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gerardsbest · 3 days ago

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When You Were Here Before, Couldn't Look You in the Eye

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Chapter 2/3

Relationship: Gerard Way x Reader

Tags: slow burn, happy ending, fluff and angst, feelings realization, eventual smut

Summary: Gerard's liked you for so long, he just wishes you liked him back, too. But he knows you don't and he respects your boundaries, so he tries to move on.

Even after the success of the band, he still thinks about you. Even as he has thousands of screaming, adoring fans, Gerard thinks about you.

Then, there's a show in Jersey. He gets drunk and stumbles to your old house.

Turns out, you still live there.

10.1k words | ao3

2000

"Three... two... one... happy new years!"

Gerard flinched as the room erupted into noise. Party poppers being set off, people whistling and hooting as they spilled drinks on each other in excitement, a slew of drunken makeouts, and deep rambles about "new years resolutions" and whatnot. That made Gerard think about his own plans— what the hell did he want out of the year of our lord, the year two-thousand?

"Happy new years, Gee!"

You came stumbling into his arms, and Gerard more so caught you than hugged you. You were tipsy, he was tipsier.

"Wow, I cannot believe this... a new century— no, shit. A new millennium!" You exclaimed, swaying from side to side.

Okay, maybe you were tipsier.

Gerard put his cup down and adjusted himself so he could support you better. This was the deal the two of you had with one another, that if one person was clearly more drunk than the other would have to cease all further inebriation to make sure that they didn't make a fool out of themselves. Usually, it was you taking care of him, but you seemed to have really taken advantage of the endless alcohol supply at this year's party; which was pretty odd, but Gerard didn't think too hard about it since he was pretty intoxicated, too.

What was supposed to be a small house party had evolved into an easy-access, any-random-Joe-in-the-neighborhood-can-come party as the night progressed. Gerard didn't mind this since it wasn't his house, but he minded it a little now as weaving through the crowd while practically dragging your body was quite difficult.

Still, he made it out with you and took the two of you to an empty lawn. The owner of the house that lawn belonged to was some guy Gerard barely knew, but he was currently running up and down the streets, shirtless, and screaming about politics so he was sure that he wouldn't mind.

Gerard set down his jacket as the grass was a little wet and you flopped right down, hiccuping as you oh-so ungracefully landed on your ass.

The minute he sat down as well, your head fell onto his shoulder, "Y'think aliens and robots are gonna take over by the next millennia?"

Gerard snorted, "Aliens and robots."

"Yeah, fuck, like... robots at first 'cause we're definitely gonna see some kind of sci-fi... futuristic... whatever cyborg within our lifetime. I know it, Gee, I can, like, feel it," You got all up close and personal, even grabbing Gerard's collar to emphasize your point. "Then... hundreds of years later, aliens decide they wanna conquer our ass and that is how humanity gets extinguished."

"Some imagination you got there. Maybe you should be the intern at Cartoon Network."

You laughed real hard, a surefire sign of your drunkenness since the joke really wasn't that funny, "You're the only good artist in this town, 'm afraid."

Your head lolled off to the side, right off his shoulder and onto the ground before Gerard could even react. He looked over and reached out to try and help you up but you fervently shook your head and aggressively patted the spot next to you while slurring that you were insistent he lay down with you.

So, Gerard obliged. The wetness was really prominent now that his whole body was laying in the grass, but he kept quiet about that because you seemed so content.

You were laying flat on your back, hands gathered atop your stomach and staring at the sky with this hazy look to your eyes. The sky was quite clear for New Jersey, but Gerard wasn't looking at the stars nor the moon.

"Gee... uh, I gotta tell you somethin'."

"What is it?"

Gerard tensed. What was this? Anticipation?

"Um, well..."

Your contentment faded, and those calm hands which were once resting on your body began fiddling with each other. You'd gone from flaccid to nervous in just a second.

"Is anything the matter?"

"It's just a matter I've wanted to tell you for awhile, but I couldn't..."

Oh, god, he shouldn't think this way.

"... What is it?" Gerard asked.

He had his hopes.

"Well, like, y'know how I've been lookin' for a job that's more permanent lately?"

Gerard had his hopes.

"Yeah, I do remember you talking about that. Did you find a place?"

"I did. And it's my absolute dream job." You let out this dreamy sigh like you'd fallen in love.

"That's amazing! What is—"

"But this is the thing, right? It's... far, Gee. Like, super far."

Gerard noticed a shine on your cheek, and it wasn't from the wetness of the grass nor its soil. You shed a tear, and that one tear turned to many as you began quietly sniffling to yourself, still fixated on the sky.

Immediately, he sat up, "Woah, woah, are you alright? Look, if you think I'm upset or something, I'm not, I swear! I don't care if it's far, it's not like we'll ever stop being friends. You could move to... Ireland or something and we'd still be the same amount of close as though you were still living here."

Despite his efforts, the tears just kept flowing and you just let them; whether this was due to your drunken state or not, he didn't know. All Gerard knew was that the sight was breaking his heart.

"This should be a joyous occasion, so please, if you want to cry then let them be tears of joy." Gerard whispered, his hand awkwardly hovering above your face, wanting to comfort you but being unsure if he should do so physically.

You reached up and grabbed ahold of his hand, a move which made him flinch, "Los Angeles, Gee. It's L.A."

Ah. The City of Angels. Gerard's shoulders fell a bit, and he allowed his body to hit the lawn once more. You were still holding onto his hand and looking at the sky.

"I looked it up," You said, sounding sober all of a sudden. "From The Big Apple, it's around six hours. From Atlantic City, about eight. And from Trenton... thirteen."

You let go of his hand to wipe the tears from your face before going back to holding it. This time, Gerard held yours right back as he wished that he had the courage to help clean your face.

But you were waiting for an answer, and you relayed this to him as your head finally tilted to the side and met his eyes. Gerard was awestruck, he always thought you were prettiest at night. Your features just suited the aesthetic better— though, you did also look great in sunlight— and that plain expression you wore made him gulp.

Gerard's throat was dry, he wished he had something, anything to help it before responding, "That's not too bad," He said calmly, and that alone soothed you a little. "New York is close to us, I can get there by driving or transit and my internship is there, anyway. But beyond that, it's the digital age now! We can email, call... we can even send letters."

You giggled, "Like we're in the eighties?"

"Like we're in the eighties." Gerard confirmed.

"Sounds nice." You were finally smiling.

"We can write to each other about our day, send photos and stuff..."

"I can decorate it with stickers."

"We can send each other small, thin trinkets and knickknacks."

"Send me your drawings?" You asked, and your voice made it sound like a plea. Like his drawings were this grand thing.

Gerard squeezed your hand, "Of course."

That satisfied you and you were back to being content. You got closer to him, and Gerard shifted closer, too.

2001

Gerard thought a lot about that afternoon at the end of January. How cold it was, how his striped grey scarf gave him warmth, and how you cried before you left.

Everyone you cared about was there. Your family, your friends from high school and university, Gerard— even Mikey was invited. It was an emotion-fest, and everyone was either crying or trying so, so hard not to. You were so loved.

And between the goodbye hugs and kisses, Gerard was last. Not because of your intention, but his. It was incredibly self-serving, but he wanted to be the last one you said goodbye to.

Because, if he was the last person you would ever see before officially turning the chapter of your new life, then maybe he'd stay in your memory enough for you to not forget him.

Since, truthfully? He was scared you'd just forget him.

That he would become an old story, someone you would refer back to casually many years later as "my best friend from high school" before immediately following up that sentence with "but we're not close anymore". That kind of person.

And if the two of you were to meet in this imagined reality, you'd greet him with open arms and big smiles, of course, but it would all be performative. Sure, you might recall the good ol' days like prom night, the comic club, the endless days of listening to different bands, geeking out over comics together, deep conversations about the future and whatnot during the trifling years of university— but what else? None else. Because while you might be able to move on with your life, onto better things, without him; Gerard was sure he couldn't do the same.

While he became "that friend from high school" to you, you'd always be "the best friend I'll ever have" to him.

But that was all just in his head.

A year into this thing, and both the letters and emails as well as the occasional phone calls exchanged between the two of you had been consistently meaningful.

You'd ramble about your job, all the great new people you were meeting, and how you seriously felt like this was the exact path you'd envisioned for yourself. Gerard loved reading and listening to it all, and he especially loved the photos and polaroids you'd send along with your mail. He kept them all in that same box he'd used as when you sent him postcards for the first time.

Your enthusiasm never wavered, neither did your friendship to him. In almost every long-distance exchange between the two of you, you'd always find a way to include him. Like, if you ate some really good food, you'd talk about what items on the menu he'd potentially enjoy. Or, after finding a nice and underground spot for one of the many shared hobbies the two of you had, you'd go on about how much he would love being there.

Gerard did all the same, especially as he was in New York more often. He liked riding the ferry, and he oft took photos since he knew you'd enjoy his ventures, too.

It was one of these days when he was letting his mind wander. In between what he'd do at work today, laced with the proposals he had for potential cartoons as well as new ideas, he thought about you.

What would he write about that day, what would he write about in the future, and what he'd written about in the past.

There wasn't much that was happening that day. Well, the weather forecast did predict a "sunny and pleasant" day, so Gerard had that to look forward to.

That's a nice shot of the Hudson. Gerard thought absentmindedly, cursing to himself in his head for forgetting his camera.

Gerard was admiring the view when he first heard it.

The day the towers fell gave him a new purpose in life.

Gerard got home after the events, after the chaos that was the transit systems as everyone and everything was in a frenzy. Suddenly, that internship he had and the half-baked idea he had for his own animated show didn't seem so important. Since, what did they mean, really? Just another way for faceless people he'd never meet to get richer faster.

So, instead of picking up the pen or paper, he picked up the phone.

"I hope she likes it." Gerard mused, feeling his palms grow sweaty despite it being winter.

Ray looked to him, then at the small parcel in his hands, "I'm sure she will. I mean, I'm not trying to toot my own horn 'cause I worked on it, but," He put his hand on Gerard's shoulder firmly. "If this girl's anything like how you've been describing her, then it'll be a success. Probably."

Gerard smiled at that and finally got the courage to slot his small package into the mailbox after mulling it over for about ten minutes— seriously, Ray was one hell of a saint for sticking around that entire time.

The two of them began walking soon after, Gerard with his hands deep in his pockets and Ray sipping away at his hot coffee.

"So," Ray began. "Do you like this girl?"

Gerard short-circuited for a moment, "What makes you ask?"

"The way you're always on and on about her. I've never met her but I feel like I've known her for ages the way you talk so intensively... I mean, I know her favorite color, where she likes to eat, what hairstyles she enjoys the most, what clothing materials she likes and dislikes because she's 'super particular'."

Gerard blushed, and he desperately hoped that his rosy cheeks could bypass as a sign of the cold.

"She's just my best friend."

"Uh huh."

"What? She is."

"Hey, I didn't say anything."

Gerard narrowed his eyes as Ray laughed a cheeky little laugh while deliberately looking off to the side. Despite that, no further questions were asked and Gerard found himself alone with his psyche. Ray's words of encouragement were incredibly helpful, but he still couldn't help but be nervous.

What he'd sent you was a rough draft at best, a demo in every sense of the word. Gerard had many problems with it, like the fact that his voice was far too loud and you could barely hear the instrumentals in the background. Also, he didn't quite enjoy how he sounded - too loud, too choppy, his voice was even lightly cracking at some parts. Gerard felt like he'd cringe at this memory if he ever looked back on it, but you wanted to hear it and was quite adamant, even going so far as to call him over the phone about it so what choice did he have?

And thus, like a man obsessed, Gerard checked the mailbox everyday.

Whenever he had a moment to spare, he'd be thinking about if you received it yet and what your response was. Were you writing a response as he thought this? Maybe you'd just gotten it and was currently listening. He included a lyric sheet, so he wondered what you thought about that, too, since you always had such meaningful things to say about writing.

Gerard was so curious it nearly drove him mad.

And funnily enough, when he did finally get that letter he'd been thinking about for about a week and a half, he didn't even have to check the box. His mother had placed it right on his desk, like she knew how crazy it was making him (she did).

Gerard tore through the envelope like an animal digging into a carcass to get to the meat, the letter, as fast as possible.

You wrote,

Hey, Gee.

First of all, how are you and how have you been? Sorry this letter took longer than usual. I just wanted my response to be perfect, y'know? Since this means a lot to me.

Anyway, I thought the song was amazing. And the fact that this is just the demo makes me so excited for the real deal! You'll send it to me then, right? Actually, scratch that, let me come to a show! After you guys really get going, tell me like a few weeks in advance if you decide to go live so I can see. If you don't, then I'll just assume you're not really my friend (jk).

But I thought the whole thing was greatly made. I've never heard anything like it before and I don't mean that lightly.

"Skylines and Turnstiles", is it? What a pretty name. Look at you, Gee, an artist and a poet. I'm jealous. But speaking of poetry... these lyrics.

I so appreciate you including a lyric sheet. I can't express how much I've been re reading this, analyzing every detail like it's one of those light novels I had to annotate back in uni. It's just so brilliant!

"And after seeing what we saw, can we still reclaim our innocence?"/"And if the world needs something better, let's give them one more reason, now".

Those are my favorite lyrics.

Your reasoning for wanting to start all this is beautiful, and I know you'll succeed. To want to make a difference in someone's life and, after witnessing something so tragic, wanting to give people a reason to fight and live on? You're an inspiration.

Keep creating, keep writing. You inspire me.

The letter was signed with your name.

Gerard re-read that last line over and over again— "Keep creating, keep writing. You inspire me."

2002

"Oh, gosh, Gee! How long has it been? Your hair, these clothes... are these your bandmates— Mikey's here, too—? Sorry, I'm rambling. How have things been? How have you been?"

You were all over the place, bouncing off the walls and going from hugging him to looking around to patting him down and even ruffling his hair. Gerard let it happen because he thought it was all quite funny - you were acting like an older relative at a family gathering and it was immensely amusing.

On top of that amusement, however, was this inexplicable feeling of relief. It was two-thousand-two. A grand two years since your departure and about nine months since your last visit during Thanksgiving. This was also the longest time you'd stay since your workplace had oh-so graciously allowed a three week vacation.

(Courtesy of your great work ethic, of course.)

Gerard held you tight, wanting his hands and fingers to soak in your skin and bones.

You pulled apart and wiped a small tear from your eyes, "Ah, geez, sorry for all of this..." You smiled and looked past his shoulders. "I haven't introduced myself. I'm Gee's friend from high school."

"Don't worry, you need absolutely no introduction." Frank said, wiggling his brow as he said your name, which you looked shocked that he even knew.

"What do you mean...?"

Gerard cut right in, "This is Ray, the lead guitar. Frank, the rhythm guitar. Matt, the drums. And Mikey's on bass." He said quickly, pointing to each man as he shot Frank a "don't you dare" kind of look.

Frank conceded and reached out to shake your hand as though this was some kind of business proposal. Ray offered to take your bag, which you obliged in since you looked absolutely exhausted. Mikey caught you up on things in his life— and Gerard? He watched your back as it went down the driveway and into his house, at your smile as you talked to his brother and got to know the rest of his friends. It was your first time meeting them yet you talked to them so well.

All he could do was hope that they didn't say anything embarrassing.

"Gerard? You gonna come in or should we lock you out?" Frank jeered.

"Don't you dare." Gerard grumbled as he jogged in.

You were by the wall where his family kept all the best photos. Eyes wandering from childhood photos to embarrassing middle school portraits and everything in between. Gerard joined you, and although you didn't acknowledge him at first, he knew you knew from the way your body twitched slightly towards him.

While you looked at the pictures, he looked at you.

You took time to soak in every memory, but seemed to fixate on one in particular. When Gerard turned away to see what it was, he just said, "Oh."

"Oh, indeed," You said as you reached up and carefully took it off the wall. "Senior prom."

Gerard looked at it from over your shoulder. You were holding it with both hands, with the same amount of gentleness one would use for a baby. The picture itself had been taken by your mother, he remembered that. He also remembered how pretty your yellow dress was, as well as the kiss you'd given him.

It was on the cheek and entirely meant as a friendly gesture, but it was special nonetheless.

"I can't wait for your show tomorrow," You whispered, nearly making him jump. "My first one. I'm excited." You added as you put the picture back in its place.

"Oh, is it?"

Looking at that photo reminded him of high school. For a moment, he thought you were remembering wrong since he'd been to so many as a teenager, but then he realized those shows he went to was with his first girlfriend. Not you. He'd only thought about bringing you to one, but those plans never came into fruition.

"You'd better impress me, Mr. Way."

Gerard wasn't sure if he could.

The "venue", if one could even call this dingy little nook beneath a bar that was booked by Frank's cousin and fit about a high school classroom's worth of people. That didn't matter, though, since anything was better than nothing at this point and even having this was a privilege— being signed was a privilege.

Whatever the case was, though, Gerard didn't let that get to him when he performed. To him, the venue and its people were just a haze, anyway. The alcohol in his system made it so.

This way, things were easier and the fact that you were standing right there to watch him perform didn't get at him so much. Gerard only permitted himself to take small glances towards you, but each time he did, he was amazed by your adoration.

The music was booming, it was screaming, he was screaming. Gerard felt his throat go raw and hoarse so many times and he knew he wouldn't sound as polished as he did on the record (though, even on those, he didn't sound too professional) but you didn't seem to care about that. You were singing along to the lyrics when you could remember them, and he didn't blame you for having everything memorized since his own songs tend to be endless at times.

But you seemed to know every word to one in particular - Skylines and Turnstiles.

The first one you ever listened to. And their first song.

You looked so happy. You looked so fulfilled even though this wasn't your band and definitely not your project. You were just here to support him and god, did you do that so well. Gerard wished he had the courage, the guts to say this to you and how much he appreciated this.

When it was over, it felt like a wave had crashed over him. Gerard murmured some thanks into the mic then stumbled right off the stage where you were waiting for him as the crowd dissipated - their fanbase was small, definitely small enough to not warrant people running up to him after.

"Gee, that was amazing." You gushed the moment he was within range.

"You really think so?" He asked as he scratched the back of his neck.

"Definitely! Gosh, you have got to get me a CD of this record. I tried to look for it in stores, but no such luck."

"Yeah, copies of Bullets are pretty scarce right now 'cause, well... we're not that famous."

"You deserve to be, though. I wholeheartedly believe so."

The whole time, he'd been looking down at his feet or glancing around, I feel like I'll puke if I look at her directly or something. Wait, that sounds bad. It's not 'cause she's repulsing or anything— why am I even justifying this? Who am I justifying to right now? This is all in my head! Gerard gulped and murmured something. "Why... do you think that?" He managed.

"Well, 'cause you guys are great." You said, and it was so simple that it almost made him laugh.

Gerard swallowed thickly and looked through the greasy curtain of his bangs to make sure your face was obscured.

