#at least i didn’t walk all the way up and sit outside the room wondering where everyone was this time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rothpie · 5 days ago

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❝FIDELITY❞ |part15

MASTERLIST -`✮´- Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank

Summary: Kook!Reader’s world is upended by betrayal, and her only way forward might lie with the most unlikely person—JJ Maybank. But as they build a new life together, old flames and past mistakes refuse to stay buried.

Warnings: Arguing. (tell me if I should add more I’m really bad at this.)

Selly's note: I'm sorry. Pls don't hate me💗

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Waiting was hard. Especially when someone told you they’d come. Every knock on the door had you looking up. Every single one, you thought it was them.

After all, a promise had been made—to be there.

But when they didn’t show, the disappointment stung. If you weren’t going to come, why say you would? Why give hope?

If they’d said they were leaving, fine. It would hurt, but at least you’d know. But when someone says they’ll come, you wait. Even if they don’t say when, you wait.

And then they don’t show.

Their messed-up life, their thoughts, their world—so damn important that they can’t even pick up the phone to say, “I’m okay.” They just leave. Just like that. Like you meant nothing. Like you were a stranger.

Should you be worried or just pissed? You weren’t even sure. Your mind kept running through scenarios, wondering if something happened. Maybe that’s why you didn’t call. But deep down, you knew that wasn’t it.

They just didn’t.

If they wanted to, they would have.

And knowing that hurt the most.

Lily and JJ. That was everything. Your world revolved around them. You spent every day together. And now, he was just… gone. Like he hadn’t been by your side for years. Like you had never been in his life.

There was so much anger bubbling inside you that even stepping outside for air didn’t help. Even when Liliana came to talk about JJ, you struggled to keep your answers short. Every time she asked where he was, you had to bite your tongue to keep from saying, “rotting in hell.”

Especially—especially when he left you alone at a time when maybe, just maybe, you were starting to feel something for him. Was no man reliable? The first chance he got, at the first sign of trouble, he ran. If you couldn’t even trust JJ, then who the hell was left?

Screw love. He was your best friend.

And sometimes—friendships mattered more than feelings. You would’ve pushed everything else aside just to keep him in your life.

If you couldn’t trust him, then who else was left?

You had called Rafe a coward before, but wasn’t this the same damn thing?

The first chance he got, JJ was gone. No one knew where he was. Three days. And nothing. You didn’t even know if he was coming back.

At night, after Liliana fell asleep, you’d lie awake. You’d cry, or you’d just stare at the ceiling, torn between waiting up for JJ and giving up on him entirely.

But you waited. Like an idiot, you sat in the living room, waiting for him to walk through the door. How much lower could you sink? Sitting there, waiting for a guy who promised to come and never did. A guy who swore he’d always keep you safe but ran at the first real fight.

And god, the worst part was, you had feelings for him.

Your best friend.

You pulled a pillow into your lap, hugging it close as your eyes stayed fixed on the TV screen. You weren’t even processing anything. Your mind was a mess.

As if all this wasn’t enough, Rafe was still waiting for your answer. As if you had one.

It wasn’t easy. This wasn’t something you could figure out in just a couple of days. You had five years of raising Liliana without him. And before that, you had years of being with him. How were you supposed to weigh nearly seven years of your life in just three days?

But still, you had to decide before leaving for Asheville.

You squeezed your eyes shut. Everything was too much. You hated how everything was piling up at once. Without thinking, you grabbed your phone. Even though you were pissed at JJ, making a decision about Liliana on your own felt wrong.

Your fingers found Rafe’s number instead. You hesitated for a second, taking a deep breath. Then, before you could overthink it, you hit call.

You should’ve just stayed in Asheville.

The phone barely rang before it was answered. Your brows shot up. You hadn’t expected him to pick up that fast. Taking another deep breath, you opened your mouth to speak, but Rafe beat you to it. His voice was slightly breathless.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” Your voice was flat, the exact opposite of his. You weren’t in the mood to sound happy, let alone pretend you were fine. You just wanted to get this over with, to cross one thing off your list of a million things weighing you down.

“How are you?” Even though you were the one who called, Rafe took the lead in the conversation. And that felt… strange. He wasn’t the same guy he used to be—you could tell. But every time he spoke, you could still picture the version of him you once knew.

Like he was someone else entirely.

And you weren’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

You inhaled deeply, trying to find your voice. When you finally spoke, you hoped it sounded somewhat normal. “I’m fine.”

If you had been face-to-face, even a stranger would’ve known that was a lie. When silence settled between the two of you. You hated phone calls. Especially when you didn’t know how to start them.

Realizing you hadn’t even asked how he was, you spoke first. “You?”

“I’m… good, I guess. What are you doing?” Rafe’s voice was quieter now. He wasn’t as excited as when he first picked up—he sounded calmer. His breathing had slowed. Maybe he’d picked up on the exhaustion in your voice. You didn’t know.

After all, Rafe wasn’t someone you knew anymore, and you couldn’t begin to guess what was going through his head.

Your eyes wandered around the room. Liliana’s toys were scattered in a few places, but the house was mostly tidy. You sighed. “I’m at ho—”

Rafe cut you off, quick and eager. “Is Liliana with you?” His previous excitement was back, and you could tell from his voice that he was smiling.

You pulled your legs up onto the couch, shaking your head even though he couldn’t see you. “No… No—she’s asleep.”

“Oh… Got it.”

“Great.” You replied dryly. The conversation hit another dead end, and for a moment, you almost forgot why you had even called. The silence stretched between you two, tense and uncomfortable, but it didn’t last long before Rafe spoke again.

“Do you remember Topper—Of course, you remember Topper. Shit… Well… He’s having a birthday party. June 29th, I think. If you wanted to come—”

You didn’t need to hear the rest. You were only curious about how he’d finish the sentence.

“No.”

The two of you weren’t close. You and Topper, especially, were never close. Being there wouldn’t just be weird—it would be unbearable. Besides, you weren’t exactly in the mood for parties or loud places anymore. At least not right now.

Rafe exhaled. “Okay.” There was no disappointment in his voice, just acceptance. And you were relieved. You weren’t friends. You weren’t going to pretend to be by showing up at some party.

“And yes, I remember him. Four years isn’t that long to forget someone.” You ran a hand over your face. You knew he was just stretching the conversation, but you weren’t in the mood.

“Yeah… it’s not.” Rafe went quiet. You had a feeling you knew what—or who—he was thinking about. So, you stayed quiet.

You weren’t old friends reconnecting after years apart, and you never would be. That’s why you had no interest in casual conversations. You wanted this to be short and to the point, yet somehow, both of you kept dragging it out.

“So… I don’t want to pressure you, but have you thought about what we talked about? Or was this just… kind of your way of questioning if I even deserve it?”

At his words, you sat up straighter on the couch. Did he deserve it? You had no idea. You hoped he did—if there was any chance of him being in Liliana’s life.

“That’s why I called you. I—I know I said I’d think about it, but Rafe—Jeez, I don’t trust you.” You didn’t really trust anyone these days, but Rafe was at the top of that list. He didn’t just hurt you. He shattered you. And now, years later, he wanted to come back, claiming regret?

It was disgusting.

“I get it.” His voice was thick, almost strained. Maybe the old you would’ve felt bad for him. But he wasn’t there when you needed him.

“No matter how much I try to be objective, at the end of the day, the person I’m gambling on here is my daughter.” And when it came to protecting her, there wasn’t a line you wouldn’t cross. Even if it meant running to the ends of the earth.

Rafe said nothing.

“I don’t want to say no. I don’t want to take that right away from Liliana. But I’m not saying yes either. I just… I don’t know if it’s the right thing.”

“I completely understand. I—I’ll wait as long as you need. Whenever you decide to let me see her—if you ever do—I just… I don’t want you to think I’m doing this to get close to you. Shit, I suck at these kinds of conversations. I screwed everything up. Not just us—my whole life. And I don’t want to keep living like that. If there’s even a small chance that I can be better, I want to take it.”

You wanted to believe him. You really did. But it was hard. Especially because you knew him—who he used to be.

It felt like the hardest decision you’d ever have to make. Because this wasn’t about you. It was about Liliana. The moment you introduced them, it would be over. She’d know her father was back. She’d want to see him.

The words left your mouth before you could stop them. “I’ll think about it.”

You weren’t ready to give him a straight answer. Maybe you never would be. But you would think about it.

“And I’m grateful for that.” The second those words left his lips, it felt like a punch to your stomach. You leaned back into the couch, sinking into the cushions, taking a deep breath.

You didn’t want words of affection from him. You didn’t want soft reassurances.

He would be in Liliana’s life. Not yours. And he needed to understand that. If he already did, then he needed to remember it.

“I have to go.” You didn’t want to say goodbye. You weren’t friends. You never would be.

“Okay,” Rafe said.

“Okay.” You echoed him.

“Take care.” Those were his last words before you ended the call.

You weren’t friends.

You didn’t want his thoughts on your life. Not even one.

This was only for Liliana. That was the only reason you spoke to Rafe. The only reason you called.

“Are you done?”

The sudden voice snapped you back to reality. Your eyes flew open, and your body reacted faster than your mind, making you jolt upright. One hand clutched your chest as you turned toward the doorway.

JJ was standing there, his expression unreadable, a not-so-friendly smirk tugging at his lips. He dropped the grocery bag in his hand onto the floor, shaking his head.

Did he really have the nerve to stand there and smile at you like nothing happened? Had he lost his mind?

"I asked you a question, you know? Are you guys done talking?" JJ tossed his keys onto the couch. There was almost a smirk on his lips, but it was clear it wasn’t out of happiness—just pure mockery. As if he had any right to ask you anything.

You wanted to yell at him, but you held back, keeping your composure. You weren’t going to drag this out any longer. He was already dense enough at the moment; you didn’t need word games. "Yeah. We're done."

JJ let out a dry chuckle, staying right where he was instead of stepping closer. "What’d you tell him—actually, wait. Never mind. Forget it. I— I just wanna drop this. Do whatever you want, just don’t tell me about it."

Your eyes squeezed shut. One hand went to your forehead, the other lifted as if you were trying to stop yourself from doing something reckless. You had no idea what the hell had gotten into JJ lately, but you wanted to rip it out of him and shove it so far up his ass that he’d finally cut this crap. "Stop doing that."

"I'm literally not doing anything," JJ said, laughing right after. But there wasn’t a single trace of amusement in his voice.

"I'm done playing games." You forced yourself to stay calm. He was the one who walked out of this house and didn’t come back for three days. And now, the moment he steps back inside, he thinks he’s the one who gets to act like this?

JJ started moving toward the couch, pulling off his jacket as he went. "Whatever you say." He tossed the jacket onto the couch and leaned back, making himself comfortable. You clenched your fists, trying to keep yourself together.

Liliana was upstairs, and yelling was the last thing you needed to do. You were not about to fight with JJ in front of her. Ever.

You took a deep breath, swallowing down everything bubbling up inside you. Just one more try. If you could just get through this one last time, you could leave it all behind. Of course, you had every right to call him out for disappearing for three days, to be pissed at him, but you wanted to fix things, not burn them down. "If you're willing to sit down and talk to me like a normal person, I want to have one last conversation with you. No yelling. No arguing."

JJ stopped. When he turned around a few seconds later, the smug, cocky attitude was gone. His expression had completely changed, his face unreadable. "Why?"

"What do you mean, why? Don’t play dumb, JJ. I’m standing right here, trying to be a rational adult and talk to you." It was exhausting.

JJ took a step forward, his brows slowly pulling together. "Are you seriously gonna make me repeat myself? I told you to do whatever you want. You’re her parent—"

That was it. You shot up from where you were sitting, cutting him off before he could even finish. "One more time—just one more time you say that, and I swear to God, I will punch you in the face." You tried to keep your voice steady, but you already knew you’d failed. Your tone had gone sharp, louder than you intended.

Not that JJ cared if you raised your voice. It wasn’t about him. It was about Liliana. You didn’t want her to hear this.

"What do you want me to say?" JJ shrugged as he walked toward the couch, his tone infuriatingly indifferent. "I said it’s your decision, I’ll respect it. You get what you want."

He was never going to understand. He only heard what he wanted to hear—he wasn’t even listening to what you were saying. "I don’t want to ‘get what I want.’ I want us to sit down and figure this out together."

JJ rolled his eyes so hard you thought they might get stuck. You felt your patience snap. If this were Liliana, everything would already be resolved by now. But JJ? He was worse than her. More stubborn. More childish. "Jesus. I’m telling you, this decision is yours. I won’t interfere. What do you want, another fight like last night?"

You couldn’t take it anymore. "Who even are you?"

You watched as confusion flashed across his face. JJ took a step back. "What?"

You didn’t stop. "Who the hell are you?"

JJ’s eyes narrowed. Clearly, he had no idea what you were getting at. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Tell me what role you see yourself in Liliana’s life."

JJ swallowed. His mouth opened, then closed, and his hand went to his hair like he was trying to figure out what to say. "I— isn’t it obvious?"

You shook your head, fast. You didn’t want to be angry anymore. "No. Clearly, it’s not. We’re not on the same page. Tell me how you see it, and I swear to you, I’ll act accordingly. The way I see your role in her life and the way you see it yourself—they’re not the same."

Whatever answer he gave, you would accept it. If he saw himself as an uncle, then fine, you’d treat him like one. If he saw himself as nothing more than a stranger, so be it. A brother? A parent? Whatever it was, you just needed to know.

"I—" JJ started.

"You what?"

JJ spread his arms, looking at you like this whole thing was ridiculous. "This is bullshit."

"You can’t even say it— You know what, JJ? Maybe, for the first time in five years, you actually disappointed me. And I really wish I didn’t have to feel that."

It was never going to be simple, was it? He just had to fight back, had to shut you out instead of just facing it. You raised Liliana together. And yet—

You didn’t even want to think about it. You tried to shove down the overwhelming urge to just walk away from all of this. JJ was the one person in your life you trusted the most. For the past few years, he had been. And you couldn’t wrap your head around how it was all unraveling in just a few days.

If someone had told you weeks ago that you’d be standing here, questioning everything, you wouldn’t have believed them. You would’ve laughed and said, "JJ would never do that."

But here he was. Doing it. Every word, every move—breaking your heart, little by little. He wasn’t JJ anymore. Not the JJ you knew. He was turning into someone careless. Someone indifferent.

"Feeling’s mutual," JJ’s voice came sharp, dripping with sarcasm. You took a deep breath. You weren’t going to cry. Not in front of him.

It hurt like hell. Not being able to be vulnerable, even with the person you trusted the most. Not even feeling safe enough to cry in front of him.

Your eyebrows lifted, a bitter laugh threatening to spill. "That so?"

"Yeah." JJ didn’t hesitate. Not even for a second. There wasn’t an ounce of doubt in his voice. He knew exactly what he was saying.

The words slipped from your lips before you even had time to think. You didn’t mean to say them out loud. But deep down, you knew they were true.

"Maybe we're starting to hurt each other."

And maybe you were.

You couldn’t help but look at yourself, at the way you felt tangled up in emotions that never seemed to settle. It wasn’t just about what you felt for him—it was also about the way he made you feel.

JJ’s lips twitched slightly before a dry, humorless laugh escaped him.

"Maybe."

You wanted to hate him. You wanted to so badly—except, no, that wasn’t right. It wasn’t hate. It was disappointment, frustration, an ache that sat too heavy in your chest.

"It’s been three days," you said, hating the way your voice wavered. You hated how weak you sounded, how obvious the tremble was.

And this time, you didn’t give him the chance to speak first. Maybe he wouldn’t understand, but for once, you wanted to open yourself up. You wanted to believe that if you said the right words, if you explained it in the right way, something—anything—might change. But you also knew, with a sinking certainty, that it wouldn’t.

Because JJ was too damn stubborn. Too damn stupid. And you already knew exactly how this would go.

You looked at him, searching for some kind of reaction, some acknowledgment that he was hearing you, that he was here with you. But he just stood there, staring at the ground. Silent. Avoiding your eyes.

"You said you’d come," you finally said, voice quieter now, like maybe if you didn’t say it too loud, it wouldn’t hurt as much. "And I—" You swallowed, forcing yourself to look anywhere but at him. "I waited for you all night. Almost all night. I waited for that door to open, but you never showed up."

You could still see it—the way you sat there, staring at the door, holding onto the stupid hope that any second now, he’d walk in. That things would be okay. That maybe, just maybe, this time would be different.

JJ still didn’t lift his head when he spoke. His voice was so flat, so emotionless, that it almost felt like a slap in the face.

"I'm here now."

Your head snapped up, eyes narrowing as you stared at him. Was he serious? Was he actually standing here, looking you in the eye, and acting like that made up for anything?

"You’ve got to be kidding me," you muttered, more to yourself than to him. You searched his face for any sign of regret, any hint of an apology, but he wouldn’t even look at you.

You couldn’t believe this was the same person you had known for years, the person you had spent so much time with. He looked like a stranger.

"Fuck you," you said, voice sharp and bitter as you turned on your heel.

You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t stand here and look at him, not when he was acting like this. Your heart was pounding so hard in your chest it felt like it was trying to break free. It physically hurt.

You stormed toward the stairs, desperate to put distance between the two of you, but his voice stopped you in your tracks.

"You don’t remember anything, do you?"

There was something different in his tone now. It wasn’t flat, wasn’t distant. It was shaking. It was the first real emotion he had shown since he walked through that damn door.

You turned back, brows furrowing. He was still standing there, shoulders slumped, eyes glassy. He dragged a hand through his hair, messing it up even more.

"What?" you asked, confused.

JJ didn’t look up. His hand pressed against his chest as if that alone could steady him.

For a split second, you thought he was in pain. But then the memory of the past three days came rushing back, and all you could feel was frustration. Because if he was hurting, if something had happened, he sure as hell wasn’t letting you in on it.

"I cared about you," he said, voice cracking slightly, as if the words themselves were painful to say. He wasn’t even talking to you at this point. It felt like he was talking to himself, as if he was saying it out loud for the first time.

Something about it made your stomach twist.

You hesitated, then slowly started walking back down the stairs. You didn’t know why. Maybe it was the way his voice sounded. Maybe it was the way he wouldn’t even look at you. Maybe it was the fact that despite everything, despite knowing better, you still wanted to understand him.

"JJ," you said cautiously, searching his face. "What are you talking about? What don’t I remember?"

You hated how lost you sounded.

JJ finally stopped pacing. His body was tense, like he was holding something back, like if he said it too fast or too loud, the words might actually destroy him.

"You really don’t remember," he said, mostly to himself. Then he let out a shaky breath. "For three fucking days, all I did was think about the last five years of my life. About you. About Liliana. About us."

His voice broke slightly on the last word.

"About the life we had together," he finished quietly. "And it fucking destroyed me."

You felt like you had been punched in the stomach.

JJ finally lifted his head. His eyes were red, and for the first time, you couldn’t tell if he was just exhausted or if he was actually about to break right in front of you.

Where the hell had he been for the last three days? What had happened to him?

