want nothing more than to push him over.

“M’ gonna cum, Eddie. I-” You’re cut off by your whines as your hand leaves the receiver, using it to rub your clit, desperately working yourself closer to the edge. “Tried earlier but- I don’t feel like y-yo-” Your eyes roll back, your thighs shake and you try your best to hold all your sounds in but little whimpers make their way through the phone as your orgasm racks through you. You hear Eddie moan- probably louder than he should and a loud commotion. Your eyes are shut as you come down and you can hear Eddie moaning- then cursing- in the distance.

You pry your eyes open and grab the phone again. “Eds?” He grunts out a few more curses and some chuckles before answering. “H-hey, sweetheart. I’m okay I-” He laughs at himself again, bringing a smile to your face with the sound. “I- My knees gave out. I fell” He sounds adorably embarrassed as you laugh at him He giggles along timidly and you assure him that it’s cute until you both fall asleep.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed it, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works, and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

#eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader

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littlefireball · 6 months ago

Note

OK hear me out please but Vampire Yeosang x Human virgin reader? Where yeosamg is actually very sweet and she was surrendered to him as a slave but he doesn't treat her as such but more as a lover and ends up taking her virginity??

oh that's a good idea~thx for your request 😃but sorry im not good at writing something sweet XD Here you go~

ʏꜱ|ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ (ᴍ)

ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ ʏᴇᴏꜱᴀɴɢ x ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.2ᴋ

Masterlist

What if vampires want to drink human blood? They could opt to risk being exposed and hunt humans, or, for a more secure approach, purchase slaves from the underground market, although the standard may be spotty. Alternatively, there might be vampires who have forsaken human blood altogether, but Yeosang couldn't. Human blood remained the most palatable, surpassing that of any other creature.

Today marked the fifth time this week that he had come to the underground market. He was still searching for his 'food'. His yearning for control was nonexistent; all he craved was the exquisite taste of blood, nothing more. Thus, when a disgusting man attempted to sell him slaves while referring to them as cute pets, he scoffed.

"Please forgive me, my lord." You knelt on the ground, begging for forgiveness. This is something that happens almost every day, only this time it's not in the private room. "You fucking bitch! Can't even handle such small things?" With a fierce motion, he hurled the glass from his grasp towards your back. The shards erupted into a cascade, leaving your back abruptly stained with crimson. The man's thunderous rebuke and your sweet scent seized Yeosang's focus, revealing you in tears, quivering with emotion.

You did nothing wrong, only rejected to provide a special service to the client. But you were beaten and punished severely for this very reason.

"Useless bitch!Send her to jail!" It was a fate far worse than death, yet you chose to endure it. Opting for a torturous demise would have been a better decision, sparing you from the company of those repulsive men, literally.

As you were on the brink of being whisked away, a figure seized your wrist with an unexpected grip. His skin radiated an unusual chill, starkly contrasting with that of ordinary individuals. Locking eyes with his piercing crimson gaze sent a shiver coursing through you, leaving you with an unsettling sense of foreboding.

You knew he was a vampire.

"Release her." Yeosang said, his voice tingled with a hint of impatience. He found himself puzzled by his own curiosity, but never mind, it wasn't a big deal anyway. "Who are you?Huh?A popinjay?" The man chortled heartily, devoid of any sense of admiration as he gazed upon Yeosang's opulent ensemble. "A man you will regret for angering him forever." The man trembled at the mere sight of Yeosang, no words necessary, as his presence alone exuded power and authority.

"Release her and don't make me twice." Yeosang warned him with a deep voice, making the man swallow hard and not dare to look at him. "Re…release her…"The bindings that held your wrists captive were finally undone, and he delicately lowered your hands, as though he feared causing you any discomfort. "Wrap yourself in this," he instructed, draping the cloak over your shoulders and giving you a reassuring pat. In that moment, he appeared to embody two distinct personas.

"I…I give her to you. How you deal with it is your business." The man turned away without looking back. Although he didn't receive the money, he didn't want any more trouble.

"He leaves and you are free now." Yeosang whispered softly, stirring your heartstring. "Take care of yourself. I gotta go."

Just as he was preparing to depart, you took hold of his icy hand and implored him, "Might I become your slave? I promise to be obedient and fulfill your every desire." Even as a creature of the night, his gentleness was a rarity among humans. You were uncertain if servitude to him was truly a blessing, but it certainly seemed preferable to a lifetime of confinement in this place.

"And would you want my blood…?" You hesitated, bowing your head, uncertain if your inquiry was too forward. "Are you aware of what you speak?" Yeosang crouched down to lift your chin, locking eyes with you. "I…I understand. You are a…vam…vampire," He appeared mildly taken aback, yet swiftly composed himself. "But don't you want to go anywhere?" You shook your head. "There is nowhere. I humbly request to remain by your side."

"Then just follow me if you're not scared." —---- You delicately sliced your wrist with the blade, allowing the crimson liquid to cascade into the crystal goblet. This exquisite feast was meticulously crafted for Yeosang each evening. He never bites you, for fear of causing you harm, and for fear of revealing his identity through visible traces.

"I'm back, Y/N." His voice resonated from a short distance, prompting you to dash towards the door. "Welcome home~" You enveloped him in a warm embrace, a delightful surprise at how eagerly you anticipated his arrival. "How was your day?" You tilted your head to capture the warmth in his affectionate gaze. "Tired." He buried his head in your neck, nuzzling like a kitten. "But I feel better after seeing you." He beamed, tenderly stroking your hair with a loving touch. The alluring scent of your skin never fails to captivate him, prompting him to rub your neck.

"You are exaggerating~I've prepared your dinner." With a grin, you assisted him in removing his attire and ensuring his comfort before making your way to the kitchen to fetch a goblet of blood. "Thank you," he expressed his gratitude with a smile as he indulged in his beverage.

He never regarded you as a mere slave, perhaps one could even argue that he treated you as a companion, or perhaps something even deeper. However, you were hesitant to entertain any further thoughts. Your fondness for him was undeniable, yet his true feelings remained a mystery to you.

After all, you were a slave from the black market, and he was your master. There was a huge gap.

"Why do you look at my face? Is it something there?" His words pulled you back to reality. "Nothing. Just watching some beautiful things." A joyful smile graced his lips, yet he soon pretended to be cold. He would not tell you he loves your praise. But of course, you knew him well.

"Allow me to assist you in getting ready for a bath." As you gracefully rose from your seat, he gently halted your movement with the sound of your name escaping his lips. "Y/N?" "How may I be of service to you?" With a tender touch, he guided you to settle on his lap, causing your eyes to widen in astonishment.

"Just stay with me for a while." Leaning his head against your shoulder, he enveloped you in his arms. Although it was not the initial occurrence of such intimacy between you two, you couldn't help but feel a rush of warmth spreading across your cheeks.

You sensed a weariness that seemed to envelop him. While human blood possesses the power to rejuvenate a vampire's vigor, your own appearance is insufficient. Perhaps he craves something more exquisite, something tantalizingly rich—heart blood. This rare elixir, the most coveted of all, manifests only when a vampire has marked their mate.

"Ma…master?" "Hm?" He murmured, slowly opening his eyes to meet your gaze, even though he was on the brink of slumber. "You mentioned that heart blood can heal a vampire. Would you like to partake of it?" He hesitated, taken aback by your unexpected question. "Yes, but this is not something you can drink just by thinking about it."

"How could I get it?" A smirk played on his lips as he heard your words. "You can't get it because you are not a vampire," "But you could get it…from me."His eyes widened, all drowsiness vanishing in an instant. "It's not kidding, Y/N. Marking hurts and you may not handle it. I don't want to harm─" You wrapped around his shoulder, silencing his words with a kiss.

This move used up all your courage.

"You saved me, and now my life belongs to you." "Won't you regret it?There is no turning back." You shook your head, gently cradling his face. "Never." Upon hearing your declaration, he pounced you onto the sofa. "Tell me if it hurts." He whispered against your lips before claiming you into a passionate kiss.

In truth, he recognized you as his soulmate from the moment your paths crossed. However, he restrained his primal instincts to mark you, for he wished to shield you from any potential harm. The painful recollections lingered in his thoughts, fueling his desire to avenge any who dared to hurt you.

"Mine." His kisses trailed down to your neck and his teeth sank into it, causing blood flow out from the wounds. You hissed at the pain and dug your nails into his nape. "Godness, you are so sweet, honey." You became a mess at his words as it was the first time he called you like this. Yeosang sneaked to your collarbone, dropping a trail of kisses while biting harshly to leave a mark.

His fingers settled under the bands of your panties after he sat up straight, tearing them into a fragment. You gasped at his sudden move, but before you could say anything, his fingers diving for your wet lower core. "Look at you, you're so beautiful." One finger being thrusted in slowly, making you bite your lips because you were not used to it. He pulled out and another finger followed, moving in and out at a slow pace.

"Gosh…" You rolled your hips and your toes curl together, feeling he go faster and deeper each time you let out a soft whimper. Throwing your head on the armrest, your face turned red as if oxygen was out of your lungs. Yeosang leaned down to sink his teeth into your skin again, the pain and the pleasure crushed you at the same time, pushing you into a total messiness.

"C'mon, honey. I know you want to cum, cum for me. Let me see what you've got." Your mouth fell into an 'O' form and a choppy moan left your lips. His fingers pushed upward to scratch your wet wall and hit your soft flesh from time to time, bringing you to the peak. "Ma…Master…!" Before you could form a complete sentence, you squirted all over his forearm and even his thighs.

"I…I apologize." You covered your face with embarrassment. "Don't say sorry, you're doing well." He removed your hand and pecked at your lips. "I just have to prepare you well. Ready for me? Angel." "Yes, yes, please." A smile played on his lips and he took off his pants, exposing himself fully.

Your lips bore the burden of his touch once more, pulled in by an irresistible warmth. His tender kisses, gentle bites, and soft sucking, along with his teasing tongue, led you to willingly follow his lead. Without hesitation, you parted your lips, granting him access to explore every inch.

His delicate touch grazed over your sensitive nerves, sending a shiver down your spine. He caressed your thighs, your derriere, before lifting them and encircling his powerful waist. In silence, he positioned himself at your entrance and entered with a powerful thrust.

A soft gasp escaped your lips, overwhelmed by his impressive size, a wave of satisfaction washing over you, leaving you momentarily breathless. Your head reclined against the sofa's edge and he began to move with a steady rhythm.

You raised your head and let out a soft sigh, your hands gently grasping the back of his head, giving him permission to carry on with his movements. The sensation of soft flesh being hitted made you blush, and your body quivered. Observing this, he playfully intensified his rhythm in that exact spot.

"Ma…master…hmm!" The sounds of pleasure echoed throughout the lavishly decorated bathroom, his passionate movements causing you to gasp in delight. "Oh…my dearest Y/N," Yeosang whispered against your chest, finding where the heart blood is. "Find it." Before you could react, he bit your chest with a great force and you screamed in pain. He pulled you up to settle you on his lap, pushing upward while drinking your blood.

In an unexpected surge, he plunged with fervor, striking precisely at the core of your being. "It hurts!!" "You can take this, Y/N." The exquisite agony enveloped your senses, clouding your awareness and ensnaring your very nerves, rendering you utterly defenseless.

Tears brimmed at the edges of your eyes, your brow knitted in distress, and a heart-wrenching cry escaped your lips, betraying your suffering. Your body quaked, slick with cold perspiration, as your limbs grew increasingly feeble. But he didn't stop, kept colliding with your deepest part without mercy by holding tight your waist.

"Be mine, Y/N." He let out a low, satisfied groan as he reached his peak deep inside you, sealing the bond. Gradually easing his pace, he withdrew from your body. As the bond solidified, Yeosang felt a surge of power, and miraculously, your complexion returned to its natural hue, blemishes vanishing, save for the scar on your chest - a testament to Yeosang's mark.

"Sorry, it hurts." You shook your head before resting on his chest. "I would do anything for you."

"Thank you, Y/N."

"I should be the one who said that. Thank you, master."

"Don't call me Master." Your gaze met again as he lifted your chin. "Call me Yeosang." He pressed his lips against yours with all his love and tenderness.

"I love you, Yeosang."

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez smut #ateez x female reader #ateez x reader #ateez oneshot #ateez x y/n #ateez imagines #yeosang #yeosang smut #ateez yeosang

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rangerbarbz · 14 days ago

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Professor Pines pt 4

Author’s Note: Guys I am SOOOO sorry it has been forever since i have written. Im gonna be honest i have had a ton on my plate lately with family, work, and school, but i am going to be writing more I PROMISE!!! After this chapter will be the last one in the series :)

August 20th

Today was the last day you and Ford were going to be spending together in the cabin. It had been an indescribable summer with him. You had gathered so much information about the creatures you discovered and were going to present your research when you returned to school. You had also been harbouring some intense feelings for your professor. Your heart told you that he felt the same way about you, but your mind brought you back to Earth. You had a habit of letting your emotions get the best of you which caused many disappointments in your life. So, for right now, it was important to stay focused on the task at hand: your research. God, you spent so much time with Ford you were becoming him.