"To be honest, so much of music nowadays feels kind of... pointless, y'know? I don't want to sound pretentious but I feel like it's been a while since music really meant something. And this... all of this. From Skylines to... what was it? Headfirst for Halos? The lyrics were kind of hard to make out but I got the gist of it. You guys could make a difference in this world with songs like that."

It was weird. Your compliment made him feel so giddy, gave him those butterflies in his stomach that he'd been feeling ever since you came back. Yet, all Gerard could do right now was hold himself back from hurling.

"I... I don't know if this will mean much coming from me, but I want you to know that I admire you so much for doing this."

His insides did a flip.

"Gerard? Are you alright?"

No, he wasn't.

"Are you able to look at me?"

No, he couldn't.

Still, he did so anyway because the delicate way you asked him, requesting so sweetly if he could bear to look at your face. Of course he would fall to pieces at that.

Gerard looked at you directly for what seemed like the first time in forever; which was inherently dumb and untrue because he literally saw you at the airport and at his house yesterday. But all of that seemed ancient now.

For the first time, he could see the ways in which you'd changed since you were away.

You'd grown. Easy as that. The "you" he'd known on that day during New Years, the one drunk and stumbling all over the place while drooling and crying seemed so far away. Gerard couldn't imagine you doing all that in the state you were in now. That wasn't to say you had suddenly become all uptight or anything, the fact that you were in such a grimy show venue told him that you hadn't become a completely different person.

There was just more maturity to you.

And that scared him.

Suddenly, all of his fears were coming back to him. That horrible, conjured reality where he'd become a fond memory while he was still obsessed with you.

Did he need to change? If so, to what? Would you like his change or would you despise it?

Gerard slumped, feeling his knees give way as he allowed his body to just crash onto the floor. Fully conscious, but feeling like he was somewhere else.

Actually, maybe he wasn't "fully" conscious. Or even conscious at all anymore. Gerard just heard the echoes of your voice as he blacked out.

A deep cringe twinged through Gerard's body as he (unfortunately) woke up. The light was absolutely glaring, the sound of footsteps from people above pounding, and his breath stinking inside his mouth. But none of those mild discomforts compared to the flood of memories assaulting him at that moment.

At that moment, your first ever show, your first ever time seeing his band— when he should have wowed you— he was an absolute bumbling idiot.

"God..." Gerard rubbed his face, or more so smothered his cheek with his palm while wondering where you were now.

That thought didn't last long, however, as someone just came into his room. It was you. Apparently, you didn't expect him to be up so you were just wandering around with a cup in your hands. Gerard watched you for a bit, he probably should have said something but nothing wanted to come out.

So, he creepily watched you until you finally noticed and nearly fell backwards.

"Gee!" You exclaimed, holding a hand over your heart. "You're up?"

"I am," He sighed. "What is that?"

You collected yourself and went to sit next to him, "Hangover cure." You smiled as you shoved the steaming mug towards him.

Hesitantly, Gerard took it. It felt nice and toasty against his hands, and it smelled lovely, too— citrus and... honey, perhaps?

"It's some fruit tea I got from this locally owned shop in L.A. I think you'd like it, the place has a real mom and pop's kinda feel. Anyway, it's absolute heaven when it comes to pesky hangovers. I added the honey for your voice since you went kind of crazy last night." You explained, doing all sorts of wacky gestures with your hands.

Gerard looked down at the swirling concoction in his hands. The mug was Star Wars themed, and the liquid itself was a nice caramel brown.

"To be loved is to be seen".

You took the time to pack this tea, and went out of your way to care for his voice. Gradually, he realized something. That, maybe, his insecurities were just that. Insecurities. Unfounded and entirely formed from the darkest corners of his mind.

Gerard put the mug down for a moment on the floor, you raised your brow in confusion as he leaned in and hugged you.

"Thanks."

You patted him on the back, "Of course. Don't worry about it, yeah?"

There may have been differences in your clothes, or your mannerisms, or maybe even the way you carried yourself, but you yourself remained all the same and unmoving. Even your smell was all the same.

Gerard pulled apart and picked up the drink, taking a sip and relishing as his nostrils filled with the decadent, fruity scent and his lungs were graced by both slight favor and extreme warmth. The thing was a few degrees short of scalding, but he liked it this way.

"Listen, Gee, I need to tell you something."

Placing the mug in between his legs, Gerard gestured for you to continue. He couldn't help but notice a slight furrow in your brows, the universal indicative of there being something wrong.

"See... I got a major promotion at my job."

Huh.

Gerard chuckled, then that chuckle turned into a laugh, which evolved into a fit of cackles.

You looked at him, a little concerned but trying to crack a smile, "What the hell are you... did the alcohol fry your last braincell or something? What's with the Joker-like laughing?"

"No, it's just... what is it with you and delivering good news— great news in the worst way possible? You sound so somber that I thought you were going to say something horrible," He was giggling so hard the tea was sloshing around, on the brink of just spilling onto his pyjama pants. "You haven't changed since New Years, two years ago in this sense."

Your concern faded and you just looked annoyed now, "Haha. Very mature. But this is serious, Gee."

Maybe he'd overstepped a little. Gerard nodded and stopped goofing off to listen to you properly. The sloshing of his tea stopped, too.

"Since I got a pretty big promotion, it means I'm gonna get a lot busier. Which means, I can't do trips back too often," Your shoulders slumped way down, like two rocks had suddenly appeared on either end. "That's why I made this trip pretty long. I have no idea when I'll be able to come back."

Those butterflies were back. Well, maybe this was more like a sinking feeling.

"That is serious."

"Mhm."

"You don't have an estimate?"

"No idea... it could be months, it could be years."

Years.

Gerard's mind was a maze. An over complicated, stupid maze that he couldn't seem to crawl out of. The drink in his hands had gone lukewarm now.

Then, you put your head on his shoulder and let out a sigh which sounded like you'd been holding for a while, "Maybe... when you go on tour and things... you can come to L.A. We're pretty cool over there."

" 'When' we go on tour?"

"You guys are already going to New York and things. Plus, you seem to have a good thing going here. Even if it isn't exact, as long as it's a state near me, perhaps...? Just grasping at straws here, Gee. Sue me."

"You have so much faith in me."

"Of course I do. You're my best friend."

Gerard leaned into your touch, rubbing friction between your hair and his considerably messier hair.

"I hope you know that fact won't change even with this," Gerard whispered, you murmured something but he didn't quite catch it. "It's not like the postal industry is gonna collapse and the internet is just growing more and more advanced each day."

"That's kind of scary. Makes you think about how things will progress twenty years from now."

Gerard snorted, "Are we gonna live long enough to see cyborgs walk among us?"

"God, I hope so."

Nothing more was said after that and nothing more had to be said. In the basement that was Gerard's room, a place that was slightly dank and most definitely quite cramped, there was a certain bit of warmth to be found; and it wasn't from the tea nestled between his legs, it was found with you. As your best friend, and him as yours, Gerard was satisfied with that.

2003

"The wonders of modern technology..." Gerard mumbled to himself.

"Talking to her again?" Mikey asked, trying to crane his neck to get a peak at the conversation, but Gerard quickly put his hand over the screen to prevent that.

"I am," He sputtered as Mikey rolled his eyes deeply. "She was just telling me about her day and such and I was gonna tell her about how close we are to completing the album."

"You guys talk a lot."

Gerard smiled, "We do, huh?"

A beat passed, Gerard's attention was back on his screen as he reread your message again, he had a habit of doing that. You were quite expressive, even with just words. The long distance communication had been narrowed down to only digital means as being out on the road more often meant being unable to receive mail and unfortunately, teleportation technology hadn't been invented yet.

But he was fine with the litany of emails, texts, and occasional phone calls— he loved the phone calls. Being able to hear your voice was worth the small fee, it always was.

"Hey, Gerard?" Mikey cleared his throat, placing a hand atop his arm.

Gerard figured that this meant he wanted his attention, so he put the laptop away, "What's up?"

Mikey looked like he was struggling to say something. The boy had always been awkward, that was one of the many traits which Gerard found adorable in his brother - yes, he was a grown adult now, but older sibling habits die hard.

"Listen, I've been kind of meaning to ask you this for a while— a long while— but... do you, whether right now or in the past, have or had feelings for—"

"—Mikey, I know what you're going to ask." Gerard blurted before he could complete that sentence, before he could say your name because he knew it was coming.

Nodding, Mikey closed his mouth, even pressing his lips together into a tight line.

"So, what's your answer...?"

"We're best friends."

"I know that, everyone knows that, I just mean... you guys have been 'best friends' for so long and I've never seen anyone light up this bad when they talk to someone before. Which is why I was and why I've been curious about this for a while."

The answer Gerard wanted to give him was right there. It was the same answer he'd always given whenever anyone asked him about this topic, the forever rehearsed— "No, we're just friends, I only see her as that".

There had been no problem with saying it before; but for some reason, at that moment, when he was alone in the parking lot with his younger brother on a semi-warm and extremely foggy April morning, he couldn't bring himself to say it. It was like his tongue was suddenly inflamed and so swollen that the words were just stuck in the back of his throat.

Gerard had always been a terrible liar.

Mikey opened his mouth, perhaps to try and sway him into a proper response, but Frank and Ray returned with the promised coffees and that was more than enough of an excuse for Gerard to leave the situation, so he did.

"Jesus, these things are piping!" Gerard exclaimed as he grabbed one from Ray, hissing sharply when the thin paper offered no protection from the scalding drink when it burned his fingertips.

"Well, you specified you wanted the coffees to be 'hot enough to give your lungs third-degree burns', so." Frank shrugged.

By that point, Mikey had come to join the little group huddled outside of the local cafe. There was a mutual agreement between him and Gerard, the agreement that whatever conversation they were having before would be tabled.

Gerard had always been a terrible liar.

2004, July

Gerard was sitting in the van, laptop resting atop his knees as he skimmed over the conversations between you and him. It saddened him a little that they were becoming a little scarcer as the days went on.

The reason? Mutual busyness. You were making strides, taking the promotion by its horns and steering it as you saw fit. Many of your emails consisted of either praising how great everything was or complaints about your coworkers and whatnot— both of which Gerard found great amusement in while reading. Gerard was making strides, too, he supposed. Releasing the second album was the biggest thing, of course, and he was honestly the tiniest bit overwhelmed by the sudden influx of fame it brought him.

At least this album was much more plentiful and you'd even been able to get your hands on a CD! You'd even gone out of your way to take a picture via a digital camera of yourself while holding it with the biggest smile plastered across your face and sent that to him.

Gerard almost printed it out to keep around with him, but decided that was way too creepy. The effort was greatly appreciated, though, he remembered how long he'd stared at it when he laid eyes on the photo for the first time.

For a while, that was the only thing he had of what you looked like, so, naturally, he treasured it. Gerard thought about sending something of himself, too, but you'd noted that you'd seen him in a few dozen magazines and even bought a few of them so he thought those would suffice. Plus, he was a little shy. Even the thought of you owning physical media with his face on them made him blush.

This was all filler now, though. Since, in a few hours, he'd be able to see you again. Gerard didn't want to admit how scared he was of that fact. Two years. Two years since he'd seen you and also since you'd seen them.

The reunion would be in Sunny, Southern California.

It was a stop in the Warped Tour, they'd be performing at some university.

The band had evolved so much since back then. For one, the whole new album. For two, they were in the lineup for an actual festival now. They were so much more polished, had a clearer sound, and Gerard was so proud of everything he'd done.

He just hoped you'd be proud, too.

"Gerard? We're on in a few. Get ready." Someone called out to him from outside.

"Coming!" Gerard yelled back, snapping the laptop closed before taking a moment to breathe.

Warped Tour tend to get crazy— a crowd of mostly sweaty, shirtless dudes all moshing about could never spell good, but Gerard liked this aspect. He just wondered how you'd feel about it.

Gerard tried to look for you as he performed. There was no avail, however, since whenever he looked on, it was just a sea of different flesh that seemed to all just blend in with each other. Maybe most of this haze was from the heat. Some of it was definitely from the alcohol. A lot of it was from the energy he was exuding while onstage.

It was more ardent normal, and even his "normal" was a lot. Gerard was running up and down the stage, banging his head, feeling the guitar and bass and drums coincide with the words he was both belting and screeching. Giving you a performance even though he couldn't even see you - were you even there?

That terrified him.

Whether you were there or not, an enormous amount of pressure would be on his shoulders.

There was a part of him that wanted the performance to continue, and this weird panicky feeling in his gut intensified when he realized that their set was finishing. Gerard still couldn't find you, not even as he was standing still and swallowing down the hazy feeling his intoxication was giving him.

"Gerard, are you alright?" Frank asked him when they got off the stage.

"I, um..." Gerard swallowed thickly, moving the mop that was his sweaty hair from his face. "I don't know."

Frank said something after that, Gerard didn't mean to ignore him the way he did but ended up brushing past the guitarist's shoulder and began wandering.

Some fans stopped him on the way, and Gerard couldn't bring himself to tell them "no", not when they looked so damn eager to meet him. This whole "fame" thing was still new to him, but Gerard would never classify himself as a celebrity— never a celebrity. He just considered himself to be someone of mild success, mild infamy, just enough to warrant his pictures and signage to be mildly important.

But the heat was sweltering, and his throat was growing uncomfortably dry. Gerard wished people would stop crowding him and let him walk. Let him search.

Then, someone tapped him on the shoulder and Gerard almost didn't turn, almost risked his fragile reputation already being ruined as was labelled as some asshole who couldn't even stop for one second for his fans. That thought spooked him into turning around for them.

Except, this wasn't a fan. It was someone entirely familiar.

"Hey, I thought you would just walk right past me or something."

Gerard noted your smile, That hasn't changed one bit. He thought. This outfit was new, though. You usually had a certain color palette to your clothes, but this one broke that pattern. It was almost jarring.

"Don't tell me you're getting a heat stroke already—"

Gerard just hugged you. It was far too humid, far too sticky to be comfortable and he knew he smelled like death, but he did so anyway. And surprisingly, you reciprocated this act as you chuckled while whispering, "You, sir, need a shower."

I do. Gerard agreed as he rested his head against your shoulder.

You gently tapped his back, "We're kind of in the middle of a congested pathway. Let's go somewhere private, yeah?"

Only your physicality had changed. On the inside, you were the same as ever, maybe he was stupid for being scared.

Gerard nodded wordlessly and allowed himself to be dragged away by you— had you been to previous Warped Tour shows? You seemed to know the area quite well.

"One of my friends is an organizer for this event. He let me take a look at it before they opened officially, so I know all the good spots." You said, like you'd read his mind.

You took him way far back, past all the merch vendors and tents to this little spot surrounded by a bunch of rocks. The air smelled strongly of the ocean, but that was just a trait of most of Cali. Gerard dropped right down onto his ass and you did the same but much more gracefully.

"Are you drunk?" You asked.

"As hell." Gerard answered.

You cracked a smile, "I enjoyed your show a lot. This album has so many good songs on it like, ooh, I love The Ghost of You and what was that one called... The Jetset Life is Gonna Kill You? You guys really went ham on the long title thing, huh? Regardless, it all sounds good— so much 'cleaner', I guess. Still, I like your first album better, but maybe that's 'cause I got to listen to a track before it came out."

Gerard nodded to everything you were saying, not wanting to interrupt you, not for a second. Hearing your voice over the phone was one thing, reading your words every night was another, but physically being here, where he was able to see your face as you went on your spiels was pure magic. Always had been.

"Anyway, I wanted to go up way closer, but the flood of screaming, half-naked guys prevented me."

"I tried to look for you in the crowd." He admitted.

"I had a feeling you would, so I did my best to jump around as I waved my arms like crazy, but I guess I was too far back," You sighed. "Or maybe it was doomed to begin with since, well, this is a music festival so everyone would be doing that."

That was when Gerard realized how weird this all was. For a reunion after two whole years, he'd expected there to be so much more crying. But the two of you were just with one another, sitting in this shade, away from all the noise and chaos as you talked in a manner so casual one might assume this was just another afternoon.

It was like the topic of being apart was deliberately being avoided.

Gerard could live with that.

Since, maybe he was a little scared, after all.

Maybe he didn't want to know about all the ways you'd moved on. Maybe he didn't want to know about all the new friends you'd made. Maybe he didn't want to know about how "mutual busyness" was probably not the only reason why the emails had become scarce and the letters nonexistent. Maybe he didn't want to know about your love life, if you had one; and considering how charming you were and how you only grew prettier with each season, you probably did.

"Hey, Gee," You said to him, that nickname almost echoing. "Listen, I have this... work party tonight— it's a corporate thing, lame, I know— but I was wondering if you'd want to come as my plus-one?"

You put your hand atop his, "I think you'd love my coworkers. Especially one, this guy named Jonah. He's a real comic nut, likes all the ones you do."

Gerard tried to study the way you said the name, "Jonah". Did you smile? You did. What was the tone of your voice? Fondness. You knew he liked comics, that meant you talked to him enough to both know that little tidbit and knew his personality to determine that Gerard would get along with him.

"Or, you know, we could just do something with just the two of us—"

"—I'll come." Gerard stated.

Your eyes flickered to him, "You want to?"

No. "Yeah."

"Great! Then, um, I would pick you up but my car's in the shop right now, so..." You began shovelling through your bag to pull out both a little notepad and a pen. "... Here's the address and time. The dress code is business casual, but that's not reinforced. Ah, geez, I can't wait to show you around my workplace and, oh! You can see my office! I decorated it real personally from top to bottom, you see. I'm quite proud of it."

Every word was punctuated with a point of excitement, this sort of brimming exhilaration that was almost contagious. Almost. Gerard wanted to be as thrilled as you were, and by God was it a treat to see you this happy over something, but this nagging feeling wouldn't leave him alone.

The nagging feeling of change.

You'd changed.

Gerard showed up to the intended address at the intended time.

But he didn't go in— or more like he couldn't bring himself to go in.

Instead, like he was some jilted ex or a run-of-the-mill stalker, Gerard lingered around the sidewalk on the other side of your workplace. He didn't do anything, he couldn't even see you but he stayed.

In all honesty, he had no idea why. There were about a million better things he could have done, or he could have just showed up like he'd promised you but he didn't. Gerard didn't move, not even when he both felt and heard the sound of texts being sent to his phone; they were from you, they had to be from you but he didn't check them.

Gerard played out different scenarios in his head, like what you were wearing and how you were feeling. Gerard was the bad guy here, and his gut kept twisting as each minute passed, and as those minutes slowly turned to an hour, then two hours, and eventually three. Maybe he was crazy. The texts stopped after the third hour mark, after all, yet his feet were still firmly planted on the grimy pavement.

Maybe the reason why he didn't check the messages was because he knew he was being horrible here.

No, that was the reason. Gerard was upsetting you and he wanted to puke because of it.

