#but now there's no more to look forward to

[onlymingyus]

Let Me Hear You Say...

pairing; kim mingyu x f reader

genre; smut (minor dni), heavy angst, fluff, toxic, ranch au, brothers best friend au

summary; Your brother calls you home and you quickly remember why you left the ranch in the first place. At least the scenery got a lot more handsome with the ranch foreman, Kim Mingyu at his side.

content warnings; death of a family member, family trauma, older brother!seungcheol, lawyer!reader, ranch hand/foreman!mingyu, ranch hands – jun/soonyoung/chan, arguing, crying, toxic family relationship, eating/drinking, rich reader & seungcheol, physical fight, blood, bruises. i know nothing about how an estate actually works and that shows but i did my best. (Patreon has it’s own warnings)

smut warnings; unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, oral (f receiving), mingyu is able to carry the reader (strength kink), pet names.

w/c; 28.8k and some change (including Patreon bonus)

a/n; thank you to my june for proofreading. i love you sugar butt. i hope you guys like this one. its very much self serving. i mean come on… it’s mingyu and its ranch au (im as southern as southern can be). thank you for reading my loves!

before continuing remember reblogs are incredibly important and please read how to support me here

“She’s here for how long?” 

Lifting two of the suitcases, Mingyu grunts at the weight of the one in his left hand before tilting his head in disbelief as Seungcheol takes out two more suitcases from the back of his SUV. 

“Uh… I don’t know. A couple weeks? Maybe longer. However long it takes to work through the paperwork and shit.” 

Mingyu had never met you, but he had heard plenty of stories about the infamous baby Choi. While Seungcheol had stayed home and learned the ropes from your father—eventually taking on the ranch—you had other plans. 

Leaving Montana in your rearview mirror, you headed for New York, went to school, got your law degree, and were on your way to making partner at one of the most elite practices in the city. Everything got put on hold with a single phone call from your brother asking you to come home, sorrow in his voice as he struggled through having to tell you the news both of you had been dreading for a while—your father had passed away. That had been a few months ago. You both had survived the funeral but now the hard stuff was keeping you both from moving on so you found yourself back.

“Put your back into it, Gyu. They can’t be that heavy. You throw hay daily, and now you’re whining over a suitcase?” 

Mocking Seungcheol’s teasing, Mingyu follows behind him with a grunt as he lifts your bags, making his way into the large main house where you already were. "Yeah, well, hay weighs less than this shi—” Feeling his words get caught in his throat as he moves into the living room, meeting your eyes for the first time, Mingyu swallows hard and watches as Seungcheol puts what he was carrying down before moving to pull you into a tight hug. God, you were pretty. Mingyu didn’t know what he had been expecting. He had seen pictures of you, of course, but that was different than being in the same damn room as you. 

“Hey, squirt. How was the flight?” 

As much as you weren’t looking forward to being home, the comfort of a tight hug from your big brother was just what the doctor had ordered. Burying your face against his jacket, you sigh softly before taking in a breath, letting the warmth of his embrace wash over you before you finally take a step back and shrug, meeting Seungcheol’s eyes and feeling another set lingering on you. “Exhausting. Not even business class could make a five-hour flight bearable.” Finally looking past your brother, when you hear a set of heavier bags hitting the hardwood floor, you lift your brow, meeting the eyes of the other man curiously. “That’s Louis Vuitton.” 

Unsure if you are speaking directly to him, Mingyu glances behind him before lifting his hand to touch his chest and shaking his head. “Nah, Kim Mingyu.” 

Scoffing under your breath, you hear your brother chuckle before he shakes his head and gestures back to the man who had just introduced himself. 

“As the idiot said, he’s Kim Mingyu. He’s smarter than he seems, I promise. He just isn’t used to all your fancy shit, Y/N.” 

Forcing yourself to not roll your eyes, you move past your brother and towards Mingyu, who visibly takes a deep breath watching you lean down to your luggage. “Clearly. It rolls, Kim Mingyu, and Louis Vuitton is the name of the brand that made this luggage.” Pushing on the button to extend the handle, you let out a soft sigh on your breath as you stand back to your full height in front of Mingyu, meeting his eyes once again. “Thanks for bringing it in. Are you, like, my brother’s bestie or something?” 

You didn’t fit in at all. If it wasn’t for some family resemblance, Mingyu wouldn’t even know that you and Seungcheol were siblings. For one, you were gorgeous, and Seungcheol was Seungcheol, and for two, you were saying shit that was going over Mingyu’s head, making him smile like an idiot. “Bestie? Uh… I mean sure. We’re close, but I work here, Miss Choi.” 

A smirk pulls at your lips when you hear your brother curse under his breath in disbelief; meanwhile, Mingyu has sparked your interest in several ways. “You do? What do you do?” 

Realizing you hadn’t corrected him, calling you Miss Choi, Mingyu swallows hard, his smile fading only slightly as he puts on a confident facade, not wanting to let you get the better of him. “Yeah, um—all kinds of things. I’m the ranch foreman so I’m in charge of all the other ranch hands. Make sure they do their jobs—” 

“So then what does Cheollie do?” 

“Alright, that’s enough. Gyu, the boys should be back from fixing that fence up on the ridge. Make sure Chan puts shit back where it belongs.” Seungcheol had seen this song and dance with you before with other ranch hands when you lived at home or when you would come home during the summer. You had broken a few hearts and got yours broken a few times in the process. You were too important, and what Seungcheol needed you home for was too necessary for you to be mixed up with someone who didn’t know what they were getting themselves into. 

“Yeah, sure. I’ll talk to you later.” Nodding his head towards Seungcheol, Mingyu smiles softly before meeting your eyes and nodding his head again politely. “Ma’am.” 

Waving as Mingyu closes the large wooden door, you laugh under your breath hearing Seungcheol let out another exasperated sigh. “What? He’s cute.” 

“Leave him alone. He’s busy and he’s not used to girls like you.” 

Feigning shock, you pull the heavy bag behind you as Seungcheol lifts two of your bags, heading down the hall towards your bedroom. “Girls like me? What the fuck does that mean, Choi Seungcheol?” 

Your bedroom was much like it had been before you had left for university. You had changed things here and there, giving it a more grown-up feel, and yet every time you were back here, it felt like you were a teenager again. Watching Seungcheol put your bags at the end of your large bed, you narrow your eyes at him as he shakes his head to your question, finally turning to meet your eyes. 

“I don’t mean it bad. You are just... a lot. You never plan on sticking around so you tend to fuck with their heads. Can’t we just—” Sighing, Seungcheol moves towards you, putting his hands on your biceps as he offers you a smile. “Let’s just focus on getting the paperwork all worked out. Get this will shit out of the way and you can get back to doing whatever it is that you do.” 

Whatever it is that you do. Nodding along with Seungcheol’s words, you sigh before returning his smile, only strained. This was another reason you hated coming home. Seungcheol and your father had never understood why you had left home and done something different. You weren’t a ranch girl. You had a brain and you wanted to do something with it. It felt like to you that they only appreciated it when they needed it—like now. 

“Sure, whatever, Cheol. I’ll get it figured out for you, then get back to whatever it is that I do.” 

Mingyu enjoyed early mornings on the ranch. In his opinion, Montana sunrises were the prettiest thing that anyone could experience; at least they had been until he had seen you. There were things to get done—a literal laundry list of tasks that he had set in front of him for the day and yet as Mingyu walked with one of the horses next to him on a lead rope, he could only stare at you behind his sunglasses as you sipped your coffee on the patio while the sun rose behind you. This was his new favorite thing. 

One thing you had missed about being home was the quiet. The city, especially New York City, was anything but quiet. Leaning back in the chair, you sigh happily, feeling the coffee warm you from the inside out as you just enjoy the gentle breeze and silence. 

There weren’t too many people on the ranch to be up at this time. You had always been an early bird, usually beating your father and Seungcheol by an hour every day, but it seemed that the ranch foreman had a similar schedule as you. Lifting your hand from your coffee, you smile behind the cup when you catch Mingyu staring at you. It’s so obvious that he thinks that his sunglasses are hiding where he is looking when he looks startled by your sudden attention, turning his head back towards the horse stumbling over seemingly nothing in front of him. “Jesus… he is cute.” 

Clearing his throat, Mingyu opens the gate, unhooking the rope from the horse and patting on her side, guiding her inside the fenced-in area. He could almost feel your eyes on him still. You were brighter than the sun that was slowly rising and he knew he was going to have a hard time keeping his distance despite what Seungcheol had told him. 

‘She’s not here for long, Mingyu. ‘Sides… that’s my little sister, so clearly… off limits.’ 

You didn’t look so much like somebody’s little sister and it would be rude of Mingyu to avoid you the entire time you were home. Turning back towards the house, he lifts his hand in turn, waving back at you and watching a pretty smile spread across your face. God, he was in trouble. “Mornin’, Miss Choi.” 