That night after you two had finished packing, you two had decided to celebrate with some celebratory whiskey that Ford had picked up at a distillery on the way to the cabin. There was an old record player that was quietly serenading you with Sinatra in the background while the fireplace crackled alive with flames. You were both laughing at something you said that you couldn’t remember now. All you remembered was the way the skin crinkled around his eyes when he smiled and how he covered his mouth because he was embarrassed by his laugh.

“You’re something else, Y/N,” Ford said, wiping a tear from his eye.

“You too, Doc,” you replied, relishing seeing Ford’s sheepish grin. You took another sip of your whiskey, savoring the warm caramel taste as it went down your throat. You didn’t see the way he looked at your lips as they kissed the edge of the glass. Suddenly, your head perked up hearing “The Very Thought Of You” pour out of the record player.

“Oh my goodness! I haven’t heard this song since my high school prom!” you gasped, placing the glass down to close your eyes and sway to the song.

“They played Sinatra at a high school prom?” Ford asked, also placing his glass down.

You chuckled. “Well, it was a roaring 20s themed prom. It was a slow dance song. It was pretty romantic for highschool standards.” You then turned and sat criss-cross applesauce facing Ford. “So what type of songs did they play at your prom? Beach Boys, Beatles?”

Ford sighed and shrugged. “Maybe. I didn’t stay very long at my senior prom.”

You cocked your head to the side. “Oh no, what happened?”

His eyes wouldn’t meet yours. “Well, my brother, Stanley, encouraged me to ask this girl I had a crush on to dance with me. Didn’t go too well.” He looked down at his hands and placed them on either side of his legs. He let out a humorless chuckle. “She threw punch all over me and walked away.”

“That bitch!” you exclaimed.

“Y/N, please,” Ford said, a blush creeping up his neck.

“Well , I’m sorry Ford, but it’s the truth. I would have been happy to dance with you.” You stood up and outstretched your arm to him. “Dance with me.”

“W-what?”

“Dance with me.”

“I, uh, don’t know how to. I’ve never danced before.” You weren’t sure if it was the whiskey or how he looked so flustered right now… But, fuck, you felt electric.

You smiled. “You’re a quick learner, Ford. Now use that big brain of yours and get your ass up.” Ford quickly downed the rest of his drink before standing in front of you. He was much taller and broader than you. A lot more manly than the guy you had danced with to this song previously. He glanced down at you, and at this moment you had never seen him so nervous. You had heard about how brave he was in the face of uncertainty and terror through his stories, yet right now, he just looked like a frightened school boy. The confidence he usually carried gracefully was withering away in front of you.

“So, what do I do?” Ford asked, his cheeks reddening. You gave him a soft smile and took his strong hands in yours.

“Just follow my lead,” you answered quietly. You placed his hands on your waist while yours looped around his neck. He felt his breath hitch in his throat at the feeling of your wrists resting on his shoulders. He had never been this close to a person in a very long time.

You began to move side to side slowly for a while, gazing into his deep, brown eyes. However, he was not meeting yours. Instead, he was focused on not stepping on your feet.

“Look at me, Stanford.” You tilted his chin up with your index finger. His eyes were finally on you; they were unsure, darting across your face. “Eye contact is important.”

“Yes, I-I suppose,” he stuttered. Why did he feel like the inside of his stomach was being tickled? Are these the butterflies Mabel spoke of?

You gave him a shy grin before whispering in his ear, “This would be a good time to dip me.”

Ford cleared his throat, feeling blood divert to his lower region. You were so close to his neck; it was exhilarating for him.

“Oh, okay. Do I just?” You felt his hand move to the small of your back while the other one was placed at the top of your spine.

“Uh huh,” you reassured him. “Well, if you would actually put one hand in the middle of my back and then the other one under my knee, I think that would be better.”

He was blushing furiously as he felt the sensitive skin behind your knee. You let out the tiniest exhale at the way his calloused fingers felt. You knew it didn’t go unnoticed by Ford because you saw the twinge of a self-satisfied smirk.

“Okay, so now you just-” You were interrupted by Ford sweeping you off your feet and catching you at the same time. Your faces were just mere inches apart. All the air had left your lungs as you looked into his eyes, his pupils dilated. You were not expecting the smoothness at which he dipped you. It was like you weighed nothing, and God was it hot.

When you didn’t say anything, Ford started to get worried. “Did I do it right?” His eyebrows were furrowed before they raised. “Did I hurt you?” he asked, concerned.

You immediately shook your head. “No, not at all. I just… Wow, that was the most romantic thing I’ve ever experienced.”

Ford began to laugh as he brought you back to your feet gently, his hands lingering on your body for just a moment longer than needed. “That’s the first time I’ve had the word romantic associated with me.” His eyes then began to soften, a smile spreading across his face. Your face felt hot under his gaze. “Thank you, dear.”

Your fingers began to twiddle with the ends of your hair nervously. “You’re very welcome, Ford.” You continued to admire each other in the silence, the tension so thick you’d need to slice it with an axe. The older man then cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Well, it’s late. We have a long drive in the morning. We better get to bed.” You blinked, obviously jarred by the change in tone.

You nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. We’ve been up a while,” you replied. You clenched and unclenched your fist in an attempt to bring your attention to something else. “Have a goodnight, Ford.” You walked past him making sure to keep your focus on the floor. Ford frowned as he watched you give him the cold shoulder. “You too, Y/N.” How could he be such a fool?

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megalomaniacz · 1 year ago

Note

IM SO HOOKED ON CRYBABY I NEED MORE OMG

CRYBABY! - (E.W) PT6

pairing: mean/cruel ellie x sensitive/emotional reader.

synopsis: you’ve had enough at this point.

a/n: the next chapter is already in the works and guys…things get so… like there’s no going back i think this is the end point 😭

i don’t care if it hurts

masterlist.

no one can get a word in before jesse breaks up the fight. “we go on in two minutes. get it together. fucking get cleaned up.” he pulls at ellie.

you’re baffled, really. such a silly word but it’s the only one you can use. abby never really got into fights, that you’d known of. she was one of your best friends. and you never had the heart to tell her about what ellie had done, so how did she figure everything out? why are you spiraling? ellie probably said or did something to get herself punched. maybe this has nothing to do with you?

“and i’m very excited to introduce our next performers. watching them go from garages, to performing on stages, to signing record deals has been a beautiful journey. i’m happy to say i’ve been here since the beginning. now please make some noise for, seattle revival!”

you and abby are sat backstage as you dress her wounds. you wait to hear a familiar string of notes from jesse as he starts their first song, but you’re surprised by ellie’s voice on the mic.

“guys i just want to start the show off by apologizing to someone very near a dear to me. a very special person in my life who i’ve hurt—“

“we love you ellie!”

“aww i love you too. i want to say i’m sorry to her because i did some really fucked up shit in the past and i hope that she can forgive me and that we can move past it.”

the crowd cheers.

“and go back to being lovey dovey girlfriends. please forgive me babe. it’ll never happen again.”

abby’s mouth falls so far to the ground you could stick your fist in it. her face has never turned red faster. “what the fuck is she talking about? you guys were—are dating?”

you frantically shake your head. “no abby she’s lying. i don’t know what she’s gaining from it either. i think we should go now.”

“and this next song is dedicated to her—“ she points to you, an employee tugs at you to make you more visible, pulling you to the stage. a spotlight falls on you. everybody’s phone is up. everybody’s flash is on. here come the waterworks, fuck. didn’t you say you weren’t gonna cry today?

and then a familiar string of notes plays. jesse and dina catch on quickly, and your heart seeps. there was no way she was playing this song right now.

“when you were here before.”

you’re taken back to that first rehearsal. stuffed in jesse’s parents garage on a gloomy day. you were sitting on a scratched up couch, petting his cat. ellie looked over to you with a smile on her face. “you listen to a lot of music?”

you nod. “i love music. i was honestly so excited to hear you guys are starting a band. i’ll be your first groupie! handmade merch and everything.”

she laughs before whispering something to jesse and dina, then returning to the mic. “we’re gonna dedicate this one to our first groupie.”

“couldn’t look you in the eyes.”

dina and jesse slipped off after that practice and you knew they’d gone to go fuck somewhere, so you stayed with ellie. “they have no idea how to be discreet about it.” you laugh. she shrugs. “good on them, atleast i’m not alone dealing with it anymore.”

she’d convinced you to grab icecream with her. nestled in the booth of the old restaurant over an icecream sundae. soft music playing from its speakers. it was nearly empty, and it had started to rain outside.

“so how long have you known jesse and dina?” you ask, dipping a spoon in your side of the sweet treat. she grabs a cherry from the top, popping it into her mouth. “since we were kids in highschool. those are my best friends. i’m excited to be starting a band with them, and i’m glad i got to meet you.”

you blush.

you’re crying now. onstage, you’re crying. you can feel the tears slipping down your cheeks and underneath your chin. you wipe at them but they just won’t go away. she was so sweet to you a couple years ago. she was the sweetest person you’d ever met. how could you even compare the person singing to you now, and the person you’d met back then?

then you get a glimpse of her. it’s in her eyes. you’re flashing back between that memory and now. her hand in yours, running through the rain. catching the bus back to jesse’s. staying up and watching movies all night. waking up the next day to the lovebirds apologizing, while you and ellie laugh about it so hard your stomachs started to ache.

and you’re conflicted because this is the same ellie that got drunk at a party and threw up all over you. twice. then the next day said, “atleast it was better than what you’d been wearing.” jesus, she was addicting. she’d hooked you in and completely destroyed you. your self esteem. and now she was trying to play nice?

out of the corner of your eye, before you can catch it, abby is walking onstage. she takes a moment to look at you, tears streaming down your face, and decides to turn around. she walks away and it takes you a minute to follow behind. calling for her. begging her to come back.

“abby stop. where are you going?”

“no, just stop. you’re pathetic. why do you take the shit she does? don’t you have any respect for yourself?”

you’ve never heard her speaking to you this way. between your head rushing from the crying and the whiplash you’re getting from her harsh words, you feel like you’re going to pass out. “i don’t just take it abby. how do you even know about that stuff—“

“because jesse and dina told me! i’m supposed to be your best fucking friend but you can’t even communicate the simplest of things. the things i know are hurting you inside. i was gonna— never mind. fucking forget it.”

and then she walks away, disappearing into a hallway. fading away slowly like a ghost. body blurred from your tears. you feel your feet get weak first, then you drop to your knees and onto the ground. huddling within yourself. letting all your tears fall.

the “seattle revival’s last show after party” is one you refused to miss. with everything happening between abby and ellie, you were more than prepared to let it all go. to get drunk or high or whatever the fuck, and stop feeling. this very thought picked you up off that floor, and led you to the dressing rooms. you enjoyed the rest of the show from there, wiping at your face so hard you felt like it would bruise.

when the band found their way into the dressing room, dina and jesse rushed over to comfort you. “i swear i’d bash her head in if it didn’t interfere with the tour. i’m sorry, i shouldn’t be apologizing for her but it’s the only way you’ll get a real one. i’m sorry.”

you had sat with the pain for long enough. you’d cried enough. you didn’t know where abby was or why she said what she did but it was your breaking point. if you were a house, she had pulled a loose brick. making everything collapse within itself. and tumble over everyone else in its path. you felt like…ellie. the world had darkened. the small light, the tiny bits of happiness in you, had melted away. you didn’t care anymore.

you get up to face ellie, her smile fading when her eyes meet yours. everything had left them. all that purity. all that love, was gone.

“honestly i’m over it. let’s go to the after party.”

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tiiraameesu · 2 months ago

Text

The One That Got Away Pt.4

Gojo Satoru x F!Reader

Synopsisજ⁀➴ Gojo is a charismatic college student, known for his carefree approach to relationships, never letting things get too serious. You are his longtime best friend and have quietly harbored feelings for him but never acted on them, knowing Gojo’s aversion to commitment. But when Gojo shares an unexpected connection with another girl, the dynamics between them start to shift. As the lines blur between friendship and something more, you are left grappling with your emotions—unsure of whether you'll be able to stay by Gojo’s side, or if it’s time to move on.

tagsજ⁀➴ college au, hockey player!gojo, band member!reader, angst, slow burn, eventual friends to lovers (maybe), gojo is dumb af, you might dislike gojo in this im sorry, very very mild geto x reader

NOTESજ⁀➴ hope y'all enjoy the new chapter! appreciate all the comments and messages I've gotten so far for my last few chapters! makes me soooo excited to post even more and more! so sorry for the late upload though, school has been CRAZY and i was lowkey spiraling because of this new guy i was talking to but yeah ENJOYYY ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

wcજ⁀➴ 7.5k

taglineજ⁀➴ @kaemaybae @laviefantasie @higuchislut @domilovestoru @aishies-stuff @genxnarumi @username23345 PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

Two weeks had passed, and Gojo Satoru was a ghost in your life. Not literally, of course—his presence was hard to miss, especially since you still caught glimpses of him with Mina—but the days when he’d linger outside your band practice or wait for you by the bleachers during his hockey drills were long gone.