Eventually, Gerard began to drift. His feet moved even though his mind was still lingering on this place, this tall building which looked taller than life itself. The lights were on to their brightest setting despite it being pitch black outside. Small figures were moving in the windows, several floors above. It all seemed so untouchable.

Had you become untouchable? Should he just save himself?

Who was he kidding. This was him saving himself.

The place where the tour bus was parked wasn't far from your workplace— only a thirty minute walk, actually. Though, those thirty minutes turned to about forty-five because Gerard kept bumping into the pole of every streetlight he saw. By the time he got to the base of the metal door, he had a forming bruise on his forehead.

Gerard put his hand on the door handle but didn't open it, he just lingered like how he'd been lingering the past three hours.

He should check your messages.

Chewing his lip, Gerard pulled out his phone and the light emanating from it nearly blinded him. He wished it would just blind him, or maybe the bus itself could topple over and crush him flat. That's what he deserved, probably.

You'd sent him a total of seven messages.

"Hey, Gee! Running a little late, I see... fashionably late? Well, whatever it is, come quick, alright? We have pizza : )"

"The pizza's getting cold..."

"Pizza's gone - my coworkers are pretty gluttonous, lol - but we still have some snacks, if you're hungry. Hey, I'm good with you running late since this is casual but gimme a little head's up!"

"Gee, you alright? Did something come up?"

"Hey, call me or text me back, I'm starting to get a lil worried."

"The party's about over soon, but we're probably gonna linger around a bit more. It's not too late to come."

Gerard didn't want to open the last message. It looked long. Even the six he'd read so far tied his stomach in knots and he could physically see the way your enthusiasm died a little with each one.

His finger hovered for a moment before opening it.

"Listen, idk if you'll even get this and idk what happened tonight but whatever it was, you could have just told me beforehand. Did I impose this party on you? If so, I'm sorry if I did, I just wanted you to see what I was doing for these past few years and also meet the people who have made the time spent apart from you a little better. I'm not mad or anything, just a little bummed out. I still wanna hear back from you, though. You know you can always come to me with anything, right?"

Gerard let the door handle go and drifted away to a nearby curb instead. A damp warmth was on his cheeks— tears. Of course he was crying, of course he was.

What business did he have to cry? This situation was entirely avoidable, this night could have gone a lot differently. It could have gone the way it was supposed to, with Gerard showing up at the party, meeting everyone, going around as you gave him a thorough tour while you rambled about your passions. Gerard loved your passions, he loved reading them every night and listening to them everyday.

Or, the two of you could have just had a hangout, just as a pair like you'd suggested. You could have shown him your favorite spots, get something nice to eat, and maybe even have a tour of your apartment, which Gerard always wanted to see since he was sure that the photos and descriptions you provided over the years could not do it justice. He knew that.

Any best friend should have been able to do this no problem.

So, why did he struggle with it?

He shouldn't be this scared that you'd changed, he'd changed, too so this was all so hypocritical.

Maybe, because he didn't feel like your best friend.

Or more like, he didn't want to be. And that was selfish. Gerard thought he could be satisfied with just being your best friend, but he wasn't. God, he just wasn't.

2004, October

"Hey, I remember you mentioning that your coworker's wedding was gonna be next week in NY, right? We're having a show on the 26th if you wanna meet up after that."

The whole thing was the result of pure fortuity. Your coworker's wedding coincided with the band's performance, both in New York City, both in around the same area. You wouldn't be able to attend the actual show with preparing for the ceremony already in your schedule, which bummed Gerard a bit since this one would have been just them and not a part of a grander festival and it would probably be much cleaner, too, but what could he do about it?

Though, his mind did keep wondering, fantasizing about you being there throughout the whole show.

He even tried to put your face onto one of the audience members. One girl, she had your exact hair and an outfit that you'd probably wear, so Gerard unintentionally fixated on her for nearly the entire show. But he couldn't look at her for too long without realizing it really wasn't you but a random person since, when it really came down to it, the two of you looked nothing alike.

Then, they played their last song, interacted with the crowd for a bit, lingered to hang out with the fans that'd sought them out after before officially departing and suddenly, all Gerard could do was focus on what he would do, what he would say— it had been three months since that incident in July, after all. The issue was "resolved" with a series of emails since he decided that was a much more professional setting for an apology.

Though, it wasn't like that apology meant anything when it was a lie.

Gerard made up this whole story about how Mikey had gotten very ill very fast because of some kind of virus— he was being vague on purpose— and how this made him so busy he couldn't check his phone.

You understood, you even sent your condolences.

His apology resulted in an apology from you, too.

This could be a chance to make that all right, Gerard owed it to you, and he needed to have some accountability for himself, too.

Now, all he had to do was determine how much of the truth he would reveal. The whole thing? Gerard didn't know if he could do that. If he could ever do that. This was twelve years of friendship on the line, and for what? A stupid crush?

Perhaps, revealing the whole truth would be selfish on his part.

Even if you said yes, what after that? Gerard had never been in a long-term relationship before, and he knew above anything else that was what you deserved. A few, extremely sporadic dates summed up your love life throughout university, and you'd been too busy to go on what you described as "silly little dates" throughout your professional career.

But he knew you wanted much more than that, even if you didn't talk about it too much.

Could he provide that to you? He loved you, and that part was endless, but loving someone doesn't mean you're good to them. And he hadn't been good to you.

With that in mind, Gerard pulled his jacket over himself and zipped it to his chin, stalling for a moment as he lay still in the lobby of the theater. The time was half past midnight, the wedding you were at was probably wrapping up now - you took time to mention that it would go on for a while since this coworker was "the life of the party" and no exceptions would be made this day just because she was getting married.

Eventually, though, Gerard just slapped his hands against his cheeks and headed out before his nerves could stop him again.

October weather tend to be harsh, but not piercing. Gerard knew what to expect since New York was basically Jersey's cousin and he'd been here more times than he could count. You as well. That got him wondering what you wore to this event, anyway. Something formal, obviously. A dress, most likely.

The length would probably be a little past your knees or maybe a little above— Gerard bet on the latter being more likely— just nothing beyond or before that since you didn't like clothes dragging on the floor and you were quite particular about what you wore to where depending on the context. As for color, that could really be anything, just not white for obvious reasons— maybe a nice burgundy or forest green since it was fall.

By the time he was done wondering this, he was already at the venue.

People were filing out, all dressed to the nines in various colors, cuts, and styles. It looked to be mostly vintage stuff, Gerard wondered if that could have been the dress code for the whole event.

Gerard tried looking for you in the crowd, the second time this would happen for the night which was a little amusing. Maybe he wasn't trying as hard as he should be, though, because he was still pretty off to the side and just searching with his eyes. He could just shout your name or go join the crowd to search directly, but he couldn't.

There it was again. He couldn't, so he didn't.

Oh, god. Gerard gasped, curling over as his hands clasped his mouth.

The fact that he was bound to see you again, in just a minute or a few seconds suddenly became too real. He didn't even know what he was going to say, he didn't prepare a script in his head or anything since he was too damn busy thinking about frivolous things like what you could be wearing and the weather as if any of that mattered.

That's why he couldn't bring himself to seek you out properly. Gerard turned on his heel and began to flee the other way with his eyes glued to the ground and body swinging from side to side. Most of the wedding guests had begun to move past him, blending with the civilians.

Gerard wanted more than anything to just fall into this crowd and never return, or perhaps fall into a black hole which would only suck him in. Whatever it was, he wanted to disappear.

Someone bumped into him, "Sorry." He whispered, but speaking made him gag.

Another got caught against his shoulder like a shirt hooking onto a doorknob. They cursed him out, Gerard just took it because he was swaying way too much and felt way too nauseous to care.

Swallowing his saliva down, Gerard looked up for the first time and saw you.

You were standing there, all intentionally, holding your purse in front of you with both hands. Gerard got the answer to his query at that moment - you were wearing a yellow dress, just past your knees as he'd predicted. Seeing you in one again was odd because the last time you wore anything of the sort was nine years ago, on your mother's lawn, during prom night.

But the dresses were not the same. The one you were wearing now was a pretty pastel, its design classically vintage with off-white lace on the collar, sleeves, and hem; whereas, on that night, it was all sparkle and shimmer with a handful of juvenile materials like tulle, silk, satin, and bits of chiffon.

And on that night, giddy excitement was a constant hum in the near-summer air, Gerard felt like he was at the top of the world and you were smiling at him like he was the greatest thing you'd laid your eyes on. But in front of him, even though the sky was dark and the stars were illuminating like then, your expression was flat and your hands were clenching the straps of your purse tightly.

"Were you going to leave again?" You asked.

Somehow, despite the stream of people constantly passing by, it felt like it was only the two of you on this street tonight.

You took a step forward, "Answer me."

And under your gaze, the one he would do anything for and the one he dreamed about so often, he crumbled and just grabbed onto your arms like he was about to collapse.

"I'm sorry." All Gerard could do was stammer.

You allowed him to cling onto you, even as he began to shake, and even when his breathing got labored. It was only after he started crying that you dragged him to the side, into an alleyway where the walls were littered with ads to locally owned cafes, promotions for the latest play, missing posters of everything from a young child with missing teeth to a fully grown adult who look like they'd been through hell. It smelled of everything unpleasant, everything one would expect from an alleyway in the dead center of New York - old piss, lingering sweat, and even blood. One could even taste all these things in their mouth if they stayed put long enough.

Gerard was holding onto you the whole way through as he sniffled, his eyes and nose quickly stinging when a breeze swung by.

"I want the truth, Gerard," When you said his name, his real name, the indifferent attitude you were trying so hard to maintain cracked a bit as your next sentence came out as more of a plea than a demand. "You've been acting so weird since July. I don't know what's wrong, I don't know if you're mad or upset or anything because you won't talk to me. So, could you give me the truth?"

You put your hands over his, gentle as you always were, and slowly removed them from your arms before pushing him back slightly to force him to look at you head on.

Gerard was thankful that his tears blocked your face, or at least made it blurry enough that he couldn't make out your features.

"Gerard?"

"Yes?"

"Can you—" A pause. It sounded like you swallowed something, perhaps you were biting back the waterworks. "—Please give me an answer?" You sounded so unbelievably strained, like merely speaking was causing you so much pain.

Gerard was sure he could give you the world, but the one thing you wanted, which was the truth and his truth, was the exception. The one and only exception.

Because he wasn't ready, because he didn't want to ruin things, and because he didn't want to be selfish but keeping this from you was inherently selfish as well.

So, Gerard wiped his tears so he could get a proper look at you for the first time this night. You were staring at him the whole time, and he'd taken so long to answer that you were silently tearing up.

You were glistening, but in a way that was everything but "good".

There was only one thing he wanted to say to you, and if he did, then this moment would have been every cliché in the world. And maybe he would have if he were a stronger man or if this story were fiction. But neither of those things were true so he captured all that he could— your lovely eyes in particular since conjuring them up in his mind was always especially hard.

Maybe he should have done this before, Gerard realized he'd taken that day in July for granted since that would be the last time you would look at him with regard.

Your eyes as of now were lost of color, only glistening because of the tears and the cheap streetlamp. Everything else was dull, perhaps you'd realized what he'd do.

And what Gerard would do, was to leave. It was a calm departure, one which left you there in the alleyway, still as a statue as he fled. You didn't chase, and he left with silence in his wake.

Because the pain of leaving you unanswered would forever hurt less than leaving you with "I love you".

#mcr #my chemical romance #gerard way #gerard way x reader

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malereaderworld · 9 hours ago

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This wasn’t supposed to happen 📍

Johnny Storm x Male Reader

Warnings: it’s a short one! Want a part 2? ->My reqs are open!

There you were, falling from the sky. You were unconscious; your body had given up a while ago. You were far from home, far from anything that felt like home. Your body was heavy, and your limbs were only attached to you by bones. The people on the streets stood frozen, their heads looking up at the strange object falling from the sky. Some gasped, and some discussed what it could be, causing quite a commotion.

There was Johnny in the comfort of his own room, listening to yet another alien message, a strange language he couldn’t understand, recorded by Reed. When something strange flashed in the corner of his eyes, his back immediately straightened and he looked to his right. Tearing his headphones off and getting out of his room, he ran to the lab. “Reed, did you pick that up?” He storms in, questioning Reed in his lab without even a knock. “Why was there a human falling?” Susan asked, also storming into the room. “It was a human!?” “You also saw it falling?” Johnny looked at his sister, the siblings looking worried at each other. “This cannot be good.” Johnny looks up at Reed, who’s pacing around. “Hello Reed, are you listening?” Johnny asks irritated, Reed fully focused on one of his computers. “It just made impact down town, It’s reading some really unusual energy. We should check it out.”

“Over there, in the grass.” Susan spotted and pointed at the human laying on the grass. “I’m going to take a look!” Johnny says as he flies out of the car, towards the human.

A high-pitched ringing in your ears, your head pounding. Sirens were ringing in the far distance, cars honking at each other. As you carefully try to open your eyes; you close them immediately, your body still in pain from the sudden impact. The last thing you remember is fighting alongside Spider-Man and getting hit by a blaster. Going in and out of consciousness’s. You let out a groan as your breath catches up, starting to cough. “Are you okay?” An unknown voice asks you. You try and look at them, but the sunlight’s too bright. “What—” A cough interrupts your speech. “You made quite a commotion here. Who are you?” The stranger asks you, as he approaches closer and closer. Your eyes slowly adjusted to the light and you could see the stranger. He was… on fire? “…I am—” You try to speak, but you went out of consciousness.

“I have him, he is unconscious!” Johnny grabs your body from the ground and flies to the car, in which Reed and Sue were waiting. “Get him in the lab!” Reed yells. Johnny looks at your face, covered in blood that is your own and others. “What happened to you?” He looks down at you and whispers softly.

#malereaderworld #gay #male reader #x male reader #male reader insert #marvel #fantastic 4 #fantastic four #johnny storm x male reader #johnny storm x reader #johnny storm #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x you #reed richards #susan storm #reqs open #joseph quinn x reader #ben grimm #the thing

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steverogers1991 · 2 days ago

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4x07

I have way too many thoughts about this one but here’s my main highlights/takeaways:

Syd/Richie in the alley, the evolution of their relationship is so beautiful in this show I love that he brings her as emotional support, also “Will you mind holding my cigarette for a second I think I’m gonna throw up” IMMEDIATELY iconic

Frank/Richie and their delicate friendship is so precious because it is clearly hard for both of them being in the position they are for several reasons, but they work together for the little girl who is now both of theirs

Richie/Frank/Eva/Claire/Carm/Sugar I love the part where Richie goes “dog died 3 years ago and you didn’t even like him what’s really going on” good sir how can you both be gentle and reprimand your child in the same sentence, he is such a good dad

Carmy/Tiff/Frank where Tiff is so soft and Carmy is really trying and Frank is honestly SO nice

The Faks (yeah I don’t LOVE them either, Neil is definitely preferred to Ted), but this convo they have with Francie…yeah dude she is the scary Fak for sure

Richie/Jimmy where Richie admits he realized that among all the rocks in that story he is the sand (you are my baby you are)

Carmy/Donna and u can tell Carmy is starting to have a panic attack and then + Syd/Richie swooping in to save him (Richie still hates his guts but reads his cousin like a book and wants to protect him anyway, what a gem of a guy), also Carmy STILL remembering to introduce Syd despite his panic, and then Donna asking “u work for Carmy” and Syd saying yes and Richie being like “fuck that I will say how much of a gangster you are if you won’t” and Carmy holding onto Richie’s arm on his shoulder for dear life, lord this scene is so loaded

Carmy/Lee this convo is so long but mainly CARM WAS AT THE FUNERAL!! Lee is okay I think? I know Lee “not” telling him to go see his mom is another reason Carmy actually does it in the next episode, and showing Carm he is similar to his mom, which is true

Syd/Donna miss Sydney this is your love confession to his mother girl please why have u not told Carm that the best meal of your life was his but you’re telling her PLEASE, also “your work family is part of your family” crying

Carmy/Syd/Stevie later, first off the way Carmy RELAXES when he sees Syd, them both actually genuinely smiling at each other for the first time in a LONG time, maybe ever, Syd defending Donna the same way Pete defended Donna in 2x10, not sure if Carmy is embarrassed of Donna or curious about her or maybe both which is why he asks so many questions; Stevie joining the convo (also before he does Carm literally cannot take his eyes off Syd and sheeee spots Stevie first and says hi) and talking about Carm being their roommate in New York “oh the most cigarettes ever” and Syd finding it adorably endearing and Carmy being shy and embarrassed and explaining himself

Table scene prob needs its own post but I will just say I love this scene and how we see everyone’s personalities so clearly in it and that picture please I want to be in it and I also need it framed for my living room

Carmy/Eva “Hi uncle Carmy” “Hi baby how we doing” SOFT CARM IS TOO MUCH I AM GONNA CRY

All of them dancing at the end, Jimmy being soft with Tiff, Tiff crying with Richie, Richie dancing with Syd, Nat and Pete just dancing unbothered by others, Eva finally dancing with Frank and Richie looking on fondly, Claire and Carm also sure I guess (it is definitely some personality resolution for Carm I can admit that)

I am sure I am missing aspects but I just love this episode so much in general it has so many resolutions

#the bear #the bear season 4 #the bear fx #carmy berzatto #richie jerimovich #sydcarmy #sydney adamu #natalie berzatto #uncle jimmy

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a-little-atypical · 3 days ago

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Ok I actually really really find this aspect of bill and fords characters super interesting and I love to talk about my take on them, but I need y’all to know that the hostility in my first post was mostly a bit and I do not hate either ship. I think it came off a little rude and I feel a little bad :’3 I was actually a massive fiddauthor shipper for a while and I will admit I still have a soft spot for it, and I have read many a billford fics and really liked a good lot of them, even if I find the ship itself to be off putting at times with how some people frame it. All to say no rudeness and I mean all the respect to all head canons!! I seriously do not care that much!!! What some internet people’s headcanons are will never affect me do whatever you want more power to you

TO MY POINT THO the funny thing is that I agree with pretty much everything you said, like yeah you’re completely right there. They loved each other, near obsessively. It’s an incrediblly interesting dynamic!!! My thing is just, I don’t really understand why it’s seen as a romantic relationship so often (Im talking about the people who ship them exclusively romantically here. personally that’s who I think of and the dynamics I see whenever billford comes up, and it being a ship at all implies romance to me, to those who don’t ship them romantically- love y’all, but not who I’m talking to here) (just a disclaimer)

Like yeah whatever they had certainly wasn’t platonic, but it definitely wasn’t romantic to me either. Maybe it’s just me and my general dislike of some sides of shipping culture but it’s strange to me how a lot people will see an abusive relationship and automatically ship the two characters and call it ‘toxic yaoi/yuri!!! 😍😍’. Platonic relationships can be just as abusive, found familial relationships can be just as abusive, whatever the fuck they had going on was just as abusive. And I personally think that’s more interesting and just toxic yaoi anyway (I’m not trying to say billford shippers don’t believe in toxic friendships just that it’s a trend I’ve seen, I swear I’m not reaching that far😭) (it happens a lot in all fandoms too not just here. Just Strange to me. But that’s kinda off topic)

For why I think it’s wildly out of character for them to ever be in an actual romantic relationship together, it depends. Pre portal incident is pretty in character actually, like I could almost see that happening (I don’t think Bill would ever admit to loving a creature as low as a human in his eye so if they did I feel it would be purely a manipulation tactic that Bill gets a little too invested in)

Literally anything after Ford finds out Bill lied?? You can’t convince me Ford would EVER be even slightly willing. Ford HATES Bill, he dedicates 30 whole years of his life to fucking up his plans, he is prepared to die to stop him. Any love, actual love, for Bill is gone by the time he falls into the portal. Some people (emphasis on some, others handle this really really well, some being just what I tend to see) really seem to forget the fact that he was eldritch horror level tortured for WEEKS. The Polaroid page of tBoB we get a snapshot of one of Bills joyrides in fords body and it’s horrifying. and that’s ONE night out of MANY. You can’t tell me that Ford will ever see anyone other than Bill “I will send someone to steal your eyes” Cipher when looking at that evil nacho chip, you can’t.

