Yandere! Yakuza x Reader (IV)
Happy Holidays! Remember your plans to visit friends and family back in your home country? Scratch that. The Yakuza men have other ideas for you in this cozy Christmas special. And you finally get to meet their fearsome Boss, who has a request for you.
[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]
You stare at your phone in disbelief, rereading each line and hoping you've misunderstood the kanji. Daitou and Kazuya are quietly frowning behind you, unsure how to help in such a situation. Their lack of response only confirms it.
The brief paragraph is written in bold, red font: Due to weather conditions, all flights are cancelled until further notice. Passengers have been refunded and will need to repurchase their tickets at first convenience.
One glimpse at the last-minute prices and you're certain of it: you won't be going home for Christmas. You slouch and sigh, somewhat at peace with the idea. What else can you do? You might as well get yourself a KFC bucket and stare at the holiday lights in the city center. You and the couples taking cheesy Christmas selfies, who will later wonder about the gloomy loner behind them philosophically crunching on spicy wings.
"Don't look so defeated, (Y/N). You can just spend that time with us instead. We're not such terrible company, are we?" Kazuya jokes, trying to cheer you up.
"We could even go on a trip around New Year."
Your eyes light up in anticipation, the sadness vanishing almost instantly.
"Can we go to one of those hot spring inns? I've always wanted to visit an onsen." You put your hands together pleadingly.
"Whoa! Take me out to dinner first if you're that eager to see me naked." The blonde man winks at you smugly.
"How would I see you naked? The baths are separated, aren't they?" You inquire.
"We can't go to the regular ones." Daitou pulls his collar slightly downwards, revealing a fragment of his traditional tattoos. True. A yakuza would never be allowed among the civilians. "We'd have to book a private bath, so there wouldn't be anyone else."
You blush at the prospect of being alone with the two men. Kazuya notices your nervousness and is about to continue his teasing, but Daitou speaks before him, unbothered and oblivious:
"Besides, you've already seen me naked. I can tell you Kazuya doesn't look much different. There's nothing to be shy about."
The blonde man can only gawk, taken aback, and you shove Daitou in a flustered panic, fumbling to find an excuse or a change of subject.
He didn't have to make your business public like that, or he could've at least announced it without you being present. Judging by the blonde's speechless reaction, you're guessing he hasn't been told about your sneaky office smooching that led to the occasional sleepover. If you think about it, there's nothing shameful about being intimate with your boyfriend, but...It's not something you're fully accustomed to yet.
As promised, after the coworker incident you were soon greeted with a job offer in the neighborhood. When you went to your old office to discuss the mandatory year contract, the managers nervously handed you an approval for resignation and refused to discuss any details. You were free to go, no penalty or obligation. They had a fearful demeanor and you hoped Daitou didn't dismember anyone involved. Regardless of his means, you were now at the liberty to pursue other careers.
On the other hand, you were rather anxious about your new workplace. You had flashing visions of drug cartels and gambling parlors, with thugs rattling their drinks at you and demanding proper service. Windows breaking and masked men rolling onto the floor, armed to the brim. Ginza hostesses scurrying behind you and asking for help against an angered client. The night before your first day, you restlessly shuffled in your bed, plagued by second thoughts. What could you possibly do for the yakuza? What ghoulish demands would they prepare for you?
Daitou was the one to accompany you in the morning. He showed you to your desk, and you could discern the blurred frames of people angrily discussing matters in the opposing meeting room, separated by a large window. You gulped.
"They're building a new apartment complex two streets down." Your boyfriend mentioned casually, helping you settle with your belongings.
"Huh?"
"Oh, sorry, I thought you were curious about their talk."
"I mean, I am, but...Is that it?" You gazed at him incredulously.
"What else? This is a real estate office. Upstairs is the stock investments."
"Oh...Oh...I thought..." You were a little embarrassed. The imaginary scenarios of bloody battles and crimes that kept you awake felt quite ridiculous now.
Daitou seemed to have picked up on your assumptions, because he chuckled and ruffled your hair, following with an explanation.
"Boss is very strict with our Ninkyo-Do. If you're caught with drugs or petty theft, you're excommunicated. We used to have a bunch of gambling casinos as main income, but nowadays there's too much pressure from the police, ya know? Half of our members aren't even officially registered with the Yakuza, so they can't be tracked. We mostly do stocks and real estate. That's where the cash is.
Heh. Kinda boring, ain't it? I'm afraid you showed up way after the golden times. Even I'm too young for it. If ya want, I can ask one of the retired seniors to tell you about it. He has a lot of great stories."
You held your tongue from bringing up his frequent killing sprees and just nodded, amused by the fact that his code of conduct didn't register human casualties as wrong. The Yakuza have strict rules of ethics that set them apart from regular mafia. Depending on the Oyabun, or Head of the Family, this chivalrous way of living is reinforced to all members or conveniently swept under the rug. Daitou's Boss seemed to fit in the former category.
Therefore your "office job" turned out to be an actual office job without the quotes. Although you were often reminded the people passing by weren't your regular salarymen. Many of them were entirely transparent with you, striking up conversations about their latest arrest, or complaining about the poor quality of their pinky finger prosthetic they'd ordered from the Philippines.
But this isn't the time to reminisce. The prolonged silence is unbearable and one could fry eggs on your hot, burning cheeks. Kazuya is the one to break the awkwardness.
