#I don’t actually listen to her music but she seems cool

[acute-crashout-jeyuso]

Sacrifices / BTR Book 2: a Jhea fanfic.

Chapter 8: of course I’m going to give $25 to my nephew..

January 29th, 2025 12:27PM

Jeyce and Demi sat at the usual loner lunch table, sharing laughs as they recounted their morning classes. Demi, as always, had a way of making him laugh, her wit sharper than most people realized. For the first time since the awkward conversation with his dad, Jeyce felt completely at ease.

As she took a sip from her juice box, Demi looked at him, her dark eyes gleaming with excitement. “So… do you have any plans for Friday?” she asked casually, her voice slightly playful.

Jeyce shrugged, though his heart was already racing. “Uh, yeah… kind of. My brother Jaciyah’s coming down with our mom. He’s been staying with her to help her with the move to Stamford,” he explained, trying to keep his tone casual.

Demi nodded, a small smile forming on her lips. “Well, I was going to invite you to a listening party for The Smiths at this place called CD Master Copy downtown,” she said, her voice hopeful. “My sister is visiting this weekend and she said she could take us. She’s cool with it.”

Jeyce’s brain froze for a second. The Smiths? He’d never even heard of them. But the idea of spending time with Demi outside of school, hanging out and listening to music, was too good to pass up. He found himself nodding, a little too eagerly. “Yeah… yeah, sure! That sounds fun, you didn’t mention a sister.” he replied, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt.

Demi’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Awesome! You’ll love it; they’re amazing. You didn’t mention a brother.” She smiled, gathering her things as the bell rang. “See you on the bus?”

“Yeah… see you on the bus,” Jeyce replied, his face breaking into a smile as he watched her walk away. When she was out of earshot, he muttered under his breath, “Oh, crap…”

As he trudged to his next class, he couldn’t shake the feeling of both excitement and dread. Telling his dad about this was going to be a challenge. But one thing was certain—he wasn’t about to miss out on his first real chance to spend time with Demi.

—

Jeyce had barely dropped his backpack by the door before he went looking for his dad. He knew he had to tell him about the listening party with Demi, but his nerves were eating away at him. He finally spotted Jey tending to the greenhouse, his hands gently packing flower seeds into the soil. Jey was probably doing it for Rhea—Jeyce had caught on to his dad’s habit of planting little surprises for her.

“Hey, Dad,” Jeyce called, leaning against the greenhouse door.

Jey looked up, a small smile forming. “Hey, buddy. I actually wanted to talk to you about something,” he said, pushing another seed into the soil.

Jeyce tilted his head, curiosity replacing his nervousness for a moment. “Oh? Go ahead.”

Jey let out a breath, his eyes shifting away briefly before looking back at Jeyce. “So, you’re going to be thirteen in a couple of months…” he began, his tone a mix of seriousness and awkwardness.

Jeyce felt his own curiosity spike, a bit wary. “Yeah?” he replied, eyebrows raised in confusion.

Jey cleared his throat, visibly trying to find the right words. “Well, when me and your uncle were about your age, we started noticing… changes in our bodies.” He gave Jeyce a meaningful look, as though that explained everything.

Jeyce squinted slightly, still not fully understanding. “Yeaahhhh…” he replied slowly, hoping his dad would get to the point.

Jey rubbed the back of his neck, seeming even more uncomfortable now. “Well… look, son, if you’re, you know, noticing changes… it’s important to talk to me or, uh, someone about it. I don’t want you going on bad websites or—”

“Dad! No! Ew!” Jeyce interrupted, his face scrunching up in horror. He threw his hands up, backing away from his dad. “Nevermind! I’m out of here!”

He turned and bolted back toward the house, desperate to escape the painfully awkward conversation. As he hurried off, he could hear his dad’s voice behind him, tinged with exasperation and a little humor. “Well, that went well,” Jey muttered to himself, rubbing his temples.

Inside the house, Jeyce’s heart was still racing, but he couldn’t help but laugh a little at how disastrous the conversation had been. His dad was just trying, even if it was embarrassing. But one thing was clear—there was no way he was bringing up the listening party with Demi.

Jeyce climbed the stairs to his room, still feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief after his awkward talk with his dad. As he reached the top, he saw Rhea coming out of her room, adjusting her hair and humming softly to herself.

Jeyce hesitated for a moment, feeling a sudden, overwhelming need to say something—anything—to ease the lingering awkwardness and tension from earlier. “Rhea,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Rhea stopped, turning to face him with a gentle, curious smile. “Yes, Jeyce?” she asked, her tone as warm as ever.

Jeyce took a deep breath, his cheeks flushing slightly. “I… I love you still,” he mumbled, the words spilling out quicker than he had intended.

Rhea’s expression softened even more, her smile widening as she took in his words. Before she could respond, though, Jeyce quickly darted toward his room, not waiting to see her reaction.

As he shut his door, he heard her soft laughter drift down the hallway, filled with warmth and understanding. He let out a small sigh of relief, feeling the weight on his chest lighten just a bit. Even if things were changing in his life and family, moments like this reminded him that some things—like love—were solid and steady.

Jeyce threw himself onto his bed, feeling a strange mix of emotions. He knew things were about to get more complicated with Demi and whatever this listening party was going to bring, but for now, he felt a sense of calm.

—

Rhea found Jey in the greenhouse, kneeling among the rows of freshly planted flower seeds. He was focused on his task, carefully arranging the soil and making sure everything was just right for the blooms to come. She smiled at the sight, her heart swelling with affection for the man she came to love.

As she stepped closer, she gave him a kiss on the cheek. “What a wonderful job you’re doing here!” she said, her voice warm and encouraging.

Jey looked up, his expression brightening. “Thanks babe..” he replied, his cheeks slightly flushed from the unexpected affection.

Jey decided it was the perfect moment to share his earlier conversation with Jeyce. “I took your advice..” he said, brushing the dirt from his hands. “I talked to Jeyce about… you know, puberty.”

Rhea burst into laughter, the sound ringing through the greenhouse like music. “Oh my gosh, how did that go?” she asked, wiping a tear from her eye.

Jey scratched the back of his neck, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Not well, I think. I might have scared him off a bit.”

Still chuckling, Rhea shook her head. “Well, it’s a tough topic, but you’re a good dad for trying.”

Once the laughter settled, Rhea’s smile turned tender. “Oh, and speaking of Jeyce, he told me earlier that he still loves me,” she said, her heart fluttering at the thought.

Jey smiled, his gaze softening. “He still loves his bonus mommy,” he echoed, warmth spreading through him at the bond they had as a family.

Rhea nodded, her eyes sparkling. “It means so much to me.. he is growing..”

Jey looked around the greenhouse, the vibrant colors of the flowers surrounding them. “He is. It’s a little scary, but also kind of exciting to see him become his own person,” he said, feeling a sense of pride wash over him.

Rhea placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’re doing great, Jey. Just keep being there for him, and we’ll figure it out together.”

Jey nodded, feeling grateful for Rhea’s support. “I’m glad we’re in this together,” he replied, giving her a soft smile.

With their hearts feeling a little lighter, Rhea joined her fiancé as he returned to planting, the sun streaming through the greenhouse windows, casting a warm glow over their small family as they embraced the journey ahead.

—

Jeyce stared at his phone, anxiety swirling in his stomach as he read the text from Demi. Here are the details: $25 a person, 7-8:30 PM, black attire encouraged. A wave of dread washed over him. There was no way he could ask his dad for money—not after their awkward conversation about puberty. And Rhea? He certainly didn’t want to bring that up with her either.

But then, a light bulb went off in his head. He scrolled through the contacts on his phone, searching for a solution. His finger hovered over “Uncle Joe,” the name that brought a smile to his face. He clicked the FaceTime button, his heart racing as he waited for his uncle to answer.

“Hey there, if it isn’t my favorite nephew!” Joe’s face appeared on the screen, a wide grin spreading across his features.

Jeyce couldn’t help but smile back, despite his nerves. “Uncle, I need help. I’m in a pickle.”

Joe’s brow raised in curiosity. “What happened?”

“I met this girl, her name is Demi, and she is so cool, Joe! She has black hair and she looks like a vampire,” Jeyce said, his excitement bubbling over.

Joe chuckled. “I take it you met her in school?”

“Yes!” Jeyce exclaimed, feeling a surge of pride. “She’s really nice.”

“Is this the same school where you hit that other kid with a lunch box?” Joe teased.

Jeyce rolled his eyes, embarrassment creeping up his neck. “Did Dad tell you?”

Joe laughed heartily. “He put me and your Uncle Jon on a Zoom meeting and told us. I must say, you could have done a spear, far better.”

“I’m not doing a spear, Uncle Joe,” Jeyce replied, a hint of exasperation in his voice.

“Okay, okay,” Joe said, still chuckling. “So, what’s going on with Demi?”

Jeyce took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts. “Well, she invited me to this listening party, and it’s $25 to get in. I also wanted to buy her a milkshake afterward, and well… my dad just gave me a puberty talk, and now I’m emotionally scarred.”

Joe couldn’t contain his laughter, his hearty chuckles echoing through the speaker. “I can’t say I blame you, buddy. That talk can be pretty brutal.”

“For real, Uncle Joe,” Jeyce pleaded, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Can you help me out?”

“Sure thing, little man. I’ll send some money to your Cash App,” Joe replied, his tone turning serious. “Just remember, you’re still a kid, and it’s okay to feel overwhelmed sometimes. You’ve got a great future ahead of you.”

“Thank you so much!” Jeyce said, relief flooding through him. “You’re the best!”

“Just keep being yourself, and don’t forget to show Demi a good time. She sounds like a great girl,” Joe advised, giving Jeyce a knowing smile.

As they finished their conversation, Jeyce felt lighter, the looming date feeling less daunting. With Uncle Joe’s help, he could make it work. He hung up, excitement bubbling within him as he imagined the evening ahead, all while secretly vowing to himself to keep practicing his social skills—spear or not.

—

Later that night, Rhea and Jey lay together on their California king-size bed, the soft glow of a bedside lamp casting a warm light across the room. Rhea had been focused on her laptop, and now she looked up with a triumphant smile. “There, it’s done,” she announced, closing the lid.

Jey looked up from his phone, curiosity piqued. “What’s done?”

Rhea beamed. “I booked our couple’s therapy appointment with the new therapist for next Monday.”

Jey nodded, feeling a sense of relief. “That’s good, babe. It’s about time we started working on things.”

“Oh, and don’t forget you have your physical therapy appointment tomorrow,” Rhea reminded him, a hint of concern in her voice.

“I know, I know,” Jey replied, waving his hand dismissively. He put his phone down and closed Rhea’s laptop, wanting to draw her attention back to him. Craving some intimacy, he turned to her, his expression softening. “How is my baby doing?”

Rhea smirked, her playful side coming out. “Well, baby and mommy both would’ve appreciated their donuts this morning.”

Jey burst into laughter, shaking his head. “Babe, really?”

“Don’t act like you’re not partially responsible for this craving,” Rhea shot back, her tone teasing. Jey sighed dramatically.

“You could’ve redeemed yourself tomorrow, but Bruce comes back and I have to be in the office.” Rhea said.

“Boooo,” he continued, making a face. “What I wanted was one of those sexy afternoons.” He raised his eyebrows, giving her a sultry smirk that made her giggle.

“Don’t tempt me right now, mister,” Rhea laughed, shaking her head.

“I’m just saying,” Jey replied, leaning closer, his voice lowering playfully. “I’m trying to get it in every night, babe. Who knows? One day you’re going to wake up and hate me.”

Rhea laughed again, the sound light and carefree. “That’s the beauty of pregnancy,” she said, grinning at him. “You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.”

“I don’t think I could ever hate you,” Jey said earnestly, his gaze searching hers. “Even on your worst days, you’re still the most amazing woman I know.”

Rhea’s heart swelled at his words, and she reached out to cup his face with her hand. “You’re sweet. Just remember, I might be a little cranky at times, especially with these hormones.”

“Bring it on,” Jey challenged playfully, leaning into her touch. “I’ll take cranky Rhea any day.”

She laughed, feeling lighter in that moment. “You’re brave, I’ll give you that. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Warned and ready,” Jey said with a wink. He shifted closer, wrapping his arms around her, feeling the warmth of her body against his. “Now, how about we just enjoy this moment? No donuts, no therapy talk—just us.”

Rhea smiled, leaning her head against his shoulder. “I like the sound of that.”

They settled into a comfortable silence, the weight of the world outside their door fading away. In that intimate space, they found solace in each other, the love they shared radiating like a comforting blanket. As they lay entwined, they both knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together, united as a family.

—

Jeyce lay sprawled on his bed, holding his phone up as he FaceTimed with Demi. She was propped up against her pillows, lying in her own bed, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders. The soft glow from her bedside lamp gave her an almost ethereal look.

“So… how is your family… blended?” Demi asked, her curiosity evident.

Jeyce took a deep breath, wondering how to put it into words. “Well, my brother Jaciyah told me that our dad just… fell out of love with our mom. And then he met Rhea—my bonus mom, Rhea Ripley.” He added the last part a bit shyly, as if he wasn’t sure how Demi would take it.

Demi’s eyes widened, a sparkle of excitement flickering in them. “Rhea Ripley? Like, the Rhea Ripley?”

Jeyce chuckled, nodding. “Yeah, she’s my bonus mom.”

Demi sighed wistfully, resting her chin on her hand. “I’d be happy every day if that was my bonus mom. My bonus dad is… well, he’s kind of a jerk.”

Jeyce’s expression softened with sympathy. “Why doesn’t your sister live with you?”

Demi shrugged, looking down briefly. “She wanted to live with my mom and my bonus dad in New Haven. So now it’s just me, my dad, and our cat, Thunder.” She gave him a small, reassuring smile. “It’s not so bad, though. Thunder keeps me company when I need it.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Jeyce said quietly, realizing how hard it must be for Demi to feel separated from her family.

Demi’s face brightened, her eyes warm. “It’s okay. At least we have each other, right?”

Jeyce felt his face heat up, his heart doing a little flip at her words. “Yeah… I’m glad we do.”

After a moment of silence, Jeyce finally gathered the courage to bring up what had been on his mind since this morning. “Uh, about… the kiss on the cheek?”

Demi’s cheeks tinged a light pink as she looked down, biting her lip. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I won’t do it again.”

Jeyce’s heart raced, and before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “No! I… I liked it.”

Demi’s eyes lit up, her shy smile returning. “Oh. Well, Friday… can we consider it as a… date?”

Jeyce stuttered, the nerves taking over. “Y-y-yeah! I mean, yes! Of course!”

Demi giggled at his adorable response, her eyes shining with excitement. “Great. It’s a date, then.”

They both fell into an easy silence, each lost in the thrill of this new, uncharted territory. Jeyce could feel his cheeks hurting from smiling, but he didn’t care. For the first time, he felt like he’d found someone who understood him, someone he could talk to about anything.

As they continued to chat, the worries of the day faded away, replaced by the warmth of young love and the comfort of knowing they were no longer alone.

—

Friday, January 31st, 2025 - 4:37 PM

Jeyce held both of Demi’s hands as they stood at their usual streetlamp post where the bus dropped them off each day. The late afternoon light cast a warm glow over them, and the anticipation in the air was palpable.

“I can’t wait to see you tonight,” Demi said, her voice light with excitement. She smiled up at him, her eyes twinkling. “My sister wants you at the house by 6:45.”

Jeyce’s heart fluttered as he nodded. “Perfect,” he replied, almost too quickly, eager to get the evening started. He leaned in and kissed her lightly on the cheek, a gesture that felt both sweet and thrilling.

“See you later,” Demi said, a soft smile on her lips. They exchanged one last look before going their separate ways.

Jeyce’s feet barely touched the ground as he sprinted home. His mind raced with thoughts of the night ahead. He couldn’t believe it. It was his very first date. His first date with his boo Demi. She was everything he liked—smart, funny, and incredibly beautiful.

Arriving at the house, he quickly entered the code to the gate, the familiar mechanical sound of the gate unlocking giving him a sense of urgency. He hurried up the pathway and through the front door, only to find his mom, Takecia, sitting at the kitchen table, chatting with Rhea and Jey.

“Hey, Mom? Where’s Jaciyah?” Jeyce asked, barely catching his breath from the run. His excitement was palpable, but he didn’t have time for pleasantries.

Jey raised an eyebrow, looking at his son with mock seriousness. “It’s not nice to just rush in and ask questions like that, Jeyce. Take a breath and talk to your mom properly.”

Jeyce, still jittery from the thoughts of the date, exhaled and quickly spilled out, “Everything’s fine at school, I learned my lesson, don’t hit anyone with lunch boxes, yada yada…” He paused for a breath, giving his mom a look. “Where’s Jaciyah?”

Takecia smiled warmly at her son, shaking her head with affection. “I love you too, son,” she teased. “He’s upstairs.”

Without another word, Jeyce darted up the stairs, his excitement pushing him to move faster. He reached his brother’s room in a matter of seconds. Jeyce knocked, then pushed the door open and closed it behind him. Jaciyah, looking a bit surprised but grinning, glanced up from his bed.

“I. NEED. A. FAVOR.” Jeyce demanded.

“Yo,” Jaciyah said, still setting his stuff down. “I’ve been gone for two weeks and the first thing you say to me is what? ‘I need a favor’?”

Jeyce grinned sheepishly but didn’t waste any time. “Yeah. I need a favor,” he repeated. He quickly crossed the room to his brother and gave him a brief, quick hug before continuing. “I have a date.”

Jaciyah raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “A date? With who? Is it someone I need to worry about?”

Jeyce laughed nervously. “No, it’s with Demi. She’s really cool, Jaciyah. You don’t know her, but I swear, she’s awesome. And…” He hesitated for a second before going on. “Uncle Joe sent me some money for this listening party she invited me to, but I need you to drive me there.”

Jaciyah stood up from his bed, crossing his arms and giving his younger brother a teasing look. “A listening party, huh? Sounds like a pretty big deal.” He walked over to his dresser, grabbing a hoodie. “Alright, alright, what’s the favor?”

“I need you to come with me,” Jeyce said, his face flushing with embarrassment but also genuine hope. “So that Dad or Rhea won’t get suspicious. Please, Jaciyah. I really need your help.”

Jaciyah raised his hands in mock surrender, laughing. “Alright, alright, I got you, little man. I’ll go with you. But you owe me one after this, you hear?”

Jeyce smiled, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise, you won’t regret it.”

Jaciyah smirked, looking at his younger brother with a mix of amusement and brotherly affection. “Alright, alright. We’ll get you to your date. But first, we gotta get you looking sharp. Can’t show up at this ‘listening party’ looking like a slob.”

Jeyce chuckled, following Jaciyah as he grabbed a couple of his clothes. “Thanks, bro. You’re the best.”

“The listening party’s attire is black,” Jeyce said. “I need to look good, you know?”

Jaciyah rifled through his clothes, looking for a nice shirt for Jeyce. Jaciyah said “Ah hah.” And he through the item at Jeyce. Jeyce looked at the black polo collared shirt Jaciyah, holding it up to his chest.

Jaciyah gave him a playful side-eye. “Yeah, I know, you don’t want to mess this up with Demi.” He tossed the shirt to Jeyce and then walked over to his dresser, flipping through his clothes. “Alright, you’re good to go on the shirt, but what about your hair?” Jaciyah looked at him, raising an eyebrow.

Jeyce hesitated for a second, scratching the back of his head. “Well… can you braid it?” He glanced over, half-embarrassed, but also really wanting to make a good impression.

Jaciyah chuckled and looked at the clock. “How long do we have?”

“About an hour,” Jeyce replied quickly.

Jaciyah gave him a look, sizing up the time. “It’s pushing it, but I can do about six cornrows,” he said, rummaging through his styling products. “It’ll have to do.”

Jeyce nodded, his eyes lighting up with relief. “That’s fine,” he said, sitting cross-legged on the floor, ready for his older brother’s work. “Thanks, Jaciyah. I really need to look good for this.”

As Jaciyah worked his fingers through Jeyce’s hair, weaving the strands into neat cornrows, Jeyce started talking about Demi. “She’s really cool,” Jeyce said, a smile spreading across his face as he thought about her. “She invited me to this listening party, and I really like her. She’s kind of… different from the other girls at school. She’s got this vibe, you know?”

Jaciyah nodded, focusing on his work, trying to get the braids just right. “Yeah, I can tell. But, come on, tell me more about her. You’ve been talking about her non-stop. What’s so special?”

Jeyce leaned back slightly, enjoying the rhythm of Jaciyah’s braiding as he continued. “She’s… just different. Not like the other girls at school. She’s got black hair, and she’s got this cool, mysterious vibe. And she’s just really smart. Like, she gets me, you know? She’s the first person in a long time that I’ve really clicked with.”

Jaciyah paused for a second, raising an eyebrow. “Sounds like she’s got you good. What about her sister? I heard you mention her. Is she going to the party too?”

Jeyce nodded, his heart still racing at the thought of Demi. “Yeah, her sister’s going to be the one driving us there. But, honestly, I don’t know much about her sister. Demi’s told me some things, but she keeps her pretty private.”

Jaciyah smirked, finishing up the final braid. “Alright, cool. But you know I gotta ask��how old is her sister?”

Jeyce frowned slightly, looking at his older brother. “I don’t know. But don’t spoil this for me, Jaciyah,” he said, his voice tinged with a hint of frustration. “I really like her, okay? This date means a lot to me. Please don’t mess it up.”

Jaciyah looked down at his little brother, realizing how serious Jeyce was about this. He softened his tone, giving him a rare moment of older brother wisdom. “I won’t mess it up, little man,” he said, smoothing down the last cornrow and giving Jeyce a pat on the head. “I’m just looking out for you. But, hey, don’t worry. You’ll do fine. Just be yourself. You’ve got this.”

Jeyce smiled, relieved to have Jaciyah’s support, even though his older brother still had his teasing ways. “Thanks, Jaciyah,” he said, standing up and looking at his reflection in the mirror. “I appreciate it. Now, let’s go make sure I’m on time. I’ve got a date to impress.”

—

Jeyce and Jaciyah made their way downstairs, their footsteps echoing through the house. Jaciyah, feeling a surge of confidence, looked over at his dad, Jey, who was lounging on the couch with Rhea and Takecia. Jaciyah cleared his throat and asked, “Hey, Dad, can I borrow the keys to the Mercedes?”

Jey chuckled, raising an eyebrow at his seventeen-year-old son’s request. “The keys to my Mercedes? Really? Takecia and Rhea… this boy said the keys to my Mercedes.”

Jaciyah didn’t miss a beat. “Yes, I’m serious. I’ve got… plans.”

Beside him, Jeyce nodded vigorously, backing up his brother’s request. “Yeah, we really need to go somewhere.”

Rhea, sitting close to Jey, exchanged a suspicious glance with Takecia. Takecia tilted her head and asked, “Where exactly are you boys planning on going?”

Thinking quickly, Jaciyah replied, “I saw a Pizza Hut nearby, and I was thinking of putting in an application. You know… part-time job and all.” He shrugged nonchalantly, trying to sound casual.

Rhea raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced, and turned her gaze to Jeyce. “Uh-huh. And what about you, Jeyce?” She looked him up and down, taking in his freshly braided hair and sharp outfit. “Why is your hair braided, and why are you all dressed up?”

Jeyce froze, trying to think of an excuse that wouldn’t tip them off. Suddenly, inspiration struck, and he blurted out, “I’m going through puberty, and I just… want to look nice. You know, like… feel good about myself.”

That answer seemed to catch the adults off guard, and they exchanged confused glances, unsure of how to respond. Takecia and Rhea glanced at each other, while Jey shifted uncomfortably, clearly unsure how to address the sudden topic of puberty.

Jeyce saw his chance and leaned in, doubling down. “Yeah, I’m going through puberty. And it’s hitting me hard. Like, really hard. So, you know, just… trying to look my best.”

Jey scratched the back of his neck, clearly out of his depth. “Uh… well… alright then,” he stammered, glancing at Rhea, who shrugged. He nodded toward the counter. “The keys are over there.”

Before they could ask any more questions, Jeyce and Jaciyah quickly called out their goodbyes and dashed toward the garage, trying to stifle their laughter until they were out of earshot.

As they climbed into the Mercedes, Jaciyah looked over at Jeyce with a smirk. “Puberty, huh? That was quick thinking.”

Jeyce grinned, buckling his seatbelt. “Hey, it worked, didn’t it?”

Jaciyah chuckled as he turned the key in the ignition, the car purring to life. “Alright, little Romeo, let’s go impress your girl.”

[pearls-n-opulence]

Roan de Arc

[itneverendshere]

I love bartender!reader!!!!!! She seems so sweet and collected...but I was wondering if she's got a little fire in her? Maybe they're at a party together and she gets jealous......which is new because she's usually the calm one out of her and rafe. Hope you're doing great <3

loved writing this bc you're so right!!! it's just so not like her to lose her temper over trivial things but oh🫣 hope you're doing just a great as well💖

i'm usually so unproblematic - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) warnings: allusions to smut but no actual smut.

You’re sitting in Rafe’s truck, staring out at the huge house in front of you, stomach in knots. It’s a mansion, more like.

Kook house. Kook party. Rich people everywhere. You can already hear the distant thrum of music, even from inside the car, bass-heavy, vibrating through the seats.

You chew your bottom lip and glance over at Rafe. He’s calm, casually messing with the radio, probably about to put on those trashy songs he loves that you absolutely hate but pretend to like because you love him.

It's insane how easy it is for him to just... be cool about this. But you?

You’re not so sure.

"This was a bad idea," you mumble, half-joking but also half-serious.

Rafe turns to you, one eyebrow raised, lips pulling into a crooked smile. “Nervous?”

You give him a look. “Obviously. I’m not...I don’t do these things. I don’t know these people.”

You’ve been with Rafe for almost a year now, give or take. Said your I love yous, met each other’s families. Hell, you’ve spent more time at Tannyhill than at your own place lately, and you’ve grown used to Rafe’s kook side. His friends, though? These parties? A whole other beast.

“I already met Topper. Isn’t that enough?”

He laughs under his breath, reaching over to take your hand. “You’ll be fine. It’s Kelce, and a few other people. No big deal.”

No big deal, you think. Easy for him to say when he’s been around these people his whole life. For you, being a pogue, working extra shifts at the country club just to pay rent… yeah, this is a little different.

“I know, I know. I’ll be fine. It’s just— I’m out of my element.”

He squeezes your hand. “Hey. You’re with me. That’s all that matters.” 

You’re with Rafe. The Rafe who loves you, who can’t keep his hands off you even when you’re just watching movies. The Rafe who gets jealous over dumb things, like if you laugh too hard at one of JJ’s jokes, even though he’s just your seventeen-year-old neighbor. The Rafe who texts you goodnight, even when you’re in the same room, because he’s a sap and you secretly love it.

“Alright, let’s go,” you agree, trying to hype yourself up.

Rafe smiles, and then he’s out of the truck, jogging over to your side to open the door for you, like a perfect gentleman. You roll your eyes but step out, the night air brushing your bare shoulders. You weren’t sure how to dress for this party, so you chose to wear something…safe. A pretty red top you only used on special occasions and your best demim skirt. It wasn’t exactly kook material but at least you weren’t in your worn-out shorts and usual crop top or in your work uniform.

The moment you walk inside, though, it’s like stepping into a different world. The house is packed. People everywhere, laughing, drinking, hanging by the pool. Everything’s pristine and polished, and you feel their eyes on you the second you walk in.

Rafe wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close. “Want a drink?” he asks, leaning down so you can hear him over the music.

You nod, trying not to let the fact that people are definitely staring at you freak you out. You’re not a Kook. You’re his girl, though, and you know how much that pisses some of them off.

A few minutes later, you’ve got a drink in hand, and Kelce’s talking your ear off about something you don’t really understand. Golf. You smile and nod along, doing your best to keep up, but the truth is, you’re not listening. You’re too busy watching the crowd, still feeling like you don’t fit in. Like you never really will.

That’s when you notice her. Tall. Pretty, in that rich, polished way that’s almost too perfect. And she’s glaring. Right. At. You.

Your stomach drops, and you tear your eyes away, sipping your drink to cover the dread that suddenly hits you. You don’t know who she is, but she’s been staring at you since you walked in, and it’s starting to mess with your head. Was there something on your face? Had you met before at the club? Maybe she didn't like your drinks.

“Baby, you okay?” Rafe’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, his hand resting on the small of your back.

“Yeah, fine,” you lie, forcing a smile. He frowns slightly but doesn’t push it. Kelce’s still talking, oblivious.

You try to ignore it, but as the night goes on, she keeps popping up. Always staring. Always with that look crazied in her eyes. Like she could kill you. You’ve had a couple drinks by now, and your nerves are turning into a kind of irritation.

Finally, you excuse yourself to the bathroom, needing a break from the overwhelming feeling of being watched. You lock the door behind you, exhaling slowly as you stare at your reflection. Were you seeing things? Overreacting? Surely, Rafe or Kelce would’ve noticed as well, right? Or maybe they were used to this. 

I’m just overthinking it, you tell yourself. I’m fine. She’s just..

But when you open the door to leave, she’s there. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, staring at you with that same stupid look, like you personally offended her by daring to exist. 

“Can I help you?” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

She doesn’t smile. Doesn’t even flinch. Just tilts her head, giving you the most disgusted once-over you’ve ever seen in your life. “You’re Rafe’s new thing, huh?”

What? You’ve had just enough to drink that your filter is basically nonexistent now. You blink, confusion killing the buzz in your head. “Sorry, do I know you?”

“No,” she says, her voice dripping with disdain. “But I know you.”

You laugh awkwardly, nothing about this is funny. “Okay? So what’s your problem?”

Her eyes narrow, lips tinted pink curling. Oh, she’s mad now. She steps up closer to you, practically chest-to-chest. “My problem is that I don’t get why someone like you is with Rafe. He used to have a certain standard.”

Oh.

You almost laugh again because...wow. Really? That’s what this is about? “Okay, Regina George,” you mutter under your breath. You’re not in the mood for this. You tilt your head, giving her your best innocent smile.  “And who are you?”

“Sophie. I dated Rafe for two years, before you, obviously,” she says, like that’s supposed to mean something. You didn’t know him back then, you hadn’t even spoken a word to him. "Guess he didn’t mention me."

His ex. Of course. Of course she’s his ex. 

You snort before you can stop yourself. "Nope, pretty sure he forgot to bring you up.”

You feel a little sting of jealousy in your chest, but you try to swallow it down. You’re not about to let this girl get under your skin. You’re better than that. You didn’t know him, it’s fine.

 “I’m not really interested in whatever this is.” You move to step around her, but she blocks your path.

“Just a word of advice,” she grits out, like you’ve personally offended her, “He’s not the kind of guy who sticks around for long. Especially not with girls like you.”

That does it. The alcohol, the nerves, the whole night—you’re seconds away from losing it. “What the hell is your problem?” you snap, your hands curling into fists at your sides.

“Dirty pogues who think—”

"Okay. I’m not gonna play whatever this is with you," you interrupt her, gesturing between the two of you, stepping forward so you’re toe-to-toe with her now. "If he wanted to be with a walking Vineyard Vines ad, he would be. But he’s not. He’s with me."

“You really think you’re different?” she spits, voice laced with venom. "Like you're special?"

Your laugh comes out sharp, more of a bark. “If you were so special, you wouldn’t be here, playing guard dog outside the bathroom. Move."

“Or what?” she challenges, her lips curling in that same superior smirk that makes your blood boil. “What are you gonna do, pogue?”

That’s it. You feel the fire flare up in your chest. Screw this girl. Your hands ball into fists, and you’re half a second from knocking that smug look right off her face when Topper steps in.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, let’s not turn this into Jerry Springer, alright?" He holds up his hands like he’s breaking up a fight at a middle school dance. You’re staring daggers at Sophie, and she’s glaring right back, but his hands are still up, a peacekeeper grin plastered across his face as he looks between the two of you. “Let’s not do this,” his eyes landing on Sophie. “C’mon, Soph, no need for the drama, yeah?”

She scoffs, crossing her arms and stepping back with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “Whatever, Topper.

He watches her go before turning back to you, eyebrows raised. “You good?”

You nod, still fuming, but grateful he stepped in when he did. "Yeah. Thanks."

You let him take you away because if he doesn’t, you're going to follow her and throw a drink in her face or do something worse. You feel like you could punch her right in her perfect, stuck-up face. 

He leads you back to where Rafe is, and you’re too upset to even look at him. His hands are on you the second you’re close, pulling you to him like he can tell something’s off. "Baby," his lips brush against your temple. "What’s wrong? You look like you’re ready to kill someone."

You don’t answer. You can’t. Not without completely blowing up.

Rafe’s brow furrows, his eyes darting between you and Topper. “What the hell happened?” he asks again, more forceful this time.

Topper gives him a look but doesn’t say anything, just shrugs. “Nothing, man. Just some girl drama. Don’t worry about it.”

Girl drama your ass.

He turns to you, and suddenly, he’s all over you, his hands on your waist, the other settling on the back of your head, “Baby, talk to me. What’s going on?”

You pull away, shaking your head, still too mad to speak.

He follows, his hands reaching for yours. “Hey, c’mon.”

Finally, you look at him. Really look at him. And the second you see his face, that stupid, worried puppy-dog expression, the anger starts to melt away.

“I’m mad,” you admit, “I got jealous. Your ex’s a bitch.”

Rafe blinks, and then, to your surprise, he laughs. A real, genuine laugh. You glare at him. “It’s not funny!”

“No, no, it’s not,” he says, quickly sobering, though there’s still a stupid smirk at his lips. “I just, I’ve never seen you jealous before.”

You cross your arms, still pouting. “I’m serious, Rafe. She was awful.”

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. “I don’t care about her. At all. I care about you.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart is softening. “She said you wouldn’t stick around.”

Rafe’s smile fades, and he pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes. “That’s bullshit. You know that, right?”

"She’s a psycho.”

Rafe’s expression changes, his frown deepening. "Sophie?"

"Yeah," you snap, because you hate the sound of her name coming out of his lips, "Sophie. Called me a dirty pogue, which—real original.”

“She what?” Rafe’s jaw tightens, and for a second, you see a flash of that old Rafe—the one who’d get into fights at the drop of a hat. "I’ll handle it.”

You’ve seen it before—his protective streak, the one that could turn dangerous if he wasn’t careful. Part of you loves it, the way he’d go to war for you without even blinking. But another part of you hates that you have so much power over him.

But right now, you’re still too mad to care about him handling anything. You push past him, heading for the exit, needing air, needing space. Everything inside you is on fire, and all you can think is that you need to get out. Anything but this house full of people who make you feel like you’re just dirt. People like her. You can’t stop hearing her nasal voice in your head, those snide comments digging into you like little needles, bringing up that same old insecurity.

“Baby, hold on,” His voice is behind you, and his hand is instantly catching yours, tugging you back before you can make it to the door.

You spin around, already ready to snap, but then you see his face—eyes wide, brow furrowed like he’s genuinely freaked out that you’re upset. “Don’t listen to her, she’s full of shit.”

You stare at him, your chest tight and aching, because yeah, you know she’s full of it, but it still got to you. It still hurt. “It just…” You swallow hard, trying to find the right words, even though everything feels like a mess. “It got in my head, Rafe. Like, I hate that she said that. I’m so sick of people looking at me like I don’t belong just because I’m not—”

He cuts you off, stepping closer, and before you can even finish the thought, he's dragging you into him. “You belong with me. That’s all that matters.”

You let out a breath, but you’re still worked up, “But it’s like—I don’t need some stuck-up kook girl who thinks she’s better than me telling me I don’t fit in. I know I’m not like them, but she said it like I wasn’t good enough for you. Like I’m just some—”

Rafe’s lips are on yours before you can finish. He only pecks you, but it’s enough to shut you up, to make your brain go silent for a second. “Stop,” his voice is almost pleading. “Stop thinking like that. I love you, okay? I don’t care what anyone else says.”

You blink up at him, you want to stay mad, but also want to let it go because he’s right here, so close, and he’s got that look on his face that makes your heart flip. “You don’t get it.”

He pulls you closer, hands gripping your hips like he can’t stand to have any space between you. “Then tell me,” he murmurs, pressing another kiss to your lips. “Tell me why you’re letting her get in your head.”

You huff, but the fight in you is starting to die out. “Because she made me feel like I’m less.”

He tilts your head back just enough to look at you, “That’s bullshit,” his fingers are gentle as they trail up your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You feel a little stupid for letting that girl get to you in the first place. But damn it, you’ve heard it before—from other people, from yourself—that nagging voice that says you’re not enough.

“I know.” you mumble though you’re still a little embarrassed.

Rafe smiles then, that sweet smile he only ever gives you, and he presses his lips to your forehead. “Good,” he says, tugging you even closer, like he’s trying to wrap himself around you. “Because I’m obsessed with you, and I don’t care what her or anyone else says.”

You let out a shaky laugh, finally letting yourself relax in his arms. “You’re obsessed with me?” you tease, tilting your head to meet his eyes.

“Hell yeah,” he grins, his hands sliding up your back, one hand slipping down to squeeze your ass, his thumb sliding just under the hem of your skirt. “I can’t keep my hands off you. You know that. It’s becoming a real problem.”

You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool, but you don’t stop the giggle from bubbling out. The way he’s looking at you right now, like he can’t even think straight because you’re standing in front of him—it drives you up the walls. Then he leans down and kisses you again, and this time it’s not...casual. His lips move against yours like he’s trying to take every thought in your head, and it’s working. Your hands slide up, wrapping around his neck as his tongue brushes against yours. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to this. 

He grips you harder, lips moving to brush against your ear, “You’re mine, baby and I’m not fucking going anywhere.”

That hits you, hard, like a truth he always reassures you off but still feels brand new when he does say it. Everything that pissed you off, all the crap Sophie said, it doesn’t matter anymore. 

“Stop making me horny,” You whine out, tugging at his shirt and pulling him closer. You can feel his grin against your skin as he leans in, biting your lip playfully before kissing you again, you know he’s enjoying teasing you. His hand slides down to grab a handful of your ass again, making you gasp against his mouth, and you feel him smirk.

“I like you horny.”

You’re in the middle of this stupid party, surrounded by people who probably hate you for breathing, but all you can think about is how much you want him right now. His lips move over yours like he’s trying to claim you, and you’re more than happy to let him. It’s messy, all tongues and spit, but you don’t care. You love how rough and needy he is, how he groans into your mouth like he’s been dying to kiss you all night. It’s the kind of kiss that leaves you dizzy, the room spinning, and you’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or him—or both.

You tug at his shirt, frustrated with how much fabric is in the way, and he chuckles against your mouth, biting down on your bottom lip just hard enough to make you gasp. His hands slide down up to your neck, tightening just enough around your throat, and you let out a soft whimper into his mouth, making him grin.

“You're just so—” his lips brush over your cheek, then down to your bottom lip, kissing and biting just hard enough to make you squirm, "Beautiful, aren't you?"

You’re normally not one for pda, not at all. The idea of people watching, of eyes on you while you're with someone, always made your skin crawl. But when Rafe kisses you like this? When he’s got his hands on you? God, your brain just goes dumb, and every ounce of self-consciousness fizzes out. It's embarrassing, almost. All you can think about is the way he’s making you feel, the way he’s holding you against him, leaving you breathless and wanting more. You’re so not this person, not the girl who makes out with her boyfriend in the middle of a crowded room.

But with Rafe? You can’t even think straight. 

His hands slide under your skirt for the millionth time, blunt fingernails gripping your plushy thighs, and you nearly whine, “Rafe,” you breathe, trying to pull away long enough to think properly, but he just kisses you harder, more insistent. “Baby, stop,” you manage to whisper, though you don’t mean it at all.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes all dark, his breath hot against your lips. “You want me to stop?” he teases, his hands still tight on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin in a way that makes your knees go weak.

You shake your head, biting your lip, and his grin widens. “Didn’t think so,” he murmurs before leaning in to kiss you again, like he can’t help himself, and honestly? Neither can you. You’re so turned on, it’s ridiculous. 

“I—fuck,” you pant, trying to get the words out between kisses, but he’s relentless, pressing you back against a wall, his lips latching on to your neck, sucking a bruise into your skin “Baby, please—”

He groans against your neck, one hand sliding up under your top, fingers brushing the bare skin of your waist, and you swear you’re about to lose it. “Please what, hmm?”

You bite your lip, trying to stay composed, but you’re way past that now. All you can think about is how much you need him. Right now. Anywhere but here.

“Take me to the truck,” you nearly beg him, just loud enough for him to hear, but you know he catches it because he pulls back just enough to look at you, pupils blown wide.

He smirks, running his thumb over your bottom lip, teasing. “Yeah? You need me that bad?”

You nod, not even caring how desperate you sound. “Please.” Your voice cracks a little on the last word, but you don’t care anymore.

You need him, and you need him now.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀

Forty minute later, the air inside the truck reeks of sex.

You’re breathless, flushed all over, and your legs feel like jelly. Rafe’s next to you, grinning like an idiot already fixing his jeans like he’s not still catching his breath. It’s written all over you—the tousled hair, the smudged lipstick, the way your top is barely hanging on properly as you try to straighten it out, the stickiness you can still feel between your legs, on your panties.

You feel filthy.

You bite back a smile as you adjust your skirt, your body still recovering from the way he had your face pressed against the seat.  

“Shit,” you breathe out, trying to get it together, your fingers fumbling to fix your bra strap, “I feel like my makeup’s a mess.”

He just chuckles, leaning back in his seat with that cocky look that made you want to jump him in the first place, “You look perfect,” he says, eyeing you up and down like he’s ready to go another round.

You roll your eyes but can’t help the heat that rises to your cheeks. “Yeah, well, you look like you just ran a marathon.”

He laughs, reaching over to pull you close, his lips pecking your hair, “Worth it.”

You’re just about to leave the truck when the door opens, and as you both step out, you catch sight of Sophie and her friends walking past. Perfect timing. Of course.

She’s glaring—hard—and her friends are snickering, whispering to each other like they’ve just seen something they shouldn't. Sophie’s nose wrinkles as her gaze flicks between you and Rafe, her expression twisting into disgust like you’re both some kind of wild animals who just rolled around in the mud.

But you? You feel smug.

You meet her stare for a second too long, the corner of your mouth lifting in the tiniest, most satisfied smirk. You know she knows exactly what just happened in that truck, and it’s killing her. She’s practically seething, her friends muttering furiously under their breath as they walk by, noses in the air.