For saying billford was one sided, I agree. I did not elaborate on my point and can definitely see how it comes across as completely wrong. I was referring mostly to a lot of post canon versions of the ship. Like I just said I genuinely can’t see Ford ever liking Bill back, after weirdmagedon and some character development Ford cannot give less of a shit about Bill. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t very interested in the dynamic of Bill still being obsessed with Ford, even after all this time. The idea of him spending 30 years thinking it was some will they won’t they romcom relationship and Ford was just playing hard to get, up until he lost and had to face the fact that Ford really does hate him now, the one person to love and worship him truly in millennia, wanting him dead, and now even worse, he just doesn’t care anymore. Not even enough to hope he rots just complete apathy towards Bill, and being able to do absolutely nothing about it besides sit and rot with that idea for the rest of eternity??? SO good, I genuinely think that’s both still relatively in character and SUPER interesting and that is my absolute favorite iteration of billford. No notes love seeing that triangle suffer

Either way, I don’t hate billford!! :D I was mostly being silly, I did not mean to give the impression that it was completely genuine and that’s my bad 😭 I definitely have my gripes with it and I feel like there are some very.. problematic? (For lack of a better word) Ways people can ship them. Really most of my issues with even that though are more fandom shipping culture issues rather than the ship itself. I love love LOVE to see how some people portray these two mentally ill idiots, even if I don’t necessarily agree with the headcanon. Their relationship was definitely not platonic not romantic but some secret horrifying third thing and I love to see how people interpret the inhuman relationship they have

The rise of billford over fiddauthor I think says a lot about the part of society that annoys me.

(To be fair Idc about EITHER of your Ford yaoi ships my boy is aroace and you will pry that head canon out of my COLD DEAD HANDS.)

#gravity falls #I think The twink Bill pathetic whiteboy fics I consumed as a joke have done irreparable damage to my image of billford as a whole I’m sorr #stanford pines #bill cipher #ford pines #love getting to talk about these guys #Love getting to hear different perspectives on them even more!!

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scisac · 1 year ago

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newtmas - the maze runner 2014

"what happens if they don't make it?" "they're gonna make it" "what happens if they don't?" "they're gonna make it."

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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 5 months ago

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The Yiling Band Tour!

#poorly drawn mdzs #mdzs #wei wuxian #wen qing #wen ning #digital art #animation #This was a fun style experiment and a good lesson in 'hey you have less than a week to make this project. You cannot be a perfectionist'.#Right now - posting these slightly upgraded frames is really helping me stay motivated through the learning grind.#But progress is happening! I'm so excited to show it off when it's done!#Someone with a very discerning eye might be able to figure out what I'm doing with just this one frame. I will take the risk.#That aside; I often think about how the nature of cultivators in MDZS's world also entailed knowing about other art forms.#Meaning that Wen Qing and Wen Ning likely were good musicians and artists.#We know WWX is also good in art and music so...really...what was stopping them from forming a band?#Allow me to pitch this AU: Yiling Opera company AU. WWX and the Wen remnants form a performing trope and tour towns and cities.#Not only do they find a way to keep on the move (no home...only the road and the people around you).#But you also get to be in costume - which is a socially appropriate way to always be in disguise.#Yiling Laozu would thus be a character and/or WWX's stage name.#Would he be good at keeping it a secret? Hard to say with WWX! I think it would be a poorly-kept secret at best.#He likes to brag and show off a bit too much. This many would be either the worst or best spy.#Consider the drama of JC losing his mind over his ex-brother becoming a clown. Imagine JC Getting his ass kicked by said clown.#Imagine the delectable secret identity drama potential of Lan Wangji stumbling upon the trope's performances.#We did not get nearly enough of the secret identiy drama in MDZS canon. I need more of it.#I need that man conflicted with his feelings for the same person. I need them playing mind games with each other at all times.

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heartkaji · 8 months ago

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currently thinking about bakugo “it’s not that deep” katsuki.

katsuki’s got a temper that makes him more chalant than not, but when it comes to everything else the blonde is relatively…unreactive. it’s not like he tries to be that way, he just has to be. when you’re surrounded by idiots like denki & sero on a daily basis, you eventually learn to choose your fucks & allocate them wisely.

“bakugo, class 1-B’s been hogging the hero equipment—how do we train now ?”

“it’s never that deep, tape face. just go later y’dumbass”

“bakubro, i think my situationship just blocked me—“

“literally just move on. really not that serious.”

the phrase has practically become katsuki’s signature one liner. so it’s a shock when his friends make you realize you’ve never actually heard the words from his lips.

“katsuki ? and nonchalant ? in the same sentence ? you must be joking.”

mina & sero are watching outer banks with your laptop while denki & kiri glance at each other in confusion. “you’re serious? he’s never said stuff like that to you ?”

“like ever?”

“never.” you run a brush through your hair. “though i guess i could imagine him talking to you guys that way.”

“double standards go crazy” mina mumbles. “real.”

“no, guys—all hope is not lost. it could be that y/n is really rational so he never has to say it, you feel me ?”

you scoff, but denki keeps talking, “we can test this out. just get y/n to act really dramatic and see how bakugo reacts.”

sero pauses the episode, ignoring the scowl that graces mina’s lips. “fifty bucks there really is a double standard and bakugo won’t act all nonchalant.”

“fifty bucks ? that’s half my salary!”

“not my fault you work at mcdonald’s dawg. you guys in or what ?”

kiri’s quick to strike the deal on kaminari’s behalf. denki’s about to protest when the fiery blond walks in.

“disgusting. why are you all sitting around like degenerates? not you baby.”

“what happened to ‘hello, how are you?’”

“hi ‘suki.” you purr, ignoring sero. katsuki dips his head to peck your lips, a quiet ‘hey pretty’ mumbled into your cheek.

sero snaps his fingers at the display of affection. “excuse me? in front of my obx?”

“the one you’re watching with my netflix subscription?” bakugo snaps the laptop shut and mina protests with a mouth full of popcorn. you’re about to playfully defend the duo when kirishima nudges your elbow. he cocks his head towards bakugo and you understand immediately.

“katsuki,” you tug at the hem of your boyfriend’s sleeve & look into his eyes with the most tender expression you can muster. “i’m out of lipliner.”

“okay ?”

you hear a snort and you know it’s from sero.

“there’s nothing ‘okay’ about it ‘suki. i need a new one or else i’ll literally die.”

bakugo’s brows knit in confusion. “is this your way of begging me for money?” he begins to dig at his wallet and you swat his arm away.

“beg is insane.”

“i don’t need your money.” you snap. “i need my lipliner. now”

“just order—“ “now.”

“what do you mean now? it’s almost nine pm, where the fuck are you going ?”

“nowhere. i just need it.”

“do you have a fever ?” “katsuki!”

“i need it now ‘suki,” you hug your arms around his body and place your chin on his chest. “if i don’t get it right now i’m literally gonna cry.”

your lips jut into a pout. you can tell he’s about to protest so you take his palm into your own. “it’s not that—fuck. whatever. where the hell are my keys ?”

he gently nudges you off him before grabbing the car keys off the front table, a string of grumbles leaving his lips as he sets out on the side quest regardless. he shuts the door behind him & suddenly the room buzzes back to life.

“y/n your pussy cannot be that good.”

“literally what i’m saying bro.”

“ho did you use rose quartz on him ??”

“i always knew you were a witch for real.”

“this whole interaction just piss me off.”

“i’m going home. denki and kiri, you owe me fifty bucks each.”

“EACH ?”

( bonus )

it’s nearly half an hour later & katsuki isn’t back so you’re starting to get worried. sero and the gang have already left, leaving you to deal with the growing anxiety by yourself. you finally decided to text your boyfriend only to find he’s sent you several messages already:

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sttoru · 1 year ago

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Trueform sukuna who never kisses his concubines. EXCEPT he only kisses his favorite concubine aka reader 😞🎀

𝝑𝑒 synopsis. you’re the only one deserving of lord sukuna’s.. direct affection.

tags. true form!sukuna x concubine!reader. fluff, suggestive at most. uhh exhibitionism ? kinda but nothing crazy sexual happens, so pda. size difference. reader gets called ‘doll.’

you’re standing at the entrance of the estate, along with some other concubines. four of them. uraume is there with you as well. you’re all awaiting the one person you’re serving; ryomen sukuna.

it’s silent. the women don’t dare to speak up nor do they dare address you in a menacing manner because of uraume’s presence. you’re thankful for them. you really don’t want to have another petty fight with the concubines. not before your little trip to the village nearby.

you’re all accompanying sukuna to meet up with an infamous clan leader. it’s official business, but you’re needed as a sign of your lord’s high status. you’re basically his trophies that he likes to show off.

“interesting choice of clothing,” sukuna finally shows up. you all bow, showing respect. you look up and only then realise that he’s addressing you. his eyes wander over your figure, “who’s chosen that for you?”

you glance down at your kimono. it’s a beautiful red—suiting the color of sukuna’s eyes. your hair is put up in a neat bun, with a matching crimson hairpin that represented who you belong to.

him.

“my lady-in-waiting, my lord,” you say quietly. you cannot see it, yet can easily feel it; the jealous glares from the four women. they’re dressed in the exact same color red, yet their lord hasn’t paid them any mind. not even a glance.

sukuna just hums in response and makes a mental note of your answer. at least his human servants are good for something. he continues to shamelessly check you out.

“lord sukuna,” uraume interrupts carefully. they bow their head once the king of curses looks their way with a stoic expression, “we’ll have to leave now if we wish to make it there at dawn.”

it’s a gentle reminder, but there’s some urgency in their voice. sukuna rolls his eyes—he may have some official business, but he’s not attending that. not before taking care of other more important stuff first. “silence,” he comments to uraume, heavy steps heading your way afterwards.

your eyes meet his. you blink in confusion, eyelashes fluttering. the sight makes sukuna’s hands twitch at his sides. the way you stare up at him with such naïveté is making him want to destroy it.

you’re unsure what sukuna wants from you. as he orders, everyone stays quiet. you watch as his big hands wrap around your body—your waist engulfed by his warm palms. your eyes widen, but before you can question his actions, your lips are sealed by his.

it’s rare that he does this. kissing sukuna is a privilege. one that no one has ever gotten the honour of having, except for you.

you’ve tasted him. you’ve felt his tongue slither against yours. you’ve had his saliva mix with yours. you’ve had him grunting in your mouth.

you’ve had it all.

no one says a thing. even as your feet are lifted from the ground by the sheer strength of sukuna’s grip on your small body. to reach his lips properly, he has to pick you up and hold you against his chest. it’s his favorite thing to do.

“pretty thing,” sukuna coos with a grin. you can feel his lips curling up menacingly against your mouth. it makes you whine. you instantly shut up once you realise that you’re still outside and surrounded by others—who are basically waiting on you two to be done.

you’re embarrassed to the point that you want nothing more than to hide your face against sukuna’s chest. but he will not let you until he’s had his fill. your tongues swirl around each other passionately, followed by him sucking on your bottom lip and biting it with his sharp fangs.

“my lord,” you whine quietly. you know this’ll end up like that one time in the garden. where he shamelessly took you in front of his servants. you’re unsure if it’s a smart thing to do right now. sukuna has an appointment to go to after all.

his mouth doesn’t stop interlocking with yours. his thick fingers tug at the hairs on the back of your neck, causing you to part your lips in surprise. the king of curses takes his chance and explores your warm little mouth. the one that he’s claimed as his the moment you became his concubine.

you tug at his sleeve as a reminder. sukuna grumbles in annoyance, but he knows you’re right; he should let go. his bottom set of eyes dart over to uraume for a second and upon seeing their expressionless yet determined face, he sighs.

all that official business can suck his dick.

sukuna finally detaches his lips from your now wet and swollen ones. you’re breathing hard, trying to catch your breath. you’re flustered to the point you actually bury your face into sukuna’s chiseled chest. you’re sure this’ll be the only talk around the estate for the upcoming week. you’ll become the victim of some more. . . bullying.

the king of curses notices that you don’t let go of him at all. he grins at the sight of you so desperately clinging onto him. he tries to undo the little mess he made of your once neat hair in the meantime.

“what? want me to carry you all the way there, doll?” sukuna raises an eyebrow, teasing you as per usual. you don’t let go of him since you’re still cooling off. you’ve never really kissed outside of the bedroom. it always happens behind closed doors, so this one time took you by surprise.

you shake your head and plop down on your feet again. “no, my apologies, my lord,” you straighten the material of your kimono and don’t even dare to look at the others. uraume would understand, since they’re used to their lord’s antics, but the concubines will cause big trouble once you’re back home.

sukuna nods in acknowledgment. he still got that evil smirk on his face. his thumb brushes the smudged lipstick from the corner of your mouth, cleaning up his mess once again. he’s nice enough to do so today.

“heh.” sukuna lets out an amused chuckle before walking away and ahead of you—the others silently following, as do you. you’re right behind him, on his right side, as he turns his head to yours, “just so y’know, i’m not done with you.”

you know sukuna isn’t. you can easily tell by the way that he didn’t even bother to wipe the lipstick from his own lips. he’s wearing that stain like it’s a medal of sorts. evidence that you’re the only one he’s ever going to show such affection to.

either way; you’re in for one hell of a ride once you’re back from your little business trip.

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk x you #sukuna x you #jjk x y/n #sukuna x y/n #jjk fluff #sukuna fluff

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strzxrin · 17 days ago

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SWIM

pairing. yandere!sugar daddy x gn!reader

synopsis. you were getting sick of your current job, needing to take overtime just so that you could spend a little bit more on your interests for once. seeing you in distress, your friend suggests for you to go on a sugar daddy website. what could possibly go wrong?

content warnings. 18+, age-gap (around 10 years), yandere tendencies, porn with plot, obsessive behaviours, stalking, sir kink, blowjob, handjob, drunk sex, usage of drugs, hickeys, marking kink

word count. 4.6k

the sound of the clock ticks in your cubicle.

your eyes were getting hazy and you feel your sanity slowly leaving your body. you finally glanced at the clock, seeing that it was 10 pm, making you sigh silently.

you stretched out your arms and cracked your back, feeling tired for the fifth time today. god knows how much coffee you consumed to get the reports done, but you did it. all for the sake of getting your overtime salary.

as you pack up and clean up your desk, you feel the day’s exhaustion hitting you like a truck. you finally clocked out for the day, and you checked the date, 23rd of august. “three more days until it’s pay day..” you murmured, heading to the parking lot and got in your car.

you started the engine and drove back to your apartment in silence. “i’ve been going home at 10 pm every day for the past month, so it’s an additional…” you murmured, calculating the hours you work in a day.

“five more hours, so 13 hours a day for working.. and then..” you were calculating for your pay this month. “around three thousand.. well, that’s better” at least you’re getting more money.

it’s not as if the company is a bad company, you were just stuck with the same salary for almost a year and a half now. you were waiting until you got to become a permanent staff member and have a salary increase so that you wouldn’t have to keep doing an extra five hours just to spend on your interests a bit more.

“one point four thousand left to spend.. okay, that should be good i think. i hope.” you grumbled to yourself.

the car ride was around 30 minutes before you pulled up to your apartment. you went into the lift, then your floor and made a b-line straight to your unit. “i’m home..” you murmured as you see your two roommates sitting on the couch and watching a movie.

they paused the movie and looked at your face with a wince. “jesus, ( name ), you look like a zombie.”

“gee… thanks becca” you grumbled, taking off your shoes and locking the door before putting your work bag on the dining table.

“no but seriously dude, you look like you just got hit by a truck”

“i’m aware of that nate” you murmured, finally plopping down on the couch.

you lived with two people, having to split the rent and bills with each other. nathaniel and rebecca. rebecca is an engineering student, she is doing her masters right now, and her university is nearby, hence why she’s renting. while nathaniel is working in a tech company, but he follows the 9-5 seriously and gets back home at around 5pm.

“have you eaten dinner yet?” rebecca asks gently as you shook your head. “too busy with the work to really go and grab dinner. plus, i only eat like, once a day, so i should be fine” “dude. that’s not healthy”

“yeah yeah” you waved it off. the both of them looked at each other before looking at you and rebecca immediately grabbed both of your shoulders. “you cannot keep living like this ( name ). you’re bound to die from exhaustion if you keep this up”

you looked at her and sighed, knowing that she’s not wrong necessarily. but it’s what you had to do, you can’t keep having the minimum wage every month and only have around a hundred bucks to spend for your own entertainment.

“then what else am i supposed to do? i can’t quit this job, i’ve been here for around a year and a half. plus, my bosses are genuinely nice and all.”

“we know that, but what you’re doing right now is literally going to kill you.” nathaniel tried to put his input before rebecca sighs and looked at you.

“i have a suggestion, but, promise not to freak out” you hummed and slowly nodded, wondering what she might say.

“get a sugar daddy.”

“rebecca what—”

“no, ( name ), hear me out on this.”

you grumbled. even if you wanted to refute and say no to the idea, but the thought of you finally having a break seemed nice. so, you thought you should humour her for a bit.

“you’re attractive, ( name ). so someone out there is most definitely willing to pay for your time. you can try it out once, and if you don’t like it, you can pull out. just once, please? i actually like my roommate, believe it or not”

you snorted at her words before sighing. “once.” you see the both of them smiling. you were just glad that tomorrow is a weekend. they’ll probably set up your sugar baby account tomorrow.

and how right you were.

when the next day came by, the three of you were on the couch and rebecca was choosing one of your photos to put as a profile pic on the website.