"Oh, yeah...You coming to the Christmas thing this evening?"
"We'll be there." Daitou smiles innocently, unaware of the discomfort he just caused.
Kazuya raises his eyebrows in surprise and looks at you.
"Did you...?"
"Yup. It's all fine." The dark haired man nods reassuringly.
"Then I'll see you at dinner, little (Y/N). Don't catch a fever with all that steam blowing out of you." He laughs at your still baffled expression and places his large hand on your head, departing.
Daitou holds the door open for you and you hurry inside. As you both walk down the hallway of the luxurious restaurant, you can't help the nagging feeling that he's once again omitted some vital information.
"Can you tell me again who else is coming? Just Kazuya?"
"Oh no, it's a Family meeting. So Boss and the rest of the Seniors, too."
You gasp in horror, but before you can scold him, you find yourself behind the canvas screen divider, facing a table of older men in suits, holding their drinks and eyeing you suspiciously.
"Oi, who the fuck is this, Daitou?" one of them growls.
"I already told you before, (Y/N). My girlfriend."
"Huh? Did you seriously just bring a civvy to our meeting? I knew you got a loose screw, boy, but this tops it all."
Daitou frowns and steps in front of you, visibly annoyed.
"If ya got a problem with my woman being here, I can settle it for you, old man. When was the last time you fought someone?"
"'s that supposed to mean?"
"It means you've gotten too comfortable sitting up there and barking orders. Let me remind you why they leave the killings to me."
The thick tension in the air is quickly dispersed by a loud, relaxed laugh. At the end of the table, a heavily scarred man with grey hair is clapping his hands in delight, seemingly amused by the events unfolding. He glances at you and pats a cushioned seat to his right.
"There you are! Come join us, miss (Y/N). Ignore those rusty grumps, they ain't seen a woman outside a host club." He throws the instigator a brief glare. "Is that any way to talk to my guest, Oota?"
The man swallows dryly and mutters an apology. He goes back to his drink, preoccupied, and the rest follow suit.
You hesitantly kneel down to your designated place, sheepishly peeking at the mysterious figure. Could it be? As if reading your mind, Daitou places an encouraging hand on your waist and lowers his head to your ear, swiftly whispering "that's Boss" before going to greet the others at the table.
"I-it's a pleasure meeting you, Sir." You mumble nervously.
"No no, pleasure is all mine. I'm Eiji Ijichi, 8th Head of our Family."
His introduction is unexpectedly warm and his easygoing way of speaking reminds you a lot of Daitou. The faintest grin threatens to appear, but you cover your mouth. With enough imagination, this could be the equivalent of meeting your in-laws. This is Daitou's family, after all. A criminally scary one, but nonetheless you've been welcomed with open arms.
"Do you drink?" The older man asks you, raising his porcelain cup.
"Naturally." You exclaim and lift your own cup enthusiastically.
"Attagirl!"
As the night progresses, the men at the table are loosening up under the influence of expensive alcohol. Kazuya seems to be caught in a terribly involved conversation with Daitou and one of their Captains, gesturing dramatically and occasionally raising his tone. You notice your glass has once again been filled by the waitress and take another sip, satisfied with observing their fun from the sidelines. Boss has a similar approach, gazing nostalgically over the rowdy group of thugs.
He reaches for his pack of smokes and you scramble to pick up the lighter, politely bowing as you light up his cigarette. He smiles at your gesture.
"I see Daitou's trained you already."
He ponders for a moment, gently blowing a cloud of smoke upwards.
"You'll make a good wife."
"Excuse me?" You question, startled by his sudden remark.
"It's hard to tell, but I'm getting pretty old myself." He snickers at his self made compliment. "Soon it'll be time to pick my successor. I have no children, unless you count that rascal I picked from the streets." He says as he tilts his chin towards Daitou.
"I love him like my own kid, but I'm sure you noticed he's a little off. Everyone is terrified of him. You can't have a leader if everyone runs away from him, ya know? I was starting to get worried I'd work myself through retirement. Kazuya can only do so much!
Then he comes up to me grinning like an idiot. I thought, 'There it is. He finally lost it', but instead he asks me if I want to see a photo of his girlfriend. Girlfriend?! I was ready to witness some crusty body pillow, my hand was on the phone to call our Family doctor. He shows me a cute foreigner standing next to him. Now I'm pretty sure he's not smart enough to fake photos like that, so it must be the real deal. 'How the Devil did ya pull this one?' I asked him. Cause listen, I was rather handsome back in my day and I still wouldn't have been this lucky.
And would ya look at that, it's the miss that moved into our apartments! How's the living conditions, by the way? Everything going fine?"
You nod energetically.
"Good, good."
He crosses his arms and nods himself, satisfied. He turns to gaze at you intently, with a face you can't quite read.
"You gotta excuse a drunk old man for rambling so much. What I'm trying to say...well...
Take care of him when he becomes the 9th, will ya? If he has you, I'm sure he'll manage. But don't tell him I said that! You gotta keep them humble. See, that's a lesson for you too. If there's one person the Head of the Family bows to, that's his wife! But I doubt he'd let the power get to his head."
You both turn to Daitou. He just finished pouring more sake to his superior and notices your stare. He blushes slightly and waves, unsure why he's suddenly being observed.