Rafe doesn’t even glances their way—his fingers hook into one of the belt loops of your skirt, tugging you back to him with just enough force to make you stumble slightly into his built chest, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And it is.

“Thirty more minutes,” he murmurs against your cheek, planting a kiss there, casual but so possessive, his lips lingering just long enough to make your stomach shake with butterflies again, "And I'm taking you home."

And that’s what makes it even sweeter.

[adrienneleclerc]

Do you think you can do a imagine Lewis Hamilton

and Lewis goes to get a new tattoo and YN and is the tattoo artist

🇲🇽🫶🥰😘

Ooh okay, I love the idea, sorry it took so long

Love In Ink

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Tattoo Artist! Reader

Summary: Lewis wants a new tattoo during summer break, Lando recommends him someone

Warning: spelling and grammatical errors

Lewis got home after the Belgian Grand Prix and started thinking about something Lando has told him in the cool down room a while back.

“I was thinking about getting a new tattoo.” Lewis commented to Lando.

“Oh, you should go to Oly Anger Tattoo in Montreal, that’s where Zak got his tattoo. It turned out pretty well actually.” Lando said.

“Mate, I am not going all the way to Canada for a tattoo, that’s doing too much.” Lewis said.

“Yeah but the artist who did Zak’s tattoo said that he got his start at this tattoo shop in New York, don’t you have an apartment there?” Lando asked.

And that’s how Lewis ended up flying with Roscoe to New York, which he immediately regretted because of how humid New York is during the summer. He left Roscoe on his New York apartment and walked into the tattoo shop.

“Hello, I’m here to make an appointment.” Lewis said. That’s when the owner of the tattoo shop, Y/N, makes her appearance after replacing the needle on her tattoo gun.

“What are you looking to get done?” Y/N asked.

“Um, I have some free space on my left arm, I was thinking of adding something.” Lewis said.

“Do you have something in mind or did you want to look in the books?” Y/N asked.

“Can I look in the books?” Lewis asked.

“By all means, go ahead, sir Hamilton.” Y/N said, gesturing to the table.

“You know who I am?” Lewis asked, looking through the pages of Y/N’s tattoo portfolio.

“I am an avid F1 fan. I’m going to Monza and I am so excited.” Y/N said.

“Why Monza?” Lewis asked.

“As a Ferrari fan, going to Monza would be fucking amazing.” Y/N said.

“Oh, You’re rooting for Ferrari.” Lewis said.

“Yeah, I’m part of the tifosi. Now did you pick out a tattoo?” Y/N asked,

“I haven’t yet.” Lewis said.

“Take your time, we could either do it today because I just had a cancellation before you came in, or we can schedule an appointment.” Y/N said.

After a few minutes of looking, Lewis decided on a tattoo.

“Ah, good choice, very popular. Do you want it to today?” Y/N asked.

“Yes, please, since you have time.” Lewis said.

“Sure thing. Go to the bathroom before I set you up in the back. If you want, you can choose what music to play on my speaker.” Y/N said.

“You play music while you’re working?” Lewis asked.

“It’s not loud, I just need background music sometimes, ya know.” Y/N said.

Lewis went to the bathroom, did his thing, came back and saw Y/N wiping down the chair, getting out the stencil and everything.

“My phone is connected so just tell me what artist you wanna listen to.” Y/N said.

“Nah, it’s your place, we can listen to your music.” Lewis said.

“Cool, let’s get this show on the road.” Y/N said. Y/N wiped Lewis’s skin with alcohol. “How do you want the stencil placed? Just tell me where to move it.”

“A little to the left, lower, perfect.” Lewis said, Y/N placed the stencil on his arm and peeled it off. She got the tattoo gun and dipped the needle in black ink to complete the outline of the tattoo. Once the outline was done, she switched the tattoo needle on her tattoo gun and started shading in the tattoo.

“You’re good! Now I just have to wrap up the tattoo. You’ve had many tattoos done before so I don’t need to tell you how to take care of it.” Y/N said, getting the Saran Wrap to wrap up the tattoo.

“Thank you very much, how much is it?” Lewis asked. Y/N came back with the Saran Wrap,

“250 since you were a last minute client.” Y/N said, wrapping his tattoo.

“Seems reasonable.” Lewis said.

“Okay, let me ring you up.” Y/N said. They went to the cash register, Lewis paid, and he left the shop.

The next day, Lewis was walking Roscoe when he stopped in front of the tattoo shop.

“What do you say, Roscoe? You want to visit the woman I met yesterday?” Lewis asked Roscoe. “Yeah, Let’s go in.” So Lewis walked in and he saw Y/N finishing up with a client

“Hey man, there’s no dogs allowed here.” Y/N said until she saw the owner. “Oh it’s Roscoe!” Y/N cooed at the bulldog. “But seriously, Lewis, you can’t have him here, it’s a tattoo shop, tattoos are basically open wounds, he can’t be here.”

“Oh, Can we talk outside then?” Lewis asked.

“Sure, let me just wrap her wrist, okay?” Y/N said. Lewis left the shop and 5 minutes later, Y/N walked out but she squatted down to pet Roscoe. “What did you want to talk about? Don’t tell me I messed up your tattoo.”

“You didn’t, It’s perfect, I just wanted to ask you a few questions.” Lewis asked.

“Go ahead but I can’t promise I’ll truly listen,” Y/N said, putting all her attention in Roscoe.

“Are you seeing anyone?” Lewis asked.

“Nope, not at all.” Y/N said.

“How do you feel about age gaps?” Lewis asked.

“I Don’t mind them, I always had a thing for older men.” Y/N said.

“Would you go out with me?” Lewis asked, Y/N looked up from Roscoe and stood up to face Lewis.

“Are you serious?” Y/N asked.

“I am.” Lewis asked.

“I’d love to. I close my shop at around 11, what do you think we can do?” Y/N asked.

“Well i could cook Dinner at my apartment. Nice and intimate.” Lewis said.

“Sounds perfect. I have another client in 15 minutes, pass me your oh one so I can give you my number.” Y/N said so Lewis handed her his phone and she put her phone number in with her name, and took a selfie to use as the contact photo. “Here you go, text me when you’re outside.”

“Can’t wait for tonight, let’s go, buddy.” Lewis said and he walked away with Roscoe.

The End

Hope y’all liked it!

[liillyliilly]

Her Laughter

tsukishima kei x reader words; 9093 synopsis; They had been friends for too long. She knew too much. He knew too little.

Tsukishima was used to the attention he got from girls. It came with having an aura that practically screamed unattainable. It lured in confident women that thought they could break down his façade of seriousness. So, if he was feeling up to it, he would mess with them. Toy with their feelings before dropping them and picking up a new little game to play.

This annoyed the living hell out of y/n. Which pushed Tsukishima to continue what he did. It seemed like he got a nice rise out of seeing how pissed he could make y/n. Seeing as they were seatmates, it felt as if she was constantly trapped and suffocated by every new girl that tried to win his affections.

The pair even had to spend a large portion of their time with each other outside of school. Having her mom being extremely close friends with Mrs. Tsukishima sure messed up a large portion of the girl’s life. Yet, there was one Tsukishima family member that actually seemed to be a normal person. Akiteru. Akiteru was probably the longest crush that y/n had ever had. From the beginning of her first year at Karasuno High School, which was Akiteru’s third year, to currently as a third year practically infatuated with a university second year. But for some reason, her crush felt hollow. But she didn’t mind it so long as she still was happy when Akiteru was nice to her.

Tsukishima wasn’t oblivious to the way y/n acted around his brother, not by any means. If anything, Tsukishima was always aware of how y/n acted and felt. Whether she was happy, sad, or yes, even trying to flirt with his own brother.

“Wow! That’s so cool! But that sounds like an awful lot of work.” Y/n currently was resting her head in her hands as she pressed her elbows against the kitchen counter top, watching Akiteru making some stovetop ramen for dinner.

“No rest for the wicked huh?” Akiteru stirred the pot of noodles. His joking words causing y/n to laugh. Tsukishima was in a mood, sitting on the couch scrolling through the movie catalog. His ears finely tuned to the conversation happening nearly seven feet away from him. He was chewing on the inside of his cheek, biting down any words that threatened to bubble up from his throat.

He was the one that wanted to make y/n laugh like that, like she was lovesick and drunk on her own delight. He had managed to do that three times.

The first time was a long time ago, when they were both around eight years old.

“Kei, Kei, Kei, Ke-” Y/n was poking Tsukishima in the leg with a stick that she had found on the hike their families currently were walking on. The parents and Akiteru were walking far behind the two young kids, talking about, ‘grown up stuff’.

“What!?” He pulled off his headphones, and made a big show of turning off the music on his hand-me-down iPod from Akiteru. He actually didn’t have any music playing, and was using his headphones as a way to listen to y/n ramble about the pets she wanted to own when she got older.

“I was just wondering if you were planning on adopting a dinosaur when you get older.” Y/n kicked a rock and it fell down the cliff, bumping into a few trees, causing y/n to shudder as she imagined what would happen if she fell down from this height.

“Yes. Yes, I am.” Tsukishima folded his arms, and turned his chin up.

“But aren’t all the dinosaurs’ dead?” Y/n dropped her stick, and opted for poking him in the chest with her pointer finger.

“When I become an archeologist, I’ll have Akiteru build me a machine to revive its bones. Then I’ll adopt it. Simple as that, stupid.”

“Stupid is a bad word Kei.”

“I don’t care.” Tsukishima had lightly pushed y/n on her shoulder. When she let out a scream, he knew that he messed shit up. He was sure that if he had known the word shit as an eight-year-old, he would have used it in this situation.

In one fluid motion, Tsukishima quickly grasped onto y/n’s hand and pulled her away from the edge and into his chest. When Y/n had started laughing, that same laugh that Tsukishima swore followed him in his dreams, Tsukishima raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Why are you laughing? You could have died y/n!” Tsukishima was still holding y/n close to him. He knew that she could probably hear his beating heart that was threatening to break his ribcage open.

“I’m laughing because you care about me Kei.” Y/n rubbed his head, effectively messing up his hair and messing up his composure. Tsukishima’s ears were red, and he was embarrassed but he was still refusing to let go of y/n, afraid that if he stopped hugging her, she would actually fall off of the cliff. And that he would lose her. As an eight-year-old, he silently promised himself that he would never, ever, lose her.

Akiteru set down the three bowls of ramen on the coffee table. He settled in on the left side of the couch. Tsukishima moved over from the right side so that he was in the middle, forcing y/n to sit on the right side, closer to him and away from Akiteru. Tsukishima prayed that his shuffling of the seating arrangement wasn’t scrutinized. When y/n opened her mouth, Tsukishima explained.

“You got the middle seat last week. It’s the best seat to watch movies. It's my turn.” Tsukishima laid back against the couch. Chewing on a bite of the noodles. Even though he was trying to outdo his brother for y/n’s attention, Tsukishima admitted that his brother made some killer ramen.

Y/n rolled her eyes and sipped on the noodle broth. When Tsukishima did the same his glasses fogged up from the heat that radiated from the soup. Akiteru's phone beeped, and when he opened and read the text he grimaced and let out a grumble.

“Sorry, I’ll have to reschedule movie night. Something came up at work. Manager needs me to cover for a flaky employee.” When Y/n shrugged, and stood up, Akiteru’s words rushed out. “No! I mean, no, L/n you should just stay. I mean, I know you were waiting all week to watch this movie, I would just hate to prolong your waiting.”

“No, it’s fine I can wait.” Y/n smiles as she reaches for her bag.

“I insist. Please, I need someone to watch Kei. I’m asking you, l/n, to please help me out here and just watch the movie.” Akiteru took her bag away and ran into the kitchen, setting the bag above the cabinets. Far from y/n’s reach. Only Tsukishima or Akiteru could reach up there. Y/n gasped and hit Akiteru in his arm.

“Akiteru!”

“Sorry, I don’t make the rules. Gotta go! Bye Kei! Have a goodnight!” Akiteru rushed out of the door and shut it with a light slam.

“Honestly, L/n, Akiteru paid for the movie. Just swallow your pride and watch it with me.” Tsukishima explained from his spot.

“Fine. I just have to use the bathroom real quick, and then we can watch it.” Y/n’s feet lightly pattered against the floor. Tsukishima let out a breath, putting a hand to his chest, sliding down the couch to slump in exhaustion. His phone buzzed, and as he read the message, he truly didn’t know if he wanted to punch or hug his brother.

Have fun, relax, and be polite to L/n. I think it's weird how Karasuno’s biggest playboy is a complete idiot when it comes to real feelings :0

The second time Tsukishima made Y/n laugh was when they were fourteen.

Y/n was sitting at the white clothed table, wearing the pink lacy dress her parents had picked out for her to wear at the wedding. They picked out pink lace because it matched with the bowtie Tsukishima’s parents had bought him. The wedding was for Y/n’s parents' cousin-in-law’s step-sibling's aunt. Playing with the fabric of his tie, Tsukishima continuously tried peaking glances at y/n. Her hair was done in a way that made him feel like he was on cloud nine. Her features looked unamused and bored, she seemed to be passing the time by seeing how slowly she could drink her glass of cranberry juice.

After the ceremony, and after the first dance, was when the boredom hit Tsukishima as well. Tsukishima had given up on trying to be discreet and decided to keep staring at y/n. Tsukishima followed her eyeline, to realize she was staring at the glass of champagne the newly wed wife was holding.

At this point in his life, Tsukishima had very poor impulse control. And his hormones were raging, or at least that’s what his mom said to him when he told her that he felt all fuzzy whenever Y/n hung out with him. Thinking, that if he managed to steal a bottle and share it with Y/n, then she would finally admit to having a crush on him, or something.

“Psst. Hey, Y/n.” Tsukishima kicked her chair lightly.

“What do you need Tsukki?” When Y/n turned around in her chair and faced him, he swallowed roughly and grabbed her hand pulling her up and into the chapel.

“Tsukki? What are you doing?” Tsukishima sat down in one of the pews, Y/n sitting down right next to him.

“Waiting for you to thank me profusely.” Tsukishima gave a smirk and wiggled his head in a teasing manner.

“Why would I be than-” Tsukishima pulled out the bottle of red wine he managed to snag from the kitchens. Y/n jaw dropped as she held the cold bottle in her hands.

“How did you...” She trailed off.

“I have my ways.” He shrugged as he snagged the bottle away and twisted the cap off. Taking a swig from the bottle, he puckered his lips together at the tart taste. His throat felt dry and scratchy. The drink made his mouth feel grainy.

“It can't be that bad, you big baby.” Y/n took it from him and took an equally large drink. When she coughed and hit her chest a few times, Tsukishima laughed, holding his stomach from how it was constricting due to his laughing.

They threw away the bottle by dumping the rest of the alcohol down the sink of the church bathroom. As they sat with their backs to the door, the dizziness of being drunk for the first time hit them both with a heavy wave.

“Y/n. I reaaalllyyy like you. I like you soooo much. It’s like my heart can’t even handle it.” He hiccupped. He rested his head in her lap, y/n twirled his blonde locks.

“Is that so?”

“Yuppers.”

Y/n laughed, slowly and quietly at first. Growing into a loud rumble that caused Tsukishima to feel like he could die right then and feel totally complete.

“Kei, we are so getting grounded.” Y/n rubbed her eyes, before her hand retreated back into his hair.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“You haven’t called me Kei since we were twelve and it's really hurting my feelings.” Tsukishima admitted.

“Oh, sorry. I’ll try calling you Kei more then.”

She didn’t even try to call him Kei. From age fourteen to now, it was only Tsukishima or in rare cases of friendly compassion a short and sweet Tsukki. When Tsukishima admitted that it hurt his feelings, he was being honest, and it still rang true.

Tsukishima was staring at the TV much harder than needed. He tried not to pay attention to all the little things Y/n was doing. The way she was breathing, and how it would hitch when the movie got intense, or how it would come out in a longing sigh during the romantic parts. The way she shifted her feet under her and how the couch would dip and move from her toes moving around in her socks. When the credits started to roll, y/n was snoring quietly, resting her head on the armchair hugging herself loosely.

Tsukishima wanted to kiss her.

Wanted to feel the way her soft looking lips would feel against his probably slightly chapped ones. He wanted her to put both of her hands on his head curling her fingers through his hair. Wanted to wrap his arms around her waist and never let go like when he was eight and had fallen in love. Wanted to giggle and be stupid with her like when they were fourteen and he admitted his feelings for her but she didn’t even notice because she was so far gone from the wine. Wanted to be close to her. Wanted to stop entertaining all the girls that filtered through his life like her current favorite song that changed every day.

Tsukishima wanted to stop being so dry witted and mean to her in class. He wanted to stop her from looking at him with her sad eyes when she tried comforting the last girl he had been talking to and then ghosted. He wanted to curl up in his bed and cry. He was tired, so tired of having to make her annoyed at him, but that was the only way to get her attention. He wanted her attention like he needed to breathe. Like she needed to be kind to others. Like Akiteru needed to be supportive and an example. Like everyone on his volleyball team needed to always try their best during games.

The third time that Tsukishima made Y/n laugh was when they were fifteen.

Class was slow. The windows were clouded and the corners fogged up every time someone exhaled. Outside, heavy rain was falling. Most kids had decided to skip school for the day in favor of staying comfortable in their pajamas' watching cartoons or doing homework for other missed classes. Yamaguchi was at home, he had texted Tsukishima saying that he should just come hang out with him, but Tsukishima had already received a text from his mom that he needed to walk home with Y/n because her family hadn’t bought any umbrellas and she would need to walk home with him.

Class was over and Y/n was frowning. The day was dreary because she couldn’t just sit outside and feel alive with the rain falling down her face. She loved the rain, and being stuck inside on such a perfect day for her was getting on her nerves. But also, the fact that she had to walk home with Tsukishima, who had been a real pain in the ass all week with his current girl. Tsukishima leaned against the lockers by the entrance as Y/n switched out of her school shoes into her normal flats.

“We’re gonna be late if you keep taking forever.”

“Late for what?”

“Late for me to care about you getting home dry any longer.” Tsukishima opened the umbrella and started making his way outside.

“Tsukishima!” Y/n groaned as she rushed to close her locker and match pace with the giant.

“Geez. You could have at the very least waited a minute longer.” She tugged her hood over her head.

Tsukishima stayed silent for most of the walk. When Y/n finally broke.

“If you aren't going to even try and make conversation, then just go ahead. I like the rain anyway.” Y/n folded her arms and huffed. She stopped walking and stood still. Tsukishima walked a bit further, just enough for Y/n to not be under the umbrella. When he noticed that she wasn’t next to his side, he stopped and went back for her, holding the umbrella over both of them as he faced her.

“I don’t have time for a Y/n tantrum. Let’s go.” He flatlined.

“And I don’t have time for a brooding Tsukishima.” Tsukishima felt his heartstrings pulling him closer to her. But he kept his distance.

“What’s up?”

“What?” Y/n shook her head, and tilted it at an angle that made Tsukishima want to put his hand on her cheek and run his thumb across her cheek.

“I'm not brooding right now. I’m talking to you right now. So, let's try again. What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Just wondering why, a close family friend of mine is acting like an asshole to all the girl’s in our grade.” Y/n stuffed her hands in her pockets. Bouncing back and forth on the heels of her feet.

Tsukishima held back a smirk. She was playing a game with him. “Maybe they're just acting like that because it’s a nice way to pass the time?”

“I don’t think it's that.” She took a step forward.

“Oh, its most likely that.” He took a step forward. He could see the white mist of her exhaled breath. He could see the slight repressed intrigue and curiosity swirl in her eyes. He wondered if she could hear his heartbeat. He wanted to grab her hand and press it against his chest and yell at her, telling her that she was the one making his head spin and making his knees feel like they would give out any second because they felt like jelly.

“Wanna know another way to pass the time?” She reached out for his hand. He froze, closing his eyes. Her next words were whispered close to his ear. “Having you chase me in the rain.”

She ripped the umbrella from his hand and ran. It took him a second to catch on. But when he did, he bolted forward. When she looked back, she screamed because he was closer than expected. And then she started laughing. The same laugh he had been longing to hear for over a year since the wine incident.

Suddenly, everything they were angry with each other disappeared. Y/n stopped thinking about how much of a dick he was to people. Tsukishima stopped thinking about how much of a scaredy-cat he was for not just being kind to Y/n. They were just two teenagers running in the rain. Hair getting soaked and sticking to their faces. Feet slipping slightly against the wet concrete. The rain hitting the ground.

They were just two kids in love with life.

They never talked about that day. They just knew it existed in their memories of each other, being stored in the filing cabinets of their life.

As Y/n was snuggled up against the couch, Tsukishima wanted to just hold her. The TV screen had gone black. The only light was the dim hanging light in the middle of the kitchen. And for the first time in a while, Tsukishima was okay with the amount of attention he got from Y/n. He didn’t want any more or any less. He was just glad that he had her in his life.

Maybe, just maybe, one day, he would finally be able to tell her that he no longer liked her. But he loved her.

Movie night still seemed to be the only thing on Tsukishima’s mind. Various scenarios of different endings to the scene played in his mind. His favorite being the one where y/n took the first move and admitted that her crush on Akiteru was just a front so that Tsukishima didn’t realize that she liked him back. Sadly, her crush was still very much real, and very much an annoyance to Tsukishima. Which resulted in him being extra responsive to the countless girls who approached him to admit their affections.

He liked to mess around with the idea that they were y/n. He would try to find a similar trait, a similar physical feature, a similar anything to y/n. So that even for just a minute, he could have her attention. Whenever Yamaguchi was absent to class, Tsukishima would just sit in his own seat and wear his headphones. One hand would be toying with the wires connected to either speaker, while his other hand would rest on the very edge of his desk.

It was a smart move on his part. Because then, he could listen to the conversations y/n had with her classmates and yet seem like he was completely ignorant to anything happening on her side of the connected desks. He felt guilty about eavesdropping as often as he did, but he tried to reason his actions with empty excuses.

“L/n, you always talk about how annoying Tsukishima is, so why don’t you just ask our teacher to just move your seat?” Some girl who had previously confessed to Tsukishima in private complained to y/n. Tsukishima could tell that y/n was uncomfortable, when the girl had come up to her and started ranting y/n only let out forced laughs and dry responses.

“Well, I guess you could say that even though everything he does makes him seem like a huge jerk, he is still my friend.” Y/n spoke. Now, in any other case Tsukishima would have felt like he was being stabbed in his heart when y/n called him her friend. But in this situation, he felt relieved. She was defending him, even if it seemed like a half-assed response to the girl’s thinly veiled insult.

That was what played in his mind during volleyball practice.

“Tsukki! Hey! Tsukki!” Yamaguchi made his way to Tsukishima, a small blue towel on the back of his neck to catch the sweat from all the physical activity. Yamaguchi pulled his hair out of the small ponytail, and ran his hand through it.

“Yes?” Tsukishima started to unwrap the bandages from his fingers, dropping the fabric into his duffel bag that laid below.

“You’re close with that L/n girl, right?” Tsukishima felt his heart start to pound in his chest.

“Our parents are close, so by association, I guess we’re fairly close.”

Tsukishima wanted to go on a rant about how long he had been invested in his friendship with her. How she always managed to make his day even when they were fighting. How she would spend countless hours wasting her time watching TV on his family’s couch while he sat in his bedroom listening to her scream at the television shows for having incompetent characters. How she had tried to braid his hair once before a match but realized his hair was too short and then settled for putting it into a ponytail that ended up looking like an antenna on top of his head, when she pointed it out, she howled like a hyena. He wanted to say all of those things and more, but didn’t.

“Okay cool, because, well Yachi was wondering if she could go along with us to next month’s training camp. Yachi doesn’t want to be the only girl on the bus, and would like L/n to come along because she thinks she could handle the manager responsibilities well. And she wouldn’t admit it, but I'm sure Yachi would like to be L/n’s friend but is too scared to ask her.” Yamaguchi took a deep breath from his long explanation.

“I can ask.”

“Amazing. Cool, thanks so much Tsukki!” Yamaguchi waved goodbye as Tsukishima pulled his duffel bag onto his shoulder and made his way from practice back home.

At home, Tsukishima was greeted with two very different sights.

Y/n sitting in the kitchen, spinning around on the chair next to the counter. She was chewing on her pen, looking at a packet opened up to the middle. She had changed out of her school uniform in favor of some pajamas. It was one of Tsukishima’s old t-shirts that he had gifted to her as a gag gift for some Christmas that had gone as fast as it had come. She was wearing a pair of Akiteru’s old volleyball practice shorts, the ones that had holes on the thighs from all the times Akiteru had practiced receiving but ended up sliding across the gym floor. This was a pleasant sight, causing his dopamine levels to rise exponentially.

The second sight was Akiteru with a girl sitting in his lap. She was talking into his ear and playing with the hair on his nape. Akiteru looked, for some reason, really happy that this girl was there with him. Then Tsukishima thought about it for a moment, and realized that he would probably feel and look just as happy as Akiteru if it was Y/n sitting in his lap basking in his presence. This was an enviable sight, he wanted to be Akiteru and he wanted Y/n to be the girl. He had several questions as to why Y/n was at the Tsukishima household, and why Akiteru was with some strange girl.

“Oh hey, Tsukishima.” Y/n whispered. Waving him over. This was odd only in the way that it felt like Tsukishima was out of place. Like a spoon with a bunch of forks. Like a glass of apple juice amongst water. Like a boy with no idea what was happening in his own house.

“Wanna make a guess about whose parents decided it would be a good idea to take a two month-long trip? I’ll give you a big clue. The parents of the two blonde boys and the one h/c haired girl.”

“What...” Tsukishima, was for once, at a loss for a sarcastic comeback.

“Yup. My parents packed all my stuff up and left it in your guest room, they freaking took my house key and locked me out of my own house. Something about, ‘Letting you stay home alone when there are two perfectly great boys to make sure you stay out of trouble right there.’ It’s bullshit. But hey, I guess we both have to deal with our crazy parents.” Y/n’s mouth kept moving, but Tsukishima blocked her words out. He had to be going insane. He had to be going insane. This was not something that happened in real life.

Tsukishima dropped his duffel bag on the floor and went upstairs. Shutting his door with a slight slam. He sat on his bed and looked up at the ceiling. The glow in the dark dinosaurs that y/n had bought him for his eleventh birthday still stuck on. He wanted to take them off but just couldn’t do that because it would mean losing a part of y/n that lived in his room. When his phone buzzed, it was like breaking out of a trance.

Look Kei, I dont want to be in this situation either, but pls just be around me bc I dont think I can handle the weird smacking sounds coming from Akiteru and his girlfriend.

Did she mean to type Kei instead of Tsukishima? Was it a fluke? Before he had time to respond, his door opened and shut quickly.

“Geez, I thought I was going to be suffocated by the smell of their cologne and perfume. And why is your brother such a loud kisser? Does he have a vendetta against romance?” She moved around in his room like she had it memorized. Sitting down in his desk chair and resting her elbows on her knees. Her legs dangled slightly seeing as his chair was set to the tallest setting.

When Tsukishima finally made eye contact, he noticed the tears that had begun to create a sheen over her eyes. He looked away quickly and spoke.

“I assume he does have a vendetta against romance.” Y/n forced out a curt laugh. The tension in Tsukishima’s room was somewhat thick.

There were three times that Y/n had been in his room. The first time was when they were barely six years old.

“Why is your room the way it is?” Y/n tilted her head around, looking at everything with her big doe eyes. Akiteru was sitting on Tsukishima’s bed listening to music on his iPod, seeing as Tsukishima’s parents wanted him to hang out with Y/n and Tsukishima.

“Because it is.”

“That’s not much of an answer though Kei-Kei.” Y/n poked at a few of his dinosaur figurines.

“Stop calling me that.” Tsukishima stood up and fixed the arrangement of his toys before dragging Y/n down to the floor so that she wouldn’t keep messing with his stuff.

“Kei-Kei?” Y/n offered. Laying on her back, she extended out all of her limbs to mimic a starfish.

“Stop.”

“Kei-Kei.” Y/n sat back up and leaned forward, facing him.

“I said to stop!” He put his hands on her shoulders and put his face up close to her own.

“Kei-Kei.” Y/n mocked, moving her head from one side to the other for each syllable of the nickname. Tsukishima took his hands off her shoulders and pouted. At the same time, Akiteru got off the bed and tried walking out of Tsukishima’s room. But he tripped and accidentally bumped into Tsukishima.

Akiteru gasped.

Tsukishima and Y/n’s lips were touching. Akiteru ran out of the room with his eyes blown out wide. Tsukishima stayed still; y/n’s lips were sticky from her Chapstick and the feeling of resting his lips against hers was nice. Y/n immediately retreated her head away from Tsukishima’s. She looked wildly distraught. And in one instant she had begun to bawl. Tsukishima panicked.

“What's wrong?!”

“I didn’t want you to be my first kiss!” She said with tears streaming down her face, she kept trying to wipe them off but it began to irritate her skin and make her cheeks and eyes turn red.

“Hold on, I can fix it!” Tsukishima stood up and began searching his desk drawers. Pulling out the drawers rapidly, he stuck his hands in each of them feeling around. When he finally found what he was looking for he went back to Y/n and crouched down next to her.

“You should rub the eraser against your lips, and then it'll be like it never happened!” Y/n did as was suggested, once she felt satisfied with the erasing, she sighed.

“Good save there Kei-Kei.” She was still sniffling but had long since stopped crying. When she offered the eraser to him, he put it back into his drawer. “Aren’t you going to get rid of the kiss?” She questioned, again rubbing her eyes to get rid of the remaining wet spots on her cheeks.

“I don’t think I want to.”

The tension in the room snapped. Like when two people were tugging on two opposite ends of a rope, and the middle begins to slowly fray, and then as they kept tugging it to be more on their side, the rope rips in the middle and both people fall down due to the gravity of having the only thing keeping them upright breaking. Y/n put her head in her hands and her shoulders begin to shake. Slowly at first, like the fraying of the rope. Then faster, and her breath was reduced to sharp inhales, the ripping in the middle. And then finally heavy exhales combined with tears falling, the snap.

Just like when they were six years old, Tsukishima jumped up and tried to fix it. Wrapping his arms around her shoulders, her head on his chest. The flames in his chest rise, the palpitating pain starting in his chest spreads out until every inch of his body is absorbed in excruciating pain. It didn’t hurt, it just ached. He wanted so badly to block out everything that was hurting her at the moment. But he knew that anything he would try to say would just come out sounding cruel in the moment.

She cried herself to sleep. Tsukishima was still holding her against his chest when he could hear the sniffles subside and become replaced with slow and balanced breathing. He stayed like that for a minute longer than needed. When he picked her up, carefully cradling her head and went to the guest room. Her stuff was indeed in the room, she had unpacked some of her school stuff as it was strewn across the desk. He laid her on the bed. Her body naturally cuddles up to one of the pillows. Tsukishima pulled the blanket hanging on the reading chair in the corner of the room and set it on y/n’s sleeping figure.

He stayed in the room for longer than would have been deemed appropriate. But his excuse was that he wanted to make sure she was still breathing. Her inhales and exhales are even and stable, not like the sharpness of when she was crying and choking on not having enough air get to her lungs. When Tsukishima walked out of her room, he shut the door as softly as possible.

He had two things to do.

Make sure y/n was okay.

Which was completed successfully.

The other thing was to beat Akiteru up.

“Bye! See you tomorrow then? Saturday at two! Love you!” Akiteru let out a love-struck sigh, resting his back against the front door.

“What is wrong with you?” Tsukishima said and though his words were aggressive, they came out calmly. But yet, each word seems to prick and scratch at Akiteru.

“Excuse me?” Akiteru’s mood dropped, and it was obvious.

“You really messed things up. Why the hell did you have to bring a girl over, when you knew that Y/n would be here. You do know that she is practically in love with you right?”

Akiteru’s mouth moved like a fish. It was moving but no words were coming out. Tsukishima’s next words were sarcastic and dripping with a jealous venom. “Perfect Akiteru, older brother extraordinaire, the best role model.”

“Kei.” Akiteru rubbed his temple, and walked towards Tsukishima.

“Don't call me that.” Tsukishima took a step back. Away from his brother, no scratch that, away from the man who made the love of his life hurt.

“But it's your name?” Akiteru reasoned. He didn’t try to take a step forward.

“I don’t want you tainting the way I've heard it said. You don’t get to say my name anymore. Not after you made y/n cry. She cried so hard I thought she was going to accidently hurt herself from how she was breathing.” Tsukishima’s glasses were fogging up, his fists clenched. But his voice stayed the same, calm and powerful. He was making sure his voice didn’t crack in front of Akiteru.

“She told me she had a crush on...” Akiteru was cut off when Tsukishima heard his words.

“So why did you have to go and be such an asshole?” Tsukishima’s voice cracked, but he kept his stance.

“I wasn’t being an asshole Kei.” Akiteru explained.

“Don't call me that.”

“Fine. But you do realize that I can't stop my life just for y/n, right? It isn’t going to always be about what she wants?” Akiteru tried to reason.

“It is for me! It's always going to be about her. It always has been.” That’s when the tears started to fall. They blinded him.

“Then why don’t you let her know that? Because it honestly doesn’t seem like you care about her when you toy around with a new girl every week.” Akiteru was done giving his words a soft touch, these words were hard hitting and so true that it made Tsukishima want to puke.

“Because that’s the only way to get her to pay attention to me! Don’t you see?” Tsukishima stood back up. “The only way to get her attention is for me to show her that I'm wanted by other girls.”

“That’s not how it is and you know it.” Akiteru pushed past Tsukishima and walked upstairs to his room. Leaving Tsukishima to stand alone in the hallway.

As the sun peeked over the rim of the world, people awoke and rose from their death-like slumber. Tsukishima had fallen asleep as soon as he put his head on his pillow. When he woke up, he looked at his phone and realized that Yamaguchi had called him over ten times and his messages were all about Y/n.

(TSUKKI) (Did you ask her yet?) (Ask her pls) (Ask her!!!!) (Yachi is on my tail rn pls ask and get an answer) (Oh r u in one of your moods about her rn?) (Did you try and be all romantic and shit and it didn’t turn out the way u wanted) (Lol jk) (I know u wouldn’t do that) (But yeah, just ask her’)(thankzzzzz)

When Tsukishima put on his glasses, he was about to type in a reply, when there were seven knocks on his door. Y/n. His answer came out before he could realize he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

“Come on in!” When Y/n opened the door, she had two plates of food balanced on her hands and her hair was slightly damp.

“Oh.....hey, I brought food. But if you want, I can just leave it here....” Y/n trailed off.

“No! I mean, no, you can stay. I’ll put on a shirt.”

Tsukishima stood up and went over to his closet and slipped on a shirt, then he went back and sat on his bed. Y/n was sitting crossed legged in his beanbag and chewing on some of the strawberries on her plate. Tsukishima did the same, crossing his legs and eating the fruit.

“I'm sorry for yesterday. I didn’t mean to have a breakdown. I shouldn't be getting emotional over nothing.” Y/n toyed with a piece of her hair, looking down at her plate. When she saw Akiteru kissing the girl, she wasn’t jealous. She imagined that it was her and Tsukishima. She tried blinking repeatedly to get the image out of her head. But it stuck. And she realized. She should have realized sooner.

“Yamaguchi was wondering if you would come along for the volleyball training camp next month?” Tsukishima said. When he realized what he did, he honestly wanted to slap himself in the face. He completely ignored what Y/n was trying to say, and he felt embarrassed.

Y/n raised her eyebrows in shock, but then gave a shy smile. “Sure, it’s not like I’ll be doing anything else.” Tsukishima swallowed thickly, and nodded.

The second time Y/n was in his room was when they were ten years old.

Tsukishima hated when his parents held dinner parties, and he still does. But because of his slowly growing crush on Y/n he seemed more willing to help out with the party. When the Tsukishimas’ lined up by the front door, wearing their best dress, welcoming the guests with a curt bow, Tsukishima thought he would drown from all the people invading his space. Seeing Y/n hop inside his house was a refreshing breath of air.

How was he supposed to focus on what his mom was trying to say about the steak when Y/n was sitting right there. Right next to him, and being so perfect that he thought he would just burst from pure happiness. Y/n had been on a vacation for most of summer, so he hadn’t seen her for a long time.

She had gotten taller, but so had he. She had gotten prettier, and he still felt like he had a baby face. She had gotten more polite and was able to find the ample time to give her opinion during the conversation between the grownups, while he still struggled to refrain from making snarky comments about the lives of his parents' friends.

So, he thought he was dreaming when Y/n made eye contact and moved her eyes to look over at the stairs when the adults brought out the alcohol. Swiftly, they made their escape to his room. Tsukishima was glad that his parents had forced him to clean his room before the party.

“Kei, I thought I was going to just die from all the talking about taxes.”

“But, Y/n, you seemed to be so good at finding exactly what to say. Like, all the time.”

Tsukishima stood in the middle of his room, shuffling his feet awkwardly as Y/n held her hands behind her back and pursed her lips together as she looked around his room.

“I guess. But it's pretty stupid that adults don’t talk about cool things anymore.” Y/n heard her name being called from downstairs. “Kei, promise that even when we are old and wrinkly and gross, that we won’t have nothing to talk about?” Y/n held out her hand, and Tsukishima gripped it tight as they shook seven times.

“Okay, now that you promised Kei, you can't ever break it okay?”

“I know.” Tsukishima smiled as he waved goodbye to Y/n as she exited his room.

His promise echoed in his brain as a month passed with Y/n living in his house. Conversations were kept to a minimum, as they each worked on homework separately. Tsukishima, though, often got flustered when he saw her bras hanging up on the drying rack in the laundry room. Other than seeing bras, or an occasional pair of underwear, he was sure that he could make it the month without being forced into any awkward situations. Weekly movie night was practically the same, except for the addition of Akiteru’s girlfriend. But, halfway through each of the movies the couple would start kissing and it would disturb Tsukishima and Y/n, who then retreated to their own rooms.

When Tsukishima woke up to his alarm at around five thirty in the morning, he laid in his bed for a while just staring at the glow in the dark dinosaurs. He could hear Y/n shuffling downstairs with her suitcase, and he looked over to his own suitcase. For a while he pretended that this was normal. To have the girl that he had been in love with since he was six-year-old living in his house. When he went downstairs, Y/n was yawning and looking through her backpack to make sure that she had everything for the week long training camp. His last training camp as a high schooler. He was a third year now. So was Y/n. But it hadn’t quite hit him until he was at the school with everyone waiting to get onto the bus.

“Since you are all Karasuno Volleyball members, I thought it would be a fun idea to pair you up for the bus ride, and for any activities that we have planned while we are down in Tokyo. While this is still training camp, we want this to be memorable. Especially for our intermittent manager, L/n.” Coach Ukai stated dully, as if he was reading off cue cards written by Takada which he was indeed doing.

“-And finally, we have Tsukishima and L/n as our last pair. Okay get your asses on the bus, I’m too tired for this right now.”

Getting onto the bus last, Tsukishima took both his and Y/n’s suitcases and put them on the overhead carrier. Y/n seemed stunned by the action then just shook her head and slipped into the row, sitting in the window seat. Tsukishima hardly got any sleep during the night and was on the verge of falling asleep. Nodding his head before flinching and lifting his head back up. There was a seat in-between Tsukishima and Y/n, where they set their backpacks down. Tsukishima leaned his head back onto the seat, but after about ten minutes his neck started to hurt. So, he just let out a low groan of agitation.

Whilst Tsukishima was going through his mini freak out trying to be comfortable enough to sleep, he didn’t notice as Y/n grabbed the bags and set them down by her feet. Clearing her throat, Tsukishima looked over to her with furrowed eyebrows and a sour face.

“Kei,” Tsukishima felt his heart jump into his throat. “C’mere.” Y/n reached over and pulled his head down, after he was resisting for a few seconds, Y/n clarified.

“Rest your head in my lap, you clearly didn’t get any sleep last night. I’ll play with your hair like when we were younger.” Tsukishima wanted to refuse; he really did. But she was saying everything in the same gentle tone that she reserved for first years or the animals she came across. Once her hand went to his fringe, he was putty.

“Only because I'm tired.” He explained as he rested his head on her lap.

“Whatever you say, Kei.”

In almost no time, Tsukishima fell asleep. But instead of a dream, it was a memory. The memory of the third time Y/n went into his room.

They were sixteen and stupid. He had another layer though, he was sixteen, stupid, and mean. Second year had been a bitch so far. Tsukishima hadn’t even got seated in the same row as Y/n. Instead, she got seated next to some flirt on the basketball team. Now, there weren’t people taller than Tsukishima typically, but over the summer Ito Yuuta grew five inches and was two inches taller than Tsukishima.

Tsukishima didn’t want to accept the fact that Y/n was just being nice to Ito Yuuta, because Ito was, in the simplest terms, an ass to Tsukishima. So anytime he saw them talking, it triggered something in Tsukishima. So, his own mean ways came back with a passion. He led on more than three girls at a time the week that he caught Ito leaning in far too close to Y/n and made her laugh.

Tsukishima knew it was wrong. He knew he was playing with fire when Ito’s first year little sister tried to get Tsukishima’s attention. He knew it was bad news to break her heart. He knew it was worse news that he had done it right in front of Ito himself.

“I’m not looking for anything serious right now. Bye.” Tsukishima left Ito’s sister standing by the school entrance with her jaw slack and her hand covering her mouth. Ito was fuming. He marched into class and ripped Tsukishima’s headphones right off.

“What the hell. You can’t just do that to a first year!” Tsukishima stood up and ripped his headphones from Ito’s hands.

“I just did.”

“Screw you Tsukishima. You're just a sad bastard because Y/n wouldn’t give you the time of day if you begged.” Ito huffed and pointed directly to where Y/n’s desk was.

“What?” He spat out.

“That's right, half of the school knows about your constant boner for the only girl who doesn’t give a flying shit about you.” Ito pushed Tsukishima in the chest before scoffing and walking out of the class. Tsukishima just stood there. Silent. Yamaguchi tried to talk to him but Tsukishima just snapped at him too.

Tsukishima walked out of class and to Y/n’s clubroom. When he saw her sitting down at a table silently gluing pieces of magazines onto a cardstock poster, he wanted to stop what he was going to do. But he was furious.

“You told him?” Tsukishima yelled. He was glad that it was just Y/n in the clubroom. Y/n flinched at the sudden screaming. He felt guilty immediately.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Tsukishima?” Y/n tried to get closer to him, but he pulled away from her.

“Oh, I'm sure you don’t know. Hell, Y/n.” Tsukishima stormed out of the clubroom and went straight home. He didn’t care if the school was going to call his parents, he was fuming and the only thing running through his veins was hatred.