Crossing your legs from one side to the other as you get more comfortable in the chair, you tilt your head, setting your coffee on the side table beside you as Mingyu makes his way towards you, wiping his hands off on his jeans. The ranch foremen in the past had never looked like this. They had always been grumpy old men picked by your father for their ability to keep the other hands in line, but clearly your brother had other things in mind when he picked Kim Mingyu for the job, and you weren’t complaining. He had to be what Taylor Swift was writing about when she won Grammys, as he strutted up in his tight blue jeans and tucked in a white t-shirt. 

“Good morning. You get started early. Coffee?” Gesturing to the glass carafe on the tray. You watch as Mingyu’s brows furrow behind his glasses before he nods, leaning to pick it up and study it as if it’s a complex piece of technology he’s never seen before. 

“Uh, yeah, sure. You pour your coffee into another pot before you drink it? That’s some fancy shit.” 

Unable to stop yourself from laughing, you offer Mingyu one of the extra cups from the tray as you shake your head, sitting back in your chair. “No, what are you talking about? Have you never had pour-over coffee before, Mingyu?” 

“Pour-over coffee? Can’t say I have, ma’am. I’ve had drip, gas station, and diner. They’ve never done me wrong.” Bringing the cup to his lips as he carefully sets the delicate glass pot back on the tray, Mingyu makes a bit of a face at the taste of the coffee before tilting his head as he sits down near you. “None of it quite tasted like this, though.” 

He was cute and funny. You had woken up dreading the day, but so far the company and the sky as the sun rose just behind you were worth the trip. “Yeah? That means you like it?” 

“It ain’t half bad. It sure ain’t gonna keep me going—not strong enough for that, but it tastes good.” 

Ain’ts and gonnas. You had forgotten how people talked here. Shaking your head, you try to hide your smile by rubbing your lips together but it’s impossible as Mingyu takes another sip of his coffee, letting out a happy sigh. He was almost infectious to be around already. You could understand from just the few minutes of being around him why your brother liked him. “How long have you been working for, Cheol?” 

Oh, so you were going to get right down to it with the questions. Clearing his throat, Mingyu shifts on the chair, going from resting his elbows on his knees so that his back is bent in a curve to sitting up straight, his back against the chair like it was intended to be used. “Uh, well—roundabout three years. He and I met back in school; of course he graduated a couple years before me, but we kept in touch. Then when your dad—when Mr. Choi started to get sick... " Mingyu knew it was a touchy subject; he could see the way your lips turned down at the mention of your father. There was history there that he didn’t know about and that he might never understand, but it made him sad to see your light fade so quickly. “Um, I—yeah, that’s when your brother hired me on. He needed an extra hand.” 

Nodding along with Mingyu as he speaks, you pick up your own cup, taking a sip of coffee as he stumbles through his explanation. You knew why he was timid about it. Everyone was timid when they talked about your father. He had been a strong and resilient man. He had made you and Seungcheol who you both were today, and yet where your brother idolized him, you felt like a disappointment now more than ever. You hadn’t been at his bedside when he took his last breath; that had been Seungcheol. He was the filial son and you were the rebellious daughter. 

“I see. Well, I’m sure they both appreciated having you around. I mean, I’m sure Cheol still appreciates it.” Sighing against the lip of your cup, you furrow your brows, feeling Mingyu’s eyes moving over your face, studying you. “It’s a big ranch for one person to handle. Dad knew that all too well.” 

Mingyu found himself half wondering if you were skipping around what you really wanted to say or if you meant what you were saying, but in the end right now it didn’t matter. You looked sad and it made his chest hurt. “I—yeah. It’s a lotta work. Seungcheol’s got the smarts for it though and I’ve not got any plans on leaving him high and dry anytime soon. The other guys are good ones too. Promise they will help him keep it up.” Furrowing his brows as he watches you nod again, looking down at your coffee resting your arms on your legs, Mingyu considers his words before looking around for anyone else, then back to you. "But—look, I know it ain’t my place, and I don’t know you from Adam, but... if you ever just wanna talk about what’s going on, you know with everything from your side of it... my door’s always open to ya.” 

That was a dangerous thing to offer to someone you barely knew and yet it made your shoulders and brow relax as a smile pulled at your lips. “I must look really shitty for you to offer that, huh?” 

“Wha—no! You look beautifu—I mean, what? I just… You know I’m just—this ain’t comin’ out right.” Mingyu could feel his neck, face, and ears getting hotter; the more he tried to back petal the more words that came out of his mouth. Finally closing his eyes, hearing you laugh under your breath, he sighs and opens one eye slightly to watch you run your fingers along your neck as you shake your head, clearly amused with him. “Words ain’t really my strong point.” 

“That’s obvious, but it’s cute. I’ll think about it.” 

Leaning against the door frame leading out to the patio, Seungcheol narrows his eyes at what is in front of him. It isn’t even just that you and Mingyu are sitting there together sharing coffee; it’s the laughing and how you are talking to him. It was already too flirty for Seungcheol’s liking. Mingyu was a nice guy and gave off a certain vibe from the getgo no matter who he was talking to, but you put him in front of a pretty girl and it’s game over. Seungcheol knew you were pretty. The genes in his family were too good for you not to get attention and God had you over the years and it had caused him headache after headache. This was not a headache he wanted to deal with—not now. 

“What are we thinking about?”

Shifting suddenly to the sound of Seungcheol’s voice, Mingyu clears his throat, taking a bigger sip of the coffee as his eyes follow his best friend on to the patio. You had less of a reaction and looked more annoyed than anything, simply crossing your legs from one side to the other and then crossing your arm over your stomach as you shake your head and sip your coffee. 

“Nothing. Have some coffee, Cheol.” 

It was more than nothing; that was clear from your closed-up body language and Mingyu’s deer in the headlights routine, but Seungcheol wasn’t going to push it when his presence was enough to stop the conversation. “Don’t mind if I do.” Picking up one of the cups, Seungcheol makes a face at the coffee carafe and rolls his eyes as he pours himself a cup, glancing from his task to you and back. “Couldn’t just use a normal ass coffee maker?” 

“Didn’t want just normal ass gross coffee, so no. Why does it matter? I didn’t ask you to make it.” 

It had been a bit awkward just sitting and talking to you, but with both you and Seungcheol here... Mingyu couldn’t help the way his eyes went from one person to the other as you bickered over something as simple as the coffee. 

“Yeah, well… Coffee is coffee, squirt. Right, Gyu?” Scoffing under his breath when Mingyu shakes his head, refusing to take a side, Seungcheol finally takes a sip of the coffee and curses under his breath at how good it is, not willing to tell you out loud. “Whatever, we got shit to today. Need to get Jun and Soonyoung to separate the calves out and let Chan start deworming them.” 

God, you really were home. Making a face, hearing what your brother was asking Mingyu to do, you slip out of your seat, bringing your cup with you before offering to take Mingyu’s empty one. 

“Uh, yeah—oh, thanks, Miss Choi. I could’a got it; yours too in a few minutes.” 

Scoffing, you roll your eyes and sigh loudly, moving past Seungcheol as he smirks at your reaction. Finally, you were tired of the Miss Choi bullshit. 

“Just call me Y/N, and it seems like you all have plenty to do besides washing cups, Mingyu.” 

Your name was pretty and Mingyu couldn’t stop himself from grinning a bit to himself as he nodded along with your words. “I—yeah, busy day, it seems. Thanks, Y/N.” 

“Uh huh, don’t worry about it. Cheol? Is the paperwork in the study?” 

That was Mingyu’s cue to get up and get moving. He could see the look on his friend’s face change at the mention of the paperwork and he didn’t really want to be present for this conversation. Offering you both a quick nod, he glances back towards you one last time before making his way back down towards the barns, leaving you and Seungcheol alone. 

Sighing under the sound of the water running, Seungcheol looks down at the cup in his hands for a few seconds before pushing up from the chair he had sat down on to move into the kitchen with you. He hadn’t forgotten why you were home, but it still didn’t make it any easier. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to get through this process. He knew how it was going to end so to speak, but the end meant his father really was gone and never coming home. He had watched his father take his last breath and he had shed many a tear, but it still never really felt real. Not as real as knowing his name was on all of those papers saying all this responsibility was his now. “Yeah, all in a folder on the desk. I didn’t mess with it after Dad’s attorney handed it off to give it to you. I don’t know what any of it means anyway. You know I’m not the brains.” 

Putting both cups into the dish-drying rack, you listen to Seungcheol moving behind you around the island. You knew he was apprehensive about this part of the process and you also knew that perhaps you should be, but you felt that there was nothing for you inside of that folder anyway. You weren’t the golden child. You were the disappointment. You were doing this for your brother and that was why you would put on a professional face and help him through it. “Why you got me then, huh? I’ll take care of the hard stuff and you can play with the cows and horses.” 