"I think so, too." You respond, waving back.
How would that look on a CV? Ane-san of a Yakuza family.
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Boys on Film. Part iv
Pairing: PS!Steve x PS!Eddie x Virgin!reader
Summary: It's been a year since you last saw Eddie and Steve. The last place you expected to see them again for the first time was at a club while you were out with your new boyfriend. The night does not go how you imagined it at all.
Warnings: Smut (18+ MDNI), public sex (ish), fingering, angst, cheating (sorry)
Word count: 6.8K
a/n: I hope this kind of makes up for the ending of the last chapter but also I'm sorry in advance. (also as always a massive thank yous to my babies @andvys @wroteclassicaly @usedtobecooler @bimbobaggins69 for all of your help I love you all so much)
Taglist is closed but if you want an update on when I post the next chapter you can follow my fic account @corrodedcorpsesfics and turn on notifications🖤
Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4.5
Steve and Eddie stare at your closed door that had just been slammed in their face moments ago. It had all gone so wrong, so fast. Neither of them had meant for it to go that way or to fight like that with you. All of their (and your own) long harboured emotions coming out during the fight, all of the love turning into hate in order to protect your hearts from - what you all assumed - would no doubt be rejection.
Eddie is the first to break eye contact with your door. Scoffing and walking toward his van as Steve leans his head on the door, closing his eyes trying to will you to open it again. He’s almost sure he can hear tiny sobs coming from the other side and it feels like his heart is breaking all over again.
He can hear Eddie behind him, pacing and grumbling out “shit”, “fuck” and mumbling “that was so stupid” over and over again. Steve is frozen in place, he knows as soon as he breaks away from your door that it’s all over, that he’ll have to face the reality of what just happened. He doesn’t know if he can do that yet.
A loud smack, that was obviously Eddie’s palm hitting his car, finally jolts Steve out of his self pity. He finally turns to him, watching as Eddie continues to pace and mumble expletives under his breath, his ringed fingers running through his hair with so much force Steve thinks he’s about to rip it all out.
“Eddie,” he tries, too quietly as the other man doesn’t stop.
He glances at your door one more time before sighing and walking up to Eddie.
“Eddie,” he says more firmly, standing next to where he continues to pace, “come on man-”
“Don't you ‘come on man’ me,” Eddie interrupts, whipping around to finally look at Steve, “what the fuck was that, Harrington.”
Steve flinches at the use of his last name, something Eddie only uses to tease or hurt him.
“What the fuck was what, Munson?” Steve throws his own surname back at him with just as much venom, Eddie squinting his eyes into a glare.
“All that,” Eddie explains, wildly gesturing to your house, “bullshit you pulled in there. ‘At least you wouldn’t have been a virgin in your twenties’,” he mocks what Steve had said to you.
“The bullshit I pulled?” Steve almost shouts back, “What about you, huh?” He asks, a finger poking into Eddie’s chest to reiterate his point. “You didn’t break that shit to her gently at all! No wonder she went straight into ‘defence mode’.”
Eddie just rolls his eyes at him, even though he knows Steve's right.
The action only angers Steve more. “I wasn’t even in that stupid argument until you dragged me in with your bullshit about hanging out with King Steve.”
Eddie visibly cringes at the memory of using Steve’s old title, one he knew Steve loathed and has done years of work to be anything but. But, Eddie couldn’t let Steve ‘win’ the argument. If he did he would have to admit that all of this was his fault.
“Whatever,” Eddie scoffs, “the argument only turned nasty as soon as you put your 2 cents in! The shit you said was just—” Eddie pauses, remembering how Steve had teased him for not ‘making a move’ on you sooner, saying everyone thought you were Eddie’s ‘property’ during high school, outing him for scaring away anyone that dared to get close to you because he knew that weren’t good enough for you, “mean.”
Eddie whispers the last word. The only word he could come up with to express how he felt, how that whole argument transported him right back to his teenage years, something he truly thought he had gotten over from the help of you and Steve. Something he obviously was far from getting over.
Steve’s demeanour changes, he can see the hurt in Eddie’s eyes, the sliver of vulnerability that he’s been hiding behind his rage. He understands the weight that one word holds.
“I didn’t intend for it to be mean, I just, I don’t know, it just–-” he’s taken aback, stuttering through some sort of an explanation, but there isn’t one. He was mean.
“It’s like you wanted to hurt her,” Eddie continues, but he doesn’t mean just you, “hurt me.” He whispers so softly, he’s sure Steve wouldn’t even hear him. But Steve does.
“What? Why would I want to hurt someone I love!” Steve says too quickly in response, eyes widening when he realises what he just said, what he just confessed to Eddie. But when he looks at Eddie he only sees hurt in his eyes.
Eddie still doesn’t think Steve heard him say ‘hurt me’, so he takes Steve’s confession as a confession of love for you, not you and him.
Eddie just laughs with no humour, shaking his head. “I was fucking right, I fucking knew you hadn’t changed – you’re such an asshole, man.”
The cogs in Eddie’s head turn, thinking back to how Steve had said all those things against him, no doubt finally seeing his opportunity to put a wedge between you both, so Steve could finally have you all to himself.
Steve just stares at him in shock as whatever fragments of his heart that were left break even further. He didn’t think Eddie loved him back but there was some part of him that had hoped, that had at least thought Eddie would be nice about it, gentle with his heart even if he didn’t want to keep it.