He spent the entire day blasting music through his headphones, his eyes shut tight. The music was so loud that he didn’t even notice Y/n opening his bedroom door.

When she taps him on the shoulder he flinches at the sudden contact. He takes off his headphones and growls his words, “What do you want?”

“I want you to explain what happened in the clubroom.” She sat down on the edge of his bed and looked straight into his eyes.

This was the first time in what felt like forever that Y/n had talked to him. But he only had himself to blame for that, he was the one who pushed her away, he was the one who chose to stay away from her once he saw how she treated Akiteru. He was the one who was giving her the silent treatment.

And for once, Tsukishima wished he was anyone else at this moment.

“Do you really not see it?”

“How can I see when you’re covering my eyes?” Y/n refuted. Her analogy was confusing and didn’t clarify anything to Tsukishima.

“You never promised back that you would talk to me. Do you remember? We were ten years old, and you made me promise.” Tsukishima was tired of not having her attention. He was tired of it. He wanted her to talk to him. He wanted her to actively search out for him and ask about his day. He just wanted to have her be there for him. But how could he expect that from her when he was never there for her?

“I don’t remember that Tsukishima.” Each of her words was like an arrow was shooting through his heart.

He got up from his bed and gently, with as little force as possible shoved her out of his room. Sixteen-year-old Tsukishima wanted to grab her hands and yell in her face that he loved her. He wanted to say, I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. Because saying that would make the conversation interesting, it would entertain Y/n. Because they would be talking about his love instead of taxes.

That was the worst night of his life. Tsukishima's memories loved to play harsh tricks on him by creeping up when his mentality and esteem were going from low to lower.

The bus droned on, and despite everyone’s attempt to sleep Kageyama and Hinata were still talking loudly to the first years about how cool their seniors had been.

She was slightly twisting his hair, her pointer finger grabbing small tufts and looping it around her finger before sliding her hand out, leaving miniature curls. Tsukishima, even on a bus ride, had always been a sleep talker.

He awoke when he felt her poking him in his cheek. When he turned his head to look up at her, she was grinning.

“I love you too Kei.” She whispered as her hand ran through his hair. “Your sleep talking habit has gotten worse over the years.” She mused, giving him a few pats on his head.

And suddenly every single one of Kei’s favorite memories came rushing back to him. The memory of his first kiss with Y/n. The memory of her faking falling off a cliff when they were eight years old. The dinner party where she made him promise to always have something to say. The drunk confession when he was fourteen-year old. The chasing and running in the rain at fifteen. His five favorite memories, bursting into vivid color.

Y/n didn’t know what possessed her to utter the words. She knew it was wrong to say that to him. She knew that her love for him would only seem to rebound from his brother. She was a jerk to do that to him. And she was completely aware of it. But she did love him.

She loved him when she realized she didn’t love Akiteru. She wanted to believe that she loved Akiteru because she didn’t want to say that she loved Kei. Kei played around too much, so she knew it would only hurt her to like him. She needed someone secure. And at the time that person was Akiteru. But once she saw him kissing another girl, she realized she wasn’t jealous.

She felt happy for Akiteru. When she pictured it as Kei however, only then was she jealous.

Kei sat up fast, his hands running to cup her face. His words were practically buffering in his brain as he tried to come up with a sarcastic comment. But that didn’t fit right for a moment like this.

“I finally, finally, have your attention, right?”

Some years later, and after a lot of growing up, life finally clicked.

"I guess you did end up with a pet dinosaur Kei." Y/N traced the outline of the label in front of the ancient bones. She was wearing his Sendai Frogs jersey.

"He's not a pet, he's a testament to nature." Tsukishima slipped his arm around her waist, slipping cold fingers under her shirt to rub her hip. Goosebumps appeared for a moment, then dissipated.

In three weeks they would get married. In four, their apartment would be ready to move into. In one hundred fifty-six weeks, Y/N agreed that she would consider, maybe, having a kid.

"Did you like the game?"

"I loved the game, you were so cool! Which is almost never the case." His face hurts from how hard he's been smiling lately.

"You don't have to work, you know." He commented when he saw her scrolling through her phone calendar, purple events of her job at the weather forecasting station. She liked being a meteorologist, she was always the first to know when it was going to rain now.

"You're so annoying." Tsukishima kissed her, getting a laugh and a smile in response. He continued the tour around the museum, giving her more details than any other tour he had given. His favorite relics, his least favorite place to clean, the place he most wanted to make out with her. When they took a pause, she was playing with his hair at the nape of his neck as they were sitting in front of a painting.

Tsukishima Kei was used to the attention he got from L/N Y/N. It came from having an aura where he radiated love for her.

[dirtytomatoedwrites]

Preludes and Nocturnes - Part 1

Paring: Rafe Cameron x InnocentPogue!reader

Summary: Rafe discovers your hidden talent and now he has seen it, you have his full attention.

Warnings:  18+ Smut. Dark!Rafe. Virgin!Reader, Romance, Angst, Dub-Con, Fingering, squirting.  Not Proof-Read so mistakes are my own.

Word Count: 9k words (Yo it took me months to write but I finally did it) 

Author Note: Hello lovelies! So this is an original idea I’ve had for a while now... and this is the longest fanfic I’ve ever written for a character. Who did I write this tale about Rafe motherfucking Cameron of course. HA!  I may do a part 2 but we’ll see based on the response it gets.  Love you all and thanks for reading and listening - there’s music in there too so if you can listen to the tracks as you read it’ll heighten the experience. 🫶 Enjoy!

Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Please don’t steal or copy bits of my writing or any writing from other writers cause karma will get ya.  

Rose, elegant and poised as ever, fiddled with Ward's bowtie. It was a futile attempt to straighten it, and you wondered if the Kooks knew how ridiculous they looked, their privileged lives spent fussing over trivial things.

"Do you play?" Ward's voice was casual, but his eyes betrayed a glimmer of interest. He had seen you eyeing the piano in their opulent living room before, and it was clear he suspected you had a musical inclination.

"A little," you replied, shrugging nonchalantly. You didn't want to give too much away. The Kooks had a tendency to pry, and you had learned the hard way that it was better to keep your guard up.

The Camerons were pleasant enough, but like the other Kooks on Figure Eight, they didn't really care about the Pogues. You had grown up being told that Pogues were different from Kooks, but as you got older, you realized it was more complicated than that. The Kooks were narrow-minded, lacking empathy and understanding. They saw the Pogues as nothing more than servants, there to cater to their every whim. It was a toxic dynamic and one that you had learned to navigate with caution.

The key to survival on the Outer Banks was invisibility. You had learned that early on. The less you revealed about yourself, the safer you were. So you didn't tell Ward that your father had started teaching you piano before you could even walk. You didn't tell him that music was your escape, your solace, your everything.

"Well, a bit of something is better than nothing," Ward chuckled, his eyes flickering back to you. "I bought it thinking it would be nice to have music in the house that wasn't rap or pop, but you know how kids are." He chuckled again. "No one seems interested in learning how to play it. If you want to try it out, our door is always open."

The Kooks were the quintessential chameleons, expertly donning the cloak of benevolence and charity. But behind the facade lay their self-centered motives, concealed in plain sight. In their company, you had to be just as duplicitous as them, your true self lost in a sea of artifice. So you donned your own mask of deceit, feigning a grin while burying your true feelings behind a veneer of politeness.

As the grandfather clock in the hallway struck six, Rose and Mr. Cameron stepped into the warm North Carolina evening, dressed to the nines for their elegant black-tie affair. You were left behind in the kitchen with Wheezie, chatting aimlessly about everything and nothing. A comfortable silence settled between you.

"Want to watch a movie, Wheezie?" you asked, but you already knew the answer.

"Maybe next time? I'm having a Stranger Things watch party with my friends. We're on season three, actually," she replied as she pulled out her phone and began texting.

"Oh, that's cool. Sure, let me know when you're hungry and we'll order in."

A few minutes later, you were left alone in the kitchen, grappling with the void of the next five hours stretching before you. Your gaze was inexorably drawn to the open double doors of the living room, and a force beyond your control tugged at your heartstrings.

There, in the corner of the Camerons' living room, stood a magnificent black Steinway & Sons piano. A work of art that you had only seen in fleeting glimpses on the internet, played by virtuosos with mastery beyond compare.

The Camerons' piano was an exquisite piece. Valued upwards of forty thousand dollars, it was a show-stopper that begged to be played in a prestigious concert hall. And yet there it sat in their living room, untouched and unloved.

With a fluttering heart, you approached the baby grand piano, drawn by an unconscious force beyond your control. As you lifted the fallboard, a heady scent of wax and mahogany wafted into your nostrils, creating a longing you could barely contain. Your fingertips brushed against the smooth, pristine ivory keys, unable to resist the urge to touch. As you pressed down on one, a crystalline note filled the air, flawless and true. Before you could even think, you were seated on the bench.

Back straight and feet planted firmly on the floor, you thought about all the classical pieces you had practiced over the years and loved to play. How each piece would sound hollow on your cheap, antiquated piano in your small family home. Music was your first love, and you longed for the day to play on stage accompanied by the New York Symphony Orchestra.

Closing your eyes, you allowed your mind to wander, imagining a sea of faces, a packed audience hanging on your every note. In your mind's eye, you saw your dad sitting in the front row, his gaze filled with pride and love. The thought of his reaction, a validation of all his sacrifices over the years, filled you with purpose.

Driven by your distant dream, you let your fingers glide across the keys, effortlessly weaving a tapestry of sound that flooded the Camerons' living room with music.

With meticulous attention, you listened closely to the dynamics of the piece. You noticed the way the Steinway amplified the subtlest variations in volume, imbuing the composition with a melancholic mood. Your fingers moved with practiced ease, executing intricate runs and arpeggios with fluid grace.

Enraptured by the music, you let the notes wash over you. Every facial expression was a reflection of the emotional journey unfolding before you. As the piece reached its crescendo, your fingers moved faster, striking the keys with greater force, a physical manifestation of your emotions. Your hands flowed in flawless harmony with the rhythm, pouring your soul into the music. And with the final notes, you laughed breathlessly, basking in the afterglow of your musical outpouring.

But your blissful moment was cruelly interrupted as you suddenly sensed you weren’t alone. Your eyes snapped open, and a cold wave of fear washed over you.

“Shit! I am so sorry,” you stammered, your voice trailing off in a rush of apologies as you gingerly lowered the piano fallboard.

“You know,” Rafe’s words were laced with honey, each syllable slow and sweet, yet there was no mistaking the menacing undertone to them. “We don’t take kindly to people touching our things,” he drawled, his intense gaze locked onto yours, a warning glimmer lurking within his dark eyes.

“I… I had permission from your dad,” you insisted, your words barely audible above a whisper as you tried to defend your actions.

His response was a dismissive chuckle. The atmosphere was taut with tension as he nonchalantly propped his golf bag against the wall. Leisurely slow, he sauntered over to you, his hands casually tucked away in his pockets.

“What were you playing anyway?” he inquired, his tone deceptively relaxed.

“You mean the name of the piece?” you swallowed hard, fear palpable. “It’s called Nocturne in C-sharp Minor.”

The tall blonde squinted at you, and you could not decipher his expression. Wanting to avoid further irritation, you slowly rose from the piano bench and dusted it off.

“What kinda name is that?”

“I… I…” you stammered, blood surging in your ears from fear as Rafe suddenly leaned in and lifted the fallboard. He scanned the keys, perhaps checking for any scratches. You took a deep breath. The scent of his expensive cologne and freshly mown grass overwhelmed your senses.

“I don’t know. It worked for Chopin, I guess.” You said quietly.

“Chopin…” he said with his lip jutted.

“He’s the composer. He wrote it and-”

“I know Chopin,” Rafe interrupted, his eyes suddenly locked on you. Up close, you could not deny that they were a striking shade of blue, if not for the death glare he gave you. “Chopin, Beethoven, Einaudi, Bach…” He backed away and sat in a nearby chair. “Brahms… I’ve been to enough of those long-ass concerts to at least know their names.”

You felt a confusing mix of awe and jealousy as you listened to Rafe’s words. The pit in your stomach proved this. You had never been to a proper symphony concert, and the school concerts you had attended were barely amateur. The thought of your dad’s broken promise to take you to one was a constant source of frustration. However, Rafe’s casual disdain for the very concerts he was lucky enough to attend seemed to be a new addition.

“Well… I’m not getting paid to mess around on your piano,” you said with a wry smile, as you tried to mask your emotions.

“You’re right. You’re not,” Rafe retorted while he twisted the gold signet ring around his index finger with his thumb. Head tilted to the side, his eyes raked over every inch of you, from your hair, your oversized sweatshirt and jeans to your worn knockoff Converses. You felt self-conscious under his intense scrutiny. He made you want to crawl into a hole and hide.

“I… I should check on Wheezie,” you whispered, eager to escape the tension in the room.

“Why?” Rafe asked, halting his twirling of the signet ring. His face appeared bemused until a sly grin tugged at his lips. “Weeze is a big girl, right? Might as well… play Chopin while she’s doing her own thing…”

As you babysat for the Camerons, you occasionally spotted Rafe in the vicinity. Sometimes, he was accompanied by a striking beauty, while other times he hung out with his friends. Even when he was alone, his body language was a clear warning: "Keep your distance." His piercing gaze made you feel diminutive and unimportant, as if any attempts at interaction would be met with cold indifference. In his presence, you felt like you were navigating hostile terrain, just a misstep away from a precarious situation.

"Well?" he said, leaning back in his chair and tapping his lower lip with a finger. The gesture seemed to carry a message, but what message you weren't sure. What was certain was that his expression of amusement made it evident that the outcome was secondary—he was simply enjoying watching you squirm.

Your tongue darted out to moisten your parched lips, while anxiety twisted in your gut as you stared nervously at the grand Steinway piano and Rafe. The weight of his words lingered in the air, causing you to hesitate and consider the potential consequences of your answer.

Every which way you looked at it, you were fucked.

Rafe was bound to tell his parents, and you were sure enough about to lose your job once they found out. Despite Mr. Cameron's outward kindness and willingness to accommodate, you knew very well that playing their piano without supervision was not within the bounds of your permission. And he certainly would not appreciate you lying about it either.

Still, you were determined to make the most out of a shitty situation. You weren't trying to prove anything to Rafe, but if this was going to be your last time playing a Steinway, you would go out in style.

You had chosen a haunting, evocative melody,  a tale of lost love and longing. The notes rang out, clear and true, as your fingers danced over the keys. 

Closing your eyes and shutting out the world and Rafe, you allowed the music to flow from your fingertips, guided by instinct and emotion. Your touch was delicate yet confident, breathing life into the haunting melody.

After the last notes of the piece hung in the air like a delicate mist. You held your breath, waiting for some kind of response from Rafe, but all you got was a deafening silence. The room felt like it was closing in on you, and you couldn't help but cast a quick glance in his direction.

Rafe's eyes bored into yours with an intensity that made your heart stop. You shifted uncomfortably, feeling exposed under his scrutinizing gaze. When you finally lowered the fallboard, the tension was so thick you could practically cut it with a knife.

"I should check on Wheezie," you whispered, breaking the silence.

Rafe made no reply, and you took that as permission to leave. When you returned downstairs a half hour later, Rafe was nowhere to be seen and you sighed in relief.

In the best-case scenario, Rafe would keep your little transgression to himself. In the worst-case scenario, you could explain to Mr. Cameron that curiosity got the better of you and seek his forgiveness. Either way, you vowed never to touch their piano again.

"What's on your setlist today, piano girl?" Rafe's voice caused your heart to skip a beat, and you nearly spewed out the orange juice pooling in your mouth. A mere week had passed since your previous babysitting job at the illustrious Cameron residence. Yet here you were once again, feeling a pang of anxiety at the mere sight of him. You had desperately hoped to avoid any interaction with Rafe for the remainder of your shift, but fate had other plans in store.

There he was, sauntering into the kitchen, sporting an obnoxiously bright salmon polo shirt that clashed horribly with his teal shorts, and finished with a backwards baseball cap. Despite his frat boy appearance, you couldn't help but admit that he looked undeniably handsome. The realization hit you like a brick and left you feeling inexplicably uneasy.

"Excuse me?" you sputtered, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

Rafe's gaze shifted towards the living room, where the Steinway was waiting behind closed doors.

"No, I don't think it's a good idea," you said, your voice trailing off as you watched Rafe roll his eyes.

"Whatever," he drawled with a dismissive flick of his wrist, exuding an air of nonchalant superiority as he strode out of the kitchen.

You parroted his words under your breath, feeling frustration boil inside you. Despite his insufferable demeanor, you chose to let it slide. After all, you needed this job, and with a week of smooth sailing under your belt, you suspected that Rafe had kept your little piano incident under wraps. You weren't about to jeopardize your livelihood over a petty disagreement with Rafe Cameron of all people.

Just as you were considering taking refuge in the kitchen to avoid Rafe, the sound of a key being struck on the Steinway echoed through the kitchen, beckoning you towards it.

You stepped into the living room, a bundle of nerves and anticipation, only to find Rafe sprawled in the same chair as before. The piano's fallboard was already raised. Its ebony and ivory keys gleamed in the warm light of the setting sun. Rafe's piercing gaze locked onto yours, then flicked towards the piano.

"Do you want me to play something?" you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe shrugged, looking uninterested. "Do you want to?" he asked, his voice dripping with boredom.

"I don't mind, I guess," you replied, chewing your bottom lip.

If you were to be completely honest with yourself, you were desperate for another chance to play the Steinway. There was a piece that you couldn't get out of your head, and you knew it would sound magnificent on it. You did not need to be asked twice. But at the same time, you were no fool.

You had heard whispers about the "Kook King." Infamous for settling disputes with his fists, not for acts of kindness. You had no idea what was taking place here or why Rafe was suddenly allowing you to play the Camerons' prized possession. But despite your internal warning bells that this could be a trap, you put your glass of orange juice on the floor next to the bench. Consequences be damned.

Taking a confident breath, you aimed to kill.

As you hit the final notes of the composition, the silence was shattered by Rafe's ragged breaths. Your eyes locked onto his, and you saw a flicker of something in his gaze that was gone as quickly as it appeared.

"I've been working on that one for a while," you said, trying to sound nonchalant despite his stare. "I know it's not perfect, but I-"

"No, it's good," Rafe interjected with a croak. "You're good."

His words validated your talent, and a rush of excitement surged through you, causing a grin to spread across your face as you basked in his praise. But the moment was short-lived as Rafe pulled out his phone and started scrolling, his demeanor shifting from impressed to cold indifference. Without warning, he abruptly rose from his seat, an air of superiority emanating from his towering frame.

"Tell Rose I'm having dinner at Top's," he drawled, his voice dripping with aloofness as he looked down his nose at you.

"Sure, okay," you stammered, still reeling from his sudden change in behavior.

Without another glance in your direction, he strode out of the room, leaving you to wonder what the hell just happened.

It became routine. A ritual. Embedded in your weekly visits to the Cameron residence.

Each time you babysat Wheezie, the air would fill with the soothing sound of classical music, as you took your place at the Steinway and brought the keys to life. Rafe, either in the background or seated nearby, listened intently. His brooding demeanor was a stark contrast to the beauty of the music.

As the weeks went by, playing the Steinway became a treasured routine, and it wasn't just the music that captivated you. With every note played, the invisible barrier between you and Rafe seemed to thin. Despite his reserved exterior, there was a subtle shift in the room when he was around, a magnetic pull that drew you closer to him until one evening, a simple question from him sparked a conversation that would change everything.

"Where did you even learn to play like that?" Rafe asked as the sun cast its final rays of light into the opulent living room, painting the space with a breathtaking array of orange, pink, and purple hues.

You had just finished playing a piece by Bach. The air was still thick with the lingering notes of the Prelude as you closed the Steinway lid.

"There's barely electricity on the cut. Far less for piano classes, and even if there was, you can't—you can't teach this, know what I mean? Well, not the way you play it anyway." His tone shifted, taking on a new quality of—dare you think it?—admiration. You couldn't help but wonder if the beer he was drinking had anything to do with his slip of the tongue and the emotions that seemed to seep through in his words.

You cast your eyes to find Rafe leaning forward in his chair, said beer bottle in hand, his hair falling into his face and his eyes laser-focused on you. There was an intensity in his eyes that made you feel like you were being seen, truly seen, by him. But as much as you were flattered by his attention, something lurking in the depths of his gaze made you feel uneasy, and you weren't entirely sure why. You brushed the stray thought aside.

"My dad taught me." You said with pride in your voice. "Did you know they used to have jazz nights at the Wreck?" You turned your body towards Rafe, eager to share this piece of history. "Back then, it wasn't called the Wreck. Anyway, my dad used to play there every night from seven until midnight until the Carreras took over. Now he works on the big oil rig in Burnsville."

"Does he still play?" Rafe asked.

You hesitated for a moment, realizing you were oversharing with Rafe Cameron of all people. But something about his presence made you feel comfortable enough to continue. "No, after my mom left," you trailed off, suddenly feeling vulnerable. "He just gave up on music altogether."

Rafe looked down, his expression unreadable.

"I guess I'm trying to keep the tradition alive, in my own way. It's not jazz, but he approves." You smiled softly. "Anyway, what about you?"

Arresting blue eyes flicked up at yours, and your stomach flipped.

"What about me?" he asked, his voice low and husky, dripping with curiosity and challenge. He leaned back in his chair, the rattan creaking beneath him. He lazily ran a hand through his blonde hair, revealing his chiselled features. You weren't sure why, but the gesture felt calculated. As though it was meant to entice you. And yet you couldn't help but feel a flutter in your chest as you drank in the sight of him.

"No offense, but you don't look like the type to be into..." you waved your hand towards the piano, trying to deflect his gaze and lighten the mood.

"Yeah? What do I look like I'm into?" Rafe purred seductively, his tongue swiping his top lip. His eyes fixed on you. You didn't miss his tone. The double entendre just beneath the surface, if you were bold enough to respond to it. You were sure the alcohol running through his veins had something to do with his sudden flirty behavior. Tomorrow, he'd probably forget the whole thing. But it still didn't stop the butterflies from dancing in your stomach.

"I...I..."

"Go on, don't be shy," Rafe coaxed, his eyes dark and intense, almost daring you to take the bait.

"I don't know," you breathed out a laugh, suddenly feeling flustered and self-conscious.

"Yeah, you do." Rafe said, his tone low and teasing. "Saying I don't look like the type means you have a type in your head. So, let's hear it. What kind of man do you think I am, Y/N?"

You were certain this was not about music anymore, and you felt way out of your element. What were you supposed to say about that? You decided to keep the conversation neutral and err on the side of caution.

"Okay," you nodded as you shifted on the bench. "You look like the type to be interested in other types of music, you know like rap or hip-hop, rock— even country, anything but this."

Rafe looked away with a chuckle, a deep rumble that made your skin tingle. He nodded slowly, pondering your words.

"Does that sound bad? I know it sounds awful. I'm sorry." You cringed.

"Nah, it's pretty tame actually... innocent even..." Rafe murmured more to himself than to you. You shivered as his piercing blue gaze met yours, then slowly traveled down to your lips, neck, and every inch of your oversized t-shirt and cardigan to your jeans-covered body.

He cleared his throat, his voice low as he spoke. "And you're not wrong. Classical music was my mom's thing. She loved it." He said taking a swig of his beer.

"Oh," you breathed out, taken aback by the unexpected answer. Suddenly, the pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place. Why Rafe was always so engrossed in the music each time you played. The wistful expression that crossed his face whenever he heard familiar pieces of music. It was like a window into his soul, a glimpse into a hidden part of him that he kept from the world. And just as you pieced together your thoughts, Rafe spoke, confirming your suspicions.

"We used to go to the mainland to see 'The Four Seasons' or 'Carmen' or some other shit like that. I don't know, it reminds me of her, I guess. Takes me back to happier times." Rafe shrugged, a hint of sadness in his eyes as he sipped his beer.

"I'm sorry..." you whispered.

"Nah, don't be. She was sick for a long time, and now she's... Anyway, It's all good now." Rafe replied with a forced nonchalance, a fragile façade attempting to conceal his true emotions.

"So, you listen to classical music for nostalgia..." you whispered, your voice tinged with a touch of melancholy.

“I guess you could say that,” Rafe said thoughtfully, tilting his head from side to side as he considered your words. He scrunched up his face, eyebrows drawn together as if he had tasted something bitter. “But I'm not a classical music aficionado or anything. It’s not like I’m requesting it in the club. Can you imagine that shit? Right after 21 Savage fuckin’ Mozart on blast. I’d get jumped.”

"I don’t know, you might start a trend," you smiled.

“Sounds like you want me to get jumped”

You outright laughed at that one. “Well, it depends, do you deserve it?”

“Oof” Rafe countered, clutching his chest faux wounded. “That was good.”

You shrugged with a smile, feeling an unexpected kinship with Rafe of all people. Here was this tough, brooding guy who, beneath the surface, was incredibly sentimental and even had a sense of humor. It was a sweet and surprising discovery.

"What about you? Why do you play?" He asked, his blue eyes roaming across your facial features slowly, curiously, when your laughter had died and all that was left was contented silence.

"Good question. Why do I play? Well, I guess for me... it's about the emotion," you replied, your fingers tracing the Steinway keys without pressing them. "Each note, each chord, each composition tells a story. It's like I'm a part of that story, and I get to bring it to life. You don’t need words you just… feel it.”

Rafe nodded, understanding. "I get it. You're the storyteller. The piano is your instrument channelin’ that shit.”

"Exactly!" you said, touching your nose and pointing to him with an earnest laugh.

"Exactly," Rafe repeated with a soft chuckle, his gaze fixated on you.

“Hey, how come I never see you at bonfires?” Rafe asked, a mischievous glint in his eye one sunny afternoon when Rose and Mr. Cameron went out for drinks with friends, leaving Wheezie in your care.

“Bonfires just aren’t my thing,” you replied with a shrug.

“What, no friends to hang out with?” he teased.

“I have plenty of friends!” you retorted, a hint of a smirk playing at your lips.

“Friends that I’ve never seen you with,” he pressed.

 “What do you mean ‘friends I’ve never seen you with’ are you stalking me around town?” 

“Maybe I am...” he shrugged a small devious smile curled his lips. “Whatever. Well, my friends and I clearly hang out when you’re not around,” you shot back, a playful smile lighting up your face.

“Sure you do,” he drawled, a chuckle rumbling in his chest.

Rafe leaned forward against the piano, the sun casting a warm glow on his handsome features. You couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed, and how the muscles in his arms flexed under his t-shirt while he absentmindedly tapped his index finger on the piano lid.

“You know, there’s more to life than playing music,” Rafe said, his voice low and smooth, as he turned the words over with his tongue. His finger tapping the lid, became slower, more measured.

“Oh, I know that,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “I have plenty of other things going on.”

“Yeah? Like what?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Like studying,” you said, trying to keep a straight face as Rafe scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I’m actually quite serious about my grades.”

"I wouldn't expect anything less from a good girl," Rafe chuckled. Once again, his comment caught you off guard. Although you knew he wasn't mocking you, it still felt strange that he felt the need to mention what he perceived was good girl behavior. “Seriously though, you should have some real fun too. Do some shit you probably shouldn’t do. Life’s too short to be cooped up not living it.”

You shrugged, unsure of what to say. Rafe had a point, but you weren’t sure if bonfires were the kind of fun you were looking for. Still, there was something about the way he looked at you that made your heart skip a beat, and you couldn’t help but swallow nervously. As if reading your thoughts, Rafe leaned closer.

“You know, I could show you a good time if you want.” Rafe’s voice was low and husky as he leaned in close, his minty breath fanning your cheek. While he had flirted before, this time there was a sober earnestness to his words that made your heart race. But before you could even formulate a response, the front door's slam cut through the thick tension.

Rafe straightened himself, briefly glancing towards the hallway before fixing his gaze back on you, his jaw tightly clenched in irritation. With determined strides, he purposefully walked away, the sound of his long steps resonating down the corridor, while you unintentionally caught snippets of his familiar argument with Sarah.

It seemed Sarah had developed an interest in John B, a guy you had seen around town, but Rafe vehemently disapproved due to his “pogue” status. You couldn’t fathom why he held such strong opposition, especially considering that you, too, were a Pogue. Had he conveniently forgotten? Or did he consider you an exception?

As you closed the lid of the Steinway, an inescapable curiosity filled your mind about what set your relationship with Rafe apart. Maybe he only saw you as a friend rather than a romantic interest the way Sarah felt about John B.

Reluctant to admit it to yourself, the thought pierced through, leaving you with a confusing mixture of disappointment, anger, and self-annoyance for even entertaining the idea that Rafe could ever feel that way about you.

As Rafe persisted in berating his sister, you dismissed any contemplation of what might have happened between the two of you if she had arrived just a few minutes later.

“Hello?”

“I'm in here.” Rose’s voice, sharp as a razor’s edge, resonated through the foyer of the Camerons’ residence. As you entered the kitchen, you discovered her gingerly picking up the remnants of a shattered vase from the tiled floor. You offered to help her, but she brushed you off with a dismissive gesture.

“No need, honey. I wouldn’t want you getting hurt.” She said, smiling unconvincingly.

Mr. Cameron burst into the room a few seconds later. His dominating presence charged the atmosphere, his eyes glinting like ice. It was only when his eyes landed on you that his demeanour changed.

“Oh, Y/N. Thanks for coming on such short notice. We’ll only need you for two hours. Sarah should be back by then.” He smiled, though it did not reach his eyes.

“Uh, sure. Of course.” You replied. You scurried out of his path as he snatched a file and car keys from the kitchen table.

“I’ll be in the car.” He informed Rose tersely, eliciting a stiff nod from her.

Feeling Rose’s disquiet, you intervened to clear the shattered vase. “I can pick these up for you, Rose.” You said warmly.

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” You assured her with a nod.

“Thank you.” She murmured, her smile returning. “Wheeze is upstairs doing her homework. I’m sorry about all of this. Things are a bit crazy today.” She said, her grip on her bag and sunglasses tightening as if she were holding onto her sanity by a thread. And with that, she vanished, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the shattered pieces of the vase.

Having cleared the wreckage, you climbed the stairs to find Wheezie immersed in her studies in her room, her headphones firmly in place. You inquired if she needed anything or was okay, but she appeared blissfully unaware of the chaos that had unfolded. You marvelled at her ability to concentrate amidst the turmoil, yet you couldn’t dispel the nagging suspicion that the Camerons hid a dark secret beneath their façade of rich superiority. With a sigh, you left Wheezie to her schoolwork and descended the stairs as the sound of the living room door being opened roused your suspicions.

As you passed the living room, your heart sank at the sight of Rafe. He was sitting on his usual chair, swaying back and forth, lost in a jumble of incoherent words. His eyes were bloodshot and streaked with tears. You hurried towards him, your mind racing with worry and fear. You sat down on the floor in front of him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

He responded with a roar that shook you to your core. The words that spilled out of Rafe’s mouth were like knives, cutting deep into your soul. He berated himself with a ferocity that was frightening, how he was a failure in his father’s eyes, how he was nothing but a disappointment. You placed a comforting hand on his knee, giving it a gentle squeeze, trying to offer some solace amidst his torment.

His eyes flicked to your hand, then to your face, as if seeing you for the first time. Rafe’s jaw tightened, his eyes raw with emotions you couldn’t decipher. There was anger there, yes, but there was something else too – something deeper, more primal.

“Play something.” He suddenly demanded.

“I can- I can get someone for you. Do you want me to call your-”

“No. I don’t want that. I want you to play.” He almost sneered at you.

“Okay.” You whispered tentatively.

You made your way to the piano, your fingers trembling with anticipation. As you began to play, the haunting melody flowed from your fingertips.

As the tender notes from the piano enveloped you, the outside world ceased to exist. Within the protective cocoon of the Cameron's living room, you hoped your music might be a balm for Rafe’s pain. But this sanctuary of sound was violently shattered when an aggressive tug at your hair ripped you from your reverie.

Suddenly, Rafe was there, his fingers cruelly ensnared in your hair, exerting a force so savage it wrenched your head backward, choking off your breath and stilling the music in one brutal tug. The once harmonious room was now charged with an electrifying tension, your eyes captured and held hostage by the ferocity in his.

This was not the Rafe you knew.

The Rafe towering above you appeared utterly transformed. Unrecognizable in every way. Gone was the Rafe who had shared countless evenings filled with laughter and sharing stories. Gone was the anchor that made you feel connected and safe.

Instead, frustration etched itself onto his face like a battle scar, while his dilated pupils revealed an intensity you had never witnessed before, oscillating between your fear-stricken eyes.

His gaze dipped to your parted lips as you let out the breath you were holding, and before you could react, before you could appease him, Rafe captured your lips with his.

You froze. Paralyzed against Rafe's lips. Shock stole your breath away.

Time stopped in an instant as you grappled with the thought that this was a dream, a surreal nightmare. But that fragile notion shattered like glass as Rafe's movements became evident. His lips melded against yours like clay taking form. Hard and desperate, his kiss abruptly catapulted you back into the chilling reality that this was, without a doubt, happening.

Your instinct for survival surged as your fight-or-flight response kicked in. You attempted to push him away, but Rafe tightened his grip on your hair and yanked harder, forcing your submission, his tongue plunging into your mouth when you whined in protest.

The taste of alcohol on Rafe’s tongue was bitter and overwhelming. You tried to convince yourself that this was the reason behind Rafe's behaviour. Any moment now, he would realize his mistake, any moment he would let you go. But instead, Rafe's fingers sank into the hollow of your jaw, holding it open while his tongue explored the warm interior of your mouth.

You whimpered softly as his tongue twirled against yours with ferocity. Rafe adjusted his hand in your hair and gripped tighter, making you cry out as pain surged through your scalp and neck. The sound didn't deter him, as he forced your head back drinking from your mouth greedily.

Discordant notes rang out as you lashed out wildly, reaching for anything you could hold onto for balance. Your hands found Rafe's bicep and you dug your nails into his skin, trying to pull his hand away as he kissed you like a man possessed.

Your entire body was inflamed with sensations you had never experienced before as pleasure and pain bled into one. Your scalp ached yet your body felt hot. Your nipples were suddenly sensitive to your sweater's scraggly wool while you ached between your legs for something you had not experienced before. The whirlwind of sensations new and overwhelming within you made your eyes flutter shut on their own, your hands sliding up Rafe's wrist as you held on for balance.

Rafe's mouth worked over yours with an intensity so raw that your protests turned into breathless moans and frantic gasps as you succumbed to his kiss.  Your tongue tentatively meets his stroke for stroke.  Rafe growled in approval and you could feel him smile into the kiss, his tongue stoking the fire deep within you and just as quickly as it started, Rafe abruptly pulled away leaving you shaking and struggling for air.

Your heart raced within your chest as you abruptly pushed yourself off the piano bench, nearly causing it to tip over in your haste. Hand clutching your chest, you struggled to catch your breath, hastily wiping away tears that had unknowingly streamed down your cheeks. 

A fleeting glance at Rafe revealed his heavy breathing, his mouth agape in quick, shallow pants, and his pupils dilated, tinged with a faint hint of blue. Yet, it was the expression etched upon his face that sent a wave of terror crashing over you. 

Rafe's eyes showed no remorse.

Instead, you saw an overwhelming hunger within them that made your blood run cold. Rafe’s gaze moved down from your stunned face over your trembling body.  The danger that emanated from him made your knees buckle.

You took a step back, your mind whirling with fear and apprehension. But Rafe stepped forward, his eyes locked onto yours with determination.

"I-- I need to check on Wheezie. See what she'd like for dinner," you whispered, your voice shaking as you inched backwards toward the door. You turned to run but it was too late.

Rafe reached out and snatched the hem of your sweater, yanking you towards him. You struggled to break free, twisting and thrashing like a scared kitten in his grip but Rafe was relentless. His other hand reached for your waist as he pulled you close.  His nose and lips trailed the back of your neck and into your hairline and he groaned as he breathed you in. With a jab of your elbow into his rib you wriggled free.  It wasn't enough to wound him but it gave you the head start needed to run.

You dashed from the room, Rafe's pursuit relentless. His outstretched fingers grazed your sweater, narrowly missing its mark. It wasn't until you sprinted up the stairs that he abandoned the chase. You didn't need to glance back to feel his gaze on you.  The tendrils of his breathless laugh reverberated down the corridor.

You burst into Wheezie's room, a hot mess of tears and fear. You made up some excuse about feeling unwell and had to go home immediately. After calling Rose and arranging for a replacement babysitter for Wheezie, you sat in her room and waited for the sitter to arrive.

You didn't see Rafe when you left, and you thanked God for that. You knew that if you saw him, you would break down crying, and you couldn't bear to show him any more weakness. But the tears came anyways, hot and heavy, as soon as you got home. How could you have been so stupid? You knew all the rumors about him, knew that he wasn't a good guy, and yet somehow, you thought in your warped mind that he was different. A decent human being who was simply misunderstood.

It wasn't like you didn't see the signs. They were always there, staring you right in the face. The blatant flirting, the staring, the way he undressed you with his gaze. You dismissed every red flag, thinking he couldn't like you in that kind of way because you were not the type of girl Rafe Cameron would go for and you certainly weren't the type of girl Rafe Cameron would kiss.

And it wasn't just the kiss that scared you. It was the fact that Rafe had no intention of stopping. It was the way he held onto you, the way he made you feel like you were drowning in a sea of desire. He was a predator, relentless in his pursuit of you, and as you thought about how he grabbed onto your clothes his lips tracing your neck even as you protested you couldn't help but cry even harder.

No. There was no way you were setting foot in that house again. Not after the way Rafe kissed you, not after what he was determined to get out of you.

Over the next few weeks, Rose's texts kept coming, each one more insistent than the last. But you knew better than to give in to her demands. You couldn't go back to that house, not after what had happened with Rafe. It was too dangerous, too risky, and you couldn't afford to let your guard down again.

You thought about telling her what had happened with Rafe, but the thought of it made your stomach turn. How could you explain what had happened without sounding like a fool? That you had been hanging out with her stepson for months, that you had let things get out of hand?

You had every intention of never setting foot in that house again. But then Rose sent you a text, asking if you were available on Saturday. They were desperate, she said, and willing to offer triple what they usually paid. Rafe and Sarah were going to a game and the lady who was supposed to look after Wheezie had a family emergency.

You were going to turn them down, again, but the truth was that since you had dropped them as a client, it had been difficult to find other work. So, against your better judgement, you agreed, but only after Rose confirmed that she and Mr Cameron would be home long before Sarah and Rafe returned.

As the day of the babysitting gig approached, a sense of foreboding settled in the pit of your stomach. You knew that you shouldn't go, that it was too risky, too dangerous. But the promise of easy money was too tempting to ignore. And so, against your better judgement, you found yourself standing in front of the Cameron's house once again, your heart racing with a mix of fear and anticipation.

As you approached the front door, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. Rose had texted you on your way over, telling you that she would be getting ready and to let yourself in. But when you rang the doorbell and received no answer, you began to worry. Still, you didn't think anything of it when you turned the door handle and found that it was unlocked. You stepped inside and called out for Wheezie and Rose, but the house was silent.

Making your way to the kitchen, you put down your bag and pulled out your phone. You texted Rose and Wheezie to let them know that you had arrived and were in the kitchen, just in case Wheezie was plugged in. But as you waited for a response, your heart sank.

Something wasn't right. You could feel it.

You had been to the Camerons' house many times and had let yourself in on a few occasions when they were too busy to answer the door. None of this was new but it felt different. An ominous feeling washed over you. But just as you began to worry, the sound of footsteps in the hallway interrupted your thoughts, and you sighed in relief.

As you called out for Rose, a sudden hush fell over the room, broken only by the sound of footsteps approaching. You looked up, hoping to see Rose's familiar figure, but instead, your eyes met the last person you expected to see: Rafe.

His presence was jarring, like a thunderclap on a clear day. Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to make sense of his unexpected appearance. But before you could utter a word, Rafe's murmur cut through the silence like a knife.

"Nah, not Rose," he said with a smile.

Fear took hold of you as you realized that he must have had something to do with Rose's texts in the first place. You stepped back, fear making your knees buckle.

"Where's Rose?" you whispered, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively, as if shielding yourself from him.

“Don’t worry about it,” he drawled, his voice low and dangerous.

“Don’t come near me,” you said firmly as Rafe rounded the kitchen island towards you. Immediately, you moved in the opposite direction away from him.

“I… I just… I needed to talk to you, like, a little bit. Is that okay?” he said, opening his hands to placate you.

“Did Rose actually text me?”

“She did,” Rafe soothed. “But then I, uh… I heard you’d be here tonight instead of Pat, and well… seeing you was more important to me than some game.” His eyes trailed over your face, studying your every reaction.

“Where’s Wheezie?”

“With Sarah.”

You shook your head, your mind reeling with disbelief. How could Rafe have orchestrated this situation for you to be alone with him without any of the Camerons noticing? But as if he heard your thoughts, a sly smile curled his lips and he chuckled softly.

“I told Rose I’d watch over Wheeze so she could catch an early ferry,” Rafe explained, his hands moving in slow, deliberate gestures, connecting invisible dots as he spoke. “After Rose left I gave my ticket to Wheeze.”

You felt like you were going to be sick.

“Look, I know the last time I was a little… a little intense…”

“Intense!” You choked. You would have laughed if the whole thing wasn’t so heartbreaking.

“Yes, and I’m -- I'm really sorry about that, okay? I really am.”

"You tried to ra-”

"No! No, no, I would never..." Rafe rushed towards you and you immediately backed away. He froze mid-step as you cowered, his hands still raised in surrender.  "I’m sorry things were confusing and it looked that way but I wasn't trying to hurt you. God, I- l’m-" Rafe sighed, deflated his hands landed on his hips, he looked away as he pressed his tongue on the inside of his cheek.

"You're sorry it looked that way?" you whispered your voice trembling. Rafe's words echoed in your mind while memories of that day in all its menacing glory flooded back. You looked at him flabbergasted.

"Rafe...you... you were kissing me-”

“I know but I-”

“And touching me--"

He breathed out a laugh "Come on, you know I was only-,"

“Without my consent, Rafe.”

He was silent with that and you hoped your words had finally sunk in, had finally made him understand how terrifying he was in that moment.

“Then you chased me.  You chased me like some...” you couldn’t even finish the sentence.  You didn’t know how to finish the sentence.  You were so hurt and confused.  That your friend could do something like that to you. “I don’t even know who you are. I- I don’t think I ever did,” you whispered.