“ughhh maybe i shouldn’t have agreed to your words when i’m delirious, becca”

“shhh this is for your own good, trust me.”

you doubt that anyone would consider you attractive enough to pay for your time. hell, in fact, maybe you’ll forget about it after a week since no one would want you. the setting of the account was done, and you got up from the couch from exasperation.

“this is so stupid, no one would want me—” but the sound of your phone notification rung in the room and you paused.

“well, maybe someone does want you!” nathaniel showed your screen in excitement, and you looked at the profile to see a man there and he texted you in interest of wanting to be your sugar daddy.

looks like you have a date to put in your calendar now.

｡｡｡｡｡｡

third’s time the charm, he supposes.

he isn’t desperate to have a sugar baby, not by a long shot. but he’s been getting more and more pent up the longer he waits. the last time he had done this was three years ago, and that sugar baby was a bust. being extremely clingy is one thing, but to be overly bratty is another.

raymond is a man who thrives on punishment and the thrill of adrenaline. his last sugar baby gave him headaches and the urge to silence him permanently.

this thing; the entire sugar baby-sugar daddy situation, he only sees it as a transaction. pay for some time to have someone warm his bed, and that’s it. he doesn’t need strings attached to him because it’ll just slow him down.

he’s been born into this business. to lead the mafia with precision since young, and he didn’t have a good example of a stable love life with his parents either. love is a weakness, especially in his line of work.

they could be used as collateral just so he could do his enemies’ bidding. but luckily for him, he has never fell in love. and he doubts that this sugar baby website will bring him love.

to a certain point in raymond’s life, he always thought he was incapable of love. and perhaps in a different life, where he wasn’t born into the mafia, where he could live however he wanted without the dangers lurking in the shadows, maybe he would’ve found someone he loved — hell, maybe he would’ve been married and had kids by now.

but that’s not this life.

and currently, he’s just a man who needed a good hole to fuck. this isn’t charity work after all. he wanted company in bed, and if he really needs to, then company for events.

for now, he needs to prioritise finding the right sugar baby for his standards. and he hopes that they wouldn’t be just as troublesome as the last one.

as he scrolled through the website, his eyes caught a new profile. usually he knows that new profilers meant that they were desperate for cash. but he isn’t so sure if this person would cling onto him at every chance they get… his fingers stopped his scrolling.

well aren’t you a gorgeous thing? your looks were up to his standard, and he didn’t know why but he felt as if there was a pull to the screen for him to have you.

so, he did something irrational and texted you first. you were typing for too long for a short reply, but he supposes it’s your first time. he’ll need to create a new sugar baby contract for you then. and he’s a little curious to know how you’d take on your new title.

there was a date set, and was free during that time slot. he made sure you were aware that he’s a man who cherishes his time, which meant that he did not tolerate any lateness. if you were even late for five minutes, he’ll cancel this transaction.

he’s not taking risks for someone who could be incompetent.

but still, he had a feeling you’ll exceed his expectations. and that’s something he’s willing to try out.

he was going to turn off his phone, to continue on with his work, but his eyes kept lingering on your profile. a wave of desperate knowledge hitting him; he needed to know everything about you.

he rationalised with himself, saying he’s just doing this because he needed to know if you’re competent, but he knows that deep down it isn’t. and he doesn’t know why. so, he started to search you up.

he came across your linkedin since that’s where he knew he should start. he found your job. you were a fresh grad, working for a company who paid minimum wages — and he sees why you’re so desperate to get money now. he looked at the company’s website, seeing that you were the employee of the month, being their best employee by showing incredible results you had done for the company.

at least he knows that you’re hardworking and willing to bend your back now.

he then found which university you had attended and it began with his social media searching. he found you in the end, he got obsessed to know how you were on social media, he sees your posts but he also knew that this was most definitely not your spam account.

seeing your main, seeing this meant that he’s only seeing what you present to the world, maybe family members, maybe some friends you weren’t close to. all he knows that this may not be the real you. and he’s not satisfied with that.

it’s fine. he has time.

he’ll ask his men to do some more research about you. he has the resources. but he had a feeling in his gut, he didn’t want anyone else getting to you.

what if some other bastard tries to get his hands on you?

he can’t have that. no.

he’ll have you all to himself now. he’ll find a way to know you more, and soon he’ll know you better than you know yourself before the day you were set to meet him.

｡｡｡｡｡｡

you had finally gotten your pay after three days. and just as you calculated it, you have around a thousand and four hundred to spend.

you were thankful that you worked up to this point and that meant that you can actually think about what to spend with that money. were you tempted to pay for your games? absolutely. the new cards were coming out, and you wanted to get them because you heard that it was good.

but you also knew that you had three more cards days until you meet your sugar daddy. after talking with him in the chats for a while, you knew him to raymond.

maybe tomorrow you’ll clock out early instead of the usual timings so that you can focus on buying some clothes to meet raymond. you were nervous to say the least, and the fact is, you don’t have anything to wear. all your clothes were for comfort, and even if there was anything that seemed nice, it wouldn’t fit with the place you were going in the first place.

he wanted to meet up at a fancy restaurant. do you have anything fancy? only formal attire that you use for work if there is a meeting, though you’re not sure if that’s enough. so, you went to your roommates that night, asking for assistance in what to wear. and they did you justice for the next day.

the three of you went on a shopping spree. well, as much of a shopping spree you could do with your amount of money in your card. “we’re aiming for presentable in a fancy restaurant.” you tell them as rebecca looked the most excited for this.

“alright!”

“why are you so excited becca..?”

“she’s been wanting to doll you up for the longest time, let her be” nathaniel chuckles softly as you sighed.

“but i don’t think i have bad style..?”

“no you don’t, she’s just like that to everyone and herself. i was the victim last time when i told her to help me out on a date”

you snorted at nathaniel’s words but went along with it. rebecca practically dragged you from one aisle to another, picking out what seemed best for you and asked nathaniel for colour opinions.

as you watch the both of them go around and pick some clothes for you, you suddenly get a message on your phone.

raymond i’d suggest getting anything black. it would suit you, and the place we’re going.

you blinked at the message you had received and looked around the place to see if he was there. that would be weird and coincidental if you had met him before the date you both had set for the luncheon.

( name ) alright? but are you at the shop right now?

raymond no, i just assumed that you may be wondering about what to wear for our date. are you in the middle of shopping currently?

( name ) yes i am. i’m with my roommates. we’re trying to choose something for me to wear

raymond then as i said, black would suit you best.

( name ) alright. thank you.. i’ll see you on the day itself.

and he left you on read. you were a little bit confused but you tried not to think too much about it and went back shopping with your roommates, telling them what raymond had told you just now.

in the end, you three had settled with a black top with a small slit in the middle of your neck with black slacks. “let’s hope this is enough guys” you murmured to yourself as they hummed and nodded.

“i think that it would. we saw you trying it on just now, it fits the vibe” nathaniel mused as you sighed before just nodding along. the three of you went back home and made dinner with the groceries you guys have left.

when it came to the day of the luncheon, you felt a little nervous because you didn’t know if you dressed well for him or not. first impressions do matter after all.

you came in five minutes earlier than the set time because you didn’t want to be late nor did you want to seem too laid back on this. as you went to where he reserved a seat, it was just an empty room, and you felt awkward. you didn’t necessarily know what to do in this situation, and you were fiddling with your phone.

you scrolled down your feed, trying to calm yourself down from the inevitable. and in the end the door opened which revealed him. you blinked when you saw the man.

he’s gorgeous. brown hair, dark brown eyes, some facial hair on him — he was built like a greek statue and you felt out of place. maybe you shouldn’t have done this.

“( name ), correct?” he asks as you nodded slowly. “mr.raymond.. right?” he gives you a small smile before sitting down across from you.

“that’s right, dear” he murmured.

you feel his eyes on you and you find yourself squirming under his gaze. you didn’t know what to talk about, but all you knew was that you didn’t belong here. in such a fancy restaurant with someone who’s 10 years older, and with someone who carries himself as if he has the entire world underneath his feet.

“let’s discuss on the contract, about our wants and needs” he started, calling the waiter for to order his meal. you looked at the menu hesitantly and he looked at you “get whatever you want, i can pay for everything” you knew that mentally, but you were still worried.

you were about to try to find the cheapest thing on the menu but even then it was 70 bucks. you felt like you were going to die deep down and raymond could see the look on your face which made him chuckle.

“so?”

you mentally sighed and closed your eyes when it came to looking at the prices. you chose one of the meals and he ordered something else. the waiter took your orders and left, leaving you have some privacy with raymond.

“so,” he looked at you and hummed. “what are you expecting out of this relationship?” he asks as you looked at the table, trying to think about everything. “uhm.. monetary value, of course?” you say as he muses at your words “and are you willing to do anything in regards to getting your money?”

you were hesitant but you nodded slowly. “we can start off slow, if that helps you ease into this. i’m not doing this for charity work, of course. i expect to have company in bed, and if it came to it, company during events.” he explained as you nodded.

you knew this was going to happen. after all, this is supposed to be a sugar baby-sugar daddy dynamic. “right.. then.. may i ask when are we starting the uh.. activities, per say?” he just gives you a smile.

“tonight.”

you almost choked out the water you were drinking. “o-oh.. i uh.. i see..” it’s not as if you were a virgin to begin with, especially in this generation. but you never had pleasurable experiences when you did it.

“again, we can start off slow, figure out your kinks and pleasures.” he reminded you and you nodded. the food came soon enough and you sat there, eating your meal as he slowly eased you into being slightly relaxed for the night that is bound to come.

｡｡｡｡｡｡

it was the end of the day now. he bought you dinner after buying some of the things that you had wanted. it took him a while to convince you — in reality, he told you that anything you laid eyes upon he will buy it immediately — and in the end you caved and got the things that you wanted.

most of it was merch of the games that you wanted to play, bands that you enjoyed, merch of shows that you love. all the things to decorate your room with, if anything.

and he finds that to be an endearing part of you. he told you that if you wanted to get clothes or jewellery you could, but you were still adamant on that, so maybe another time then.

regardless, you were now in his house. he invited you to come here, because driving late at night would be dangerous, he told you. you stayed and he gave you a drink of two, and in the end, you had gotten drunk.

he had slipped in an aphrodisiac in your drink, and you felt the heat everywhere in your body. your mind felt fuzzy and you looked at him with a glazed expression which made him hum. “you can’t take your alcohol can you, sweetheart?” he murmurs, pulling you into his arms as you wrap yourself around him.

now that he’s seen you drunk, he can’t afford to have you be drunk without him being around. if anything, he just wants to be the only one who sees you like this. helpless and vulnerable, and so very ripe for the taking. he sees the look in your eyes, the way you parted your lips and leaned closer to him.

he hums and tilts your chin up so that he could pull you in closer and kiss you ever so softly. your lips tasted sweet, or maybe it was the alcohol, he can’t tell anymore. all he knew is that he was addicted by the taste of you the moment he had kissed you.

he held onto your waist a bit tighter to keep you in place and you wrapped your arms around his neck. his hands went down to the back of your thighs and brought them up, which you hopped a bit and wrapped your legs around his waist, making him groan.

“that’s it sweetheart” he grunted against your lips, now carrying you all the way to his room while he made sure you’d be breathless by the kisses. he had sat down at the edge of the bed and pulled away, hearing your soft pants and gasps for air only made his pants grow tighter.

he lets you breathe, but his mouth has went straight to your neck, planting kisses and bite marks to make sure you remember that you are his at the end of this session. he plans to make sure that you aren’t able to walk for a while.

you let out small whines at his nibbling and you felt his hand going underneath your shirt to feel more of your skin. you shuddered a bit and looked at him with half-lidded eyes. “sir..” you whimpered out and he paused at his ministrations when he heard your voice.

“mphm.. what did you just call me, sweetheart?” oh how you looked at him with such big doe eyes, almost so innocent to how you’re affecting him. “i called.. you sir..” you murmured out as he hummed. “mm.. just keep calling me that, lovely” he whispers and takes you in for another round of kisses.

you pant and held onto his shirt, and with so little thoughts you had in your pretty head, you grind against his bulge which made him gently pulled on your lips with his teeth. “so.. impatient, aren’t you..” he murmurs, pulling away from your lips and gently brushed the hair out of your face.

“need you.. please, sir..” you murmured. your body was overheating, but all you wanted was the ache to go away. and with the way he was touching you, you were sure that he could do it. “yeah..? you want me to make it all go away, don’t you?” you nodded stupidly making him give you a lazy smirk.

“such a good baby..” he whispered softly and he brought your hands from his chest down to his pants. you felt his bulge and you felt your body becoming hotter. “won’t you be good and stuff your mouth with it?” he asks softly right at your ear and you slowly went down, following his command.

you took off his belt, then unzipped his pants while you kneeled right in between his legs. you looked up at him innocently before he pulls your head closer to his dick and lets you smell him. you shuddered at the scent and finally took him out from his fly before kissing his tip.

“theeeree you go.. so good for me” he murmurs as he ran his fingers through your hair. you took in his size, he was big, almost the length of your face and you felt overwhelmed. can you fit it in your mouth? you’re not too sure.

“it’s okay baby.. take it slow” he whispers as you sheepishly nodded and opened your mouth to start sucking on his tip. your mouth felt full just by the bulbous tip before you went further in, wanting to please him.

he’s given you so much today, the least you could do is giving him the pleasure he wants.

you bobbed your head slowly, up and down and for the rest that couldn’t fit in your mouth, you used your hand. raymond groaned at the feeling of your warm, wet mouth wrapped around his cock.

you look so pretty like this.

he wanted to push your head down straight to the base and fuck your mouth until your eyes rolled back from the lack of air. but he won’t. not yet at least. he guides your head and watches as you struggle to take all of his length, but you seemed to almost be obsessed with his dick, so he could guess you were already cock drunk.

“such an obedient slut,” he murmured and finally pulled you off his dick. “you prepared it well enough, get back on my lap once more, sweetheart” you whined at the loss of his dick but nodded regardless.

tonight’s going to be a long night for you.

｡｡｡｡｡｡

the next morning came by and you woke up with an ache in your back. you groaned softly, trying to move around when you felt arms wrapped around your waist.

you opened your eyes immediately and looked to see raymond looking at you with a small cocky smirk which made your whole body feel warm from embarrassment. you were so close to him, you swear he could hear how loud your heart was beating currently.

“good morning, love” he murmured and his morning voice made shivers run down your spine. why does he sound good in the morning? this isn’t fair to you. “good morning..” you whispered softly.

your voice was hoarse, and you were naked, so you could guess what happened last night. “i.. uh.. i didn’t do anything stupid, right?” you asked gently and he played with your hair for a bit.

“no, in fact you pleased me well last night. your moans were delectable to say the least—”

“okay! haha.. please stop talking” you shrunk into yourself and you hear his chuckle.

he was doing things to your stomach and you didn’t know what to feel about it. “regardless, i think the both of us has a good synergy together,” he murmured and tilted your chin so that you’ll look at him. “therefore, i think it’s good to say that you’ve satisfied my needs.”

you see him take his phone from the bedside table, swiping and typing along some things before you felt your phone buzzing on the bed. you blinked and looked at the notification only to see 800 000 has been transferred into your account.

“waiwaiwait!” you sputtered before he hummed.

“is it too little? i was thinking on giving you a million immediately–”

“no! this is fine, i promise!” you say, looking at the money in awe.

you didn’t think you could have this much money on hand. you could buy so many games after this. you hesitantly looked back up at him, blinking a bit. “is this all mine..?” you asked softly, and he chuckled at your words before kissing your forehead gently. “yes, it’s all yours.”

he sees your bright smile, and he felt his heart flutter. this was supposed to be just transactional, but he could tell that he’ll be spiralling. seeing you smile made his day happier, and his mood better. he needs to have you around often now. and he’ll make sure he’s have you around often. he’ll make sure you’ll stay in his arms forever.

you need him and he needs you, that’s how it goes, doesn’t it?

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trampleddoves · 3 months ago

Note

For the blurb thingy: him fucking you into overstimulation and you weakly try to push him off but you can't so he just guides you to hold onto your plushie while he keeps fucking into you...<3

s. r. blurb 9

contents: afab!reader, dom!Spencer, penetrative sex, overstimulation, mentions of a safe word but not used, corruption of a plushie, MDNI

You aren't sure where Spencer gets his stamina in bed.

You love him, really you do, in all his lanky, nerdy glory, but Spencer Reid can barely run up two flights of stairs without losing his breath. He cannot run like a normal person while holding his gun, often leaning on one side as if the gun weighs more than it actually does and is dragging him down.

Yet somehow, without fail, he manages to last multiple rounds of sex

At first, you assumed he's trying to compensate for something. He reaches his climax quite quickly—Being buried inside you seems to set every nerve in his body on gasoline, white hot flames licking just under his skin and erupting without warning. You both cry out, his in pleasure, and you out of surprise, your head thrown back as he spills deep inside your cunt. He pushes through the orgasm, taking advantage of the slick that’s gathered inside your walls to fuck you even harder.

You thought he’s just being thorough. He wants you to climax as well, after all, he’s simply being a thoughtful lover.

All delusions of that fly out the window by the time you come down from your high for the second time in a row, and he’s still going. Fingers at your clit, alternating between infinite circles and playful pinching, he fucks you hard and deep even as your vision swims and you’re barely coherent.

The sheets are ruined beneath you, your slick dripping down your ass and thighs and soaking the bed. His cock is slick, a ring of creamy white gathered and coating the base, evidence of your release that’s mixed and dripped out from your swollen, sensitive folds.

For someone who’s so adamant about exchanging germs and bacteria, Spencer Reid can be awfully filthy in bed. It’s overwhelming. Dizzyingly so. But something about your hazy, dreamy state only fuels him during nights like these, so he slows down, deliberately keeping himself on edge as he cups your breasts in his big hands, catching your nipples between his long fingers.

Your hands lift up, sluggishly pushing his forearms away, and he pauses.

“Too much?” he rubs his palms over your chest, before they skate down your back, easing his rhythm to something more gentle and tender, “Need your safe word?”

You mumble something incoherent, eyes closing as his cock slides out. Your cunt tightens around him greedily, because despite everything, you relish this just as much as he does. The mind numbing sensitivity is simply too euphoric to ignore, the way you can feel your cunt ease up or squeeze around him is downright addictive, and even the loud, sinful sounds of wet skin slapping hard into each other is music to your ears. You love that his strength and stamina seems reserved specifically for you and your intimate nights, that he has something of a reservoir of physicality that he keeps hidden away from people.

You whimper again, twisting to the side.

“Darling? Talk to me.” he croons, laying his body over yours. His weight presses you into the mattress, cock sitting heavily inside your walls. It helps ground you enough to extract an answer.

“I’m fine. I’m fine, keep going.”

“You sure?” he kisses your jaw, tongue licking up to your ear, hot and wet and filthy, “We can always stop.”

You clench around his cock in response.

A breathless laugh. He lifts himself on one elbow, his other arm reaching for the closest fluffy thing he could find, which happens to be a large penguin plushie. “Here, hold onto Mr. Butters for me, love.”