He didn’t think Eddie would laugh in his face and call him an asshole.
“Wow,” Steve says to himself in disbelief, “okay.” He feels the tears well up in his eyes as his chest physically aches from all of the heartbreak tonight. He doesn’t want Eddie to see him break down, he'd no doubt laugh at his misery.
He starts to walk away from Eddie, it’s the only thing he can think to do. It’s only a couple of miles to his house, the air isn’t too cold and it’s not too late — he can easily just walk home, he thinks.
“Steve?” Eddie questions as the other boy starts to hurry away from him, “Steve!” He tries again, an air of worry in his voice as he calls out, “Seriously? You’re just gonna walk away from me too huh?” Eddie yells.
“Whatever man,” Steve yells back, already at the end of your driveway, stopping only when his shoes hit the road to look back at Eddie, “you basically just rejected me so, I don’t need this shit anymore.” Steve spits, mentally cursing the way his voice wobbles as he says it. He continues down the road, needing to get as much distance between him and Eddie before he can finally break down.
“What?” Eddie says too quietly, he realises when Steve doesn’t respond, “rejected you?” he shouts this time. But still Steve doesn’t stop.
“Steve! Would you — shit,” Eddie curses. He’s so confused about what Steve meant, he’s so confused about this whole evening but he needs to know. The tiny sliver of his heart that is holding onto hope needs to know what Steve meant.
Eddie runs around to the drivers side and launches himself into his van. Cursing when the engine turns over way too many times before it finally roars to life. He swings out of the driveway like a madman, thanking the universe that you live on a quiet street.
He catches up with Steve quickly, slowing the van down until he’s driving right beside him. He’s happy he never listened to you and Steve about needing to roll his windows up.
“Steve, would you just stop,” Eddie pleads.
“No,” is all Steve replies.
“Steve,” Eddie pleads exasperatedly, “what did you mean?”
But Steve doesn’t answer and he doesn't stop walking. He hopes if he ignores Eddie long enough that he will just leave him alone.
And he thinks his plan worked when Eddie suddenly drives forwards down the road. But, those hopes are shattered when Eddie parks a little bit ahead of Steve and hops out.
Steve finally stops walking as he sees Eddie running towards him. He should just turn around and walk away, circle back around at the other end of your street, it’s a longer way to walk but at least he wouldn’t have to see Eddie. But he doesn’t, his feet won’t let him move. He sees Eddie rushing towards him and his whole body aches for Eddie to just hold him as he breaks down and melts into his arms.
When Eddie finally gets to Steve he’s quick to invade his space, cupping his face tenderly in both of his hands. Eddie searches Steve’s eyes, he can see the unshed tears threatening to spill, the hurt and the tiny bit of hope Steve also holds. It’s enough for Eddie to ask again, even if it could mean more heartache.
“Steve,” he whispers so tenderly, it makes Steve’s knees almost buckle, makes it even harder to not just fall at Eddie’s feet and beg him to love him back, “what did you mean?”
Steve swallows, hard. He looks into Eddie’s big, brown, pleading eyes. He knows he’s about to get his heart smashed, completely obliterated when he explains himself, but he can’t stop his mouth from moving. God, he would do anything Eddie asked while he cradled his face so delicately and looked at him like that.
“I basically just told you I wanted you,” he whispers, eye’s never leaving Eddie’s “a-and you just told me to, to get fucked.” He closes his eyes trying to will his tears to stay at bay, the last sentence coming out all wobbly as he tries to stop his bottom lip from trembling.
“Steve…” Eddie says in a way that has Steve opening his eyes again. He’s met with confusion and yearning swimming in Eddie’s beautiful brown orbs. “You want me?” Eddie asks in disbelief, “I - I thought you were talking about her!” It comes out like a question, like a plea.
“I was,” Steve says, and he can see Eddie’s eyes start to fall, feel his hands on his cheeks loosen, Steve is quick to grab Eddie’s wrists, keeping his hands on his cheeks before quickly continuing, “I was talking about both of you, idiot.” He says the last word fondly, with a hint of a smile dancing on his still trembling lips.
Eddie can’t help but return a small smile of his own. Steve wants him too. He leans forward to capture Steve’s lips with his own. It’s the only thing he can think to do in the moment, the only thing his body will let him do. Steve returns the kiss immediately. It’s soft, so soft that it sears their lips, all of the passion and pent up feelings and anger from the last hour coming out in the way their lips and tongue dance together so slowly.
Eddie finally pulls back after they’ve run out of air, resting his forehead against Steve’s. “I like you too,” he whispers, just in case it wasn’t obvious, revelling in the way it makes Steve smile, “I like you both too.”
Steve pulls back to look at Eddie properly, he can see the mix of happiness and regret all over Eddie’s face.
“Oh.” Steve says. It’s all he can say, he sees the whole argument differently now, sees how stupid they both had been. He realises why Eddie said and did what he did and regrets the things he said to him. Knowing how much more they would have hurt now.
“Yeah, ‘oh’,” Eddie replies.
“We're idiots.” Steve sighs.
“Yep.” Eddie agrees.
“Should we… go back inside?” Steve asks.
Eddie shakes his head knowingly, “give her some time, trust me.”