Rafe's eyes landed on yours with that. His gaze was dark and intense, and for a moment, you thought you had gotten through to him because he nodded slowly. But then he let out a humourless chuckle, reminding you of the one he gave post-chase, and any hope of reaching him dissipated.

"You know, it’s funny ‘cause you say that...” Rafe said coldly, a hand gesturing to you as if trying to grasp his own thoughts “But you’re not entirely innocent in all of this, are you?” 

“I don't-- I don't understand."

“Do you have any idea what you're doing to me, huh, Y/N?

"Raf—"

"What kind of mental shit you put me through? Nah, you don't. You don't think about that, do you?" he asked, his hands gesturing toward you as his eyes narrowed and he stared you down. You felt a shiver run down your spine as you realized the gravity of Rafe's words. It was as if he was confessing to a darker truth, a mental anguish that he had been helplessly consumed by, something unintentionally sparked within him by your actions.

"I have my dad on my back talking about legacies, our family business and preparing me for that shit meanwhile Sarah’s running around town doing god knows what with some loser fucking up our family name. I have real shit to deal with...” he gave out a bitter laugh his hand clutched to his chest as he confessed.

“But even with all of that all I can think about every minute of every fucking day, is you.” Rafe's voice was raw and anguished. His hand moved up to his ear as he slowly walked towards you.

"It's like you've crawled into my brain, you know? Like I’m under some fucking spell with your music and your voice and your-" His eyes trailed down your body just as his hand followed the motion, and you shuddered. He was consuming you with his gaze every sinful thought etched across his features.

"Nah, you made me do this…” he said bitterly, his jaw clenched tight.

“Rafe--”

“You did and now I'm the bad guy because I had a moment of weakness. But you know what? Fuck, it.” he shrugged nonchalantly. “Fuck it, i’ll take responsibility for my part in this--”

“Rafe--”

“That’s what real men do, right? Take responsibility for their shit and I’m all about being accountable, so yeah, I kissed you.” He said nodding slowly. “But I’m not sorry.”

His words made you recoil, disbelief etched across your face as you stared at him.

“Yeah, you want me to pretend like I am. Act apologetic but I won’t. I'm not sorry and you should quit actin’ like you didn't enjoy it."

His words were like a punch to the gut, and you could feel the weight of his accusation settling in your stomach. Stunned, you opened your mouth to protest, but no words came out. A dry, humorless laugh left you instead. Rafe simply nodded slyly as he resumed his steps towards you, and as you stepped backwards, your back collided with the kitchen counter.

“That’s- that’s not true.”

“No?” he asked faux confused.

“It’s not- that’s not fair”

“Isn’t it?” he tutted.

"Rafe, listen to me," you whispered shakily, but he was already leaning in, his eyes dark and clouded.

"No. No, no, you listen.”  he rasped, circling in and looking down on you, his lips pouted as he leaned into the shell of your ear, “You were moaning Y/N- No, don’t do that.  Don’t shake your head, and act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Don't stand there and pretend this whole fucking thing is one-sided. You were moaning into my mouth… and you...you held on to me, yeah? I didn’t force you to do those things."

"Rafe--”

“That was all you princess. So you gotta ask yourself. What kinda girl are you to be into that, hm?” Rafe whispered as he leaned into you.  “What kinda girl would moan like a whore when a guy manhandles her…”

“I didn’t- I wasn’t. I wanted you to stop Rafe and you-”

Rafe chuckled before you could even finish your sentence.

“Is that what was happening while you were kissing me back? Nah, see I know what your problem is. I know, I know, I know…” he repeated softly, as he gently rested his hands on your hips. “I know why you ran when deep down you wanted it.”

You opened your mouth to protest only for Rafe to push his body up against yours.  The hard wall of his body renders you speechless. “We eye fucked each other for months,”  he whispered, as he looked down at you.  His eyes darted to your lips as he licked his own.  “You wanted it.” He said coldly.

"But I get it. It was overwhelming... too much... too soon... hm?" he murmured as his nose grazed yours. "I should have approached you more patiently. I realize that now," he acknowledged with a slow nod. "I should have been gentle with you, and I had every intention to. But I -- I wanted you so bad that day that I couldn't think straight. I'm thinking straight now, though."

“Rafe...” you breathed out, your hands on his chest to push him away but not quite having the strength to do so.  Rafe must have picked up on this because he leaned in, his lips close to yours.

“You keep saying my name but you’re not telling me to stop...” Rafe whispered as his fingers caressed your cheek.  With a gentle touch, he lifted your chin, and you willingly yielded. His caress made you sway, your mind growing hazy and confused. To regain your balance, you closed your eyes.

“Why aren’t you telling me to stop, hm?” he whispered.

You could feel the electricity between you as Rafe leaned in, lips hovering over yours and you tilted your head up slightly, closing the distance, only to be met with nothing. When you opened your eyes, you were met with Rafe’s hooded ones a victorious smile creeping across his lips.  

“Come on” Rafe whispered, and before you could protest Rafe laced his fingers in yours and gently tugged you towards the living room.

Seated at the piano, Rafe smoothly lifted the fallboard with ease.

"Play something for me," he husked, gesturing for you to take a seat beside him on the bench. You felt a flutter of nervousness as you perched yourself next to him, unsure of where to start. You couldn't comprehend how you had gone from rejecting his advances to this moment of willing compliance and acceptance.

Rafe watched you intently. You had been up-close to Rafe before, but never this close. Not this intimately. Your mind became blank, overwhelmed with the prospect of playing for him.

"I...I don't know what to..." you stuttered.

"Anything, anything at all," Rafe whispered, his eyes studying your every move.

Taking a deep breath, you steadied your trembling fingers on the keys and began to release the notes,  slowly at first, but gaining confidence with every passing moment.

“I noticed you, you know,” Rafe rasped. His knuckles suddenly grazed your cheek, and you flinched. “The first time you came to babysit Wheeze, I noticed you.” Rafe followed his knuckles as he moved them across your jaw.

“I remember thinking you were beautiful… shy… innocent…” Opening his hand, his fingers trailed down your neck, and your breath hitched.

“You were wearing this exact sweater…” His fingers splayed over your collarbone as they moved slowly down to your chest.

“What are you hiding under here, hm?” he asked softly. “What are you hiding under these baggy clothes?”

You shied away from his touch, your hands withdrawing from the keys of the piano.

"No. None of that. I’ll tell you when to stop,” he said his voice stern yet soft.  Your eyes glanced at his as Rafe inched closer.  “I’ll tell you when to stop.” he iterated slowly. “Start again.”

Swallowing you placed your hands on the keys while the music resumed from your fingertips.

Rafe shifted closer his leg flushed against your own.  He wrapped his arm over the back of you and hooked it to the other side of the bench. Leaning in, his nose ghosted your neck.

“Raf-”

“Shhhh…”His nose nudged into your hairline.  His other hand on your chest continued its exploration.  It moved lower cupping your tit over your sweater.  The gasp you make made Rafe breathe even heavier, a deep pur coming from the back of his throat.

“Please-” you whispered shakily.

“I’ve always wanted to touch you, you know that?  Every time you played I’d think about what you’d feel like... what you’d look like, moaning for me.  I wanna hear you moan for me.”  

Determined Rafe’s hand moved lower until it dipped under your sweater and you gasped when his warm fingers brushed the skin of your stomach. His other hand let go of the piano stool and was now under your sweater squeezing your tit through your bra.

“Rafe--”

“Keep playing” he whispered against your neck and you did. His hand at your stomach moved lower, finding the button on your jeans he unbutton it with one deft move and your hands falter.

“Keep playing” he murmured, face nudging into your neck, his lips pressing soft kisses to your throat.  “I wanna hear you play while I touch you”  

The sensation of Rafe's hands on your body was almost lost in the overwhelming numbness that had taken over you. His strong hand leisurely tugged at the waistband of your panties seeking to touch what lay beneath, while his other hand snaked under your bra. He caressed and teased your nipple until a soft sob erupted from you.

Rafe moved his hand lower, slipping it between your wet folds and pushing his middle finger inside of you. You cried out, the intensity of sensation causing you to clutch onto Rafe's arm for support, music abandoned.

“It’s okay “ Rafe breathed deeply into your neck, as he roughly peppered your neck with kisses.  “You're okay. Just breathe...” and as he said those comforting words he gently wormed another slender finger passed your slippery folds and into you.

You hissed, trying to move away from the burning stretch of his long fingers. Your nails dug into the flesh of his wrist with enough force to draw blood but Rafe determined as ever slowly moved his fingers in and out of you, each time inserting them a little deeper until it reached his signet ring.  

"You've had more than one finger before?" he asked hotly against your neck. You shook your head no, gritting your teeth in an effort to endure him stretching you further still. Rafe groaned and nipped softly at your jawline, "Fuck, I can tell. I can barely move them. But you're a good girl, aren't you? You're taking them well and afterwards, I'm gonna train you to take all of me."

Rafe's lips trailed tender kisses down the length of your neck, then his mouth closed hungrily around the sensitive skin. His two fingers moved inside you and each slow thrust drew a soft moan from your lips.

With surety, he curled his fingers in a come-hither motion, barely grazing your clit with his thumb. The sensation was overwhelming and foreign, causing you to gasp and cum embarrassingly fast. Your pussy contracting around his fingers, milking them for all they were worth.

“Oh Fuuckk…” Rafe hissed. “You liked that, I can feel it.“ He sighed utterly mesmerised. “Well, if you like that...” Rafe groaned resting his forehead against the side of your face and planting soft kisses on your cheek. “You’re gonna love this.”

With his bottom lip caught between his teeth, Rafe's probing fingers started their relentless hunt for something deep within you. Suddenly, those searching digits found what they were looking for - a spot that caused you to arch over and clutch his hand as you cried out despite your best efforts.

“Oh- there it is” he chuckled softly, shunting his hand and hitting that spot over and over again with a speed and force that knocked the breath out of you, while his thumb expertly rubbed your clit and the fingers of his other hand mercilessly pulled and twisted your nipple.

“OhmyGOD!” you cried.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck my hand. Just like that.”

Rafe kept at it, even as your nails scraped along his wrist and arm for purchase.  Even as you screamed and tried to scissor your legs closed to shut him out. None of it mattered as your eyes crossed and you felt your orgasm raw and violent crash over you. 

Bucking violently into Rafe’s hand, you could feel your release seep through your jeans and onto the piano bench. Pooling and overflowing you could hear it trickle onto the hardwood floor and still, Rafe kept going, kept finger fucking you.

Lost in a sea of agonising pleasure you could do nothing but slump against him and take it, your hips stuttering, your mouth sagging as you whimpered and gasped.

Rafe moaned against you, planting soft kisses on the column of your throat. He stilled his hand, his fingers buried deep inside while you desperately tried to catch your breath.

"Seems my fingers are just as talented as yours, hm?" he said with a breathless chuckle. His nose trailed along your neck, while his tongue darted out to capture the perspiration nestled there. 

Gently, Rafe removed his digits while you gazed in shock, unable to voice a single word as he brought the wet fingers to his lips and ravenously lapped up your fluids with a contented hum.

“This is too much.” you said hoarsely  “I can’t-- I can't do this. No more, Rafe. No more,” you said weakly, trying to remove his hand from your breast and move away from his hold only for Rafe to seize your wrist painfully in his grasp.

"No more?" Rafe chuckled darkly, his gaze fixed on you with dilated pupils. "No more?" he repeated, inching closer as he shook his head. "Nah, baby. No. We're just getting started..."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thank you for reading.  Thanks for liking and reblogging. PART 2 / MASTERLIST

[polyo-nym-y]

Delightful Debauchery

[CH.1: When Tainted Souls Meet.]

Human! Alastor x Human! Fem! Reader

[Word Count: 2,844 ]

[Content Warnings: This Ch. is SFW, however, the story will delve into NSFW, So minors are still asked to NOT INTERACT. This story will eventually focus on exploring sex as well as darker themes revolving around Alastor being a serial killer (gore/blood/death). But for this Ch. there isn’t much to warn about!]

Once you allow blood to spill on your hands it’ll become a stain you’ll never wash away. No matter how clean your skin may appear, the etching of your sin will forever follow you. Permeating layers of flesh and seeping into your very soul.

You know you’re damned to an eternity in Hell. It’s something you have come to terms with rather quickly. So, you thought, might as well spend the time you have left on earth however you please. You’ve already sealed your fate, now it’s time to enjoy life amongst the living whilst it lasts.

The sky was clear, allowing the sun to beat down without anything obscuring its rays. Your skin felt sticky as heat weighed heavily in the thick and muggy air. You stood on an unshaded sidewalk, your eyes following the brick and wooden exterior of the building in front of you. A sign outside read in golden lettering ‘Crescent City Radio Station, WWNO 999 on your AM dial!’.

By now you must’ve read that sign a million times, your brain lagging trying to process that you were actually here. The folder you brought with you was being used as a fan, desperately trying to cool yourself off. The mix of the humid heat and anxiety had you teetering on overstimulation.

“C’mon, don’t clam up* now.” You quickened your fanning as the air you created lightly blew your hair back. “You came all this way...”

You continued muttering to yourself as you willed your feet to move from the sidewalk. Taking hesitant steps, you approached the building's front. Your eyes following the ornate etching on the front window. The interior curtains were closed, allowing no sneak peeks inside.

Your gloved fingers twitch over the door handle. After taking one last breath you force your signature smile, a tool you used often. Opening the door, you slowly entered as your eyes swept over the lobby space. The cooler air of the building soothed you as your shoulders relaxed. You stood in the middle of the lobby with curious eyes. Soft music played from a gramophone behind the front desk. The ceiling was high and the space was clean. Arguably, one of the fancier places you’ve seen as of recent.

So enthralled by the interior, you hadn’t noticed the set of eyes burning holes into you as you approached the front desk. As you turned and settled your eyes forward you flinched back as you were met with a cloud of smoke being blown at you. The receptionists' annoyed stare was accompanied by an insincere smile as she ashed her cigarette into the nearby ashtray. “Hm? Oh no I’m still here, love. Mhm, yeah.” She spoke into the phone that was wedged against her ear with her shoulder. “Just a drab dame* waltzed in so it’s nothing important.”

You couldn’t stop your nose from scrunching up as your eyes narrowed down on the seated women. But the receptionist seemed to pay no mind as she belted out a haughty laugh at whatever was said on the other end of the phone. Clearing your throat, you stepped up to the front desk and settled your gloved hands atop the shiny wooden surface. “Excuse me-” you hesitated as the receptionist's sharp glare shot back up to you. “This is actually something important, if you wouldn't mind?” Not like it's your job or anything, you thought to yourself.

You watched as her stare twisted into a sneer directed up to you. “One second, Val.” With a big huff she would drop the phone from her ear and press the mic end against her chest to ‘mute’ it. “Ugh, what do you want? I’m kind of busy here.”

Your gaze remained narrowed but you managed to bring back your smile, albeit tense. “Terribly busy, I can see.”

“Tch. Listen, girlie-“ The phone still in her hand was lifted to point up at you. “Whoever you’re here to see doesn’t have time to talk with fans no matter how important you think it is-“

You interrupted her with a laugh, “Hah! No- I’m not a fan- well, I’m not not a fan-“ you paused trying to stop yourself from tripping over your own words. The rude interaction caught you off guard, with your nerves already being high. “I’m here to discuss the possibility of employment.”

“The station isn’t looking to hire, hun.” The woman stretched her shoulders back with a scoff. “Not to mention all the high pillows* are very busy-“

You glanced past her to the clock on the wall. “Actually, it’s noon.” Your eyes met the womens once more as you softened your expression to match your faux-smile. “I was hoping to speak with Mr. Heartfelt specifically. Based on his broadcasting schedule he should be taking a coffee break right now-“ you saw the concerned and disgusted look on the receptionist's face as she slowly stubbed her cigarette out. “Or so I’ve heard, uhm. Just- Please, at least ask him.”

“Not a fan, huh?” She looked you up and down as she set the phone down on the counter without hanging it up. “If it’s that egg* then I could care less if he's busy or not. So, sure. Especially if it means you'll leave me alone.” She said with a small shrug as she rolled her chair over to an intercom. Bringing the speaker to her ear as she pressed Alastors call button. Waiting only a moment for it to be picked up before she was smirking into the mic, “Mr. Heartfelt~, you have someone here for a meeting with you.”

You bounced nervously on your heels as you tried to listen in on whatever answer she was given. The receptionist's eyes flickered over to you as she held a toothy grin and hummed into the speaker. “Mhmm.” She lifted her free hand up to inspect her nails, idly. “Yeah, no you didn't have this on your calendar, mhm.” You cringed a bit and tried to reach out to her but she just continued speaking into the intercom. “Oh no, she made it very clear she was in fact not a fan.” She gave you a mocking thumbs up.

Your mouth opened in horror as the woman before you barked out a snobby laugh like a small purse dog. Unconsciously, your fingers tensed on the paper folder you were holding. Your head begins to race with anxiety at the fact this wretched woman might have just ruined your first impression.

But you will yourself to take a deep breath as the receptionist hangs the intercom and rolls back to her original spot. Her dark slender fingers picking the phone back up as she waves you off and gestures to the hall at her left. “Fourth door.” Was all she said before turning her attention back to her phone conversation. Despite your annoyance you offered a thank you. To which she groaned in response, “Ugh, dry up*.”

As the receptionist spun in her chair to completely turn her back to you, your smile fell flat. If I do get hired then she’s going to be a problem, you weighed your options as you slowly stepped around the front and down the hall you were directed to.

Anxiety won the battle against annoyance as you felt it's nauseating grip settle back in your chest. You found yourself in front of the fourth door quicker than you would've liked as you nervously inspected it. A beautiful dark wood with a golden plate reading Alastors name. For a moment, as you heard the receptionist bark out another laugh in the lobby, you debated on just leaving. But you thought, what do I have to lose?

Gently knocking your knuckles on the door, you leaned forward to listen for a reply. A muffled ‘Come in.’ was given and you flinched as if you didn’t expect him to answer. Your gloved hands fussed with your clothes and hair. Once you felt somewhat put together you settled your hand on the handle and slowly pushed the door open. Taking a single step over the threshold your eyes glanced across the office that the door opened into. Your smile shining as you began your practiced speech, “I apologize Mr. Heartfelt. I know I’m interrupting your busy schedule- and I must thank you for even giving me a chance to speak with you.” Your words were laced with perfectly crafted faux-confidence. But silence fell between you two as soon as your eyes met Alastors. An ominous chill seemed to fill the already cool office as you felt goosebumps rise on your skin. A feeling consumed both you and Alastor at that very moment, weighing heavy in the air like the humidity outside. But you couldn’t quite put your finger on it- it was an odd queasy feeling that slipped down your throat and settled in your stomach like a hard pill to swallow.

But the instinctual warning you felt in your gut was pushed to the side when you really took in Alastors appearance. Because, by God, everyone knew Alastor for his charming voice and radio persona. But to find out he had the looks to match? Now that had your brain nearly short circuiting. Your eyes ran over him unabashedly. Tan hands, long arms, broad shoulders and a proud chest. Fitted button up beneath a red vest with a perfect black bowtie and rounded glasses that rested atop the bridge of his nose. Though, what really caught your eye was his hair, cut in a style you had never seen before. If you looked closely, between the dark strands you could see the beginning of grays peppering throughout. Really the only physical indication of his age. You had to assume he must be in his forties and yet the man before didn’t look a day over thirty.

Alastor sat behind a large wooden desk with his hands folded together in front of him. His eyes caught yours, forcing your wandering gaze into tense eye contact. Stunned, you watched his eyes crinkle as his neutral smile grew into a grin. The sight of your wide eyes and lightly tinted cheeks was enough to distract him from his own instinctual unease.

You watched as his eyes slowly raked down to your toes before rushing back up. Clearing his throat he pushed his glasses up as he sent a wide smile to you. “Oh, no worries about that, dear. You caught me at a perfect time.” You knew that. “Please, sit.” He gestured a hand to the chair in front of his desk. Keeping his eyes trained on you as you seated yourself. He paid attention to your movements, how you sat and the expression you gave him. “I know Velvette said you were here to inquire about a job? I hope you weren’t misinformed- but we aren’t currently hiring.”

With your ankles crossed you sat with a straight back. Hands fiddling with the edge of the folder as it lay in your lap, your only outward cue of nervousness. “Oh, no, I am aware the radio station wasn’t advertising for workers.” Alastors elbows rested on his desk with clasped hands. His eyes staring into your own with what felt like never-waning intensity. As you swallowed audibly, you swore you saw his smile widen.

“And yet you are still here.” He said amused as his eyes narrowed. He was intrigued and so even though he had no intent on hiring you, he let you continue. “Why is that, Mrs-?”

“Miss.” You corrected before giving your name. “And it’s truly an honor to be meeting you, Mr. Heartfelt-”

He rose a single hand up to stop you, “The pleasure is all mine, dear. But please, Alastor is fine.” He leaned back into his chair as you heard it creak. His eyes darted down to the folder in your hands. “But as you were saying?”

Your eyes shot down to the folder he was staring at. “Oh, yes, well-“ Gently, you slid the folder across the desk towards him. “I’m a writer- researcher- journalist. Whatever you may need I promise I can provide.” As Alastor picked up the folder and opened it you cringed inwardly. Seeing how crinkled it was now from your constant nervous handling of it.

“This is..” His eyes read reports and details about certain events he has already reported on. Scripts for news readings that happened recently, many of which having details he himself hadn’t gotten. But what had his eyes widening was the last bulk of paper all reporting on the string of serial murders that Louisiana has faced within the decade or so.

“It’s my work. As you can see I take my work seriously and I’m able to get details you won’t find anywhere else.”

“How long have you lived here?” There were testimonies from people within the local community, names he recognized. Yet, he didn’t recognize you.

“I arrived here last week.” You lied through your teeth.

His eyes shot up to you as one long finger pointed against your papers. “This was all done within a week?”

“Yes, sir.” You nodded as you began to internally panic. Was the lie too obvious? Usually you're better at this. “For the most part at least. The end which focuses on the Bayou Butcher has been more so a hobby of mine prior to moving here. So some research on that was done previously, I’ll admit.”

You didn’t notice the way his jaw clenched at your words. “Dangerous don’t you think? A sweet belle like you chasing after a killer.”

You laughed, earning a surprised look from Alastor. “I appreciate the concern but I can handle myself.”

His smile grew into a smirk as he stifled a mocking laugh. “I’m sure you can, darling, I’m sure you can...” He sighed deeply as he held the folder up to feign reading it more intently. One hand adjusting his glasses as he hummed. “But against a killer like this? Overestimating in one’s own abilities often leads to an early demise.”

“Underestimating in others will lead to worse.” You replied without skipping a beat.

Quick witted girl, he thought to himself. Such a young thing coming here with such a devastatingly good eye for this. Too bad, too bad.

“Your work is impressive, I’d be a fool to deny that.” He slowly stood from his seat as he slid the closed folder back to you.

You stood up abruptly to match him as you took your folder. “So does that mean-?”

“You’re hired? Heavens no!” He laughed as he rounded the desk and approached you. The height difference between you and him became alarmingly apparent as he stood beside you. Bending at the waist to ghost a hand on the small of your back as he gently ushered your frozen form towards his office door. “I did tell you we aren’t hiring, dear.”

“What- no, wait, Mr. Heartfelt-“ You pushed his hand away from your back and planted your feet. “But you said it was impressive. You read all the details I got- things you never got.”

His lip twitched at the attack to his own work. A bit of malice tainting the sweetness in his tone. “Come back when you have something actually worthwhile, darling. Cause that fancy writing? Ain’t nothin’ special.” For a moment you caught his transatlantic accent drop.

“Worth- WORTHWHILE?! I have connected deaths that the fuzz* haven’t even connected!”

“You’re theorizing. Nothing you have is substantial.”

“What are you expecting?? The killer's identity?” You asked, bewildered by his disregard towards you and your work.

A fire filled those beautiful eyes that looked up at him and he could feel their heat igniting something in him. Lifting one of his hands to rest his fingers over his grinning lips. A poor attempt to hide his amusement. “Yes, actually, that would be something worth my time.”

“Okay, fine.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ll find the killer's identity. Then you’ll hire me, right?”

He straightened his back, caught off guard. But, who was he to push away a game he was certain he’d win? “Hah! Sure, why not-” He tensed as you yanked your glove off and extended a hand up to him. He raised a brow at it as if he had never seen one before.

“Shake on it. If I come back with honest to God proof of the Butchers identity. You have to hire me.” You narrowed your eyes up to him. “Deal?”

Oh, how fun. His hand took yours, completely enveloping it. “Deal.”

Let the game begin.

And without another word he watched you march out of his office, huffing and puffing. He trailed slowly behind to watch you leave through the front doors. A soft chuckle left him as he leaned against the front desk counter.

When he heard Velvette snicker with him he flinched and snapped his gaze down to her.

“Did you hire the dumb dora*?”

“No-“

“Looks like you wanted to~”

He squinted with a strained smile. “Go home, Velvette. You don’t actually work here.”

1920s Slang Used*

*Clam Up: To become silent suddenly.

*Dame: A woman.

*High Pillow: Person at the top, in charge.

*Egg: A man.

*Dry Up: Shut up, get lost.

*Fuzz: Police.

*Dumb Dora: A foolishly simple or dumb woman.

Credit where credits due!

Art Deco Banners: @/saradika

MDNI Banner: @/cafekitsune

Yellow Star Banner: @/cafekitsune

Tags:

@6esiree

[dvrk-moon]

EAT ME UP - JAKE SIM

— synopsis: in which jake knows you’re bad for him, but he just can’t help himself. after all, in the end, the answer is always you. nobody else matters. not even the guy you’re seeing, his friend, sunghoon.

— word count: 20.1k

— warnings: cursing, cheating, sexual relationships, mental health problems, alcohol problems, no smut but things can get heated, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

— featuring: sunghoon, heeseung, jay, aespa ningning, a bit of riize wonbin, mentions of zb1 matthew, girl named ella (fictional)

— genre: fwb, angst, bits of fluff, unrequited love, jake x fem!reader x sunghoon

— playlist: sex - eden, fever - enhypen, bad idea right? - olivia rodrigo, why’d you only call me when you’re high? - arctic monkeys, cologne - beabadoobee, heartbeat - childish gambino

— a/n: this is 100% fiction i don’t think jake is/would be a cheater. this was a monster to complete im just glad it’s over with lol

— taglist: @yyawnjun @lovingvoidgoatee @capri-cuntz

i. HOW DARE YOU, BABY

Sweat formed on your forehead as condensation dripped down your cup. The heat of 30 bodies all condensed into a two bedroom house located just off of campus wasn’t anything new— yet this time it felt almost suffocating. The sequins on your red dress scratched against your skin while you lazily danced to the loud music blasting through the house. It was a Friday night. You had to let all your stress from the week out somehow.

As you went to take another drink from the red solo cup in your left hand, your lips were met with only small remnants of the drink you had poured for yourself earlier. You looked into the cup to find nothing remaining. Rolling your eyes, you made sure to motion to your friend, Ningning, that you’d be headed to the kitchen to get yourself another drink. She nodded at you as you walked away.

Ningning wasn’t someone you could consider yourself best friends with. You didn’t have those. However, she was good for coming to parties with; she knew who to talk to and what to say. You always wanted to be closer to the girl, craving an actual bond between you two rather than just a party buddy. She gave good advice, let you stay over at her apartment multiple times, and seemed to actually care for you, even if you weren’t an open book. There had been times in which you’d almost let her in. 

But it never actually happened. Deep down, you knew it’d probably be no good for you anyways.

Strands of hair stuck to the sweat on your forehead as you weaved your way through unfamiliar faces. The noise usually was a comfort for you; more talking from other people meant less listening to your own thoughts. 

The surrounding music and conversations became a blur as you stumbled your way through a hallway that led to the kitchen on the left hand side. As you walked through the doorway, the noises became slightly more quiet.

You put some distance between the entrance to the room and yourself, finding a corner which was relatively empty and hoisting yourself onto the cool countertop. The second your thighs felt the chilliness of the spot, you let out a deep sigh. You glanced around the room for any familiar faces, but you were slightly too intoxicated to really make out anyone relevant. You rested your head against the wall for a few seconds before leaving your spot and walking up to the “bartender” who was manning the makeshift “bar”. He was someone you’d seen in passing a couple times off campus. You couldn’t remember his name, and you weren’t sure if it was because you were drunk or not.

“Hey again,” he smiled at you. This was probably your eighth drink of the night, and even though Ningning nagged on you about your lack of self control when it came to drinking, you always brushed her off. How would she know what’s good for you, anyways?

You looked at him with a half-assed smile before propping your elbows onto the top of the makeshift bar, “Heyyy..” you drawled out, with a hint of flirting in your tone. 

“Back so soon?” He inquired, grabbing some alcoholic drinks from underneath the “bar”. He ran a hand through his raven-colored hair before looking back up at you, “I swore I just saw you ten minutes ago.”

He was a really good-looking guy. You gave him a flirtatious look, “Oh, you know me. Couldn’t stay away for too long.” 

That was a lie. You knew that as the night started, you’d tell yourself “only one drink, to loosen up my mind”. But that never stuck around. You’d get another drink soon after, and as the night went on, there would be less time between each drink. You lost count of what number drink you were on a bit ago.

“You flatter me. It’s a shame, we never exchange much outside of parties. I’ve never met anyone as forward as you,” he laughed, then asking, “same thing as last time?”

You paused. You couldn’t remember what you got last time, and it was only ten minutes ago. Maybe this was your sign to stop for the night.

“Vodka tonic.”

The man nodded swiftly then turned around to make you your drink. Within moments, the drink was ready. You didn’t fail to notice how his hand brushed yours for longer than you expected while he handed you your drink.

“Don’t get sick, sweetheart.”

You playfully rolled your eyes as you got up from your spot, not failing to give the cute bartender a flirty wave as you headed back towards the entranceway to the room.

Before stepping out, you decided that you needed to just drink all of what was just given to you. The clock on the microwave had read 1:08 AM. You had nothing going on later today anyways. You may as well.

“Bottoms up,” you whispered before drinking the whole cup. 

Stepping back into the haze of the crowd, you felt a new wave of warmth through your body, and this time it wasn’t the claustrophobic feeling of being in a group of unfamiliar faces. The alcohol quickly dispersed through your veins and you found yourself back where you’d last seen Ningning. 

She was with a new crowd of people, but she hadn’t left her previous spot. You didn’t recognize a single face of the people who she was with, but as soon as you began to back away to find anyone else, she noticed you from the corner of her eye and introduced you to the group of people.

“Y/N! There you are,” she grabbed your arm and pulled you towards the group of people that she’d found, “guys, this is Y/N, Y/N, these are my friends from my journalism class.”

You were too busy not paying attention to engage in whoever was supposed to be filling the void of conversation. The vodka tonic was still working its magic, so in a quick moment, you were slipping away from the group and telling Ningning something along the lines of “I’ll see you later”. She gave you a confused look but didn’t push.

You found yourself down that same hallway as earlier, but this time you decided to take a right, which led you to a set of stairs. You usually weren’t one for snooping, but what’s wrong with poking around people’s houses every once in a while?

It was eerily quiet as you made your way up the stairs, the ambiance from the party dwindling down with every step you took upwards. At the landing, there was a hallway and three rooms: two bedrooms and one bathroom. 

The hallway was narrow and dark; clearly, the host(s) had no intent of guests going up here. The bedroom at the end of the hallway was shut, and you were 99% sure that it was occupied by two random strangers hooking up. You couldn’t be too hateful, though, because you were also notorious for leaving parties with men you barely knew. Tonight, you weren’t sure if that was a goal you had in mind.

Next to the shut-doored bedroom, there was an unoccupied bathroom. You were surprised that you weren’t currently in there, hurling up every drink you downed tonight.

You finally brought your gaze to the room directly in front of you- it was the last bed room. The door was wide open and the lights were off, but there was a large window with its curtains drawn open despite the time of night. The window gave you a perspective of how late it was; even if the room was not lit by any electric lights, the moonlight was bright enough for you to make out a few items in the room.

Despite you telling yourself not to, you were so drawn in by the window that you ended up venturing into the room. You didn’t bother flipping on any light switches or anything, it would just be a quick peek anyways. 

You wandered around the room a bit, taking note of a messy bed, an old desk, and a body-length mirror. You stopped in front of the mirror for a second to look at yourself. Your makeup was surprisingly still intact given how sweaty you had been the whole night, and your dress had something stained on the bottom of it. Someone probably spilled some drink on it and you had already forgotten.

Shaking your head, you headed to the window next. It was a window seat. You welcomed yourself into the center spot. 

The window had a direct view of the backyard. It was a cold, gloomy night, so there was a lack of presence outside of the house. You pressed your burning cheek against the cool glass and brought your opposite hand to your forehead, cursing yourself. The rush from your last drink was already wearing off. You needed another drink.

You begrudgingly hoisted yourself up from your spot and stood. The doorway looked less enticing with every step. As you walked closer to the door, you caught sight of a figure coming up the steps. You wouldn’t have enough time to leave the room without being caught for snooping. As shit as this party was, you didn’t want to get kicked out.

You did the next best thing and you crouched down right next to the bed, out of sight of the doorway.

The figure quickly entered the room and shut the door quietly before sitting at the foot of the bed, facing the window. If this person turned their head slightly to the left, you’d be spotted. You held your breath.

The person got up and walked to the window seat, not yet sitting down. You got a good look at them, as their face was lit up by the moonlight.

He was around your age, donned in a pair of black cargo pants and a white hoodie. You’d never seen him before. He had a certain curious nature about him, not only because he was unknown to you, but because he was someone was just as passive as you were at this party.

The man let out an exasperated sigh, eyes not once leaving the nighttime view. He took off his sweatshirt to reveal a plain black T-shirt, it hugging his figure nicely as he tossed his sweatshirt just somewhere else in the room. You watched the sweatshirt land with a thud before you brought your attention back to the man, who was now opening the window to let in a cold breeze.

He let in a deep breath before turning his head towards the empty room, or to what he thought was an empty room.

When he’d opened the window, it’d let more moonlight spill into the room, revealing you from your not-so-secret hiding spot. Once he laid his eyes on you, you both looked like a deer in headlights.

“Hello?” He asked, confused.

You cleared your throat, “Hi. I swear I wasn’t stalking you.” You picked yourself up off of the floor, and sent him an awkward look.

“Wait, you don’t need to leave.”

You thought about it before deciding to either leave and go get another drink, or stay and talk to the stranger. You didn’t need another drink. You knew your body could only take so many more until you’d be unable to be conscious of anything. Plus, you always met new men at these parties, and usually ended up leaving with them. What’s the harm in getting to know a stranger rather than having just a one night stand with them?

You sat yourself down on the bed, facing the stranger. A moment of silence ensued before it was broken by him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.”

You nodded, meeting his gaze, “Yeah, me neither. My name is Y/N.”

“Jake,” he returned, positioning himself so he could see you better, “what brings you up here?”

You quickly became defensive, “I usually don’t go and snoop around at parties if that’s what you’re insinuating-”

“No, no, no! That’s- that’s not at all what I meant,” Jake started, straightening himself, “It’s just that when I take a break from a large group of people, I don’t usually expect to find someone else off where I usually hide.”

You gave him an odd look, “Why do you go to parties if you only go hide, then?” You ran your fingers through a section of your hair, keeping your front strong.

“I like parties, don’t get me wrong,” he begins, getting up from the window seat. He closes and locks the window as he continues, “it’s just that sometimes, when I’m dragged to them against my own will, they lose any sort of fun that they have. May I?” He had made his way to the spot next to you on the bed, not yet sitting down because he wanted to test the waters first. You nodded, scooting over to make room for him. He sat down next to you, using both of his hands to lean on rather than sitting normally.

“I understand. I was just up here for that same reason, I guess. Not really,” you admitted, shrugging and then turning to the boy next to you, propping your hand on the bed towards him.

The amount of moonlight in the room had been lessened due to the fact that Jake closed the window, but his features will still well illustrated. He had big, wondrous eyes, and a full set of lips. His hair was long and unkempt- obviously messy from the heat of the party. You felt overdressed for the occasion in his presence, yet in a sense you still had enough pride to wear your skimpy dress even in the cold months of winter. You didn’t fail to notice how his eyes lingered on your lips as you studied him.

Lifting his gaze from your lips back to your eyes, he slowly responded, “Yeah. I know how you feel.”

You licked your lips before leaning in slightly closer to him, “Do you?” His eyes fell back down to your lips as you slightly held a pout after you asked him the taunting question. He let out a shaky sigh as the distance between you two decreased, and you felt his hot breath on your lips.

Jake had brought one of his hands towards your almost-exposed thigh and hovered over it until you took your own hand and placed his right on your thigh. Almost immediately, you grabbed his face and pulled him in for a kiss.

The kiss was hot, messy, and desperate. Jake repositioned himself so he could hold your waist, and you took the opportunity to move your hands to the nape of his neck. He tasted like alcohol, as did all of your hookups. You knew he was bound to be one the second he sat on the bed, but you didn’t mind. You welcomed him with open arms (and legs).

It was intoxicating. Alcohol aside, you felt a strange new feeling bubble in your chest while the two of you were kissing. You pulled him even closer, signaling that you wanted more.

He moved his hand from your thigh to your ass, grabbing it, which caused you to groan into his mouth, only egging him on further.

Moments later, a knock came from the bedroom door, separating you two. He motioned for you to hide on the floor next to the bed (ironically the exact spot he had found you in earlier) while he went to open the door.

He half-heartedly fixed his hair that you’d somehow made worse from when you first found him, straightened his clothes, and opened the door.

“Matthew? What’s up, man?” He greeted. It sounded like the two knew each other.

“Hey, Jake. I just wanted to come in here and make sure no one was getting busy on my bed, because the door was shut. I was mad worried, y’know?” ‘Matthew’ laughed air-headedly, Jake joining in.

“Yeah, I get it. But nah, nothing going on up here! I just needed a break from the noise, you know me,” Jake sent back, to which Matthew laughed and said, “Yeah man, it’s chill. Keep my room safe, okay?”

The two men did some sort of handshake before Jake closed the door again. 

He wasted no time in closing the distance between you two again, asking, “Where were we?”

You slightly pushed him away, giving him a flirty look before crossing your way to the door, “We should probably leave.” You went to open the door, but Jake caught your wrist.

“Are you leaving? Like, the party?” He asked as nonchalantly as possible, but you could hear the desperation seeping through his words. You nodded, finally opening the door for the two of you.

“Oh, okay, cool. See you around, then?” Jake asked as you began descending the steps. You stopped in your tracks and turned around to meet his gaze, “What? Do you think you’re going to stay here? I thought that we had something to finish.”

Jake quickly got the hint as he stumbled (semi-awkwardly) down the steps towards you, following you as you went to find Ningning to tell her you were leaving with a boy. 

You found her figure quickly, still drinking and still surrounded by the group you had last seen her with. When you tapped her shoulder, she quickly whipped around to find you and give you a smile. When she saw Jake, an indecipherable look plastered its way onto her face before she returned her gaze to you and gave you a hug. After the embrace, she whispered, “Be safe. Text me if you need me.”

You gave her a reassuring smile before grabbing Jake’s hand and leading him to the door of the house.

ii. HOURS LIKE MINUTES

That wasn’t the last time you and Jake ended up hooking up, in fact you had seen each other on the regular about a month or so into the endeavor. 

You wanted to say that you knew who Jake was, but that would be a lie. You didn’t know much about him past his name and where he lived, and to be frank, you didn’t really care to. Sure, he was one of the more fun hookups, but after all, he was just a hookup. Nothing more. You assumed he felt the same way. You were terribly mistaken.

A couple months ago, a day or two after your most recent hookup, Jake had told you he wanted to talk to you. You agreed, figuring it was a harmless conversation that needed to be had, about scheduling or him being out of town for a bit.

When you arrived at his house on that fateful day, he greeted you at the front door, looking more cheerful than he usually was when he saw you. You walked in his apartment to find it empty, as usual, and he led you to the couch. 

It started off casual and harmless. You had mentioned wanting to watch a certain movie in passing once, and he had rented it so you could watch it together. You assumed it would be a classic “movie and chill” moment with him. You’d done it before, you wouldn’t be surprised if it were to happen again.

However, as the movie progressed, neither of you had made any advances, which was odd for the two of you. 

Thirty minutes in, nothing.

An hour in, nothing

An hour and a half in, nothing.

Finally, the movie eventually came to an end and still, as expected, nothing had happened.

As the credits rolled, Jake muted the TV and turned to you, “So…? What’d you think?”

You sat there and looked at him. For a good thirty seconds, at that. Saying nothing. Just looking. Jake began to look uneasy, gulping and asking, “Was it worth the watch?”

You finally answered him, “It was good, I guess. Nothing special.”

He looked slightly deflated but still kept up a happy demeanor, “Cool, cool. I thought so too.”

A silence consumed you two as you just looked at him. He was fidgeting, looking anywhere in the room but at you. You’d never seen him this blatantly nervous before, albeit most of the times you’d seen him, you were both intoxicated to some degree. 

“Well,” you started, rising from your spot, “I guess I’ll get going then.”

Jake immediately rose from his spot, surprising you. He seemed anxious, quickly saying, “Why? Do you have somewhere to be?”

“No,” you told him, still gathering your things. You didn’t care if this hurt his feelings, you guys were fuck-buddies and nothing else. There was no time or room for any sort of relationship, nor any activities that could even barely resemble a date.

“Oh… then why are you leaving so soon?”

You stopped packing up the bag you brought over and stared at him before responding, “Jake, you asked me to come over to talk about something with you, and I get here, and what do you do? Put on some damn movie. Well, the movie’s over now, and you still look like you have no intent of even bringing up what you supposedly called me over to talk about. So I’m leaving.”

Jake walked over to you quickly and grabbed your wrist. Out of habit, you pulled it away, telling him that you weren’t in the mood.

“Listen, Y/N. Will you please just sit down and hear me out for like ten minutes?” He pleaded, and when you met his gaze, you sighed but gave in, “Fine. Ten minutes, and then I’m leaving.”

He motioned for you to sit back down, and once you did he followed suit. 

“Y/N,” Jake started. The way he said your name sent chills down your spine. You had never heard him use a voice so serious, not even during sex. No matter how his voice made you feel, though, you made sure to keep a blank face as you listened to him.

“I probably shouldn’t even be doing this, to be honest. But, here goes nothing, I guess. Y/N, I don’t know at what exact point that this happened, but I developed feelings for you. Like genuine feelings. At some point, I stopped caring about the sex and it eventually just started to grow into excitement to see you, make you laugh, or even see you in passing.”