Seungcheol knew that tone of voice and yet he didn’t want to say anything that might scare you away, so instead he just nodded along, offering you a smile as he scratched the back of his head. “Ye—yeah you’re right. I’ll get outta your hair. Gotta help Mingyu and the boys anyway. If you need me for anything, just call my cell, alright?”

Pulling your cardigan around you a bit tighter, you mimic Seungcheol’s smile before nodding in return and watching him head for the patio door, leaving you alone in the house. It had been a long time since you had been inside your childhood home alone.

When you were a kid, you loved this house. It was a sense of pride. You got to live in a big house with your parents and your big brother. There were always animals inside and outside of the house, but then your mother left and you grew up. By the time you were a teenager, the relationship between you and your father was strained. You knew it wasn’t his fault that your mother had chosen to leave, especially when she decided that none of you were worth her time anymore, but you still blamed him. It was easier than blaming her. You reminded him of her. You reminded everyone of her. That was why Seungcheol’s words cut you so deep, even if you pretended that they hadn’t. 

Moving through the house, you look over the pictures on the mantle and sigh to yourself, realizing that it is your fault that the last family portrait was from before you had left for university. Your father had begged you to take one after your graduation, but you had refused—looking back on it now, you could remember the disappointment in his face. 

It was easier for you to refuse and lash out at him or at Seungcheol when you looked back and remembered being told you were wasting your time and energy on going to the city—your family needed you here. What about what you needed? The thought makes your chest feel tight as you clutch your cardigan a bit harder in your hand at your heart, tearing your eyes away from your father’s face in the portrait and feeling them follow you towards the hall. 

The inside of your father’s study—Seungcheol’s study—was just as it had always been. Dark wood, rich leather, and books lining numerous bookshelves and end tables around the room, not to mention the large desk in front of the window. The desk—your father’s desk—looked the same that it always had with papers covering it, pens not put back in the organizer right in front of where they lay, but the main difference was the large dark brown legal envelope in the center. 

You had a good idea of what all was inside that envelope. This wouldn’t be the first time that you had assisted someone in the estate administration process, but this was the first time you were doing it for your family. You had told yourself it would be easy. Inside that envelope you’d find the will, a few debts that would possibly need to be settled, possibly medical in nature—that was common—and then all the deeds and paperwork that had been collected for everything that your father had. It should be simple. Seungcheol’s name should already be listed as co-owner or signer of 90% of the paperwork and he would be named the executor, giving him assets and ownership of the rest. All you would need to do was make sure the I’s were dotted and the T’s were crossed. 

Sliding into the leather chair behind the desk, you tense up to the feeling—how small you feel in your father’s chair and behind his desk—before trying to push that away and reach for the envelope, undoing the string keeping it tightly closed. This would be easier if you put away your personal feelings and regrets, allowing you to focus on what was in front of you. That would be how you could get this done quickly and get back to your own life—whatever it is that you do. 

The air felt thicker around you as you cleared off a place on the desk before carefully removing the paperwork from the envelope and laying it in a neat stack in front of you. The top was just a letter from your father’s attorney—nothing unexpected, a sympathy note really and nothing more, but it was what was next that made you feel like the walls were closing in around you. 

I hereby nominate, constitute, and appoint Choi Y/N as executor of my will and estate. 

It would be fine. A bit more work than you had anticipated. You would have to stay for a bit longer than you thought, but—

I bequeath unto the persons named below, if he or she survives me by 30 (thirty) days, all of my property, assets, and belongings: 

Name:Choi Seungcheol 

Relationship: Son  

Name: Choi Y/N

Relationship: Daughter

Attempting to take a deep breath, you fail as your eyes continue to scan your father’s will, feeling your heart in your throat. 

Special Requests 

I direct that on my death my remains shall be cremated and all cremation expenses shall be paid out of my estate. Any and all debts shall be paid out of my estate. Any and all other property, real estate, assets, and belongings will be owned and split equally by my children as my executor sees fit. 

Placing the will back on top of the stack of papers, you rest your head in your hands, feeling anxiety pulsing from your head to your toes. He put everything on you and while Seungcheol was in fact getting everything, so were you. This wasn’t as easy as handing your brother the keys to the palace, so to speak, and taking your small percentage; this would take cooperation and time to sort through. 

“Oh fuck—” One last cruel joke from your father, or at least that’s how it felt at the moment as you lean your head back, glancing towards the bar cart under the window facing out towards the back of the ranch. 

You needed a drink; it wasn’t even 9 am and you were already on your feet, pouring yourself a glass of your father’s 30-year-old whiskey that you had never been allowed to touch. Letting out a breath into the glass, you look out at Seungcheol leaning over the gate as he talks to the ranch hands as they work calves through the cattle chute one at a time. It was almost amusing now, feeling the warm liquor coating your throat as you thought back to the papers that changed your life and his, as he went about his day with no idea as to what you had just found out. 

Glancing towards the house, Mingyu furrows his brows, hearing Seungcheol raise his voice for probably the fifth time in the last half hour. It had just started to get dark and they were making their way through the last of the chores for the day when the fussing had started. 

This wasn’t something that he or the other boys on the ranch were used to. Every once in a while, Seungcheol and his dad would get into a bit of a quarrel but nothing like this. This sounded personal and there had been a couple of times when your voice had reached a peak that Mingyu wondered if he should intervene, only to get a sharp look from Jun reminding him that this was family business and as much as they might all feel like it, none of them were really family. 

“Yeah? Well, fuck you, Y/N. I’ll do what I want. This is bullshit…” 

Leaning his head down towards the gate as he pushes it closed, Mingyu sighs loudly, looking towards the house again, knowing this time he wasn’t the only one doing it. Seungcheol was on the patio now, a cigarette between his lips as he muttered under his breath, his brows knitted together tightly. For as long as Mingyu had known Seungcheol, he rarely smoked. This had to be bad if he was stressed enough to pull out a new pack of cigarettes and start pacing. 

“Maybe I shou—” 

“Should what? Get yelled at because you stick your nose in some shit that don’t concern any of us?” While his words were sharp, Jun’s eyes said something else. He was concerned and he didn’t want Mingyu’s big heart to cause him to be the punching bag. “If Cheol wants to talk to us about it, he’ll find us. Come on, it’s time for dinner anyhow and you said you’d cook.” 

That brought a bit of a smile to Mingyu’s face, but one more look back towards the house and seeing you standing in the window of the living room wiping tears from your cheeks made his feet feel like they were stuck in concrete. 

“Gyu! Come on! Move your ass.” 

God what Mingyu would do to fix this. He wasn’t even sure how or what was the real problem, but he hated this. Hanging his hat up next to the door in the house that the three ranch hands called their temporary home, Mingyu lets out a breath he hadn’t even realized he had been holding when the door shuts behind him. He had spent many a summer inside this house with other ranch hands; there were plenty of fond and less than fond memories hidden in the walls. 

“What you think they’re bitchin’ ‘bout anyways? I don’t think I’ve seen Cheol that wound up in a while.” 

Sitting down at the table in the middle of the room, Soonyoung yawns into his words, starting to put his feet up on the table when Jun pushes them back into the floor, pulling the chair out next to him to sit down, his eyes following Mingyu as he opens the fridge. “None of our business, but seeing as how it involves his sister... I’d say it’s ‘bout Mr. Choi’s stuff. Just going out on a limb.” 

Wasn’t much of a limb to go out on now that Mingyu thought about it; Jun was probably right. Furrowing his brow tightly in thought, Mingyu uses the toe of his shoe to open the cabinet next to the fridge. Putting the ingredients in his hands down on the countertop, he leans to take out the pots and pans he would need for dinner as he listens to the boys talk behind him. 

“She’s pretty enough, and I mean damn pretty, but Seungcheol didn’t need more headache.” Lifting his hands from the table, Chan tries to keep the peace, seeing the looks from not only Jun and Soonyoung but also the sudden glance over the shoulder from Mingyu. “No, wait—hear me out, alright. The old man was always saying something or another about how Y/N wasn’t doing this or that—she wouldn’t come home for Thanksgiving or he was having to pay for tuition again—” 

“And? He was proud as fuck that she graduated from that school, Chan, and you know it. He wouldn’t stop telling everybody who’d listen that his daughter was a fancy lawyer now.” Scoffing as he drops the hamburger meat into the bottom of the pot, Mingyu clicks his tongue against his teeth, trying to keep himself from getting too riled up in your defense. There was no reason for him to feel so protective of you and yet he couldn’t help it. He had seen that look in your eye this morning and then again at the window. “Jun’s right, ain’t none of this our fuckin’ business.” 

You had expected Seungcheol to react poorly to your father’s will, but you hadn’t expected him to explode the way he had. The look on his face was almost one of betrayal when he read the words on the page before tossing it down on the desk, muttering that it was bullshit over and over again before finally meeting your eyes. 

“Look… Cheol, I know it’s not ideal—” 

“The fuck, like you know a damn thing, Y/N. You think you know everything. That’s your fuckin’ problem.” 