You had spent so much time being angry, being hurt, that it hadn’t even occurred to you to wonder what he had been doing. Where he had been sleeping. If he had been eating.

And the worst part? The first thing he did when he walked through that door wasn’t explain. It wasn’t apologize. It wasn’t reassure you that he was okay.

No.

He came in, looked you in the eye, and started a fight. Because that was what JJ did. That was all he knew how to do.

You swallowed hard, watching him carefully. His lips parted like he wanted to say something else, but he hesitated. He looked wrecked. His body, his face, everything about him screamed exhaustion.

He needed sleep. Maybe food. Maybe something stronger than that.

But despite everything, despite how much he had pissed you off, how much he had hurt you, you still— God, you still cared. And you hated it.

He wasn’t the same. He wasn’t the JJ you knew just days ago. He was looking at you like you were a stranger, like the past didn’t exist. But even after all that, even after everything he had done, if he asked for your help, you knew you would give it.

Because you were an idiot.

And because if there was even a small chance he would go back to the person you knew—the person you trusted—you would do whatever it took to bring him back.

But you already knew how this would end. JJ had disappeared for three days after your first real fight.

What the hell would he do the next time?

When your eyes finally met his again, he swallowed hard. His Adam’s apple bobbed, his jaw clenched. He took a step toward you, but there was still so much space between you.

"I need you to tell me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Do you remember, or are you just pretending?"

There was almost a glimmer of hope in his eyes—you could see it. But you struggled to understand what he was talking about. He kept asking you about something you didn’t even know. No clues, no hints, just vague words.

How could he expect you to remember something you didn’t even know existed?

“How the hell am I supposed to remember something you never told me?! What am I supposed to remember?”

You stepped down a few more stairs, closing the distance between you. Your stomach was tight, knotted with frustration. You were impatient, and it showed. You were sick of JJ’s cryptic bullshit.

Clear and direct. That’s all you needed.

"You don’t remember."

JJ shook his head. The moment his eyes drifted away from you, something inside you snapped. Whether it was anger or sadness, you weren’t sure, but you had reached your limit.

"JJ. I need you to be straight with me right now. What the hell are you talking about?"

Your voice rose without meaning to, and you shut your eyes tight, pressing your lips together. For just a second—just one second—you had forgotten that Liliana was upstairs.

You turned your head, glancing toward the staircase, checking if she had heard or if she was coming down. But then, you heard a chuckle. Your brows knitted together. You had hoped—really hoped—that it wasn’t what you thought. But of course, it was.

You turned your head sharply, eyes locking onto JJ, and of course, he was the one laughing.

Of course.

You had no idea how much more frustrating this situation could get, but you were about to lose your mind. JJ clearly needed some sleep. Otherwise, you’d be the one knocking him out and forcing him to rest—with a punch.

Taking a deep breath, you kept your gaze fixed on him. JJ was staring at the floor, muttering almost to himself, "I’m an idiot. The biggest one."

The moment you saw him move toward the stairs, your heartbeat picked up. You hated the way your body reacted to him getting closer. Even after the argument.

He couldn’t just walk past you like nothing had happened. You weren’t going to let that slide. Not a chance.

As he moved to step around you, the clean scent of him hit your nose, making your whole body tense. So, he hadn’t been outside all night. He had stayed somewhere. He had fresh clothes on. That feeling deep in your stomach made you shut your eyes tight for a second. You didn’t know where he had been. You didn’t know whose place he had stayed at. And—

Screw it. His life.

You grabbed his arm, gripping it tightly, stopping him in his tracks. He didn’t resist, didn’t try to move past you. It was like he had already accepted whatever was coming. "Tell me what you mean."

JJ didn’t look at you. His gaze stayed on the edge of the stairs. He took a slow, deep breath. "A promise. You made me a promise. That no matter what, we’d always be there for each other. That’s it."

As soon as the words left his mouth, he tried to move again. You stepped back quickly, blocking his path. This time, you were directly in front of him, but his eyes still refused to meet yours. You placed your hand on his chest, stopping him. "No, that’s not it. You’re lying. I know you."

"Let it go."

JJ shifted to move past you again, but you stepped in front of him once more. His chest brushed against yours, and for a second, your breath caught. He was standing on the lower step, yet he still towered over you.

He could push you aside so easily. You both knew it. But he didn’t.

Then, he lifted his head. The moment his eyes locked onto yours, you nearly stumbled. You felt like you should step back. Like you had to. But you didn’t. Not an inch.

"JJ—"

Your words died in your throat when his cold fingers touched your cheek. Your voice vanished. Unlike before, this time, he was looking directly at you. And you were certain—he was reading your mind.

"Let it go," he murmured. "Like you said, all we do is hurt each other now."

Hearing those words from him wasn’t the same as when you had said them. You were angry. But he—he was calm. Like he actually meant it.

The words hit you like a punch to the stomach. Before you could process it, the warmth between you vanished. Your hand, the one that had been resting against his chest, dropped to your side.

JJ averted his gaze, stepping down one more stair. The distance between you suddenly felt like miles. Neither of you looked at each other.

"I’m gonna check on Liliana. I promised her a beach day tomorrow."

You let him walk past you.

As the sun slowly dipped below the horizon, a light breeze swept across the beach. The waves lapped gently against the shore, mingling with the cheerful shrieks of children playing in the sand. JJ dusted off his thin t-shirt as he stood up, rubbing his eyes with his fingers before calling out to the small figure in the distance.

“Lily! Come on! It’s getting dark,” he shouted.

Liliana ignored his voice for a moment, carefully placing the final touches on her sandcastle. Her tiny fingers delicately lined up seashells, completely focused on making her towers perfect. Her face held a sweet kind of determination. But JJ wasn’t in the mood to linger much longer. Something restless and heavy stirred inside him—an unease that had been lingering for days now.

Ever since that fight with you. It had messed him up more than he wanted to admit—left him feeling like he just wanted to disappear.

He didn’t realize how much he had hurt Liliana until he walked into her room that night. The way she ran up to him, eyes wide and desperate, shattered him. And it wasn’t just because of her. It was because of you, too. Because of the second fight.

He never wanted to start a fight, but those stupid feelings—those goddamn feelings—had him all twisted up.

And if there was one thing he couldn’t get out of his head, it was kissing you.

And then you had to go and mention Rafe, like it was nothing. Like it didn’t matter. Like it hadn’t been less than 24 hours since—

Without even realizing it, he had brought Liliana back to the same beach where he had run into you. Only, this time, it wasn’t quiet. It was summer now, and the place was packed. Back then, it had been fall. Every time he glanced to the right, he could hear your voices in his head, replaying that conversation over and over. Every time he looked at the water, all he could see was the way you had laughed, the way you had splashed him, the way you had made him feel—light. Maybe that’s when it started. Maybe that’s when he started falling for you. He wasn’t sure.

There had been other women since then—if you could even call them that. A handful, maybe. Dates that led to kisses that led to nothing. Nothing like what he had felt when he kissed you.

You were water, and he was a man dying of thirst in the desert.

For five years, he had taken other girls out on dates when it should’ve been you. It should’ve been you.

But of course, you were drunk. JJ was just letting his mind run wild. You hadn’t been with anyone for five years, and people had needs—just like everyone else. Maybe, in that moment, he was just the most convenient option. You didn’t even remember. JJ had figured that out real quick. If you had, you would’ve said something. You would’ve reacted.

But you just looked at him with those empty eyes, and it made him feel like absolute shit.

He regretted it. And yet, he was grateful for it. It had pulled something out of him, something raw and real—something that probably should’ve stayed buried.

He regretted it. He shouldn’t have done it. But he still wanted you to remember.

No matter what happened, those moments shouldn’t have been just his to carry alone.

Starting a fight had never been his goal. Swear to God. He just… hadn’t known how else to react. The kiss. You not remembering. And then Rafe. Like a slap in the face.

He hadn’t wanted to leave, either. At least, not deep down. But if he had stayed, things would’ve just gotten worse. More fights.

Was he sorry? Yeah. But was he angrier at himself than anything else? Also yeah.

He ran a hand down his face and straightened up. As he watched Liliana keep working on her sandcastle, ignoring him completely, he took a deep breath. It was getting late. The sooner they got home, the faster she’d be asleep.

He had just stepped forward to get her when a familiar laugh made his stomach drop.

“Oh my God, are my eyes deceiving me?”

JJ tensed. He knew that voice. Turning his head slightly, he saw three figures walking along the beach. He recognized them instantly—Topper, Kelce, and… Rafe.

A punch to the chest would’ve been kinder. His hands curled into fists before he could stop himself. He hadn’t expected to see him again anytime soon.

Kelce, always the cocky asshole, tilted his head with a smirk. “Man, you still alive?” His grin stretched wide, all teeth and mischief.

Topper rolled his eyes, but he was grinning too. “We seriously thought you were dead. Swear to God.”

JJ took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. This was not the kind of run-in he was equipped to deal with right now. He glanced back quickly, checking on Liliana—still playing. Good. He let out a slow exhale.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Rafe muttered, turning to the others with an unimpressed look. His voice made JJ’s skin crawl.

JJ’s gaze flicked over Rafe. He had changed over the years, but not enough. The same arrogant posture, the same cold stare. It took everything in him not to let the anger boiling inside spill over. It wasn’t just personal hate—he hated everything about Rafe. Every. Damn. Thing.

Except for one.

Liliana.

“As you can see, I’m alive,” JJ said, his voice surprisingly steady. Even he wasn’t sure how he managed it.

It wasn’t like he had any real grudge against Topper or Kelce. He just couldn’t stand them. But Rafe?

He loathed his entire existence.

Kelce raised an eyebrow, pointing his beer at JJ with an amused look. “Just outta curiosity—not that I actually give a shit—but where the hell have you been for the last four years? There was a time when people were saying your dad straight-up killed you.”

JJ clenched his jaw but forced a smile. Funny. He never thought he’d be someone people speculated about.

He had just left.

For you.

And he had thought about coming back. So many times. But then he saw Liliana. He saw you. And that made it impossible.

You could’ve handled everything on your own. He knew you would succeed no matter what. But you didn’t have to. You would’ve been fine alone—you would’ve found a way. JJ knew that. But forcing you to do it? That wasn’t really his style. He wasn’t the kind of guy who’d walk away when he could make things easier for you, when he could help.

Right now, his emotions were all over the place. His heart and mind weren’t on the same page. Especially when his brain kept screaming that he was going to lose you and Liliana. He was trying to pull himself together, but the second he got close to you, every logical thought in his body bailed on him.

“So, since I’m standing here, I guess you figured out I didn’t do it. I was busy.” JJ cut straight to the point. There wasn’t much to explain. Especially not to them.

Topper let out a loud laugh, stumbling as he nudged Kelce with his elbow. “I’d bet money he was out being a gigolo. The ladies’ favorite, right?”

JJ rolled his eyes, annoyed. Same old dumb jokes, same pointless jabs… It was like time hadn’t moved at all. Like Topper was still that same kid from five years ago.

How was it possible that while everyone else grew, evolved, added something to themselves, this guy was still stuck in the same childish loop? Had he seriously never done a single thing to improve himself?

“Can we cut the crap?” Rafe muttered, eyes on the waves. He took a step back and sipped his beer.

JJ realized just hearing his voice irritated him, so he quickly ducked down and kept gathering his stuff. The sooner he got out of here, the better. Especially after listening to these three run their mouths.

Kelce grinned and turned to Rafe. “Come on, man! You don’t miss the old days?”

“No. When are we getting on the boat?”

“You’re such a buzzkill,” Kelce grumbled, glancing around. They were still standing in the same damn spot, as if there was nowhere else to be.

JJ sighed, shaking his head. He really couldn’t stand them. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could put up with it. Straightening up, he grabbed his bag. “Yeah, yeah. Seeing you guys was terrible. Have fun.” He moved faster now, desperate to leave.

But then Topper tilted his head, smirking. “Not even gonna say ‘happy birthday,’ Jackson?”

JJ’s fingers clenched around the strap of his bag. He inhaled sharply, then turned to glare at Topper. The old him would’ve fired back with some sarcastic remark. But not now. Now, he just wanted to be done with this. “Happy birthday, Topper.”

Kelce’s grin widened as he stepped closer. “Be honest—you started escorting, didn’t you?”

This time, JJ actually laughed. If he weren’t living with you and Liliana, maybe he would’ve. He could’ve made some serious cash. “As tempting as it is to be a millionaire with this face—no.” He picked up his pace, avoiding eye contact, pretending Rafe wasn’t even there.

“Same old ego—”

And then Liliana’s voice cut through the air. “Why didn’t you look at my tower?!”

JJ’s head snapped up. Her voice hit him like a bolt of lightning, sending a jolt of panic straight through his chest. And then he saw it—Rafe standing right next to her.

His blood ran cold.

Rafe was focused on Liliana, standing just a little behind her, but watching her intently. They shouldn’t be that close. No.

JJ moved instantly, stepping in front of Liliana like a human shield. He reached out and gently placed a hand on her hair, making sure Rafe couldn’t see her clearly. “I did look,” he said quickly, keeping his tone even, trying to act normal. His heart was hammering in his chest. He needed to leave. Now.

But Rafe… Rafe was already staring at her. Of course, he’d seen you and Liliana before. And of course, he remembered her.

Shit.

Liliana turned toward her sandcastle, pointing at it with a tiny hand. “Can we take it home?”

JJ tensed. He cleared his throat and shook his head. Normally, he would’ve found that adorable. But not now. Not in this situation. He couldn’t even react. He just needed to get the hell out of here. “No, sweetheart. It belongs here.”

And there it was—the thing he hated. Talking to Liliana in front of Rafe. Living through this exact moment.

Goddamn it, he should’ve never come to the beach today.

“But—Mommy would love it,” Liliana said.

JJ swallowed against the lump in his throat. He took her hand and pulled her back slightly, reaching for the beach bag. “Mommy will help you build a new one when she gets back. Come on, grab your bag. It’s time to go.”

“A kid?!”

Kelce’s voice rang out, full of shock and amusement. “Damn! Holy shit. So that’s it. That’s why you’ve been so busy? Jesus.”

JJ clenched his jaw. He didn’t want him talking about Liliana. He didn’t want any of them talking about her.

“Shut up, Kelce,” Rafe muttered.

JJ hadn’t meant to, but his eyes flicked to Rafe—and what he saw made his stomach tighten.

Rafe looked… off. His expression wasn’t just shock. It was something deeper. Confusion. Anger. A kind of helpless frustration.

It was all tangled together on his face, like he was trying to make sense of something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. His gaze kept bouncing—from JJ to Liliana, then back to you. Over and over, like he was connecting invisible dots in his head.

Like he was trying to put together a puzzle. His lips parted slightly, his brows furrowed. And then JJ realized.

Rafe didn’t know.

Rafe had only ever thought about you and Liliana. Just the two of you. Not you, Liliana, and JJ. In his mind, it had never included JJ. Because—

You’d never told him.

You never told Rafe that JJ was in your life.

And now, standing there, he was staring at you like a complete idiot, his face frozen in stunned disbelief. JJ felt his chest tighten, anger bubbling up. He wasn’t even sure who he was mad at.

But underneath that anger, there was something else.

A dull, aching kind of hurt.

How could you not tell him?

Were you really coming to JJ for his opinion on Rafe meeting Liliana… but couldn’t even bring yourself to tell him you had someone in your life?

JJ couldn’t help it—he felt hurt. He didn’t know if you were a family, but you had shouted at him that he was Liliana’s parent. You had said it, whether he liked it or not. And yet—despite saying it to him—you hadn’t mentioned him to Rafe.

Fuck.

Rafe took a step forward, and JJ swallowed hard. God, he hated him with every fiber of his being.

“What’s her name?” Rafe’s voice was ice-cold—just like his expression.

JJ’s fist clenched. He pulled Liliana a little closer as he spoke. “None of your damn business.”

But Rafe stepped toward the little girl. “What’s your name?” His voice was steadier this time, more certain. He already knew—he had figured it out—but he needed to hear it. He needed confirmation, and JJ knew that all too well.

Still—no matter how much he despised Rafe, he wasn’t going to lose it in front of Liliana.

The second Rafe moved in, JJ dropped the beach bag and stepped right in front of him. Their chests nearly collided, the tension between them sharp enough to cut through the air.

Rafe didn’t take his eyes off Liliana.

JJ, on the other hand, stared straight at him.

Kelce and Topper immediately went on high alert. Topper even grabbed Rafe’s arm, giving it a small tug—but Rafe didn’t budge. Not even an inch.

“Back the fuck off,” JJ’s voice was lethal.

When it came to Liliana, he wouldn’t hesitate. Not for a second.

Liliana, sensing that someone was talking to her, tilted her head up and answered sweetly, “Liliana! But my family calls me Lily.”

JJ squeezed his eyes shut for a second. He didn’t want to do this in front of her. Fighting in front of Liliana wasn’t an option.

With a deep breath, he took a step back.

“What the hell are you doing, man?” Kelce yanked Rafe’s arm harder this time, his face full of genuine confusion.

Rafe staggered slightly, running a hand through his hair.

He didn’t know what to do.

His eyes kept darting between JJ and Liliana, his breaths coming out sharp and uneven. He was standing right by the ocean, in the open air, but somehow—it felt like he couldn’t breathe.

JJ didn’t waste another second. He scooped Liliana up effortlessly. “Come on, Lily.” He grabbed the beach bag and turned.

Then, just as he was about to leave, he glanced at Topper. For half a second, he debated whether to say anything at all. But in the end, he just sighed. “Happy birthday, Topper.”

Liliana, ever the mimic, waved her little hand at him. “Happy birthday, Topper!”

JJ walked off, moving fast.

Meanwhile, Rafe stood frozen, stomach twisting, head spinning. He felt sick. He didn’t even know why—just that he couldn’t stand being here a second longer. And sure, it was Topper’s birthday, but right now? He couldn’t care less.

What the hell was that?

“What the hell was that, man?” Kelce echoed his thoughts, eyebrows furrowed. He was trying to make sense of what had just happened, but it wasn’t clicking.

Rafe shook his head, his voice low and hoarse. “I’m not in the mood. I’m heading home.”

He didn’t wait for a response. He didn’t even look back.

Topper let out a slow whistle, mumbling under his breath.

“The fuck was that?”

When JJ slammed the door shut, the sharp sound echoed through the house, thickening the already tense air. His shoulders were tight, his fingers gripping the door handle for a brief second before slowly relaxing.

Running a hand through his hair, he let out a tired breath. His shirt still carried the salty trace of the ocean breeze, clinging to him like the weight of the day. He tugged at the fabric absentmindedly, fingers reaching up to rub the tension from the back of his neck—until a noise from the kitchen caught his attention.

The soft clang of a metal spoon against a pot rang through the quiet house, making it sound even louder.

Without rushing, he made his way down the hallway. When he reached the kitchen doorway, he saw you.

Your back was to him. You had the lid of a gently simmering pot lifted, stirring the contents with steady, deliberate movements. The steam rose, hitting your face, but you didn’t flinch or pull back. Your expression was blank as you stared into the pot, but the way you stirred—rough, almost aggressive—gave you away.