He thinks back to all the times you showed up at his trailer door, sheepishly asking if you could spend the day or the night or the weekend when you were upset. Always claiming to need space from your family after you fought. Eddie never realising what you needed wasn’t space, what you needed was him.
But you never told him that.
So, they do give you time. They give you a day to cool off, to sit with your thoughts before they call, but are only met with silence in return. They try again a day later — and again another day after that. They try to go over to your house a week later but you’re either not there or are pretending not to be.
They try again and again and again until trying every day turns into every two days, which turns into trying every week, which turns into trying every now and then over the next couple of months. The last time they tried was months later when they had had a particularly rough day and just needed you.
All of this was met with silence.
You weren’t sure what you expected when you kicked them out, but you hadn’t expected them to just leave. You had expected them to at least come back later that night or the next day.
Not call you late the next night like that would make up for anything and you didn’t expect it to take them a full week of calling before coming over to try and see you.
All of this just seemed to cement the idea in your head that they didn’t care about you as much as you'd been stupid enough to believe they did.
You didn’t realise how upset and borderline distraught this had also made them. You didn’t realise how upset they were after every failed attempt. How they had both sat on the kitchen floor in their new apartment months later and cried, surrounded by half unpacked boxes after that final time they tried, and failed, to call. Because none of this felt right without you.
And they didn’t realise how you’d done the exact same thing on the floor in your kitchen that night, cursing yourself for not just picking up the damn phone this time.
*******
You hold the two dresses up against your body, one at a time. Trying to decide between the black — tight, revealing and super uncomfortable or the dusty pink — a stark contrast, more modest, cute and comfortable.
You’d spent the last hour getting ready for your date with your boyfriend of about 6 months, Bradley. He was… nice… and fun… and, well, a good distraction. It was nice to feel needed. But, you know deep down that it ultimately won’t go anywhere.
There’s just something… missing. A spark? Passion? Familiarity? The fact that he’s not Eddie or Steve?
You groan at yourself for even having that thought, dropping the dresses back on your bed as your eyes land on the picture on your dresser next to your mirror. It’s a cute photo of you, Eddie and Steve, faces squished together and giant smiles plastered on your faces. A photo you still can’t bring yourself to get rid of.
You sigh and flip it over as you seem to before every date, the picture somehow making you feel guilty. As if the two people in the photo hadn’t completely broken your heart. But you know you’ll just put it back to its original position as soon as you get home again.
You shake yourself out of your thoughts, before you make the mistake of going down that black hole of missing them once again. You decide to just go for the revealing, uncomfortable dress — knowing Bradley would probably like it more, praise you for showing off the curves you mostly hid from him.
You’ll hopefully be too drunk to feel the discomfort anyway.
*****
The club is loud and packed when you arrive with Bradley, the bass and the stench of spilled sugary drinks overwhelming. You clutch the strap of the purse that’s across your chest nervously, there’s a split second where you want to turn around, hightail it out of there and cuddle up at home by yourself instead. You from a year ago would’ve, but you’re not that same person anymore.
“Drinks?” He yells at you over the music. He’s at least courteous enough to keep a tight arm around your waist, hugging you in close to shield you slightly from the rowdy party goers who already had one too many to drink.
“Please,” you yell back before you both make your way to the bar. Winding through the growing crowd of rowdy people, his hand heavy on your skin, feeling out of place.
You rest your forearms against the bar, wincing at the sticky feeling underneath. You watch as the bartenders flit around, making the various overpriced, overly sweet drinks for the other patrons who arrived long before you.
Your eyes wander as you wait, taking in the neon signs behind the bar, the shelves of alcohol with countless cheap labels, smiling as you see two girls overly excited to see each other, the guys next to you obviously getting rejected by the girls standing in front of them, the couple that can't seem to keep their hands off each other at the very end of the bar –- wait.
Wait.
You stare at the couple for longer than you should. Your brain taking a second to catch up with your eyes. You can only see the back of the guy as you take in his dark clothes, the chain bracelet on his wrist, the tattoos littered along his pale skin, the bats adorning his forearm, the long mop of curly brown hair- No. No no no no no.
Eddie?
Your head starts to spin, and not just from the overwhelming atmosphere of the club. Why is he here? Why now? Why is he with a girl? You curse yourself for even thinking that last part and for the pang of jealousy in your chest. You’re here with your boyfriend, you can’t be getting jealous of the guy who broke your heart being here with some other girl.
Even if he was your best friend for all of highschool, the only person who got you through that hell hole, one of the only people you’ve ever truly trusted, truly loved, who you definitely still love more than your own boyfriend as much as you try to pretend you don't, whose back is doing more things for you than your boyfriend has the whole time you’ve been dating, who kisses so much better than him, who looks really good right now kissing… Steve?!
It’s only then that Eddie turns slightly, giving you a glimpse of the ‘mystery girl’. You feel like you’re gonna be sick. What are they doing? Here? Together? God they look so good.
All thoughts fail you as you’re mesmerised watching them. The way their bodies press against each other, how Eddie has both hands lazily in Steve's back pockets as Steve's hands fist the front of Eddie’s shirt. Your cunt aches at the way their lips move together as though they’ve done this a thousand times.
They probably have done this a thousand times, you realise. They way they are standing, so relaxed with each other, like there's no hurry to the makeout session, like they have all night.