Seeing as you didn’t respond, he continued.

“Those talks we have before and after we hookup are some of my favorite moments. You’re so beautiful, and every single thing you do sends me into a slight spiral because I wonder how I was so lucky to even get a chance to be around you. I don’t even know all that much about you, Y/N, but the fact that we only see each other to hookup drives me crazy. I know this is a lot, but I’m just asking you to please, please give me a chance.”

His face was bright red, and yours had stayed unfaltering. You weren’t stupid, you had some idea of how Jake felt for you, but you never wanted to feed into it. You knew you never saw him that way, and you were hoping he would just never acknowledge it so you could stay the way you two were.

Fate never liked to work out for you, though.

You cleared your throat before grabbing his hand and looking him in the eye, “Jake. You’re a sweet guy, and hooking up with you has been super fun. But I’ve told you before, I don’t really do relationships. And, if I’m being honest with you, I really don’t feel that way towards you.”

He looked as if he was a little boy and you’d just purposefully popped his favorite balloon.

Alas, you continued, “You’re a great guy. But I don’t see you that way. Plus, I’ve told you before- I can’t keep hooking up with people if there’s feelings involved.”

He gulped again. This time, instead of nervousness, he looked like he was swallowing back tears.

“I think it’d be best if we stopped seeing each other.”

You finally dropped the bomb on him, giving his hand one squeeze before dropping it. You grabbed your bag from the couch and slipped on your shoes, making your way out of his apartment. You didn’t have to look back at him to know he was upset.

That day was around four months ago now. Ever since that day, you hadn’t seen Jake, and had no intentions of seeing him.

It didn’t matter what he was up to anyways, you’d been seeing this new guy, Park Sunghoon, from your accounting class. You met a month or two ago after being partnered up for a project with two other people. Any time the group made plans to work on the project together, the other two people always made up some random excuse as to why they wouldn’t be there, so you and Sunghoon became close in a short time period.

Sunghoon was different from a lot of guys that you’d met. He was quiet, introverted, and majorly unreadable. He was an extremely popular guy, but he never let it get to his head. Sunghoon never just talked to talk, he always had something to say that was worth some sort of meaning. He was unbelievably attractive, too, so of course you two hooked up very early on. But what drew you in the most about Sunghoon was that he wasn’t like all your other fuck-buddies. 

For one, you and Sunghoon had established a somewhat friendship before hooking up the first time, rather than just blindly meeting each other while fucked up at a party. Sunghoon wasn’t like the other guys.

Another reason he was different was because he knew his boundaries. He and you both knew when to stop, when to make sure you were treading the line between friends-with-benefits to having feelings, and how to leave you alone just enough to have you feeling the same lust every time you hooked up. Sunghoon wasn’t Jake. Jake never knew boundaries. He was blind and stupid. Sunghoon knew better.

You and Sunghoon had been seeing each other for some time now, but had never actually been to an outing together. You’d met some of his friends; you were quite familiar with Heeseung. He and Ningning had been dating for about a month now, after going back and forth with each other for weeks on end prior to them getting together.

You were supposed to all have met at Heeseung and Sunghoon’s shared apartment at 6:30 PM, and you and Ningning had just arrived at 6:17 PM. She picked you up in her new car, offering to let you be the first person you drove in it. You took her up on the offer, and were even able to make it early to the apartment, which you were grateful for.

As you two unloaded yourselves from her car, you were met with a text from Sunghoon:

sunghoon 💨☺️ : hey are u guys oyw

You quickly sent him one back:

you : yeah

you : walking up to ur apartment’s entrance rn actually 

Within a few seconds, you and Ningning were met with the sight of Heeseung. The boy’s apartment was on the third floor, and he had bounded all the way down the steps to meet you guys at the bottom landing. 

“Hello,” Ningning offered, grabbing her boyfriend’s hand. He said nothing back as he took the two of you upstairs to the apartment, the door already open. 

The next time you peeked at the clock was when you entered the doorway, and it read 6:22 PM. At the sound of you entering, Sunghoon left his bedroom and found you in the living room.

“You’re here early,” he teased, holding you from behind.

“You’re so touchy,” you craned your neck to look at him and found him already smiling at you.

“What, am I not allowed to be touchy with you? You of all people-” you elbowed him lightly to get him to shut up before turning around in his grasp, “I never said I didn’t like it.”

Sunghoon ruffled your hair before returning to his room. It seemed like Heeseung and Ningning had also retreated to his room for the time being, so you followed Sunghoon into his room.

When you walked in, he was putting some papers away into a desk, so you took the opportunity to immediately flop onto his bed. You weren’t worried about how your hair would look. You were only with Sunghoon, and you knew he had a comb laying around here somewhere. 

He quickly made his way to his bed, leaning over you, “You look nice.”

“Thanks, I try.”

He sat down next to your figure and soon also flopped back. You wasted no time in turning towards him and messing with his hair, his ears, any part of his face that was accessible at the moment. Sunghoon kept swiping your hands away, soon getting tired of your antics and grabbing your wrists so you would stop. He evilly smiled at you, getting up so he could pin your hands down to the bed. 

Suddenly, their doorbell buzzed. Sunghoon groaned as he got up from your playful wrestling match and told you to comb your hair before yelling, “Coming!”

You sat up and patted most of your hair down, but got up anyways to find the comb.

“I don’t need to comb my hair,” you mumbled as you took a look at yourself in the mirror. As you turned to look at the back of your hair, though, you sighed in defeat, “okay, never mind, I do.”

You started looking for the comb near his bed, and then his dresser, then near his desk, and you even peeked in his closet. It was nowhere to be found.

Maybe he hadn’t left it in his room? It was probably in the bathroom, which was all the way across the apartment. It was a bother to go get it, but you needed it. You grabbed your phone and small handbag that you’d brought to his room and ventured out into the apartment. From down the hallway, it sounded like the boys and Ningning had let in whoever else was joining you tonight, so even if you went to go get the comb, you’d need to meet them at some point anyways. May as well be now rather than never.

As you made your way into the living room, you saw the figures of Sunghoon, Heeseung, Ningning, and three other people. The three had their backs faced to you, so you couldn’t exactly tell who they were or what they looked like. Your entrance grabbed the attention of everyone, and you waved to the unfamiliar faces that you could see. 

One of them was a boy, you couldn’t remember his name, but you knew you’d seen his face in pictures before. He was Sunghoon’s childhood friend or something along those lines. You would probably be better off not knowing his childhood friend’s name. Sure, Sunghoon was fun to mess around with, but you had to make sure neither of you treaded too closely to the “catching feelings” line.

The other girl looked around your age, maybe a year younger. She was extremely pretty and had a beautiful smile. Her hair was long, black, and it cascaded down her back like a waterfall. You hated to admit it, but you were slightly envious of her. It didn’t matter, though, because you really had no interpersonal relationship. She was just some girl who you’d probably never see again.

The second you caught sight of the third figure, you felt your heart slightly drop. As soon as you made eye contact, you made a point to walk as quickly to the bathroom as you could. Suddenly you really needed that comb.

You trapped yourself in the bathroom for a minute or two, letting every thought you had ram into you like a freight train. You didn’t care that Sunghoon brought friends over. This wasn’t the first time you’d met some friends of his, and it wouldn’t be the last. You didn’t even care that out of all people, Jake was there. You didn’t ever see him that way, and seeing him tonight, after months, definitely wouldn’t change anything.

What you did mind, however, was that Jake and Sunghoon knew each other. Or, even worse, they were friends. You had every intention of never seeing Jake again after you cut things off, and majorly, until today, you were successful. And of course, against all odds, he was going out with you all tonight.

To be frank, you weren’t terrified of the idea of Jake returning to your life; he was a nice guy. You didn’t mind having him around as a “friend” back when you did regularly see him, but it was what went beyond that that drove you away. You were sure he wasn’t too thrilled to see you either.

It would be fine, though. As long as you both ignored what happened in the past, everything would blow over just fine. Plus, there was a chance that the unfamiliar girl was with him. It would be good for the both of you if he had moved on.

Moments later, you were met with a knock on the door, followed by Sunghoon saying, “Everything okay?”

You unlocked the bathroom door and peeped your face through the crack, “All good. Just, uh, can’t find the comb.”

“Hey, it’s okay, I have a spare,” he tried to open the door, but you wouldn’t budge.

“Please let me in my own bathroom.”

This time you complied, shutting the door again after he entered, and he opened up the cabinet above the toilet to find his extra comb. Once located, he handed it over to you, watching you as you combed your hair in the mirror. He started, “All ready?”

You begrudgingly nodded and he exited the bathroom with you trailing behind.

Sunghoon led to you the group that was all now sitting on the couch and chairs surrounding his and Heeseung’s living room coffee table. You scanned the living area for a seat, noting that the only one available was on the other side of Jake. That idea was immediately scrapped. Once you stood next to Sunghoon, he introduced you to the group.

“Everybody, this is Y/N. Y/N, that’s Jay,” he pointed to the familiar boy from the pictures, “that’s Ella,” he motioned to the beautiful girl next to Jay, “and that’s Jake. Ella’s boyfriend.”

You nodded and waved slowly at the new faces, making sure not to pay any mind to Jake at all. It didn’t matter if this action hurt his feelings, he had a girlfriend now. He could go cry to her about it.

“Hi,” you started, “nice to meet you all.”

You finally decided to make eye contact with Jake after saying this, even if it wasn’t nice to meet him again. At least not in this situation. Immediately after locking eyes with you, Jake put his arm around Ella’s shoulder.

Heeseung was the next person to speak:

“Who wants some alcohol?”

The tension around the group began to dissipate when Heeseung got up to get the drinks, leaving his spot next to Ningning open. As you commandeered his spot, Sunghoon trailed behind you to stand behind the couch. He seemed to do that a lot. 

You looked up at Sunghoon, saying, “Someone should probably help Heeseung with the drinks.”

He nodded, and Jay also quickly stood up to join the other two in the kitchen.

This left you, Ningning, and Ella. And Jake. 

The couple quickly engaged in their own conversation before Ningning was able to elbow you in the side and whisper in your ear, “Didn’t you used to hook up with him?!”

You nodded briefly, widening your eyes quickly at the situation. She sent you a sympathetic smile and put her hand on your knee. In the past few months, you’d let yourself become closer with Ningning, which was a blessing for you. Even if you weren’t all that close, you still had her as a friend. It definitely helped that her boyfriend’s roommate was the guy you were seeing.

In a quick moment, Jake also stood up and went to the kitchen to help with drinks. In a sense, you kind of missed him. Sure, you didn’t miss his clingy nature, or the fact that he was the reason that you two fell apart, but he really was a good guy. Of course, there were times when you also missed having him in bed with you.

Ella looked nervous and adjusted her dress — a blue dress — before giving you and Ningning an awkward smile. You doubt she knew about you and Jake, and was probably just an anxious person. Even if she did know, though, it didn’t matter. Because what you and Jake had was in the past.

Ningning broke the silence first, “So, Ella, you and Jake? How’s that going?”

She smiled. God, she was absolutely stunning. You knew your own self value, but she was something else. She looked like the type of girl that beautiful poetry was written about. The blue dress she wore complimented her skin tone and brought out her best features. You had to give it to her, she really knew how to dress to the nines.

“It’s great,” she fawned, taking a peek over at his figure in the kitchen, “we’ve been dating for a couple months now, and he’s just so great.”

“Wow,” Ningning replied, “I’m happy for you guys!”

You nodded, adding, “How’d you two meet?”

“We were at the same party and Jay set us up,” she laughed, “I remember Jay telling me in our physics class that his ‘friend needed a new slate for dating’ and how he knew I was single, so he set us up at a party! I’m really happy he did, too.”

The new slate for dating of course meant you. You had forgotten about Jay and Jake sharing an apartment together, and obviously because of that, Jay knew who you were and what you did to Jake. More like what had happened, but you cursed yourself for forgetting that Jay was someone that knew both Jake and Sunghoon.

“Well, congrats!” Ningning smiled back at her, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. Ella had turned her back on you two to watch the boys make drinks again, and in that moment, Ningning gave you the biggest “what the fuck??” look you’d ever seen in your life. You simply shrugged in return.

Not long after, the boys returned with drinks, ready for you all to pregame for the night ahead of you. You opted to just do straight Vodka shots with orange juice as a chaser to get yourself going. You watched Sunghoon take a few shots of Fireball before smiling at you and grabbing at your ears. That was a little habit you two had started doing: grabbing each other’s ears to mess with the other. You kind of realized that it could come off as a bit flirty, so you tried to hold back on doing it often, but sometimes it came to you like a second nature.

“Stop touching me,” you whined at him, swatting his hands off your ears. 

“I can’t help it,” he cooed at you, “you just look so cute.”

Here it comes, flirty Sunghoon. It didn’t take very long for him to become tipsy, and when he did, he’d become a flirt. It was flattering, but when you were trying to get sloshed and you had him following you around like a dog, it could become extremely annoying.

You didn’t miss how Jake was watching you and Sunghoon’s interaction, even with Ella sitting right next to him.

Eventually, once everyone had finished pregaming, the Ubers to take you seven to the club had arrived at the apartment. You started grabbing your handbag and as you went to grab your phone, you realized you’d accidentally left it in the bathroom.

“Don’t wait up for me, I’ll just be a second,” you said to Sunghoon and Ningning as you walked to the bathroom to get your phone. The two listened, so once you returned to the living space, you noticed that the only three people left in the apartment were, including you, Jake and Heeseung.

You made a beeline for the door, but Jake was quickly on your heels. Heeseung stayed back to lock up the apartment.

As you descended the steps attempting to avoid Jake, you failed, as he caught up to you and started a conversation, “Hi.”

“Hey,” you replied half-heartedly. Either Jake couldn’t tell that you didn’t want to talk or he simply didn’t care, because he continued:

“So you and Sunghoon, huh?”

He sounded a bit hurt, but you weren’t going to feed into it. You promptly replied, “Yep. You have a girlfriend now, isn’t that crazy? How the times change.”

Jake nodded awkwardly, gulping, and then starting again, “Yeah, she’s cool. She’s not you though.”

You shook your head at him. It was unbelievable how much audacity he had to say that. Especially on the first day of seeing each other again. You cut him off for a reason, you reminded yourself.

“Yep.”

You ended the conversation there as you exited the apartment building, finding Sunghoon on the sidewalk. He gave you a confused look.

“Do you guys know each other?”

You pondered for a second before replying:

“Something like that.”

iii. LIKE A CRIMINAL

Exactly one day later, you found yourself at Sunghoon and Heeseung’s apartment, looking for your fling. You two had made plans to go drive out to see some of your mutual friends, and he was going to meet you at his place, but you had beaten him there.

He had told you where the hidden key was located, because you were notorious for showing up unannounced, and especially in this occasion he trusted you to house sit. Plus, you had expected him to be home in about ten minutes, like he’d texted you.

What you didn’t expect was to see Jake lying on the couch when you walked in. His head immediately shot up when he heard you enter. You gave him an extremely confused look before saying, “I’m just gonna go to Sunghoon’s room and wait for him to get here.”

You sped past him yet heard him say, “Wait, Y/N!”

You paid him no mind as you situated yourself on Sunghoon’s bed, lying down and pulling out your phone to text him:

you : i broke in again 

Within moments, he replied:

sunghoon 💨☺️ : not surprised

sunghoon 💨☺️ : there’s a car accident but im on my way

sunghoon 💨☺️ : it’s looking like it’ll still be 10 mins though i will be speedy for u

you : my hero! 😮😮

You put your phone down and you were met with the sight of Jake standing in Sunghoon’s doorway. As if on cue, you sighed. It’d been a whole one day since you saw him last and he couldn’t leave you alone. It was like your own personal Hell.

You couldn’t deny that he looked really good though. 

Jake approached you slowly and with caution, “Sorry about what I said yesterday. About Ella not being you. It was weird, and I was tipsy, so I’m sorry.”

You raised your eyebrows at the man in front of you. You sat up and tilted your head at him, “You’re.. forgiven.”

He sent you a small smile before pulling up a chair to sit across from you on. You checked the time on your phone before looking back at him. It had to be only about eight-ish minutes until Sunghoon arrived.

Jake spoke next, “It’s nice to see you again.”

You nodded at him, “It’s been a bit.”

He smiled at you, “It’s definitely odd for me to see you with Sunghoon now, but he’s a good guy.”

You shrugged, “I don’t know if you could consider him someone I’m ‘with’ right now, he’s kind of just a fuck-buddy. He’s very sweet though, you’re right.”

“Homie hopping, I see,” Jake teased you from across the room. You hated to admit it, but you did really miss being around him. You’d forgotten how he knew just how to press your buttons, tease you, and make you feel just as annoyed as you did lustful.

You playfully shoved his shoulder from across him.

“I miss us,” you admitted, “not because I’m unhappy with Sunghoon, but having you around was always nice. Sometimes I wish we could go back to the way things were.”

“I feel the same,” Jake replied instantly. It was almost as if he’d been waiting for you to say that. However, before formulating his next sentence, he took a pause. His next sentence was barely spoken above a whisper:

“Maybe it could.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at him. Did he say what you thought he did? 

“What?”

Jake slowly got closer to you, and you felt yourself transported back four months. God, he always knew how to make you feel weak in the knees. Sunghoon did too, but it was different. You had really liked messing around with Jake. 

In the next moment, you could feel Jake’s lips almost on your own. Your heart skipped a beat.

“Maybe it could,” it was barely louder than last time, but this time it rung through your whole body. You found yourself grabbing one of his arms, almost feeding into the past with him.

You two broke apart as soon as you heard the door open. You motioned for Jake to hide behind the bed frame while you went to talk to Sunghoon, as he had just arrived. How ironic.

“Hello, Y/N,” he smiled, ruffling your hair slightly, “did you miss me all too much?”

“Not even a little bit,” you teased, going up behind him and smacking his ass. He immediately whipped around and you slipped away and ran to the living room, laughing.

“You’re such a bother,” he cornered you between the table and the wall, ready to grab you whenever you decided to try and run away.

You screamed as he once again chased you, and once he finally caught you, he picked you up and took you to the couch.

“Get your shoes on,” he ordered, “we should probably get going soon.”

You complied, rising from the couch and patting down your hair, “You’re really good at messing up my hair,” you complained sarcastically from across the room.

“Damn right, I am.”

You slipped on your sneakers and met Sunghoon at the door of the apartment.

“Ready to go?” he asked, to which you nodded.

You both left the building and bounded down to his car outside of the apartment.

As you neared the car, you couldn’t push away the guilt that was eating you alive from what happened with Jake. Sure, you and Sunghoon weren’t exclusive or anything serious, but it still felt wrong in a way. You and Jake were meant to be left in the past.

Around five minutes later, you receive a text:

unknown number : hey

You stared at it, confused, before responding:

you : who is this

The number wasted no time to respond:

unknown number : take a wild guess

unknown number : :)

You rolled your eyes, immediately knowing who it was, wondering how he obtained your number:

you : jake how the fuck did you get my number

You swiftly changed the contact name, then waited for a response. Sunghoon looked over at you, “Are you good?”

Caught off guard, you stumbled over your words, “Yeah, yeah, I’m goo- I’m great. Why wouldn’t I be?” He furrowed his eyebrows at you before turning his gaze back to the road, “You’re a bad liar.”

Suddenly, Jake responded:

do not answer : doesn’t matter

do not answer : i have a question though

You rolled your eyes, typing a response:

you : what

As if on cue, he texted back:

do not answer : what was that earlier

do not answer : in sunghoon’s room

do not answer : and do not fucking say nothing

You silently sighed and then formulated a message:

you : i don’t know, let’s just forget about it

His end went silent suddenly. You chewed your lip nervously, awaiting a response. You didn’t need one, you knew that. But knowing him, he wouldn’t let you have the last word. Especially not in this situation.

About an hour later, you received a final message:

do not answer : can you meet me tonight

iv. A FIRE BURNS INSIDE ME

You knew you were making a big mistake. It was a horrible idea: agreeing to meet Jake in secret. You really didn’t know why you made such stupid decisions sometimes; it was like you were your own worst enemy.

But here you were, at 10pm, quietly knocking on Jake’s apartment door. He had told you that Jay staying with his parents as he went to visit them out of town, and obviously there would be no trace of Ella there. You felt bad for the girl, knowing that you were meeting up with her boyfriend in private. Plus, with the whole bedroom incident earlier, you would need to tread lightly. You were going to make sure that nothing happened.

You waited at the door for another minute before Jake opened it quickly and ushered you in, “I have neighbors who know Ella, so I can’t have them getting the wrong idea if you’re here.”

Right. Funny.

He shut the door behind you quickly, leading you to the couch in his living room. The last time you were on this couch was the last time you ever planned on seeing Jake.

You opted on taking a seat on one side of the couch after Jake sat himself on the other. He smiled at you from his spot, trying to ease your nerves about behind there alone with him.

“Do you want something to drink?” He asked. He knew you well.

You smirked, “A glass of red wine would be lovely.”

He got up from his seat on the couch and quickly made his way to the kitchen. Your eyes trailed his figure before it went out of sight. Taking a deep breath, you checked your phone, a couple messages dancing across your screen.

From Sunghoon:

sunghoon 💨☺️ : no 

sunghoon 💨☺️ : but i can try to work something out

From Ningning:

ningning : okay i can pick you up if you’d like

From an attractive boy in your major:

wonbin park : yea i didn’t understand it either if that makes you feel any better

wonbin park : if you want to we could try to meet up with the professor for help

wonbin park : up to you tho

And from a childhood friend, Jungwon:

jungwon 🚨🚨 : u make such bad decisions y/n 

jungwon 🚨🚨 : if u still lived in town i’d come find u and strangle u idk

Jungwon was really calling you out. You knew he was right, you should probably just leave. 

In the same breath, though, Jake did offer to give you a drink, and to at least be polite, you knew you should stay until you finish it.

Jake made his way back from the kitchen to find you, and he had two glasses of red wine and the wine bottle, both glasses in one hand and the bottle in the other. He placed your glass in front of you onto a coffee table with the bottle nearby and sat down with his own glass.

You took a sip before breaking the silence, “So why did you call me over?”

“I dunno,” he answered, “I feel like we kind of have some catching up to do, I guess. Do you wanna watch something? A romcom, maybe?”

“That’s fine.” You needed the background noise if you were going to talk to Jake anyways. You might go insane if you had to engage in conversation and give him your undivided attention.

For the first half hour of the film, no words were exchanged besides commentary about the plot. Once you two had finished a couple of drinks, the atmosphere lightened up, and you began to converse more freely.

“What do you really think about Sunghoon?” 

A question that Jake asked that had actually stuck out to you amongst his nonsense. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly why this question bothered you so much, but you answered anyways:

“He’s a gentlemen. Great in bed, good friend, pretty funny. Sometimes I could see myself gaining feelings for him, but I seriously doubt that’ll happen. I just can’t go for fuck-buddies, y’know?”

Jake laughed, “I mean, I don’t know. Obviously.”

You rolled your eyes playfully at him before reaching over and flicking his forehead, “Knock it off.”

He made a swipe at your wrist but you’d pulled it away too quickly for him to grab. He slouched in his spot, teasing you while singing, “Sorry..”

You readjusted yourself on the couch before taking your turn to ask a question, “What do you really think of Ella?”

At her name, Jake tensed up slightly. It was subtle, but enough of his body reacted for you to notice.

“Hah.. about that…” he trailed off.

“What? What happened? You guys were literally all over each other yesterday,” you nagged. It was true; Ella was gushing about Jake while she talked to you two, and when all of you went out, they never left the other person’s side.

“We, uh, we’re on a break. Right now, I mean,” he confessed, surprising you.

“What the hell? Why?” you asked, almost accusatory, though you assumed the break happened due to Ella, but you couldn’t be sure. You grabbed the TV remote and paused the movie, wanting to actually listen to his story.

Jake sighed, “I really couldn’t tell you,” he paused, taking a drink of the wine, “it was really sudden. It happened this morning.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. That really sucks,” you comforted him, scooting closer to pat him on his knee. You let your hand rest there for a couple of seconds, and Jake puts his hand on top of yours.

“Don’t touch me,” you teased, lightly hitting him on the shoulder.

“Don’t touch me!!” Jake mocked you, now going for the side of your neck with a small jab.

“Jake,” you warned, playfully giving him a scowl. At this point, you had sat up on your knees, giving you a better range of motion to attack the man in front of you, and a better opportunity to dodge his attacks.

As you went to try and grab his waist for pressure points, he grabbed your wrists and pulled you closer to him, “Jake….” He mocked, getting in your face to tease you.

The play fighting soon escalated into playful wrestling on his couch, mostly with Jake winning as he was much stronger than you.

At some point, he pushed you a little too hard and you landed with your back on the couch. Because he was holding your wrist at the moment, you took him with you on your small tumble, causing the man to be hovering inches away from your face.

His outer arm was propped up on the couch, caging you into your spot. He was still holding onto your wrist with his other hand. You could smell the wine on his breath, but it was ultimately overpowered by the scent of his cologne. 

That goddamn cologne.

In an instant, you pushed your lips onto his. The kiss was fiery, sloppy, and hot. He tasted like alcohol. You didn’t even care.

Jake immediately leaned further into the kiss, his grip on your wrist loosening almost instantly. You felt him breathe a sigh through his nose, signifying that he had been anticipating, hoping something that like this would happen.

You took this as a sign to continue. You brought your free hand to the nape of his neck, slightly running your fingers through his hair. Jake slightly groaned into your mouth before taking the hand that was holding your wrist and instead bringing it to the side of your face.

The alcohol coursed through your veins as you made your next move. Lust-driven, you pushed Jake slightly in the chest with your free hand and you both sat up, your lips temporarily leaving the other’s. 

As soon as you were both sat normally on the couch, Jake pulled you into his lap, his hands finding your waist. You brought your hands to his shoulders, one hand making its way to his upper back and the other one going to grab for his hair again. 

Jake swiped his tongue on your bottom lip, and you immediately complied, opening your mouth to kiss him deeper. Jake gripped your waist tighter and pulled you closer to him, your bodies now touching. As he pulled you, you felt his bulge in his pants brush up against your lower regions, eliciting a whimper out of you. You pulled onto his hair harder.

Jake’s hands slowly made their way from your waist to your torso, his cold hands slipping under your baggy shirt you wore, giving you goosebumps. 

His breath made you crinkle your nose when you broke apart momentarily, his half-lidded eyes meeting yours. He began running a hand up and down your back, his eyes instead making their way down to your parted lips. Jake took his right hand from under your shirt and gently pushed your hair away from above your shoulder, exposing your neck and a part of your collarbone.

He met eyes with you again while leaning in, looking for your okay. You couldn’t even think straight, you had forgotten how much this man drove you crazy with lust. You just bit your lip and nodded, and he immediately started planting kisses on your neck, slowly bringing them further down your body, towards your collarbone and shoulder. At points, he would find your weak spots and kiss deeper, longer, and he would even suck on the skin. 

You hated that he still remembered you well.

You guys were meant to be in the past.

What the fuck were you doing right now?

You tried getting his attention, though most of the words came out as whimpers because of what he was doing, “Jake… Jake.”

You moved your hands from his neck and back and placed them both on the top of his shoulders, slightly pushing him back. He detached himself from your neck and looked back at you with eyes that you didn’t know could contain that much lust.

“Jake…”

Jake loosened his grip on your torso and dropped his hands back to your hips. His voice was husky as he replied, “Yeah? Is everything okay?” You could still smell the wine on his breath due to the proximity, making a point to remove your hands from his shoulders now.

You gulped at him, looking at him in the eyes with a concerned expression, “No, no. Everything’s not okay.”

He tilted his head in confusion at you, signaling that he wanted you to continue, “What’s wrong, Y/N?”

“Us, Jake. We shouldn’t be doing this. You and I both know this, I don’t know why I even agreed to come here…” you started rambling, taking Jake’s hands off your hips and pulling yourself off his lap. You straightened out your clothes before pacing around his living room, searching for your shoes. You cursed yourself a million times.

“What? Y/N, what did I do?” Jake sounded worried, getting up from the couch and following your body with his eyes. 

You turned to face him, “Jake. You and I both know damn well that ‘this’,” you beckoned between the two of you, “should not be happening.”

“What do you mean?” He started walking towards you, you now scampering away because you found your shoes. You needed to leave as soon as possible.

“Are you kidding me? What do you mean , ‘what do you mean?’? Jake, you have a girlfriend. What the fuck are we doing?” You sighed exasperated at him, slipping your shoes on in a quick manner.

“Fuck,” he said, running a hand through his hair, “fuck, Y/N. You know we’re on a break.”

“That doesn’t mean you should pounce on me at the first opportunity you get!” You emphasized, getting frustrated. “I was stupid for coming over here alone. I’m sorry for initiating anything. We need to be left in the past.”

“We don’t have to be, though!” Jake urged, his voice also raising, “Y/N, I know you’re with Sunghoon, but you don’t have to be. I can treat you right. You- you deserve better.” Jake began slurring his words, the alcohol taking over his speech process.

You looked at him, eyebrows furrowed in anger, “This was a mistake.”

You grabbed all your belongings before quickly exiting his apartment. As you left, you heard Jake calling your name, “Y/N!”

You couldn’t believe yourself. It wasn’t about Ella or Sunghoon. Ella didn’t have a say if she initiated a break with him, and Sunghoon didn’t have a say either; he was just your fuck-buddy after all. 

What it was about was you not sticking to what you told yourself. You and Jake needed to be something that stayed in the past, yet here you just were, making out with him in his apartment, months after breaking things off. You knew better.

You quickly called Ningning, who lived about a couple blocks away. She picked up the phone right as you exited the apartment complex.

“Hello?”

“Hey.”

“Woah, you sound fucked up. Are you okay?”

“I- I don’t know. Probably not. I’m drunk. Can you come pick me up?”

“Where are you?”

You cleared your throat before continuing, trying to formulate this next sentence as best as possible without sounding guilty, even though you were very much guilty.

“I’m, uh, like right near Jake’s apartment building. Like, I’m standing in front of it now.”

Ningning had picked you up from Jake’s apartment before when you used to hook up, especially when you and her had made plans for the following day. She knew exactly where you were. She didn’t give you a physical reaction, but you were sure to hear about it the following morning.

“I’m on my way. Stay right where you are.”

Within a minute or two, Ningning pulled up in front of the apartment building. Once you got in the car, you were met with a crazed look, “You have a lot of fucking explaining to do.”

“I know. I know. It’s not what you think it is, though.” You lied right through your teeth to her. Whatever was happening at Jake’s was about to escalate into exactly what Ningning was assuming you were doing there. You’re glad you stopped it, but the feeling of being pissed off at yourself for even going overpowered any happiness you felt in the moment. You couldn’t even think properly anyways. The wine had taken a bigger toll on you than you’d anticipated.

Ningning started driving towards her apartment in silence.

Suddenly, your phone screen lit up with a text:

do not answer : im sorry

v. MY HEART CRAVES YOU

A week or two later and you hadn’t seen Jake and had no plans to. You still beat yourself up over what happened, sometimes contemplating whether going out was even worth it anymore. You always had that chance of running into him.

But, when Sunghoon invited you to pregame with him, Heeseung, and Ningning before a party, you figured that you’d been celibate from parties for long enough now, and going to at least one wouldn’t hurt. You missed the atmosphere of getting fucked up and not having to think about anything for a bit. It’s what you needed right now anyways.

You found yourself at Sunghoon’s apartment again, waiting outside the door for him to let you in. You chewed on your lip at the situation; Sunghoon had no idea about what happened, but you were terrified it would all come back to bite you in the ass sooner or later. You pushed the thought out of your brain. You and Sunghoon weren’t anything serious anyways.

Sunghoon opened the door and pulled you into his apartment, “Hey!”

You smiled at him almost immediately. Being around him really did ease your nerves, you hated to admit. He looked really good tonight, clad in just a T-shirt and his sweatpants with freshly washed hair.

“Hi,” you laughed, following him to his room, “sorry I’m here early, I tried to take more time getting ready, but I haven’t partied in a couple weeks and I got eager.”

“Why are you apologizing for coming to see me early? I like having you around,” he said as you sat yourself on his bed. He tugged at the top of your ear once.

“Okay, cornball,” you blushed at his words, rolling your eyes playfully at him, “You’re such a flirt.”

“I’m not allowed to flirt with you now?” He questioned you dramatically, “What kind of society do we live in?”

You laughed at his antics as he walked to his closet to pick an outfit for the night. He held up clothes for you, waiting for you to give him either a thumbs up or down depending on your opinion on it.

He ended up settling on a pair of black pants, a white hoodie, and he threw on a basketball jersey over it.

“Never knew you were such an athlete,” you commented, teasing him.

It sounded like Ningning and Heeseung had returned, bringing others with them. Sunghoon pulled you up from his bed and took you to the living room. You were met with the sight of Jay, Ella, and of course, Jake. You weren’t even surprised at this point.

“Oh,” Sunghoon remembered, “I forgot to tell you that Jay, Jake, and Ella are joining us to pregame. I hope you don’t really mind.”

“Even if I did, I don’t think it would really matter.” You half grumbled at him, hoping he wouldn’t pick up on your mannerisms.

You stopped him with you in the hallway, whispering, “Wait, why is Ella here?”

“What do you mean?” He furrowed his eyebrows at you, looking confused.

“I don’t know, someone told me that her and Jake went on a break.”

Sunghoon shook his head at you, “Uh, no. At least as far as I’m aware, they didn’t. I saw them on a date the day after you and I went to go see our friends. They’re with each other basically every day.”

You had to fight every urge to heavily sigh at the moment, “Oh, okay. Weird.”

You were so confused. The day after you and Sunghoon visited friends was the day after the whole incident that drove you away from Jake for two weeks happened. The same damn day, and he was with her the day after. A day long break didn’t make any sense to you. She was happy with him, and you all weren’t in high school. You shook your head at yourself with furrowed eyebrows as you walked back with Sunghoon towards the living room.

You smiled at Ella, who had Jake’s arm slithered around her waist. That poor fucking girl. She had no idea. You couldn’t believe him.

She smiled back at you radiantly. She was so beautiful.

Everyone stood in the living room, but instead of staying there, you all decided to head towards the kitchen to pregame, where there were already drinks out. You grabbed a Twisted Tea as you passed it, immediately cracking it open to drink. You needed the alcohol. The situation was stressing you out more than you’d like to admit. You had to confront Jake.

Around twenty minutes later, you found yourself passing him and tapping his leg. When he turned around, you gave him a look of “you need to talk with me, now.”

You slipped away to the bathroom, no one seemingly noticing your exit. You wanted this talk to be as quick as possible.

About three minutes of waiting later, Jake also slipped into the bathroom. He smiled at you as he walked in. You couldn’t believe his audacity.

“Hey, what’s up?” He asked, walking towards you. You put distance between him and yourself, crossing your arms.

If looks could kill, Jake would be a dead man.

“What the fuck is your problem?” You whisper-shouted, looking at him incredulously.

“Huh?”

“I heard from the grapevine that you,” you forcibly pointed at him, “and Ella were never on a break.”

His eyes widened. You were sure he didn’t mean to get caught, but his look told you everything.

“Don’t think I wouldn’t have found out, Sim,” you spat at him, “you’re actually unbelievable.”

An apology immediately started rushing out of his mouth at you, “Y/N, I’m so sorry. It’s just, I was intoxicated, and- and so were you, and we were alone… you know I’ve always had a thing for you since we met. But- but you’re with Sunghoon now, I know, so I saw it as my only chance.”

“Jake,” you sighed, “I honestly don’t think I can accept your apology. You know better. And you should apologize to Ella instead. I’m with Sunghoon now, and I know we were both drunk, but that can neverhappen again.”

He gulped before you laid the mallet down on him, “Last time we tried this should be evident of that.”

“You’re right.”

You immediately walked past him, opening the door to the bathroom and slipping back out and walking towards the kitchen.

Jake followed you around four minutes later, delaying his arrival to not bring up any suspicions. You made your way to stand between Ningning and Jay, grabbing another drink. 

Seconds later, Sunghoon appeared behind you. He slid his arms around your waist, his cold touch sending a shiver down your spine. You craned your neck to look at him, trying to make eye contact but his eyes were elsewhere. His gaze was honed in on Jake, and if looks could kill, there would be Jake’s blood all over the apartment right now.

Jake averted eye contact and opted to look at Ella. 

Once the pregaming ended, you found yourself in a car with Heeseung, Sunghoon, and Ningning. Heeseung was the designated driver, and you were grateful that you could get sloshed tonight and not have to think about anything for a bit.

Heeseung parked about a block away from the party, Jay parking about thirty feet behind you guys. The walk to the party was surprisingly cold for it being an almost summer night, the weather not missing its chance to brush the cold winds against your bare legs. 

“You cold?” Sunghoon asked, taking a look over at you.

“Maybe a bit,” you admitted, wrapping each of your arms around the other, “it’s fine, it’ll probably be sweaty in there anyways.”

Soon you all reached the party, one by one trailing into the loud house. It was already insanely packed, each corner and crevice of the place having people in it. The music was deafening, and the heat that already made its way towards you was all the evidence you needed that wearing only a dress was a good idea.

Sunghoon grabbed your hand, pulling you through the crowd and towards what you assumed would be the kitchen, or wherever the drinks would be located.

You made sure to grip well on his hand, because every person you tried to walk by somehow ended up not noticing your presence and never moving, causing you to fall behind.

Sunghoon led you into the kitchen, where it was surprisingly less crowded. You still could barely hear even though the music was a room away now. You could also barely see, the lights were so dim that you had to squint to see the faces of those around you.

There were a lot of drinks to choose from, most being put in plastic pitchers with labels made out of packing tape and sharpie. 

You walked over, grabbed a red solo cup, and then made your way towards the pitcher labeled “JUNGLE JUICE” and poured yourself a cup, it almost being filled to the brim.

“Woah,” Sunghoon commented when he saw how full your drink was, “you should calm down with the amount, Y/N. Don’t want you getting sick.”

You looked at him, took a drink, then commented, “I may get sick, I may not. Not the end of the world if I do.”

He gave you a pointed look before asking, “Do you want to go back to the living room?”

You nodded and followed his lead as he parted the way for you. You tried your best to not get separated from him. It wasn’t like you weren’t able to handle being by yourself at a party, but you wanted to get a few drinks in before attempting to be independent.

Half an hour passed and you were on your fifth drink of the night. You weren’t sure how it was physically possible, but after you finished your fifth drink, you wanted another. You needed to forget everything that had happened over the past few weeks, and even if it was for one night, that was okay with you.

You parted ways with Sunghoon once again for the night, beckoning towards the kitchen and telling him that you’d be back soon.

After getting your sixth drink, you had every intention of getting back to Sunghoon. Instead, you found yourself getting intrigued by the outdoors. There weren’t many people outside, only about fifteen, but you figured there was nothing wrong with taking a breath of fresh air for a moment.

Opening the door, you were get again met with the cold breeze, but with all the alcohol running through your veins, you didn’t feel as cold as you did earlier.

You stepped onto the concrete patio and spotted who you thought was a classmate, Wonbin Park. He was sitting by himself in a lawn chair, seemingly observing everyone in the backyard.

You approached him, making yourself seen, to which he waved at you. You stood by his chair and he looked up at you.

“Hey,” he started, smiling at you. You doubted he had drank as much as you, you were sure you looked a mess. He looked fine. Good, even.

“Hey,” you replied, “what are you doing here?”

He laughed at your words, “I’m here to drink and forget about the past week. You?”

“It’s like you read my mind,” you commented.

“Almost like that’s what parties are for,” Wonbin said, nudging your bare knee, “how are you not cold right now?”

“I’ve had a lot to drink,” you admitted.

“I can tell,” he replied, “you should probably not finish that.”

Wonbin motioned to the drink in your hand, now already half empty.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

As if Wonbin could read your mind, he wasn’t surprised when you gagged, suddenly feeling hot acid rising in your throat.

You ran over to the grass and let a bit of vomit escape your mouth, your eyes watering at the taste.

Wonbin walked quickly over to you, “Let’s get you inside, yeah?”

As he brought you inside, he asked, “Who are you here with?”

You had your hand held over your mouth as you tried not to vomit anymore. Wonbin ushered you to an empty bathroom so you could get sick (mostly) in peace.

“Are you here with Sunghoon?” He asked, worried for you.

You nodded miserably as you hunched over the toilet and let loose. It wasn’t as much as you thought it would be, but you felt disgusting. You knew it wouldn’t be all in one go, your stomach was upset. You’d probably be here for at least twenty minutes.

Wonbin looked at you, “I don’t want to leave you here alone, but I’m gonna go find Sunghoon.”

You offered no response as you continued getting sick in the toilet. The room smelled like alcohol, vomit, and toilet water. The smell alone could’ve made you vomit even more.

A minute later, a familiar figure entered the bathroom and crouched next to you. You were hoping it would be Sunghoon, but by the smell of the cologne which was now mixed in the air, you knew exactly who it was.

You wanted to be mad, but you were too miserable to focus your energy on that. You were just grateful someone would be there to help you while you tried not to die.

He gently pulled your hair back for you, keeping it up so you wouldn’t get sick all over it. 

Jake could be alright sometimes.

He placed his other hand comfortingly on your back, rubbing it, hoping to soothe whatever you were going through. This action was cut short, however, when Wonbin returned with Heeseung, Ningning, and Sunghoon.

Even as loud as it was and as drunk as you were, the way that Sunghoon barked Jake’s surname rang through your mind, “Sim.”

You looked up from your spot to watch Heeseung, Jake, and Sunghoon disappear. Wonbin ushered Ningning towards you, her now taking the spot that Jake once occupied.

“Do you need anything?” Wonbin asked carefully.

You shook your head at him, not being able to speak.

“Okay,” he paused, “please don’t die, Y/N.”

You laughed as much as you physically could at his words, which in reality was a small chuckle, but if you had done any more, you could’ve thrown up all over Ningning. Throwing up in the toilet was enough for you.

Wonbin left. Quickly, Ningning turned to you and asked, “Y/N, why the fuck were you in here with Jake?”

“I-” you slightly turned to her, trying to speak, but failing. You turned your head back to the toilet bowl and hurled some more.

“I don’t know,” you croaked out, as loud as you could, “he- he didn’t bring me in here. Wonbin did. Jake just- he showed up.”

You slurred some of your words together. You couldn’t remember the last time you were this drunk.