JJ knew you’d heard him come in.

The slight tensing of your shoulders. The momentary pause of the spoon in your hand.

You knew he was there. But you didn’t look up.

Of course, you knew he was home—but after that argument? You had decided you weren’t acknowledging him just yet. If he was going to act like an ass, you could too.

“Where’s Lily?” you asked, frowning slightly. You would’ve heard her by now if she were home.

“With Cleo,” JJ answered, voice even. He didn’t look at you either.

Your brows knitted together. Liliana being at Cleo’s didn’t make sense. Why would she be there? You followed JJ as he headed toward the living room, still not sparing you a glance.

“I thought you were at the beach?” you said, stepping out of the kitchen.

“We were.” His voice was devoid of emotion.

God, that attitude was pissing you off. He was still acting like this because of your fight? Really? Like a damn child.

You took a sharp breath, trying to rein in your irritation.

“Then why is Liliana with Cleo?” Your tone had an edge to it now. You weren’t letting this slide—he owed you an explanation.

JJ dropped onto the couch and, for the first time since he got home, finally turned to look at you. “Because we need to talk, and I can’t do that with Liliana in the house.”

Your arms crossed as you leaned against the doorway, lifting a brow. “Oh? Thought you made yourself pretty damn clear this morning.”

The memory of how he’d spoken to you earlier sent another wave of irritation through you.

“And I don’t want to argue with you while Liliana’s home,” JJ continued, voice steady but tight with barely contained frustration.

You scoffed, shaking your head. “So we’re gonna fight, huh? That’s what this is?” There was a mocking lilt to your tone. The irony of it all wasn’t lost on you—fighting seemed to be all you two did lately.

JJ let out a dry chuckle. “Not exactly out of character for us these days, is it?”

Despite the sarcasm, you could hear the undercurrent of resentment in his voice. He was sick of this, just like you were. But neither of you seemed to know how to stop.

You exhaled slowly, rubbing your temples. This was exhausting. The constant tension, the biting remarks, the thick air of resentment clinging to every room you shared. “What are you mad about now?” you finally asked.

JJ laughed—but there wasn’t a single ounce of amusement in it.

“The beach,” he said, eyes locked on yours. “We were there. And then, out of nowhere, your boyfriend shows up.”

Your posture stiffened instantly. The fuck was he on about now?

Your brows pulled together, irritation spiking. “What the hell are you talking about?”

JJ’s smirk disappeared, face darkening. “Rafe. He showed up.”

Your jaw clenched.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

He was acting like you had personally invited Rafe there, like you had orchestrated the whole thing. As if you had any control over where Rafe went and when. As if you even wanted to see him.

Rolling your eyes, you turned on your heel, heading straight back to the kitchen. “You’re ridiculous.”

JJ’s footsteps followed behind you almost instantly.

You shook your head to yourself, already regretting even engaging in this conversation. You didn’t want to keep this fight going, didn’t want him following you, but you knew he wasn’t about to let it drop.

“You really think I’m making shit up?” JJ’s voice was right behind you now.

You grabbed the spoon and resumed stirring, refusing to look at him. “I don’t have time for your bullshit, especially not when you’re accusing me of stuff that makes no sense.”

You heard the shuffle of his feet as he stepped into the kitchen. Your grip on the spoon tightened.

“Oh, so I’m lying?” JJ’s voice dripped with mockery. “You two haven’t been talking again? What do you call that, then? A little romantic reunion, lovebirds?”

Oh, he was doing this on purpose. You slammed the spatula down onto the counter, planting your hands on the marble. “For the love of God, will you just shut up?”

JJ let out another humorless chuckle. “So this is where we’re at now?”

Finally, you spun around to face him, leaning back against the counter. “I seriously cannot stand you right now. You show up just to pick a fight, then storm out like it’s my fault.”

JJ spread his arms, smirk still plastered on his face. “So I’ve gone from best friend to unbearable? Great. That’s real fucking nice to hear.”

That was it. Your patience snapped.

“What the fuck is your problem?!”

You were done. Done with the endless bickering, the passive-aggressive jabs, the way he kept pushing you for no reason.

JJ’s smirk vanished instantly. His jaw tightened as he jabbed a finger in your direction, voice rising to match yours. “You! You are my fucking problem! You and whatever the hell you’ve been doing lately!”

The room fell into an eerie silence. Your breaths were shallow, your heart pounding. JJ exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face, squeezing his eyes shut.

You pressed your palms against the counter behind you, gripping it tightly.

This wasn’t him. Not the JJ you knew.

“I don’t understand you anymore,” you admitted quietly. “I’ve tried—but I just don’t.”

JJ didn’t say a word. He didn’t even lift his head.

When you exhaled sharply, shaking your head, frustration tightened your chest. "I don’t understand you anymore either."

You had always been upfront with him. Always. But he was leaving you hanging in this weird limbo, refusing to give you clarity while demanding it from you. He had no right to say that. You had never done anything to make things uncertain between you two.

"I’ve always laid my cards on the table, JJ," you said, voice steady but edged with irritation. "If you don’t get me, it’s because you don’t want to."

"Oh, sure. Of course," JJ scoffed, voice laced with sarcasm. He turned to leave, but then—he hesitated. And when he turned back, there was something unreadable in his eyes.

"He didn’t know about me." The words slipped out so fast, they caught even him by surprise.

"What?" You frowned, already preparing for whatever cryptic nonsense he was about to spout next.

"Rafe," JJ clarified, jaw tightening. "He didn’t know about me."

The realization hit you like a slap. So that was what this was about.

You stared at him, waiting for him to say he was joking. Because surely—this had to be a joke.

"You didn’t tell him about me?" JJ asked, his voice so serious it made your stomach twist.

Your lips twitched slightly before you could stop them. A chuckle bubbled up, unbidden. You pressed a hand to your mouth, trying to contain it, but it was no use. Laughter slipped through, soft and incredulous.

"You seriously think I spend every second talking to him?" you asked, amusement cutting through your exasperation. "I’ve seen him, what, twice? And neither time lasted more than ten minutes."

JJ’s expression darkened. He didn’t seem amused in the slightest. "And yet, you didn’t mention me. You didn’t think to tell him that I’m a part of Liliana’s life?"

Your eyebrows shot up. "Oh, so now you admit you have a say in Liliana’s life?"

Because just this morning—hell, three days ago too—he had been going on and on about how he wasn’t her parent, how he had no claim over her. And now, suddenly, he cared? What, had a flower pot fallen on his head since the last time you spoke?

You never knew which version of JJ you were going to get whenever he walked through that door. It was exhausting, trying to keep up.

JJ opened his mouth like he was going to argue, but then he hesitated. You caught the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

You tilted your head, a little too entertained now. You knew him too well—knew this wasn’t just about Rafe. JJ was mad, sure, but there was something else underneath. Maybe even hurt. You had never really seen him like this before, but still, you knew him. Knew him down to his core.

"You were practically screaming this morning about how you’re not a parent," you mused. "So what changed?"

JJ rolled his eyes, running a hand through his hair as he took a step back. "Don’t twist my words."

You scoffed. "Oh, I’m twisting your words? That’s rich, coming from you."

His refusal to just talk to you like a normal person was pushing you past your limit. What was so hard about explaining himself? Why did he always have to turn everything into a fight? Did he really think you wouldn’t understand?

You shook your head. "That’s your thing, not mine." Your voice was sharp now, laced with frustration you couldn’t hide.

You hated this—hated fighting with him like this. It felt wrong. It felt like something was breaking. And all you wanted was to put it back together. But every time you tried, it just—fell apart again.

JJ let out a dry, humorless laugh, looking away. "Unbelievable."

You couldn’t read his expression anymore. And you hated that.

He ran his tongue over his teeth before giving you that half-smirk, the one that usually meant trouble. Your eye twitched. Was he seriously about to keep this up? He was standing here, acting like the victim, when he was the one who disappeared for three days without a word? When he hadn’t even bothered to explain himself?

You didn’t want to compare him to Rafe. You really, really didn’t. But right now—he was acting just like him.

Your patience snapped.

You took a step forward, pointing a finger at him. "You’re the one who’s unbelievable." Whatever amusement you had before was gone. "How old are you, JJ? Because you sure as hell don’t act like a grown man. You don’t talk like one. All you know how to do is run away and leave me to figure out your mess."

JJ’s jaw tightened. He shook his head, like he refused to accept what you were saying. "Don’t. Just—don’t."

You arched a brow, taking another step closer.

You never thought it would get like this between you two. JJ had been—everything. Your best friend. Your partner in crime. The one person you could always count on. And yet, here you were, standing inches apart, breathing heavy, anger crackling between you like a live wire.

"Oh, what? You don’t like what I’m saying?" You let out a bitter laugh. "What’s next, huh? You gonna throw all the things you’ve done for me in my face? Or maybe, this time, when things get too hard, you’ll just leave for good? You’ll walk away from me and Liliana—"

A hand clamped over your mouth, cutting you off mid-sentence.

JJ had moved fast. Too fast. His eyes burned into yours, inches away, his palm firm but not forceful against your lips. His other hand—when had that landed on your waist?

His voice was low, steady. "I would never do that."

He held your gaze like he needed you to believe him. Like he was silently daring you to contradict him. His eyes flickered between yours, searching—pleading, even.

But JJ was a liar.

Your fingers wrapped around his wrist, prying his hand away. He let you. He didn’t fight it. He moved with you, like he was mirroring your actions. Slow, controlled.

"I don’t believe you," you said, not even hesitating.

Maybe he wouldn’t leave. Maybe he really meant what he said. But you wanted to hurt him, just like he had hurt you. And for the first time, you saw it in his face. The flicker of something breaking.

Just as he stepped back, ready to retreat, the grip around your waist tightened. You couldn’t move.

JJ wasn’t going to let you have the last word. His gaze stayed locked onto yours, pupils blown wide. “I’m not that kind of person. You know that.” His voice was a low, angry whisper.

You swallowed hard. His breath fanned across your face. A part of you wanted to slap him, to take out every bit of pain and frustration from the past three days. You wanted him to pay for walking out on you, to shove him right back into whatever girl’s bed he had been crashing in.

You shook your head, eyes narrowing. He had no right to say this. Not after leaving you waiting by the door for three days straight. The JJ you knew—if he said he was coming back, he came back. He didn’t leave you staring at the door, wondering if he ever would.

“I don’t think I know you anymore.” Your voice was just as quiet as his, but you felt the sting of it in your own chest.

You hated the effect he had on you. Hated that he could still make you feel like this. You didn’t want to cry in front of him. You were used to people walking away, used to getting hurt, used to betrayal. But JJ? You had leaned on him. He was supposed to be different. He had never let you down before.

And you know what? That made it hurt even worse.

JJ exhaled sharply, shaking his head. A bitter smirk ghosted his lips. “But you do,” he murmured.

You weren’t sure if he was trying to convince you or himself.

“I don’t think so.”

You knew him better than anyone. That’s why you lied. Because deep down, you knew that if he just talked to you—if he just explained what the hell was going on—you wouldn’t even be fighting right now. But JJ was stubborn. Too stubborn. And you knew he’d never do that.

JJ took a half-step back, but his hand never left your waist. His brows lifted slightly. “So what now? What’s your next move?”

You shrugged. That wasn’t your problem. He was the one who needed to explain, the one who needed to apologize. Were you going to sit around and wait? No. You’d go back to Asheville alone if you had to. But he needed to say something. If this was how it was going to be, maybe your time as friends had run its course.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “But if you had just talked to me instead of throwing baseless accusations around, we wouldn’t even be here.”

JJ sucked in a sharp breath, stepping closer. His frustration radiated off him. “You drive me insane,” he muttered, his jaw tight. One hand ran through his hair, eyes squeezing shut.

You stared at him in disbelief. Oh, sure. Like this was your fault.

Before you could stop yourself, you shoved him—hard. He didn’t budge. If anything, the force just brought you closer to him. But you didn’t back down. You jabbed a finger into his chest.

“Oh, I drive you insane?” Your voice rose, incredulous. “You’re the one who’s making me lose my mind!”

How the hell was this getting turned around on you again? How did he always make it seem like you were the problem?

JJ opened his eyes, calm now, which only made your anger burn hotter. He tilted his head slightly, watching you. Everything about him irritated you in this moment. He didn’t even have to speak. Just existing right now was enough to piss you off.

His indifference. The way he had yelled at you earlier. The way he walked out, promising to come back but never did. The thought that he had been God-knows-where for three days, probably in someone else’s bed. The fact that when he finally returned, he acted like you were the one in the wrong. The never-ending fights. The accusations. The way he could still compare you to Rafe—

Your stomach twisted with disgust. Not just anger. Disgust.

How dare he? After everything, how could he act like this was just some normal breakup? Like you were just going to go crawling back? You almost lost the baby, for fuck’s sake. You spent four years suffering, and he was the first person to see that pain firsthand.

You trusted him. You—you loved him. And the first chance he got, he threw it back in your face like it was nothing.

Fuck him.

He had left you. He had made you wonder if he was ever coming back. And now? Now you were the bad guy? Again? Just like when you were pregnant and chose not to go through with the abortion? Just like every other time when somehow, it was always your fault?

Fuck that.

“You never listen to me,” you snapped. “I came to you for this decision, but you—”

You tried to explain yourself. Again. Even though you shouldn’t have to. You should just tell JJ to go to hell and be done with it. But here you were, still trying to make him understand.

Your voice faltered. Because you didn’t hate him. You couldn’t. But God, you wished you did. It would hurt a lot less if you could just hate him.

But before you could say anything else, JJ moved.

His hand caught yours, gripping it tight. Before you knew what was happening, he tugged you forward. His other arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer—

Then he dipped down, and before you could even register what was happening, his lips crashed against yours.

For a moment, your brain blanked.

It didn’t last long.

Your free hand instinctively moved to his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. You weren’t thinking. Every sound in your head shut off.

JJ’s hand tightened around your waist, thumbs brushing slow circles against your skin. The kiss deepened, urgent, like he was making up for every second he had spent away.

He guided you backward. You took a few steps before your lower back bumped against the kitchen counter. You barely even noticed. JJ made a quiet sound against your lips when you pulled him in closer by the nape of his neck.

His hands slid lower, fingers gripping at your hips. Your heart pounded. A warning, maybe. But you ignored it. You didn’t want to think about right or wrong right now.

Because this—this was right. JJ’s hands on you. The way your bodies fit together effortlessly. The way every movement, every kiss, felt like second nature.

Like you were made for this.

JJ’s hands moved, gripping beneath your thighs. In one smooth motion, he lifted you, setting you on the counter. You gasped softly at the sudden movement, your hands flying to his shoulders.

Now you were eye level. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you in again, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

You both pulled back at the same time, gasping for air. When your eyes met for just a second, something stirred inside you. JJ closed his eyes and rested his forehead against yours, your uneven breaths the only sound filling the space.

His hands stayed on your hips. As you tilted your head up slightly, his lips brushed against yours again. Your hand instinctively reached for his cheek, but this kiss was shorter than you expected. JJ turned his head away, breaking it off, and you licked your lips absentmindedly.

Slowly, his hands slid away from your hips. His gaze was somewhere else as he cleared his throat, rubbing his head like he was trying to shake something off.

"I'm sorry. I— I shouldn’t have done that."

The words hit like a punch to the gut.

Standing there, you felt completely exposed, like he had stripped you down to your very core. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears while your hands had turned ice cold.

Had that really just happened? Had you imagined it? Because once again, JJ was acting like it hadn’t.

Was he regretting it? You hadn’t done anything wrong. Right?

Had you crossed a line?

You didn’t know what was happening, why he had suddenly pulled away, but there was a burning sting at the tip of your nose. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

You moved to step down from the counter, his name on the tip of your tongue—but JJ took another step back. His eyes never once met yours.

"I should go. I— I don’t know what I’m doing. I wasn’t thinking. This was a mistake. I’m sorry. I’m really really sorry."

Then, without so much as a glance, he walked out of the kitchen.

You stayed frozen where you were. The sound of a door closing echoed through the house moments later, making you flinch.

He had left you again. Left you alone in this house, only this time, with even deeper wounds.

You had no idea what would happen next—you weren’t a fortune teller. But what you did know was that the real question wasn’t about the future. It was about how you were ever supposed to trust him again.

Because JJ had just erased five years of your past like they meant nothing.

He had been the one to protect you, and the one to hurt you. The one to kiss you, and the one to walk away.

And you? Where did you fit into this story? Were you always just the one left behind?

There had to be a reason. A justification for why he had snapped, for why he kept pushing and pulling, for all of it. But the worst part?

You weren’t even sure if you wanted to hear it anymore.

Your lips trembled as you shut your eyes.

Five years later. Same island. Same feeling of being abandoned.

Only the names had changed.

Your mind replayed the image of Rafe walking out the door the moment he found out about Liliana.

You had called Rafe a coward, hadn’t you? He was. But what about JJ?

JJ was just another coward, just as fucked-up as the rest of them. Maybe the real mistake had been trusting anyone more than yourself in the first place. Maybe that’s what these last few days had been trying to tell you all along.

Pathetic.

You had trusted him more than you had ever trusted yourself. And for what?

For him to run the first chance he got—just like the last one.

Turns out, five years hadn’t changed a damn thing. Five years ago, you were an idiot. And now?

Still the same damn fool.

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dreamdragonkadia · 2 months ago

Text

My Christmas saga continues.

p.jackson x reader

Being here really was bad for the wallet. New York had a way of draining it without mercy, and even worse, your two suitcases—already bursting at the seams—weren’t faring much better. You and Percy had only been here for a little over a week, and you’d both been dragged into the gravitational pull of every little boutique and holiday pop-up shop you passed. The logic was airtight, at least on your part. There were so many cute things that would look perfect in your West Coast apartment, and obviously, you were already planning ahead for the bigger picture: the house you two kept daydreaming about, one that would be bought in a few years.

The city was magic this time of year, snow clinging to sidewalks like dusted sugar, the streets humming with holiday cheer, and Sally Jackson’s apartment warm and cozy in comparison to the chill outside. It felt like you’d blinked and the week had flown by.

Still, there were a few more days to soak it all in.

Percy’s head was heavy on your stomach, one arm draped lazily across your hip as he refused to acknowledge the start of the day. You were half-sure he was still asleep, but you caught the way his lips twitched when Sally, ever the wonderful host and future mother-in-law, walked in and handed you a cup of coffee. “You two are worse than Estelle when it comes to waking up,” she teased with a smile, cradling her own mug.

“I’m awake,” you defended with a grin, careful not to jostle Percy too much. Your free hand absently combed through his unruly dark hair, which, in hindsight, probably wasn’t doing him any favors in the motivation department. He groaned in response, though you could feel his smile against your sweater.

Sally chuckled softly, sitting down on the arm of the couch with a content sigh. “What are the plans today? Or is it another day of convincing Percy to do more shopping?”

At that, Percy groaned dramatically, muffled into your stomach. “I didn’t sign up to carry this many bags on my vacation,” he grumbled. You nudged him with your elbow.