Instead, his world seemed to orbit around Mina now. He was always meeting her, whether before or after his own practice. The few times you had decided to sit in the bleachers and watch him, hoping he’d wave you over for a laugh or even just a chat, he’d merely sent a casual wave in your direction before rushing to Mina.

By the third time, you decided he wouldn’t miss your absence. Mina was there to take your place.

Now, here you were, stuck in the middle of band practice. The studio walls felt too tight today, and even though the air was filled with the rhythmic clash of drums, the heavy hum of the bass, and the soaring melody of your guitar, the energy in your chest was mismatched.

Your phone sat on the edge of the amp, its screen glaring at you with an all-too-familiar sight: an unread message to Gojo. Delivered. Not even read.

It stung more than you cared to admit, but you knew better than to let it show. You didn’t own him. He didn’t owe you anything.

You shook the thought from your head as the band kicked into another song. This time, you focused.

The song flowed easily under your fingers, each note falling into place with effortless precision. Your hands moved like they had a mind of their own, strumming, pressing, and pulling out the right chords without a second thought.

You hit every note perfectly, the rhythm steady, the melody crisp—technically flawless. But something was off. The music, despite its perfection, felt wrong.

Instead of the light, airy feel the song was meant to have, each strum was laced with tension, harsh and biting, like a storm trapped in a song meant for sunshine. The melody should have danced, should have lifted the mood, but instead, it thundered through the room, loud and jagged. Every note you played was sharp, angry, as though you were trying to fight something—only it wasn’t the song you were supposed to be playing anymore.

The guitar hummed with your frustration, but it wasn’t the kind of emotion the song was supposed to evoke. It was heavy. It was out of place. It was angry. And as you continued, the gap between the song and your soul seemed to widen.

“You’re playing too hard,” Choso called over the final note, his drumsticks resting on the snare. His voice cut through the distorted noise of your thoughts, pulling you back to reality, but only slightly.

You lowered your guitar, chest rising and falling with the weight of the tension still clinging to you. His words didn’t quite register at first—until you looked up, meeting his steady gaze. His brow furrowed, and for the briefest second, you could have sworn he saw right through you, saw past the perfect notes and into the tangled mess inside.

“I hit all the notes, didn’t I?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, sharper than you intended. You didn’t want to look weak, but you couldn’t help it. The question hung in the air, a challenge disguised as doubt. Your fingers still tingled from the aggressive strumming, the burn of the misplaced energy lingering.

“You did,” Yu chimed in from the keyboard. “But it’s not… you. It’s like…” He hesitated, searching for the right words.

“Like you’re following a script,” Choso finished, his dark eyes steady on you. “Instead of playing from the heart.”

Their words hit harder than you expected, stirring a frustration you weren’t ready to face. Before you could snap back, your hand slipped during the next strum. The string bit into your finger, sharp and unforgiving.

“Ah, shit,” you muttered, pulling back as blood welled up on your finger.

Iori, who had been watching from her spot near the mic, immediately stepped away, her voice cutting through the tension. “Break time,” she called, her tone more serious than usual. The mic stand clinked softly as she set it down and moved toward you.

You blinked, still reeling from the sting in your finger. The blood dripped slowly, mixing with the burn of your frustration. Iori was already moving toward the back of the room, opening a cabinet for the first aid kit.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice softer now, but still carrying that steady assurance.

You didn’t answer right away, just watched as she grabbed the kit and walked back over. The room felt strangely quiet without the hum of the music, the weight of their words still hanging in the air. Your hand felt heavy, the cut sharp but not unbearable.

Iori knelt in front of you, gently taking your hand in hers. “Let me see.” Her fingers brushed lightly against your skin as she cleaned the wound. It wasn’t painful, but the act was grounding, calming, almost too much after the storm inside you. You had to look away, feeling the sharp edges of your emotions settle, just for a second.

“You really gotta stop playing so hard,” Iori murmured, her gaze flickering up to meet yours. There was a faint smirk on her face, but there was something else too—understanding, maybe. She didn’t press the issue, though. Instead, she simply wrapped the cut with care, her voice softening. “You’re not gonna get anything out of this if you keep forcing it.”

Her words stuck with you, hanging in the air even as she finished tending to your finger. The sharpness of the cut seemed to mirror the tension inside you, and for a moment, you felt a flicker of understanding in the quiet aftermath. You weren’t just playing with your fingers; you were playing with your heart, and it had all gotten twisted up somewhere along the way.

Iori finished wrapping your finger, her hands gentle as she tended to the cut, but you didn’t feel the same sense of calm you usually did when she was around. Everything felt off, jagged, like even the simplest act was just another reminder of how out of sync you were with yourself. She stepped back, giving you some space, but the words she’d said lingered in the air.

The moment stretched, but you barely noticed it, too lost in your own head. Then, from the corner of your eye, you saw Naoya walking over with a drink in hand. He didn’t say anything at first, just tossed you the can like it was a casual gesture, but you could feel his eyes on you—assessing, calculating.

You caught it without looking, but your fingers felt sluggish, the weight of the can nothing compared to the weight you were carrying. You cracked it open slowly, the fizz rising and popping in the quiet. But it didn’t help.

Naoya sat down next to you, his posture as rigid and sharp as always, but his gaze never left you. There was an uncomfortable intensity in the way he studied you, the usual mockery and sharp edges of his smirk replaced by something a little less abrasive.

He leaned back, tilting his head slightly, eyes narrowing as if searching for something deeper than the surface.

“What’s bothering you now?” he asked, the words more direct than you expected, his voice stripped of any sarcasm or playfulness. “Last time you were like this was two weeks ago, remember? And I don’t think I need to tell you that you don’t exactly have a good track record when you start shutting down.”

His words hit like a cold splash of water, a reminder of the pattern you were stuck in. You had been here before, trapped inside your head, not sure how to get out. It didn’t matter that this time it felt different—like the frustration wasn’t just with the music anymore, but with everything around you, everything inside you. Naoya knew better than to let you avoid the question.

You didn’t answer right away, running your thumb along the lip of the can absentmindedly. The bubbles inside hissed in your ears, but the sound only reminded you of the noise in your own head.

Then, as the silence stretched, Nanami spoke up from his spot across the room, his usual calm voice cutting through the stillness.

“You know, ignoring it won’t help,” he said, his tone more matter-of-fact than anything else. “Whatever this is, bottling it up just makes it worse. You’re not exactly subtle when something’s eating at you.”

You could feel his eyes on you, but you didn’t look up, too tangled in the mess of your thoughts. Your mind raced, too much noise in your head to form a solid answer.

“I… I don’t really know,” you said finally, the words slipping out more honestly than you intended. You shook your head, frustration leaking through your voice.

You sat there in silence, the words hanging in the air. The frustration still churned inside you, a gnawing feeling that didn’t seem to go away no matter how many times you tried to shake it off. It wasn’t just the music. It wasn’t just the cut on your finger. It was everything that had been building up inside you, everything that you hadn’t been able to say or figure out.

Gojo. That name echoed in your mind, but even thinking it made your chest tighten, a knot forming deep in your stomach. It was him—his presence, his expectations, the weight of his shadow that seemed to be clouding everything. You couldn’t put it into words, not here, not now. Not in front of them. But damn, you just wished you could hear his voice. Maybe then, things would feel a little clearer. Maybe just hearing him tell you it was going to be okay would make the world feel less heavy.

The silence stretched on, thick and heavy, until you felt a gentle touch on your shoulder. You looked up, surprised to find Iori watching you, her eyes softer than usual, like she could sense the wall you were putting up.

Without a word, she clasped her hands together and stood up, her movements calm and purposeful. “You know what? Let’s call it a night. Why don’t we order some food and just chill? No pressure, no rehearsing. Just take it easy this time around.”

Her words were simple, but the way she said them felt like a release, like an invitation to let go of the tension that had been creeping up in the room.

You felt the weight of your own silence, the words swirling in your chest that you couldn’t quite voice. Maybe you were being unfair, maybe you were letting everything pile up inside you when they didn’t deserve it. The guilt hit you like a wave, and before you could stop it, you found yourself speaking.

“I’m sorry… I don’t know what’s been going on with me lately. I’ve been... off, I guess.” The words came out clumsy, but they felt necessary. Like if you could just say them, it might ease the tension that had been building inside you for so long.

The room felt quieter as you looked around, but instead of a wave of understanding or sympathy, Choso’s voice cut through, calm and unfazed.

“Don’t sweat it,” he said with his usual nonchalance, leaning back in his seat. His eyes flickered toward you, but there wasn’t any judgment in them, just an effortless coolness. “Everyone has their moments. No big deal.”

He shrugged, looking more like he couldn’t care less, but the ease in his tone made the guilt inside you settle just a little.

“You’re still here, right? That’s what matters.” His words were blunt, but they had a way of hitting exactly where they needed to. No overthinking, no grand speeches. Just... simple reassurance.

You let out a small breath, realizing that maybe it wasn’t so terrible to be like this every once in a while. You weren’t perfect, and neither were they. And that, for some reason, made it all feel a little more manageable.

“Thanks,” you said, the words lighter now, like a burden had shifted off your shoulders.

Iori gave a small, approving nod as you finally relaxed, her smile soft but reassuring. “So, what are we having?”

────────────────────────────────────────────────────

After the food had been devoured, the room was filled with the casual noise of packing up and cleaning up the last bits of the mess. The rest of the crew had already begun to pack up, their laughter and chatter a distant hum as they gathered their things and said their goodbyes. The studio, once filled with the warmth of conversation and the sound of instruments, now felt quieter. The clock on the wall showed that it was nearing midnight, and everyone was ready to call it a night.

You waved them off, telling them you’d close up the studio. The others didn’t seem to mind, already heading out the door with tired smiles and promises to meet at the next session. As the last of them disappeared down the hallway, you stood there in the silence, the door clicking shut behind them.

The studio was empty now, save for the soft hum of the lights above. You set your bag down on the couch, the familiar weight of it suddenly feeling too much. But instead of heading home like you probably should have, you took a deep breath and made your way over to your instrument.

The band had been more than patient with you, more than understanding as you struggled through each practice, trying and failing to get things right. The pressure had been mounting—the gig was right around the corner, and you still hadn’t found your rhythm. But every time you messed up, they were there with encouraging words, with reassurances that you’d get it, that they knew you could.

A wave of gratitude washed over you as you stood there in the quiet studio, staring at your instrument. They could’ve been frustrated with you. They had every right to be. But instead, they were kind, patient, and supportive, letting you take your time. You couldn’t help but feel guilty for not being better, for not meeting their expectations, for not being as good as they believed you were capable of being.

You let the thoughts settle in your mind, but then, as quickly as they came, you shook them away. There was no point in dwelling on what you couldn’t change right now. What mattered was what came next.

You couldn’t take their patience for granted. You couldn’t let them down again. The gig was coming, and you had to be better.

With a steadying breath, you picked up your instrument. The room seemed to fade around you as you closed your eyes, tuning out everything except the steady pulse of your heartbeat and the strings beneath your fingers.

You began to play, your fingers moving over the strings with a gentler touch than before. The aggression was gone, replaced by a quieter intensity. It felt better, more in tune with the mood you wanted to create, but something was still missing. There was a void, a note that you couldn’t reach, a spark that wouldn’t ignite no matter how many times you strummed. The frustration lingered, swirling inside you, gnawing at your concentration.

And just as the frustration began to settle into something heavier, your phone vibrated sharply against the floor where you had tossed it earlier. Startled, you paused mid-strum and glanced over. The name on the screen caught you off guard.

Gojo.

You stared at the caller ID for a moment, your heart doing an unexpected flutter in your chest. What was he calling for? Was it... was it really him? You hesitated, fingers still lingering on the strings, unsure of whether to pick up or let it go to voicemail.

It had been so long since you’d heard his voice, but you didn’t know if you were ready to face it yet. You knew you couldn’t keep running from this, but... this? Right now?

The phone vibrated again in your hand, urging you to decide.

You took a deep breath and answered, your voice shaky as you pressed the phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Gojo’s voice came through, smoother than usual, but there was something about it that felt more serious this time. “I’m downstairs. I’ve been waiting for you.”

You froze, eyes darting to the door like you could somehow see him on the other side. Downstairs? You weren’t sure you’d heard him right.

“Wait... what?” you said, your voice wavering slightly. “You’re downstairs?”

“Yeah,” Gojo responded, his tone firmer now, like he wasn’t messing around. “Come down. I’ll be waiting.”

Your mind raced, trying to make sense of it. You hadn’t expected this, hadn’t expected him to show up out of the blue like this. You looked at your phone, still processing the strange urgency in his voice.