Ningning said nothing but hummed at what you said. You didn’t think that she didn’t believe you, but you also weren’t sure that she did believe you.

Ten minutes of hurling later, Sunghoon and Heeseung returned in the doorway of the bathroom. Ningning got up and Sunghoon took her place, “I told you that you were gonna be sick.”

You vomited again.

He placed a hand on the small of your back and rubbed in a circle. You were glad he showed up. His presence made you feel a lot better than Jake’s did.

You stayed there for five minutes before attempting to stand up with the help of Sunghoon.

“Let’s leave,” he said to Heeseung.

Sunghoon laced his fingers with yours as he helped you out of the house. In the time that you’d been throwing up, the amount of people in the house had waned down. It was less difficult to make your way through the crowd now.

Most of the faces blurred as you walked past, but one really stuck out to you. Jake Sim was sitting on a couch with Ella.

His lip had been completely busted open.

You paid no mind to the wind as you exited the house. If anything, you welcomed it with open arms. It semi-sobered you up.

In the process of becoming more sober, you had come to the realization of something:

Jake hadn’t had a busted lip when he was comforting you. 

What the Hell had happened in those ten minutes?

vi. I CAN’T REFUTE MY INSTINCTS

Sunghoon, somehow, had become even more protective of you as of late. You figured it had something to do with whatever happened between him and Jake at the party, and you had your suspicions of what went down, but when you’d asked Sunghoon, he always just tried to ignore the situation. Plus, you didn’t know if he would tell you the full truth anyways.

So, you got the genius idea to confront Jake instead. 

Who were you kidding, it was a horrible idea. But you needed to have your suspicions confirmed, at the very least. So you texted him:

you : jake 

Within seconds, a response came:

do not answer : yo

do not answer : what’s up

You couldn’t believe he was hitting you with a “yo” right now. Was he allergic to social cues?

you : i need to ask you about something

you : can i come over later

you : don’t get any ideas

He took a minute before responding:

do not answer : ig 

do not answer : jays not home rn just come now

you : ok

You left your apartment within minutes. You weren’t exactly eager to see Jake, but nonetheless, you really wanted to know what was up with the party the other night. Even after you suffered through a hangover, you remembered that moment perfectly.

When you arrived at Jake’s apartment building, you chewed on your lip. You weren’t exactly sure why. You knew that nothing would happen, and all that was going to happen was Jake telling you the truth.

At least you hoped.

When you went to knock on his door, it swung open, Jake’s large figure greeting you before you even had a chance to register what was happening. He stepped to the side and let you walk in. You only made your way to further down his entrance hallway; you wanted to be in and out of here as quickly as humanly possible.

Jake trailed your figure and met you at the end of the hallway. He stood directly across from you and mirrored your body language as he leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.

“So,” you started, not wanting to waste any more time.

“So.”

You sighed, “I need you to be completely transparent with me, Jake.”

He gave you a pointed look, “What’s the problem?” He didn’t seem all too thrilled that you were here for once, which was a genuine surprise for you. You didn’t fail to notice how his lip was still busted, so you went ahead and bit the bullet:

“What happened to your lip?”

The question was simple, it could be chalked up to a friend having concern for another friend. But it wasn’t. You weren’t even really friends, and your only concern was the reason behind the busted lip. Not the person suffering the blow of it.

Jake’s gaze faltered slightly and you almost missed it. He swallowed quickly, “Nothing. I just hit it on something.”

“Bullshit,” you snapped back, “that’s bullshit and we both know it.”

“Why do you even care?” He pushed, his annoyance at you now becoming prevalent.

You rolled your eyes but had to think for a second. Why did you care? You didn’t care about Jake’s lip, you could give less of a fuck. You desperately needed to know about why it happened though. And why Sunghoon had suddenly flipped a switch. You weren’t stupid, you obviously knew something went down. But you needed your suspicions to be confirmed at the very least.

“You’re hurt, Jake,” you lied through your teeth, “anyone with eyes can see that your lip is fucked up. I care about whether you’re hurt. And I have a feeling it has to do with Sunghoon,” you paused, “and I’m sure you know that I should know what happened. But he hasn’t told me anything.”

You finally looked at him again, “Which is why I came to you.”

Jake sighed, running a hand through his hair. You knew you’d cracked him. It was almost too easy. You just hoped what he admitted was the full truth.

He licked his lips before speaking, “You’re right. This,” he motioned to his busted lip, “does have to do with Sunghoon. There. You happy now?”

So you were right. You desperately needed to know the details, though. You didn’t give up that easily.

“Jake.”

“What?”

“What happened between you guys?”

He let out another sigh, then pursing his lips to fight a scowl. He laughed a bit to himself before clearing his throat:

“We fought.”

You weren’t shocked. Between Sunghoon’s newfound behavior and Jake’s altered physical appearance, you assumed that was what happened. However, you feigned shock so he could continue.

“Yeah, I know, right? Funny. Good guy Sunghoon tried to beat the shit out of me,” he laughed through the pain, a look of discontent in his eyes.

“Why… why would he do that?” You mustered out. You scared yourself sometimes with how well you could act.

“You tell me.”

Your words temporarily genuinely got caught in your throat, “W- what?”

Jake tilted his head at you, “He’s your boyfriend.”

“Jake, you already know that he refuses to tell me anything about this. Plus, he and I aren’t dating anyways.”

“Really,” he commented passive aggressively, “because for someone who isn’t dating you, he was really protective over me helping you. While you were throwing up, mind you.”

“Huh?”

It started to click. The appearance of Jake, followed by the appearance of Sunghoon, Sunghoon barking Jake’s name, them leaving, and Sunghoon coming back, alone. And, of course, the busted lip.

“Yeah. Your little not-boyfriend was mad that I was your knight in shining armor for once, not him,” he scoffed, “and he told me to back off.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Said he has suspicions about me or some shit like that.”

You laughed at his words. Of course Sunghoon had suspicions about Jake. You would have suspicions too if you were him. 

“What’s funny?”

You attempted to return to normal, “Nothing, nothing. It’s just- Jake. You really can’t be mad about him having suspicions.”

Jake paused and chuckled while running a hand through his hair once more, “Yeah, he’s not wrong for having them, I guess.”

You rolled your eyes playfully at him before becoming a bit more serious, “Okay. Well, uh, I’m sorry about, y’know, that,” you motioned to his lips, “and- and thank you. For helping me all those days ago. And for being honest with me.” You gave him a genuine smile.

“Yeah, of course, uh, I’ll see you around then?” Jake said as you started walking towards his apartment door. 

“Maybe,” you left him hanging, and as you were going to pull the door open, you turned to face him one last time as he waved bye to you.

Pulling the door open, you turned around, ready to leave. Instead, you ran into a tall figure, who was clearly trying to enter while you were trying to exit. So much for trying to go to see Jake unnoticed.

The man you ran into was none other than Jay.

vii. LIKE A FEVER

You weren’t surprised. You really weren’t.

Of course Jay would tell Sunghoon that you were at Jake’s. Of fucking course. And honestly, after the conversation you and Jake had about how Sunghoon felt about you two, you didn’t blame Jay for narcing. You did kind of resent him for it, though, because jumping to conclusions never ends well. 

Plus, the situation had absolutely nothing to do with Jay. He should have just butted out while he was ahead.

When Sunghoon arrived at your apartment the morning following the Jay incident, you expected it to be a pleasant visit. Not whatever he was doing right now.

As soon as you let him in, he stormed past you into your living room. You tried to grab his arm but he just shook you off.

You shut the door and turned back around. He looked tense. You knew this wasn’t going to end well.

You shyly followed him into the living room, not entirely sure why you were cowering at the moment. You wanted to chalk it up to the fact that it was Sunghoon, but you were never this nervous about confrontations with fuck-buddies. It was weird.

When he reached the couch, he sat down and motioned for you to sit on the chair adjacent to it. Sunghoon ran a hand across his face and groaned.

“Y/N,” he breathed out, obviously irritated.

You looked at him, “Sunghoon…”

He scoff-laughed, “Do you want to explain yourself to me?”

“About- about what?” You asked. You weren’t dumb, but that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t play dumb for the time being.

“Don’t fucking play dumb, Y/N,” Sunghoon spat at you, “okay? Do not play dumb.”

“I can’t explain myself if I don’t know what you want me to explain.”

He sighed. You were right. You could tell he hated when you were right, because you’d cornered him into expressing his anger. Men never seemed to like to talk about their feelings.

“Okay,” he sighed, once more, exasperatedly, “Do you wanna tell me why you were at Jake’s yesterday? Alone?”

“Who told you that? Was it Jay? Because he doesn’t know the full story-”

“It doesn’t matter who it was, Y/N! You need to explain yourself!”

He stood up at his last sentence and looked at you incredulously. You tried to get him to sit back down and calm his nerves, “Sunghoon, sit down, please. It’s not what you’re thinking, at all.”

Ironically, it was what he was thinking, but the one time that you two were caught was the one time that it hadn’t been anything weird. He was wrong, but in the same breath, he was also right.

“No, damnit, Y/N,” he said, “I’m not going to sit!”

“Sunghoon,” you replied, now standing, “it’s not at all what you think it is.”

“Really?” He asked, aggravated, “Then fucking tell me what it was.”

You stepped closer to him, now also getting frustrated, “I’ll tell you exactly what it was if you would just listen.”

“Oh, I’m listening, alright.” He said, staring at you with a fiery gaze.

“Okay. Then just hear me out,” you replied, trying to calm yourself, “I went to Jake’s apartment to ask what had happened between you and him the other night. When I was getting sick, and-”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me, Y/N,” he groaned, looking at you with a snarl, “you could have just come and asked me what the fuck happened! You didn’t need to go to him!”

“I fucking tried that!” You yelled at him, “You wouldn’t tell me anything! Have you forgotten somehow?!”

“It doesn’t matter, Y/N,” he breathed out, still angry, “you shouldn’t have gone to him in the first place.”

“I wouldn’t have,” you started, “I wouldn’t have, if you would’ve just, I don’t know, been honest with me?!”

“Y/N,” he started, “I don’t think you understand what’s really happening here.”

“Stop. Stop right now. You think I’m stupid,” you commented, flailing your arms around, “you think that I don’t understand whatever the fuck is happening. I don’t want to play this game anymore, Sunghoon. The game where you know everything and I’m not allowed to know anything. And if I find out on my own, I ‘don’t even really understand’. At least, according to you.”

“That’s not what I’m saying-”

“No. Stop. Leave my apartment,” you looked him in the eyes, “I don’t want to do this,” you motioned between you two, what you were referencing pretty obvious to him, “anymore, if you’re going to play this stupid fucking game. I’m done.”

“Y/N, come on. Don’t be like this.”

“Leave. I don’t want to talk to you right now. We can talk once you’re ready to try and listen to me for once,” you ordered, pointing to the door, “leave, Sunghoon.”

You didn’t watch him exit your apartment. Once he was gone, though, you made sure to lock the door. You leaned against the door, pulling your phone out of your back pocket, and opening the messaging app.

This time you didn’t care if it was a bad idea.

you : me and sunghoon broke things off

Within seconds, Jake started typing a response, so you turned off your phone and ran a hand across your face. If Sunghoon was really worried about Jake, now, if anything, you had to spite him and rub it in his face. Jake was still attractive. Jake would take you back. You guess it was just bound to happen.

Three minutes later and no response despite the typing bubble still being there. You began to give up hope, until he follows you up with an answer:

do not answer : come over

You arrived at Jake’s apartment with record time. You didn’t care if Jay was there, or if he would show up at some point, because now that you and Sunghoon were on a break (or whatever it was) you had free reign to do as you pleased. Even see Jake.

When Jake opened the door, his eyes immediately lit up at your figure. You looked a bit like a mess, but he didn’t seem to care.

You couldn’t lie, the stress made you look disheveled, and you were wearing probably the trashiest outfit you owned. Jake didn’t seem to mind as he pulled you into his house.

He led you down the hallway, “Jay’s not here. I figured you wouldn’t care, though, because who is he going to tell now?”

You laughed at his words and followed him into his bedroom. His laptop was seated on his bed, open, because he’d been doing some work, assumably. He moved it further to the wall, then walking and shutting the bedroom door before sitting down. He beckoned for you to do the same.

You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear before sitting down next to him. You made yourself comfortable on his bed before speaking:

“Sorry about the sudden text.”

He furrowed his eyebrows at you, “Why would you be sorry? It’s not your fault that Sunghoon is an ass.”

You smiled at him, “You don’t even know what happened and you’re already taking my side.”

He leaned closer to you, “Ah, Sunghoon is always an ass. That has nothing to do with you or your situation.” 

He gave you a look, then continued, “What even happened anyways?”

“Oh, yeah, right,” you said, adjusting your seated position to face him better, “uh, it’s so dumb. Sunghoon got mad that I came over the other day and accused me of cheating or some shit. He wouldn’t even listen.”

“See,” Jake exclaimed, “he is an ass!”

You giggled at his words, grateful that he was there to make you feel better. It took a lot for you to ignore how the situation was really making you feel, but having something to distract you mattered more right now.

“It’s so funny,” you replied, “the fact that the reason I was even here was because of him. I even told him that! He doesn’t ever want to listen to me.”

You groaned, dramatically throwing yourself backwards onto Jake’s mattress.

He copied as you did and commented, “He’s an ass. Like I said.”

“It’s whatever. It doesn’t even matter now, I don’t want to talk to him,” you covered your face in your hands, “just thinking about him is pissing me off.”

“I get it,” he said, now suddenly sitting up, “I know how you feel.”

You sat up too, “What really bothers me is that he and I aren’t even exclusive. So even if you and I did fuck, there shouldn’t be an issue.”

You rolled your eyes at the situation.

“I mean…” Jake trailed off, treading lightly with his next choice of words, “now that you’re not exclusive… or there are no ties… there isn’t an apparent issue.”

You looked at him with widened eyes and a slight smile, “You sneaky son-of-a-bitch. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to have sex with me!”

Jake leaned over and moved his computer onto the ground. When he came up, his face was mere inches from yours.

He took a hand and brushed your hair away from your face. His touch sent chills through your body. 

He licked his lips, “And if I didn’t know any better, I’d think that you agreed to come over here for a real reason.”

You smirked at him, leaning in to meet his lips in the middle. His hand flew to your waist and pulled you closer to him. His touch was needy, but in your moment of desperation, you’re sure yours was too. Jake deepened the kiss and pulled you onto his lap.

Maybe this was what was meant to happen. If Sunghoon really wanted to paint you as a villain for coming to Jake’s, maybe you should become the villain. 

What’s wrong with a little fun, anyways?

viii. A SCAR LEFT IN ME

That night, you ended up staying at Jake’s place, no surprise. He always left you shocked with how much you missed having him in bed and as a friend. Sure, he wasn’t Sunghoon, but he’d have to do.

Two weeks and a some more hookups later, you’re sitting in Jake’s apartment kitchen. He was cooking something, and you were sat on the counter, watching him. In the time that you’d made yourself comfortable at Jake’s, you’d had more than a few run-ins with Jay. There was no doubt that he knew that you and Sunghoon had broken things off, but still seeing your presence obviously made him slightly upset. He refused to acknowledge you.

As if on cue, Jay walked into the apartment, not greeting either of you. He made a beeline for his room and slammed his door shut. 

“What’s crawled up his ass?” You commented, kicking your feet.

“I don’t know, he’s always in a bad mood when you’re here.”

“Understandable,” you said, thinking about Ella suddenly, “it probably makes him mad that he knows you’re cheating on Ella with me.”

For the past weeks, Ella really hadn’t made an appearance in your mind. A part of you felt bad, but you didn’t really care. If she was all that special, Jake wouldn’t have cheated on her.

“No, that’s not it,” he replied, looking up from the stove, “we broke up. He didn’t even like her all that much anyways.”

This was news to you. Sure, now that you’d thought of it, you hadn’t heard any news of Ella recently anyways. But you’d just assumed it was because Jake didn’t want to talk about his girlfriend to the girl he was cheating on her with.

“You guys broke up?” You hopped down from the counter, facing him with your whole body, “since when?”

“Like, a week and a half ago,” he explained, returning his eyes to the food he was making.

You thought of all the possibilities that could follow you asking the next question, but decided to go ahead and ask it anyways:

“Why?”

“Y/N,” he started, “you know it’s because of you. Even beyond having sex, it’s only ever been you. Ever since we met at that party.”

You took a step away from him, slowly. There was no way this was happening, again. You felt stupid for letting this happen, but you didn’t want to lose Jake as a friend. If you couldn’t look past his feelings last time, you definitely couldn’t look past them this time.

“Jake,” you said, “you know that this isn’t going to work like that.”

Jake turned the stove off and faced you, “What do you mean?”

“Come on, Jake. I couldn’t be with Sunghoon because of you, and I can’t be with you because of him.”

“What are you saying?”

“I couldn’t be with him because of you. He didn’t like us together.” 

“Yeah, but he’s out of the picture now,” he commented, stepping towards you.

“No, Jake, I-” you stopped yourself. Jake was right. Sunghoon was technically out of the picture now. So what was holding you back? No matter what you tried to think of, your mind always came back to Sunghoon. All of this nonsense made you think that maybe, some time, you had accidentally treaded too closely to the “more than friends” line with Sunghoon. This terrified you.

“It doesn’t matter,” you continued, “you were happy with Ella! Why would you mess that up for someone who you know it won’t end well with?! You’ve tried this before, and you didn’t succeed. Why would you now think that it would be anything different?”

He walked closer to you, almost cornering you to a wall. You swallowed deeply and braced yourself for whatever he would say next.

His words came out breathy, “I want you to ruin me, Y/N. Ruin my ideas about love, about what love is. Ruin me, so that even when I do get hurt like I inevitably will, and I go running back to Ella, all I can think about is you.”

You gulped, and he leaned in closer to you.

“You drive me into an absolutely uncontrollable desire. And, trust me, I have tried so hard to see her the way that I see you, feel the same desire. But, it’s only ever been you.”

He finally steps back from you, keeping his face straight, but you could see traces of desperation behind his gaze.

You cleared your throat, walking away from him and towards the living room where your keys and bag were.

As you walked down his hallway, he trailed behind you.

“Y/N…” he said softly as you grabbed the doorknob to leave.

“I need some time to think about this, Jake.”

Later that night, you found yourself still obsessing over Jake’s words. It was absolutely astonishing to you; how the man could be pushed away from you so many times but come crawling back for more. Even when he had a girlfriend. His feelings for you were probably genuine, and some parts of you wished that you could feel that back for the boy. He deserved someone to love him. You didn’t think that someone would be you.

You let your mind wander back to Sunghoon. At this point, you’d almost accepted defeat. You’d broken the one rule of being friends-with-benefits: catching feelings. And to make matters worse, you’d broken things off with the first man you’d had genuine feelings for in years. You were really good at messing things up for yourself.

Suddenly, your thoughts are interrupted by a call. The caller ID read “sunghoon ☺️💨”. Your heart jumped.

You don’t know what possessed you to answer so quickly, but you soon found yourself answering the phone and putting it to your ear.

“Hello?” You answered, attempting to sound as unimpressed as possible.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, obviously at least a little stressed, “I thought about what you said, y’know, two or so weeks ago, and I’d like to talk to you. Can I come over?”

“Only if you’re coming over to apologize,” you snarled, “otherwise fuck off.”

You hated how upset you quickly became, but from the reminders of Sunghoon’s actions two weeks ago, and the mix of emotions you felt towards Jake since this morning, you allowed yourself to be consumed in frustration.

It only takes ten minutes for Sunghoon to reach your apartment. Once let in, he immediately embraces you, catching you off guard.

“Woah,” you said, your voice muffled by his figure.

“I’m sorry.”

His apology felt like the gates of a dam being opened, because it was as if in that second, you’d come to clarity. About everything.

“I-” you tried, but nothing came out of your mouth, “it’s okay.”

“I was mad, and I was stupid, and I- I should’ve listened to you,” he said, not letting go of your figure. You hugged him back, running a hand down his back, “It’s okay, Hoon, it’s okay.”

You pulled away from him, getting his attention, “Let’s go to my room, yeah? We can talk there.”

As you sat down on your bed with him, you let your guard down. He was really fucking upset, anyone could see that. Sunghoon grabbed your hand as he continued, “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I ruined something good, I know. I’m just asking for you to forgive me.”

You rubbed your thumb over his finger as you tried to lighten the atmosphere, “Why the sudden change of heart?”

Sunghoon chuckled a bit through the tears forming in the corners of his eyes. He knew you’d already forgiven him, your body language was obvious. He laid his head on your lap, facing downwards.

“I fucked up,” he said, his voice muffled.

“What did you fuck up, Hoon?”

“I broke the one rule.”

“Turn over, I can’t hear you,” you said as you ran your fingers through his hair.

He rolled, his eyes now looking at yours. You brushed some hair away from his face gently. You could still see the tears brimming in his eyes.

“I broke the one rule.”

“What rule?”

“Of being fuck-buddies, Y/N.”

Your heart dropped at the words.

“I-” he choked, taking one of his hands to grab your own, “I have feelings for you, Y/N. Like real, genuine ones. I can’t risk losing you again.”

In a moment, everything from the past months had all came crashing down onto you.

“Okay,” you said, “I feel the same way. But I think I need time.”

You loved Sunghoon.

ix. I’M NOT A MONSTER

You and Sunghoon stayed together for the rest of the night, enjoying the other’s presence as you basked in all that you could from the lack of the previous weeks.

When you woke up the next morning, you smelled breakfast being made. God, this man really was willing to do anything to get you back. Your heart swelled.

You walked to the kitchen, letting yourself smile at the occurrence. You really had missed Sunghoon a lot.

As you approached him, you tried to be a quick as possible, not wanting to waste any more time of being away from him. Damn him, you really did like him. How could you have been so blind to your feelings before?

Once you reached him, you whispered, “Hi.”

He turned to the right to look at you, letting a smile form on his face, “Good morning, beautiful.”

You flushed at his words, “It’s 9am and you’re already being a flirt.”

“Can’t help it,” he replied, turning back to the food, “do you want some eggs? They’re almost done.”

“I’m okay, thank you though,” you said, tilting your head at the man, “I think I’ll just have a bagel or something.”

He nodded and you turned to your small pantry to find the bagels. Sunghoon turned off the stove and plated the eggs, taking a bite.

Suddenly, the doorbell buzzed.

“I’ll get it,” Sunghoon said, placing down his plate onto the counter. You didn’t mind that he was answering the door, he’d done it before. You wanted to find where the bagels were anyways.

You heard the door open, followed by Sunghoon’s voice ringing out a name that pierced through the air:

“Jake.”

Your heart dropped. What the fuck was he doing here? You told him that you needed time. Does he ever listen? You slowly made your way to the door.

“Oh, hey…” Jake cleared his throat, “Sunghoon. What, uh, what are you doing here?”

Before anything could unfold, you made yourself seen by the two men.

“Y/N!” Jake exclaimed.

“Oh, hi, Jake,” you walked your way next to Sunghoon, “what’s up?”

“I just…” he trailed off, glancing between you and Sunghoon, “wanted to ask you something real quick.”

“Oh,” you said, “you can come in.”

You led Jake to the living room and Sunghoon closed the door, speedily following behind you two. You could tell that he wasn’t thrilled that Jake was here.

An awkward silence consumed the room. It seemed that whatever Jake had on his mind, he wanted to say it one-on-one. In order to get it over with as quickly as possible, you turned to Sunghoon and suggested, “Sunghoon, would you mind finding the bagels for me really quickly? Just for a minute so we can talk.”

He scowled at Jake before turning away to walk to the kitchen. You watched him make his way to the pantry, not missing how he turned back to look at you and Jake once more. You sent him an apologetic look.

Once out of earshot, you lowly said, “Jake, what are you doing here?”

“Uh, sorry,” he explained, “I wouldn’t have come if I knew he was gonna be here.”

You rolled your eyes, “Jake. What do you want?”

“There’s a new restaurant that just opened downtown,” he started, tilting his head at you, “I wanted to see if you would go with me.”

You sighed, “The offer is really sweet, but I told you that I needed time, Jake.”

“I can’t do that,” he huffed, laughing in pain, “you know that. I can’t stay away from you. You drive me crazy.”

“Jake…” you trailed off, looking back at the kitchen. Sunghoon was holding a bag of bagels, staring daggers into Jake.

“You should leave,” you commented, turning back to him, “you can just come over to talk later. When Sunghoon’s not here.”

“Okay,” he said, peeking at Sunghoon, “okay.  I’ll let you know when I’m headed over.”

“Okay,” you nodded at him, leading him to the door, “bye, Jake.”

You shut the door and returned back to the kitchen. Sunghoon was putting your bagel into the toaster, so you went to the fridge to grab out some cream cheese.

Sunghoon was the first to break the silence.

“I don’t like when you two are together.”

You faced him, cream cheese in hand. You set the item down on the counter and stalked your way over to him, touching his arm.

“I don’t feel anything for him, Hoon.”

He furrowed his eyebrows at you, hinting at disbelief.

“Not anymore.”

He nods, turning to face you. He clears his throat, “I understand that, Y/N, but he obviously feels differently for you.”

“I realize that,” you commented, looking away.

“I really want to be with you, Y/N. And, I know that you need time, and I’ll give you all the time that I can for you.”

You nodded, looking back at him.

“But,” he started, getting more serious, “I don’t want him to be a part of your life anymore. He doesn’t know how to control himself.”

“I know,” you admitted, pursing your lips, “but I don’t know how to let him down easy.”

Sunghoon was right. Of course he was. But you were being genuine; if Jake wasn’t going to let up weeks ago, he wouldn’t let up now. Especially because he thought he was so close to having you.

The toaster popped, and you walked over, letting your hand drop from Sunghoon’s arm.

“I’ll do what I can.”

x. IS IT FATE THAT EVEN OUR DEPARTS REPEAT?

You were agonizing over Jake coming over. It was the worst idea ever, but this time you would put an end to everything. The thought of that only soothed your nerves slightly.

When Jake arrived at your apartment, you let out a breath that you didn’t realize you’d been holding in.

“Hey,” you breathed out, opening the door for him.

“Hi,” he said, walking into your home, “everything okay?”

You two walked your way to the living room where there were some drinks laid out for you two. You’d laid out wine again, but this time as a nerve soother rather than something to cause an escalation of actions.

“Yeah, I think.” You said, sitting down on a chair. Jake sat on the couch, the seat closest to you.”

“You think?” Jake questioned, smirking at you.

“Yeah, I don’t know,” you admitted honestly. You took a breath in, “I’m just stressed out, I guess.”

You grabbed your glass of wine from the table and took a drink, watching Jake do the same.

“So,” he started, placing his wine glass down, “what’s up with Sunghoon being here this morning?”

“Oh,” you said, shocked at his bluntness of the topic. He’d just got there and was already getting down to business. You ran a hand through your hair, “I don’t know, we kind of made up. It’s a touchy topic right now.”

“I see,” he commented, taking another drink of his glass of wine, “I’m not sure if I should be happy for you or upset for myself.”

You cleared your throat, “Jake, it really has nothing to do with you.” You took another drink of wine before looking back at him.

“Really, because as I recall, you guys broke it off because of me,” he raised his eyebrows at you.

“Yeah, we did,” you looked at him with confusion, “but us getting back together has nothing to do with you.”

“So what you’re saying is,” he got up and walked towards you, “Sunghoon is afraid of what I can do.”

You also stood up, challenging him, “I wouldn’t say afraid,” you cocked an eyebrow at him, “more so he’s not dumb.”

“Oh, but he’s so dumb,” Jake titled his head at you, a flirty pout appearing on his lips, “because if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have left your apartment today. Now, I get you all to myself.”

God damn this man.

In a rush of lust, he pushed his lips on yours, grabbing your waist. You melted into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. It was absolutely intoxicating.

Jake broke the kiss and held your face close to his, “He can’t make you feel special like I do, baby.”

He returned to your lips, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, slightly tugging it unintentionally.

Just like Sunghoon does.

You separated yourself from Jake almost instantly, removing your arms and backing away. His hands were still on your waist, but you grabbed his wrists, “Jake.”

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“Jake, don’t call me that,” you sighed, “we can’t do this anymore. Seriously.”

He loosened his grip on your waist, and you let go of his wrists. He scoffed, “What? Is it because you’re back with Sunghoon now? You guys aren’t even dating. I thought your bond was no-strings-attached.”

“It was,” you said, “it was. But- but now, I have feelings for Sunghoon. Like real, genuine feelings.”

Jake flared his nostrils. It was subtle, but you still noticed.

“I want to be with him.”

Jake turned his head to the side. A blanket of silence was thrown over the room. The tension was extremely thick, it could be cut with a knife.

A minute later, you heard a voice whisper out, “Am I not good enough for you?”

“What?”

“Y/N, you know I’d do anything for you,” he turned back to you, now louder and more frustrated, tears brimming in his eyes. His face was flushed, “but you never give me a fucking chance to prove it.”

“Jake,” you tried deescalating the situation, “I’ve never felt anything for past lust. You know this. This is the same story as when you tried this months ago, and when you tried this yesterday.”

He said nothing.

You continued, “I can’t keep giving you false hope. You deserve someone who can actually love you. That someone is not me.”

He gulped, once again staying silent. The tears in his eyes became more prevalent. The silence lingered for many minutes too long, the atmosphere becoming more and more suffocating at the second.

“I would do anything for you,” he croaked out, “I don’t think that will ever change.”

His anger had dissipated for now, and he was fighting back a frown.

“I can’t-” his voice cracked, “I can’t stand knowing that you’re not mine, or worse, the fact that you’re with Sunghoon. Every single fucking time I see you with him, I feel like I’m being punched in the gut.”

“I’m sorry,” you swallowed, still processing his words. You knew Jake felt strongly about you, but you had no idea it was this strong. You let yourself be quiet for a second before finding any words to reply with, “I really don’t know what to say.”

He laughed a painful laugh, “…but being punched in the gut never killed anybody.”

He wiped at his eyes, furrowing his eyebrows once more, “I wish that I could spit in your face and tell you that I wish we never met.”

You felt yourself hurt at his words.

“But I know that would be a lie.”

Another silence fell.

“It’ll always be you, Y/N.”

You shook your head slightly, feeling tears brim at your own eyes. You were devastated that you were going through this a second time, but somehow this time, it hurt way more than the first.

“Jake…” you sent a sad look to him.

“My door is always open. For you.”

You felt yourself gulp at his words, finding any strength possible to push away any feelings you had at the moment.

“You should probably leave…”

“Okay,” he accepted, whispering. He walked to your apartment door and you followed him.

“Stay safe, Jake.”

He left. You shut the door, locked it, and immediately leaned your back to it and slid down. Deep down, you knew you’d always have a spot in you that cared for Jake. You had grown fond of him in a platonic way.

But that was the problem. He couldn’t just shut out his feelings for you.

Drowning out your guilt was impossible as felt a large weight make its way onto your chest.

xi. IN THE END, THE ANSWER IS ALWAYS ONLY YOU

It’s been four months since that day.

You’d seen Jake around, a couple times at campus and very rarely at group hang outs.

He always sent you an awkward smile, and you knew deep down that seeing you had killed him many times. Anyone could tell that he never looked at his new girlfriend the same way he looked at you.

The atmosphere around each other was always tense, but because you’d promised Sunghoon, Jake wasn’t really a part of your life anymore.

Sunghoon and Jake’s bond had definitely changed. They didn’t seem like friends anymore, if anything it was a more formal relationship. They acknowledged each other’s presence, but even with the new girlfriend, Sunghoon hadn’t let down his guard with Jake.

In a sense, you missed Ella. She deserved a lot better, and you always agonized over how her absence was your fault. Obviously, Jake had a play in it, but you left all the blame for yourself.

In the past months, you’d felt yourself have a shift in behavior. It was odd, having realized that you’d become more open and caring about the relationships in your life. Ningning had told you that “not having the nonchalant front anymore” looked good on you.

You’d let yourself get a lot closer to her. She was now your best friend, always helping you through your mental struggles and rooting for you. She made sure to be there for you all the time, and she was ecstatic about you and Sunghoon making up.

Sunghoon had asked you to be his girlfriend about three months ago, and you had never been happier to had let your guard down to the man. He made you feel special, and you never once regretted your decision of choosing to keep him by your side rather than Jake.

Jake had stayed the same majorly. At least from what you could tell. His new girlfriend was nice enough to you, but you didn’t really think that he was happy with her. It seemed that he was just trying to fill the void that you’d left in him.

And the most ironic part:

His girlfriend looked strikingly similar to you. She was beautiful, of course, but her personality and appearance had almost mirrored yours completely. Her personality was more similar to the one that you’d had before, the nonchalant, doesn’t-care-about-anyone, slight asshole. Contrary to you, however, she never left his side.

Even with her around, you knew the truth.

Jake’s words still forever rung in your mind:

“It’ll always be you.”

a/n : rrrrrrraaaaahhh it’s done

[discotitsposts]

You’re lucky you’re cute

reader and reid flirting at the party of a mutual friend

she/her pronouns used

some mature themes and choice words used. overall supposed to be lighthearted and silly

i love this photo so much

You were getting ready for a party a good family friend of yours was hosting. You had known David Rossi since you were a little kid and it’s rumored you were somehow related. Rossi treated you like his own and had been there for you your whole life. He had even helped you out of a few legal jams you’d found yourself in high school.

He had seen you first learn to walk, started school, hugged you while you cried on his expensive suit when you went through your first breakup, and graduate high school. Now you were going through academy training to work at the FBI. You wanted to be just like David.

You had never met anyone on his team in the BAU except Hotch. He had told you about everyone though. You were most excited to meet Penelope she sounded like a ray of sunshine. You were very intrigued by the mysterious Dr. Spencer Reid. He sounded very interesting. According to Rossi he could read 20,000 words per minute and had an eidetic memory. How amazing is that? Being a bit of a smarty pants yourself you definitely wanted to talk to him.

You had also learned he was apparently wildly handsome from what some girls at the academy had said. Though you’d never seen a photo of him, he sounded fantastic.

On the drive to Rossi’s mansion you listened to your favorite music. Singing every lyric to kill your nerves. You parked and it seemed everyone else had already arrived.

You ring the doorbell and Rossi opens it. When he sees you he smiles proudly and yells “Principessa! Sei bellissima!” He hugs you and brings you in to meet the team.

“You know Aaron, this is JJ, Emily, this is Derek Morgan.” You shake each persons hand as he says their name.

“Ah, the infamous Derek Morgan.” You say. “Nice to meet you all.”

“Pleasures all mine, gorgeous.” Derek winks at you. Emily punches his arm. “Leave her alone weirdo.” She scolds.

A brightly dressed woman with beautifully styled blonde hair runs into the room carrying two wine glasses and speaking excitedly.

“Is she here yet? Oh hi!!” She pulls you into a big hug.

“You must be Penelope! I’ve heard so much about you. All of you. What about the infamous Dr. Reid? Is he here yet?” You nonchalantly ask.

“She’s developed a little bit of a crush on our good doctor.” Rossi spills.

“I have not!” You pout, embarrassed by this very true fact.

Everyone chuckles. The doorbell chimes loudly through the foyer.

“Uh oh, it’s your future husband.” David teases.

“Keep it up and I’ll pour your vintage scotch down the drain.” You retort. Rossi puts his hands up in defeat and goes to answer the door.

“Here’s the one I want you to meet! Spencer, this is our little star of the FBI academy!” Rossi boasts. Dr. Reid smiles and waves at you. You reach your hand out to shake his and he frowns. They were right. He’s literally so handsome I can barely think. You think. Barely.

“I don’t shake hands. Too many germs. It’s actually safer to kiss.” He tells you.

“Ok, come here then.” You reach out and pucker your lips. Spencer slowly backs away and clears his throat.

“Oh my god, wait no I was joking.” You quickly attempt to retrace what you said. Ever so embarrassed you quickly change the subject. Spencer smiles shyly.

“Anyways, um David told me you have an eidetic memory. I think that’s really fascinating. I actually couldn’t wait to meet you and have a conversation with you. I really really want to get to know more about you! Not that I was obsessed with you before even meeting you, definitely not the case. That would be weird. You’re really cool, I mean you seem cool because how would I know that. I never met you before. Although I was expecting more of a mad scientist look to be honest. You’re really attractive though, I mean your face is scientifically perfect I mean… you know what I’ll be right back” You ramble on and realize you’re embarrassing yourself. It’s not your fault. When you look at Spencer’s face your brain goes to mush.

You excuse yourself and try to run away to the safety of a nearby restroom. Someone grabs hold of your wrist despite the estimated germ count.

“I’d love to get to know you too.” Spencer’s smiling at you.

“You don’t think I’m a crazy rambler?” You ask, worriedly.

“I’m a bit of a rambler myself.” He chuckles and leads you to a nearby couch. You two end up talking for over an hour about everything. He tells you about his mother, his life in Vegas, and how he’s banned from multiple casinos which made you laugh so hard. You tell him stories of Rossi when you were growing up. The time Rossi had choked on some of his pasta when babysitting you and had spat it out through his nose. This makes Spencer crack up.

“Guys look.” Morgan motions to you two talking and laughing. Everyone else at the party looks over.

“I had a feeling they would get along.” Hotch breaks into a smile. Rossi however is scowling.

You leave to refill your root beer and David walks over to Spencer.

“Hey Rossi, she’s really fun to talk to. Thank you for inviting me tonight. I’m having so much fun.” Spencer smiles up at him.

Rossi plasters on a fake smile. “Are you?” Spencer nods happily. Rossi’s face grows serious and he leans in, “Good, because if you hurt her, just remember, I would know exactly how to get away with murder.” Rossi smiles at Spencer and pats his back and walks back to the party. Spencer swallows nervously.

“Wasn’t planning on it.” He whispers to himself.

“Wasn’t planning on what?” You walk back in and hand him an extra root beer.

“Nothing. Thanks.” Spencer smiles and opens his root beer.

“So tell me more about when you got kidnapped by a cult leader?” You ask eagerly.

“Well this guy, his name was Benjamin Cyrus. We infiltrated his cult by pretending to be child protective services. Me and Emily got caught in the middle of crossfire. SWAT shot at them, they shot back, and put us all in danger.” He tells you everything about that case. You watch in awe at the way he talks. “Rossi actually brought them fried chicken with a microphone bug in the bucket.” Spencer laughs recalling the silly detail.

“Mmm sounds delicious.”

Rossi has been keeping his eye on you two. You look really happy but he likes having Spencer terrified of him. Your back is to Rossi and when Spencer makes eye contact. Rossi points at you and then Spencer and makes a cutting motion on his throat. This makes Spencer nervous. You notice him turn pale and turn around. You see Rossi is just playing cards with Aaron.

Penelope goes around passing out liquor to everyone. “Bottles for everyone!” She cheers over and over slurring her words. Morgan wrangles her to sit back down, stumbling, also intoxicated. You down your bottle and Spencer watches in shock.

You get crazier and Spencer goes to put the bottle Penelope had handed him, back in the kitchen. You’re dancing or trying to anyway. Spencer accidentally bumps you and you pull him down with you. The bottle in his hand breaks and splashes all over you both. Rossi hears a loud crash and comes into the kitchen.

“What the hell happened in here!” Rossi shouts noticing the red liquid trickling everywhere and you, in a now-red stained dress.

“We fell.” You and Spencer say at the same time.

You giggle, “Jinx!”

“You know the origin of the jinx was actually-“

“Clean this up brainiac!” Rossi cuts him off and hands Spencer a sponge.

“Yes sir.” Spencer falls to his knees and starts scrubbing. You notice the room felt hotter as he did so. Was it the weather or the sight of Spencer working hard?

“I’m sorry you got red wine all over you. You looked really nice. Not that you don’t look nice anymore. You look beautiful. I just feel bad your clothes got stained now.”

“Of all the days to wear a white dress. You’re lucky you’re cute Dr. Reid.”

You pick up a different sponge and help him clean.

“You don’t need to help.” He starts.

“It was partly my fault. Plus I know he’s gonna come in here and try to see if he can see his reflection in the tile. If he can’t,” You make a cracking sound and air-motion bending something, Spencer presumes to be, his neck if the red wine doesn’t come up.

“The guys so rich he can afford someone to professionally clean.” Spencer laughs at this.

“I know! One time when I was seven I accidentally spilled some jam and he told me if I didn’t clean it, all the jam in the world would disappear and I could never eat it ever again.”

Spencer opens his mouth in shock, “That is so mean!”

“It worked though.” You say while scrubbing the floor harder. He laughs so loud. Something he noticed he hadn’t done in a long time.

You decide to push his buttons a little since practically none of the wine got on him. You flick some water and soap at him.

“Hey!” He splashes you with some water back.

You stand up and discreetly grab the water sprayer on the sink and turn it on full blast. Spencer yells and with no way to defend himself, tries to stop the water with his hands. Penelope and Morgan run in and you spray them. Everyone’s laughing so hard you don’t see Emily come up behind you with a bucket of water. She throws it on you and you scream.

“ITS COLD!”

Hotch and Rossi walk in and shake their heads in disbelief.

“I’m disappointed in you all,” Hotch starts. Everyone stops and fearfully looks at him. “for not including me in the fun!” He grabs the water sprayer from you and splashes Rossi. While you’re all fooling around you notice a groundbreaking discovery. Spencer’s lilac purple shirt is completely see through and soaked. His nipples are even hard from the cold water. Hot damn.

You show up behind him and squeeze his hand and pull him to one of the bedrooms. You both lean in and kiss softly. You attack his lips with kisses and soon the kisses mesh together and become messier. He’s moaning into your mouth while you attempt to rip his shirt off.

“Wait.” He stops you. You pull away confused. “If Rossi’s upset about some red wine won’t he be more upset if we get… you know what on the bed?”

“Cum?” You ask. Spencer makes a disgusted face at your choice of words. “Nah only if he comes through with a black light.”

“No I meant the…stains.” He points at your dress, his face completely red.

“Oh this?” You motion to your now red dress. You reach behind you and untie your dress, letting it fall to the ground. You stand in front of him completely bare. Good thing you chose to not wear anything under it this evening.

You start to hum a song while you stalk towards him. When you push him back on the bed you hear a loud knock at the door.

“AHHHHHHHH” Spencer screams while covering his crotch with a blanket. You simply pick your soaked dress off the ground and sloppily put it back on. Rossi continues pounding his fist on the door.

“Tie me.” You command.

“Huh?” Spencer looks up confused and disoriented. You motion to the back of the dress and Spencer ties a cute bow with the strings. His nimble fingers moving as quickly as they’ll allow. He thinks Rossi’s fist might soon break through the door. You calmly walk to the door and carefully turn the knob.