You had started to follow your brother out of the room, but his words had frozen you in place momentarily. It had been a long time since he had spoken to you like this. You were used to the Seungcheol that had greeted you the day prior. You were used to fake pleasantries and brief moments of time when you wished that it could be a real relationship between the two of you—but this was real. 

“That’s not fair.” Shaking your head, your voice quiet at first, you push your hands off the desk and manage to follow behind Seungcheol, speaking louder this time. “That’s not fucking fair, Seungcheol! You don’t get to—” 

“Fuck off. No, seriously, Y/N. Fuck you!” Seungcheol could see how you recoiled at his words; deep down he knew that you were right; he wasn’t being fair, but all he could truly see was red, and all he could feel right now was pain. “You didn’t do anything to help him. You didn’t even give a shit when he got sick. You didn’t come home or even call! It’s not about what he’s—fuck!” Punching the wall next to him, Seungcheol closes his eyes to keep back his tears even as he hears you yelp in surprise before he continues. “You weren’t even fucking here when he died, Y/N. You are that goddamn selfish, and you still get everything you want.” 

Swallowing hard, you blink through your tears as you bite on your lips, listening to Seungcheol even though you want to scream at him and tell him to stop. Even though there was truth to what he was saying, there was so much more that he didn’t know or understand. Taking a step closer to him, you hold your cardigan tightly in your fist against your chest before gathering your courage to speak up. “Ples—Cheol, please stop. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t tell him to write it out like that. It’s not like I didn’t want to be here when he—” 

Not letting you finish what you were going to say once again, Seungcheol slaps the wall next to where his fist had made contact, watching you jump in place. “No. You don’t get to cry and give me that look, then expect me to just believe whatever bullshit comes out of your mouth.” 

Whining, you move closer to Seungcheol, getting frustrated when he turns his back to you, walking towards the kitchen, opening the cabinet to take out a new pack of cigarettes. “You gotta be kidding me! Don’t smoke, Cheol. You said you stopped. This isn’t worth that.” 

Scoffing under his breath as he angrily pulls the plastic from around the outside of the cigarettes, Seungcheol rolls his eyes at you, barely giving you a second glance as he pulls open the patio door, his voice full of malice. “Yeah? Well, fuck you, Y/N. I’ll do what I want. This is bullshit…” 

It had been over a year since Seungcheol had smoked a cigarette and he really hadn’t had any intention of ever picking another one up, but then you had walked right back into his life and set it on fire so what was a little lung damage compared to that? He hated this part of his and your relationship. He was supposed to be your big brother, your protector. You were supposed to be his sweet little sister who looked to him for everything, and yet none of that was true for either of you. 

Looking out over the fields and towards the smaller house just a stone's throw from the main house, Seungcheol sighs, letting out a deep breath of smoke from his lungs, watching Mingyu take up the rear as the rest of the ranch hands head in for the evening. How much had they heard? It wasn’t like he had been subtle; hell, neither had you, but still, Seungcheol hated the idea that the boys might think differently of him because of this. 

You felt like your heart was trying to beat out of your chest with every deep breath you took in an attempt to calm yourself down as you stood in front of the large window overlooking the back of the house. It had been a long time since anyone had made you feel as shitty as you did in that moment. Seungcheol had managed to tear you down completely when he was supposed to be the one protecting you. Still, you knew that this wasn’t him—not really. He was angry and hurt, and you were the punching bag. You were just tired of being the punching bag. 

Wiping the tears from your face, you look away when Mingyu’s eye catches yours as he follows behind the rest of the ranch hands. God, this was devastating. Not only had you had one of the most brutal fights with your brother in your entire life, but now you were crying like a baby for Mingyu to see. It shouldn’t matter. 

You didn’t matter to him or anyone here. That was obvious. It didn’t matter how much things had changed or what had been said between yourself and your father; you had never meant for any of this to happen. Would any of this be worth it if it lost you what you had left of your family in the end? 

Mingyu was usually the first person to wake up on the ranch, and he was usually the last to head to bed. He never minded it, and there was usually something that needed to be done that someone had forgotten to do. Tonight wasn’t the exception. 

Sighing as he wraps the rope around his hand to his elbow, Mingyu rocks his head from left to right, trying to release some of the tension from his neck. It had been a long day, and not even the quiet peeps from the frogs in the creek nor the bright stars in the sky were keeping his mind from what he had heard earlier in the night. 

“Knew I’d find you here…” 

The sudden sound of Seungcheol’s voice is almost enough to cause Mingyu to drop the rope from his grasp. Turning around from the barn door to look at the other man, he moves through the smaller mudroom entrance closer to the main house. “I—yeah, well.” Lifting the lead rope on his arm, Mingyu laughs under his breath before gesturing with his head down at the gear that Chan had forgotten to put up after riding out to check on the cattle further out on the property. “He means well; he just gets lost in his head.” 

Picking up the bit and headstall that had been used, Seungcheol smiles, moving to put them away as he nods. “It’s alright. I—listen. I wanted to talk about earlier.” 

The night air was alright, a bit warm, but with Seungcheol’s words, Mingyu felt it get thick and muggy with his nerves. “Oh? Earlier? Like the calves?” 

Seungcheol knew that Mingyu would pretend like he hadn’t heard the argument, and while he appreciated the act of normalcy, he also didn’t need that as much as he needed to talk to his friend. “No, and you know it. I’m sorry ‘bout all the yellin’ that you and the boys heard. Just—it’s just some shit—fuck... I know you aren’t involved in this, but, Gyu, I’m drownin’.” 

Swallowing hard at Seungcheol’s words, his confession on how he feels, Mingyu’s lips turn down as he hears his best friend’s voice shake. Seungcheol had always been strong. He had been raised by a tough-as-nails man, and he was a mirror image, but right now he was more fragile than Mingyu had ever seen him. “Hey, Cheol… Man, I’m here. I’ll listen; don’t matter if I’m involved or not.” 

Mingyu watches as Seungcheol moves to lean against the workbench, his hands wringing together out of nerves as he tries to keep his emotions at bay. He had known Seungcheol long enough to know when he was holding back, and despite telling Mingyu that he needed help, he was still having a hard time going through with it. “Ju—just start from the beginnin’, maybe?” 

And so Seungcheol did—from the point when his father had first gotten sick to the argument that everyone had heard bits and pieces of. Though it was just from his side, Seungcheol felt like he was being fair and thorough, explaining how you had, in his eyes, abandoned him and your father to do something so meaningless. Lowering his head, Mingyu nods along, only offering small encouraging words to keep Seungcheol moving along with his words, but he never adds his own opinion, just an open mind and a friendly ear. It’s only when things are quiet for a good minute that he sighs, lifting his hand to wipe at his mouth, trying to formulate his words in the right way and order. 

“Can I play devil’s advocate and you not rip my head off?” 

Scoffing at Mingyu’s words, Seungcheol lifts his hands for him to continue, willing to hear anything. You weren’t talking to him now, not that Seungcheol was sure he wanted to talk to you. There was just a lot of doors slamming and remembering what it was like when you were a teenager at home. 

It was clear that Seungcheol wanted one thing, but Mingyu wasn’t just his friend. There were friends who would tell you exactly what you wanted to hear and stroke your ego, and then there were the ones who would take a bullet for you. Those friends were there to stay and it didn’t matter if they agreed with every single word you said or every thought in your head—they were family. 

“Hear her out. Don’t sound like you did much of that.” Hearing Seungcheol take a sharp breath out of anger, Mingyu tilts his head and lifts his own hands, showing he doesn’t want to fight. “You were both raised strong-willed. You and your dad wanted her back here; now she’s here. She’s clearly smart as hell if she understand the words on that paperwork and I swear, Cheol…” Not meeting Seungcheol’s eyes this time, Mingyu scoffs under his breath into his words. “I just don’t think she’s here to fuck with you over this. You’ve whined for months… hell, years about wanting her home and she’s here. Don’t push her out the damn door on day two.” 

Taking a deep breath, Seungcheol looks away from Mingyu completely and towards the house through the open door, seeing the lights still on. You hadn’t told him what you were doing, but you had slammed your bedroom door after seeing him in the hall about an hour ago, so he had figured you were going to bed. While he didn’t agree with what Mingyu was saying, and you had pissed him off in more ways than one, Seungcheol also didn’t want this to ruin what little relationship the two of you had left. “Yeah, I—shit, I know. Just fuckin’ sucks, man. She just—she gets under my skin and just knows—” 

The look on Mingyu’s face was enough to get Seungcheol to take another breath and to stop himself from continuing. He was doing it again. He could feel the pressure rising in his chest and his fists were tight at his sides. “Sorry. Sorry, I don’t know why she pisses me off so much.” Laughing on a breath out, he shakes his head and runs his fingers through his hair. “Nah, you know what, I do. She’s this perfect little princess who hasn’t had to work a hard day in her goddamn life. Dad gave her whatever she wanted when he was here and he’s still doing it. She’s never respected him as much as I have.” 