You're confused and hurt as you watch them. You can’t help but wonder if they’re together, they make a hot couple afterall. But you can’t help the awful feelings that that realisation arises. All of your fears from a year ago come flooding back, you were right. They never wanted you.
Before you can fully spiral you see Bradley’s hand wave in front of your face, it’s then that you realise he’s been talking to you and you see a stressed bartender give you a forced yet polite smile, as they wait for you to tell them what you want.
“Hello? y/n?” He asks, concerned.
“Huh?” You reply, dumb, unable to take your eyes off of them — it’s all your brain can come up with as a response, too absorbed in the scene taking place just feet from you.
“What would you like?” He asks, like he’s already asked you multiple times. You rip your eyes away from them, focusing on Bradley’s face that’s still soft and full of admiration, as if you hadn’t been actively ignoring him. As if time hadn’t just stood still, as you watched on in what could only be described as devastation.
“Oh-- ah-- just my usual,” you say finally, glancing back at Eddie and Steve. Watching as Steve’s hand curls into Eddie's hair, it’s longer now, you realise. I wonder if it would still be as soft or if - you shake that image out of your head. “Maybe some shots? Patreon or tequila, you like both right?” You add quickly.
Bradley seems surprised but compiles, ordering one of his own. You take the small glass in your hand, bringing it up to your lips, the strong smell already paralysing, before downing it as fast as you can. You make the mistake of glancing at Eddie and Steve again as you do, finding yourself making eye contact with Steve, realising they’re both looking at you now. You almost choke on the drink in your mouth, wincing at how the liquid burns more than usual as it slides down your throat.
You grab your drink and Bradley's hand, quickly leading him to the dancefloor. Needing to get as much space between you and the boys as possible.
Eddie and Steve watch you take the other guy's hand with dark eyes. You spare a glance back seeing Steve’s angry eyes as Eddie whispers something in his ear.
Angry? What does he have to be angry about?
You weave in and out of the crowd as they stumble and bump into you, the alcohol making them stagger on their feet and spill their drinks haphazardly on the floor. The further you get lost into the sea of people the more you try to shake Steve and Eddie out of your head, determined to still have a good time despite the anxiety that has wrapped its way around your chest.
Once you’re almost in the centre of the dancefloor, safely concealed by the thrawl of dancers, you turn to your boyfriend. You pull him in close, rocking your hips to the sound of the music and giving him a forced smile.
You dance with him for a while, getting lost in the music as you feel the alcohol seep through your body. Although it does nothing to settle the ugly feeling deep in your stomach. As much as you try you can’t help but spare little glances around the club, not being able to stop yourself from aching for just one more glance at them.
You finally see them, startled by the fact that they’re only a couple of people away from you. Steve is the only one actually dancing but Eddie is happily swaying with him, more than content with and touching Steve and placing gentle kisses all over his neck. Your chest tightens further at the need to tease Eddie about finally dancing, the realisation that you can’t joke with him like that anymore and the jealousy that he would come out to the dancefloor with Steve, even though he never would for you.
As these ugly emotions swirl around your stomach you realise they’re both watching you, stealing glances the same way you are, but a lot less subtly. Your blood boils at the looks they're giving you, they seem hurt and angry and almost… sad? They have no right to.
You turn your attention back to Bradley, you make out and grind against him, every now and then looking at them both and winking when you see them clench their jaws.
You’re confused as you continue your show. What do they have to be angry about? Why do they even care that you’re dancing with someone that isnt them? There was a time when they could’ve had you, a time when you would’ve done anything for them but they were the ones who threw you away. They have no right to be angry now.
Bradley leans down to whisper in your ear, you’re hopeful that he’s going to say something hot, a compliment or something, instead he lets you know he’s going to get more drinks, leaving you alone in the crowd before you can say anything else. You try to not look anxious about being alone in such a dense crowd of strangers, knowing Bradley is going to take a long time with how packed it is.
You find some comfort knowing that Steve and Eddie are close by, although you’re not sure why. You decide to continue dancing, doing the most to look as hot and unbothered as possible, but when you spare another glance at Steve and Eddie you’re surprised to find they’ve also gone. It’s weird how their absence has made you feel more alone than Bradley’s.
You start to leave, deciding to head outside for some fresh air before going to find Bradley where he’s no doubt still waiting at the bar. That is, until you feel hands lightly on your waist. You start to panic, until you hear the stranger whisper in your ear.
“Hey there, little one.”
Eddie.
Your body shudders at hearing his voice again. You have to fight every nerve in your body to not melt back into him, turn around and wrap your arms around him and cry into his chest. But you don’t, you're frozen in place instead.
“We liked that little show you put on for us, sweetheart,” he continues as you feel his hands massage small circles in your hips as he presses himself closer to you, you can feel the outline of his semi against your ass and it takes everything in you not to moan at the feeling.
He starts to rock you both to the music before pressing gentle kisses along your neck. So feather light you’re not sure if you’re actually imagining them, just some mean trick your mind is playing on you. You start to melt back against him, your body betraying you as it’s automatically drawn into the safety of Eddie’s chest and arms.
You let yourself get caught up in the feeling before reality comes crashing down. You have a boyfriend, he has a boyfriend, you can’t be doing this. You snap out of the weird trance you’ve been in, pulling away from Eddie and finally turning to face him, fully preparing yourself to tell him off before you see the look on his face.