“You signed up when you became my fiancé,” you reminded him cheerfully. “It’s in the fine print.”

“That’s unfair. No one reads the fine print.”

“You should’ve,” you teased, grinning as you tugged gently on his hair. He finally looked up at you, sea-green eyes groggy but warm, his lopsided smile peeking through. Sally watched the exchange with that soft, knowing expression only mothers seemed to master, and you felt your cheeks heat up just a little under her gaze.

“Well, if you’re asking for input,” you said, turning to Sally, “we were thinking about heading into Midtown today. Percy wants to check out the LEGO store because he’s basically a seven-year-old in disguise.”

“I heard that,” Percy mumbled, though he didn’t even try to deny it.

“And then we’re grabbing lunch somewhere,” you continued, ignoring him. “After that, we can go ice skating if you’re up for it?”

Sally’s face brightened at the suggestion. “Oh, I’d love that! Estelle’s been asking about skating for weeks.”

At the mention of her name, Estelle Jackson herself came running into the room, still in her pajamas, her hair a curly mess of bedhead. “Did you say skating?!” she squealed, practically bouncing as she climbed onto the couch to tackle Percy’s legs.

“Whoa there, kiddo—personal space,” Percy whined, though he reached out to tickle her sides, sending her into fits of giggles.

You smiled as you sipped your coffee, watching the scene unfold. There was something so good about being here—about the way the Jackson family took you in like one of their own without hesitation. Sally always insisted you two stay with them when you visited, never taking no for an answer. And as much as you teased Percy about being glued to his childhood bed, it was nice waking up to the smell of Sally’s cooking and the sound of Estelle dragging her brother into another one of her games.

A yawn escaped Percy as he finally sat up, ruffling his hair like a sleepy golden retriever. “Fine. Skating it is. But if I wipe out, you’re buying dinner.”

“Deal,” you said quickly.

Estelle grinned wickedly. “Percy always falls!”

“I do not!”

“You fell last time,” Sally chimed in helpfully, sipping her coffee with an innocent look.

You bit back a laugh as Percy shot his mom an incredulous look, clearly betrayed.

The next few hours were a whirlwind of jackets, scarves, and laughter as you all bundled up to head into the cold. The city seemed to sparkle as snow flurries fell, dusting the streets in white. Percy tried to grumble about carrying your shopping bags, but you caught him sneaking a glance at one of your purchases—a tiny ornament shaped like a sea turtle—and knew he secretly loved it.

Midtown was as busy as ever, lights and sounds blending together into something magical. Estelle tugged on Percy’s arm at every window display, practically dragging him to the Rockefeller Center tree. You caught Sally watching the two of them with a soft smile, her eyes glimmering with pride.

And later, when you were all lacing up ice skates, Percy leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. “For the record, if I fall, I’m taking you down with me.”

You grinned. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The day stretched on, full of stolen moments like these—Percy stumbling on the ice and pulling you into his arms to steady himself, Estelle clinging to both of you as she skated ahead triumphantly, Sally laughing harder than you’d ever seen as she tried to keep up.

By the time you made it back to the apartment, rosy-cheeked and exhausted, it was nearly dark outside. The glow of the Christmas tree filled the living room as you all collapsed onto the couch, Percy pulling you close to his side with a content sigh.

“This,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple, “is what makes all the shopping worth it.”

You laughed softly, snuggling into him. “I told you so.”

From the other end of the couch, Estelle chimed in sleepily, “You two are gross.”

You and Percy exchanged a glance, smiling as you both leaned over to ruffle her hair.

“Get used to it, kid,”

#✨️by yours truly✨️#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #pjo #percy jackson x y/n #bookish #percy jackson x you #pjo x reader #christmas saga #im really into the holiday spirit with Percy

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delulustateofmind · 5 days ago

Text

Tame a B*tch

Sum: Using men for their money doesn't always end up well for pretty things like you. Loosely related to: Play em like a game

Yan!Nanami x Reader

TW: Yandere behaviors, captivity, slight pet play, Use of aphrodisiacs, mentions of drugs, dubcon, implied breeding, cervix fucking.

WC: 5.8k

The same spreadsheets, the same numbers, the same hollow chatter with bosses about quarterly reports and staying afloat. That was the life of Nanami Kento. Once married, now widowed. Perhaps that’s what caused the spiral. The quiet descent into madness. The moment he did something unthinkable. The day he brought you home.

To tame the wild thing in you.

You looked like her. Perhaps it was fate—a cruel, twisted joke—that he met you while you were unraveling, a creature tearing themselves apart, playing men in your twisted games. But he’s only trying to fix you. To show you love. Isn’t that what every woman wants? To be safe? To be cherished? So why do you look at him like that, those sharp, accusing eyes every time he steps into the room where he’s had to lock you away.

It hurts, honestly.

It hurts to see you like this. Starving yourself. Throwing the food he brings like some ungrateful animal. How could you reject what he offers so freely?

He’s only trying to love you. He is a good man.

He tells himself that it’s only temporary. That one day you’ll see things his way. Understand his love. Accept it. You’ll stop glaring at him like he’s the villain in your story. You don’t understand what he’s done for you. The way he’s pulled you from the filth you surrounded yourself with. The sacrifices he’s made, the lengths he’s gone to. He quit his job, you know. Walked away from the mindless grind just to be here for you, to give you his undivided attention. To make sure you didn’t slip away.

But you’re ungrateful.

Every scream, every snarl, every slap of your hands against the locked door only pushes him further.

“You’re only hurting yourself,” he murmurs through the door one evening, his tone calm despite the clench in his chest. Sitting outside your door, a tray of untouched food at his feet. Wondering if you can hear the way his hands tremble, how the silverware rattles faintly against the porcelain.

“I just want to take care of you.” A slight break in his voice as he swallows hard, wiping at his eyes before the tears can fall. He’s stronger than this. He has to be. For you.

Inside, you’ve gone silent. He pictures you curled up in the corner of the room, glaring at him from the shadows. It’s all right.

Because he can wait, at least that's what he keeps telling himself again and again, kneeling outside your door, fingers flexing against his knees. He’s patient. He has to be. Because love takes time, and you—you need time to understand. To realize that he is what’s best for you.

Inside, the silence stretches, thick and suffocating.

Then, finally, a sound. The rustle of movement. The faintest shift in your breath.

A victory.

Or so he thinks.

Because on the other side of that door, past the locks and the chains and the devotion he so freely offers, you stir to wakefulness, not with revelation, not with gratitude, but with a headache thrumming behind your eyes and cold leather biting against your throat.

The weight of the collar is the first thing you notice. Snug, pressing into your pulse every time you swallow. Then the scent—leather, faintly oiled, carrying the warmth of Nanami’s hands. Your hands shoot up to claw at the thick strap, but the padlock at your throat keeps it in place, metal pressing into the delicate skin just beneath your jaw.

There were a few probable causes for your current predicament—what led to the leather collar snug around your pretty neck. But none of that mattered as much as the pounding in your skull, the ache settling behind your eyes as you blinked up at the overhead lights. Didn’t he at least have the decency to use softer lighting?

What a bitch, however you suppose you don't have room to talk.

The floor beneath you is hard and unforgiving. Muscles aching from curling up on yourself, stiff from the lack of proper bedding. The familiar scent of him lingers on the blanket thrown over your shoulders—a cruel mockery of comfort when everything else has been stripped away, besides the party dress and the pretty pink panties he gifted you. One that you reluctantly accepted.

If you're going to be in hell, you might as well have good hygiene

You don’t bother fighting the nausea curling in your stomach. When you retch, dry-heaving into the metal bucket placed beside you, Nanami is already there. His hand cups the back of your head, not rough, but firm enough to keep you from collapsing. His thumb strokes the nape of your neck, a soothing gesture that sends a fresh wave of revulsion up your spine.

“You’ll feel better soon,” he murmurs, his voice warm, comforting. A priest at the altar, murmuring his blessings. His other hand dips a cool cloth into water, pressing it against your fevered skin. The sharp scent of lavender curls into your nose, soft, familiar—a calculated comfort.

You tremble against him, throat raw from sickness, body aching with exhaustion.

"There we go," he breathes, tucking your damp hair behind your ear with infuriating tenderness. Thick gentle fingers trail down, grazing the leather collar at your throat, the touch feather-light leaving goosebumps in their wake. His thumb lingers just beneath the padlock, where its cool weight presses heavily against your collarbones, a declaration of ownership masked with love.

"You were so wild before," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, his lips warm against your fevered skin. The scent of him—clean, familiar—fills your lungs, suffocating in its patience. "But I’m making you better."

The words settle over you like a second skin, sinking past flesh, past resistance, burrowing deep into something raw. You knew what you did. You understood. You played your games, used men like pawns, flashing that pretty, painted smile in exchange for something as trivial as a new handbag.

Nanami had been sweet. An easy man to play. Sickeningly so. That was the problem.

That kind of man wasn’t fun for girls like you, was he?

No, you never wanted the family man. You never wanted someone who’d make you believe love was anything but a slow, agonizing ruin. You wanted the thrill, the chase—a man who played just as dirty as you did. Someone who kept you clinging, desperate, always teetering on the edge of a high. Like the drugs that were once in your system.

Key word: were.

As your head hung over the metal bucket, body wracked with tremors as the sickness ate away at you. Nanami’s fingers wove through your hair, gently pulling it back, grooming you perhaps, ever the devoted man. A cool towel pressed against the fevered skin of your nape, his touch careful, considerate. The kind of love that should’ve been comforting.

It wasn’t.

When was this hell going to be over? Time blurred, lost in the fevered haze of withdrawal - the cold sweats, the violent mood swings, the nausea that never seemed to end. It was torture. And worst of all? It was with a man who wanted nothing more than to love you. You sucked in a shaky breath, only to feel the press of warm lips against your temple. The sharp scent of vomit clung to you, but if it bothered him, he didn’t show it. Nothing ever did.

At first, you had free reign, a spacious room, carefully tucked sheets, the softest pillows—a false sense of luxury, a familiar trap. And just like back then, he slept beside you. Just like when you’d bat your lashes, pout up at him, and coax another trip to that one five-star resort.

You ruined it, of course. Tried to smash a lamp over his head, thinking—hoping—he was the kind of man who would crumble at the first sign of defiance. But you underestimated him. Nanami does go to the gym. Nanami can pin you down in a second flat. And he can ignore the obvious hardness pressing against your thigh as he held you there, his expression stoic with mild discomfort while you thrashed beneath him, seething.

Like a rabid dog, you lost your privileges. The luxury suite was downgraded to a locked room with a steel door. Did no one at home renovations question a purchase like that?

“Feeling any better, honey?” he whispered, lips brushing against your temple before planting another slow, deliberate kiss. “Got all that nasty, revolting stuff out of your system?” His voice was warm, soothing, like a lullaby meant to calm a restless child. “Sweet girls should know better,” a soft murmur just as his breath ghosted over your skin. “Those pills aren’t candy. That powder was giving you nosebleeds…” He sighed, the weight of his disappointment sinking into every syllable. “God, if only you had told me sooner…”

Another kiss. Then another. His lips moved in slow, measured worship—against your temple, down your jaw, pressing lingering warmth into fevered skin. Your stomach twisted with something far worse than withdrawal.

“Get off me,” you managed to rasp, voice raw from retching, screaming, and the sheer helplessness of it all. However, his grip on your hair remained gentle, his fingers threading through the damp strands with sickening patience.

You weren't some pet. You weren't some wild animal that was sent to become domesticated.

The realization scorched itself into your fevered skin, cutting through the haze of withdrawals, the weakness in your limbs as a primal instinct crawled it's way back to the surface like the bile burning in your throat. You moved fast, faster than he expected. Or maybe he let you think that. With all the strength you could muster, you lashed out, nails dragging down his cheek, desperate to leave something—anything—of yourself behind. A mark. A reminder that you weren’t just some pet for him to cradle and fawn over. A sharp inhale. His hand shot up, seizing your wrist before you could strike again. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t curse. He didn’t throw you off like he should’ve.

Instead, Nanami hummed—soft, thoughtful. “That’s not very nice, sweetheart.” His grip on your wrist tightened, the pressure blooming into a dull ache, not to bruise, not enough to break - just enough to teach. Just enough to pull you to your senses, past that fight raging in your blood, past the foolish notion that you were anything but his to handle.

Your breath came out in ragged bursts, your body still weak, still trembling from the sickness and withdrawals, but your hatred burned through the fatigue. You bucked against him, fought against the grip pinning you in place, but he only sighed, shifting to straddle your waist.

“You always make things so difficult,” he murmured, thumb tracing the frantic pulse at your wrist. “But that’s alright.” A fresh surge of rage flared in your chest. You twisted, trying to slam your forehead into his, bite at the hand that dared to touch you so gently when all you wanted was to claw him apart. But Nanami was faster.

The moment your body lurched forward, he shifted, maneuvering with ease, and suddenly, you were back to being flat on your back, wrists pinned above your head. The worst part? The absolute worst part? He looked amused. Not angry. Not frustrated. Just… understanding. Like this was something he had expected. Like this was just another piece of you he was willing to take, to mold, to love despite the blood smeared across his cheek. And that—that was what made you truly sick.

“I know, sweetheart,” he murmured, pressing another kiss to your temple as if you weren’t spitting curses at him. “It’s hard. But I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

His forehead met yours, the weight of his hips sinking into you as he straddled your waist - not enough to allow a dull ache to bloom, just enough to break down resistance, to remind a straying dog where it belonged. Just to remind you who was in charge.

Had he been taking obedience classes?

“Now,” he breathed, voice steady, unshaken. “Are we done with this little tantrum?”

You thrashed beneath him, but it was useless, just like the other hundred times. His grip was firm, pressing you into the thin mattress like you belonged there—beneath him, beneath his will. Your pulse pounded against his palm, fast and frantic, but his thumb only stroked lazily over the racing vein at your wrist.

Then, just as suddenly as he had pinned you, he released you.

You barely had a second to react before his hand shot out again, fingers curling around your throat. Not squeezing. Not choking. Just resting there, warm and heavy. A warning perhaps, you just don’t think he has the balls to do it.

“You want to act like a rabid dog, sweetheart?” His voice was quiet, terrifyingly so. The gentle affection was gone, replaced with something icier. Something detached. “Then I’ll treat you like one.”

Your nails bit into his wrist, your body arching up in defiance, but he didn’t budge. Didn’t flinch. His grip only tightened just enough to make your breath hitch.

“No more soft beds,” he murmured, pressing the words into your skin as his hands tightened. “No more silk sheets. No more warm baths or gentle touches.”

He leaned in, his breath ghosting over your trembling lips.

“You want to bite the hand that feeds you?” A humorless chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Fine. Then you can crawl for your meals.”

He let go of your throat with a soft pat, standing up with a quiet sigh, like this was some minor inconvenience he had to deal with. He wiped the blood from his cheek with the back of his hand, staring down at the crimson streaks like they were nothing more than spilled ink.

Then he looked at you.

And for the first time, you felt it.

The absence of warmth. The weight of his exhaustion, the slow fraying of whatever patience he had left.

"You think you're untouchable," he mused, dragging a hand through his hair. "That you're special. That you get to hurt and take without consequence."

He crouched down, resting an elbow on his knee as he met your glare head-on, eyes cool and impassive.

"You’re not," he said simply. Then he stood and turned toward the steel door.

"You want to be wild?" His hand hovered over the lock, fingers flexing before he pushed the heavy door open. "Then be wild. But don’t expect me to stand around while you’re harming yourself."

From that day on, things… changed. The plush mattress you once lounged on was stripped away, replaced with a thin, unforgiving mat. The silken sheets, the delicate comforts—gone, as if they had never existed. Meals were no longer fed to you with gentle hands. No more coaxing words. No more warm fingers brushing against your lips, testing your temperature with soft concern. Instead, he would drop a bowl at your feet with all the care of someone feeding a stray. Atop the meager meal, two small pills would always sit.

One white—something to sedate you.

The other, small and blue—birth control.

A declaration of ownership. A reminder that your body was still his, even if his arms no longer held you.

Because holding was for lovers. lovers who didn’t act like rabid dogs.

So you resisted. Of course, you did. You let the food sit untouched, let your stomach cramp and twist with hunger, let your body weaken until your limbs shook when you tried to stand. You thought maybe—maybe—you could make him break first. That he would give in, that he would fold like before, press his lips to your forehead and murmur, please, sweetheart, eat for me.

But he didn’t.

Instead, the patience drained from his eyes, his jaw locking tight as he knelt in front of you, gripping the bowl with calloused fingers. His gaze flickered as if debating whether to speak, whether to reason with you. He didn't. Instead, he scooped the rice porridge into his hand and forced it between your lips, fingers prying past clenched teeth.

You gagged, choked, tried to twist away. His palm pressed against your jaw, keeping your mouth shut until you swallowed. Until he was sure you wouldn’t spit it back in his face.

Starvation wasn’t an option.

Not when he owned your survival.

“You want to act like an animal,” he murmured, voice devoid of emotion, “then I’ll feed you like one.”

The warmth was gone.

The same warmth you used to tease him about—back when he would glance over at you during a late-night drive to some high-end restaurant, willing to drop a small fortune just to see you indulge in luxury. And yet, you’d barely pick at the expensive food, more interested in texting other men under the dim glow of candlelight.

You were a bitch. Now, he was simply treating you like one.

You gasped and choked, trying to spit out the food, but his hand never wavered, pressing firm against your jaw, making sure you swallowed every last grain.

Then came the water. No cups. No careful tilts of a glass to your lips like before. Just a shallow bowl, filled to the brim, set down in front of you like a challenge. And when you refused, glaring up at him through sweat-slick lashes, he sighed. A sharp whistle. Then his fingers curled around the leather collar at your throat, yanking you forward—not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you. Your hands shot up to claw at his wrist, to rip away the restraint, but he was faster. Stronger. With humiliating ease, he forced you to your knees, your body collapsing against his leg, the cool steel of the leash chain rattling as he kept you close.

“I won’t let you dehydrate,” he said simply, before lowering his voice. “Drink.”

Water sloshed as he poured more into the bowl, the surface rippling, reflecting your own hollow-eyed stare. You should have fought harder. Should have spit in his face, should have lunged for his throat like the dog he thought you were. But you were so thirsty. Your tongue felt swollen, and cracked, your throat raw from retching, from screaming, from the hours of resistance.

You wanted to win. You however wanted water more. So you lowered your head, heart hammering, hating yourself, hating him, hating everything as your lips finally touched the surface.

Nanami’s grip loosened.

He let go of the leash.

When you were done, trembling and gasping, wiping at your chin with shaking fingers, you finally dared to look up. He was staring down at you, his face impassive, unreadable. But for just a second—just a flicker of a moment—you saw it. Fondness. So brief, so fleeting, but it was there. A slight softening of his eyes before he quickly looked away. What was worse—what was truly pathetic—was the tent in his pants, the way even he wasn’t above something as base as lust.