“That’s how you see it, Cheol.” Mingyu knew it was bold to speak up when Seungcheol looked like he wanted to put his fist through something and that something might end up being him, but he was spiraling again. “Listen, your dad and I talked some when you weren’t around, right? He talked a lot about you both. ‘Bout how proud he was of both of y’all. Proud of you and proud of Y/N.” 

Mingyu waits for Seungcheol’s brows to soften before he continues, reaching over to pat his shoulder, a smile pulling at his lips. “Said you were a hell of a good man, and you are. Knew you’d take care of this ranch. But he talked a lot ‘bout her too. ‘Bout all the shit she was doing and how she was so smart and how he knew she didn’t get it from him or some shit like that. Just sayin’ cut her some slack?” 

Swallowing hard, Seungcheol pushes his thumb against his palm as his brows knit together listening to what Mingyu has to say. He wasn’t wrong. He had heard his father say much of the same, even if he didn’t want to remember it. His father had gotten more sentimental near the end, talking about you and him more—about the good times, when you both were young. He’d bring up childhood memories and then suddenly talk about your college graduation and how much pride he had that day. Seungcheol had that pride too. You looked like a million bucks walking across that stage with all those fancy honor cords draped around your neck. 

“Yeah—yeah, you’re right, Gyu. He wouldn’t want me acting like this. He’d be pissed off at me for—” Groaning under his breath, feeling pressure behind his eyes as his father floods his memories, Seungcheol can almost hear his voice in his head. It’s almost too much and the tears sit right on the rims of his eyes as he leans his head back to stop them from falling. “He’d hate that I made her cry so fuckin’ much today. I—I’ll fix it.” 

Staring at your bedroom door, you bite at your thumbnail, dreading the idea of going out of the safety of your room and into the house where Seungcheol might be. You knew you were being childish, but you were still angry with him, and your head and chest hurt just remembering him screaming at you the day before. It wasn’t like you blamed him completely. You had yelled back a few times, but nothing like he had. It was serious for him and you were just defending yourself—Seungcheol had gone for blood and struck gold. 

The house seemed quiet. Seungcheol’s door was open, his bed was made, but you could smell food drawing you closer towards the kitchen. Bracing yourself to see your brother, you wince then stop in your tracks when you see someone else at the stove, his back to you. “Mingyu? Wh—what are you doing in here?” 

Mingyu had hoped to have food done and ready for you to eat by the time you woke up, but you had beaten him to the punch. Letting out a soft, surprised sound under his breath, he glances at you over his shoulder, noticing how you wrap your cardigan around you a bit tighter. It was the same one you had on yesterday—must be your favorite. Turning his attention back to the pan in front of him, he sighs into his words, carefully turning the omelette, making sure he doesn’t break the surface of the eggs. “Uh, Cheol—Cheol went into town this mornin’, and he asked if I might make you somethin’ to eat. He wanted to make sure you had somethin’ more than coffee and a protein bar.” 

Scoffing under your breath, you move towards the island, pulling out one of the barstools and sitting with a huff. “Like he cares…” The moment the words leave your lips, you feel bad for saying them. Mingyu’s brows knit together slightly and you shake your head, muttering an apology as you pick at your cardigan sleeve, seeing him move out of the corner of your eye. 

“Don’t gotta apologize to me. Hell, you ain’t even gotta apologize to him. Truth is he knows he fucked up. We talked about it last night.” Taking a plate from the cabinet, Mingyu turns towards the island, giving you a once-over before he slides the omelette onto the plate and pushes it towards you. “Eat up. You want coffee or juice. ‘Fraid I don’t know how to make your fancy coffee.” 

You can’t stop the way your lips pull up at the corners when Mingyu turns back towards the stove, cracking a couple more eggs into the pan. The gentle sizzle makes you feel warmer, just like his voice, as you pick up the fork left next to your plate and examine the food in front of you. “Juice is fine, but what do you mean, you and Cheol talked about it last night? You two talked about our—” Unsure how to phrase your next words, you stop short and furrow your brows, causing Mingyu to glance back at you and nod. 

“Your squabble, yeah.” Leaving the spatula in the pan, Mingyu opens the fridge, taking out the pitcher of orange juice as he feels your eyes following him every step of the way. “Know it’s not much my business, but I think Cheol was lookin’ for an outside perspective. He just—well, you know how he is. He gets caught up on the bigger picture and doesn’t stop to think about what he’s sayin’ and how it sounds.” Meeting your eyes as he tips the pitcher towards the glass in front of your plate, Mingyu watches how your lips turn down in a frown. He hates that look on your face. You’re too damn pretty to be so sad and tense. All he can think about is how much he wants to fix it. 

“And yet he couldn’t say any of this to me himself.” 

Tilting his head once your glass is almost full of juice, Mingyu smirks a bit to himself and your words before turning back towards the stove and his eggs. “My fault, I suppose. Told him to let you cool off. Figured you could use a moment without seeing each other after some of the shit I heard ya’ll yelling back and forth at each other yesterday.” 

You watch as Mingyu cuts the stove off and picks up a fork, turning to lean against the countertop as he eats the eggs he’s cooked straight out of the pan. It was so different from what he had made you and how he had presented it to you. Shaking your head, you cut off another bite of your omelette, sighing as you chew, your eyes meeting Mingyu’s even as he gives you that stupidly attractive half smirk while eating his eggs. “Yeah, whatever. Probably for the best, you’re right. I have so much to do today anyway and I’d rather not fight with Seungcheol. Makes me feel sick to my stomach.” 

Mingyu nods, taking the last bite of his food before wiping his lips with the back of his hand. “Mmhm, what all you gotta do? Anything me or the boys can help with to ease your mind?” 

Smiling, you shake your head, pushing around the last bits of your food as Mingyu works to clean up, splitting his attention with you and the task in front of him. He was almost too good to be true, but your brother’s words echo in your mind. ‘Leave him alone; he isn’t used to girls like you.’ You clear your throat then swallow hard. “Uh… Nope. I’ll be just fine on my own. What I’m used to.” Pushing your plate towards Mingyu, you fake your smile this time and sigh into your words as you slide off the stool. “Thanks for the breakfast, Mingyu.” 

Feeling the shift in your mood, Mingyu just nods, taking your plate as he watches you move back through the house towards your bedroom and hearing your door shut. Had he said something wrong? Did you not like the breakfast? You were an enigma that he just couldn’t solve and it was driving him insane. One minute you were smiling, almost flirting with him and the next you were giving him the cold shoulder. “Don’t make a lick of sense…” 

It was only 9am and Seungcheol was already exhausted from running the errands that Mingyu had given him. Sighing loudly, he moves through the living room, dropping the shopping bags on the couch before making his way into the kitchen, hearing Mingyu muttering to himself. “The hell you mumblin’ to yourself about?” You weren’t there and there wasn’t any breakfast left; maybe you hadn’t been up yet, or maybe you had already come and gone. Seungcheol hoped for the latter. Glancing back towards the hallway and your room, he furrows his brows and huffs out a breath before looking back towards Mingyu. “Is—did Y/N eat somethin’?” 

Tossing the towel he had been using to dry the dishes over his shoulder, Mingyu leans against the island and nods a few times, looking in the direction of your room. “Nothin’ important. And she did. Made her an omelette. She ate most of it and said she had stuff to do. She wasn’t much for talkin’. I—you think she’s—maybe she just don’t like me much?” 

Seungcheol knew that wasn’t the case. If anything, you probably liked Mingyu too much, or at least you liked looking at him too much, but that wasn’t any of his business. Shaking his head, he rolls his eyes and shrugs. “She don’t like much of nothin’ round here, Gyu. What I’ve been tellin’ you. Don’t get attached. I’m gonna smooth things over, but you know she ain’t stayin’ anyhow. She’s got her job back east and she’s too good for us and this place.” 

Maybe Seungcheol was right. Hell, Mingyu knew he was. You were way too good for him. You talked nice and used words he didn’t understand. You drank fancy things and probably ate even better things. You had expensive clothes and bags—you didn’t want some man covered in mud to cheapen your brand. “Yeah—yeah, maybe you’re right. I’mma get outside and get the boys started on shit. Yoller if you need me.” 

“It’s an inventory of assets and property, Seungcheol. I’m not calling you or Daddy a liar. I don’t know why you’d even—”  Sighing, you close your eyes, feeling your blood pressure rising as you tighten your hands around the iPad in your hands. Things had been going better. Seungcheol had apologized for being an asshole and you had done the same, but then you had started trying to check off one thing from your to-do list and he saw red. 

“I’m not callin’ you a fuckin’ liar, Y/N! Why do you always jump to conclusions? I’m just askin’ why you gotta go through all of his shit! It’s—Sis! I don’t want anyone moving it around. Not even you! I ain’t ready!” 