You moan, one arm holding the toy to your chest, the other grasping his hand desperately, “We’re corrupting Mr. Butters.” you whimper as he begins to move again, pulling out of your delicious heat before snapping back inside.

“Not the first time we’ve done so, unfortunately.” he chuckles, finding a steady rhythm, “You still with me?”

“Mhm hmm,” you nod, gasping as he lifts your hips for a better angle. You swear you feel him in your stomach like this, reaching spaces so deep, spaces only he’s able to feel.

“That’s it,” he groans, roughly thrusting into you, “Good girl. Just hold onto Mr. Butters.”

So you do. Poor Mr. Butters, with you through thick and thin, bearing witness to your childhood fears and teenage folly, and now, your very adult activities.

#spencer reid fan fiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine smut #spencer reid smut blurb #dom spencer reid #spencer reid x you smut #✒️ penned by dove

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helaintoloki · 5 months ago

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Hello and good evening,

I saw you opened requests so I'm dropping by!

What about an infinity stone mishap that has multiple Bucky variants be at the compound at the same time. (Let's just have Winter Soldier be not entirely murderous for the sake of Tony's heart) and literally no one can seem to keep some apart except Steve and reader, who goes off on a rant about all the teeny tiny, to her very obvious details that differ between the Bucky's and accidentally in doing so admits she has a huge crush on him/them??

I hope that made sense omg

And as always, only if it speaks to you and you're up for it! ♡♡

a/n: hi hon, ty for sending this in! i’ll admit this was a bit challenging to tackle but still fun! hope you don’t mind that i changed a few details in the process <3

warnings: light angst, lots of pining, fluff

summary: a multiversal mishap leaves the compound teeming with Bucky variants, and Steve entrusts you with helping him figure out which one is the real deal

“I think I had a nightmare like this once,” Sam shudders as the two of you survey the plethora of Bucky’s taking up space in the compound. A multiversal mishap had led to an overflow of variants into the compound, and now your team found themselves working vigorously to determine which Bucky was your own and which ones needed to be sent back to their proper dimension.

Getting rid of the Winter Soldiers had been the easiest, the red stars on their arms giving away their identities and also giving Tony a heart attack in the process. You could tell apart the Bucky’s with hair that was too long or too short, the one’s that had brown or green eyes instead of blue, and the ones that went by Jane instead of James. The real work, however, came when there was only a handful of variants left that looked identical to your own Bucky.

“We can’t take any chances,” Steve says after having approached you and Sam. “All of these men are going to insist they’re our version of Bucky, and we can’t risk sending back the wrong one. I’m really going to need your help on this, y/n.”

“Why me?” You retort with furrowed brows, nervously peeking your head out of the office to observe the variants that sit restless in the common room.

“Out of everyone here, you and I know Bucky best,” the blond states truthfully. “I think if we work together we have a better shot at cleaning up this whole mess. The sooner the better.”

“You got that right,” Sam scoffs, prompting you to roll your eyes in response.

You couldn’t exactly deny the truth in Steve’s words. Other than Captain America himself, Bucky considered you to be one of his closest friends. Your kindhearted nature made it easy for him to gravitate towards you when first joining the team, and after saving each other’s asses on multiple occasions, he knew you were someone he could entrust with his life. You tore down his walls with ease, you brought out the best in him, and he’d forever be indebted to you for your friendship.

You decide with Steve that the best course of action is to spend one-on-one time with each Bucky you cross paths with to detect any abnormalities in their behavior. The Captain makes it abundantly clear that you cannot let them cloud your judgement with pleasantries, and it’s pertinent you trust your gut with each decision you make. The pressure is on, and you feel the nerves settling in your gut as you approach the Bucky that has made himself at home in the communal kitchen.

“Hey, stranger,” you call gently, a pleasant smile on your face as you seat yourself at the island counter. You note with interest how the man visibly relaxes at your presence and sets aside the pot of tea he’d just finished brewing. His eyes are bright like your Bucky’s, full of adoration and relief when he sets them upon your face.

“Y/n,” he breathes out gently before coming to meet you at the counter, “you have no idea how glad I am to see you, doll.”

“Rough day?” You prompt understandingly.

“Where do I even begin? Being around so many versions of myself is more unsettling than I ever could have imagined.”

“Well, Steve and I are doing our best to fix that,” you assure him. You watch as the man turns back to his pot of tea and begins to pour you both a cup. There’s nothing unusual about this considering your Bucky also enjoys drinking tea; it helps him keep calm and relaxed before retiring for the night.

“How many are left?” He asks before handing you your mug.

“Around ten. Steve and I are making our rounds to figure out which Bucky is ours.”

“Am I your Bucky?” The man prompts with a raised brow while taking a careful drink from his cup.

“You tell me,” you reply with a faint smile, ignoring the way your heart begins to flutter when he refers to himself as ‘your Bucky.’

“I know you have a scar on your stomach from being stabbed by another Widow in the Red Room, and the reason I know that is because I accidentally walked in on you changing in the shower room once,” Bucky admits with a sheepish laugh, prompting your face to heat with embarrassment.

“God, don’t remind me,” you groan while hiding your face in your hands. It’s not exactly comforting to know that Bucky has accidentally seen you naked in at least two different universes, but it also doesn’t make it easier to determine if this man is an imposter.

“I know you like your tea with a tablespoon of honey,” he continues before gesturing to your cup. You hum thoughtfully and set the mug down before meeting his gaze.

“I do, and I know you only like chamomile tea,” you reply, prompting Bucky to stiffen in front of you as you look down at the mug in front of you. “But this is green tea.”

Sighing, the doppelgänger sets his cup down with a defeated frown before meeting your gaze with pleading eyes. “Don’t make me go back.”

“I’m sorry, but it has to be done. We can’t risk the effects that come with having two Bucky’s in one place.”

“Then can I ask you a favor?” The man says solemnly.

“Of course.”

“Before you send me back, can I… is it okay if I hug you?” He asks, catching you by surprise. Noting the confusion on your face, Bucky gives you a dejected smile that doesn’t reach his eyes before explaining, “We don’t talk anymore in my universe. I was an idiot, and you rightfully cut me out of your life. This is the first time in years you’ve looked at me with love and not utter disgust, and I just want to enjoy it a little longer before I have to leave.”

Your heart aches for this poor Bucky who very clearly misses you, or at least his version of you, so you can’t find it in yourself to deny his request. You wordlessly rise from your seat and allow him to wrap his arms around your frame. His hold is tight, his nose brushing against your neck as he savors the feel of your touch, and you feel terrible for the fact that there isn’t anything you can do to help him.

“I’m not sure what happened between the two of you,” you utter quietly while rubbing comforting circles into his back, “but if she’s anything like me, I know she probably misses you but is too stubborn to admit it. Don’t give up on her.”

You release him with a smile and find his eyes shining with tears as he lets your words settle. You bid him a final goodbye before escorting him to Tony and Bruce so that he can be properly transferred back to his own time. That’s only one Bucky down with several more to go, and you know now that you really have your work cut out for you. This is going to be much more difficult than you anticipated.

You stumble upon the next Bucky quietly ruminating in your room, and it takes him a moment to detect your presence as you lean against the doorway and simply observe his mannerisms. You can already tell this isn’t your Bucky by the way he anxiously taps his fingers against his knees; your Bucky’s tell is the anxious bouncing of his leg. This Bucky also wears his hair pulled back into a ponytail, whereas your Bucky prefers to tie his hair back into in a half-up style.

His eyes widen in shock when he finally notices you standing there, and you’re taken aback by the way he nearly flings himself at you. His strong arms wrap around your midsection and lift you off the ground, holding you impossibly tight against him as if you’ll disappear otherwise.

“жена,” he whispers in a trembling voice while combing a hand through your hair.

“I don’t speak Russian…” you voice with an uncomfortable laugh, struggling to take a breath due to how tightly you’re pressed against him. “Buck, you’re kind of suffocating me here.”

The man finally releases you after your admission, but his hands immediately find their way to your cheeks as he cups your face and rests his forehead against your own. You’re startled by the closeness, but there’s no denying the rapid beating of your heart when you stare into his troubled eyes. You’ve had daydreams like this before, but it’s jarring to experience it in person.

“When I arrived here and came across your room I thought it was too good to be true,” he utters shakily, “but you’re here. You’re alive.”

“Bucky, I-“

“You’ve come back to me, жена.”

“жена?” You repeat unsurely. His panicked features melt into a fond smile at the sound of your botched Russian, and he carefully pushes back your hair before gifting you a nod of confirmation.

“Wife.”

Your eyes widen at his proclamation, your heart dropping to your chest while you process the weight of his words and struggle with the turmoil inside of you. You thought dealing with the Bucky from the kitchen was difficult, but this is way out of your playing field.

“Oh god,” you breathe out before carefully removing his hands from your face. He frowns.

“What’s wrong?”

“I know this is all really confusing, but I’m not…” you start to say, grappling with your guilt at having to crush the man’s hopes of being reunited with his version of you, “I’m not your wife.”

The man’s features become sullen at your confession, brows furrowing in disappointment and confusion. “What do you mean? You aren’t y/n?”

“I am, but I’m just not the same y/n you know. This is a different dimension, and you were sent here by accident.”

“So you’re not… she’s not really alive, then,” he murmurs dejectedly, eyes casting towards the floor in despair.

“No, and I’m so sorry I’m not the one you’re looking for,” you console, resting a comforting hand on his bicep. Bucky’s eyes flutter shut at the feel of your touch, something he’d been lacking since your death. You aren’t his wife, but in spite of that, he is grateful to be able to speak to you and see your face once more. “Can I ask what happened to her?”

“Hydra wanted revenge for my desertion and for aiding Captain America in their destruction,” Bucky utters lowly, eyes hardening at the memory. “An eye for an eye. She paid the price for my mistakes, and I’ve spent every waking moment avenging her death.”

A chill runs through your spine as you hear the recounting of your counterpart’s death, but you do your best to remain composed while in the presence of this alternate version Bucky. Your heart aches for the man, and you once again find yourself completely useless at trying to help him.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you express solemnly. Despite this, Bucky looks to you with a tender smile before carefully taking your hand in his own.

“Don’t be. I know you’re not her, but seeing you again, hearing your voice- It’s the most precious gift I could ask for. Thank you for giving me some semblance of peace.”

You’re a wreck when this Bucky is returned to his own timeline, and after multiple instances of running into Bucky’s who believe you’re their y/n Steve assures you that he’ll take over moving forward. It seems that each Bucky you speak to cares so fondly for you, they adore you even, and yet in this universe you’ve been designated as a close friend and nothing more. It’s killing you to see all the ‘what if’s,’ because deep inside you know that you’ll never be with your Bucky the way you want to.

You’re not sure when your crush on the super soldier had first developed, but you know that you’ve harbored these romantic feelings for him for quite a while now. You’ve never told anyone, though you can guess Steve was smart enough to figure it out on his own, and you have no urge to act on such feelings in fear of how complicated things will become if he doesn’t reciprocate your emotions.

Your rumination leaves you in deep thought as you sit out on the balcony and enjoy some quiet after all the chaos you’ve endured. You hear the sliding door open and shut behind you, but you make no attempt to see who it is until they seat themselves beside you. You peek at Bucky from the corner of your eyes before returning your gaze to the New York skyline, simply enjoying his presence without making an effort to speak.

“You doing okay?” He asks, effectively breaking the silence between you.

“I didn’t think being around multiple versions of you would be so exhausting,” you confess with a humorless laugh, but it prompts his lips to quirk up slightly into a smile.

“You’re starting to sound like Sam,” he teases with a careful nudge to your side. While you’d normally laugh at his jokes, Bucky doesn’t even get a smile out of you. You feel him shift closer to you and hope he can’t detect the way your heart picks up a beat in response. He nudges you again softer this time and asks, “Talk to me. What’s eating you?”

“Every Bucky variant I met today looked at me like I moved heaven and earth together, like I was their reason for getting up in the morning, and I guess it just reminded me of the fact that my own Bucky doesn’t really look at me that way.”

You pull your knees up to your chest and let your chin fall on top of them with a melancholic sigh. A part of you feels embarrassed to be voicing your disappointment aloud, but you figure there’s no harm in telling a variant since you’ll never have to see them again after today.

“Do you want him to look at you that way?”

“Of course I do,” you avow incredulously like the answer isn’t already obvious. “I love him so much that Steve trusted my judgement enough to have me help him sniff out the doppelgängers. I know how he likes his tea, how he does his hair, what his favorite movie is- the list could go on forever. But of course, I live in the one universe where Bucky and I don’t end up together.”

You feel his hand come to rest on the small of your back and shudder at the feel of his cool metal hand seeping through your sweater. You can’t help but to lean against him so that your head is rested on his shoulder, and you’re able to find some comfort in his presence. You hear him let out a thoughtful hum beside you.

“You want to know something?” Bucky pronounces. He feels your head nod against him and smiles. “I know the exact moment I fell in love with you.”

The confession has you lifting your head to peer up at him questioningly. “You do?”

“Of course I do. We were on a mission, and you picked up Steve’s shield to stop a bullet from hitting me straight on before using it to knock out three bad guys in a row. You looked so strong, so beautiful. My heart was yours from then on.”

“I didn’t think you remembered that,” you confess quietly, stomach fluttering with nervous butterflies.

“Haven’t stopped thinking about it since,” he asserts with a fond smile. “Any Bucky would be lucky to have you, and I’m sorry yours has been too chicken to make a move.”

“I guess it’s not totally his fault,” you relent with a meager shrug. “I’m chicken, too.”

“You shouldn’t be,” Bucky suggests, tone light and inviting. “I know I’m not the most obvious about it, but I love you too.”

You open your mouth to answer only to be interrupted by the sound of the sliding door again. You turn to see Steve standing there, surprise on his features when he sees you two sitting on the balcony together.

“Y/n, I’ve been looking for you,” he says suddenly. “I wanted to talk to you about the variants-“

“Don’t worry,” you interrupt him with a passive wave of your hand before gesturing towards Bucky with your head. “I found another one for you. This Bucky just told me he loves me which means he’s definitely not ours.”

“Actually,” Steve says with an amused grin, “I was just coming to tell you we sent the last of them back to their own dimensions.”

“What?” You gape in shock, heart immediately dropping to your stomach as you slowly shift your gaze towards the Bucky sitting next to you. He flashes you a bashful smile and a small wave that fills you with embarrassment.

“I’ll give you two a moment,” the blond says with a knowing smile before making his exit, leaving you alone once more with the man you’d just poured your entire heart out to.

“I thought you knew,” Bucky offers apologetically. You take a nervous swallow before forcing yourself to meet his gaze again.

“So you’re saying that you do love me?” You ask hesitantly, almost afraid that this is all some sort of joke.

“I may not be as romantic or straightforward as the other Bucky’s you met, but I love you just as much as they do if not more,” he professes earnestly, gently resting a hand on your cheek to pull you closer. “I think we make a great team, but we’d make an even better couple.”

“I think so too,” you utter with a giddy smile, waiting with bated breath as Bucky slowly begins to lean in. The anticipation is killing you, but you’re finally rewarded for your patience when his lips meet your own in a tender kiss. Your lashes flutter shut as you melt into his touch, reveling in the moment you’ve dreamed of since discovering your feelings for Bucky.

No matter the timeline and no matter the universe, Bucky is destined to fall in love with his y/n. And you wouldn’t want it any other way.

#mel writes #request #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #winter soldier #marvel #mcu #mcu x reader #mcu imagine

1K notes · View notes

bxnfire · 1 month ago

Text

Stereo Love

Synopsis: You’re determined to get over Suguru, and Suguru’s determined to never let you. Amongst annual vacations, unresolved tension, and one hell of a view, what could go wrong? Come to Mykonos and find out!

Content/Warnings: MDNI! Smut, p in v, fingering, cunnilingus, blowjob, handjobs, public nudity, m! masturbation, edging, teasing, friends-to-lovers, yearning, soo much tension, mutual pining, fluff, slight angst, vacation, Shoko and Gojo betting on your future.

Wc: 9k

A/N: The images are from pinterest. I can’t take credit for them. Divider creds go to @bronzewasp. Check out other amazing works and the place that inspired me to make this fic here at @lily-bisque’s summer bash collab!

Suguru is many things. A tattoo artist, a music lover, a sweet talker, a witty man, a softie at heart, and for the longest time, perhaps since he drew your favorite flower after your crush rejected you to lift your spirits up back in high school, or was it in middle school when he got your favorite snack after you completely bombed a test? You’ve had the stupidest crush on him. You've loved him for so long, all the memories have become a blur, you can no longer remember when he did what, but what you do remember is that even at the ripe age of 13 Suguru has known how to sweep you off your feet.

Maybe that’s why no one else has ever stood a chance.

You’ve tried. God, have you tried. But every relationship since him has been doomed before it began. They all paled in comparison: too soft, too cocky, too dull. Too not Suguru. And maybe they knew it. Maybe they all saw the look in your eyes when his name popped up on your phone or heard the way your voice changed when you talked about him.

You’ve told yourself you’d get over him. You meant it, too. But then he sends you one of those effortless selfies, or calls you just to hear your voice, or keeps his promise to go on vacation with you every year. And suddenly, all that resolve evaporates like mist off the ocean.

What you don’t realize is that Suguru’s just as far gone as you, maybe worse.

It's stupid really, he has no clue as to why you haven't realized that he has so many memory cards for his digital camera purely because he cannot bring himself to delete anything where you're in. There's so many photos and videos of you just being silly, one of you sleeping on his couch, another of you running away from Satoru after he realized you stole his mochi, even one of you petting a cat on the street.

Unbeknownst to you, you inspire the tattoos he's become so known for, which is quite funny because Suguru fears one day you'll have the bright idea of visiting his shop, he wouldn't know what to do if you noticed your favorite flower on different styles on the walls, your birthday on roman numerals, samples of fonts which say your name, middle name, and/or last name, and in a hidden crook of his studio, your eyes.

It sucks having to miss you so much, since you only see each other once a year, but on the bright side, you also don't get to see the fool you've made of him.

Since college, you knew you'd be apart from each other most of your time, as Suguru pursued his dream of owning his own shop in Tokyo whereas your aspirations took you somewhere else. You both have always been very supportive of each other, but at the same time, you're so stuck on each other that you made a pact to go on vacation for 2 weeks every year, taking turns on choosing the spot, and this year it was Suguru's turn to choose.

📩 Suguuu <3: have you checked your email yet songbird?

📩 my muse: SUGURU SHUT THE FUCK UP

📩 my muse: YOU DID NOT

📩 my muse: MYKONOS?

📩 Suguuu <3: surprise surprise

He marks the days like a countdown, two weeks where he gets to have you close, but never close enough. Where he watches you fall in love with the world and aches knowing you’ll never look at him the same way. It’s his favorite part of the year, and also the hardest. Because no matter how far you go together, he always ends up right where he started: still loving you, still silent, and still too much of a coward to ruin what you've built for so long.