“Uh, alright,” you said, suddenly feeling a rush of nerves. “I’ll be there in a second.”

You hung up quickly, set your guitar down, and grabbed your things, moving with more haste than you had anticipated. The tension in the pit of your stomach only grew as you locked up the practice room and made your way down the hall. Something in his tone had shifted, and it made the usual teasing Gojo feel distant—more... serious.

You rushed down the stairs, the echo of your footsteps against the walls reminding you how quickly everything had shifted. When you finally rounded the corner, you saw him standing by the door, his posture straighter than usual. The smirk was gone, replaced by a focused intensity in his eyes that you rarely saw.

He didn’t greet you with his usual grin or playful jab. Instead, he just looked at you, his gaze unwavering. “Took you long enough,” he said, his voice almost too calm. “Let’s go.”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling like you were in way over your head. But there was no turning back now.

The walk was quiet, but the silence felt different this time. Gojo’s usual cocky confidence was replaced with an almost tangible tension in his posture. He walked with purpose, his strides long and quick, but there was a tightness in the way he carried himself that you hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t like him to be this... off. He always wore that smug grin, that careless energy that made everything feel like a joke. But now? He looked like he was carrying something heavy, something too complicated to shake off.

You wanted to ask him what was going on, but you knew better. If Gojo didn’t bring it up, he wasn’t going to. You could tell that much, even with the unease simmering beneath his usually cool exterior.

You both reached the convenience store, the automatic doors sliding open with a soft whoosh as you entered. The familiar hum of the coolers and the bright fluorescent lights did little to ease the tension hanging between you. You found a seat near the back, not really feeling hungry or in the mood to browse, so you just sat there, hands folded in your lap, eyes following Gojo as he wandered over to the drinks section.

You watched him from the corner of your eye, expecting him to grab his usual—his go-to strawberry iced tea, the one he always joked about being his secret weapon—but to your surprise, his hand reached for something different. He grabbed a can of beer, the silver can catching the dim light as he turned towards the cashier.

Your brows furrowed slightly, not because you had a problem with it, but because it was so out of character for him. Gojo, the always-lighthearted, playful figure, wasn’t someone you expected to be reaching for alcohol, especially not when the atmosphere had been so... different tonight.

He returned to the seat next to you after quickly paying for the drink, the cool can in his hand now making a soft, faintly metallic sound as he cracked it open. The hiss of the carbonation was the only sound between you two for a few moments as he took a long drink, the beer slipping past his lips without the usual playful smirk that usually accompanied any of his actions.

You hesitated, the air thick with unspoken words. You weren’t sure if you should say something or just let him be, but you could feel that something was wrong—something deeper than whatever lighthearted banter he would usually throw your way. You’d known him long enough to see when something was off. Tonight, it was impossible to ignore.

Finally, after a few more moments of silence, you couldn’t hold it in any longer. You turned toward him, your voice quiet but laced with concern. “What’s going on with you, Satoru?”

He didn’t immediately respond, the can still in his hand as he stared straight ahead, his expression unreadable. His lips pressed together in a thin line as if he was weighing his words. The silence stretched on, heavy and thick with anticipation. Then, as though he couldn’t keep it inside any longer, he muttered just one word:

"Mina."

It was soft, almost lost in the distance of the moment. But hearing it—the way it left his lips so raw, so fragmented—sent a jolt through you. This wasn’t the playful Gojo you knew. This was someone who was struggling, someone who didn’t have all the answers.

You blinked, the name hanging in the air like a strange weight. Mina. You’d thought the two of them were the perfect couple. They had that effortless chemistry, the kind of bond that seemed unshakable. Gojo and Mina—it just made sense. They were the kind of pair people would look at and say, "That’s it. They’re meant to be." And yet, hearing Gojo say that name now, in the quiet of this moment, felt like a crack in a carefully built illusion.

You hadn’t expected this. The way he said it, though... so quiet, so far removed from his usual confident, teasing tone, made you pause. You’d never once imagined that Gojo—someone so composed, so unflappable—could be this thrown off by a relationship. It was unsettling to think that things might not be as perfect as they appeared.

Before you could gather your thoughts to ask what had happened, Gojo let out a long sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as if he was already exhausted by the very thought of explaining. “It’s complicated,” he said, cutting off any further questions you might have had.

You could tell from the way he said it, with that tired edge in his voice, that this wasn’t something simple. It wasn’t just an argument or a misunderstanding. There was more beneath the surface—something tangled up in emotions and expectations that Gojo clearly didn’t know how to untangle.

He took another sip from the can, his fingers tight around it once more, like he was trying to hold onto something before it slipped away.

"Tell me,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the tension creeping up your spine. "Whatever it is, you can talk to me."

He looked at the can in his hands for a long moment, his fingers white-knuckled around it. The weight of silence hung heavy in the air before he finally spoke again, his voice quieter this time.

“It’s not that she’s done anything wrong,” he muttered, as if trying to convince himself. “She’s... a good girlfriend. She hasn’t done anything bad, nothing’s wrong with her.”

He let out a frustrated breath, eyes narrowing as he traced the rim of the can with his thumb. “But... it’s like something’s missing. Like, when I first met her, I thought I saw something, you know? There was this... feeling, like we clicked or something. But now, every time I’m with her, it feels... off. It’s not her fault, she’s not doing anything different, it’s just—” He trailed off, searching for the words, but they just wouldn’t come.

He let out a quiet laugh, self-deprecating and bitter. “Maybe I built some kind of... fantasy around her, and now that I’m seeing who she really is, it doesn’t line up. I thought it was something real, but now... I’m not sure.”

You could see it, the confusion in his eyes. He wasn’t blaming her—he wasn’t even sure what was wrong, but the discomfort was there, thick and undeniable. It wasn’t that Mina had changed, but that Gojo’s perception of her had cracked, leaving him to figure out if there was anything left of what he thought was there.

You took a slow breath, trying to find the right words as you watched him wrestle with himself. You could tell this was weighing heavily on him, and it wasn’t just about Mina—it was about Gojo grappling with something deeper, something he wasn’t sure how to explain even to himself.

You leaned back slightly, your voice soft but steady. “I get it,” you said, choosing your words carefully. “When you first meet someone, it’s easy to get swept up in the feeling of it all—the excitement, the newness. And maybe... maybe you started seeing things in her that you wanted to see, or that felt right in the moment.”

You paused, allowing him to process, before continuing. “But just because you’re feeling like things aren’t clicking now, doesn’t mean it’s a lost cause. Sometimes, when we’re with someone, we get so focused on the idea of them that we forget to focus on who they really are. And maybe that's what’s throwing you off—you’re seeing the real her now, and it’s different from the image you had in your head.”

You could see the tension in his face, but you pressed on, keeping your tone gentle. “It’s not a bad thing, Gojo. People aren’t perfect, and relationships are never just about the spark you feel at the beginning. The real connection, the deep stuff, that comes over time. Maybe it’s just a matter of slowing down and letting things evolve naturally, instead of forcing them into some mold you’ve created.”

You shifted slightly, choosing to be honest with him. “It sounds like you’re scared of being disappointed or realizing that it’s not what you thought, but maybe you just need time to figure out who she really is, and who you are with her. You might not have all the answers right now, and that’s okay.”

You gave him a small, understanding smile. “Just don’t give up too soon because of some uncomfortable feelings. If you’re both willing to figure it out, it doesn’t have to be the end of something good. Sometimes it takes work to get through the doubts and see what’s really there.”

Gojo leaned back, his gaze drifting once more as if the answer was just beyond his reach. His hands rested loosely on his knees, the can in his hand now forgotten. His tone was quiet, almost tentative, as he finally spoke.

Gojo sat in silence for a moment, his eyes fixed on the floor as he processed your words. The usual intensity in his expression was softened, like he was turning over each of your points in his mind, carefully weighing them. His hands, once tense around the can, were now resting in his lap, fingers loosely intertwined as if the weight had lifted, even just slightly.

You could feel the shift, the way his posture had changed. He was listening—not just hearing—but truly taking in what you were saying. He took a deep breath, his shoulders easing as he finally looked up, meeting your gaze. There was a flicker of clarity in his eyes, though the storm wasn’t fully gone yet.

“I get it,” he said, his voice low but sincere. “I understand where you're coming from. You're right. Maybe I’ve been too focused on this idea I had about her, this... perfect picture I painted in my head. And now that it’s not lining up, it’s throwing me off. I’m just... I guess I was expecting things to be a certain way, and now it feels like I’m not even sure where I stand anymore.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as his gaze drifted down again, looking almost lost in thought. “I know you’re right. I can’t expect everything to be perfect, and I shouldn’t be so quick to judge her for not matching whatever image I had. But—” He paused, the hesitation creeping back into his voice.

"But..." you prompted gently, knowing there was more he was holding back.

Gojo’s eyes flicked to you, a mixture of frustration and uncertainty crossing his features. “But… I’m just not sure if she’s the one,” he said, his voice trailing off like he was unsure even about admitting it to himself. He ran a hand through his hair, looking anywhere but at you for a moment, as if the words felt too heavy.

“It’s not like I don’t care about her. I do. And she’s a good person. She’s been nothing but kind to me, and we get along well enough. But... I don’t know. It’s just this nagging feeling I can’t shake. Like, maybe we’re not as compatible as I thought we were. Like, something’s missing.” He let out a frustrated sigh, staring at the ground for a long moment.

He looked up at you then, his expression conflicted. “I don’t want to keep second-guessing myself, but at the same time... I don’t want to lead her on if I’m not sure. I don’t want to be the guy who’s just going through the motions, thinking it’ll work out, when deep down I’m not sure if we’re actually right for each other. It wouldn’t be fair to her.”

He glanced at you with a bit of vulnerability in his eyes, a rare sight for Gojo. “I mean, I don’t want to keep dragging her into something if I’m not sure I can give her what she needs. And I can’t help but wonder if... if I’m just waiting for something that isn’t there.”

He let the silence linger for a beat before he shook his head, running a hand over his face. “It’s not that I don’t like her. It’s just... am I really feeling what I thought I was? Or was it just... a good idea in my head?”

You hesitated, unsure of the right thing to say, because this wasn’t exactly the kind of situation you were used to dealing with. Gojo was always so confident, so sure of himself, and now, seeing him so lost—it felt unfamiliar and honestly, a little overwhelming.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, unsure how to ease his tension. You knew that you couldn’t just throw out words of wisdom like it was all simple, because it wasn’t. It wasn’t simple for him, and you didn’t want to make it worse by trying to give advice that sounded too rehearsed.

After a long pause, you spoke, trying to find a balance between understanding and honesty. “I mean, I can’t tell you what to do. It’s not like I have the answers for this kind of stuff.” You let out a soft, nervous laugh, realizing that you weren’t exactly the expert here.

“But...” You trailed off, trying to gather your thoughts. “You’re not alone in feeling confused about this. Relationships are messy, and sometimes, it’s hard to know what the right thing is. What you’re feeling—doubt, uncertainty—it’s not abnormal. It’s just... part of figuring things out.”

You fidgeted a little, glancing down at your hands. “I guess what I’m trying to say is... it’s okay not to have all the answers. I think you just need to give yourself permission to take a step back. Maybe let it go a bit slower, without all the pressure to know if it's ‘the one’ right away. And if something’s still unclear, then... you can figure it out. It doesn’t have to be right or wrong all at once.”

You looked up at him again, your voice softer. “It’s just, don’t feel like you have to have it all figured out right now. I’m not sure if that helps or anything, but... that’s the best I got.”

Gojo was quiet for a moment, taking everything in, and you couldn’t help but wonder if your words had actually made any impact. But then he turned to you, a small smile tugging at his lips. It wasn’t his usual teasing grin, but something softer, almost relieved.

“Man, look at you getting all deep and philosophical. Didn’t know you had it in you,” he teased, his voice light and playful.

You blinked, feeling a rush of heat to your face. “Shut up,” you muttered, trying to act like you weren’t completely embarrassed by the whole thing. “I’m just trying to help, okay?”

Gojo chuckled, clearly enjoying the way you reacted. “I know, I know. But seriously, I didn’t think you were the ‘advice-giving’ type. I’ll be honest, that was a little... sappy.”

You huffed, crossing your arms and glaring at him, though you could feel the warmth on your cheeks. “Well, maybe you need it. You act like you have everything figured out, but look at you now—getting all lost in your own head.”

He held his hands up in mock surrender, still grinning. “Okay, okay, I get it. Sappy, but helpful. Can’t deny that. But don’t let it go to your head.”

You looked at him, now slightly less flustered, and offered a small smile. “Yeah, well, I’m just saying... Sometimes things aren’t as simple as we want them to be. It’s okay not to have everything figured out right away. Relationships take time.”