You could see the panic dripping off of your brother as he paced in the middle of your father’s office, his voice an octave higher than usual. The veins in his neck were visible and you could almost see his heartbeat through them with each step he took. All you had done was take the items from your father’s desk and organize them into piles so you could inventory them properly, and Seungcheol had begun to spiral. 

“Cheollie… You gotta calm down.” Reaching out to take his hand in yours, you feel him start to jerk away before he meets your eyes, seeing the compassion you have for him in your gaze. “Please? Come on… I won’t move anything else. I’ll inventory it without touching it, I swear. But you gotta—Cheollie, look at me.” When Seungcheol’s eyes dart away from you and back to the piles of papers and supplies on the floor, you hold your iPad under your arm and use your free hand to turn his face back towards you to keep his attention. “You gotta trust me.” 

Seungcheol swallows hard, feeling his heartbeats in every inch of his body as the panic attack that had started to take over him begins to subside with your help. He watches you take a deep breath and mimics you, earning a smile from you at his effort. Anxiety had always been a difficult topic for Seungcheol, but the day that your mother had left was the day that he had experienced his first full-blown panic attack. There was little that could calm him down—medicine, therapy, smoking. None of his vices helped as much as watching you take a deep breath and following along. That was why it hurt so much when you left him. You had taken away his safety net, though Seungcheol doubted you knew that. 

“There you go. Better?” 

Nodding, Seungcheol closes his eyes and leans against your palm, willing his tears back. He had missed you so much but he wasn’t willing to tell you that or to beg you not to leave home again. He had spent so much time pushing you away in order to make it easier to live without you for his sake and for your father’s sake. Having you home now was a temptation of something Seungcheol knew he could never have. His family died with his father. You were temporary and in passing. A brief moment of comfort, but in this exact moment Seungcheol wished he hated you more because as you moved to hug him, his heart ached. 

“Good. I love you, Cheollie, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

Keeping you close so that you can’t see the tears on his cheeks, Seungcheol sighs softly and shakes his head. “It’s alright, Squirt. I love you too. I’m sorry I got so worked up. I gotta back off and let you get this shit done.” 

It had been a week since you had started going through the paperwork for your father’s estate. Most of the inventory of property had been completed within the main house and you had been able to speed your way through the smaller barns within a day. It was today that you found yourself standing in front of the main barn and one of the largest tasks on your list. 

Sighing to yourself, you whine under your breath and wrinkle your nose at the smell of manure. You knew that inside of this barn there were several stalls where your father—now Seungcheol—kept horses. You remembered a time when you were younger when you loved coming to this particular barn and to your own horse, but those days were long gone. 

Sidestepping a pile of manure, you grimace and push your sunglasses up your nose before pushing open one of the smaller doors to the barn, getting hit with a strong scent of hay and horse. You were thankful that this was your father’s ranch. This barn in particular was temperature controlled, so unlike the heat that was assaulting you outside, you feel relief even as chill bumps spread along your skin from the change in temperature. 

Just like the inside of the house, not much had changed in the barn either. Seungcheol was afraid of change and you could see where things that your father had hung during your childhood remained to this day. If you were honest, there were things that could use updates, if anything repairs, but after the conversation the two of you had just days before, you weren’t in any rush to have it again. 

Mingyu had sent off the rest of the boys to do various things around the property. Jun was repairing a fence with Chan out by the road while Soonyoung was working with a stallion that had been delivered earlier in the morning. For him it had been a quiet day and that was rare. Seungcheol was taking care of things on the business side and that left normal chores for him. Mingyu never minded the mundane tasks. They gave him time to think and get lost in those thoughts. He hadn’t noticed you were in the barn until he heard muttering to yourself, looking around and then down at your iPad in your hands. Clearly you didn’t realize he was there; you were lost in your own thoughts. 

For a few minutes, Mingyu just watched you with a small smile on his face. You were beautiful, and when you were concentrating, you got this cute little scowl on your face. Mingyu could remember your father doing the same thing—muttering to himself and scowling; Seungcheol did it too. When the sound of the horse that Mingyu's brushing blows out its breath makes you look in his direction, he lowers his eyes and grins to himself. “Didn’t wanna bother you. You looked awful interested in whatever it is you’re lookin’ at.” 

Heat spreads across your cheeks as you clear your throat, realizing you hadn’t been alone in the barn. Mingyu had been so quiet. You had thought that everyone was gone, at least somewhere else on the ranch, but clearly you had been wrong. “Sorry, I just—I’m working on stuff for the estate. I’m not trying to be in your way.” 

“Ain’t in my way. Just cleanin’ stalls and takin’ care of the girls.” Glancing around the barn and then back to you, Mingyu smirks a bit to himself as he runs the brush along the side of the horse. “What sorta stuff you gotta do in here? If you don’t mind me askin’?” 

Laughing under your breath moving closer to Mingyu, you lift one hand to run your fingers along the horse’s forehead and down her muzzle as she nudges towards you. “Uh, just like an inventory of the estate and the barns is part of it. I have to make, like, a basic outline for the bank and their attorneys so that they can sign off on it all.” 

Mingyu nods along, even if most of what you’re saying goes over his head. It wasn’t so much that the words didn’t make sense, but the reasoning behind it was beyond him. “Uh huh, sure. Lotta red tape they are making you and Cheol jump through for something your dad already left y’all.” 

He wasn’t wrong, but you were used to this. You had done this for others, so doing it for yourself—for your family—wasn’t anything new. “Yeah, they like to, uh—when there is a certain amount of money or property involved, the bank likes to “hold on to it” for as long as they can. Make sure their investment is passed to heirs properly.” Rolling your eyes, you scratch the horse's muzzle once more before meeting Mingyu’s eyes and shrugging. “Not that it’s even theirs now. They just like to pretend for a little bit. I’ll get all this to them by the end of the week, hopefully, and it’ll be settled.” 

It was nice seeing you like this. You seemed more relaxed than the last time that Mingyu had seen you and you weren’t actively avoiding him. Glancing around the barn with you, he grins to himself, stepping away from the horse and heading towards you with his cleaning supplies in hand. “‘Scuse me. I don’t wanna get any of this mess on you. You need to take note of these too?” 

Stepping back out of Mingyu’s way, you shake your head at his antics as he leans his broom against the wall before leaning back into the stall to grab the rest of his stuff. “I mean—yeah, I have to take note of it all no matter how insignificant it might seem.” 

“Well, this here is a manure fork and that’s a broom…” 

“I know what they are, Mingyu. I’m not stupid.” 

Furrowing your brows, you meet Mingyu’s eyes as he opens his mouth in surprise at your accusation. Lifting his hands, he laughs and shakes his head before reaching back in the stall one more time for his bucket of brushes. “Hey now… I never said that. Don’t be puttin’ words in my mouth, missy. I just figured you wouldn’t know what they were based on how you’re a city gal and all. I’m tryin’ to be helpful.” 

Before you even realize what look you are giving him, Mingyu laughs again seeing the contempt in your eyes. “What? Why you lookin’ at me like that? Like I kicked your puppy. You ain’t even got one, do ya?” 

“No… But you are digging yourself a hole, Kim Mingyu. Are you forgetting that I literally grew up here?” Gesturing to the ground you are standing on, you lift your brows, trying to get your point across. “On this ranch. My daddy was your boss and now my brother. Who the hell do you think I am?” 

He knew you were trying to sound mad and that maybe he should back off, not get his fingers bit, but you were just too cute. “A damn spitfire is what you are. Hell, woman… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring out the claws, but can’t lie and say I didn’t like it a little bit.” Winking at you as he moves into the next stall, Mingyu puts down the bucket and pats the horse's side as she stomps the ground clearly aggravated with the tension. “Shh, everything’s fine, Lucy. That’s a good girl.”

You were frustrated, but as you kept your eyes on Mingyu and listened to him with the horse, you felt yourself starting to calm down. Your blood had stopped boiling and you had to remind yourself that you were the one in the family who was better at controlling their emotions. “You’re nicer to the horse than you are to me.” 

Having moved the rest of his supplies into the stall, Mingyu smirks at your accusation, lifting his head to meet your eyes for a moment before picking up the manure fork getting to work. “Yeah? I don’t think that’s true. I think I’m pretty nice in general. Don’t you agree, Luce?” Feeling the horse knock into him, Mingyu glances up towards her and laughs under his breath. “Don’t go takin’ her side just ‘cause she’s pretty, now. Thought you was my girl?” 

You had to admit Mingyu was adorable as he talked to Lucy and worked. Leaning your arms on the stall door, you rest your chin on your arm and smile at the interaction, finding it and him endearing. “I’m pretty, but Lucy the horse is your girl?” Keeping your iPad in one hand, you reach out, letting Lucy nuzzle against your free hand as Mingyu stands to his full height with a laughing sigh. 