As water dripped from your lips, you looked up at him, impassive. Unmoved. He could play at being above it all, at being some unshakable, disciplined man, but in the end? He was just like the rest.

You smiled, shifting onto your knees as you reached for him—Only to have your hand smacked away. Gently, of course.

“Bad dog,” Nanami said coolly. “That’s only for wives.”

Your brows lifted before a sharp, breathy laugh left your lips.

“Not bitches?”

You licked the lingering water from your lips, watching the way his jaw tightened ever so slightly. “It’s fine. You can say it. You want to, don’t you? You want to put me in my place. Because that’s all this really is, right?”

You tilted your head, voice dripping with mock sympathy. “This isn’t about making me better—it’s about punishing me. About putting me on my knees, making sure I crawl for everything I used to have. Making sure I know that I’ll never be anything more than your pet. Because you can’t have me as anything else.”

His expression didn’t tremble, but you caught it—the flicker of something behind his eyes, the way his fingers twitched at his sides. Good. You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice to something saccharine, that dripped with venom.

“You’re getting revenge, aren’t you, Kento?”

A smirk curled at your lips.

“Have you been lurking through my phone while I’ve been locked up in here? Watching those videos of me touching myself for other men?”

Silence - a sharp, satisfying crack in his composure.

“The ones I never sent you,” you murmured, smiling cruelly. “Because why the fuck would I? You’re nothing but a pathetic—”

The word never left your lips, because in the span of a second, Nanami moved. Not out of anger, not from your cruel words, no, this was out of sheer coldness. One moment you were smirking, basking in the way you could feel his restraint fraying at the seams—the next, your back hit the thin mattress, wrists pinned above your head with an ease that made your stomach lurch.

You should have expected it.

You wanted it, you still sucked in a sharp breath when his weight pressed down, never hurting—but letting you know, without a shred of doubt, that you weren’t going anywhere. A spark of amusement in his eyes, dulled beneath the weight of lust.

“You think I didn’t know?” His voice was eerily calm. “That you were filthy?” His grip didn’t tighten as you still squirmed against it, more out of defiance than actual struggle. “And yet,” he continued, tone almost conversational, “you mistake me for one of them. Those men you let use you. The ones you let watch you, touch you, forget about you.”

A quiet scoff.

“You think I’m pathetic?” His lips ghosted over your ear, not out of affection, but to let the words sink under your skin. “I could have had you, sweetheart. I could have fucked you in a thousand different ways before you ever thought to look my way.” As dipped lower, quieter, like he was telling you a secret, his grip on your wrists loosened, his knee moving to press against the overwhelming heat between your thighs.

“But I don’t fuck whores.”

Your breath stilled, your body going rigid beneath him. For a moment, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of your own shallow breathing. Then, he gently nipped against the shell of your ear, the same spot where his praise used to linger.

“But I do make them wives.”

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, searching, waiting. Not for remorse. Not for shame. For understanding. Because that was what it had always been, wasn’t it? You’d fought him, mocked him, bared your teeth in defiance. You could spit venom, sharpen your words into daggers, try to cut him down where he stood— But you felt it now. The reality of your situation —you felt it—felt the slow lift of the poor excuse of a party dress you’d been wearing for days. The same dress you refused to change, refusing to indulge in the frilly, doll-like things he’d bought for you. Your panties, however—those you had relented on. Gone were the flimsy g-strings you wore to clubs, traded for something softer, something sweeter—pastel pink, delicate lace, ones he had chosen for you.

Domestication, turning you into something worth loving.

Now as he was pulling them to the side. A fevered kiss met your neck, followed by another, his lips burning against your skin, dragging over the sensitive column of your throat. Your breath hitched as he lifted your legs with ease, wrapping them around his waist, pressing closer, deeper, the chain of your leash rattling softly as his fingers curled around it.

You shouldn’t be enjoying this.

You shouldn’t feel warmth coil in your stomach as he gave the leash a gentle tug, not to hurt—not to choke—just to tilt your chin up, to capture your lips more fully. He had never kissed you like this before. Never with this kind of hunger. Yet, even now, even in this moment of possession, he remained patient, controlled, kisses that were consuming, but never punishing. Never cruel. Unlike the men at the clubs, the ones who bit too hard, grabbed too rough, and kissed with carelessness and greed—Nanami kissed you like a man fulfilling a duty. Like a priest at the altar, like a man worshipping something divine.

Even as his thick fingers pried you open, even as your breath stuttered, even as heat flooded through your veins— It was adoration. As your weak legs trembled around his waist, as each soft gasp escaped your cracked lips against your will. You realized what he already knew. You weren't fighting him anymore, no, you were acting like the very thing you despised.

Like a bitch in heat. A bitch willing to be controlled.

To be cared for.

To earn the praise of your owner for rewards.

Spreading your legs without a care in the world as he worked you open, stretching you with patient, meticulous devotion. His thick fingers curled inside you, stroking, coaxing, preparing. You let him. You let him take you in, swallowing each strangled moan between soft kisses, tongues tangling, drool slipping from your parted lips when the kiss finally broke, when you gazed up at him—fevered, desperate, begging for the release only he could grant. To sooth the pulsing ache between your slickened thighs. As your lips parted, murmuring soft begs and breathless pleas, words you never thought you’d say, not to him, not to this man. He had broken you down piece by piece until all you could do was need. And so, finally, he gave you what you wanted.

A sharp gasp slipped from your lips as he guided his thick length inside, his movements careful, strokes controlled, pushing deeper and deeper, filling you inch by inch until he reached the hilt. Your head tipped back, mouth parted in a silent cry, the stretch intoxicating, overwhelming, too much and yet not enough. A low groan rumbled from his chest, his breath warm against your neck, his arms caging you in as if he could press you further into the thin mattress, further into him.

A haze clouded your mind, thick and all-consuming, making it impossible to think, impossible to fight. Because what was there left to fight? He had you unraveling for him, allowing him to fill you up into the depths.

Allowing yourself to be bred like a bitch, after all a litter makes a better dog. Some say a better wife.

Yet, as his cock dragged in slow, shallow thrusts against your velvety walls, reaching depths that had you gasping for air that no longer seemed to come, a small thought began to fester.

What happened to that little blue pill?

You had grown used to its bitter remnants, the way it left a sharp aftertaste in your porridge. At first, you barely noticed it, just a faint hint of something medicinal, something unwelcome. lately… the porridge had tasted sweet. You had assumed it was just him indulging you, adding sugar to make up for the blandness, a small kindness in the cruelty of your confinement.

Before you could dwell on it, his gentle movements pulled you back under, dragging you deeper into the haze, into him. Large rough hands pressed into the backs of your plush thighs, lifting your legs higher, draping them over his shoulders with ease. The shift had you gasping, had you sinking into the thin mattress as he folded you into a mean mating press, pressing himself impossibly deeper.

A pathetic whimper escaped at the stretch, the way the velvety tip of his cock pressed against your cervix, sending a sharp, aching pain curling through your core. Your stomach tightened, coiling around the warmth threatening to escape. Nanami's lips brushed against yours as he shushed you gently, swallowing the sound as if it were something sacred.

Whispering between each rough thrust, every punishing stroke that forced against your cervix as if he were trying to break through to your womb, with every roll of his hips—as if he were carving himself into you.

"I knew you’d come around."

His hips rocked into you, slow and deep, making sure you felt everything, every inch, every deliberate drag of his cock against your walls. Making sure there was no space left between you.

"I’m sorry," he murmured, pressing another kiss to your lips. "I hope you can forgive me."

For what?

For this?

For all of it?

Or for something else, something you hadn’t yet figured out? Something that had tasted sweet in your mouth, something that should have been bitter. Your fingers curled against his arms, weak, unsure, too lost in the pleasure, too lost in him to focus.

The thoughts lingered, a whisper beneath the haze, but it was drowned out by the rhythmic press of his hips, the overwhelming stretch of him inside you, the way he handled you with reverence even now—despite everything, despite your defiance, despite the war you’d fought against him. Your body trembled, unable to do anything but take what he gave, pinned beneath the weight of his devotion.

"That’s it," he murmured against your lips, dragging his mouth along your jaw, nipping gently before soothing the bite with a kiss. "You were made for this, sweetheart."

Your stomach fluttered at the words, at the way he said them—like a man whispering a prayer, a vow. Your hands clawed at his arms, weak and useless, the pleasure drowning out any resistance left in your body. Your mind tried to grasp at that lingering thought, that doubt, but then he shifted, rolling his hips in a way that had your eyes rolling back, had your nails digging into his skin instead.

You felt the moment he broke.

The way his composure finally cracked, his thrusts turning less controlled, less measured as if he could barely hold himself back. His grip on your plush thighs tightened - brusingly as his forehead pressed against yours, breath warm, ragged, desperate.

"We're going to be a happy family," he whispered hoarsely.

The chain of your leash rattled softly as he tugged it again, pulling you impossibly closer as if in fear that'd you run as pleasure curled hot and unbearable in your stomach, and before you could fight it, before you could push down the truth of what he had done to you, the way he had ruined you.

You broke.

Your body shuddered beneath him, your legs tightening around his shoulders, and you felt him smirk against your skin. Felt the groan vibrate against your throat as he finally, finally let go, sinking as deep as he could, filling your womb completely.

A moment of silence followed. A moment where all you could hear was the sound of your own ragged breathing, the hammering of your heartbeat, the slow, careful way he smoothed his hands over your trembling thighs.

The aftermath. A large palm slid down your leg, pressing into the soft flesh as he gently unhooked you from his shoulders, lowering them back onto the mattress. His touch remained steady, grounding, as if he knew you had nothing left to fight with.

You let him.

You let him carry you after, his arms strong, steady, as he lifted your spent body from the thin mattress, ignoring the way your muscles twitched, ignoring the quiet whimper that slipped past your lips.

"Shhh, sweetheart," he murmured, voice gentle now. "I’ve got you."

The room had changed. Gone was the cold steel of your confinement, gone was the cruel mat you had been forced to sleep on.

Because he was carrying you back. Back home, at least that's what he said, though you were sure it wasn't your beloved, lived in apartment.

The bedroom was warm, the dim golden glow of soft lighting replacing the harsh fluorescence of the other room. There in the attached bathroom, a bath was already drawn, warm steam curling in the air, the scent of lavender thick and soothing.

A promise of comfort.

Nanami set you down carefully on the cool bathroom counter, brushing damp strands of hair from your face, his touch unbearably soft. Regret was etched in his stoic features as you noticed him looking into your lifeless eyes that trailed to the roses floating in the bath. Then flickering to the sink where a small white box was placed neatly beside a warmed folded towel.

A pregnancy test. Your breath caught, your stomach twisting as your mind raced with what just happened.

What you allowed to happen to yourself.

Nanami gathered you into his arms once more, carrying you towards the bath, pressing soft, patient kisses along your jaw murmuring soft words about how you don't need to worry about that now. Now all you needed to focus on was comfort. About being a wife.

Ah, you finally understand what happened to the blue pill.

He really was a cruel man disguised as something sweet.

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere nanami kento #yandere #yandere x reader #male yandere x reader #yandere nanami x reader #yandere kento x reader #yandere x darling #male yandere

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airaibunny · 1 year ago

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momo x reader - “it’s you” (warnings: smut[dom reader], angst with happy ending, sexual boundaries being pushed, crying, self deprecation, fingering, oral, heavy jealousy, spanking, cursing, degradation, slight praise, i feel like i’m forgetting something else…)

a/n: req!(“I’m obsessed with concept of being friends with benefits where the reader or member secretly has feelings for the other and gets jealous. If you could, could you do another friends w/ benefits but with Momo?”)okay, idk how this turned into angst like literally i went into it just wanting to make it rough sex. i rolled with it though, if it sucks pls tell me to stfu and stick to smut. hope you like this train wreck, mind you this was entirely written in 2 hours on a plane so like🙏

HEAVY HEAVY CONTENT WARNING, TAKE THE TAGS VERY SERIOUSLY PLEASE

word count: 2.3k

low moans fill your dorm room as the sweat makes your hair stick to your forehead. with your face between her thighs, momo’s sickeningly sweet scent engulfs your nose. you praise her every sound, “just like that, you sound so pretty,” you coo, “you’re doing so well for me.”

her release comes with a gasp and you greedily lap up everything spilling out of her. your tongue glides up and down her folds, devoted to letting her completely give out.

you come up, wiping your mouth with your fingers and licking her off of them. “you were wonderful as always.”

“hm.” she’s still not thinking clearly, her attempt at a response coming out as a moan. you laugh and get up to find your clothes.

“are you leaving?” she sits up in bed, wiping her hair out of her face. “we’ve been in here too long, they’re going to wonder what we’re doing.” she flops back down. “i’ll be out there in a few.”

after you put all your clothes on, you walk to the door. your hand lays on the doorknob motionless for a few seconds, deciding on whether it should turn it or not.

if you’re being honest with yourself, you don’t want to leave.

momo completely consumes every one of your thoughts. there’s not a single event in your day that you don’t connect to her. you can’t wait for the one or two hours a day you get to have her all to yourself, even if she just sees it as sex. when you’re with her, you swear the world outside could end and you wouldn’t notice. she has become your everything, but you’re not the same to her.

to her, you’re just a friend she casually fucks. nothing more, nothing less. of course you feel incredibly lucky that you at least get to have this, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t yearn for more.

you want to tell everyone she’s yours and only yours, on all fronts.

but you can’t just bring it up to her, you would never be able to move on if she rejected you. even on days when she’s especially clingy and really makes you think she wants the same thing, you still tell yourself you’re over-analyzing.

“did you freeze?” she asks from behind you. you push the door and walk out, not making eye contact with her.

you start making your way to the kitchen to drink water and run into dahyun on the way there. “do you know if momo is in her room?” “she is.”

she walks away, but turns around again before leaving. “is she alone?”

‘why do you care?’

you think to yourself, of course you don’t respond with that, but it takes a great deal of self control not to.

“yes, she is.” you give her a fake smile and continue on your way to the kitchen.

“you’re so great at hiding when you’re angry.” mina teases as soon as she sees you. you roll your eyes at her and grab a glass of water. “were you with her just now?”

mina is the only person you’ve told about you and momo, your feelings for her included. it’s not that you don’t trust your other members; you just trust mina the most. with the others, there’s always a possibility that they might let it slip when they don’t mean to, but you know mina it’s ditzy enough to do that.

“yes.” you take a sip of your water and look down, trying to avoid mina’s gaze. “i’m tired of speaking to you about this, you know you’ll have to confess eventually. you’re destroying yourself, y/n.” she might not be telling anyone, but she sure as hell loves to hammer you about it.

“i know,” you sigh, “but how?” she walks beside you and pulls you into a hug. “you know what i have to say to that.” “yeah, yeah, whatever ‘it doesn’t matter how.’” she’s right, you’re very aware of that, but can’t bring yourself to do it.

“i’m going with everyone else, you coming?” you tell her you’ll be there shortly and let her leave. you stay sitting and contemplating your situation for a few more minutes until you decide to join your fellow members.

as soon as you walk into the living room your eyes dart towards momo, curled up next to dahyun. it instantly makes you see red, and very noticeably apparently because mina shoots you a knowing look.

you sit right across from them, glaring at them. you grit your teeth every time dahyun rubs momo’s leg or turns to whisper in her ear. you know that you all have a very close bond, and this is by no means out of the ordinary, but you can’t handle it when it involves with momo.

you also know she’s allowed to be with other people if so she desires, but if that’s what’s happening, is she really that shameless?

“y/n!?” jihyo yells beside you and you jump. “are you listening or just sitting there?” you are, in fact, not listening, too focused on the two people in front of you.

“sorry, i’m listening.”

“so what do you think?” you stare at her in confusion and your lie becomes evident. “ugh, never mind. i was saying that…” you tune her out again as you watch momo toss her head back in laughter at something dahyun said.

nothing could possibly be that fucking funny.

an hour passes of the same thing; momo and dahyun’s antics being met with your cold stare. that’s why you don’t waste a second when momo gets up and heads to the bathroom.

you make sure nobody can see down the hallway and follow her. she almost shuts the door, but you push it pack and step inside with her.

“oh sorry, i didn’t notice you.” she says, a fake pout on her lips.

“save it.” you walk closer to her, pushing her back until her ass hits the counter. “do you get off by being a slut on display, huh? does having people watch you be a whore turn you on?”

she smirks at you, acting like she’s completely unaware of what you’re saying. you see right through her, her rosy cheeks and labored breathing tell you she’s already dripping.

“what do you mean, are you jealous because of dahyun? do you not like seeing her touch me?” she gets really close, you can feel her breath on your neck.

fuck, even if you can tell what she’s doing, she knows how to push your buttons.

you grab her waist and turn her around, slamming her hips against the counter. she lets out a whine, but you’re too deep in your head to worry about whether it was in pain or pleasure.

“me, jealous?” you laugh, holding her in place, bent over the counter for you. “i just feel so bad for you. are you really that desperate? one girl isn’t enough, you need two?”

you rip off her shorts and panties, delighting in their soaked state. as soon as her ass is exposed, you land a hard hit on it. her back arches and you spank her again, harder. she whimpers with each slap and you can see her pussy growing wetter.

“that gets you really excited, look at that.” you dip your fingers between her folds, a silky string of her glistening slick attached to them when you take them off.

you grab her wrists behind her back, pulling her up by her hair at the same time. you think maybe you’re being a little too rough for a second, but your jealousy completely blinds you.

you shove her once again, against the door this time. you angrily let go of her hair and your hand flys to her ass, spanking her again. your own pussy throbs when you can perfectly make out your hand print on it.

“ow, y/n…” a tears rolls down her cheek and you chuckle at her. “oh c’mon, i thought you liked being treated like a bitch.”

another tear comes, then another. you’d normally ask her if she was alright, but you’re truly not yourself in this moment. seeing her so close with dahyun awakened something you didn’t know you had in you.

you fingers dive right into her entrance without teasing or warning, making her cry out.

“y/n, that hurts!”

her tears don’t stop. you’ve never been this way with her, but now you’re thinking you should’ve done this sooner. she looks absolutely stunning breaking down for you.

“crocodile tears, you know you love this.” she sobs, whining every time your fingers harshly re-enter her.

“they’re not, please…”

you hear her, but you don’t process what she’s saying. “oh shut the fuck up, whore.” another slap on her ass, right on top of the red handprint from before.

“stop, please, stop!”

only when she’s repeatedly begging you to stop do you remove your fingers and ease up, realizing you were basically cutting off her breathing with how hard you were pressing her against the door.

her legs immediately give out on her and she nearly falls to the ground, but you catch her before she does so.

you’re still in shock at what you just did, muttering countless apologies to her. she doesn’t react, just cries.

you hurriedly put her clothes back on and lead her to her bedroom, looking down the hallway to make sure none of the other girls can see you.

you lock the door when you step inside and carry her to the bed. “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry.” your own tears form in your eyes, you feel like a monster. why are you crying? you’re the one who did this to her. if you love her so much, why’d you do this?

“momo, i’m sorry.” her sobs keep coming, each one deepening your wound even more.