You step off the plane, the salty Mykonos breeze kissing your cheeks, and it hits you: this is going to be dangerous. Not because of the cliffs or the scooters or the cocktails you’ve already mentally committed to drinking by the dozen—but because Suguru looks like that in a white button-up and linen pants. He pushes his sunglasses up his nose and smiles at you with that same familiar softness that’s been ruining your dating life since you were 13.

“This place is already ten times better with you in it,” he says casually, grabbing your suitcase like it’s second nature.

You don’t respond. You can’t. Your brain has momentarily stopped functioning.

Choosing to just giggle as a response to avoid any awkward, mumbled response, you pick up your phone to double-check the address of the hotel you had chosen. It took a while, but you reached an agreement with Suguru: if he paid for the tickets, you would pay for the stay.

Since he had gone all out with the location as was, you decided to level the playing field by choosing a suite with a private pool, big ass beds, and the most beautiful view of the beach.

“Songbird, you sure this is our room?” Suguru asks, curious, but also excited?

“‘Course Sugu, why wouldn’t it be?” You ask oblivious to what he was looking at, too busy contemplating at the pool.

“Well, there’s just one bed, it’s huge, but one bed nonetheless,” he says, his lips curving in a dangerous smile.

“Oh.”

“Oh sounds right.” He chuckled, looking at your mortified expression.

“No wonder the lady who checked us in kept treating us like a couple, and you didn’t even correct her!” You realize, jokingly putting the blame on him.

“Would you have wanted me to?” He asks, his purple hues locking your own.

You didn’t have it in you to respond directly, and the loud beating of your heart wouldn’t have let your mind come up with a good answer anyway, so you just opted for saying, “I could sleep in the hammock?”

“Fuck no.”

“So then?”

“If anyone’s sleeping on a hammock it’s me,” he says in a tone that suggests he won’t be swayed otherwise. “But I was thinking of just sharing the bed instead? It’s big enough, you’d probably need an Uber to get to the other side anyway.”

“Okay dummie,” you giggle, “pillow fort it is.”

“Don’t think you could stay away from me in your sleep? You flatter me,” he teased.

“I really couldn’t, you’re just so humble and handsome,” you play along, trying your damned best to ignore the heat in your cheeks.

“If only you truly meant that,” he mumbled.

“What’d you say?” You ask, not having heard him right.

“That you better not snore, songbird.”

“YOU better not snore,” you replied giggling.

“And if I do?” He asks.

“Then I’d have to do this,” you say, and he stands there clueless as to why you’re moving around in silence. Poor Suguru only remembered you were having this conversation by the pool after you had pushed him in, clothes and all.

As he resurged from the water, he just looks at you and smirks, his snake-bites shining in the bright afternoon. You knew he was up to no good, but you sort of felt guilty for pushing him in, so when he extends his hand towards you, you don’t hesitate to take it. Should’ve known you’d be drenched the next second.

As you swim back to the surface, you’re startled to find Suguru so close to you. It should’ve been obvious; he pulled you in, so of course you’d be close. You’ve been pining for this man for years on end, and every year you tell yourself it’s going to be the last, but when he pulls shit like this it’s easy to forget your top new year’s resolution for the past 12 years: to get over Suguru. But he doesn’t help! It’s not easy to get over your best friend if he’s your dream man incarnated, specially when he looks so fucking good with wet hair and a look of mischief in his eyes, with his lips merely an inch away from yours.

He noticed you staring, and it was driving him insane. It took every bit of his (very strong mind you) resolve to not kiss you right there and then and potentially ruin a friendship of over a decade. So, to stop it from going further he just splashed water at your face and started a water fight. He had hoped he’d be able to contain his feelings until the right time, but seeing as he gets worked up so easily even if you’re not trying to seduce him lets him know it’ll be harder than he thought.

About 2 hours later you both finally stopped trying to get back at each other and decided to go out for dinner. You took an awful long shower, which gave Suguru time to rent a bike for your stay, as he remembered how much you loved to ride it with him back when you were in college.

“Songbird! You done in there or are you trying to pluck all your feathers?” He called out teasingly, he knew how much you hated to be rushed, and he had a dirty little liking for working you up.

“Gentle reminder that I’m not a man and can’t serve without proper preparation,” you yelled back, going back to retouching your makeup.

“I’m not even going to comment on that,” he responds, realizing that you truly didn’t know how beautiful he found you, no makeup or prep at all. He’d love to argue with you about it, but admitting to stroking his fat cock for 2 hours straight after he’d seen you with the tiniest shorts and a sweatshirt (one you stole from him by the way) ready to go to bed a year ago wasn’t probably the best argument. But you couldn’t blame him right? After walking around Berlin he was physically and mentally exhausted, so he couldn’t really think better than to just imagine how nice it would be to get to see you like that every time as you walked to your shared bed before he could rearrange your guts goodnight, it’d make you both sleep better!

He was ready to go down that rabbit hole of a memory, but you snapped him away from his thoughts as you finally walked out of the bathroom with the prettiest dress he’s ever seen. Maybe that’s a vague description of your clothes, but you made everything look fucking great, he started to think you’d even look good with a trash bag.

“Staring much?” You ask, basking in his attention and quiet praise.

“I have every right to have a staring problem too you know,” he replies, referring to your little mishap at the pool.

“Oh shut up.”

He chuckles, and for the pure sake of annoying you, he texts you what he was going to say.

📩 Suguuu <3: come outside

“You do realize I’m right next to you right?”

📩 Suguuu <3: you told me to shut up

📩 Suguuu <3: who am i to say no to you?

“You’re so dumb,” you say as you hurry outside, trying your best to hide your blush from him.

You hear him laugh behind you, and you’re about to keep fighting him when you see a red Kawasaki Ninja, and all of your college memories flooded. You couldn’t conceal your smile as it all came back to you, and he takes this chance to speak up.

“You liking our sweet ride for these next 2 weeks?”

“This is fucking amazing Suguru, thank you,” you say as you look at him with the sweetest smile, and you’ve made him melt once again for this evening.

“Let’s get going then, Mykonos awaits!” And with that, you two go into the night looking for trouble, which in itself was scary to think about because it surely felt dangerous to be on this ride with Suguru, and not because he likes to speed, but because being this close to him, getting to wrap your arms around him and press your head on his shoulder, trying your damned best not to succumb to the intoxicating smell of his, made you wish you were riding him instead.

Unluckily for him, you've failed to notice the raging hard-on he sports every night you've gone out for a ride, he chalks it up to his ability to choose bottoms that make it easier to hide, but it really is just the mere fact that you both end up so flustered after those that you don't look at each other much past stolen glances the first couple of minutes, which gives Suguru the perfect chance to run straight to the bathroom to... decompress!

It’s been 1 week in Mykonos and you’ve both fucking loved it. Apart from all those times you’ve come awfully close to kissing or confessing, and ignoring all the damn tension, it’s been great. You spend your days strolling through markets or landmarks, then come back to the suite to hop in the pool and the end the day by clubbing somewhere, it is Mykonos's whole thing for a reason.

Today was a little different though. You were feeling the impulsivity that could only come from days being away from your reality, being with Suguru, the man that made anything and everything seem possible, and of course, the unspoken agreement of vacation, and even if the saying names Vegas, you're in Mykonos aren't ya?

“We should go to a nude beach today,” you say as you bite your koulouri.

Suguru nearly chokes on his yogurt. “A w-what?” He asks, looking at you with wide eyes.

“A nude beach! Wouldn't it be so liberating? And you know I've always wanted to,” you say with the sweetest smile you can muster, acting as if you wouldn't also be a mess if you saw him naked.

“Well, if there's nothing else you'd rather do,” he gives in, trying to think of what the fuck he'd do if he gets hard, it's already bad always making sure he's up before you to hide his morning wood, but a nude beach? God knows he couldn't even cover it up with both of his hands if he tried.

“Not at all,” you smile as you watch him get up to get ready, “I looove you.”

“Seems like you're trying to kill me,” he says with an honesty you weren't expecting at all.

“How so?” You ask innocently.

“You're gonna be the death of me, remember that.”

Shit, you remember other things too. The other night you two had a little too much wine, and while Suguru is usually suave and calculated when he's sober, when he's drunk you really get to see why him and Satoru are such good friends, it makes you see that they're both fairly unhinged, to put it some way.

Sure, in different ways, but unhinged all the same. At least, that's the best word you could find to describe what it was like to hear from your best friend's pretty lips that he’d eat you alive if you let him.

He said it so casually, so slurred and sweet, like it wasn’t the kind of thing that would replay in your mind every time he looked at you a second too long. Like it wasn’t going to haunt you now, while you’re both about to strip down in public like it’s just another Thursday.

You don’t think he remembers. He laughed right after, laid his head on your lap and started telling you how the stars in Mykonos looked fake, like they were too pretty to be real, just like you. But you remember. You remember everything.

Now, as you stand on a rocky path down to the beach, your sundress fluttering in the breeze and Suguru beside you, trying to act nonchalant while adjusting the strap of his backpack for the fifth time, you feel the tension tighten. Not in a dramatic, movie-scene way—no, it’s worse than that. It’s subtle. Controlled. His silence is louder than any confession.

“I googled it,” you say suddenly, trying to fill the silence. “The beach. Apparently it’s, like, super secluded.”

“Right,” he says, clearing his throat. “Secluded is good. We like secluded.”

You hum in response. “Means no one will see if I trip and fall flat on my ass.”

He chuckles. “But I would see though, that’s more than enough.”

A few minutes later, you reach the sand—white, soft, hot beneath your feet. Suguru sets down your things and stretches, his shirt lifting just enough to expose a sliver of skin and the bottom edge of a tattoo you don’t recognize. Your eyes catch on it a second too long.

“What’s that one?” you ask, pointing to it before you can stop yourself.

He freezes. Then glances down. “Ah. That one’s… new.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Of what?”

He shrugs. “Something that reminds me of you.”

And before you can press further, he takes his shirt of fully and it takes you a moment to register what the fuck you're looking at. As if it wasn't already hard not to stare at his muscular back, slutty waist, and broad shoulders, now you have to deal with looking at all of that and your favorite flower on his lower back.

Yeah, right where your hands are when he lays his head on your lap and wants you to comfort him. And you do so by just hearing him out and caressing his lower back, good to know. Good to know what the tattoo was.

Almost as if he could hear your thoughts, right before that part of his body could be covered up by the water he glanced back at you with a smirk, locking eyes for a second too long. Enough to put you in a trance that didn't even let you realize you had been staring at that damn direction for too fucking long.

“So you dragged me here to just sit by the shore with your clothes on?” He yelled, as he was fairly deep in the water.

“You didn't put up too much of a fight anyway,” you replied.

“Because I thought it would be even humiliation but you're sitting there like a princess while I'm completely naked.”

Before you could even process what you were doing, you took your shirt off, and put up a fucking show for him, it was only fair right? If he had you blushing every other sentence, you could fluster him by letting him see what he's allegedly been wanting to eat.

And fuck, you just made him hungrier after that.

You managed to swim and put the tension behind a barrier, even if it was fragile, and you two found a cove not too far from where your things were at.

The cove is half-shaded, half-glowing with the soft shimmer of the Aegean sun. The rocks cradle the space like it was made just for two idiots in denial, and the water here is calmer, like it knows something’s about to happen.

You float lazily beside him, your arms brushing every so often under the surface. If you didn’t know better, you’d think the ocean was trying to make you touch him on purpose.

“You're quiet,” Suguru says, voice low and a little breathless from the swim.

You shrug. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

“That tattoo,” you say without looking at him, even though you can feel him looking at you.

He hums. “Knew you’d notice.”

You flick water at him. “You put it where my hands always are. Kind of hard not to.”

There’s a beat of silence, the kind that fills your lungs heavier than the sea.

“I put it there because that’s where you always are,” he says, so casually you almost miss it.

You blink, heart stuttering. “What?”

But he doesn’t answer. He swims a little closer, hands finding the edge of the rock behind you, his body suddenly close enough to cage you in without touching.

“Can I tell you something?” he murmurs, voice low, unreadable.

You nod.

“I lied the other night. When I said you were gonna be the death of me.”

Your breath hitches. “Oh?”

“I meant to say you already are.”

You can’t decide what happens first, your pulse skyrocketing, your stomach dropping, or the burning desire to kiss him so hard you forget every reason you told yourself you couldn’t.

But his lips are right there, and you’re both naked, half-drenched, and you’re fully ruined for anyone else—and you’re starting to think he might be too.

You swallow hard, not from nerves, but because it’s suddenly too quiet. The air shifts, the world narrows. His hands are still braced behind you, his body close enough that you feel the heat of him through the water, your knees occasionally brushing under the surface, sending jolts straight to your core.

“You can’t just say shit like that,” you whisper, trying to sound unaffected and missing the mark completely.

“Why not?” he murmurs, his eyes searching yours like he’s looking for the line between brave and stupid, safe and honest.

“Because,” you say, voice a little shaky now. “Because I don’t know what you mean.”

He lets out a soft laugh. “Yeah, you do.”

You try to look away, but his voice drags your gaze back.

“I meant it, y’know,” he says. “The tattoo. The flower.”

“Suguru—”

He leans in just slightly, not close enough to touch, but close enough that your heart forgets how to beat properly.

“Every time you touch me there, it grounds me,” he admits, quieter now. “Even when I’m barely holding it together. Even when I want things I shouldn’t.”

Your breath catches. “Things like?”

He doesn’t say it. Instead, he lets the moment stretch.

The sun catches on the water between you. He looks devastating like this—dripping, golden, pupils blown just a little too wide to blame on the sunlight.

But then, as if he senses you need an escape route, he gives you a smirk, tipping his head back and letting the tension almost break.

“You still owe me for dragging me out here alone,” he says, voice back to playful, but his eyes? Still fixed, still dark, still hungry.

“Oh?” you manage, breathless. “And what exactly do I owe you?”

He shrugs, but it’s mocking. “Dunno yet. But I’m sure I’ll think of something by tonight.”

And with that, he pushes off the rock and swims a few feet away, leaving you stewing in the heat he left behind, mouth slightly parted, heart absolutely wrecked.

Coming back to the suite was something else. Sure, it was already bad having to share a bed with the man you've loved for so long, but today was just rough. Your glances seemed to last a little longer, if you walk past each other you're so awfully aware of your skin touching, so much so it feels electric.

For his “get back” he ended up taking you to a club, but this time he had laid out an outfit for you to put on: a cute little purple dress along with some silver heels.

“Suguru what the hell are you planning on doing?” You ask, trying to suppress your giddiness.

“Clubbing,” he says walking into your shared room with his fit on, and to your surprise he was wearing a button-down shirt matching your dress, alongside silver accessories to match your shoes.

He loves watching you dance, you look so happy and carefree, but he'd also be lying if he said that was all there was to it. He loved seeing you flaunt your curves without a care in the world, and even if he knows better than that, he likes to imagine that you're putting up a show just for him. So, why not let the Greeks think that you were his and only his?

“And is there a reason to be matching?” You ask.

“Yeah, it'll be easier to find each other if we're wearing the same color,” he says just to instantly realize how stupid that sounded.

“Like we're on a summer camp?” You giggle.

“Yeah. A summer camp, but now we won't have to give up or phones or try to hide the booze,” he chuckles.

So, you're off to the club. It's not the first time you're clubbing in this trip, but tonight is just different. After learning about his tattoo earlier and being the closest you've ever been to actually kissing him the tension is through the roof, and you'd think a club would be stimulating enough to let your mind focus somewhere else, but something about those colored flashing lights, his easy smile and his luscious hair going everywhere along his moves gave you goosebumps. It surely didn't help that now he was using every excuse to flaunt the tattoo he'd done an amazing job of hiding up until earlier.

The club is alive. Bass thrumming through your chest, lights flashing pink and violet like they’re syncing with your heartbeat. You’ve danced before, plenty of times. But never like this. Never with his eyes on you like this.

You weren’t expecting them to play it — the familiar swirl of ikaeotiotiko rising like smoke through the haze of the night. The DJ must’ve been Greek. Or brave. Either way, the mood shifts, the crowd parting slightly as people start forming loose circles, clapping into the rhythm, shoes sliding against the floor with practiced ease.

You’re mid-laugh when Suguru’s hand slides around your waist.

“Thought you didn’t dance,” you tease, breathless.

“I don’t,” he says, but he doesn’t let go.

The circle opens around you, and somehow you’re pulled in, your hands brushing against others, your body keeping time with the rising tempo. You spin once, then again, feet moving instinctively. The music builds. Quick.

You feel him again before you see him. Suguru at your back, steady and grounded while the world moves in rhythm around you. He doesn't grab you outright, but his hand returns to your waist like muscle memory.

When someone reaches out to join hands with you again, he steps closer.

“She’s with me,” Suguru says. Casual. Almost bored.

But you know better. His voice is strained honey, the smoothness so fake you know it's just trying to feign calm. His fingers tighten at your side, not enough to hurt, but enough to speak volumes.

You move faster. The music demands it. The steps get looser, sweat slicking your skin, your dress hitching a little higher with every spin. You’re glowing with it, the dance, the music, the heat — and you lean back into him, letting your hips graze his.

Suguru doesn’t back away. If anything, he braces you.

“You’re playing with fire,” he murmurs into your ear, the beat thrumming through your chests as one. His mouth is so close to your skin, it feels like a kiss.

You smile without looking at him. “Maybe I like the burn.”

The music’s lifting now — that final run, that fast-breath, foot-stomping energy unique to ikaeotiotiko — and you let go. Let your body trust the rhythm. Let yourself press flush against him as the circle breaks into wild joy. But Suguru? He stays still behind you, like stone, like an anchor, his hand sliding lower now.

“Careful,” he breathes, “If you keep dancing like that, I’ll forget where we are.”

“Then maybe you should.”

That pause, thick with want, thick with years of unsaid things, lingers between you longer than the last note of the song. Even as the music fades and the next track bleeds in, he stays molded to your back. Possessive. Unmoving. Burned in.

You turn your head just enough to glance at him. “Possessive much?”

“Can you blame me?” he says, and it’s so honest, so fast, it makes your pulse skip.

The DJ switches to something darker, deeper. The kind of song that slows the room down and pulls bodies closer. Your hands find his shoulders, his settle on your hips. It’s instinct now.

You shouldn’t be doing this. But you also should’ve stopped a long time ago.

Your noses nearly brush as he leans in like he’s going to say something. But he doesn’t. His gaze flicks down to your lips, then back up.

You can’t breathe.

“Say something,” you whisper, voice almost drowned out by the music.

He swallows hard. “I’m trying really fucking hard not to ruin everything right now.”