“Is that judgment I hear in your voice, Miss Choi? Two things can be true at the same time.” Lifting his hand to gesture at you, Mingyu bites his bottom lip quickly, getting back to work, not seeing your reaction and how you have to look away from him, feeling your stomach tighten. The same thing had happened when he had praised the horse. He wasn’t even praising you and yet you were affected by it. 

“Well, it seems like ‘your girl’ likes me.” 

That was something that Mingyu had already noticed. The horses were drawn to you, much like he was and everyone else around you that gave you a chance. You were magnetic. “Yeah, she’s a good judge of character. Seems like you might just be a country girl after all.” 

Scoffing, you tilt your head, seeing how Mingyu smiles up at you. Moving away from the door, you find a safe place for your iPad before making your way back over and into the stall. It had been a long time since you had tried to do any of this—taking care of a horse or cleaning up after one—but you weren’t someone who backed down from a challenge. Carefully sliding your hand along Lucy’s shoulder to her flank, you put your hand out towards Mingyu, finding his brows raised for a moment before he finally puts one of the brushes in your hand. 

“You—I mean, go with…never mind, you know what you’re doing, clearly.” Mingyu had wanted to help you, teach you how to use the brush, but the moment you had it in your hand, it was as if you had done this a thousand times. That’s when it dawned on Mingyu; you probably had. You had said it yourself; you were raised here. You probably had horses of your own at one point or another, and despite the way you looked, talked, or acted now, this was in your blood. 

“Yeah, Daddy taught me how to take care of horses when I asked for one of my own when I was little. He said I’d need to know how to do this first. If I was going to be big enough to have one, I had to be big enough to take care of one.” Leaning your head back away from the dust coming from Lucy as you brush her, you think briefly about the clothes you are wearing and how they aren’t made for this situation before shrugging to yourself and stepping closer to continue your task. Clothes could be washed. Nothing couldn’t be replaced. “I used to love doing this. It was calming. Just me and Bella for an hour or so…” 

Bella. Smiling as he leans on the broom, almost forgetting what he is supposed to be doing, Mingyu has to force himself not to fixate on you for too long. He could get lost in you and what you were saying. He liked learning about you and more than just the lawyer version of you. There was stuff that was buried deeper that he wanted to pull out of you and learn about if you’d let him. “So you used to ride? You still know how?” 

Shaking your head, you meet Mingyu’s eyes as he finally goes back to sweeping. You weren’t sure anyone forgot how to ride a horse once they learned, but then again you had never really learned how; you were just put on a horse and took off. The same had been true about Seungcheol. Your dad had told you both that you were born to be on a ranch. As you got older, you grew to resent that statement, but when you were little, you remembered having so much pride over it as you’d lace your fingers into Bella’s mane and ride through the fields. You had been so rebellious even then, choosing to ride bareback, hearing Seungcheol racing behind you, telling you that you were going to fall off, but you never did. 

“Of course I do. I haven’t in a really long time, but it’s—I don’t think I could forget that.” 

There was something about how you spoke when you answered his question that made Mingyu curious and eager. Glancing towards the open window, he sighs under his breath and purses his lips. This was probably a bad idea, but life was full of decisions and Mingyu was tired of seeing his life pass by without taking any chances—especially when you were involved. “Yo—you wanna go for a ride with me?” 

Seungcheol had gotten back from town and the house was quiet. He figured that you were still working on estate paperwork somewhere on the property, but it was starting to get later in the afternoon. You were pushing yourself when it came to this and he knew it was his fault. He knew that you were trying to get as much done as quickly as possible so that he wouldn’t be stressed out, and by doing that, you were stressing yourself out. Seungcheol felt horrible about that, but he still felt a sense of relief that you were going about things the way you were. Things had been left where they belonged for now. 

Moving through the house towards the kitchen and the large doors leading towards the patio, Seungcheol stretches and yawns only for the sound to get caught in his throat at the sight in front of him. Furrowing his brows, he lowers his arms and moves out onto the large patio, following the two horses heading out from the barn towards the fence line. You and Mingyu. 

Seungcheol’s first thought is how nice it is to see you riding again. It had been years since he had even seen you near a horse, let alone riding one, but this wasn’t the way he wanted that to happen. You were out with Mingyu and that didn’t sit well with Seungcheol. It could be innocent, but knowing you and knowing Mingyu, it wasn’t. There was something too close about it all that made Seungcheol’s ‘brother’ instincts go on high alert. 

He knew that he could easily get on one of the 4 wheelers and head out after the two of you—see what you were up to and tell you to get your ass back to the house. He could saddle up his own horse and go about it that way… But instead, Seungcheol stuck his tongue against his cheek and scowled at the two of you heading towards the trees before turning back towards the house. You’d have to come home at some point. 

The ride with Mingyu was quiet for the most part. You enjoyed the peaceful, easy silence as the warm afternoon air gently moved past you. This was nice. There was no rush to be anywhere. No sounds of traffic or yelling like you had gotten used to in New York. It didn’t matter where you were in the city; there were always sirens and cars honking horns. You could always hear someone screaming at someone else. Out here there were just the sounds of the birds, peep frogs starting to come out, and crickets chirping. 

Mingyu liked happy on you. You had seemed so uptight since you had gotten to Montana. At first he thought that was just your personality but it quickly became apparent that that was how you had been living. He wasn’t used to that. Out here you lived with nature, not against it. Nature was calm for the most part and it didn’t rush you or expect you to do anything you couldn’t. Now that you were finally giving in to that way of living again, Mingyu could almost see the stress starting to slide off of you. 

“There’s a creek up the hill. We can stop up there and let the girls get somethin’ to drink and take a rest.” 

Nodding along with Mingyu’s words, you glance over at him, adjusting the reins in your hand as he gestures with his head forward, clicking his tongue, getting his horse to move a bit quicker. You smile, doing the same, feeling Lucy pick up speed with ease, following behind Mingyu. You had offered to ride another horse, to leave ‘his girl’ for him, but Mingyu insisted that you ride Lucy, saying she was the best of the girls. You had to admit he was on to something with that. She was the kind of horse that made you want to do this every day. “Good girl. Just a bit further.” 

Slowing down to a stop, Mingyu easily slides off his saddle before turning towards you, tilting his head, and lifting his hands up to help you. 

“I can do it…” 

“Yeah, I know, but I can help too.” 

He was incredibly frustrating and devastatingly handsome. Rolling your eyes, you swing your leg over the saddle and arch your back, slipping off and into Mingyu’s arms, taking a sharp breath when you realize you are face-to-face with him. “I—” 

While this hadn’t been Mingyu’s intention, having you this close and feeling your breath against his face wasn’t something that he hated. Lowering you to the ground, Mingyu clears his throat, feeling his cheeks burn slightly, though he tries to cover the feeling with a half smirk. “Sorry…” 

You heard his apology, but he didn’t really seem sorry, and you weren’t sure you wanted him to be. Furrowing your brows, you wait a moment to see if he’s going to step back. You feel Lucy move towards the creek, but when Mingyu doesn’t move, you meet his eyes, feeling the tension growing thicker. You find yourself wishing he would just kiss you if he’s going to look at you like that, and as if reading your mind, Mingyu sighs your name, leaning down to press his lips to yours. 

The moment seems to last forever. Your fingers bunch up his shirt against his stomach and Mingyu’s hands grip your hips firmly as his lips move over yours like he’s made for you. After a few minutes, you finally smile against his lips and lean your head back, feeling Mingyu chase your lips before he opens his eyes, searching yours for answers. 

“We should—” Licking your lips, you almost hate yourself for having to say what you know is true. You can feel the knots forming in your stomach as Mingyu’s thumbs trace the hint of your skin between your jeans and shirt. “We should go back to the house. It’s getting late.” 

Shaking his head, Mingyu glances up at the sky, noting where the sun is. It wasn’t that late; he knew that the sun would start to set in an hour or so, but it wasn’t anything to run from. You weren’t running from the setting sun; you were running from him. Tightening his grip on you, Mingyu whines your name, feeling you slide your hands over his chest towards his shoulders to gently push him back from you. 

“Seungcheol would be so—he’d be pissed if he knew this happened.” 

Mingyu knew you probably weren’t wrong, but it still didn’t make it any easier to hear and it also didn’t make you pushing him away easier to handle. Reaching for your hand, Mingyu groans under his breath when you let him catch the end of your fingers on his. “I—I why? This ain’t got nothin’ to do with him, Y/N.” 

Easing your fingers from Mingyu, you frown slightly and shake your head. “He told me to leave you alone. He’s already been so mad at me, Mingyu. I—this would just be one more thing he’d hate me for.” 

There was a lot for Mingyu to process and he did his best thinking while riding. Watching you in front of him, he moves his eyes along the back of your head and down your body before sighing to himself, thinking back on the kiss. It had been perfect. It wasn’t like Mingyu had never dated anybody. Hell, he was a ladies man if you asked any of the other boys on the ranch, but lately he had been wanting more than just a bed for the night. The kiss with you had meant more than any of the one-night stands he had experienced in the past year and the kiss had lasted less than five minutes. 