“why were you like that?” she asks, wiping some of the still cascading tears from her face. you stay silent, too ashamed to give her an honest reply. “i don’t deserve an answer?”

“i went too far, i’m sorry.” you turn away, not wanting her to see your tears. she pulls your shoulder and makes you face her. “but why?” your heart breaks as you get a good look at her beautiful eyes completely bloodshot, and her rosy cheeks red and sticky with tears.

“because i’m a fucking idiot, and i kept things in for too long, and i just let them all pour out in the worst way possible. i’m sorry momo, i’m so, so sorry.” you break down, sobbing just as hard as she is. “i’ve,” you think about your next words very carefully, “i’ve loved you for so long, momo. i didn’t know how to say it. my incompetence just ended up hurting you, i’m so sorry.”

you feel even worse as her hand trembles on your cheek, wiping away the tears. you take it into your own, turning your face to kiss it.

“you’re not incompetent,” you cut her off. “no, don’t console me, i’m not the one in need of that.” she moves closer to you, settling in on your shoulder and grabbing both of your hands in hers. you can still see the tears falling from her eyes and onto her lap, only serving to make your own sorrows multiply.

“i haven’t been the brightest either.” you turn your face to look at her and she does the same. “asking you to just have sex with me seemed easier than asking you to be my girlfriend.”

you’re in utter shock for a few seconds, her sentence hitting you like a train.

all of this performing and going around in circles you’ve been doing for so long because you thought she didn’t feel the same way, you could’ve skipped all of that?

you should be ecstatic about this, but you won’t let yourself. you hurt her, you hurt her really bad. how could she ever forgive you?

“i’m so sorry i didn’t say anything sooner.” she starts audibly crying again and buries her head into your neck. you lift her face up, holding it in your hands. “why are you apologizing? don’t do that, please, don’t apologize to me for anything.”

for the first time in however many months this has been happening, she crashes her lips into yours. kissing always felt like a thing for couples in a weird way, which you both stressed you weren’t.

“momo…” she closes the distant between you two again, making your lips connect. you don’t try pulling away this time, you let her take the lead. the kiss is deep and passionate, perfectly matched to her lips. right now, her lips feel infinitely better on your own than they do anywhere else on your body. she’s heavenly; too good for you.

“momo, i’m so sorry.”

“i forgive you, y/n, i’ll always forgive you.”

more tears spill out of your eyes, how could she forgive you? “you can’t do that.”

her own tears still stain her face as she grabs your shirt into a fist, making you foreheads touch. “you do not get decide that for me.” she pauses to kiss you again. “i want you, i want you so bad, and you’re not going to pull away now that i know you feel the same way.” she sniffles, looking into your eyes while coming up with her next words.

“please don’t pull away.” you take her into your arms, you both still gasping for air from crying.

“i won’t.”

you wipe the hair from her face, wanting to admire every little detail.

“i love you so much, i’ll never make you feel like that again, i promise.”

she looks at you with pure admiration in her eyes.

“i love you too, and i believe you.”

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henry7931 · 7 months ago

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Freaky Friday Block Part 2 Max & The Thomas Family

Max:

I’m sitting here trying to do some kind of research on this situation and I don’t even know what to freaking google. I mean I could just type in, “help, I woke in my friend’s dad’s body. Oh and by the way said friend is now his little brother.”

I don’t know, I’ve been listening to Jacob and Conner go back and forth for hours now. And Mr. Thomas is much help either.

I’m just glad my family was out of town so they didn’t have to deal with this whole body swap thing.

The craziest part is that we learned quickly that ‘we’ aren’t the only ones. I think half of the block is going crazy right now from waking up as someone else.

Hell, I saw that college guys a couple houses down walking one of their roommates. He literally swapped bodies with a dog! Nuts right?

I guess I can’t be too mad with Mr. Thomas’s body. Hell, I’m hoping once some of the chaos settles down I can actually enjoy all of this.

Wait a minute, where is Mr. Thomas? He left over an hour ago and said he’s just going to change and come back….

Mr. Thomas

Fuck I’ve been stroking this thing for hours now! I can’t stop!!

I know it’s awful of me especially this being the body of one of my son’s friends… but you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a whole house to myself? Hell, I haven’t been on a date in 10 years.

Ever since my kid’s mother left me after I came out to her I’ve had a hard time finding anyone to date.

But sitting here in this young handsome body… playing with this cock. Oh my god…

I keep trying to head back to my house but I’ve truly lost track of time. I’m just too horny right now.

I wonder… oh here it is! I knew Max was gay, he had Grindr already downloaded.

I take him off of discreet and update his bio: looking, ready to host.

Shit, his parents don’t come back for another week. I can at least enjoy myself at night.

Back at the Thomas’ Home:

Conner:

This is so freaking cool!! Not only did I wake up this morning inside my big brother’s body but now I have his room too!!!

I told him this morning since I have his body, that I get his room. He was so flipping mad about it but I can’t fit in my old bed anymore.

We screamed at each other for a long time. But I ended up picking him up and carrying him in my much smaller body back to my room.

He waited outside the door throwing a tantrum for a bit before giving up. So looks like I won!

Now I have an entire bathroom to myself and I even have my own cellphone (which I’m surprised he didn’t try to get from me.)

Now I think I’m going to take a shower because my new body is stinky!!!

I take off Jacob’s sweat pants he slept in and stopped at his undies.

I wonder what this looks like…

I yank them off and Jacob’s weiner comes floppin out. He has a big bush of hair right above it and weiner is way bigger than mine.

I start playing with it for a few until it gets hard.

I walk into the shower and start rubbing some all over my new muscles down to Jacob’s stinky feet.

Jacob’s feet are always stinky especially after practice. Sometimes they will stink up our entire house.

I weirdly like the smell…

I wash in between his toes and work back up his hairy legs.

I wrap his strong hand around his weiner and started tugging at it.

It felt so good that I couldn’t stop!

I tugged and tugged faster and faster…

I started to get really warm inside…

That’s when I started squirting all over the shower uncontrollably.

I was so out of breath that I laid on the shower floor for a few.

As soon as I could stand back up, I turned off the water and dried off.

I walked over to the mirror and stared at my big brother’s face that I now controlled.

I hope I keep his body forever!

*knock knock*

“Conner it’s me, you have my phone and I want it back,” I hear coming from the door.

I walk over to the door and open it up.

“I don’t think you’re getting this phone. Actually, it’s my phone now. I have this body which was your body. But now it’s mine. So my phone, my room, and now my body. Also, I think it’s best if you call me Jacob for now. Understood little bro?”

Jacob was so angry. He tried to yank the phone out of my hand but I just dangled it over him.

“So close on getting it!”

I jumps for it again and laugh at him.

“Well this has been fun but I’m going to lock my door now.”

I closed the door in his face and went back to his bed.

I pulled my towel off and grabbed one of his dirty socks off of the floor. I laid back on his bed or I should say my bed now— sniffing his dirty sock and gently playing with my new hairy balls.

Max:

So no one else seems to care right now about trying to figure out why we are all in each other’s bodies. So I decided to stop caring as well and just enjoy my new hot daddy body.

Starting with these sexy ass feet! God, I’m already getting hard!

My initial plan was to take a shower and I got as far as stripping down and grabbing a towel.

Unfortunately, I’m so distracted by these feet and Mr. Thomas’s big hairy ballsack.

I eventually get to the shower, still have not jerked off yet.

It’s fun seeing Mr. Thomas hard throbbing cock leaking so bad…

I’ll fondle it for a few and stare down at his feet again.

God I love them!! If we ever switch back I wish there was a way I could take his feet with me. Or at least get some visitation of his lower half.

Hell, this maybe my forever body. I may be Daniel Thomas forever.

I dry off and sit in the steamy bathroom… talking dirty to myself.

I work my way back to his bed jumping on it. I hold his feet up the air again.

I pull the towel off completely and rub his hands all over his hairy butt cheeks down to his hole.

I finally start jerking his dick that’s now throbbing so bad it immediately leaks.

“Mr. Thomas, you’re such a beautiful man. I love the way your cock feels, I love your hairy ass, your big feet, ohhhh… your dick is about to burst!”

“Oh god!!! This feels so goooooddd!!!”

I pull at his hair and start moaning incredibly loud.

“IM CUMMMMINNNNGGGGG FUUUUUUCCCC”

Cum sprays all over me and I’m covered in his cum. I take bit off of his chest and taste it.

“Yum!”

I lay back in his bed naked and grinning knowing that in a few hours I’m going to do it all over again.

#male tf #body swap #male body swap

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leaawrites · 8 months ago

Text

I knew it, I know you

Lando Norris x fem!reader

summary: two people reflecting - and drowning in sorrow - on their lost almost.

Warnings: mentions of suicidal thoughts, angst, nothing about this is really happy tbh

Masterlist

It had been 2 months. 2 months since all the pining and longing and dancing around each other finally found an end. It was the end of something that was never more than considering but still bigger than nothing. It was what happened when two broken souls found another one. Too afraid to heal and too hopeful to let it go before it could begin. They were always at the starting line never beginning to run. And when she did. She was left alone. He didn’t run with her. His eyes focusing on the win, planning strategies on what may be and what may be not. It was more than nothing but never enough.

Now she held herself at night, his face on her TV, far away. She was focusing on him, never stop cheering and praying to see him succeed. There was always something that made him crumble in the end. Whether it be the car or strategy, he blamed it on him. He had done it ever since she told him that it was his fault they could never work out. It was never the outside world or the misplaced bodies of theirs in time. It was him. He didn’t run, he planned.

Now he sat alone in his big apartment in this big city, filled with glamour and luxury and nothing but his own breathing. It was the purest thing he owned now, after losing what he never truly had. It was only one step he should’ve taken and he couldn’t bring himself too. Everything was shallow now, eating up his insides until no emotion but guilt was left. He hated that he let her go. He hated that he was afraid of real life like some kind of moron in a novel. The one who would end up all alone at some point.

The room was dark and stuffed with thoughts and hot air. The blanket on his bed was wrinkled and tossed around. He hadn’t even found the motivation to make his bed that morning. Going to races for the last 3 weeks was what made his mind walk away from her for a while, but now that it was over it was only him now.

The doorbell rang, making him open his eyes. Lando made his way towards the door, opening it to see Max standing on the other side with food in his hand. The man wore a sympathetic look on his face. He was the only person who knew about what happened. He was the only person who knew about her.

“Thought you might be hungry,” he said, holding up the food in hopes of making him smile at least a little bit. But there was nothing coming from Lando.

He only stepped away to let him in, walking to the coach to sit on it and turn on the TV. Some crappy Reality show was playing but Lando wasn’t paying any mind to it.

“How have you been?” Max asked, sitting down next to Lando, pushing the food in front of his face so he couldn’t ignore it.

Taking the fork in his hand, Lando started to move the Chinese dish around in it’s box. Watching it move like it would satisfy his hunger enough to not eat it.

“Wonderful,” he said quietly, sarcasm dripping from his tongue like water. “Though about throwing myself from the balcony.”

If it was anyone else, Lando wouldn’t have said it. But it was Max, his best friend since childhood. He knew about Lando’s mental health, he knew that it was horrible at times. Though it was never this far, at least not to his knowledge.

“Have you tried talking to her?” He wasn’t aware of what happened fully, but he knew enough to be sure that Lando could fix it. It only needed him to work. It only needed him to find itself again.

“She blocked me everywhere,” Lando only said, avoiding a clear answer of yes or no.

He had tried, multiple times. He even called her mother, but no one was willing to let him in again. They were hiding her away from his shining sword and he understood why. But he hated that they were that way. He hated that he was that way.

“Look, man,” Max started. P, his girlfriend, had told him to go back to the secret plan. “P has been keeping contact with her. She is really not happy about how things ended, but she misses you. She really does. So, if you’re willing to make it work this time - for real this time - I’ll give you her address and you can decide what to do with it.”

Lando looked at him with wide eyes, his heart leaping from his chest to hug his mate.

“You’re willing to do that?” Lando asked, sitting up straighter now and turning towards him.

“If you eat up,” Max joked, playing parent for him.

“But then?”

“If you don’t mess it up.”

#lando norris x you #lando norizz #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando norris #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 grid x reader #dark academia #lando x reader #lando nowins #formula one #f1 fanfic #f1 fic

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rileyslibrary · 2 years ago

Note

hii, i love your page, it’s so cute!! i was just wondering, can we have a fic where ghost/the 141 forgets the readers birthday?

tysm,

~ 💖.

A/N: Apologies for the delay, anon! Also, I hope that didn't happen to you, but if it did, happy belated birthday. Here’s your gift, I hope you like it.

———————————————————————

Type, type, type.

That’s all you’ve been doing since this morning.

Replying to emails, developing the recruits’ training programme for the next week, preparing reports, and going back and forth on that group chat with the engineering team about that stubborn drone that refuses to take off but is mandatory for the next mission.

They wished you a happy birthday. Yes, it was through a faceless and impersonal message, but at least they did.

Unlike him.

He’s been sitting across from you all day, doing the same—typing, typing, typing.

Not at the pace you’ve been going, though. He’s much slower compared to you.

His fingers hesitate as they hover across the keyboard, lacking the speed and confidence he usually has in the field. The keyboard feels foreign in his hands—it’s not an MP5, you see.

His eyes, trained for action, struggle to adjust to the screen in front of him. He types, pauses, looks up at the screen, and then resumes typing. Yet his posture remains rigid like he’s ready for action at any given moment.

“Do you need help?” you ask, noticing his struggle to find the right shortcut for copying and pasting.

“I need a cigarette,” he replies, standing up from his chair. He opens the window, turns his back to you, and lifts his mask halfway.

He opens the packet and bites down on the cigarette filter to extract it from the package. Tilting his head to the side, he lights it up and takes a deep inhale.

There’s a knock on the door.

“Shit.” He swears and shouts at the door to “wait a fucking minute.”

He extinguishes the cigarette, pulls down his mask, and returns to his desk. You wait for him to sit down before inviting the person outside to come in.

Two recruits currently assigned to your team enter the room.

“Happy birthday!” says one, and the other repeats the wishes more timidly.

You give them a warm smile and thank them.

Their eyes, however, often drift from you to him. They look like they regretted coming into the office. Like they’d rather be anywhere else but here.

You empathise with them—you, too, were scared of him when you first came to the base.

You decide to relieve them of their discomfort.

“There are cupcakes in the kitchen,” you say, “please help yourselves.”

You can’t tell if they are too excited about the cupcakes or relieved that they now have a reason to escape the trap they’ve gotten themselves into. With a nod, they quickly exit the room and shut the door behind them.

You turn to the computer screen and continue typing.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You slightly turn your head towards him while keeping your eyes on the screen.

“Why didn’t I tell you what?”

“That the sky is blue,” he replies sarcastically. “That today’s your birthday, of course!”

“That’s not the kind of thing you go around telling people, Ghost,” you explain, “besides, you already knew.”

He stands up from his chair, and you turn to look at him.

“Why didn’t you remind me?”

“What should I say, Lt.?” You ask, “Hey, by the way, it’s my birthday today, in case you’ve forgotten?”

“Yes!” He insists, lifting his hands, “Yes, you should have told me that! Then you should have added a ‘you fucking idiot’ to complete the sentence.”

You look at him with furrowed eyebrows and a smirk.

He sighs and drops his hands to his sides.

“Come here,” he says, waving his hand for you to come closer.

You look at him, amused, and your smile widens. Yet you remain seated, and lean back to your chair.

“Come here!” He repeats and starts walking towards you.

You stand up, and he immediately wraps his arms around you, locking your arms to your sides. You hug his waist.

“Happy birthday,” he whispers and leans down, planting a kiss at the crown of your head.

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” you reply, your words muffled against his chest.

“I’m such an idiot, aren’t I?” He murmurs, his lips lingering against your head, “I’m sorry.”

You chuckle and push yourself away to look at him.

“No, you’re not,” you reply, “these things happen.”

He releases you from the hug but keeps his hands on your shoulders.

“Thanks for the cupcakes, by the way.”

“You had one?”

“Two,” he says, letting you go and returning to his desk, “but I didn’t know who they were from.”

You sit back in your chair and continue to type, type, type.

But this time, there’s a smile on your face.

———————————————————————

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x gn!reader #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #cod ghost #ghost cod mw2 #ghost cod #ghost cod mwii #ghost call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2

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writingmeraki · 1 year ago

Text

gents in dilemma.

a park sunghoon drabble !

pairing : rich!boy!sunghoon x gn!reader, teasing classmates to ???

genre : fluff/humour (?)

warnings : nothing just sunghoon using his privileges as a pretty rich boy lmao also no actual knowledge os spider-man comics im sorry if it's inaccurate <3 !

author's note : wooo! a double update ?!? who is thisss mayhaps very random but i told ya'll ( if u read my recent mingu drabble ) it's been a while since i realeased anything enha :( this was sort of a warm up to get back into writing for them! if you have any ideas pls send them in!! i rlly want to write for them again hehe <3

sp dt to my enha moots ! @blue-jisungs ; @lheebra ; @haknom ; @odxrilove ; @hsgwrld ; @quaissants ; @enluv ; @hannie-dul-set ; @tqmies ; @byuqi ; @urszn ; @flwoie ; @tranquilpetrichor ; @hqrana ; @shuamorollss ; @strxwberry-skiess !! just to let you know i love u guys and think of you when i open this app 💌 !! i am ia a lot but i truly am grateful for you and your works 🩷!

word count : 1.2k

You were stuck there anyways. Your brother wouldn’t come pick you up earlier enough and all your friends left already so you found no point in wanting to leave and sit outside in the hot and humid weather where you’ll probably just end up with mosquito bites and sweaty skin.

The song played in your earphones as you lazily flipped through the Spider-man comic. It was your newest hyperfixation and you had difficulties getting copies but you were getting there.

Suddenly an intrusion popped in front of you as you got to the good part, but you paid no mind to whoever it was.

Besides, who in their right mind would want to make small talk with a stranger in the damned detention room?

The music was dull but you could hear the sound of someone clearing their throat. Sighing, you put down the comic and looked unamused at the boy in front of you.

Park Sunghoon. Rich, smart, pretty boy who lived up to all the stereotypes that clung to his personality while also hanging out with the same sort of people. Not a stranger you thought.

You wondered how you missed seeing him and…Park Jonseong? (If you remembered correctly) walk in. Perhaps you indeed were too focused in your daydreams.

Now amusement flickered in your gaze as you looked up at him.

He definitely did live to his pretty boy name you mused as you took in the moles on his face, the shade of his pink lips, the messy yet perfectly sitting hair of his.

He gulped under your calculating gaze, not knowing why he felt nervous all of a sudden when it was his idea to tell you not to say anything to Mr.Kim for when Jay and him would ditch the detention they got that day. He confidently told his friend he would threaten you if you didn’t comply, perhaps maybe bribe you a bit and surely it would do the trick.

But how his words seemed to bite right back at him because suddenly his mouth felt drier and tongue heavier under your gaze. For a brief moment, he wondered how he had never seen you, otherwise, he knew he wouldn’t be able to forget a face like yours.