The way he says it, so raw and vulnerable, sends your heart crashing into your ribs. You want to ask why not ruin it? what if it’s already ruined? what if we’ve been lying to ourselves this whole damn time? But you’re trying to see if he'll cave in, but unfortunately your patience is dangerously close to boiling over.

So you smile instead. Force a little laugh. “You think dancing with me is going to ruin everything?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head slightly. “Wanting more will.”

At this point you're fucking fed up, the tattoo, the side comments, and now to top it off the fucking possessiveness. Your heart couldn't handle that much.

“Stop playing with me. You keep talking so sweetly to me and I know you're a sweet person but this has gotten so out of hand. You keep saying I'm the death of you, that I calm you in ways no one does, and you just rile me up so fucking much. It hurts Suguru, to have wanted to for so long and to keep wanting you and all you do is play around. Honestly I've kept quiet for the sake of our friendship, but it costs me too fucking much, and I can't take it anymore,” you confess, tears threatening to spill over.

Before you could think logically, you let your pride take over and ran out into the rain because it seemed like a better option than to let the man who's controlled your feelings for so long watch you cry over him.

Your inner turmoil doesn't let you realize that he was chasing you the whole way.

“Y/n wait! Fuck, come here,” he says out of breath.

“Haven't you had enough this past decade? What else do you want from me?!” You ask, looking at him through your tears.

“You didn't let me reply,” he says so easily, as if he wasn't holding you as you broke down, as if you both weren't getting completely drenched by the rain. “I have always loved you. Insanely so. You've always plagued my every thought, been the muse to all the art I've made, the force behind every one of my efforts, my partner in crime, my favorite voice to wake up to, the last person I want to see before I fall asleep.”

His hands cup your face like you might slip away if he doesn’t hold on tight enough, but his touch is gentle. Careful. Like he knows how badly you’ve been hurting and hates himself for being part of it.

“I never said anything because I didn’t want to lose you. Not to distance, not to time, not to something I said too early or too late. I’ve had so many chances, and I ruined every one of them by keeping my mouth shut.”

You’re crying harder now, but you’re not backing away. You're just there, in his hands, trying to catch your breath as his confession keeps unraveling.

“I wanted to say something a hundred times on this trip. I almost kissed you on the bike, when you leaned into me and I forgot how to think. And again on the beach. And at the cove. And right now, I am so close to doing it I can’t even breathe.”

You blink up at him through the rain. “Then do it.”

Suguru pauses just long enough to make sure you mean it, his thumbs brushing your cheeks.

“Please,” you whisper.

And he kisses you like he’s been waiting to. Not careful anymore, not calculated. Just full of every second, every day, every year he’s spent loving you in silence. You melt into him, fingers curling in his shirt, finally holding him like you’ve dreamed of doing a thousand times.

When you part, both of you breathless, soaked, and shaking with adrenaline, he rests his forehead against yours.

“No more waiting,” he murmurs. “I’m yours, okay? I’ve always been yours. I've even got a mark of it.”

You laugh softly. “About time, idiot.”

He grins. “I’ll take that.”

Needless to say, you don't take too long to get on going to the suite. It should've been a quicker trip, but with Suguru slamming you into walls every 5 minutes and kissing you like a man starved it made a 10min walk into a 40min one, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't play into every bit of it.

By the time you make it into your room, your skin is on fire, not even the droplets of water clinging to it can do anything to calm the burning sensation down. It makes you act as though coming in contact with his skin with every inch of yours might ease it, but it only makes it worse.

Suguru’s not holding up any better. Years of longing are pouring out through his lips, tongue, hands, cock, everywhere. He’s all over you, kissing your neck as struggles not to whimper, hands busy trying to take your drenched clothes off as he doesn’t let you an inch away from him while he guides you towards the bed.

“So have you thought about it?” He asks, his lips one inch away from yours as he holds both of your arms above you with just one hand.

“Suguru I haven’t thought of anything that wasn’t you since we got off the plane,” you reply breathlessly.

“I’m talking about my offer, or should I say request?”

“And what would that be?” You reply smiling, kissing his neck, feeling it vibrate as he chuckles.

“That I’d eat you if you’d let me,” he says, eyes now fully locked on yours.

“YOU REMEMBER THAT?” You ask startled, fully convinced you were the only one who kept that night alive through your memory.

“I remember everything songbird, so well that I don’t recall there being an answer.” He pauses just to look at you, and as he inches close enough where you can feel his breath on your lips he speaks up again. “So, can I?”

You don’t feel like replying verbally, so you opted for smashing your lips into his. Kissing him felt so right, far above the feeling you got from anyone else even fucking you. This kiss alone made you wish he took all of your firsts, and with how nervous he’s making you, it almost feels like you’re a virgin again. Close enough right?

He understood perfectly. His hands started going south, roaming through your abdomen and navel, getting a feel of all the skin he’s only ever allowed himself to look at. As he tries to stop his mind from going overdrive so he can please you the way he’s always dreamed of, he places wet kisses from your neck to your collarbone, sneaking in some bites and hickeys to pave down his newfound territory.

“F-fuck Suguru,” you moan, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“That’s it songbird, don’t hold back. You’ve starved me long enough,” he says as he finally reaches your breasts. He takes one into his mouth, outlining your sensitive nub, as he moves one of his hands towards your other breast, taking your nipple between his thumb and index finger, rotating it back and forth, the pressure and friction taking your soul out your body.

You feel yourself grinding into him, and he’s so big. So damn big, it’s obscene to even look at the tent in his pants, and you’re insatiable. You’re grinding on his drenched boxers, whether there was more moisture from your own dripping cunt or the pouring rain you didn’t know, but it doesn’t matter because either way it makes the fabric cling to him so deliciously, and it made your back and forth motion so much better.

Every roll of your hips sends a jolt through him, his grip tightening on your waist like he’s afraid you’ll vanish. You hear his breath catch, low and sharp, just before he mutters something guttural against your skin — something you can’t even catch, but it makes your thighs tremble.

Somehow, he gets harder, and you feel his cock pulsate through the thin layer of cloth between you. You whimper loud, and he takes that as encouragement to keep roaming further. His hand finds its way to your wet cunt and starts taping it, quick enough to make you ache for him but not hard enough to ease your want.

“Are you really fucking teasing me after making me wait years for this moment?” You manage to get out, so overwhelmed by your physical state and emotions.

“If anything you kept me waiting this long, and for that fact alone I should be given a reward don’t you think? I want it to last forever,” he breathed out before circling your entrance, toying with your dripping pussy as you arched your back for him.

“S-sugu,” you moaned, desperate for more.

Your plea — that broken little whisper of his name — makes something primal flash in his eyes. Suguru’s jaw flexes, and his breath stutters against your neck as he finally presses two fingers against your folds, sliding them through the mess you’ve made of yourself. He’s slow, deliberate, like he’s savoring every second of having you this way: spread out, soaking, and absolutely wrecked just from the friction and his mouth.

“You’ve got no idea how many times I’ve thought about this,” he growls, voice ragged. “You, desperate like this… begging me. Needing me.”

You can’t think. Can’t speak. Every nerve ending in your body is screaming for more, but he’s still just barely touching you, the pads of his fingers brushing your entrance, teasing you open but never pushing in. He knows exactly what he’s doing. It’s cruel.

“Then stop thinking,” you gasp, hips rocking up into his hand. “Just do it.”

He chuckles, low and dangerous. “So bossy when you’re this fucked out.”

And just when you’re about to snap — right on the verge of clawing at his shoulders and dragging him under you — he finally slides his fingers inside, slow and deep. It steals the air from your lungs, and your body tightens around him like he belongs there, like you’ve been waiting your whole life for this.

“I told you I’d make it worth the wait,” he whispers, his lips brushing your ear as he curls his fingers just right. “Now be a good girl and take it.”

Even if it's just 2 fingers it takes you to a whole other world. Suguru has always had a sixth sense for what you need and desire, and it doesn't surprise you that it translated over to bed. It takes him less than 30 seconds to find your sweet spot, and once he realized it he abuses it so deliciously.

"K-keep going Suguru," you breathe.

"That's my girl," he says as he keeps working you up. He loves to be in control, and he does it almost well enough that he's rutting into the bed, trying to find the friction you were giving him earlier in the mattress, and he thinks you wouldn't notice... but you did.

You don't know where you find the strength, but you manage to flip you guys over so you're on top of him now, and you're feeling like returning the favor. So before he can even guess what you're about to do, you take the hand he was just fingering you with and suck your slick off his fingers, then you take your tongue out and start dragging it from his chest all the way down to his waist without taking your eyes away from his, as he watches you hungrily through lidded eyes.

You waste no time in putting your hands to work, so fucking slowly. You drag your fingertips down his torso like you’re tracing a path you already know by heart — over the hard planes of his stomach, the twitch of his hips when you get too close, then back up just to hear the frustration in his breath.

“You’re really gonna tease me now?” he mutters.

You don’t answer, just smirk, letting your lips follow the trail your tongue blazed moments ago. Every inch of him tastes like salt and rain and something only he could ever smell like, so familiar and addictive.

When you finally reach the waistband of his boxers, you pause. Just enough to make him twitch. Just enough to watch the way his jaw tightens.

You glance up at him through your lashes. “If I kept you waiting all this time, don’t you think I should take my time making it up to you?”

He lets out a strangled groan, and his hand flies up like he’s going to grab something, but then he stops himself. Lets you stay in control.

That alone makes you ache.

You press a kiss right below his navel, slow and intentional. Then you hook your fingers into the waistband and drag it down, inch by agonizing inch, until he’s fully exposed and twitching against his stomach.

“Fuck,” he hisses, voice cracking as you wrap your fingers around the base of him, your thumb brushing the bead of precum at the tip.

You lean in, mouth barely grazing him, breath hot and teasing. “I want to see how much you can take before you lose it.”

"You're signing up for a long night then Songbird," he says, not even bothering trying to conceal how worked up he is.

Your adrenaline is going overdrive, and even as you’re trying your damned best to get it together to put on one hell of a show, your resolve is crumbling quicker than you’d like it to. You’re toying with his cock so painfully, licking his tip as you stroke him with one hand and cup his balls with the other, allowing yourself to revel on how hot, moist his dick is, and above all, how delicious his veins feel on your palm alone. If it was intoxicating here how bad was it going to be when he was actually inside you?

“S-shit,” he pants, giving in to the pleasure.

You wanted to keep him waiting, but his honeyed voice sounded so pretty breaking down for you, you decided you’d give him a reward! Instead of continuing to tease him, you actually took him in your mouth, and it was a delight to both of you. Feeling him twitch and keep leaking in your mouth made your cunt impossibly wetter, but you tried not to pay that much mind to focus on your task.

Having one hand free now, you opted for using it to caress your favorite flower inked on his back, the gesture making him buck violently into your mouth. You gagged, but that only made him more eager to take you. It truly didn’t take you much to turn your “reward” into further torture, the funniest part is that you didn’t realize it at all.

“This is g-gonna be so f-fucking embarrassing for me if I l-let you keep going,” he moans out. “Let me t-taste you instead.”

You intended on continuing sucking him off, but he pulled that same stunt you did, so you found yourself on your back once again at his mercy, and the glint in his purple hues told you you were going to get ruined for everyone else, now in a whole different area.

He dove right in your pussy as if you were the only oasis in the desert he had walked on for days. He was nothing short of calculated and intentional, but only Suguru could be those things while at the same time being desperate and so fucking hungry. He was lapping at your cunt as his nose pressed on your clit, the pressure making you cry out in pleasure.

“Suguru! F-fuck, don’t stop,” you moan.

He chuckles and the vibrations go straight to your core.

“Since you’re being so good for me, and taste so fucking delicious, I’ll give you a little gift,” he says, taking his tongue out your cunt just to softly blow on it, making you shiver, then put it around your clit and get his fingers back in it again.

To say you’re moaning would be quite offensive. You were screaming at this point, certain that everyone on the hill could hear Suguru’s name being yelled at the top of your lungs. Even taking all of this into account you were holding it up quite well, his skilled tongue along with his fingers at the same time is no fucking joke, adding on to the fact that your body’s been waiting for this for years.

And in just a moment you start feeling it, that pressure begging to be released pooling inside of you, and he feels it too, he knows he’s driving you to the edge.

“You want to cum pretty?” He asks mockingly, as if it wasn’t tearing him apart as much as it did you.

You nod frantically, unable to form a coherent sentence in the state he’s put you in.

“Shit baby, I can’t hear you. Guess you can wait a little hmm? You’ll get another chance to cum, don’t worry.” The fucker smiled as he said that repositioning himself so that he was centered right at your entrance.

Testing your patience, he started dragging his hard length through your folds back and forth, driving you both insane by feeling your cunt up with just his leaky, pretty red tip, overstimulated beyond belief with such brief touches.

“Always knew you were quite the tease but didn’t know you were a masochist Sugu,” you said impatiently, wondering just what you’d have to do to get him to put it in already.

“You really don’t know me at all, but don’t worry, you will soon enough,” he says, and before you can answer he goes balls deep in only one thrust, making you scream out his name once again at the sudden (but not unwelcome) intrusion.

“You feel so fucking good,” he says breathlessly, locking eyes with you as he locks you in a mating press.

You feel him hit all of your sweet spots without fail, as if he had mapped you out long before he even got to this point, all his thrusts erratic but never unintentional, he was determined to make sure you lost your mind just as much as him.

You can’t breathe, can’t think, the stretch of him inside you is overwhelming — thick, deep, perfect — and all you can do is hold on as he fucks you like he’s trying to brand himself into your cervix.

Your legs are folded tight to your chest, and he’s so deep it feels like he’s rearranging you. Every slam of his hips makes you cry out, makes your body arch against him, and when his fingers find your clit, rubbing tight and fast, and your vision blurs.

“S-Sugu, f-fuck! I-I,” you don’t even know what you’re trying to say. You can’t get it out.

“I know, baby. I know,” he groans, forehead pressed to yours, his pace somehow rougher and sweeter all at once. “Let go for me.”

And it’s all you need.

You shatter.

The orgasm tears through you like lightning, loud and blinding, your whole body trembling as you clutch at his shoulders like he’s the only thing keeping you grounded. And he doesn’t stop; he keeps moving through it, keeps dragging every last drop of pleasure out of you until you’re gasping for air and moaning into his mouth.

“Fuck— you’re squeezing me so tight,” he chokes, hips stuttering now, losing rhythm, chasing his own end.

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down into a kiss, sloppy and desperate, as he finally lets go, burying himself deep with a guttural moan and spilling inside you in thick, pulsing waves.

For a moment, everything’s still. Just the sound of your uneven breaths, the weight of him on you, the rain still faintly tapping against the window outside.

Then he exhales a laugh, soft and wrecked, nuzzling into your neck.

“Guess we made up for lost time, huh?”

You smile, still dazed. “You think that was making up for it?”

His eyes flicker open, dark and gleaming.

“Right. Round two, then.”

And with that, it is safe to say you did not get any sleep that night.

The rays of the sun woke you up, and as your eyes adjusted to the lighting, you took a look at your surroundings, delighted to find you and Sugu’s body tangled up to the point where you couldn’t tell when your body ended and his started. You felt him flutter awake too, looking up at you with the most lovesick smile you’ve seen in all your life.

“You sleep good Songbird?” He asks in his raspy morning voice, sounding so fucking sexy.

“Best sleep I’ve had in years. You?”

“I think I’m doomed,” he confesses, as he grabs a strand of your hair to play with it.

“What do you mean?” You ask, growing concerned.

“I doubt that after tonight there is a way I’ll be able to get any sleep without you by my side,” he declares, so easily, as if he wasn’t accelerating your heartbeat with merely some words.

“You’re so silly,” you giggle, relaxing at his cheesy confession.

“I’m just being honest,” he says, caressing your face. “Can you promise me something?”

“Anything,” you say, feeling how much you mean it.

“Can we please keep this going outside of Mykonos? I know I may have rushed it, but believe me when I say I meant every word I said out in the rain. I don’t want us to be a hook up, just a vacation thing. I genuinely want to wake up like this every day, getting to see your beautiful face and hearing your voice first thing in the morning. It would kill me to have done this and to go back and pretend like you’re not the love of my life and like I haven’t realized it yet,” he says without missing a single beat.

You reach up and place your hand over his, the one still cradling your cheek with such gentleness you know he means every word he just said.

“I don’t want to pretend either,” you whisper, voice barely steady. “I want this… all of it. You.”

The smile that spreads across his face is slow and devastating, the kind of smile that says finally.

“Good,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Then it’s settled. Mykonos was just the start.”

You nod, melting into his chest as he pulls you in tighter, the warmth of his body grounding you even as your heart soars.

And as the Aegean sunlight filters through the curtains and the sea murmurs softly outside, you fall asleep once again wrapped in his arms — no longer wondering what comes next, but knowing that whatever it is, you’ll be in it together.

Meanwhile, somewhere in Tokyo there are two close friends of yours arguing, which isn't surprising, but to think that it was about the two of you made it hilarious.

“Shoko I'm telling you, I know Suguru better than anyone, that fucker will keep pining after her like a lovesick ghost. You said the same thing about their trip to Berlin last year, why do you think this one would be any different?” Satoru asks, getting into yet another bet he fully expects to win.

“Because I just feel it, nothing screams more romance than a getaway at Mykonos of all places. Besides, this is the first trip where they've only had one bed to sleep in,” she explains, believing more and more in her conclusions as she gets the words out.

“Not buying it. It would take a life or death situation for him to cave in,” he says stubbornly. “But since you're so certain, it wouldn't hurt to bet on it, right?”

“You have no problem in reminding how little you care about your money huh?” She says, more than willing to give in once again, her pride taking over her better judgement.

“Just recognizing an opportunity when I see it,” he shrugs.

“Fine, ¥14,450 they'll come back a couple.”

“You're so on Shoko,” he says, grinning as they shake hands.

Needless to say, after you two came back and had diner with those two to update them on all, Satoru not only lost his ¥14,450, but also his pride, especially when Suguru kissed you right in front of them like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Shoko sipped her drink smugly. “Told you. Mykonos equals love.”

Satoru groaned dramatically, slumping back in his chair. “Unbelievable. All it took was Mediterranean air and a single bed? You folded faster than Go Fish.”

Suguru just smirked, arm lazily draped around your shoulders. “You won't understand me until you're in my spot, Satoru.”

“You shut your traitor mouth,” Satoru muttered, pushing his plate away like the betrayal had ruined his appetite.

“You’re just mad because you lost,” you grinned.

“I’m mad because now I owe her money and I know she'll spend it on some wine she won't even share,” he said, gesturing to Shoko, who just raised her glass in victory.

“Correct,” she said. “And it’ll be imported.”

The night ended with Satoru dramatically Venmoing Shoko under the transaction label “This won't happen again.”

And you? You leaned against Suguru’s shoulder, already planning the next trip — two tickets, one bed, and no intentions of ever holding back.

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