Gojo met your eyes, his expression more thoughtful now, and he let out a long breath. “Yeah... I guess I’ve been putting too much pressure on myself to have it all figured out. Thanks for the reminder.” His smile came back, softer this time. “You’ve got a point. Maybe I do need to take a step back and just see where it goes.”

You nodded, feeling a little more at ease now. “It’s not a race, ‘Toru. Don’t rush it. Just let things happen as they do.”

There was a comfortable silence between you for a moment, before Gojo broke it, his tone still teasing but less guarded.

“Alright, alright. I’ll try to take it slow, philosopher,” he said with a wink.

You rolled your eyes, but the tension had definitely eased. “Yeah, yeah, just don’t get all sappy on me again.”

Gojo grinned, clearly in a better place than before. “I’ll try to spare you from that. But hey, next time you drop some deep wisdom on me, I’ll be ready.”

You flushed a little again but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “Don’t push it, Gojo.”

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

As the two of you walked back home, the air between you had shifted. The tension that had lingered for so long was finally gone, replaced by a quiet comfort that settled over both of you. You found yourself walking in step with Gojo, the rhythm of your footsteps syncing naturally as you let the silence between you stretch, not feeling the need to fill it with words.

Now that the weight of the conversation had lifted, you allowed your gaze to wander to him, something you hadn’t done too openly before.

There was something almost disarming about Gojo when the playful edge in his voice softened, when he wasn’t in “Gojo mode.” His features, though still sharp and striking, held a kind of warmth that you hadn’t expected to see, a rawness that only revealed itself in moments like this—when he was being real with you.

His eyes, usually full of that mischievous glint, looked calmer now, more reflective, and as the light from the streetlamps caught his hair, it almost seemed to glow with an ethereal quality. The way he carried himself, effortlessly cool yet undeniably human, made you pause and just take him in, appreciating him for a moment. His presence felt different now—less overwhelming and more... grounding.

And then, as if on cue, you caught yourself smiling, soft and almost wistful. It was strange, the way just being near him—hearing his voice, feeling the quiet ease that had settled between you—seemed to heal something inside you, something you hadn’t even realized was aching until it started to fade away.

It was like the weight of the world didn’t seem so heavy anymore. Like, somehow, everything felt a little more manageable in the moment.

You allowed yourself to enjoy the moment a little longer, the quiet warmth between you two still lingering as you walked the rest of the way home. But even as you let yourself bask in the calm, a part of you couldn't fully relax. Deep down, you knew this wasn't something that would last long. Gojo had been here tonight because of his issue with Mina, and once that was sorted out, you figured things would go back to how they were before—back to the teasing, playful banter and the walls he'd built up around himself.

It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy this version of him, the one that was more genuine, more grounded—it was just that you knew the reality. Once he figured things out with Mina, he’d go back to being the Gojo everyone knew. And you’d go back to being just... you.

You reached the front door of your apartment, the familiar hum of the city in the background, and paused. Turning to face Gojo, you smiled, though the weight of your thoughts lingered in the back of your mind.

"Thanks for walking me home," you said, keeping your voice light, though there was a little more softness to it than usual.

Gojo looked at you, his usual playful grin starting to creep back, but there was something different in his eyes. A flicker of sincerity from earlier still hung there. "Of course," he said with a casual shrug. "What would I do if you got caught up in some crazy situation without me? You know I can’t let that happen."

His voice was light, but the way he said it carried an undercurrent of care, something unspoken that made the words feel warmer than they usually would.

You raised an eyebrow, unable to help a small laugh. “I’m pretty sure I could manage, but I’ll take it as a compliment.”

He shot you that signature grin, the one that could charm just about anyone, but there was still a softness to it now—an openness that didn’t quite match his usual carefree demeanor.

"Hey, I’m just saying," he said with a smirk, "if you ever need a bodyguard, you know where to find me."

Despite the playfulness in his tone, you could feel the weight of the moment pressing in on both of you. The reality of the situation, of his relationship with Mina, still lingered in the air, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that this moment—this brief, real side of Gojo—might slip away once everything was sorted out.

You pushed the thought down and smiled, trying to keep the mood light. "I’ll keep that in mind," you replied, though part of you wasn’t sure you’d ever need him that way.

There was a brief pause, and then you cleared your throat, pulling yourself back into the present. "I really do hope things work out with Mina, Satoru," you said, your voice sincere. "You deserve to get everything figured out."

Gojo’s smile faltered slightly at the mention of Mina. It wasn’t the usual teasing grin anymore, but something softer, more thoughtful, as though the thought of her pulled him out of the moment for a second.

He reached up, almost absentmindedly, to ruffle your hair, a subtle attempt to lighten the mood. “You worry too much,” he said, his voice a little quieter, his fingers running through your hair in a playful but gentle motion.

You flinched, swatting his hand away lightly. “Satoru, come on, you’re messing it up.”

Gojo chuckled softly at your reaction, but instead of pulling his hand away, he kept it there, his fingers still resting on your head. He gave you a gentle pat this time, his touch light but lingering, almost like he didn’t want to break the moment just yet.

He was staring at you, his expression unreadable, as if there was something in his gaze that wasn’t quite matching his usual carefree attitude. For a split second, the usual playful energy around him seemed to dissipate, replaced by something softer. Something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Despite how many times Gojo had been touchy with you before, this time was different. His gaze felt heavier, more intense, and it made you feel uncomfortably aware of the way his hand rested on you. A soft heat spread through you, and before you knew it, your cheeks were flushing, the warmth creeping up your neck.

Then, almost absentmindedly, Gojo’s hand dropped from your hair to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over the soft skin beneath your eye. You froze at the touch, your breath catching in your throat as the tender motion sent a shiver down your spine.

His touch was so gentle, so unexpectedly intimate, that it left you momentarily speechless. Gojo’s thumb continued its slow, soothing stroke over your cheek, his eyes still locked onto yours, watching the way your expression shifted.

For a moment, everything else seemed to fade away—the night, the world around you, even the uncertainty that had been lingering in the air. It was just him, just you, and the quiet tension that seemed to wrap itself around the both of you, neither of you daring to move or speak.

You couldn’t help but feel your heart race, unsure of what this moment meant or how to react to it. You’d never felt quite so exposed in front of him, as if his touch and gaze were pulling something out of you that you didn’t know was there.

Gojo’s smile was still soft, his eyes not leaving yours, but there was something about the way he looked at you—something different than before. A strange vulnerability, maybe, or perhaps just a shared moment of silence that neither of you had the words to explain.

And for a heartbeat, everything felt... unsettled, as though the line between what was familiar and what was new had blurred just enough to make you question whether you were still in control of the situation.

You broke the silence, your voice barely above a whisper, but it cut through the stillness like a soft breeze. “Satoru?”

The sound of your voice seemed to snap Gojo out of whatever trance he had been in. His eyes blinked rapidly, as though he were shaking himself back to reality, and the softness that had filled the air between you suddenly wavered.

Gojo blinked rapidly, his eyes shifting as if he were suddenly realizing what had just occurred. His hand pulled away from your cheek like it was almost burning, and he stepped back, an almost startled expression crossing his face. The teasing, playful demeanor faltered for a second, and you could see the surprise flicker in his eyes—not just from you, but perhaps from the moment itself.

"Ah... sorry," he muttered quickly, running a hand through his hair in an awkward gesture that didn’t quite match his usual calm. “Didn’t mean to... uh... get so close.”

He cleared his throat, visibly trying to regain his usual composure. With a shaky smile, he waved his hand as if brushing it off. "Anyway, I should get going."

You nodded, a strange tightness in your chest. He was already backing away, his voice lighter than before but with a hint of haste in it. "Take care, alright?" His tone was almost clipped, a sharp contrast to the softness that had lingered moments before.

You wanted to say something, to stop him, but the words got stuck in your throat. You simply watched as Gojo, with one last glance over his shoulder, turned and started walking down the hallway.

He didn't look back this time, his figure disappearing into the distance and then into the lift, the doors sliding shut behind him with a soft, almost final sound.

The quietness that followed felt almost suffocating, the cool night air filling the space where he had stood. You stood there, staring at the spot where he had just been, unsure of what to make of everything. Your heart was still racing, the lingering touch on your cheek echoing in your mind, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted, but you couldn't quite put your finger on what it was.

As the sound of the elevator faded away, all you were left with was the lingering memory of him, his touch, his gaze—and the sudden weight of everything unsaid.

#angst #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk #jjk x you #gojo angst #tiiraameesuTOTGA

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peterparkersnose · 2 years ago

Text

Give In

pairing: Joel Miller x reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings: suicidal thoughts, pining possibly one sided, ANGST (just a large angst piece, i wanted some joel angst so I made it), description of depression, emotional dependency on a person, arguing, fluff sprinkled in, implied age gap not specified, reference to pregnancy, mentions of substance and alcohol abuse, joel is lowkey toxic and uses reader

a/n hi loves I wrote this after the first episode aired, so if anything contradicts anything in the future in this story that is why. also, i didnt know how to end it so im sorry if the ending is a bit choppy. happy last of us sunday!

summary Y/N has feelings for Joel that she can’t control anymore

Part 2 here

masterlist

join the tag list

read time: 8 min 33 seconds

The harsh chill of the autumn afternoon swept your hair off your shoulders. The ration line was as long as ever, but seemed to be moving quickly. A stray dog barked as others murmured on the street. Staring down at your boots, you bit at your chapped lips.

“You’ve been avoiding me,”

His voice sent chills up your spine. He was behind you, must have slipped in line without the other person noticing. Of course now was the time he decided to confront you. And he wasn’t wrong.

Straightening your back, you turn towards him.

“Have I?” you asked, raising your eyebrows slightly. The line moved forward and so did you.

“Tess said you weren’t feeling well.”

She was partially right. It was the blatant lie you were telling the very few who were close to you. You were physically fine.

“I’m fine, Joel.” you said promptly, turning a cold shoulder to the older man.

“If you need any meds or anything…” he began. You knew Joel had anything you needed. Quite literally.

“Next!” The FEDRA soldier called, motioning for you to get in the final line. You gave Joel a tight lipped smile before disappearing in the crowd.

Back at your sad excuse for an apartment, you poked your fork at your stale meal. You tried to think about todays’s job but the thought of Joel Miller consumed you.

How his hands felt on your skin, how soft his hair could be, how much he respected you in private. Flashbacks of previous nights where he had snuck over and stayed with you burned in your brain.

You never thought the hookup would turn in to feelings. Especially in this world. Feelings you were sure he wouldn’t reciprocate. Joel wasn’t a very emotionally available man. And he had Tess- rumors of them being together had been going on for years. Sure, they deny it. But you see the way he looks at her sometimes. His eyes burn with the lust you want from him, but there staring at her.

Tess was friendly and all, you got along quite well with her in fact. Jobs worked with Tess usually went better than others. But the knowledge that she goes home to him every night almost ate you alive. You felt used every time you would watch her turn the alleyway to their apartment.

Roommates my ass.

It had been over a month since the last time you saw Joel.

He was right, you were avoiding him. Taking the jobs you knew he wouldn’t dare go by such as childcare. Taking a different route home to avoid any run ins. Leaving your lights off and sitting in the dark to possibly deter him away from your place. All your little queues worked.

And the pain grew day by day.

You layed in your mattress with your face buried in your pillow. It stopped smelling like him weeks ago, but you liked to pretend it still did.

You couldn’t live like this anymore.

Pills weren’t numbing enough. Alcohol wasn’t as fun as it used to be. The constant state of depression in this damned district was enough to make you want to end it.

But seeing him across the alleyway talking to a group of people or in the line for rations was enough to keep that tiny spark lit inside of you.

There wasn’t much else to look forward to in this world besides others. Living the same day your whole life is miserable without your spark of joy in it.

Sleep was close, you could feel it. Your thin blankets were just cutting it for the night. As the dreams began to dance in your head, you were awoken by a quiet knock on your door.

“For fucks sake,” you groaned, flipping over in bed. You ignored the knocks. They became more persistent.

The old doorknob then dropped to the floor, startling you awake. You didn’t even have to guess who it was. The door slowly creaked open as you heard him curse to himself.

“I’ll fix it later,” he sighed, picking it off your floor and placing it on your countertop. He pushed one of your folding chairs next to your table up against the door to keep it sturdy.

“So your just breaking into apartments now?” you snapped, sitting up right in bed. “I needed to see you.” he protested.

“I never knew Joel Miller to need anything.”

He sighed and rested against your countertop. “I need to know,”

“Know what?” you asked, wrapping a blanket around your exposed shoulders. A tank top wasn’t ideal to sleep in, in these conditions.

“What’s wrong.” he said bluntly. “I said there’s nothing wrong. What the hell are you doing walking around freely at night?” you yelled, realizing the time was way past midnight. The sounds of soldiers a few floors down outside your apartment began to yell. How did he move past them?

“You sick?” he asked in a more hushed tone, walking towards you. “Respiratory? Head pain? Joints? You pregnant?” he somewhat joked, looking over you in bed.