“Now now,what ever have I done to have the Park Sunghoon right in front of me?” You grinned teasingly at him and fuck you had dimples. He swore he might have died in that moment and reached heaven.

He felt a shove that snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Uh-yeah um we- wait you know me?” You raised a brow at his words, the amusement only growing as you saw the tip of his ears getting red.

Was he flustered…by you?

“ ‘course I do, it would seem weird if I didn’t at least to you people.” You murmured the last part, darting your eyes to his friend who seemed to roll his eyes.You weren’t sure if it was because of you or because of Sunghoon.

“Can you get to the point idiot-”

“Hey! Shut up, yeah? I’m talking-”

“All I see is you acting like a huge fucking si-”

They whispered to each other, almost making you giggle at the way they both seemed to be arguing over something, you figured you were somehow involved.

“Well see- the thing is we’re going to ditch this.” You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, tilting your head a little as you leaned forward in your chair, placing your head on one hand.

“And? Does that concern me?”

“We don’t want you snitching, that’s what he meant. You can ditch too, Mr.Kim’s known for never coming back to his detentions once he leaves.”

You shook your head, “I’m fine here, I have to wait anyways, you can-”

Suddenly a thought occurred to you, “Hmm, the snitching on you both part sounds tempting, I might even get brownie points, struggling with his class anyways.”

No,he was not supposed to find your smirk cute, nor the mischievous glint in your eyes.

“What’s in it for me?”

“Wha- what’s in it for you?! You can ditch too! Didn’t I say that already-”

“Wait. I might have something.”

Jay stared at Sunghoon in both disbelief and annoyance while you looked at him curiously. He set his bag down and opened it, pulling out something.

“Here.”

You couldn’t believe your eyes. The newest edition of the Spider-man series. You’d been trying for ages to get it, but held yourself back when you saw the triple digit price point.

Of course he’d have this.

You gasped in disbelief, looking in awe as you grabbed it and flipped through the pages. Sunghoon found it absolutely cute the way your eyes lit up.

He was concerned about how enduring he already found you in the span of approximately 10 minutes.

“It’s too expensive, I can’t-”

“Who said I am giving it to you? I’m letting you borrow it so you won’t rat us out.”

It seemed the tables turned and it was your turn to be flustered under his teasing gaze and he did in fact have a cute grin. Shit-eating one but adorable.

“I’ll take it to my grave.” You hugged the comic to your chest and did a zipping your mouth motion, throwing away the pretend key. He let out a chuckle at your actions and the sound absolutely did not do something to your heart ( You think it might have burst ).

Jay had been observing the interaction and he knew why exactly Sunghoon did what he was doing. Seems like the supposed ‘ice’ prince was melting at your mere presence. Oh he was so going to spill everything to the rest of his friends and tease him for the life of it.

Sunghoon’s gaze moved towards your phone, seeing it was still unlocked he took it while you yelped in alarm, “Hey! I said I won’t say anything!”

You had stood up from your chair and now only realised just how much taller he was than you when he began to type something with his hands raised above you.

“Here. My number and I rang it to have yours. Call me when you’re done reading, I expect to get my comic back soon enough.” He held your hand and plopped your phone in it, while you remained frozen at his bold moves. Even the blonde next to him was surprised at his actions, that probably said a lot to you.

He swung his arm around Jay who had an amused grin as he shook his head, waving bye to you, pausing for a moment when he realized something as he looked back at you.

“What’s your name?”

“Uh-oh um,” You were still in a trance at what just happened as you said your name, not as confidently as you wished and you cursed yourself mentally for already being so hung up on his actions.

He repeated it as if testing it out, “See you soon then,” He grinned at you as you just chose to wave back, thinking you might just say something stupid.

Looking down at your phone, you saw his number and back at the comic book that laid on the desk, you grinned bashfully, shaking your head as you laughed.

Maybe just maybe, Park Sunghoon wouldn't have to wait until you finished the comic for you to see him.

all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri. do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest.

feedback is always appreciated 💌

links : main navi ! | enhypen masterlist !

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spectoo · 1 month ago

Text

tuna mayo ! miya osamu

chapter two – another atsumu?

wc 1419

MDNI.

if you'd like to join the taglist , please fill out this form !

15:11.

You were currently 7 hours and 11 minutes into your 8 hour shift.

Earlier in the day, Miya Atsumu went on the MSBY Black Jackals official Instagram account (with over 7 million followers, mind you), and posted a picture of a meme of Seong Gi-hun on the account's story.

Even though it was only up for 3 minutes, a few news pages, including TMZ Japan, posted about it on their accounts, basically making fun of the whole ordeal.

MSBY’s social media supervisor, Suzuki Dai, called an emergency meeting for everybody who worked in public relations to “talk” about this situation.

Earlier, 08:29.

You, and your coworkers were all sitting in your respective chairs, with a white table in the middle. “Who even let this happen?! Do you all not understand how embarrassing this is for us, as a professional volleyball team?!?!”

You gave one of your coworkers, Yamamoto Akane, a ‘whatthefuck’ look, but that didn’t go unnoticed by Suzuki. “Is there something funny, [L/N]?!” Returning your focus to him, you respond with a shrug, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, don’t act dumb! I saw you give a look to Yamamoto!” He retorted. “If you want to say something, then say it now.”

You already knew this was going to be a long day, and this yelling just wasn’t helping anything.

“What’s your deal, Suzuki? Can you stop aiming your anger at me?” You hissed back, crossing your arms. “Everybody who’s talking about this situation isn't insulting our professionalism. If anything, it’s making our social media more popular.”

He put both of his hands on his desk. “I don’t CARE if it’s making us popular, we are still getting made fun of!”

You raised an eyebrow, and tilted your head a little bit to the right. “You– huh?” You pause for a second. “You don’t care if it’s making us–” You cut yourself off, and leaned back in your seat.

You knew better than to continue a conversation with stupid person.

Present time.

‘Ramen… no. Maybe yakisoba?’ You were in the middle of thought. Specifically about what to eat when your shift ends.

After the whole ordeal that happened, plus an apology, MSBY’s instagram account was up 15 thousand followers, which was very good in terms of gaining new fans. This caused you to become pretty carefree, well at least for the time being.

ding!

You’re snapped out of your thoughts as you pick up your phone and see who texted you.

You put your phone down, and wondered. ‘Am I even craving onigiri? … There’s another Atsumu?’ You visibly cringed.

15:59.

As you were walking to the employee room to clock out, you quickly texted Atsumu to tell him you’re on your way.

After swiping your badge, you headed outside and got in your car, letting out a really big sigh of relief. Today wasn’t the best day, but there’s always worse.

After a few moments of silence, you picked your phone up, and quickly went on Atsumu’s Instagram to see what his brother looked like.

Curiosity began to kill the cat.

You slid through some of his posts, containing MSBY pics, sponsorships, and finally, a picture of him and his brother from 8 months ago.

As you inspected that specific picture, you began to feel kind of… weird.

The picture was clearly taken after an MSBY game, with sweaty Atsumu on the left, and his brother, wearing a matching jersey, on the right. They were both smiling, while giving each other a side hug.

They looked extremely similar, but different at the same time. You just couldn’t put your finger on it.

You avert your eyes to your carplay screen.

16:05.

“Woops.” you muttered to yourself as you began typing in the directions to Onigiri Miya.

16:18.

You pull into the plaza where Onigiri Miya is located, and since the lunch rush was over, it wasn’t terribly crowded inside the shop. As you get closer to the store, you can see Atsumu and Hinata sitting at a table by the window, with the ginger wearing a white beanie, and the blondie wearing a brown snapback, backwards.

You park in a spot almost directly in front of the store, catching the attention of your friends. They begin to wave to you, and you can see Atsumu turn his head towards the kitchen, probably yelling something to someone.

As you exit your car and lock it, you immediately feel a sense of nervousness. Why were you feeling this? Was it due to being in a new place? Was it because you were about to meet Atsumu’s brother?

You quickly composed yourself and walked inside the door.

“Waddup, shawty?” Atsumu smiled as he got up from his chair, along with Hinata, and dapped you up.

“Hey, [L/N], how are you feeling?” Hinata gave you a side hug.

You let out a small giggle. “I told you earlier that I was fine, right? That basically means I’m also doing fine now.”

“Yeah, I know, but I felt b–” “‘SAMU! COME HERE AND MEET MY FRIEND!” Atsumu interrupted, turning his head to the kitchen once more. The small number of customers that were inside turned to your group, with weird looks.

As Atsumu grabbed both of your shoulders and dragged you to the counter, you gave Hinata an apologetic look, while he quickly dismissed it with a small wave.

“That was rude.” You pointed out to Atsumu, as he put an arm around your shoulder. He responded with a shrug. “‘SA–”

“‘Tsumu, stop. You’re gonna scare my customers away.”

You turn your head to see a tall, broad man walking towards the both of you. He was wearing a black compression shirt with a small onigiri symbol in the corner, black joggers, a gold waist apron, and a black baseball cap.

You took one look at this man, and immediately thought: ‘Oh. My. God.’ On the outside, you looked completely normal, just watching as Osamu walked towards you. On the inside, you’re lowkey kinda not really but in a way freaking the fuck out.

“Took ya long enough, damn it.” Atsumu grumbled to his twin as you were snapped out of your thoughts.

“Did ya forget I have a business ta’ run?” Osamu counters. After a small scoff was released, he averted his eyes to meet yours.

That’s when all of Osamu’s thoughts instantly shut down. This had never happened to him before. Of course he thinks some girls are very good looking, but he thought you were one of the prettiest girls he’s ever seen in his life.

His face somewhat softens as the both of you stare at each other with that same look in your eyes.

“Man, I don’t care!” Atsumu groans. “This is one of my friends–”

“I can introduce myself, Atsumu.” You say calmly as you remove his arm from your shoulder. You can still feel the gaze of the other Miya on you.

“I’m [Y/N] [L/N], nice to meet you.” You say as you bow politely. As you look up from the bow, you see him bowing to you, while his lips curve into a very small smile.

“Miya Osamu, nice to meet ya as well.”

As you both stand up straight, you catch a glimpse of Atsumu giving you a look. He knows how you act when you meet a really cute boy — relaxed, and (in your own words) as ‘cool as a cucumber.’

You avert your eyes to the menu, as both brothers continue to keep their eyes on you. “So uh…” You nudge Atsumu with a small mischievous grin growing, “You’re still paying for me, right?”

“Yep, whatcha’ gonna get?” he says, not catching on with what you’re about to do.

‘Umeboshi, Takana, Salmon… ah-ha.’

You look back at Osamu. “Ten tuna mayo onigiri, please.”

While Osamu raises his eyebrow in curiosity, Atsumu gives you one of the most disgusted looks ever. “What the HELL are ya gonna do with ten onigiri?!” He yells.

As you look back to Atsumu, you let out a sigh. “You’re right, my bad.” When you look over at Osamu again, you give him your updated order. “Fifteen tuna mayo onigiri, please.”

“FIFTEEN–” Atsumu stops himself from speaking as he begins to walk away from the register, with hands over his mouth and wide eyes. As you begin to laugh, you can hear Osamu let out a few small chuckles.

Damn, even his laugh was attractive.

authors notes !

𐙚 osamu is so sexy like literalllyyyy imagine him wearing a compression shirt , like wow . mind blown .

𐙚 reblogs are always appreciated 🫶🏼

𐙚 hope you enjoyed the chapter , reader-chan !

#haikyuu #spectoo #anime #18+ mdni #miya osamu #osamu miya x reader #sports anime #shounen #haikyuu time skip #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #miya osamu x reader #tuna mayo #tuna mayo by spectoo #msby black jackal #manga #hq x reader #hq x y/n

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sparklyoats · 9 months ago

Text

A fuckboy will always break your heart - Harry Styles.

Summary: Summary: Hooking up with one of your friends couldn’t possibly do much damage in the friend group, right?

Word count: 1.5k.

Wattpad.

Part one.

Life had continued on since the party and everything that went on there. Of course it had. I mean, why would the world stop just because I wasn’t feeling great ?

Even the weather had been great, lots of sunshine. Which was nice for my walks to and from work. But the lovely weather also brought along happy people. Happy, loving, friend groups, or couples. It was as if the universe was taunting me, laughing at me.

It had been a few weeks already. I hadn’t spoken to either of them. Sure they had tried to reach out. Mostly Sigrid, of course. It was as if she had no idea of what had went wrong. The first week she had messaged me as she normally would. Letting me know of all the drama that had went on, either at work or in the friend group. Not even once during that week had she even asked how I was doing or even wondered why I wasn’t responding. At least that’s how it seemed. It wasn’t until I sent a message back telling her I needed some space.

‘Wait. What. Why ?’ she had sent back.

I couldn’t even bring myself to tell her the truth. Eventually I just told her that work had been crazy lately. Because it had. But that obviously wasn’t why I needed space.

A few weeks ago she had been the wonderful host of a party for our friend group. I say ‘our’, but really it’s hers. I’m really only a part of it because of her. And of course, for someone that’s never really had more than one or two friends at the time, it was lovely to be part of. But now I was alone again.

The party had been good for me. The alcohol made me loosen up a bit, as it usually did. The dancing made me happy. But I had never thought the night would end the way it did. I had stayed back at Sigrid’s place as everyone else went out to continue partying. I had slept a bit it seemed, because at 3am I woke up in Sigrid’s bedroom. There had been some noise from the living room waking me up, and I had ventured out to see what it was. I had never in my wildest imagination though I would see what went on before me in that living room. Harry and Sigrid on the sofa, making out.

It had startled me, and in my panic I had left in a hurry.

Now it was a few weeks later and I finally felt ready to talk to Sigrid. I had had time to think, and came to the conclusion that I at least should let her know what was going on with and maybe even let her explain herself. Not necessarily for her sake, but i wanted to know. Had it been a spur of the moment thing, or had she had feelings all along. I needed to know.

So here I was, sat at a table for two outside of a café, waiting.

I had messaged Sigrid yesterday, letting her know that I wanted to see her. To talk. And she had agreed to meet.

I had already ordered a glass of white wine, half of it already drunken. Of course. I was nervous. Picking at my nails, and one of my legs was bouncing up and down slightly, as I awaited her arrival. As i picked up the wine glass to take another sip, i noticed her making her way towards the gate that lead in to the little garden space i was sitting in. She waved cheerfully with a grin as she made her way, zig zagging between the other tables, and eventually she made it to ours. “Hey gorgeous.” She said as she gave me a slight squeeze on my shoulder.

“Hi Sig.”

We sat in silence for a bit as Sigrid looked through the menu for a drink for herself.

“I will have the Rosé, please.” She told the waiter.

“And I will have another white, please.” I added.

As the waiter left with our orders, Sigrid took off her sunglasses and laid them neatly beside her purse on the table.

“So… How have you been?” She asked. I could tell she was nervous. Didn’t really know what to do or say. I was nervous as well. I had tried to think everything over in my head. Trying to figure out how to let it all out. To say it right.

“I have been okay… Life has been a bit busy lately… so… yeah…”

She looked at me, waiting for me to say more, but as I didn’t, she added.

“Yes, you mentioned…” With an annoyed expression on her face. It was always like this between us. At least when I wasn’t feeling well. I would go quiet and she would have to pry it out of me. It annoyed her. I knew that. And I really did try. Especially today.

“I saw you. That night.” I looked up at her to try and see how she would react. Confused, she said.

“What ? What night ?… can you please just tell me what it is ? Im not a fucking mind reader Y/n.”

Now I was annoyed. I knew she was right, of course I did. But it still annoyed me. I took a deep breath.

“I saw the two of you on the sofa that night. After your party… “ I said and looked down at my hands that were resting on the table yet picking away at the nail beds. I decided to take a sip of my wine, a big one, before carrying on.

“Remember the party you hosted ?” She nodded.

“Remember how I stayed back at your place to sleep as you all went out?” She nodded again.

“ Well, I woke up in the middle of the night to some noise coming from the living room, so I ventured out to see what it was. And that’s when I saw the two of you on the sofa making out. And i just… “

She interrupted.

“ Of course we were on the sofa. You were sleeping in my bed.” She said, grinning.

“What’s this got to do with anything?” She continued.

I looked at her, slightly surprised.

“Um, well… I mean… I just… I don’t understand why you would even do that in the first place… you knew I liked him… “

Now she was the one surprised.

“Who exactly do you think I was with that night, Y/n?” A small smile on her face letting me know that she knew exactly what I had been thinking. She continued

“I met that guy down at the pub, darling… maybe he looked similar to Harry in the dark. I don’t know. But I surely would never go after him. He is not my type at all and you should really know that by now.” She laughed. I joined her in laughing. My face red, either it be from blushing or the alcohol, I didn’t really know or care. “Oh my god… Sig, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. Just please don’t take so long to tell me… next time, I mean.” She said reassuringly.

“You got it.” We both raised our glasses and cheered. “So, do tell… What have you been up to these last few weeks?” I asked.

I felt so stupid to believe she would ever do something like that to me. I mean, this was Sigrid. My best friend since forever. The one who taught me basically everything. Okay, maybe not everything. But she’s always been there for me.

Sigrid had told me what else had went on after the group went out without me. Apparently Maria had gotten so drunk she had puked outside the pub as they got there, so they sent her home in a taxi. Not unusual of her, really. Also, Matthias and Lina had apparently hooked up. Surprisingly. But looking back, maybe not such a surprise after all.

The biggest surprise though was Harry. Apparently he had been quiet and moody the entire time. Why that was, Sigrid didn’t know. We both knew he could be like that sometimes, but no one ever really got him to talk about what was going on. He always either stayed quiet or pretended everything was okay and talked about anything else.

I suppose in that way we were quite similar.

“Hey Y/n… I have an idea.” She looked at me with an excited expression on her face. Oh dear, I thought. “Do tell…” I said rather comprehensive.

“Maybe it would be good for you to move on… don’t look at me like that, just hear me out.” She said. “I’m going to set you up on a blind date.” She said. “And it’s not up for a discussion.” She added. Blushing, I figured why the hell not. I raised my glass, “Cheers, to moving on.”

Authors note:

Thank you for reading! If you like my writing do feel free to reblog and like - and please let me know if you'd like a part three

Tag List:

@jaded-and-hollow-souls @scorpiotulipicon @lomlhstyles @gem1712 @tylerstacobell @happypoptart @behindmygreyeyes @mysteriouslydecaffeinatedfox @luvingthingstherightway @thiyaabs @be-with-me-so-happily @blepskies @abihst91

#my writing #bells be writing #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #hs imagine #hs fic #hs fanfic #hs fanfiction

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prettyboykatsuki · 9 months ago

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i've been very far home, my heart | nightowl (blooming panic)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ tags; established relationship, hurt/comfort, feelings of inadequacy / low self worth, gn!reader (they wear heels and have manicured nails, but otherwise nondescript. no gendered language), role reversal, arguing / messy human behavior, suggestive towards the end, they are implied to be the same height 🫡

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ wc ; 3.7k (added 500 to wc in editing. ok)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ a/n ; bro idk what happened here FDHJDKDKJ. my sleep meds were making me feel super hungover, i got a little cooked on the devils lettuce and then wrote this?? and it wasn't bad lmaoaoa??

i really like this blonde twink ive known for three days. he is like. so extremely, hilariously my type and exactly like several ppl i've dated so this end up being a reflective piece on being a giver n navigating adult relationships.

title is from where we go by jelani aryeh

The bathroom light is on.