“Hello.” You smile sweetly.

He simply crosses his arms and glares at Spencer. “Both of you, out. Now. I don’t even want to think about what you were thinking of doing in my guest bedroom young lady.” He wags his finger at you. When Spencer stands up to leave, Rossi stops him with his hand.

“Remember what I said I’d do if you hurt her. She’s like a daughter to me.”

“I-I-I won’t David, I was actually going to ask your permission. If I ma-maybe could take her on a date?” Rossi’s eyebrows raise at Spencer’s request, as if to say, tell me more. “I think she’d enjoy a film fest, they’re playing some old monster movies down at the drive in, some are in Russian, but that’s alright because I could translate to her. I’ll have her home by 11:30 I promise.” Spencer’s stumbling over his words nervously.

Rossi bursts out laughing, “Kid she doesn’t live with me anymore. She’s an adult. You don’t need my permission. Hope you two have fun. I was only worried about my sheets!” He runs to the bed fixing the creases you two had made.

After that he asked you if you’d like to go, of course you said yes. That Saturday night you two had so much fun and fell in love even more.

the end :)

pls pls tell me some of u thought this was even a little bit funny

actually pls tell me if u enjoyed this at all

i’m laughing so hard writing the part about his nipples help

fun fact when i wrote the part about reader wearing a white dress i was listening to this

[magicshopaholic]

Fever Dream (Taehyung x OC)

Summary: Dressed in vintage Chanel, your and Taehyung's messy past comes back to haunt you.

Pairing: Taehyung x OC (feat. Jungkook)

Genre: Some fluff, angst

Word count: 9.1 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, if that

A/N: Here is the next installment of unedited fic series. Takes place a little over a month after A Day in the Life.

Tagging: @bbl32, @quarter-life-crisis2, @margopinkerton, @faearchives, @whoisbts, @purpleseoul7, @kflixnet (if you want to be added to the taglist, lmk)

Listen to: "free fallin'" by john mayer

taehyung masterlist| main masterlist

Dilara [11:40] Hey babe. Reached?

Tae [11:40] Just about. Wow, it’s been really long since I’ve been to one of these. Forgot how chaotic it is.

Dilara [11:41] Tell me about it. Everyone’s impossibly good-looking.

Tae [11:42] Really? Did you just walk by a mirror or something?

Dilara [11:42] Save some of that charm for tonight, pretty boy.

Tae [11:43] See you in a few, pretty girl.

Dilara slips into the ladies’ room facing the mirror over the basins and exhaling. The flight and drive were long enough, but she seems to be the only person showing signs of it. It helps to have Taehyung nearby, though, even if actual time together seems limited.

She needs to be back out there, though, letting the crew know and get started on whatever PR they have planned. Fluffing out her curly hair and noting how the curls seem to have set nicely for once, she rummages in her bag for a last minute spritz of perfume and swipe of lipstick.

As she searches, one of the stalls behind her opens and she hears the sound of another sigh. It’s gratifying, she reflects, to not be the only one feeling overwhelmed. 

“It’s quite a crowd outside.”

Dilara chuckles, finally locating the tiny travel-size bottle of Zara’s Nude Bouquet and taking off the cap. “Tell me about it,” she mutters, straightening up and spraying it on her neck and the inside of her wrists. “Felt like I needed to escape.”

The other girl laughs lightly, and Dilara glances at her in the mirror. Her long black hair falls down her shoulders but she looks familiar - Dilara immediately thinks of Charles Leclerc’s girlfriend and the image sticks.

“I get that,” she agrees, and her voice is soft, almost musical. “Wow, that’s a nice scent. Where is it from?”

“Oh, it’s Zara.” Without thinking anything of it, Dilara offers it to her. “Want to try?”

The girl straightens up as well and turns to her - it’s not Charles’s girlfriend - and gasps mildly. “It’s such a coincidence - I think I packed my cosmetics in the wrong bag and they all reached my hotel. You really don’t mind?”

Dilara shakes her head wordlessly. Impossibly good-looking. But she can’t look away.

Jennie smiles gratefully and takes the slim bottle, spraying it in the same spots Dilara did and returning it. “Thank you. It’s been a long flight.”

“And a long drive from the airport.”

“I know.” She pauses. “You look kind of familiar, by the way. I’m picturing a Polaroid… I feel like we’ve met?”

“Oh, uh…” Dilara shakes her head, turning back to this basin to wash her hands, barely able to feel the cool water. “No. We haven’t.”

“Oh. I’m Jennie. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Dilara.”

“That’s a pretty name. Where is it -” A phone ringing interrupts her and she winces, apologetically checking her phone. “Sorry, I have to go. Maybe I’ll see you later tonight.”

Dilara forces half a smile. “Maybe.” 

Jennie gives her a small wave and leaves. For a moment, nothing happens. Dilara fluffs out her hair and checks her phone out of habit before frowning, realising she can’t remember if she washed her hands. The water feels cooler now and she squeezes out some of the floral-smelling lotion next to soap, rubbing it over her hands.

It’s time to head out. The impossibly good-looking people aren’t going anywhere and Dilara is technically working. As she reaches the door, her phone buzzes.

Tae [11:50] Can you tell me where you are? I need to talk to you.

—

It seems likely to be a huge event. The marquee spans what looks like half an acre at least, under which two dozen tables with designer chairs and sparkly, minimalist place settings are spread out. Flex boards are strategically placed with who are probably the most famous Korean celebrities in attendance, the low stage is a shiny black and the few non-Korean guests stick out, although not in an unpleasant way. The guest list and event decor is no surprise - it is a Samsung event after all.

Dilara spots Taehyung walking past a camera with Jimin, only the latter waving. He looks… distracted, despite the smooth and impassive expression. They stop under the shade where he takes off his sunglasses, frowning slightly in the afternoon sun. Her gaze falls lower, to the band of his trousers to his hand in his pockets, and the shape tells her they are balled into fists.

Dodging one of the impossibly good-looking people, this one a vaguely familiar person - probably an actress - Dilara stops some ways away from Taehyung and Jimin, directly opposite them. It won’t take long now, for his eyes are darting around anyway, until they find hers and his forehead clears. 

Dilara holds his gaze for a moment before turning around and beginning to walk. She isn’t exactly sure where to; most of the signs are written in Korean with the English translations in smaller font. 

But she continues without stopping, her pace mild and stance casual, her arms folded across her chest. Somewhere along the way, her peripheral vision catches Taehyung on the opposite side of the path, one hand still in his pocket as he saunters with grace.

They turn together, coincidentally, down a path to a huge trailer. The gigantic Big Hit logo, combined with the confidence with which Taehyung strides in, tells her exactly whose it is. Few staff members scatter as he pushes open the door and stands aside to let her in, not speaking until it’s closed and they’re alone.

Taehyung opens his mouth to speak but pauses, as though changing tacks at the last second. “Hi,” he says, a hint of a smile spreading across his features.

It’s been three weeks since they’ve seen each other, she recalls only now. “Hey,” she replies, although it comes across as a bit of a sigh.

He steps towards her, a bit hesitant, before placing one arm around her waist and gently bringing her to him and hugging her. He kisses her on the cheek. “Missed you,” he whispers, his lips on her hair.

Dilara’s hands go around him automatically, but it’s hard to focus. Or there’s too much focus - she can’t tell. It takes her a moment, but she nods into his shoulder, closing her eyes and trying to enjoy the first whiffs of his Sauvage, always the best ones.

“Missed you, too,” she murmurs. Her hands tighten around his t-shirt, momentarily clutching them tight before she forces herself to step away.

Taehyung touches her cheek, allowing himself another fond gesture before dropping his hand to his side. He glances at the floor and for a brief fraction of a second, a pit of fury takes form in her stomach. 

It disappears almost instantly, though. Taehyung swallows and looks up. “Look, I have to tell you something. When we reached and got out of the car, there was a short briefing and one of the producers mentioned that -“

“Jennie is here.”

Taehyung’s face goes slack. “Wait, you knew? How? Did Calvin Klein tell you or was it like a - how do you say it? A memo?”

“Calvin Klein is not going to send anyone a memo of Jennie’s travel plans. No, I - I ran into her in the ladies’ room,” she answers. He doesn’t respond immediately and Dilara bites her lip; she feels like she should say more.

“You… ran into her?” Taehyung’s voice is almost hushed. “Like, you saw her or -“

“I stood next to her. We talked about how long our flights were and then she borrowed my perfume.”

Dilara can’t blame Taehyung for looking slightly incredulous. It sounds like a fever dream when she says it out loud. Wildly, it occurs to her that for the next few hours at least, she and Jennie Kim will smell the same.

Evidently, he decides not to probe. “Are you okay?” he asks softly.

“Mhm.”

“Because… I swear, I had no idea she would be here.”

“I know.”

“If I did, I would’ve told you as soon as I -“

“I know. I believe you.”

His eyes flicker and the relief is unmissable. “Good,” he murmurs. 

Dilara looks away, anywhere; the look in his eyes, of anxiety, worry, guilt - it’s a rabbit hole she doesn’t want to go down right now. There’s no place in her mind right now, or in her heart, for anything more than the effort to not make this a big deal. 

“I should go,” she says after a moment. “I need to meet my team and then they have me selecting a dress or something for tonight.” She moves to leave.

His response is immediate. “Lara, are you -”

“I am,” she interrupts, not turning around but stopping in her tracks. “Look, it’s…” It’s weird. It feels like the understatement of the year, or it should be, but she truthfully can’t think of what else it is. “It’s fine,” she says finally, looking back at him briefly. He looks concerned and it’s not what she wants to see. “You’re… all in the same industry. And we’ve moved on.”

Taehyung nods slowly. “Okay. Will, uh… will we see each other before the event?”

Dilara shrugs. “Depends. You’ll probably have to get ready here,” she guesses, and his shoulders falling tell her she’s correct. “Tonight. Later.” Before he can respond, she leaves.

—

Jungkook [13:30] Okay wait. What about these? [picture] [picture] [picture] [picture] [picture]

Dilara [13:31] Um I dunno. The second looks fine.

Jungkook [13:31] Really? It’s not too extra?

Dilara [13:32] Facial piercings are the definition of extra.

Jungkook [13:32] Well that’s why I want a subtle eyebrow piercing. It can’t just be about the tattoos all the time.

Dilara [13:33] Fine, so second.

Jungkook [13:34] Reallyyyyy? I kinda liked the third.

Dilara [13:34] Then go with the third. It’s your face, not mine. Well, yours and Big Hit’s. Are they really okay with their chocolate boy going emo punk right after tour?

Jungkook [13:35] Fuck them. It’s my choice. So third? Actually what do you think about the fourth? With the sapphire stud?

Dilara sighs and lowers her phone. Jungkook’s indecisiveness, while sometimes endearing, is not something she can appreciate right now. It had taken all her will and ability to compartmentalise to get through her video segment a little while ago: Off Track: Get Ready with Dilara Komyshan! 

She still has hours to get ready; the filming made no sense. Neither does the layout of the ground, in her opinion, for there are people arriving from three different entry points. It seems stupid and not very well thought out at all, and Dilara just knows it will cause confusion once the event actually begins.

Taking a sip of the canned grapefruit drink she’d picked up from one of the tables, she winces. It’s sugary sweet and, she suspects, not even real fruit. But there were no other options and she was thirsty. Looking around to check if the coast is clear, she tosses it into a nearby bin. Her phone buzzes again and she closes her eyes. 

Damn it, Jungkook. Just get the damn piercing.

Jungkook [13:38] Still there? I was thinking, maybe you were right about the second. Oxidised silver is kind of classic and really makes the whole thing stand out. What do you think?

Dilara [13:40] You know, I really don’t think I’m the best person to advise you here. When I was in school, I had a thing for guys with lip piercings, so what do I know?

Just as she navigates away from WhatsApp, she hears a rustle and whips around.

“Sorry!” A young man, carrying a laptop, two clipboards and a cup of coffee stumbles into her little alcove away from the main event. He says something else in Korean before looking up and noticing her, and his eyes flash in recognition. “Dilara Komyshan!” he blurts out, his face slightly red.

“Uh, yes -” She darts forward to catch his cup as it slips out of his hand, no doubt saving it from spilling all over his clean white trousers.

“Oh, thank you,” he breathes, panting slightly. “It’s been a crazy day and I’ve fucked up - oh, God, I think I’m going to get fired today!” He dumps his belongings onto a table between them and shakes his head, apparently inviting himself to her solitary rendezvous.

If Dilara had to guess, he sounds Canadian. Not knowing if she’s meant to respond, she nods in what she hopes is a sympathetic way, hoping he’s busy enough to leave soon. To her surprise, he leans back against a tree on the other side of the table and fishes around in his pocket, retrieving a pack of cigarettes.

Dilara’s fingers twitch unexpectedly. “Mind if I bump one?”

He raises his eyebrows. “You smoke?”

Shit. “It’s been a crazy day for me, too,” she confesses. “Maybe we can keep each other’s fuck-ups between us?”

He half-chuckles and offers the pack to her. “Dan,” he says, handing her a lighter as well.

“Dilara.” She lights her cig and takes a drag, returning the lighter. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

The nicotine feels a bit stifling on a sunny afternoon, but there’s something mildly comforting about it, too. The only downside of it, she realises, is that it’s opened the door for this Dan individual to take her quip to heart and begin baring his soul to her.

“It’s ridiculous, honestly,” he vents passionately, “because they really shouldn’t give access to things to one person, you know? Not when that person doesn’t understand responsibility or - or commitment to a team, and quits a week before an event. Who does that? Right? I mean - you of all people would understand,” he declares, pointing to her suddenly. “You’re in Red Bull - wouldn’t you commit to your team until the very end?”

Dilara stares, unsure how she’s expected to answer, for Christian Horner would probably tear up her contract and eat the pieces if Max Verstappen demanded it.

“I - sure. Yeah.”

“Exactly.” He shakes his head, his face still red. “It’s just really overwhelming. There’s a lot to do and we’re one guy short and… God, I don’t even want to get into what happened earlier today.” 

He pauses, as though waiting for her to ask. Dilara, looking straight ahead, doesn’t take the bait, silently taking another drag. Next to her, Dan is almost bouncing on the balls of his feet, seeming more flustered than ever.

“Someone accidentally wiped out the version history of our seating chart after making changes to it - bam, it’s out there.” He says the whole thing very quickly and exhales shakily. “And it could… technically be considered my fault - and only technically - because I was the last one to use it but if you really think about it, it’s - it’s really poor planning because - I mean, Google Sheets? In this day and age? And the only person who knew it by heart and - and who was in charge of it -  quit last week. With no warning. And now we’re having to wing it, which brings me back to the whole teamwork thing, so you tell me, you know. Who is really at fault…”

Dilara presses her fingers to her temple, wishing he would leave, for this isn’t worth the clandestine cigarette. He continues venting and she tries to tune him out.

“You’re table six, though, right?” His somewhat frantic voice interrupts her thoughts.

“Uh… I’m not sure. I wasn’t told what table I’d be at,” she mutters, glancing at him to see him peering into his laptop screen. The brightness is at full blast and she can see a Google Sheet open, the first two cells labelled “이름/Name” and “테이블/Table” with numerous names written similarly in Korean and English, and all the table numbers in Arabic numerals. She recognises some names: Kim Namjoon stands out, as does Jang Wonyoung, Sydney Sweeney, Jennie Kim…

“Oh, God - it’s frozen!”

Dan hammers at the refresh button but the cursor turns into a blue circle and he makes a choking sound between a cry and a groan. At that moment, his phone rings and he visibly gulps at the screen. “I have to - I have to take this,” he stutters to no one in particular, answering it and backing away, raising a hand to Dilara in apology before disappearing.

Dilara raises her eyebrows and mimics his movement, privately glad for a moment of peace. She can’t listen to his complaints about the event any longer. It seemed like an excruciatingly boring event from the beginning and she’s already rather preoccupied, thinking of all the practice on the SIM she could have squeezed in this weekend if it weren’t for this stupid event.

The laptop screen is unrelentingly bright; blinking a bit, she taps the key to lower it. Frowning, she moves the mouse to see it working perfectly. Rolling her eyes, she leans to the side to look for Dan.

“Mate, your screen is responding again,” she says, but there’s no answer. In fact, she can’t even hear him anymore. 

Maybe he jumped, Taehyung would say, seriously and without expression, maintaining it even when others would chuckle.

She scrolls absently to search for his name. Cha Eunwoo, Alia Bhatt, Jeon Jungkook… she spots her own name, a brief moment of relief to see she will have at least one familiar face at her table. Then, a little while later, Kim Taehyung.

He had looked so… concerned for her today. Anxious. All the casual confidence he’d retained for the rest of the world had fallen away to reveal the moments of vulnerability he reserved for her. She can’t recall at this moment how it usually makes her feel, for today, she couldn’t turn away fast enough.

Dan returns a minute later, just as Dilara is leaving.

“Thanks for the cig,” she says, giving him a small wave.

“You’re welcome. Oh - it’s working again!” He lets out a low whistle, running his finger across the mousepad. “Thank God. Well - it was really nice to meet you. Big fan.”

“You, too. Good luck with your seating chart.”

—

It’s late afternoon when the guests begin assembling by the grounds, everyone poised to make an entrance on the “pink carpet”, a peach-coloured path curving towards the marquee. The sky is a melange of grey and pink and orange, a very light breeze giving the event the vibe of an upscale wine-tasting.

Taehyung, dressed in an off-white linen suit with his hair left loose and freshly washed so it may “go where the wind pleases” (his stylist’s words, not his), speaks into a mic as he answers the interviewer’s questions, glancing occasionally into the camera as he does.

“And will you be hoping to meet any friends here tonight?” the interviewer asks chirpily.

“Of course - I’ve already seen many people I know here, so I’m sure we’ll all have a good time tonight.” He smiles after this perfunctory, scripted answer, before giving her a nod of acknowledgement and making way for the next celebrity behind him. 

It had been the company’s idea to have them make separate entrances, given Seokjin and Yoongi were not attending, so as to not make the group look smaller. As he heads inside, waving at some of the cameras and some lucky fans who’ve managed to get access to the outer areas of the grounds, he takes the opportunity to let his eyes roam around the crowd and the guests, hoping to spot Dilara.

They haven’t seen each other since their fleeting moment earlier today. He had managed to maneuver a way out of one of their filmings to head back to the hotel, hoping they would cross paths before she had to get ready. While she had left him a short message saying she would try, evidently the timings hadn’t worked out and they’d missed each other.

At least, Taehyung hopes it was the timings. He can’t exactly blame Dilara for being a little on edge today, possibly a little distant, but the only solution he can come up with is to be with her, be there for her, maybe show her however he can that she doesn’t need to be on edge at all.

She hasn’t arrived yet, though; a little disappointed, Taehyung turns his attention to the artfully adorned tables, realising he has no idea which one to sit at.

“Check the name cards.” Jimin sidles up next to him and points at the thick cards in little tents at every seat, anywhere between six and ten at each table.

“Found mine,” says Namjoon, who’d entered a minute before Taehyung, holding up a card at a table right in the front. “Hobi’s is here, too.”

“Hang on, are we all not together?” Taehyung asks nobody in particular, frowning.

From behind him, another idol shakes his head, overhearing the question. “Nah, doesn’t look like it,” says Chan, peering at the name cards as well. “They probably don’t want to draw attention to idol groups, I guess?”

People are starting to take their seat, having to check name cards everywhere. A few people who look like they are event management have scurried over, helping guests, the whole thing becoming slightly chaotic.

Taehyung finds himself hoping that he and Dilara might be at the same table, if it’s indeed at random. He begins searching for both their names, but Jimin gets there first.

“Found Dilara,” he mouths, catching Taehyung’s eye meaningfully. “Oh, and Jungkook is at this table, too,” he adds in a regular volume.

“Anyone else?” Taehyung asks hopefully, trying not to be too disappointed when Jimin shakes his head. He counts it lucky that Dilara still has Jungkook, at least one familiar face at an event that’s mostly strangers to her.

Jungkook isn’t here yet either; he’d be recording a demo with Yoongi in the hotel room despite the latter not attending the event, and would probably reach just in time for it to start.

“Oh, wait - Jimin!” Taehyung calls, holding up a card. “Here’s yours.”

“Oh, great. Who else is here… dude, so are you!” Almost diametrically opposite the circular table, Jimin holds up a card with Taehyung’s name. “Awesome!” 

Taehyung grins and they high-five at waist-level before taking their seats, Jimin continuing to scan the other cards. “I don’t know who this is… oh, this is the actress from Snowdrop, right? I think it is… and - oh.” Jimin looks up at Taehyung, and it’s an expression Taehyung immediately takes note of.

“What?”

“Do you know who else is at this table?” he asks in a hushed voice, leaning over and glancing at the entrance surreptitiously. 

Taehyung knows before Jimin subtly turns the card towards him, with the name of a guest to be seated directly between both of them. Jennie Kim, the card reads, equally calligraphic in Hangul and English.

There’s an announcement of some kind, a muffled voice asking guests to take their seats quickly. Taehyung turns towards the entrance, his heart somewhere near his stomach and jerking uncomfortably, hoping to see Dilara and wondering if he can signal to her to meet him… his eyes dart around, a bit frantic. It takes him a moment to realise another familiar face is making its way… in his direction.

“Taehyung hyung.” Jungkook strides over and taps his shoulder, motioning for him to get up, stepping away from the table. Taehyung meets Jimin’s eyes briefly, who raises his eyebrows and shrugs.

“Yeah?”

Jungkook presses his tongue to his teeth. “Do you know -” He looks around and lowers his voice to a whisper, “- that your ex-girlfriend is here?”

“Yes,” he answers instantly. “And I can do you one better. Do you know where she’s -”

Jungkook interrupts him. “Does Dilara know?”

Taehyung stops abruptly. “Uh, yeah. I told her this morning. Or - I guess she already knew….” He trails off when he finally sees Dilara enter along with the last few guests, finding her table almost instantly. His shoulders relax when she catches his eye; he gives her the most subtle smile he can, knowing there are cameras around that could be capturing his any and every move. To his surprise and relief, she returns his look with a small smile. “Listen -”

“Holy shit,” whispers Jungkook, looking at something over Taehyung’s shoulder. He smiles briefly and gives a small wave before turning back to him. “She’s at your table?” he hisses through gritted teeth.

“Apparently. Look, it’s a coincidence from hell, but can you do me a favour? You and Lara are the same table - can you just tell her -”

“How?”

“How - what?” Taehyung frowns, realising by now that they are one of the few people still standing. “What do you think coincidence means? I didn’t have any part in this - but can you just please tell her that I’m sorry anyway? I’ll still text her, but… please.”

Jungkook, who seems to be regretting his momentary outburst, nods wordlessly before turning around and heading over to his table, sitting only one seat away from Dilara, both of them giving each other extremely perfunctory, polite camera-ready smiles of acknowledgement.

Taehyung tries, once more, to turn around and catch Dilara’s eye but when Jimin hisses his name under his breath, he’s forced to look ahead as the host arrives on stage. There’s some applause and introductory jokes being made; it’s not a lot he can do to avoid it, not when there are cameras around or when the seating arrangement is so awesomely fucked that the moment he turns his head even slightly to his right, he meets Jennie’s eyes.

“Hi,” she says quietly, giving him a formal sort of smile. “How are you?”

For a fleeting moment, he wonders if he can pretend to have not heard her. But even the thought is absurd. “I’m good,” he replies, nodding. “And you?”

She nods in response and the small talk comes to a natural end, at least for now. The event may as well be happening in French for all the focus that Taheyung devotes to it; choosing his moments, he tries to subtly turn his head to look back at Dilara’s table again. At one point, he sees her chatting with the person next to her, the captain of South Korea’s football team. It makes him feel slightly better that she has company; next to the footballer, Jungkook cranes his neck slightly towards them, as though trying to keep up with the conversation.

Somewhere during one of the musical performances, Taehyung feels his phone buzz. He opens it to see the group chat.

Namjoon [18:17] Taehyung. Cut it out.

Taehyung [18:18] What?

Namjoon [18:18] Turning around to look at Dilara. It’s very noticeable.

Taehyung [18:19] Shit. Sorry.  How can you tell, though? Your table is in front of mine.

Hoseok [18:20] Because only Namjoon has figured out a way to turn around and look at something behind him without being obvious about it.

Taehyung [18:20] Sorry. A bit on edge.

Jimin [18:20] Lol. No surprise there.

Taehyung [18:20] Shut up. Can you tell if Dilara is looking? 

Jimin [18:21] She isn’t. Jungkook is, though. Probably hasn’t checked his phone yet.

Seokjin [18:22] What is up with all the texts? I’m trying to take a nap.

Jimin [18:22] Taehyung is sitting next to Jennie while Dilara is at a different table.

Seokjin [18:22] What!

Taehyung [18:23] Not what it sounds like. Jesus. Our assigned seats are next to each other.

Hoseok [18:23] Dilara is going to kill you.

Taehyung [18:24] No, she isn’t. She’s not crazy - she knows this is out of my control.

Yoongi [18:25] Hell of a coincidence to be out of your control.

Seokjin [18:26] No kidding. This is k-drama level coincidental. Next thing you know, the camera pans to your mortal enemy slipping a wad of cash into a waiter’s hand.

Namjoon [18:27] We may be going off topic here. Taehyung - be careful, though. If anyone gets a single shot of you and Jennie sitting together, it’ll start rumours without a doubt again. And you know YG won’t deny them.

Taehyung pauses, for this hasn’t occurred to him. Not that it’s some kind of epiphany - rumours are a daily battle, almost - but today, Dilara has been his sole focus throughout. 

He meant what he said: his girlfriend is a reasonable person who, despite some expected discomfort with the situation, is not the kind of filmy exaggeration they were hinting at. But the fact that this might make its way back to social media again, a year and a half after the world has lost interest, following Dilara wherever in the world she goes… he recalls the lowest points of their relationship, looks of heartbreak and betrayal that still haunt him to this day, and his throat feels momentarily tight.

Taehyung [18:28] I will deny them. You can be sure of that.

“Camera!” 

Jennie’s voice hisses next to him, almost making him jump out of his skin. He slips his phone under his thigh in a swift movement, eyes ahead and immediately bopping his head to the music to avoid whatever rubbish headline the wrong picture could lead to: BTS V insults rookie girl group by checking phone during performance!

“Thanks,” he mutters, seeing her nod from the corner of his eye.

As the night progresses, Taehyung makes his attempts to look back at Dilara more subtle but no less frequent. He succeeds a couple of times, too, once even managing to make eye contact with her. Her expression is unreadable, though, and he begins wondering if this is truly bothering her, how much it is, and how there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it.

“Everything okay?”

“Mhm.”

It’s a break in the program, during which a few people are going back and forth to the rest rooms, getting their hair and make-up retouched and doing impromptu spot interviews. Taehyung and the rest of the group have been advised by the staff via text to not leave their seats; as he looks around, it seems as though most people are in a similar boat. 

He turns around to look at Dilara, only to see her seat vacant and - to his surprise - Jungkook staring back at him, brows furrowed. He frowns curiously but the younger member looks away in an instant. Taehyung wonders briefly if he imagined it; raising his eyebrows and shrugging it off, he unlocks his phone.

Taehyung [19:00] Hey, love. I know this night probably isn’t what you had in mind after three weeks apart. It definitely isn’t mine. I promise I’ll make this trip worth it, though. I really missed you.

Biting his lip, he sends the message. He waits for a few seconds for a reply, turning around to check the door. She eventually returns, catching his eye and giving him the same small smile she’d given him at the beginning of the event, as though they were lounging around in his apartment instead. She says something to Jungkook when the anchor begins speaking again, signalling the end of the break.

Lara [19:02] Missed you too

Taehyung stares at the message, not sure what to make out of it. He’s sensing some distance from her; it’s not unexpected and he wishes more than anything that he’d been able to talk to her, just once, before everyone had taken their seats. He turns around briefly again, hoping Jungkook relayed his message to her.

“Shit,” Jennie mutters next to him. Catching his eye momentarily, she tilts her phone under the table towards him. Taehyung’s heart sinks at the picture, taken from a distance, of the two of them watching the stage, their heads tilted in the same angle.

It’s a normal picture, with at least ten other people in the same frame including Jimin; but the incriminating red circle drawn into the picture makes it clear what the focus is. The fact that it’s already on Instagram makes his stomach roll with worry and guilt, and he hopes, desperately hopes, that it won’t affect Dilara after all this time.

“Tabloids will start their thing,” she adds, shaking her head. “The company will be so annoyed. What about Big Hit?”

“I don’t know,” he replies truthfully, after a moment. He hasn’t thought about it; Namjoon mentioned it in caution and here he was, correct as usual. Big Hit would be annoyed; a recycled rumour, micro-expressions getting dissected and heartbroken fans spamming their social media - none of these were desired during an ongoing tour.

Taehyung knows it’s a headache and if not handled properly, could escalate. It could impact concert attendance, merchandise sales, fan-meets… but these are just words right now, swimming in his head in a faint voice that sounds like their manager’s. Bigger than all that, in the forefront of his mind is only Dilara, once again forced to remember the worst period of their relationship.

“I can’t believe this seating,” he mutters. “I thought the bigger the event, the more tuned in they would be to… stuff like this.” He gives her a sideways glance.

But Jennie gives him a small shake of the head. “I doubt it’s on purpose. I heard there was some confusion with the tables anyway… their system was down or something.” 

“Feels irresponsible.” Then he sighs. “No offence.”

She half-chuckles under her breath and locks her phone. “None taken. It’s been over a year, anyway. I don’t think there’s a single person who remembers or cares about our fling anymore.”

It’s almost compulsive now; he turns around again. Dilara’s eyes are fixed on the stage, though, but he takes a moment to watch her anyway, feeling every variation of guilt and anxiety and adoration when he thinks of how her evening might be going.

“Is that Jungkook?” Jennie whispers next to him. “I should say hi later. Oh, I met the girl sitting next to - oh, shit.” She clicks her tongue softly in apparent recognition. “That’s where I know her from - she did the sportswear campaign for Calvin Klein last month. Dilara Komyshan, the race car driver,” she states. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognise her before - I must really need some sleep…”

There is something inexplicably strange about hearing Dilara’s name come out of Jennie’s mouth. He expects Dilara would find it even stranger; he bites his lip and faces the front again.

“… do you know her?”

Taehyung doesn’t respond, but evidently his silence and laser focus on the glass in front of him is enough explanation.

“Oh,” says Jennie softly, and Taehyung’s heart crumbles a little, suddenly horribly, terribly afraid that everything would be ruined again.

The performance on the stage ends and there’s applause. Taehyung claps automatically, without feeling. Next to him, Jennie turns her head slightly towards him.

“I only met her for a minute… but she seems really sweet. And very pretty.” She gives him a small smile. “Lucky guy.”

—

When the event ends and the anchor announces the dinner being hosted in the hotel restaurant, everyone begins heading out of the marquee and back down the carpet. There are some quick interviews and pictures, mostly of celebrities ducking into cars and leaving. Taehyung hopes he can skip the dinner - or at least make an appearance, have half a drink and be done with it. 

Namjoon [19:50]

Group vlive in 20. Yoongi’s room.

He closes his eyes; the last thing he feels like doing is pretending to be chipper for a camera, while staff members stand behind it and cue reactions out of them. But the message is in the group chat, meaning the set-up is probably already done, and any interaction with Dilara will unfortunately have to wait.

Taehyung could yell; it’s bad enough that this weekend threw this unnecessary curveball at them but the constant interruptions are getting on his nerves. The impending rumours, the company’s reaction (fuck the company, he thinks irritably), the faraway tables - anything and everything under the sun to try and distract him from the only thing he cares about. 

He doesn’t want to drop her another text to tell her about his plans; he has to meet Dilara now, actually be face to face, see her, hold her hand and talk to her before he does anything else, even if it’s only for a few seconds. 

Taehyung [19:53] Hey. Where are you?

He waits a minute but she doesn’t respond. Unwilling to wait, he starts to call her when he finally spots her across the room, standing with three other people, all of them listening to a tall Caucasian and vaguely familiar man in a suit. Dilara has a glass of champagne in her hand and is a complete knockout; elegant in a short cream dress, she reduces him to staring for a good few seconds before he remembers where he is.

Almost as though she’s heard him, her eyes flicker a bit and meet his. His heart skips a beat; as he steps forward, she gives him that same small smile and shakes her head infinitesimally. She slips her phone out of her small clutch and turns away to type, a few seconds before his phone buzzes.

Lara [19:55] Have to stay for dinner. Meet you upstairs later. xo

The disappointment starts to settle into his stomach but he steels himself; they’re both working and if she says she’ll see him upstairs, then there’s nothing much else he can do except hope that her nonchalant demeanour isn’t a facade she’s putting up for him.

The vlive is a chaotic one for which Taehyung is glad; he’s preoccupied but there’s enough happening without the focus landing on him. Seokjin and Yoongi, both of whom managed to worm their way out of attending the event, are still at the hotel, the only two in t-shirts and joggers. Taehyung checks his phone constantly, wondering when Dilara will be back, only occasionally smiling and throwing in a comment here and there so he can’t be accused of slacking off.

“Alright, have a good one.” Namjoon waves and heads towards his room on the other side of Yoongi’s. Waving back, Jungkook and Taehyung head towards theirs, a two bedroom suite they’re sharing with Jimin, conveniently to allow for Dilara to stay over.

“What a fuckall night,” mutters Taehyung, kicking off his shoes by the front door and shrugging off his linen jacket. He checks his phone again: no new messages.

“What were you thinking?”

Taehyung opens the mini fridge and takes out a small bottle of whiskey and a cold bottle of water. “About what?” he asks without looking up, mixing himself a drink.

“You know what.” Jungkook says no more until Taehyung finally turns to look at him, frowning. “You were sitting with - with Jennie. All night.” He shakes his head. “Come on - you have to know what that looked like.”

Taehyung scoffs. “I don’t care what social media thinks. They overanalyse everything to death, anyway.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Not them. I’m talking about Dilara.” 

His heart jerks momentarily. “Did she say something?”

“She - she didn’t have to,” he stutters. He looks quite nervous. “I could see her face - she was sitting right next to me.”

Taehyung raises his eyebrows and takes a sip of his drink. “And what did her face look like?” he asks deliberately, for the accusatory note in Jungkook��s voice is now unmistakeable.

“I - well, she looked… not happy,” he answers lamely, rubbing the back of his neck. While Taehyung’s gaze is fixed on him, Jungkook’s keeps flickering away. “She kept looking over at you two and… I mean, it’s obvious, right? Of course she wouldn’t like it.”

“She would also know, though, that it was a coincidence,” he retorts, calm yet unable to keep the bite out of his words. “And that I definitely didn’t know about it - which, by the way, I asked you to tell her. Did you?”

Jungkook hesitates. “Of course, I did. I’m just saying… you could’ve done something. You were talking to Jennie. Out, in the open with, like, no problem.”

“We were in public. What was I supposed to do? Ignore her when she spoke to me? Create a scene and ask to be moved to a different table?” Taehyung scoffs and shakes his head. “Yeah, that would’ve turned out great.”

“That’s not the point. It’s not fair to -”

“How is it not the point? This situation was out of my control. I was texting Dilara the whole time - and she was responding. And she didn’t sound half as pissed off as you do,” he points out. “Why do you even care so much?”

“Because I made her a promise!” Jungkook blurts out, his ears turning red, eyes big and troubled.

“You made her a promise? What - today?”

“No, last year. Before you two got back together,” he says in a smaller voice, and Taehyung’s stomach drops. “I promised her I’d tell her if you ever did anything like that again.”

Taehyung is silent. The drink feels heavy in his hand but he doesn’t move. It feels strange, like a shift in the paradigm of his relationships, as though a glass wall has been lifted and they’re all further away than he thought.

Jungkook seems to have realised the implication of his words. “Not that… I thought you would ever do that again.” He sounds like he’s about to say more but stops abruptly.

It stings. The long days and nights spent atoning for what he’d done, the hopelessness at the end of every day in Europe that he’d probably lost her for good, all stacked against the voices of his friends telling him, convincing him he wasn’t a bad person and that if he tried, if he truly tried and stayed and loved, he would be worthy of a second chance.

As it turns out, they weren’t sure either. Once a cheater, always a cheater. He wonders if Dilara still thinks that, and feels his vision blur momentarily. 

He clears his throat, slowly meeting Jungkook’s eyes. “Anything else?” he asks. “Since you made her a promise?”

“Taehyung hyung…”

But Taehyung continues staring him down, unmoving until Jungkook sighs.

“No,” he says quietly. 

Taehyung nods and finishes the remainder of his drink. Without another word, he places the glass on the table and heads into his room, leaving Jungkook outside.

—

The dinner goes on longer than Dilara would have liked, but the CEO of Tag Heuer, Red Bull’s biggest sponsor, is not a guest she could have avoided face time with. Christian had even taken the trouble to drop her a message (Try to get a picture with Frederic for the PR team), so her options were fairly limited.

Using the spare room key Taehyung had sneaked her during a brief, five second long interaction this afternoon, she enters the suite and goes straight into the room with the door closed. It’s empty at first glance, but the faint scent of nicotine directs her to the balcony.

Taehyung is sitting on the cushioned bench, still in the shirt and trousers he was wearing for the event, looking slightly ruffled and smoking a cigarette. Dilara stops at the doorway and leans against it, stepping out of her heels and closing her eyes against the breeze.

“How was the dinner?” he asks after a few seconds.

“Boring,” she answers. She opens her eyes to see him still looking out of the balcony. “How was your night?”

He simply shrugs. “I’m sorry about the… the tables and the seating,” he says after a moment, finally looking up at her. “I don’t know how that happened.”

Dilara bites her lip. There’s a choice she can make now, and the second option can probably lead to salvaging the remainder of the night. But something about how he’s sitting, some distance away and instantly apologising, makes her go with the first.

“Well… if you can believe it…” She sighs and looks at the ground, suddenly a bit embarrassed to be saying it out loud, “it may not have been… a total coincidence.”

Taehyung frowns slightly at her and when she raises her eyebrows, silently asking him to understand without her having to say it, he scoffs lightly.

“Really?” His voice is soft, but the surprise is clear. “Wow.”

“Yeah,” she mutters. “You’d be surprised how lax the organisers were with information like this. Leaving open laptops around and venting to strangers…” She rolls her eyes.

He chuckles again softly. He takes a drag and flicks some ash from the cigarette, looking down, his smile fading before he speaks again. “Why?” he asks.

Dilara hesitates, her heart clenching slightly. “I’m not sure,” she admits. “I guess I just wanted to see…” She pictures the earlier hours of the evening, seeing her boyfriend and his ex-girlfriend sitting next to each other, but doesn’t feel the familiar anger or betrayal anymore. In fact, she struggles to feel anything at all. “I don’t know,” she finishes.

Taehyung nods slowly but says nothing. He finishes his cigarette and takes a deep breath. 

“Are you angry?” she asks.

Still looking out, he pokes his tongue into his cheek. “I don’t think I can be,” he says carefully.

Dilara swallows. “I suppose that’s true,” she agrees, a little defensively.

“How did I do, though?”

“What do you mean?”

Taehyung turns to her, finally. “I mean… I’m guessing it was some kind of a test.” He shrugs. “How did I do? Did I pass?”

Dilara holds his gaze, realising with a slightly pang that it’s the first time they’ve spoken this long since this morning. “With flying colours,” she says softly.

If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. There’s a flicker in his eyes, probably of relief, before he looks away. Dilara knows with certainty, though, in this moment, that he really did pass whatever subconscious evaluation she had been putting him through. 

Every single interaction she had spotted between him and Jennie, every quiet bit of small talk, artfully ignoring cameras, looking beautifully bored at an event that was far too long for everyone - it all came to a head in her mind. Dilara remembers exes she cares about, those she hates and those she is indifferent to. Today, despite Jennie being sat next to him and remaining truly and impossibly good-looking, Taehyung treated her like he would have anyone else in her place.

“Maybe I should’ve told you,” she muses, only half-intending to say it out loud.

“Wouldn’t have been much of a test if you had.” He tilts his head at her and tries to force a small smile, and she wonders if he seems sad. 

“It wasn’t meant to be… a test like that. You don’t know what it’s like,” she adds in a smaller voice, feeling defensive again. “I was caught off guard and… it was a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

He nods. “I understand.”

Dilara bites her lip. “I trust you,” she murmurs.

Taehyung says nothing at first; she knows how her words probably sound. “Thanks,” he says finally, very quietly, before looking back ahead. “You may want to let Jungkook know that, though.”

Dilara frowns at this unexpected segue. She wonders briefly if it’s a joke she isn’t getting. “Why would I let Jungkook know?” she starts to ask, but Taehyung beats her to it.

“I know I’m not really in a position to ask you anything, but can I anyway?” He waits for Dilara, still confused, to nod. “You have every right to be angry with me,” he says, “but if you are… can you please talk to me about it?”

She frowns; somewhere, her heart begins to race as she senses her control on the situation slipping. “I didn’t say anything to Jungkook,” she clarifies. “Not about this.”

Taehyung stares at her and her heart slows a bit as he registers her words, internalising them. He finally looks away and Dilara takes it to mean he believes her.

“Why would you even think that?” she asks. “Wait - did he say something to you?”

But Taehyung simply shakes his head and stands up. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have brought it up.” He stops next to her on his way inside and touches her elbow. “I really am sorry.”

Dilara gazes up at him, even the slightest touch making her skin tingle. But something about the way he’s standing before her, apologetic almost by default, makes her heart ache. 

“For what?” she asks. “You didn’t do anything.”

He shrugs, not meeting her eyes. “Just… everything. I’m sorry.”

Dilara is sure she’s lost count of the number of times he’s said this to her, and it hits her now, during the one time he probably doesn’t need to. 

“I’m going to take a shower and go to bed, okay?” Hesitating for a fraction of a second, he kisses her cheek and brushes past her, going straight into the bathroom.

Dilara stays rooted in the same spot for a few minutes, feeling confused and awful. This hadn’t turned out at all the way she had hoped. She had been on her way here, feeling unexpectedly light and almost proud that she’d found a way to get a nagging question out of her head. But something has gone wrong, or fallen out of place, and she’s searching for it blind.

Opting to give him some space, she trudges out to the living room. Curling up on the sofa, still in her dress and make-up, she closes her eyes and wishes the night would end. She’s polishing off a bottle of water from the mini fridge a few minutes later to avoid a hangover when the other bedroom opens.