“Shut up.” you said coldly. “Can you please just go?”

You knew Joel wasn’t a good listener. “What is it?” he said sternly, sitting down next to your body in bed. He grabbed your wrist ever so slightly. Your pulse was shaking in his grasp.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

You looked at the other side of your apartment, out the window. Rain had began to slowly plague the window. Ignoring Joel’s touch, you watched as the few drops raced to the bottom of the window.

“After everything I’ve done for you?” Joel sighed, not letting go of you.

“Stop, please. J-just stop talking to me.” you said, lying through your teeth. He could sense the pain hiding behind those eyes. “I’m not leaving.” he protested.

“Look at me.”

You turned to face him. His eyes were locked on yours. A genuine worried look was on his face. He looked softer, nothing like you had ever seen before.

It was almost as if someone asked you if you were okay when you were very obviously not. Silent tears rolled down your face as you tried to catch your breathe.

The man who you couldn’t love was staring in to your soul. There was no way you ever could love him. He was too mean, too stern, too old, too angry for you. The two of you were polar opposites. But as the saying goes, ‘opposites attract’.

Joel was unsure on what to do. Tess never cried. Hell, you never cried. He racked his brain for something, just something to soothe you.

He offered out a hand. Against your better judgement you took it. Connecting his other hand to your cheek, he tried to wipe away the streak of tears silently leaving your eyes. He held you tightly in your bed, stroking your hair as your head quickly made contact with the crook of his neck.

“I wish I didn’t have these feelings,” you cried into his embrace. Joel was confused on what you were getting at, but he ignored it. He tried to shush you in a soothing way.

“No, please. I wish I didn’t have these feelings… but I do.”

Joel froze. “What?” he asked, holding you in place.

You pulled back and looked at him. It felt like the first time over again. “Look at me and tell me you don’t feel a thing.” you hiccupped.

“I…” Joel sighed, closing his eyes for a moment and letting a breathe of air go.

“Say it.” you demanded.

The silence in the room was deafening.

“I can’t.” Joel said quickly. He looked down at his knees on your mattress.

“I think you should go.” you sighed, laying back on your side and facing the opposite wall.

He listened. Finally, Joel caught a hint. The sound of him walking away made you long for him more than ever. But it was good. The feeling of him leaving, knowing you were right. Joel Miller wasn’t a man who could love. At least not anymore.

Your sudden pride stopped when you heard his boots thud against the floor. Then the all familiar zip of his jeans followed by the hit of him placing them on your wooden chair next to your bed.

He rested a hand on your thigh as he peeled up the blanket that was stuck to your legs. Slowly, he moved down next to you in the tiny space you were leaving him.

“You don’t listen.” you huffed, still not giving him enough space on the bed.

“When do I ever?” he chuckled, wrapping his arm around your waist.

Fuck it. You gave in.

You allowed his arm to move closer to the underside of your breasts. Scooting over in bed, you gave him more space for his legs to entwine with you. His boxer’s material rubbed against the back of your thigh. It smelt like him; Wet grass and expired generic soap scent had never smelt better.

Sleep kindly greeted you once you felt his breathing slow. Trying to match his, you fell into the deep sleep you had been yearning for, for what seemed like weeks.

The absence in the morning was startling.

You struggled to move, hoping that the previous night was just a horrifying dream. A sigh escaped from your lips when you saw his boots sitting against the wall where he placed them last night.

The clanking sound of tools made you turn. On the other side of your small studio apartment, there he sat at your doorframe attempting to fix your door handle.

The overcast sky stayed, but you could tell it was early morning by the chatter outside.

“Shit!” Joel hissed, grabbing his finger in pain. “Damn fucking…”

He looked up and noticed you watching him.

“You alright?” you asked, watching him in amusement as he attempted to fix your door.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, sucking the tip of his finger. “Haven’t fixed a door in a good twenty years.” he muttered, wiping off the excess blood on his already dirtied jeans.

“Go back to bed, It’s still early.” he suggested, going through the tiny tool kit he had given you as a previous gift.

“This is more entertaining than sleep,” you chuckled, placing your feet on the cold ground and getting out of bed. “You want any breakfast? I don’t know if I have anything good here but…”

“Nah. Tess’l be expecting me.”

The sheer thought of Tess waiting at their home for him was enough to ruin the whole night you had before.

Joel looked up to you after your lack of a response. He noticed the demeanor change in your face. “Everything okay?” he asked, turning back to the doorknob he was almost finished fixing.

“You seem to go sour every time I mention Tess.”

“I wonder why,” you muttered under your breathe, attempting to open a tuna can for breakfast. You tried not to dry heave as the scent of the old fish met your nose. Tuna was never a favorite meal, especially for breakfast. But, it’s all you had.

Joel pretended like he didn’t hear you, but he heard you loud and clear. “We have a run to do today. You understand that, right?”

A bitter ‘mhm’ came from your lips as you shook the prepackaged coffee in your hand before ripping off the seal.

Joel sighed and placed the screw driver down dramatically. Joel’s knees cracked as he got up from his position. “You always gotta fucking act jealous. Don’t you? Ruinin’ a nice morning.”

“Jealous?” you said, raising your voice.

“What the hell do you even want from me?” you scorned, on the brink of tears. He could see through you like glass. You hated to admit it, but he knew you like the back of his hand.

Joel wished he could shout out the answer, but his ego kept it in.

You froze with your back turned to him and set down the brittle coffee mug. “Your always leaving me to go to her…”

“Because we’re business partners, Y/N. Don’t you get it? Don’t you hate livin’ the same damn day over and over again? It’s why I come to see you.”

“Stop,” you whispered, now face to face with him. “Stop yelling. Please, it’s too fucking early to get into that shit.”

“Really? Tell me you don’t loose your mind living the same day, same drama for years!” he yelled. “Always you being jealous. Don’t you ever get sick of it?”

Anger consumed you. Proof that the two of you would never work. He’s just a bitter old man.

“You know I would give anything to leave this damn QZ! To live a normal life, not fucking be here.” you yelled, with a finger now pointed at his face. You were avoiding the original accusation. Jealousy.

“Tell me.” you said, with a quieter but angrier tone. “Am I really just your fuck toy?”

Joel stepped back for a moment, stunned at what you just said. Guilt seemed to wrack his nerves as the realization hit him.

You were in love with him.

“Is that what you think?” he asked, approaching you with a sorrowful more soft look. “What else am I supposed to think? You come here, use me, and leave and go back to her.”

The feeling of letting go of all that emotion felt healing. The sudden aftermath of realizing what you just had accused him of made you feel somewhat guilty.

“No,” he sighed, grabbing your hand. “That- no. Absolutely not Y/N.”

His other hand reached for your chin, and brought your face up to his gaze. You could feel his heat on your skin.

“Understand…” he began to say. “Understand what?” you whispered back. A sly smile came to his lips.

“Give in,” he whispered, dropping your hand and wrapping his around your waist.

You melted into his grasp as he kissed you. Joel hadn’t kissed anyone in years. The hesitation from him only brought out the dominance in you.

As the two of you mutually pulled away, you wanted nothing more as to be back where you were just seconds ago.

“Understand that it’s hard.” he said, still holding you close. “I…”

“I know.” you said, cutting off his words.

You were an anxious, sorrowful over-thinker and he was the bitter, closed off introvert.

“I’ll be back,” he said, with a slighter more chipper tone. “Tonight. We have to get this damn car battery and…”

“Stay safe,”

“I promise.” Joel said. He really did not want to leave you. The thought of the two of you spending today lazily in bed was very tempting.

“But please believe me Y/N when I say, you are and never have been just a ‘fuck toy’.”

He squeezed your hand once more and then dropped it. Silence filled the apartment after he left.

The thought of how you tasted haunted Joel Miller’s mind the whole day.

Part 2

tag list: @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @samanthacookieone @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @scoliobean @avengersfan25

#peterparkersnose #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel miller imagine #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller pedro pascal #the last of us #the last of us hbo #joel miller headcanon #joel miller one shot #peterparkersnosework

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mirensiart · 4 months ago

Note

i heard you wish for knowledge on roolie. and for today i shall forbid my role as a ghost and become a genie. :D

SO. Hyrule's games don't really have too much of a story on their own, my guy is hcs galore here. But what is canon is that after he killed ganon, his blood became cursed, meaning if he dies ganon will be brought back from the dead to reign terror over hyrule, with no hero to stop him.

Now in Zelda 2 (the adventure of link) he successfully defeats all Ganons servants who know the ritual to bring back ganon, saving hyrule and ensuring its safety. but people saw that and went "nah" so in most hcs he can still be used to bring back the ugly blue pig.

this means that monsters and a cult called "The Eyes of Ganon" most often are constantly hunting him down to kill him and use his blood to bring back their master, meaning poor dude is always on the run and has no real area to call home. some people hc that he also stays away from towns for this reason, to not draw monsters there like the selfless hero he is

he also is often in fanfic deathly afraid of bleeding, because it draws monsters to him. in the pain-share au this might also add emotional pain onto physical pain because first he gets a wound bad enough to bleed, and then he's freaking out and panicking on top of that

onto his spells. hyrule in-game has a fire spell, a thunder spell, a life spell, a jump spell and a fairy spell. the jump spell isnt really mentioned because in most stories this guy is already capable of jumping without magic. his fire spell casts fire around him, thunder spell strikes lighting all around (which could be pretty risky for fighting in groups), life spell heals himself or others as we see with twi in the lu comic, and fairy spell turns him into a fairy. (a lot of people hc him to be a fae because of this)

he has a magic bar though, and a limited amount of magic he can use. many people hc that if he gets too low on magic it could be dangerous, but thats not canon in the game.

zelda 1's plot is pretty much just "get triangle, kill pig" and thats it. zelda 2 is that princess zelda has been cursed to fall asleep and cannot be woken up, so to save her sleeping beauty ass hyrule goes and gets the triforce. along the way he finds ganons servants in dungeons, and defeats them so ganon cannot be ressurected. he eventually finds an old man in a dungeon, and has to fight his shadow (which btw is the hardest bossfight ever like wtf) and upon defeating it, proves himself worthy of the triforce and gets it. he then cures zelda of the curse, wakes her up, and they make out. yes the last part was actually in the game.

hyrules placement in the timeline is right after legends in the downfall timeline, so they get to be the downfall duo together. also hyrule is often hc with a huge hero-worship thing going on with legend, and he's afraid to dishonor or disappoint his ancestor.

and thats about all i know at least, i may be wrong and im sure someone will correct me if i am, but i wanted to provide info anyways! im sorry for the huge ask btw ;-;

Wow, ok! First of all, thank u very much for all this, like this has been super helpful!

Like, seriously, tysm for taking ur time to explain everything to me, I really appreciate it 🥹💖

I did know some of these things so I suppose I wasn't that lost on hyrule's lore!

I do enjoy the downfall duo tbh, I did know beforehand that hyrule is the last one in the downfall timeline, since I used to own hyrule historia ages ago (it got lost during one of the many times I changed apartments 😔) I think it's cute for hyrule to have a hero worship on him and for legend to be soft to hyrule too lol

Anyway! This has been super informative, I'll make sure to keep it in mind from now on, thank you!

#one day i will play his games i swear #miry's ask box

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viceroywrites · 11 days ago

Text

deja vu - part seven (stan route)

planning out your road trip through the pacific northwest, you find yourself inexplicably drawn to the town of gravity falls.

little did you know that this town held more memories than you could have possibly imagined.

too bad you didn't remember any of them.

stan x fem!reader / ford x fem!reader

choose your own adventure / contains fluff and angst (w/ happy ending)

part six | part eight

interested in the ford route? click here for masterlist.

The ambient sounds of the Mystery Shack on a weekend were quite serene.

The sound of Abuelita’s telenovelas playing in the background, the creaking of the worn wood floors each time the younger set of Pines twins walked across their room, the top popping off a can of Pitt Cola before Stan takes a loud sip.

Thankfully, the layers of dirt and concrete muffled the sounds of bickering that echoed through the basement that would quickly unravel the calm atmosphere upstairs. The raised voices barely audible through the vending machine that sits in the gift shop.

You were on your fourth day of watching back your memories with Ford. To say it was a rollercoaster each day was an understatement. It was a 50/50 toss up on how the day would end. Half the days you and Ford would end up not talking to each other until the next day. The other half, you felt yourself getting closer to him, gracious for his presence and adding more clarity to the scenes that played before you.

Today was an example of the former, your arms crossed over your chest after asking Ford to pause the tape after a particularly nasty fight the two of you had just played.

“Y/N, your interpretation of what I said was completely off-base.” Ford snaps, getting a bit defensive despite his promise that he would not try to defend his actions this time around. He couldn’t help himself, his mind defaulting to the logic that made the most sense to him.

Old habits tend to die hard, it seems, when it comes to your dynamic with Ford.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know there were multiple ways to interpret you telling me that I was clueless. Please enlighten me.” You say with a sardonic tone, your expression sour. These past few days, it has started to dawn on you that Ford’s knowledge was somewhat limited in the emotional department.