It causes your breath to hitch as you see the pure lust written all over his face, his blown and glassy pupils staring into your soul and the possessiveness buried deep inside them that makes your thighs clench.
You go to take a step back, needing space between you both but your back collides with another chest instead. Another set of lips brushing your ear as they whisper lowly to you.
“Don't be like that, honey.”
Steve.
Your head swims at the proximity of both of them. The familiar smells and feel of them crumbling whatever stubborn exterior you were trying to portray.
You feel Steve's hands run along the sides of your waist and down your thighs before tracing light patterns back up again, your dress pulling up at the sides as he does. He pushes against you as Eddie had, although he is a lot more worked up from your little show than Eddie was — a testament to how he always was more of the jealous type.
“Can you feel what your little show did to us baby?” He asks like you’ve wounded them. Eddie pushing against you at the same time. “You’re so fucking naughty, getting us all worked up like that.”
“Anything to say for yourself, miss?” Eddie asks when you don’t respond right away. How could you? Your head feels like it's about to spin off your shoulders, your cunt feels like it’s about to start dripping down your thighs, they’ve thoroughly wrecked you with no more than some gentle touches, barely any grinding and a couple of words whispered seductively in your ears.
You only manage a small moan in response, one that you’re thankful only they can hear over the loud music.
They both chuckle at your response, knowing they have you right where they want you. Loving how fucking easy you are for them.
Steve’s fingers continue to dance along your thighs as Eddie’s hand comes to rest on your waist again, both of them pressing into you and swaying you to the music, causing their hardening cocks to grind against you.
Steve's fingers slide to the front of your dress, tracing up the inside of your thighs as you let out a little whimper. Steve smirks against your skin as he starts to kiss up your throat as Eddie had just before. Your eyes start to flutter shut as Steve’s fingers inch higher, so close to where you desperately need him.
“That feel nice, pretty girl?” Steve asks, although he already knows the answer, “want me to keep going?”
Eddie keeps his eyes trained on your blissed out face, sucking on his bottom lip as he anxiously waits for your answer.
You nod your head slowly, words failing you as you melt back into Steve.
“Ah, ah,” Eddie tuts, “you know the rules princess, use your words.”
“P-please.” You barely breathe out, and Eddie’s sure he would’ve missed it if his eyes weren't glued to your lips.
He nods at Steve, who groans as his fingers finally make contact with your dripping cunt, feeling the slick that’s soaked through your panties.
Eddie holds your waist tighter, half keeping you upright as your legs start to shake, half shielding you from any onlookers as he continues to sway his hips, making it look like you three were just dancing.
Steve dips his fingers into your underwear, moaning in your ear as he gathers your slick on his thick fingers before rubbing your clit.
“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he teases, “this is all for us huh?”
You can only nod and whine in response, too far gone to be embarrassed by how close they were getting you already. No one except for Steve and Eddie have been able to get you this close this fast.
You feel the coil in your stomach tighten further as Steve's thick digits breach your aching cunt, finding a steady pace immediately, his palm dragging deliciously over your slick clit. Eddie’s grip on your waist becomes so tight you’re sure he’s gonna leave bruises that you’re going to have to try and explain to Bradley later, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You’re happy that he’s at least holding you somewhat upright as your knees start to get weak.
Eddie presses further into you still to keep you upright, so far that Steve can feel Eddie’s hard cock pulsing against his hand even through his jeans. Making Steve’s cock ache for some sort of release as he starts to rock gently into your ass. Craving some relief.
You feel the familiar feeling of your orgasm approaching as you teeter on the edge. Only able to get out small sputters of “I’m, I’m—” before you’re burying your face in the crook of Eddie’s neck as your orgasm comes crashing into you.
Your ears ring and your vision goes white as you ride out your orgasm around Steve’s fingers, rutting against his hand while clinging to Eddie.
When you finally start to come down from your high you’re barely aware of the music still blaring around you, focusing only on Steve’s hands rubbing soothing circles in your thighs, Eddie’s hand in your hair and their praises gently flowing through your ears.
Suddenly, reality hits you like a truck. Completely cracking the walls of whatever weird dream you’ve been trapped in with Eddie and Steve. Suddenly everything seems too much, their touch is suffocating and grating against your skin, the music of the club is blaring too loud, rocking your skull and their sweet whispers might as well be screams in your ear.
You need to get away.
You finally look at Eddie, his eyes meeting yours. He knows that look.
“y/n-,” he tries as you start to squirm out of their grip.
“Let me go”, you suddenly hiss at him, finally breaking free and rushing through the crowd and out the door. You hear them yell after you, but you keep going, their voices being drowned out by the music the further you get away from them.
By the time you finally make it outside you feel as if you can hardly breathe. Your chest is so tight and you struggle to take shallow breaths, you can feel the unshed tears prick your eyes as you try and will them to keep at bay. Although you’re not sure why, you’re almost certain your makeup must be a mess now, most of it left on Eddie’s collar, you doubt a couple of tears would really make much of a difference.
You shakily reach into the clutch still thankfully secured across your chest, fishing out a smoke. You put one between your lips as you try, but fail to find your lighter. You sigh in frustration, of course you’ve lost your lighter.