“Hey.” Jungkook, in track pants and nothing else, looks surprised to see her. “Just came to get my charger.”

Dilara, with her mouth full of water, gives him a tilt of her chin in response, barely looking up. The tiredness of the day has caught up with her, along with the emotional toll, and she rests her head against the side of the sofa and exhales. Taehyung is out of the shower by now, for the sound of the water running stopped nearly ten minutes ago, but Dilara isn’t sure she should go inside yet. There’s a bit of misplaced guilt in her, anger at the guilt, annoyance at the anger, and a craving for a cigarette she hasn’t felt in a long while.

“Everything okay?”

She jumps slightly, having almost forgotten Jungkook was here. She hums listlessly in response, seeing him shuffle towards his room from the corner of her eye.

“Are you sure?”

“Did you say something to Taehyung?” 

Jungkook pauses, but doesn’t look altogether surprised at her question. He glances at the floor and bites his lip. “I didn’t mean to… be so harsh, I guess. But I thought someone should say something.”

“About what?” she asks immediately, sitting up. “And what do you mean by someone? You mean someone other than me?”

“No! I just… I thought you looked kind of pissed off - which would make sense,” he adds quickly.

“Jungkook -” Dilara starts, then sighs and shakes her head, not sure where to begin. She can’t fathom what he might have said to Taehyung, but it’s becoming clear now that it’s most likely the cause for his distant demeanour.

“Look, I wouldn’t have said anything, but I felt like I had to,” explains Junkook, his voice low. “I promised you I would.”

“What are you talking about?” Dilara frowns, bewildered. He doesn’t answer, his shoulders falling slightly. A moment later, it comes back to her: a hotel room, a video game, and Jungkook learning the word insurance. “Right.” She sighs. “Jungkook… this is not what I meant. You don’t have to get involved in our - in our stuff. Okay? And you definitely don’t have to speak for me.”

He bites his lip and nods. “I was going to talk to him tomorrow anyway,” he mutters. 

It does little to make Dilara feel better. He’s still not meeting her eyes, but Dilara wishes he would, because he needs to understand this. She waits until he looks up at her, hesitant and abashed.

“He’s your friend,” she reminds him. “He’s your friend.”

Jungkook’s eyes shutter over. He pokes his tongue into his cheek, suddenly reminiscent of Taehyung, and looks away.

Dilara sighs, regretting her choice of words immediately. “That’s not what I -” But she can’t get into this right now. Shaking her head, she goes back into her bedroom and shuts the door behind her.

The room is dark but the moonlight from the closed balcony is light enough. Taehyung is in bed; Dilara scrutinises his face from where she’s standing, unable to tell if he’s really asleep or simply pretending. She heads into the bathroom and unzips her dress, stepping out of the pool of fabric and leaving it there on the ground. She picks up a faded t-shirt hanging on one of the hooks in the bathroom and slips it on, wrapping the comforting cotton around herself for a moment and inhaling it, before taking off her make-up and brushing her teeth.

Once she’s done, Dilara goes over to the empty side of the bed, pausing at the edge. If he’s angry, he’s forgiven her. She knows he has, just as she knows he will concede to her every single time when it comes to this issue, no matter his own feelings. It disappoints her a bit, although she doesn’t know what or who exactly she’s disappointed in.

She climbs onto the bed and inside the covers lightly, moving to lie beside him. He’s on his side, facing her, with a hand tucked under his cheek; she shifts to mirror him. Even in his sleep, he is so handsome that it takes her breath away. The moonlight softens his features slightly; Dilara touches his cheek with the tips of her fingers, somewhat glad he’s asleep, for she doesn’t know what she would say if he was awake.

It’s too tiring to think about it, though; the long flight she took to get here to Incheon feels like ages ago. She tilts her head up slightly and kisses his nose softly, waiting to see if he’ll wake up. When he doesn’t, she lowers her hand and turns around, closing her eyes and hoping for sleep to end this night. 

A few moments later, his arm comes around her waist and pulls her close. 

—

Thank you for reading. Don't forget to leave a review :)

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

@steddieangstyaugust Day 16 - Freaky Friday: Halloween

i’m challenging myself to keep all these at either 127 or 1,270 words each, see day one for more of an explanation!

Eddie winces sympathetically when the punch spills all over Nancy Wheeler’s blouse.

That’ll be a bitch to get out. He thinks, grabbing a can of something and following her and Steve Harrington back out the open door.

He pauses at the bottom of the staircase, debating if he should follow them up the stairs to give her Wayne’s fool-proof way to get stains out, when Nancy’s already storming back out of the bathroom at the top of the stairs.

Eddie presses himself against the wall as she passes, noticing the lack of a certain King behind her.

He looks up the stairs to see Steve retreat from the bathroom himself, flipping off the lights and leaving the door open a crack. He pinches the bridge of his nose, then, seeming to collect himself, starts down the steps.

Eddie stays rooted to his spot, wondering to himself why the fuck he’s so caught up in what’s happening between the two (who’s he kidding, he knows damn well why he’s paying so much attention to him), when Steve trips on the last step. 

Eddie catches him easily, “Whoa, you okay, your majesty?”

Steve scoffs, his voice tight, “Fuck off, Munson.”

“Sure, sure, just gotta,” he rights Steve, making sure he’s actually on flat ground before letting go. “There; I can fuck off now.”

Eddie turns, heading back through the living room to the corner he’d been haunting previously. 

He’s barely got comfortable again when Billy Fucking Hargrove saunters into the room.

Aaaannd that’s enough of this place for tonight. Eddie thinks to himself, dropping his unopened can of Schlitt’s on the couch as he heads to the door.

Shoving through the crowd, he manages to escape and crosses the yard diagonally to the sidewalk, then to the other side of the street where he’d parked only an hour and a half ago.

He walks behind his van heading for the driver’s side door, when he trips over something.

“Shit! What the–?” he may be clumsy at times, but he knows how to step over a curb, thank you very much.

“Y’lright, Munson?”

“Steve?” Eddie focuses back on the curb and sure enough, there he sits, legs stretched out in front of him into the road.

“Yeah.”

“What’re you doing on the curb, dude?”

He can see Steve’s shoulders move slightly, “Figured I should wait to see if Nanc–, should wait for my buzz to wear off.”

Eddie nods, then against his better judgment asks, “D’ya want me to wait with you?”

Steve shrugs again, then adds a nod for good measure, “Sure man, why not.”

“Cool.” Eddie hops down off the curb and squeezes between his back bumper and Steve’s shoulder.

They sit in silence for a little while, just listening to the low drone of music still coming from Tina’s house. 

Eddie’s trying really hard not to think about the solid warmth of Steve beside him when suddenly, Steve’s palm is burning a hole through his knee.

“Can you stop? Your jingling is driving me up the wall.”

“My jingling?”

“Yeah, that chain you always wear?” Steve says, as if it should be obvious that he’s paid enough attention to Eddie’s pelvic area to know he’s got a chain dangling around his hip. “You’re always jingling, don’t you notice?”

Ah.

“Guess I’ve gotten used to it.”

Steve harrumphs and takes his hand back. Eddie starts bouncing his other leg instead.

Again, against his better judgment but completely onboard with his insane amount of curiosity, Eddie asks, “Can I ask what happened?”

Steve sighs, so Edide tacks on, “You don’t have to, obviously, but I saw the punch thing and then you went upstairs, and she stormed out…? Just thought you’d wanna talk about it.” he shrugs.

And maybe it was the alcohol letting him, or maybe he really did want to talk about it, but Steve says, “She said she didn’t love me.”

Ah, fuck.

“Shit, Steve, I’m sorry– you don’t have to–”

“No, it’s okay.” He waves off Eddie’s concern, “Well, I mean, it’s not okay… but…” he sighs again, letting his head drop. His sunglasses clatter to the concrete.

It takes another minute before he picks his head back up, and when he does, there’s a bit more of the streetlights reflecting in his eyes.

“She said that our relationship was bullshit.”

Eddie winces, “Damn dude, that blows.”

Steve huffs something that sounded like the possibility of a laugh. “Yeah it does.”

“You gonna be alright, Harrington?”

He nods a couple times, then his face scrunches up and it starts to shake instead. “I just want to go home.”

“Well, I may not be able to help with much else in this situation,” Eddie starts, standing up. “But I can help with that. Lemme give you a ride home.”

Steve ignores his stretched out hand, “I can get up on my own, thanks.” He pitches forward suddenly, unbalanced as he gets to his feet.

For the second time that night, Steve’s in Eddie’s arms. “Sure you can,” he teases, righting his majesty again. “C’mon, dude.”

He leads Steve to the passenger door, one hand held tight to his upper arm while Steve death grips his shoulder in return.

With him loaded up into the seat, Eddie mumbles out “Seatbelt.” then rounds the hood to his side.

The ride to Loch Nora is quiet; Eddie’s definitely been in Steve’s shoes before, drinking way too much all at once, so he keeps his radio down low and winces each time Steve’s forehead knocks against his window with eavery bump in the pavement.

“That can’t be comfortable, man, Why don’tcha sit up?” Eddie reaches for Steve’s shoulder, but is shaken off.

“Cold. Feels good.”

“Whatever floats your goat,”

Steve snorts, “Boat.”

“Sorry?”

“Floats your boat.”

“Nah, can’t say that my head knocking against the window floats mine, Stevie.”

Eddie glances at Steve. He’s facing him now, head still against the glass and a smirk on his lips.

His stomach flips, and he has to look away.

“You’re weird, you know that?”

The butterflies in his gut disappear in an instant. “So they tell me.”

“S’not a bad thing,” Steve knocks an arm into Eddie’s, drawing his gaze again. He leans back onto the door, looking out the window, “God knows I’d rather be weird than whatever I am now.”

“Huh??”

Steve’s shoulder moves slightly, “Doesn’t matter. I’m drunk.”

“You want to be called a weirdo? A freak?”

“I want to be real.” he says, dejected still.

“I dunno Harrington, this house of yours seems pretty real.” Eddie gripes, pulling into one half of the horseshoe driveway.

He shifts into park as Steve mumbles something that sounds like “Real fuckin’ empty.”, unlatching his seatbelt and tugging at the door handle.

“Shit, hang on, it gets stuck.” Eddie hops out and jogs around the hood. “My liege,” he bows once he gets the door open.

“You’re such a dor–” Right. Still drunk.

For the third and final time that night, Steve’s in Eddie’s arms, dipped low to the concrete from how he caught him.

Steve stares up at him, eyes flitting over his face and, Eddie’d swear by it later, down to his lips. Only if momentarily.

“Careful, your majesty,” Eddie murmurs, glancing down at Steve’s himself, “I’m not too keen on seeing your driveway turned blue.”

Steve brings his eyes back to Eddie’s, brow furrowed, “Blue?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, standing Steve up on his own two feet, “Y’know, like royalty? Blue blood?”

Steve scowls again, “Whatever, dumbass. Thanks for the ride or whatever.”

Eddie watches as Steve tromps to the door. “Yeah. Whatever.”

a classic s2 halloween party ficlet, who'd've guessed lmao

see the collection on ao3!

[ju-berry]

FANFICTION Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Abbott Elementary had its fair share of chaotic teacher meetings, but the energy tonight felt different. Ava had somehow convinced the staff to turn the usual, mundane meeting into a casual after-hours hangout. Teachers gathered in the school lounge, the room filled with laughter and conversation as they exchanged stories over drinks and snacks.

Melissa Schemmenti sat at her usual spot, half-listening to Janine’s overly enthusiastic chatter while her eyes kept drifting toward the new music teacher from Rio de Janeiro—you.

You had only been at Abbott for a few weeks, but in that short time, you’d already made quite an impression. With your effortless charm, musical talent, and that thick Carioca accent, you seemed to capture the attention of everyone in the room, including Melissa.

“Melissa, girl,” Barbara’s voice cut into her thoughts, pulling her back to the conversation at hand. “You’ve been staring at her all night. If you don’t make a move, someone else might.”

Melissa shot Barbara a look, trying to play it cool. “What are you talking about? I’m just… observing.”

“Observing?” Ava’s voice chimed in from across the table, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Honey, you’ve been devouring her with your eyes. It’s embarrassing.”

Melissa groaned, leaning back in her chair. “I’m not—okay, fine, maybe I’ve been looking. But it’s not like I can just waltz over there and… what? Ask her to dance?”

“Why not?” Barbara said, taking a sip of her drink. “A little courage never hurt anyone. She’s new in town, probably doesn’t know many people.”

Ava smirked, leaning closer. “Yeah, and with that accent of hers? I’m surprised you haven’t already whisked her off to a romantic dinner. Just look at her. She’s practically waiting for someone like you to make a move.”

Melissa shook her head, though her eyes flicked toward you again, watching as you animatedly spoke with Jacob and Janine, your laughter like music to her ears. The way you moved, the way you spoke—it was captivating.

As if sensing her gaze, you looked over at Melissa, catching her eye with a soft smile that made Melissa’s pulse quicken.

Barbara nudged her gently. “What are you waiting for?”

Ava added with a grin, “Go, girl. Let her know you’ve been devouring her just like that Djavan song.”

Melissa raised an eyebrow. “Eu Te Devoro? You know Djavan, Ava?”

Ava flipped her hair dramatically. “Please, I know everything. Now go before I make my move.”

With a sigh, Melissa stood up, straightening her jacket as if preparing for battle. Barbara gave her a reassuring nod, while Ava mimed pushing her toward you. She could hear Eu Te Devoro playing in her head, the words echoing with a meaning she couldn’t ignore.

“Você me tem inteiro e assim tem o que é seu

E eu te devoro…”

She walked across the room, her heart racing a little faster with each step. By the time she reached you, she was surprised to find herself actually feeling a little nervous—Melissa Schemmenti, nervous. Who would’ve thought?

“Hey,” she greeted you, her voice slightly rougher than intended. “You mind some company?”

You looked up at her, your smile warm and inviting. “Not at all. I was hoping you’d come over.”

Melissa blinked, caught off guard. “You were?”

You chuckled softly, tilting your head. “I’ve noticed you watching me for a while now. I was starting to wonder if you’d actually talk to me or just keep staring.”

Melissa cursed under her breath, but you laughed, easing the tension. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. It’s kind of flattering, actually.”

She shifted on her feet, her confidence slowly returning. “Well, if you know I’ve been watching, then I guess I don’t need to play coy.”

You shook your head, eyes gleaming with amusement. “No need at all. I like it direct.”

“Você que é feito de azul

Me deixa morar nesse azul

Me deixa encontrar minha paz…”

Melissa felt something stir inside her, that same pull she’d been feeling since you arrived at Abbott. The lyrics of the song seemed to wrap around her thoughts, drawing her closer to you.

“So, I’ve been thinking…” Melissa started, her voice dropping slightly. “Maybe you’d like to grab a drink sometime. Just us. No Jacob, no Janine. Something a little more… personal.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Are you asking me out, Melissa?”

She smirked. “Depends. Are you saying yes?”

You let out a soft laugh, stepping a little closer. “I think I am.”

For a moment, the noise of the room faded into the background, and all Melissa could focus on was you. The way you looked at her, the way the air between you seemed to hum with possibility. She could already hear Djavan’s voice echoing in her head, the words of Eu Te Devoro swirling in the atmosphere around you both.

“Te devoraria

Tal Caetano a Leonardo DiCaprio

É um milagre… tudo que Deus criou pensando em você.”

“Great,” Melissa said, her voice low and warm. “Then it’s a date.”

Before she could say anything more, Ava’s voice boomed from across the room, “Finally! Took you long enough, Schemmenti!”

Melissa shot her a glare, while you laughed softly beside her. “Looks like your friends are rooting for you,” you said, amused.

“Yeah, well,” Melissa grumbled, though her heart felt lighter. “They’ve been giving me a push all night.”

You smiled at her, and for a moment, everything felt right. “Then maybe we should thank them later,” you said. “After our date.”

Melissa’s heart skipped a beat, and she found herself nodding. “Yeah. After.”

And as the night continued, the promise of what could be hung in the air, wrapped in the melody of Djavan’s song, just waiting for its moment to unfold.

”

[number-onekidqueen]

Hey!!!

Could you please do Luke x Goth!fem!reader where they are dating secretly, and Luke finds out she’s getting bullied for how she dresses he decides to confront the bullies and put them in their place 

𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

Luke Castellan x goth!Hades!reader

apologies for the awkward spacing, my laptop is going through some glitch 😭

angsty fluff

warnings: bullying, verbal abuse ig, a few swear words, necrophilia mentioned (NOT A THEME), Stacey is a cliche warning, mentions sexual themes

summary: even if goth isn't his style, luke is happy to put a few haters in their place, if it means making you feel better.

"You don’t like it, do you?”

He shook his head insistently. You laughed.

“No, I think it’s cool, I just don’t listen to this kind of stuff. It’s new to me.”

You and Luke were sat on your bed in Hades cabin, listening to a cassette you had snuck in this summer.

It was actually how your mum had bonded with Hades. She always told the story of how she had been walking home from a shift, listening to her favourite album on her Walkman, completely lost in the bass and cacophony of drums, unaware of her surroundings. Too late she had noticed a drunk driver swerving towards her. And then a man had come out of the gloom, drawing her safely away by clutching her cassette tape and headphone wires. She’d been at a loss for words, and he’d simply walked away.

He’d met her the next night, returning her Walkman with praise for her music choice. And every night later he’d appear somewhere along their journey, and they’d converse about music and fall in love.

That very album was what you were listening to at the moment. And from the look in his face, it certainly wouldn’t be making its way onto Luke's playlist very soon.

“I know it’s loud, I get it,” you reassured, “I guess I just love the…. Passion.” You didn’t see while you were rambling, but the look Luke gave you then could only be described as adoring. He loved when you ranted like this. “These artists, they’re pouring their heart and soul into everything. Every word they scream, and string they play, they’re giving their best performance to do so. I find it so amazing.”

The sad thing was, not many people shared your view on that, which led to the predicament you were in.

Well, it wasn’t just the music. It was probably the way you dressed too.

Regardless of your explanations, people were always going to stare at your black shorts, choker and smoky eyes. They would always whisper ‘goth girl’ as if it was a swear word.

But you never thought they would be quite so mean. Come on, you were one of them, right?

Wrong, apparently.

"Hey, emo, anyone die lately, or just your style sense?"

This particular jab came from Stacey, an Aphrodite girl who just seemed to loathe you, and was your polar opposite with her glowy make up, tight camp tee and cropped shorts.

Usually you ignored them. Sure, some of their comments were mean, and sometimes you could hear them when you looked in the mirror, when you applied your mascara, when you lay in bed in the darkness. But today, you were done. You were so sick of Stacey sniping and sneering at you. You were going to bite back.

"I didn't realise dressing for men was considered style, but if so, then sure."

There was silence as she gasped at your comment, looking at her friends in shock and for support. She scowled then, and chewed her gum obnoxiously in what you guessed to be an excuse to think of a comeback.

"I'm sorry I get a reaction from men. Kinda sad that black and death doesn't turn anyone on, huh y/n? But I'm sure you don't care. Probably have some relationship with a dead body, right?"

There were muffled giggles as all the Aphrodite girls covered their mouths at her retort. She began to smirk at you as you blinked at her in shock, genuinely hurt.

"I don't get you, Stacey. Why would my style have anything to do with that? How do smoky eyes have anything to do with-with necrophilia or whatever you're suggesting? What the fuck?" You spat, and you walked away from her, hating that you had been defeated, that that stupid girl's words made your eyes feel heavy with tears.

Because to her, you'd always be weird. That one goth girl who always wore black no matter the occasion. Who barely got a first glance from boys.

It was then you wanted to scream to them how much you knew Luke cared about you. You wondered how much their opinions would change, if they knew camp's golden boy was sweet about you. But you never did, because you knew they wouldn't believe you, and so it led to tears and frustration, locking yourself inside your cabin and crying until your face was a runny, smudged mess.

You'd settled yourself against the wall for around half an hour, your hands in your hair as you bathed in misery and insecurity when you heard the first round of insistent knocks and urgent calling of your name. It was him.

Sniffling and wiping your eyes, you got to your feet and let him in, praying you looked better than you felt. His face fell as the door opened and he spotted your saddened features, so you guessed you didn't. Luke stepped in, shutting the door behind him, and immediately brushing the tears from your face with his thumbs, his eyes sad.

"Who did this to you?" he demanded, as he drew you into a hug.

"It was just some-some girls, don't worry, they always do it, I'm just-y'know, being dramatic," you let out a broken laugh into his shoulder and more tears fell, "I guess I should expect it."

"No you shouldn't. They shouldn't torment you regularly just because you dress different to them." He pulled away, his eyes furious now, the cocoa centres dangerously dark, "What the hell is wrong with them?! Tell me their names, y/n, their names."

"No, it's fine, you-you don't need to talk to them, it's-"

"Well, I'm going to either way, so you can tell me, or I'll just find it out."

"I-I-" you stuttered, your body shuddering as a wave of tears swept through you once again, "it was that group of Aphrodite girls, with like Stacey and-"

You buried yourself in his arms, and he squeezed you tight, fingers brushing gently through your hair. "You know you're so much better than them, right?" he murmured warmly, "you're smarter, you're prettier-"

"No, I'm not-"

"Yes, you are, and you should know it, because you are, y/n. You're worth a million of them." Luke's words were firm, and the way he looked at you then, resolute and as if he believed his phrase with every particle of his being made you soften. Made you almost believe him.

"I'm gonna come back with some soda, and we can chill out and listen to your tape, yeah? How's that sound?"

"Amazing," you said, with a watery smile.

"Great, well I'll go now, so I can be back soon," and he sent you a faint-inducing grin as he inched out of your arms that made you lose track of a few sentences.

"Luke," you protested, when you finally got your tongue under control, "no, you-you don't have to this, right? You realise you don't have to do this? It's ok, it's-"

"Yeah, of course," he responded calmly, that same grin on his face as he reached for the door, "I don't know where you think I'm going. I'm just off to get some soda."

And do some other things along the way.

He stormed over to the Aphrodite cabin, knocking rapidly before throwing the door open. Stacey was there, sat on the bed humming a pop song and fixing her hair in her hand mirror, frozen in place as she watched him barge in and shut the door. Her surprise smoothly transitioned into seduction, as was typical with a lot of Aphrodite girls.

"Someone wanted to see me," she cooed, sending him a flirty smile.

Oh yes he did indeed.

"So, I heard about some things with you and y/n,"

"Oh, yeah, that," Stacey waved the words away as if they were a pesky fly, resting on her elbows as she looked up at him with doe eyes, "she looked like a horror movie, Luke. Like, you know how much I care about the kids! They might get scared."

"Yeah, yeah sure, Stacey, I'm sure those were your intentions."

She frowned at that, her glossy lips and thin brows crinkled.

"Why are you even standing up for her anyway? It's not like she's nice, and she's so weird, like she's probably not even straight, like I've heard she has relationships with bats and graves and shit."

"And where did you hear that, Stacey?" He asked coldly, anger rising through him.

She quickly noted the negative emotions surfacing in his tone, and cocked her head. "I don't know, like just around the place. Look, I don't know why you care about this so much? I doubt she has a soul."

"Oh, she does, Stacey. And her soul is much more beautiful and amazing than yours will ever be," he sucked a breath in, trying to restrain his utter rage, "and I want you to never talk to my girlfriend like that again."

"Y-your-your girlfriend?" She spluttered, absolutely shell-shocked.

"Yeah, my girlfriend."

"But-what-?"

"She's the best girl at camp, so I don't know why you say all that stupid stuff about her. Anyway, I need to go now, Stacey, but I think you got the message, yeah?"

She nodded dumbly, her eyes still wide, and Luke smirked as he left the suffocatingly rose-smelling cabin and went into the open air.

With that done, he needed two ice-cold cans of soda.

[peterporkerfan]

sketchbook [earth 1610!miles morales x latina!reader]

word count: 1.2k

warnings: fluff, light cursing, kissing, relationship insecurities, lots of spanglish

a/n: my first language is spanish, so nothing here is google translated i promise 💀

It was a hot June afternoon, and the air was sizzling all over the city.

You and Miles laid on his bed, side by side, with his arm draped around your shoulder. The AC was on full blast, and Miles’ favorite album sounded all around the room. You were both humming and singing along contently. You looked up at him smiling every once in a while, and he’d look back, smiling even wider.

“Baby, do you hear this? No one does it like Kendrick. His music is on a whole ‘nother level.” He smiled back down at you, looking at you with sheer adoration.“You know, Gwen and I…we’d listen to him all the time when she’d swing by. I love his music.”

“Remember when your favorite rapper was Post Malone?” You joked, and he looked away awkwardly.

“Yeah…we don’t—we don’t talk about that.”

You laughed and you brought your hands to his cheeks, bringing him closer and kissing him deeply. He smiled into the kiss, bringing his hands to your waist and pulling you towards him until you were laying on top of him.

You pull away from the kiss, and look down at Miles while you smile.

“I’ve never met anyone like you, Miles. Eres otra cosa.”

Miles smiled back at you, feeling so lucky to have someone like you in his life. “Just wait until you meet Peter, Hobie, or Gwen…especially Gwen. She’s the coolest person ever. You two would get along really well.” Miles rambled.

“I’m sure we would.” You smiled back at your boyfriend, knowing how much he cared about his friends.

“Miles, mijo! Baja un momentito. I need your help with something!” Mrs. Morales shouted from downstairs.

“Coming, Ma!” Miles shouted back, turning his head in the direction of the opened door.

“A mi tú no me grites!”

Miles sighed, “I’ll be back ya mismo”

“I’ll be right here” You smiled at him. Miles smiled back and walked out, leaving you alone in his room.

When Miles shut the door, you stood up from your position, sitting with your legs crossed on the edge of the twin sized bed. You took in his room, and how much it reminded you of him. His collectible figurines, countless posters of his favorite rappers and albums, and the constant clutter on his floor. You spotted his sketchbook on the ground right in front of you, and felt a sudden urge to pick it up.

Miles was generally open about most things with you, however he kept his drawings to himself. You never questioned it as maybe he just thought they were embarrassing or too personal. You slowly picked up the book and started flipping through its pages. At first you were met with images of his uncle, his suit, and the streets of Brooklyn. You smiled faintly as you flipped through, appreciating how utterly talented your boyfriend was. However, you were suddenly met with countless images of someone whose name you’d never forget: Gwen.

Miles’ face would always light up when he mentioned Gwen. You never thought much of it, however, there were so many drawings of her in his sketchbook, which must’ve taken hours to make, with every little detail about her captured on the paper. You began to feel an unfamiliar pain take over you, and you put the sketchbook down where you got it from. God, she was gorgeous. And cool. Of course Miles liked her…I mean who wouldn’t? The way he described her made her seem so…captivating. Before the thought took over you completely, Miles walked into the room again, holding a large laundry basket and setting it down besides his bed. You tried to change your expression, looking up at your boyfriend like you usually would.

“That’s a lot of clothes to sort through. Que mierda.” Miles sighed.

“You need any help?”

“Yeah, actually. That’d be pretty good.”

“Cual es la palabra mágica?” You teased, batting your eyes at him playfully.

Miles narrowed his eyes at you, acting playfully annoyed. “Please?”

You walked towards him and gave him a kiss on the cheek, and leaned down to sort through the clothes in the basket.

“I think you might’ve outgrown this sweater a while ago.” You held it out so Miles could see. It was an orange cardigan, with patches embroidered into it.

“Haha, very funny, Y/N. That’s Gwen’s. She left it here last time que visitó.”

“Y tú—you wear it?” You asked, feeling the uneasiness you felt before come rushing back.

“Course not. Mami probably threw it in the laundry basket sorting through my room at some point.”

“Oh.”

“It’s nice to have something of her’s though. Just to remember her by.”

Some time went by and you continued to fold clothes while a question bubbled inside you. Finally, after a long silence, you asked.

“Miles, tú—do you still…”

“Do I still what, mi amor?”

“Have feelings for…”

Miles furrowed his brows. “For…Gwen?”

“I mean, you talk about her so much and I didn’t mean to violate your privacy or anything but I may or may not have looked through your sketchbook filled with drawings of her. And don’t get me wrong the drawings are really good pero—”

Miles interrupted your senseless ramble. “Mi amor…”

“Qué?”

“You don’t seriously think that I like her, right?”

“Well, I don’t know. I mean I wouldn’t blame you for it, you know. You did once before, you could again but—“

“Baby…those drawings are old, did you go through the whole thing?”

“No, not really. I guess I thought I’d seen…enough.”

Miles picked up the sketchbook off the ground and flipped through it. He handed it to you and looked at you with adoration as he did so (unbeknownst to you, as you were staring down at your shoes with shame). You flipped the page from a drawing of Gwen and saw it: countless drawings of you. All done when you thought he wasn’t looking. A drawing of you looking at the board in math class, sitting across the room from Miles (only because the teacher thought you two were “too chatty” when you sat together). A drawing of you sitting on your windowsill with headphones on, drowning out the world around you. A drawing of you walking towards Miles, smiling at him. The drawings continued for countless pages, and your eyes began to water as you looked back up at Miles.

“You did all these…de mi?”

“Claro, you’re my girl. Why would I not?” Miles’ brows furrowed as he looked towards you.

“Dios mio, I’m so sorry for thinking you liked her. Soy tan estupida a veces.”

“Nah, don’t be, and you’re not. Yo soy el que es medio pendejo every once in a while. That’s on me.” Miles laughed.

“Y Miles, these drawings are really good. Why hadn’t you shown me?”

“I thought you wouldn’t—ay, no se. I thought you’d think they were stupid or something, I guess.” Miles mumbled, looking down at his shoes.

“Stupid? Miles, these are…you’re crazy talented. Are you kidding me?”

“Thanks…” Miles blushed as he smiled back at you faintly.

“Alright, well… enough of this sappy shit. Where were we?”

“Laundry.” Said Miles.

“Right, laundry.”

“Do we reeeeally want to do the laundry though?” Miles asked, hoping you’d just say no.

“Fuck no.” You laughed.

“Great!” You laughed as Miles webbed you back to were you were before, laying side by side on his bed.

You looked up at him. “Can I choose the music now?”

“Fine, baby. Play whatever you want.”

You unlocked his phone and searched for a Spanish pop song you knew Miles hated.

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Seriously…”

“Miles, si no es así te vas a convertir en un gringo. Con esa B en español, imagínate…”

“Alright, alright…lo que tu digas, mami.” He laughed, kissing the top of your head.

As the song played and you sung along to each word, Miles became sure of one thing:

He’d never let you go.

send me requests for whatever (no smut and only latina or white/race not specified reader please)!! i’ll write mainly for miles morales but i’ll take requests for anyone else spiderverse/spiderman!!

[hannahssimblr]

“Granny?” Ivy cries. “I hate granny.”

“You’re not supposed to hate your grandmother,” I point out as I unwind the vacuum cord. “Even if she is… the way that she is.”

“I’m telling the truth.”

“Alright, well maybe don’t tell the truth in front of mom and dad.”

“Ugh! For how long?”

“I don’t know, a few hours. Five, maybe.”

“Five hours?” 

“Bring a book.” I find a socket behind a potted plant and fumble with the plug. “Or you can have my iPod. Actually, you can have and keep it.”

“Okay, but whenever we put on music at her house, she complains and says it’s the devil’s.”

“Not all music, just the Rolling Stones.” I point out. “Actually, Mick Jagger. She said he was the devil personified, remember?” I think she came up with that line in the sixties, thought it was poignant, and hasn't stopped saying it for the rest of her life. I don’t even listen to the Rolling Stones. She just assumes all my music must be theirs, because she hates it with the same vigour as she did Beggar’s Banquet. 

“‘Oh, what are you reading, Ivy? Something by some old cowboy?’” Ivy says in this plummy, pretty spot-on impression of Granny Hyland, who also likes to call everyone she doesn’t like a cowboy, for reasons I could never grasp. That includes me, of course, that time I shaved my head.

“‘I’d prefer that children didn’t speak at the dinner table, and that they ate all of their disgusting, soggy peas and carrots that I’ve put no salt on. And don't scrape your cutlery on my ugly plates!’” Ivy goes on. A direct quote, probably. 

I swear I can see Granny now, sitting there, all thin and powdery in her musty, Glasnevin Victorian that one of us is one day cursed to inherit. She’s always seemed so old, even though she’s still only in the first half of her sixties. How she would sit there at the table, gripping her knife and fork over Christmas dinner with those weird, rheumatic hands and jawing on about manners, she was like a turn of the century relic. 

My decision to throw a party tonight has condemned my sister to an evening of that, and for that, I’m guilty. 

Ivy throws herself onto the settee, her hair spilling over the floor. 

“Move your rat tails or I’ll suck them up in the hoover,” I mutter.

“Why are you hoovering? Irene does that for us.”

I sigh. “I guess I’m the cleaner today.”

“Why?”

“Because mom and dad said so.”

She frowns. “Why would they say that? If they want the house cleaned, they would just phone her to come and do it.”

“Yeah, I know, but they’re teaching me a lesson.”

“A lesson about what?”

“I don’t know, hoovering, I suppose. Move.” I scoop her hair out of the way, then hit the wrong button on the hoover. The cord retracts and tightens. 

Ivy sits up. “Who’s coming to your party? Anyone cool?”

“Define ‘cool’.”

She shrugs. She doesn’t really know what cool is in an Irish way, only in that glossy, American tween show way she knows from watching TV at her friend Ella’s house. I’ve wanted to tell her nicely that if those smiley kids wearing belts on top of their t-shirts from her beloved Camp Rock went to school here, they’d have the contents of the canteen bins chucked over them while inside the bathroom stalls, but they’re cool to her, so I just let her enjoy it before she realises. 

“It’s just gonna be some people from school, that’s all.”

“What about your friends from summer?”

I laugh awkwardly. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll ask them. They probably won’t come.”

“Why?”

“Because they live far away, and it’s short notice.”

“You should ask. You’re going away tomorrow. Maybe they’d come because it’s the last chance to see you.”

“It won’t be the last chance. I’ll be back.”

“Yeah, at Christmas,” she says, as though Christmas is the year 2036. 

“Uh, yeah. Christmas. It’s not that long.”

“It is! It’s ages away! And also-”

“Ivy! I’m hoovering now. It’ll drown you out even if you keep talking.” With my foot, I whack the button, the correct one this time, and the machine roars to life. Ivy yaps on, but I just move my hand like a sock puppet. “I can’t hear you!”

She sticks out her tongue, and I stick out mine, but when she’s turned away and become interested in a bird out hopping around on the patio furniture, I pull my phone from my pocket and tap out a hasty message. 

Having a goodbye thing at my house. Will you come? 

It’s several minutes before Evie replies, and by then, I already assume that she won’t, in that kind of sad, desperate way, familiar to me only from my pubescent MSN days. By the time my phone vibrates, I jump. 

Okay, what time? 

I type back:

Seven. Look, I know you’re in Offaly, obviously, so you’re welcome to stay if you need to. There’s a few people crashing here. 

She won’t come. She definitely won’t come. Especially not if she has to sleep in my house. Who am I kidding? There’s all that stuff about her strict mother, and being around boys, and-

Ping.

Yeah, sounds cool. I’ll be there. 

Oh. 

Cool. See you later.

Beginning // Prev // Next

Corresponding LG Chapter

[venture-through-the-mist]

Thoughts on The Lotus Eaters

As I’m sure is obvious, this will be discussing the Lotus Eaters quest in detail, so if you haven’t played it yet, I’d suggest skipping this post! I don’t want to spoil it for anyone (because even though it’s a short quest, I still think it benefits from being played with no prior knowledge of what it entails), so the full post will be below the cut.

Alright, I have SO many thoughts, so I’m going to try and keep this somewhat concise…ish. This is mostly just a bunch of rambles, so I apologize for any grammatical errors or if it’s hard to understand. I just kinda…wrote what came to my mind.

First off,

The Music: I briefly mentioned this in another post, but holy shit the music for this update is amazing. I mean, we all knew it would be, Warframe has a tendency to put out absolutely awesome songs, but oh my god. We get two more versions of what is one of my favorite songs in the game. The loading screen version of ‘This is What You Are’ has to be, by far, one of my favorite things I’ve heard from this game. I love the feel to it, like a combination of ‘old’ Warframe with ‘new’, 1999-era Warframe. I’ve had it playing on repeat almost all day because it’s so good.

Now, for the version of ‘This is What You Are’ that we actually get during the quest, the one that Lotus is singing to herself. I, admittedly, didn’t pay too much attention to it when I was actually playing the quest, at least not beyond “omg Lotus is singing, that’s awesome” (I was just too excited about the actual quest lol). However, when I listened to it again, I was fascinated by the subtle differences in how this version sounds compared to the ‘normal’ version of the song, or even to the new version in the loading screen. The singing is a lot more staccato, and the notes don’t flow into each other in the ways they normally would. It’s almost as if Lotus is having to concentrate more on what comes next (at least, that’s my interpretation), which makes sense given that we know that she’s singing in order to drown out the Indifference’s voice. Her singing also sounds a little sad, or maybe just lonely, to me. Her mind is filled with the Indifference trying to influence her, and she’s taken it upon herself to be a barrier (or as she says it, a “distraction”) between It and the Tenno. She’s secluded herself (again), and her tone of voice seems to reflect that.

Also, after the quest, if you go and talk to Daughter/Kaelli in the Necralisk, ‘Party of Your Lifetime’ plays now, instead of whatever song was playing before. I just think that’s neat (and also brings in some interesting ideas for 1999…what did our Drifter do?).

Moving on…

The Story: I had absolutely zero idea where the story was going to go from this update, but I was a bit worried about how they’d go about locking us into playing as the Drifter for 1999, since — although I 1000% agree with why the Drifter is definitely going to be the one going back in time — I’m definitely someone who would rather play as my Operator for my own lore reasons (and I can’t think of a reason that my Operator would let the Drifter do this instead of her). I was actually wondering if they’d actually lock us into the Drifter without giving us a choice, or if they just wouldn’t give us the option to do the romance stuff if we chose Operator (for obvious reasons…bc yk, they’re a child). But, I really enjoy the route they went down, how Lotus knows that the Drifter has to be the one this time, because if the Operator does, that might just be giving the Indifference exactly what it wants. She’s, once again, protecting her kids in the way she knows how, by taking them out of the conflict in any way she can.

But, I’m getting a bit ahead of myself, so let’s backtrack a bit and talk about how cool it is that we see the Operator and the Drifter interacting with Lotus at the same time. I may have missed something in the quests leading up to that, or this might just be something attributed to the Man in the Wall’s hijinks, or…something, but I thought that they couldn’t be in the same place at the same time/in the same ‘reality’. So, I was quite surprised (pleasantly, ofc) to see both of them. I really love the difference in the dialogue options when we initially talk to Lotus. The Operator is torn between wondering if Lotus is alright, and also being super worried about what the hell the noise is, in a way that makes me think they definitely suspect that the Indifference is meddling with things again (which makes sense, given that they’re actively in the Sanctum). Honestly, the Operator was probably waiting for something like this to happen. They know, or at least suspect, that Lotus saw the Man in the Wall after the battle with Ballas, it was only a matter of time before that became important. The Drifter, on the other hand, is more concerned with Lotus herself, warning her to be careful, reassuring her, but also wondering what she means by “It’s you”. Maybe the Drifter doesn’t really know the extent of the effects that the Indifference has on the System, maybe the Operator is just trying to protect Lotus in the only way they know how…get the perceived danger away from her first, ask questions later (I’ve noticed from their dialogue throughout the game that the Operator tends to have a bit of a sharper temper than the Drifter does…perhaps bc they’re younger). Either way, it’s nice that they have different responses to seeing Lotus and hearing the noise.

I chose the “Are you okay” and “What do you mean, ‘it’s you’?” dialogue options, and I absolutely loved that my Operator’s line was “This isn’t just a bad memory, it is? This is new”. This acknowledges, at least in my interpretation, that Lotus does have lingering emotions from everything that’s happened in the past (Ballas/The New War, Hunhow, etc). Once again, Warframe surprises me by remembering to make the trauma that a character has gone through actually relevant to the story even after we’ve dealt with the source of the problem. I probably shouldn’t be surprised at this, but most video games I’ve seen don’t tend to do that. Usually characters are…somewhat fine after experiencing something horrific, so it’s refreshing to see a different (more realistic, imo) take on it. This isn’t even the only time we see this in this quest/afterwards. Lotus outright confirms it herself (“I will not let it devour one instant of my pain. Not even Ballas. Not even the Jade Light.”), and in doing so, is also showing us how she’s dealt with the events of the prior storylines. She’s gone through a series of extremely traumatic events, and she still has those painful memories, but she’s not going to succumb to the Indifference, even if It promises to take that away. She’s been hurt, yes, but she is healing, and she’s finally in a place where she can actually do so as herself. That doesn’t mean it’s easy for her to ignore the voice that’s calling to her —the voice that only she can hear— but she’s determined to. I’m curious if the voice-lines after the quest are different if a player had chosen Margulis or Natah instead of Lotus after the New War, though.

I find it very interesting that Lotus calls the Drifter ‘my champion’. I just really enjoy the fact that she definitively sees the Operator and the Drifter as two separate people, as opposed to ‘her child’, and ‘her child but older’, because I feel like that fact could have certainly been a cause of a bit of discomfort and a learning curve for both her and the Drifter after the New War.

Now, onto the 1999 portion of the quest, which, even as short as it was, was quite interesting. It was really weird to be in the Mall again and not hear ‘Party of Your Lifetime’ playing or see other Tenno dancing around the stage (like how it was during TennoCon). It was quite eery, and I love it. Also, we got to see Kalymos again, so that’s a plus.

All in all, this quest answered a lot of my questions about how the game is going to transition to 1999 (and even answered questions that I didn’t know I had). However, I am slightly (read: very) concerned at the same time, mainly because of the line with Lotus saying “If I become something you do not recognize, do not mourn”. I feel like that’s potentially foreshadowing something…They don’t usually put lines like that in without reason. Maybe I’m just reading too far into that…but I suppose we’ll see when 1999 comes out.

Anywho, another thing that I wasn’t expecting but am really glad that we got was the continued acknowledgement of Lotus/Natah/Margulis being a system. This happened not once, but twice (to my knowledge), and I think it’s really great that they didn’t just disregard the whole “I am not one” thing from The New War after we made our choice between the three of them. It’s really nice to see that that wasn’t just a one-off line, especially as we continue to get more and more moments where the game references them.

This is already way longer than it probably should be, but what can I say? I like well-written characters, and this game has so many of them. I’ve definitely forgotten some things that I’d wanted to put in this post, but ah well.