Ford pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out an exasperated sigh.

“Listen, if you just give me a chance to explain myself, what I meant to say was that you were clueless in the sense that you didn’t understand what I was up against at the time. I wasn’t commenting on your intelligence.” Ford attempts to assuage the impact of his words.

“Stanford, how is that any better?” You throw your hands up in frustration, “I knew you felt like you had the weight of the world on your shoulders, but that doesn’t excuse you taking it out on others, the very people trying to help you!”

“I didn’t ask for you to help me! It was your choice to give up your dream job back then! I didn’t need you!” A flurry of biting words leave Ford’s mouth before he can think about the consequences and if he truly even meant what he was saying.

‘Fine, I don’t need your help!’

‘I don’t need you! I don’t need anyone!’

Those phrases echoed over and over in your head the past few days, sending you right back to the foggy memory of what you had surmised to be your last interaction with Ford.

“Then what’s the point of me being here, Ford? If you didn’t need me then, you clearly don’t need me now.” You ask, about to turn your heel to head back upstairs.

Your own ego would not allow you to just stand there taking Ford’s harsh words, and you had learned over the last few days that sometimes you had to choose your battles with the stubborn intellectual.

Ford freezes at your response, the weight of your words hitting him like a bucket of cold water washing over him.

The words you uttered were eerily similar to the exact words you had uttered when you left him thirty years ago.

‘Then what’s the point of me being here, Ford? Let me just get out of your way then.’

His hand reaches out, just like it did all those years ago, grasping your wrist firmly. You turn to look back at Ford, about to snatch your hand away, but the familiarity of this scene stops you.

You’ve been here before, haven’t you?

Old habits do die hard.

“I-I’m sorry.” Ford says, “I didn’t mean what I said..”

“Then why say it?” You ask, hurt evident in your tone. “Why ask me to come with you all those years ago to Oregon if you didn’t need me?”

“Because… I did need you. It’s just my pride got in the way, I wanted to do it on my own. The concept of asking for help was hard enough and I didn’t want to feel useless to you… in the past, I had to be pushed to a breaking point to ask. Even then… I had a hard time accepting help, believing that I had all the answers.” Ford rambled out in the best words he could find at the moment to explain himself.

You needed a moment to digest his explanation, still needing time to work through the pain his words had caused in the first place.

“Mind if we call it for today? I know we only got through four hours of memories but I just need some time to think it over, Ford.” You ask, hastily pulling your hand away from Ford’s grasp.

Despite being in such a rush to get your memories back a few days prior, you were at your limit already for today.

Ford’s hand falls limp at his side, admitting defeat. Despite his stubbornness, he knew it was not optimal timing to be insisting you push onward especially when he was on thin ice in regards to how you felt about him at the moment, “Very well, let me know if you change your mind.”

After making your way up the staircase, you push against the vending machine door, closing it behind you. The gift shop is empty, Melody and Soos closing down the Shack for the day to visit her family up in Portland.

There was also a part of you that was putting off the inevitable. You know you were getting dangerously close to your final fight based on the loose timeline Ford had explained to you and the amount of dreams you had checked off in your journal. You had to admit that you were terrified about how you would feel about Ford at the end of this all, especially after forming bonds with the people who were dearest to him.

The thoughts were getting a bit too overwhelming, and you decided to head outside to get some fresh air. Descending down the front steps of the Mystery Shack, you decide to take a walk around the perimeter of the house, not having wandered around the surrounding forest much since you first arrived. The extent of your exploration of the Shack had been mostly contained indoors, wanting to familiarize yourself with all the settings of your dreams.

Your hand runs over the old wood as you walk along the side of the Shack, tracing over the patches of sheet metal and newer wood that covered up the holes that had been created during Weirdmageddon. It suddenly hits you that just a few days ago, this was just a silly little tourist attraction on your way up north. Little did you know that day, you actually were walking around the house that held so many lost memories, a ghost of your past just outside.

The hum of the ice machine grows louder with each step you take towards the back of the Mystery Shack. Rounding the corner, you are greeted to the sight of Stan, lounging on an old beat up couch on the back porch of Shack, nursing a cold Pitt Cola in his left hand. The gold medallion that rests on his exposed gray chest hairs, courtesy of the top two buttons of his red Hawaiian shirt undone, twinkles in the sunlight. In his right hand, he holds a broom, causing you to raise an eyebrow in curiosity.

“Busy sweeping the back porch?” Your voice calls out, startling him as he suddenly raises the broom in defense though quickly dropping it at the sight of you.

“Jesus, you can’t sneak up on me like that, toots! At my age, I might have a heart attack right here!” Stan groans, dropping the broom to the side before glancing out into the field, “Caught some gnomes trying to rummage through the garbage and had to chase ‘em off. One of them is still obsessed with Mabel and always tries to get something of hers out of the trash.”

You grimace at the thought of these small bearded man still pining after the fourteen year old, walking up the porch steps, “Man, they’re tenacious, aren’t they?” You mutter, standing in front of Stan, “Mind if I join you?”

Stan wordlessly pats the seat next to him in response, taking a sip from his Pitt Cola. You take the seat graciously, sinking into the worn out cushions.

“So I take it that today's memory session was a bust, considering you’re out here.” Stan commented, his arm dangling against the back of the couch as he looked out into the forest. His eyes narrow, giving the gnome that pops its head out a warning glare before it disappears back into the bush.

You wished these couch cushions would sink you further into its depths after hearing Stan’s comment, “A bit of an understatement.” You trail off, not wanting to go into too much on account of Stan potentially defending Ford. You wouldn’t even blame him if he did. After all, you were a stranger just a week ago.

Stan could sense your hesitation to elaborate and decides to break the ice himself, “You don’t have to tiptoe around me, ya know. I know my brother can be a pain in the ass sometimes, I’ve probably thought whatever you’re thinking at some point, especially last summer.”

Sometimes you forget that only just this year had the Pines twins repaired their fractured relationship after decades of being apart. Despite the occasional banter and arguments that are typical with any sibling dynamic, it was apparent to any onlooker that Stan and Ford had each others’ backs.

There’s a sharp inhale through your nostrils, mustering up the courage to blurt out and get off your chest the first thought that comes to mind to summarize your feelings towards Ford at the moment, “You know your brother can be a stubborn asshole sometimes. I know he means well but he just always needs to defend his actions, there’s always some logical and seemingly justifiable reason as to why he did what he did.”

Stan balks out a deep laugh, glancing over at you, “You’re preaching to the choir, I think Poindexter got so used to being right growing up in the eyes of our old man that whenever we’d get into arguments, he’d just find a way to logic out how he wasn’t in the wrong. Though I can’t say I’m any better, I think it runs in the Pines genes to be a little bit stubborn.” He admits with a shrug.

You let out a soft laugh yourself, seeing first hand recently how their strong personalities clash at times. You shake your head, “If you’re both so stubborn then, how’d you two make up after not speaking for decades?” You pause, asking the question that you ask yourself often, “How do you forgive him when he’s hurt you so much?”

Stan takes a long sip from his can of Pitt. He’s not sure how to quite answer your question. There weren't some magical words or things that Ford said or did to get him to forgive him and vice-versa. He wished it was that simple, but giving forgiveness was similar to gambling. There was always the potential that the more you gave, the more it could bite you in the ass. Forgiving Ford meant accepting that he could get hurt again some day, but it felt worth the gamble for the opportunity to have his brother as a part of his life again.

Was it wrong of him to give his perspective even though you were asking him?

Was he meddling with his brother building a relationship with you again, romantic or not?

Would he ruin it just like he had ruined Ford’s chances of getting into his dream school?

Stan takes a look into your eyes that are confused and desperate for answers. It’s scary how he can see bits of himself just this past summer in you, and it dawns on him that only he of all people could truly understand the pain you were experiencing. He lets out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck out of vexation, trying to find the right words to say.

“Look, I wish there were some groundbreaking explanation that I could give you that would lay out how I was able to forgive Ford after all those years step by step…” Stan mutters, toying with the pop top of the soda. “During Weirdmageddon, Bill put the kids in danger, and Ford and I had to put aside our grudge to rescue them. After that, I lost my memory, and I spent this past year getting my memories back. Ford helped me along the way and in a way, that started to make up for everything that happened in the past.”

The mention of Bill makes your blood run cold. You knew that Dipper and Mabel were in the know about the strange happenings of Gravity Falls and actively helped Fiddleford regain his memories, but it was terrifying to think that they were involved to the point of Bill seeing them as a threat and putting their lives in danger. However, it made perfect sense that it brought the two brothers to set aside their past grudges and come together - you’ve seen first hand how much they adore the younger twins.

Stan continues, “Besides, you gotta remember Ford’s my twin brother. We’ve been together since birth. Sure, he can be a stubborn know-it-all, but at the end of the day, I’d do anything for the guy. Also it’d be a hell of a waste of all those years I invested into trying to get him back if I didn’t forgive him.”

“So you ever get a return on that investment?” You ask with a grin, causing Stan to let out a hearty chuckle. “I’d say spending the last year helping me get my memories back while also being stuck with me on a boat exploring the world was a good return. Though I’m still waiting for him to admit I’m the better looking twin.”

“Anyways, back to my point. I know my brother’s a stubborn one, the guy will debate with you for hours on a topic he thinks he knows everything about. He gets tunnel visioned so when he gets like that, focus less on the why of what happened and more on how he’ll make up for it.” Stan explains, “Trust me, he does want to make things right by you. I know he has a lot of regrets about how his actions affected you and Fiddleford.”

Stan’s perspective helped a lot as it made you realize that you spent a lot of time with Ford arguing about your memories. In wanting Ford’s perspective, it had created a scenario where Ford felt he was the expert in this situation and needed to defend his logic.

“Maybe I should try watching the memories without Ford, and talking to him about it once I’ve processed everything.” You say, “I think it’s better to ask for an apology rather than an explanation. No matter what he says, the logic behind it doesn’t take away the sting.”

“Honestly, that’s probably a good idea, doll.” Stan hums, “I know I had to take a sec to cool off before Ford and I could talk things out. Hell, there were some times that it took a day or two for me to come around.” Stan stands up suddenly, crushing the empty Pitt can in his hand and tossing it into the trash can. He glances back at you, “Since you’re free for the rest of the day, you wanna join me in taking Mabel and her friends to go mini-golfing? You’ve been down in that basement pretty much every single day, maybe getting out of the Shack will help.”

The offer is tempting, those countless hours in the cold, dark basement of the Mystery Shack may have been tolerable for Ford, but it was starting to drive you a little stir crazy.

“Sure, why not?”

90% Compatibility - For real soulmates. Start planning the wedding, now.

Mabel stares at the text before her, her purple glitter pen dropping to the floor dramatically almost in slow motion. She’s grateful that Dipper was out for the day, deciding to keep Pacifica company during her shift at Greasy’s and work on his journal as she squeezes her cheeks together in disbelief, “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!”

Hearing a loud knock on the wooden door startles Mabel out of her dazed state, and she quickly stuffs the magazine underneath her pillow when Stan sticks his head through the gap. “You good, pumpkin?” Stan asks, hearing her through the door. “I’m totally fine, Grunkle Stan! In fact I’m spectacular!” Mabel says, her voice slightly shaky. Stan raises a skeptical eyebrow but decides it’s best not to ask, “Well, we’re ready for ya downstairs to head to the mini-golf course.”

“We? Is Great Uncle Ford joining us?” Mabel asks, slipping off the bed to slide on her shoes. Stan rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, “Actually, Y/N’s gonna be joining us. She wanted to take a break today, and I figured I’d invite her to join.”

The bubbly brunette sees this as the perfect opportunity to see you and Stan’s dynamic in action, wanting to see the chemistry between the two of you first hand. “Fine by me, anything to get you out of our hair, Grunkle Stan.” Mabel says with a grin. Stan rolls his eyes, ruffling Mabel’s hair when she walks up to him despite her playful protest, “Yeah, yeah, I know you pre-teens need your space.”

“I’ll be down in a sec, Grunkle Stan. I need to grab the sweater I borrowed from Grenda.” Mabel says. The moment Stan disappears behind the door and she hears his footsteps creaking down the old staircase, she rushes to take a photo of her magazine, texting her friends.

‘Ladies, I might have a match making opportunity and I need your help!’

You can feel three pairs of eyes staring at the back of your head with intensity during the entire car ride to the Putt Hutt. Part of you wonders if there’s something off about your appearance, the other part wonders if you somehow did something that personally offended the three pre-teens that sit in the back of the El Diablo despite your introductions to Candy and Grenda being pleasant.

You lean over the console, eyebrow raising as you hear three sets of breaths hitch at your sudden movement, before whispering in Stan’s ear, “Do I have something on my face?”