It’s spilling underneath the door frame when you come in from work later than usual. It’s busy season, with new clientele - all of which require socializing around drinks and expensive dinners to secure them. It’s nearly 1am, and you’ve taken two Ubers to get back home from the restaurant all the way across town that you’ve been mingling at since nine.

You closed the deal though, and your boss (perhaps seeing the visible exhaustion in your eyes) has given you the go-ahead on taking a few days off. The consulting part of your financial advising job could wait until Monday, which was a relief to hear. You came home expecting Nightowl to be up. He’s always up this late, and when he is - he rarely limits himself to one room in the apartment. You have a routine to it. You sleep in the dark bedroom and Owl tries not to make so much noise as to wake you.

You texted him you’d be late, and he’d read it but didn’t reply. Too worn down to think anything of It at the time, you slept on two car rides rather irresponsibly and were unsure of what to feel when your apartment didn’t have any lights from the outside upon arrival. Youwalked in after that, wondering if your eyes had been playing tricks. But the house was still dark, both upstairs and down stairs - in the bedroom and in the office. The only place you could find any trace of life was in the bathroom.

You’ve only left your bag on the couch downstairs. Worry makes your brows furrow as you turn the door knob to your shared bathroom and walk in. The clinical scent of bleach is the first thing to grasp your senses, jolting you awake from the haze of steam and leftover buzz of alcohol.

You cough a little, and find Nightowl on the bathroom floor. There’s a bottle of peach soju on the counter, and a few open packets of developer and mixing bowls. Owl is drunk already you think, or at the very least tipsy, moreso than you. The hot blush on his skin makes you think he’s been at it for a while. You try not to monitor his liquor intake too much, but the concern you feel is immediate and not helped by where you find him.

His body is slumped against the gray wall closes to the tub, sitting on the tile with a different bottle in his hand. His phone is face down beside him and he’s not noticed you come in. Your frown deepens as your heels click slightly on the tile. Crouching down at the knee, you reach your hand out for his forehead. His skin is so hot it’s scorching. You sober up almost instantly.

Even in his inebriated state, he seems to recognize you. His smile is wide, but you don’t feel like it reaches his eyes.

“Oh, so you decided to come home after all!”

You smile sadly followed with a curt nod. “Sorry.”

“Don’t really see what the point is in you apologizing when you’ve already been so late,” He says jovial. You try not to let it sting. You remind yourself that he’s drunk and stifle a sigh again. “But welcome home!”

“Were you gonna bleach your hair?”

“Isn’t that obvious?”

“Yeah,” You reply, choosing to sigh that time. His lip wobbles a little and you try not to say anything more. “Do you want help?”

“Sure. Whatever.”

You mumble something about being right back and Nightowl hums in affirmation. A feeling washes over you. Bone-deep exhaustion crushing your lungs and making you wheeze when you step out of the bleach-scented bathroom. When you’re distance enough away that he won’t hear you - closer to your bedroom door, you breathe in and out, calming yourself down. After you feel more centered, you open your shared room door and take a stool from along the wall, bringing it with you into the bathroom. Nightowl doesn’t turn his head to look at you until you place it. Sharing a glance with each other, he gets up on his own and sits himself on the placed stool dramatically and you give him a weak smile through the mirror he doesn’t bother returning.

You’re quiet as you leave the door open a touch to make sure the steam doesn’t overheat you both. Shrugging off your suit jacket, you fold it and hang it on the towel racks behind you. You unbutton your sleeves and roll them into neat folds on both arms, and before digging into one of your bathroom drawers for plastic gloves. Sliding them onto your manicured fingers, you pick up the bowl of developer from the side of the counter and mix it using the provided brush until it’s all smooth.

Nightowl is unusually silent through the entire thing. If he weren’t fidgeting, you could barely tell he was there. It’s so difficult to see him that way. You try not to blame yourself too much.

“Gonna start,”

“Uh-huh,”

A longing passes over you in the warm, sterile air. The coolness from the A.C. in the rest of your apartment dries down the sheen of sweat your accumulated while out socializing. Your feet are killing you and your shoulders are aching and your lungs feel like you can’t get enough air out of them. That’s busy season for you. The price of your job with all of it’s stability and benefits is the annual stretch of months where you are so busy you feel like you are drowning.

It’s one thing to be so mind-numbingly busy when you’re single and only worried about not dying. Another though to have a partner waiting for you, who you love and would like to be with - who you’ve admittedly not done well in paying attention to. You’ve tried you think. Made some attempts, but it doesn’t feel good enough and it certainly isn’t enough for Nightowl. You know that, too. You look down at where your hands are applying the bleach, dazed - using only muscle memory to apply it to the roots and strands of his hair. You want to touch him. To press kisses into his spine, drunk and elated, and press your cheek to his shoulder and confess your undying love until he’s giggly all over again.

The thought of adoration soothes you. Makes you smile to yourself even amongst the unforgiving atmosphere. Nightowl doesn’t care for that, his face growing even more frustrated.

“Thought of something fun? Glad at least one of us is having a good time.”

Your eyes meet his in the mirror. He looks away when he sees how pained you look, and you shut your eyes trying not to react. “Sorry.”

“Stop saying that,” He frowns, though he seems more sad than you.

“S—“ You clear your throat and laugh humorlessly at yourself. “Okay,”

You go about your business. Many things cross your mind but you can’t wrangle your thoughts into anything cohesive enough to say. Your jaw tightens a little, like your mouth wants to practice syllables it can’t remember. The distraction of rubbing bleach into Nightowls roots is welcome. His hair is a lot healthier than it used to be, after a year of forcing him to use hair masks. You admire as you brush through the strands, and Nightowl seems to lost in his own thoughts to say anything in protest. He probably hates this silence more than you. He’s uncharacteristically stiff, and there’s no smalltalk to distract from the surroundings.

You’re not feeling well enough to try and remedy it. Allowing yourself to stonewall and sit in the discomfort is about as much as you can do to reach a hand to your relationship. You probably can’t make it better, but you can do your best not to make it any worse.

“All done,” You mumble, just loud enough for him to hear. You slide the gloves off and toss them into the trash “We should sober up before bed. Hangover before bed sounds awful. Did you,” You hiccup. “Want some?”

He doesn’t reply to you. You press your lips into a flat line, feeling somewhat sorrowful but ultimately resigned. “I’ll make some anyway. And set a timer too while I’m down there. Just, uh - join me. When you’re done here.”

Before you turn to leave, he grabs your wrist. You’re taken aback by the sudden gesture (though there’s not force in it), turning around to look at him. His face is red. Wet tears pool on the corners of his straight, black lashes. Blinking a few times in surprise, you reach your hand to wipe them from the corners. Muscle memory. You find your love for him defined that way. He doesn’t flinch away from the touch, at least.

“Don’t you have something to say to me,” He insists. You frown in genuine confusion, a sad smile pulling at your mouth.

“Thought you told me to stop saying sorry,” You repeat with no malice, smiling a little. “That’s all I’ve got though.”

His lower lip trembles again and you try not to laugh. “God. How could you be so. God.” He sniffles a little. “You could cuss me out. Or like, I dunno, just get mad in general. You’re supposed to be mad, I was,” He cuts himself off.

You laugh a little tiredly, bending down to press your forehead to his. The flush of his skin against your own makes your heart murmur his name. “I don’t have anything to say, my heart.” You assure, smiling. “We’re both pretty tired. But I have tomorrow off. Let’s cool off and talk tomorrow. “Okay?”

“Okay,” He says back, still simmering. “As long as you’re here tomorrow.”

Your heart stings. “For the next two days, promise. I’ll toss my work phone if you want.”

He cracks a smile like that. “Might have to take you up on that, cutie.”

The familiar nickname eases you a bit, making you laugh. “Whatever you want.”

Morning comes unyielding and indifferent, like always.

Sunlight filters through the curtains as your eyes peel open and try to get adjusted to the light. There’s a weight on top of you, and the sound of steady breath. Another heartbeat thumps alongside yours and before you can make much sense of it - you catch the freshly yellow blond roots of your lover as he lays on your chest.

You went to bed last night not even facing each other. The image of him reaching around for you in his sleep and ending up in your arms feels like divine intervention. You admire how perfectly he fits there. Your eyes trace of his features. Thick, straight brows, skin like light gold, a straight nose and full lips. The shock of blonde suits him strangely, makes the dark lines of his other features pop. It’s rare you get to look at him so closely, even more so lately.

The intimacy of his flaws makes your stomach flutter, texture in his skin and eyebags and all. You crane your neck to kiss his hairline and think about returning to sleep in the cocoon of warmth. The cradle of soothes you, makes your eyelids heavy with sleep again. You think it’d be nice to sleep in more, but you don’t want to squander anymore time with Nightowl. Shifting, you pry yourself away from his grasp and tuck him into blankets. You’ll wake him later.

You’re quiet as you tiptoe around the house and get your affairs in order. The bathroom first to shower and brush your teeth, then downstairs to start on breakfast. You take the ritual of it to calm down and ease the leftover nerves of your stomach. It was better to save any conversation for sobriety - so you don’t regret it. Still, you feel a fear lingering. A nagging voice in the back of your head as you flip pancakes and cut fruit and pour juice.

The eerie silence of Saturday morning pushes you to reflect. It’s rare you fight like this. Even more rare that Nightowl reverts to that kind of angriness, which is why you find you can’t get upset. Not even the sound of sizzling and frying can keep your mind from wandering.

Inadequacy is familiar. An old winter jacket, too sizes too small and ill-fitting but full of your own personhood. One of the things you and Nightowl bonded over a long time ago.

You did well in school, in college, made a career for yourself. It’s making up for the rest of you, you think.

At least you’re good at your job, even if the rest of you is not worth mentioning. The ghost of feeling like you are, in some basic and intrinsic way, not good enough likes to shake you every now and again. Not friend, nor partner. It’s not something you easily get rid of, despite how far you’ve grown past it. Or around it. Or ahead of it. Wherever you’ve ended up, occasions come that knock the feeling loose from your deepest memories. You work hard to cover for it.

You like to logic your way out of the guilt when you’ve poured so much into it and people drift. A self-fulfilling prophecy. Usually that works. Tuck your emotions into neat compartments, throw yourself further into your work, don’t drink too heavily or be alone with anyone for too long. Ignore everything, do it by yourself so you’re still worth something, wait until it’s over. Eventually it all comes to pass, and you come out of the other end alive - but alone.

You can’t do that anymore though. It’s hard to remember that. Isolation is no longer the answer, because there is someone (multiple people, really) who will feel lonely without you. Even if it’s unfathomable to you, even if it’s hard to remember. The consequences creep up like this, and your left with the emotional void of making a bad situation worse. Sorry is the only word you know. There are so many things to be sorry for.

You’re so lost in thought you burn a pancake and have to toss it. You also seem to miss the presence of another person in your shared space until Nightowl comes and wraps his arms around your shoulders. Turning the heat down, you shift to face him. He looks exhausted but he must’ve come down after washing up.

“You’re awake.”

“Mhm.” He says, still sleepy. A smile pulls at the corners of your mouth. “So are you. And you’re making me breakfast.”

You laugh. “I am. So, go sit down.” And then, a little more serious. “We have a lot to talk about but I’d rather do it on a full stomach.”

“We’re in an argument and you’re still taking care of me.” Sadness bleeds into his words.

You reply without skipping a beat, going back to the stove to pour some more batter. “Well, its not like I don’t love you anymore.”

There’s a long, long pause of silence that alarms you once you recognize it. Once you hear sniffling, you whip around again to see Nightowl weeping a little as he leans against the counter. Alarms go off in your head, once again turning the stove down. You wrap your arms around his waist loosely, bending down to get a closer look at him. He’s cover his face with his hands.

“Ugh,” His voice is thick and heavy. “Can you not be so nice and perfect and angelic? I’m trying really hard to be mad at you and I’m failing like a loser.”

You can tell there’s some sincerity in his words, though you ignore the first half of his statement. “I don’t want to make you feel bad.”

He pulls away then, looks at you incredulous. “You’re so,” His hands curl at your chest as you hug him slightly. You’re confused but don’t say anything. “God, you’re so frustrating.”

“Sorry,” You say apologetically. “Don’t mean to make you cry either. Feel like I’m going that a lot. We should really eat.”

“Don’t want to,” He whines a little as he says. “Just. I want to kiss and makeup already.”

You smile a little before humming.

“We should talk about it, then.”

Nightowl just nods, and you take that as permission to just go. You do your best to get the words out.

“I really love you,” You say first, and then sigh. Nightowl clings onto you tighter and listens instead of interjecting, which must mean he’s feeling serious. “And uhm, was already feeling bad about myself. And then I got busy which made it worse cause I couldn’t really you know… be there for you, so I ended up pulling away to figure it out alone and then got even busier. Which was isolating for you, and I’m sorry for that. It’s hard to like.. I dunno. Lean on you. On anyone.” You laugh a little. “Is that too vague?”

“It makes sense to me but…what were you feeling bad about, even?”

“Well I was busy before that, so I just felt shitty about being a bad partner to you. In general, don’t feel like I deserve you but then you know,” You sigh “It was shitty of me.”

“Are you kidding me?” He says. His face is twisted in a pout. “You’re seriously being all mopey ‘cause you think you’re a bad partner when you’re like… literally the best ever? Like, that I’ve ever had?”

You’re too surprised to say anything. “Is that not why were arguing?”

“I mean,” His frown deepens, and he presses his face against your chest. “Ugh. So embarrassing. I am upset because you’re so busy and we haven’t spent time together but that’s like… totally not your fault, yknow? I’m being super clingy and I was just… really lonely yesterday.”

“Sorry for making you feel lonely.”

“Stop apologizing or I’m gonna bite you, ‘kay cutie?” He says seriously. You relent with a worrisome smile and encourage him to keep going. “I was getting like… all pathetic. Cause I thought you didn’t want me anymore, didn’t even occur to me something was wrong. I’m so sorry about that, about all of it - god. I shouldn’t have lashed out on you. I hate that it still gets so bad when we've been together so long. I just missed you so fucking much. And I think so highly of you, I couldn’t help but be all torn up about the idea that you were pulling away cause you didn’t want me.”

“I do want you. I’m just surprised you want me sometimes.”

“You’re dumb,” He whispers with no bite at all. “That’s my line. You’re like literally perfect to me.”

“So we got in a fight ‘cause we needed to be with each other,” You say with a long pause, then laugh. “How silly.”

“Guess so,” He says back with a little frown. “Are we okay?”

“We’re okay,”

You share a brief moment of comfortable, understanding silence. It feels easier to breathe. Even though it’s messy and foolish, you love being with him. It makes you feel real and whole - wanted to be missed that much.

“I missed you too by the way,” You reply with utmost sincerity. “Only thing I thought of all night was how much I wanted to hold you.”

“You’re making me blush.” He says with a loopy little smile. “Y’mean that?”

“More than anything.” You reply. “I like being with you. I like taking care of you. I like that you’re needy and jealous and temperamental.”

“Stopppp,” He groans and you laugh aloud, leaning forward to place a kiss on his jaw. “Not that I hate being told what you like about me but it’s making my tummy flutter.”

“I like loving you,” You say with some finality. “I feel really shitty when I feel like I’m failing at it because I take pride in being good at that.”

“Jeez,” His face is bright pink when you pull away. “You shouldn’t think of yourself so little, yanno? Not that this is a surprise but yesterday I was like, totally acting awful to you. I really am sorry I let it get that bad, I was just really worked up. Even right now you make me so happy, it feels a little unfair to me. I want to be with you all the time. So sometimes when I can’t I just get like… awful. And stupid. And want to throw a bunch of dumb tantrums about it.”

You nod in understanding. “It did hurt my feelings but I really didn’t feel like it was undeserved.”

“It was totally undeserved!”

You crack a little smile. “Agree to disagree?”

He grabs your face with both hands, knocking your foreheads together. “It was undeserved, no take backs. I’m sorry I hurt you and always will be. Stop being so nitpicky about yourself, kay? I’m literally crazy about you.”

“Me too,” You crane your neck to kiss his palm where it cradles your face. “I adore you, baby.”

“I like being adored by you,” He says with a sweetness that makes your heart melt. “I like loving you too of course, but attention is… nice. You know.”

He makes a face at you as you say this that you can only describe as a grin, before pushing himself forward to press a long kiss to your lips. You laugh a little into, smile splitting your face at the intensity he kisses you at first thing in the morning. Over and over, pulling and pushing - giggling as you chase his mouth as he pulls away.

“We kissed but I dunno if we’ve made up,” He says. Concern briefly passes over your expression. “Got some really good ideas about how we could do that.”

You give him a flat look but can’t contain your laughter.

“We should really eat breakfast,”

He puts a hand at the top of your waistband with lidded eyes and smiles. “There’s something else I wanna eat first though?”

You pretend to be exasperated.

“Jesus. We just made-up and you wanna fuck already?”

“Duh. That’s like, the best part,”

You snort. “We’ll go once and then I’m making you eat breakfast even if I have to force it down your throat.”

“Ooh, feeling rough I see,”

You snort. “Yeah, guess so.” You shoot him a little look, leaning into whisper and nip at his ears. “On your knees for me, baby.”

He giggles a little, giddy with mischief in his face. “Mmkay,”

He presses a cheek to your clothed thigh, lovesick. “I love you,”

You can’t help but laugh at his choice of when to say it and simply reply back in full adoration. “I love you too, my heart.”

a/n ; ANOTHER AUTHORS NOTE? sorry for being the ceo of yapping im insane

i just want to like. give some insight on this fight bc im worried it seems onesided. reader has low self esteem and really beats themself over their own expectations in everything. they isolate when they're overwhelmed and work was already doing that to them. and then things got busier, which meant there wasn't really time to repair the relationship between them which is why nightowl gets as mad as he does.

nightowl is deathly afraid of being unloved and abandoned, and he get a little caught up in his self hate that they fail to realize something is going on with their partner. so he lashes it out and it feels warranted but he gets like guilty bc reader doesn't react to the goading any differently

i think nightowl is a very complicated but incredibly familiar character. he's a little selfish but i find him incredibly endearing and i have a strong desire to dote on him and monopolize him. which was the intent for this fic. but i ended up just exploring real life relationship dynamics between a character like this. very selfless x selfish. they love each other and find fulfillment in this. i love them.

#nightowl x reader #blooming panic x reader #bloomic x reader #nightowl bp x reader #writing tag #this is literally so random #idk what tag ettiquette is for this? bc the game is self insert so i feel like tagging with main tags is probs fine but its riskyyy lmao #nightowl blooming panic

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