“Here, let me.” You hear someone whisper, before you see the flicker of a lighter in front of your lips. You don’t have to look up from your clutch to know that it’s Eddie. Your eyes meet his timid ones as you lean forward, using the flame to light the end of your cigarette.
“Thanks,” you mumble before looking beside Eddie, realising Steve also followed you out here.
You all stand in awkward silence, Eddie busying himself by lighting his own cigarette.
“I– ah,” Steve finally breaks the silence. There’s so much he wants to say, so much he needs you to hear, but the words won't form, instead he opts for, “didn’t know you smoked.”
You snort half a laugh, shaking your head. You weren’t sure what you were expecting him to say but it definitely wasn't that. Sorry would have been a good start… but at least you’re talking, you guess.
“There’s a lot you both don’t know about me anymore,” you reply, deadpan. You see them both visibly flinch at the implication of your words. It's been over a year since they last saw you, you've had a whole year's worth of experiences without them, would they even recognise the person you'd become?
You bring your smoke back up to your lips, thankful for the distraction it provides and for how it's almost calming most of your nerves.
It doesn't, however, distract you enough to not feel their hungry eyes on you. You're surprised your dress doesn't have holes burnt into the fabric with how hot and heavy their gazes are. You adjust your dress with your free hand trying to pull the fabric down, cursing yourself now for wearing the revealing dress.
You don’t want them to see you squirm, you need to keep up this teasing, nonchalant act you were trying to portray, you couldn't let them know how much seeing them again was hurting you.
“See something you like?” You slur seductively at them, not shying away from their eyes. Even as your palms sweat and your heart rattles in your chest.
They both chuckle and shake their heads, not in disagreement but at the absurdity of your question. Of course they did. You looked stunning, confident. In a dress you usually would be too shy to wear. It was nice to see you like this, but it was also weird.
Not weird in a bad way, it just hurt. It hurt them to see that you finally seemed to be growing into yourself and hopefully finally seeing how beautiful you were. Except it was without them.
“You seem… different,” Eddie finally managed. He couldn't think of a better way to put it. Not better, not worse, just different. But that's what heartbreak will do to a person.
“I am different.” You say back, no hidden meaning behind it, like it’s that simple.
They were different. You were different. You’d just grown away from each other. You’d all changed and grown in the year that had passed, in the year that you had all ached for each other. Now here you were, and it felt like you were talking to strangers.
You had a picture of them on your dresser that you saw everyday, and yet it felt like those two men were different from the ones that stood in front of you now.
It makes your whole body ache.
You want to fill the silence, distract yourself from the heavy feeling. You want to mess with them, annoy them, make them even more jealous and angry and hurt than they’ve already seemed to have been tonight.
“Trust me,” you say finally, “I’ve had lots of experience since you last saw me.” You wiggle your eyebrows suggestively, trying to joke around with them as if it’s no big deal.
You see their jaws clench. Eddie fights the urge to scoff at you, to roll his eyes, to scream in your face. Steve is a little better at hiding his distaste at what you’re insinuating. Both knowing they have no right to feel as hurt and betrayed as they do right now.
You’re not theirs.
“Well, they must be some lucky guys then.” Eddie tries to speak sincerely. It comes out like venom.
“Hmm,” you hum, revelling in their reactions. Trying to think of what else you can say to rile them up like this. “And girls,” you say with a wink.
Lies, it’s all lies.
You had drunkenly kissed one girl out the back of a club after too many drinks. She was nice and soft and tasted like vodka and raspberries. But that was it… just a kiss.
The furthest you’d gotten with your current boyfriend was some grinding and heavy touches. Always stopping before it got too far. He was always respectful of that, something you appreciated.
They look at you stunned. You could see their brains working a mile a minute. You could tell they were imagining something much more lewd than reality. Victory.
Desperate for this conversation to be over before they pried and realised you were talking all of your experiences up to be something much more, you stomp out your cigarette. Giving them a small smile that said ‘are we done here?’ as you started to walk away.
Before you can get too far you feel a hand desperately grasp your arm. You know it’s Steve before you even turn around.
You see his mouth open as he struggles to find the right words to say but you don’t want to hear it. You can’t.
“Don’t,” you interrupt, before he can even say a single word. His mouth closes as his hand reluctantly lets go of your arm, brushing the skin of your forearm as he drops his hand. You curse your body for the goosebumps that appear along the trail of his fingertips.
You’re about to turn around again when you decide to ask them just one thing. Something that’s been weighing heavy on you since you first saw them at the bar.
“So, um,” you start tentatively, rubbing your hand over the arm that Steve had just touched, unsure if you’re trying to warm yourself up or wipe away the memory of his fingertips, “how long have you been dating?”
They share a look before Eddie slowly mumbles, “a little over a year.”
A little over a year.
The same amount of time since your fight. The guilty looks on their faces let you know it was very shortly after they broke your heart. So while you were alone, completely breaking and having to put yourself back together again all by yourself, they were just having the time of their lives? Starting a new and exciting relationship? Typical.
“Of course you have been,” you scoff. Turning abruptly and stalking away from them as fast as your stupidly uncomfortable heels would let you.
“Y/n wait! It’s not like tha–“ Steve calls after you, desperately trying to catch you before you run off once again. Like he’s worried this time you’ll be gone for good.
“Just leave me alone!” You practically yell. You feel bad for raising your voice and how it makes them flinch but finally, they let you go.
*****
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