Stan glances over as he’s sat at a red light, assessing your features carefully before shaking his head, “Nah, you look good like you always do.” He says nonchalantly though pauses after realizing he just complimented you, “I mean… you’re decent, ya know?” He attempts to brush it off, chuckling awkwardly.

You can’t help but laugh at his awkwardness, “Glad to know I’m decent by Stan Pines’ standard.” You tease, causing Stan to relax before he begins to press his foot on the gas the moment the light turns green.

You hear murmurs soon after but choose to brush it off, more focused on how your cheeks heated up after Stan’s casual compliment.

After parking the car, the girls rush out of the car, making a bee-line for the rental booth with you and Stan trailing behind. “Are they usually like that?” You ask Stan who shrugs, “Usually they’re yapping with each other the whole ride but I wouldn’t pay it any mind. You’re better off trying to understand quantum mechanics than the minds of pre-teens.”

Once you and Stan catch up, the two of you find yourselves whipping out your wallets at the same time. “I got this one, Stan. You’ve already been so generous with letting me stay at the Shack.” You insist, shoving the bills through the clear window which Stan promptly tries to snatch away, holding over your head, “Nuh-uh, it’s my grand-niece and her friends.” The bored, underpaid teenager worker behind the booth blows a bubble with her gum, chin propped up on her hand, as the two of you squabble.

“Grunkle Stan never insists on paying for anything. He usually tries to get out of paying.” Mabel whispers over to Candy and Grenda who watch on, their eyes flitting back and forth as if they were watching a rally during a tennis match. She watches, hearing her Grunkle’s deep chuckle resonate through the air as you try in vain to pull his arm down before faking him out, slamming your card down and pushing it towards the worker who promptly swipes it.

“Alright, you win this round, toots.” Stan huffs, taking the clubs from the worker and passing them to the girls before you all make your way onto the course. The moment you step onto the course, you quickly realize how skilled Mabel is at the sport, easily sinking hole in ones when it takes her friends a few tries.

As for you and Stan, you watch in amusement as Stan stomps around each course with a grimace, using way too much power and usually knocking the ball way out of bounds. Glancing over your shoulder, you see the girls waiting, glancing over at the next course. “Why don’t you girls go on ahead? We’ll meet up with you at the end, I think your Grunkle is going to be a while.” You say, hearing Stan yell ‘Oh come on’ in the distance.

The girls nod eagerly, running off in excitement though you were unaware it was not about mini-golf in the slightest but the opportunity to observe you and Stan from a distance and perhaps nudge the two of you together. “Let’s go straight to hole 20, I have a plan.” Mabel says with a grin, rubbing her hands together.

Once the girls disappear from your sight, you walk back over to Stan who putts the ball to the other end of the course once again narrowly missing the hole after hitting it in frustration a bit too hard. “Son of a gun!” Stan curses which has you shaking your head with a chuckle, “You know the kids are gone. You can curse for real now.” Stan looks around, seeing Mabel and her friends are gone before grinning with glee as he lets out, “Son of a bitch!”

You laugh at his antics, coming up behind him. “You know if you use a little less power, you might make it in the hole. You’ve got a good aim, you just keep narrowly missing it.” You point out. Stan folds his arms, and you almost expect a sense of defensiveness, but Stan takes it as a challenge of sorts. “Oh? Didn’t realize you were a mini-golf pro, care to make a wager then?” He says with a grin, twirling his club in his hand.

“What kind of wager are we thinking, Pines?” You ask, amused at the prospect. “Person who gets the ball in with the least amount of tries wins. Loser has to cook breakfast for the rest of the family tomorrow.” Stan offers, mostly to get out of having to make breakfast for once. Ford has tried to offer but it resulted in the Pines family scrubbing the walls to clean up the pancake batter that was flung all across the kitchen. He sticks out his hand, hoping to seal the deal.

You glance between him and his hand before wrapping your hand around his, shaking it firmly. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

The two of you move from course to course, using the scorecard provided for once to tally up how many tries it takes each of you to sink the ball into the hole. You are quite surprised to see Stan actually take your feedback to heart, adjusting his force and getting a few hole in ones in there.

It’s pretty much neck and neck, the two of you bantering and trying to distract one another during each other’s putts. Amidst her scheming, Mabel peaks her head through the bushes every now and then, watching on in curiosity. The chemistry between you and Stan seems so effortless, his presence pulling a beaming smile and laughter that she had yet to see around her Grunkle Ford. “I can’t believe it… they actually fit really well together.” Mabel says in awe.

“They’re coming this way!” Grenda calls out in a hushed tone, causing Mabel to stick her head back into the bush. She watches carefully as the two of you approach, waiting for the right moment. The golf ball rolls right past the bush, and you make your way to go hit it once more, Stan trailing right behind you. Mabel takes this opportunity to simply stick out her leg, your ankle snagging on it. You begin to fall forward, your hands extending outward to brace yourself for the fall but it never comes.

Instead, you feel Stan’s upper arm wrapped tightly around your waist, his fingertips sinking into the fabric of your shirt to make sure he has a grip on you. “Whoa there, watch where you’re stepping. Could’ve landed flat on your face there!” Stan chuckles, gazing down with an amused grin at what he perceived was your clumsiness. He quickly tugs you up, but the force that he uses causes you two to end up chest to chest.

Time seems to stand still, the two of you staring into each other’s eyes. Being this up close to you, Stan notices features that he hadn’t before. The subtle wrinkles that frame your eyes, most likely from how your eyes crinkle when you smile, how your eyes seem to shine in the sunlight. How soft your lips look… have they always looked that kissable?

Oh.

Oh no.

“Um, Stan…” Your voice cuts through his thoughts as you wonder why he has yet to let go of you.

Stan quickly pulls away, clearing his throat. He turns away from you, trying to hide the flush across his cheeks. “L-Let’s wrap up this hole, I’m sure the kids are waiting for us.” He quickly tries to change the subject, hoping you don’t question why he was holding onto you for so long.

“Sure…” You say with a nod, walking back over to putt the ball in the hole but you end up missing again, cursing under your breath as your mind is stuck on the events that just unraveled.

Stan ends up winning your bet at the end, narrowly by one point, the one point you could have made had it not been for your brain turning to mush at reminder of the feeling of Stan’s strong arm wrapped around your middle, the scent of his woodsy, most likely cheap cologne, and his brown eyes staring back at you.

After finishing up at the golf course, Stan drove you and the girls to a nearby taco joint to grab dinner. The tension from earlier still lingered in the air, but the two of you tried to brush it off as best as you could since the kids were around.

Once you order the food, the girls spy a claw machine in the corner, and after laying the puppy dog eyes on thick, Mabel was able to get some change that Stan was able to scrounge up and made a beeline over to hopefully win a pig plush that looked like Waddles. That left you and Stan alone for the first time since the golf course, the two of you staring anywhere but each other.

“So do you and Ford have any plans of where you’ll go next once Mabel and Dipper leave for the summer?” You decide to break the ice, asking the first question that comes to mind as you toy with the gemstone on your necklace. Stan finally glanced up at you, watching you fiddle with the gemstone. He had picked up on your anxious habit of messing with it after a few of your fights with Ford, pacing around the hallways of the Mystery Shack with it in your fingers.

“Not a clue. Usually we just go wherever the sails take us though Ford is pulled to places where all sorts of weird stuff happens like a magnet.” Stan comments with a shrug. You tilt your head, “Is there anywhere you’d like to visit specifically?” Stan blinks, not really having thought about it. Truthfully, this past year, anywhere was fine with Stan as long as it was with Ford.

“I dunno, I think a lot of places in Europe are too hoity-toity for me. Especially France, ugh.” Stan shudders at the thought, “I’m more of a tropical kinda guy. Beaches and babes, ya know?” Stan lets out a hearty chuckle.

You smile in amusement, “Babes, huh? Any luck finding a lady during your travels?” Stan’s chest deflates almost comically, fiddling with his thumbs, “Well, you see…” The elaborate tale he was about to tell gets stuck in his throat as the food arrives, being dumped in front of the two of you.

“You were saying?” You say, eyebrow quirking as you grab a taco.

Stan puts his hands up in defeat, “Alright, the closest I got was a siren that Ford had to drag me away from before she took my soul.” You let out a laugh of disbelief, taking a bite from your food, “So Stan Pines is not the suave playboy I thought he was?” Stan shakes his head, “Afraid not, sweetheart. Sorry to disappoint.”

The pet name rolls off his tongue and he doesn’t even realize it, but you do. Your cheeks feel warm, and you can’t believe the butterflies that seem to erupt in your stomach. You almost choke on your taco, but swallow it down.

Oh.

Oh no.

“Y/N, look at the plushies we got!” Mabel runs up to the table, her arms full of plushies as Grenda and Candy follow behind her. Just when you hope that Mabel’s presence will save you from the weird, fuzzy feelings you should not be feeling towards your ex’s twin brother, it ends up making it worse.

“Grunkle Stan, could you move over to the other side of the booth so Grenda, Candy and I can sit next to each other? It’ll be easier to share the nachos that way.” Mabel asks. An innocent request, Stan obliges, slipping out of the booth and sliding next to you. The three girls pile into the opposite side of the booth, and Mabel proceeds to show off each stuffed animal along with their name and a brief backstory.

Stan and you are too enthralled by Mabel’s show and tell to notice her high fiving her friends briefly underneath the table for a mission accomplished today.

The sun had finally set by the time you arrived back at the Mystery Shack, a bag of food in your hand to bring to Ford as an olive branch. You descend down the stairs of the basement, but Ford is nowhere to be found. Instead, you find a note next to a plate of cookies.

‘My apologies again for today - I will uphold my promise next time to not justify my actions and only provide additional detail when asked.

I will be spending some time with Fiddleford for the rest of the day.

P.S - The baked goods were not made by me so they are safe to consume.’

You chuckle, shaking your head.

Looks like Ford had the same idea to offer an olive branch.

You write a note, letting Ford know about the food before taking the plate of cookies up the stairs with you, heading straight to the kitchen to put away the food. Stan catches you on the way there, glancing at the bag of food still in your hand, “Where’s Poindexter?”

“He’s visiting Fiddleford, he left an apology note and gave me these cookies.” You explain, placing the food inside the fridge. Stan sucks in air through his teeth, eyeing the cookies, “I wouldn’t eat those sweetheart if you care about your safety.”

There’s that damn pet name again.

“It’s fine, Ford didn’t make them. He made that very clear.” You chuckle, putting down the plate before grabbing a cookie yourself.

“Hey, uh, since the kids are busy, I was wondering if you’d wanna watch a movie with me in the living room. If you don’t have plans to watch more of your memories or nothing for the evening.” Stan asks, scratching his chin.

It was a clear choice between trying to watch another heart-wrenching memory to watching a movie.

Stan decided to show you the Duchess Approves after you had mentioned you had never heard of it. There wasn’t enough room on the arm chair so you sat on the floor next to Stan, and spent the rest of the evening listening to his animated reactions and grinning as he passionately presented his ideas for a sequel.

The two of you turn in for the evening once the movie finishes, but not before you give Stan a sudden hug, thanking him again for helping you take your mind off things for a day. Stan awkwardly pats your back, stiff against your arms while his heart is beating through his chest so hard he’s worried he may have a heart attack right there.

As you lay on the air mattress, staring at the ceiling, you can’t help but hope that things work out for the best.

That Ford will make amends for the pain he caused and show he has changed.

That you can find a way to forgive Ford.

That you both can heal from the past, having at least an amicable relationship.

That you get to keep the people you have met through him in your life.

Your eyes slowly become heavy, finally closing as you slip into a deep sleep.

A sudden knock at the door startles you from your sleep, eyeing the door cautiously.

Not knowing who may be outside the door, you grab a baseball bat that you had kept by your bedside and approach the door.

“Who’s there?” You call out but there is no answer.

Instead, a letter is pushed through the door crack and you can barely make out the sound of footsteps retreating.

Putting down the bat, you grab the envelope, quickly opening it to read its contents.

‘Hey Stan,

I hope you’re hanging in there, I know from your last letter you were on the move again, but hopefully things work out in New Mexico!

Sorry that it took so long to write you back, it’s truthfully been a really tough month. Ford’s pretty much buried in his work, our friend who’s been helping Ford with his research has been pretty anxious nowadays. Hopefully the sooner Ford wraps up his project, everyone will be less on edge.

But I saw your latest commercial on TV the other night, I really hope this new product takes off!

I really hope one day you can make it out to Oregon, and you and Ford can catch up and mend things. I know you aren’t ready to talk to him yet, but I honestly think he could use you. He’s pretty wound up, and nothing I really say or do is helping…

Anyways, I know you really don’t like it, but I sent some money and a few of those scratch cards I know you like. Just a little something to keep you steady until you get back on your feet.

Wishing you the best with your latest business venture!

Sincerely,

Y/N.’

Stan shoots up in bed, a cold sweat coating his body, running his hand through his gray hair.

“Holy shit.”

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