Helping you guide Lucy back into her stall, Mingyu searches your face as you praise the horse and thank her for letting you ride her and for the evening. You were a good person. So many people misjudged you without getting to know you. Mingyu had done it the first time he saw you and the others had done it without so much as talking to you for more than ten minutes. Your own brother judged you harshly, but now that Mingyu had taken the time to try to get to know you, he was seeing how sweet you were. He wanted to know you better and he wanted you in his life. He wanted that kiss back. 

“Thanks for taking me out there, Mingyu. It was fun.” You were almost free of the tension. You had felt Mingyu’s eyes on you from the moment that you had left the creek and headed back to the barn. You knew he wasn’t happy with what you had told him, but that was being an adult. Things happened that you weren’t going to enjoy and you had to suffer through not getting what you wanted. You had gotten used to that and good at accepting it. 

With one hand on the barn door, you gasp, feeling an arm around your waist pulling you back suddenly. You can see the desperation in Mingyu’s eyes. He wasn’t good at accepting things like you were and he made you want to be like him—to chase after what you wanted but that was dangerous. Whining his name, you shake your head as Mingyu gently pushes you against the wall, taking a step closer to you and leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. “We can’t do this. Cheol—” 

“I don’t care, Y/N. I just care about you.” This time Mingyu’s kiss is more urgent and he hopes that it speaks in volumes that he isn’t able to. He relishes in your little whines, your moans as he nips at your lips, feeling you arch your body against his. It’s almost overwhelming and the entire thing has his body on fire. You make him want to throw you over his shoulder and find the closest soft surface so he can show you exactly how he feels, but that’s too fast. You were too fucking important for him to act with his dick instead of his brain. 

Even though your brain is screaming for you to stop this and that Seungcheol is going to kill you—you can’t stop kissing Mingyu. It feels too good. Not just the action of kissing him, but the way it makes your lips feel tingly and your legs like jello. The kiss also makes your stomach feel like it’s full of butterflies and your chest feels like it's going to explode with how hard your heart is beating. You’ve felt this before but never like this. You were falling for this man and that was terrifying and exciting. 

Placing one last kiss on your lips, feeling you chase his lips this time, Mingyu grins gently, stroking your cheek with his calloused thumb as he looks down at you, seeing the hazy look in your eyes. That was how he wanted you to look all the time. You should always look like a woman who had been kissed stupid. If he had his way, he’d have you spoiled rotten and fucked dumb daily—but that was too fast. “So fuckin’ beautiful. I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep well, darlin’.” 

You find yourself biting your bottom lip to stop yourself from moaning at Mingyu’s words and his seemingly innocent touches as he strokes your cheek and wrist before pulling away completely. You could get used to that. There was something to be said about a southern boy and how they could treat a woman, and yet it scared the hell out of you how much you wanted him as you watched Mingyu walk away. “Goodnight, Gyu…” 

The smell of coffee drags you to the kitchen more than your will to move. You had forgotten how much of your muscles that riding a horse actually used. Grumbling a good morning to Seungcheol, you grab your favorite mug down from the cabinet and reach for the pot of coffee he is already nursing, not really feeling how his eyes follow you. 

“You look like shit.” 

Scoffing as you lean to open the fridge and take out your creamer, you glare in your brother’s direction before shrugging. “You say the nicest things to me, Cheol. I’m so glad I’m—” 

“How was your ride? This is what happens when you don’t do it for a decade… ‘Course I would’a asked you to go on a ride with me earlier, but… I ain’t Mingyu now, am I?” The look on your face was more than enough to tell Seungcheol all he needed to know. Your poker face had never been great and being caught off guard left you with no time to prepare your reaction. 

“Wh—it—” Shaking your head, you swallow hard, putting the creamer back in the fridge. Closing it, you let your hand linger on the door for a moment longer than necessary before turning back towards Seungcheol. “It was fine. Not a huge deal.” You weren’t going to let Seungcheol get the better of you when it came to this. He didn’t know anything more than you had gone for a ride with Mingyu. That was innocent. Hell, you hadn’t done anything wrong anyway. “We can go for ride anytime you—” 

“Don’t start this, Y/N. I told you I didn’t want you messin’ around with him.” 

Not only had Seungcheol cut you off mid-sentence but now he was lecturing you on your sex life once again. Scoffing after swallowing a sip of your coffee, you nod and furrow your brows, though the look on your face clearly shows how unamused you are—how unseriously you are taking your brother’s words. “Oh, yes, sir. I remember.” Gesturing to your temple, you pout at Seungcheol, watching his eyes narrow at your attitude. “Ingrained right in here, Dad.” 

“Shut the fuck up. Don’t be such a bi—” Stopping short, Seungcheol shakes his head and runs his hand over his mouth when you press your tongue against your cheek. “I didn’t mean that. Y/N, listen to me, alright? It wouldn’t end well for either of you. So quit your shit before I quit it for you.” 

Your blood was boiling, but you didn’t want to fight with Seungcheol today. You had done plenty of that over the past couple of weeks to last you for the rest of your life at this point. Shaking your head, you tip your cup over the sink pouring out the rest of your coffee as you hear him sigh your name under his breath. “Fine, Cheol. I didn’t do anything, and I’m not gonna do anything. Just really fucking sucks you can’t trust me, even just a little bit.” 

Your words change the look on Seungcheol’s face as he watches you move back around the island. As you start to move past him and out of the kitchen, Seungcheol frowns and reaches out to grab your wrist loosely, pulling you back towards him slightly. “Hey… I’m sorry. I trust you. I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.” 

Guilt bites at you when you meet Seungcheol’s eyes. While you were hurt by his words, it didn’t make lying to him feel any better. You knew that it wasn’t the end of the world that you and Mingyu had kissed. It didn’t have to happen again and no one had to know about it. “Sure. I’m alright, Cheollie. I’m gonna get ready and work on more of the paperwork.” 

You hadn’t lied to Seungcheol. While you were trying to get away from the conversation surrounding Mingyu, you did have more of the paperwork to attend to. There were still two buildings left on the property for you to look over and today it was the ranch hand’s quarters. Now that you were inside said building, you were almost wishing that you could have that conversation again. 

It wasn’t hard to tell that some of the ranch hands weren’t sure how to feel about you. There was one in particular, Chan, who couldn’t seem to control his face no matter how many times you smiled at him. He didn’t seem impressed by you and you were trying to work quickly and get out of everyone’s hair but especially his. “Um, so—” 

“That’s my bunk. All that shit is mine.” 

Swallowing hard, you meet Chan’s eyes as another man, this one blonde and with much kinder eyes, whispers for him to shut up under his voice. You liked him better; his name was Soonyoung. 

“No, man. She said she needed to make note of things that belong to the ranch. Well, none of the shit on my bunk belongs to the ranch.” 

It had been a long time since you had felt this uncomfortable around people. Clearly they had heard something about you, and perhaps Seungcheol had shared his feelings about you when it came to the ranch in general. You couldn’t blame them—blame Chan—for being upset with you. “I’m not going to disturb your belongings, Chan. I honestly don’t need anything in this ro—” 

“Then what the hell are you—” 

“‘Cause it’s her goddamn property, Chan. The fuck you being so disrespectful for?” Hanging his hat on a hook next to the door, Mingyu furrows his brows tightly, feeling the tension in the house as he looks around at each person. It’s only when his eyes land back on Chan that his nose flairs with displeasure. “And get your damn feet off the table. How many times do I gotta tell you this is a house and not the goddamn barn?” 

You could hear Mingyu and Chan arguing behind you, their volume a bit quieter as if trying to keep it from you as you turn your back to give them space. It wasn’t as if you were that far away, but you could put up the guise as if you were actually focused on your task. Licking your lips, you look down at your iPad and glance around the room before moving towards the living space and jotting down a couple of notes, feeling eyes hot on your back. 

Slapping the back of Chan’s head, Mingyu’s eyes burn as he glances towards you and mouths, ‘Now!’ causing the younger man to recoil from his hand, afraid he will get hit again. “I—Miss Choi? Ma’am… I apologize for being such an ass. Know it don’t make up for it, but—” 

You hadn’t expected Chan to apologize to you; in fact, you didn’t feel like you deserved one. You were invading their space. While, yes, this was your family’s property, you didn’t feel like there was much room for you to lay claim no matter what the paperwork had stated. Beyond that, you felt that the ranch hand’s quarters were theirs; if it hadn’t been for the inventory you were required to make, you wouldn’t have ever bothered them. Shaking your head, you offer Chan another soft smile before meeting Mingyu’s eyes, watching his hand slowly relax on the other man’s shoulder. “It’s not a problem. I’m alright. I’ll be out of your hair in just a couple of minutes. If anyone should be apologizing, it’s me.” 

Mingyu’s stomach was in knots as he watched you finish your list. You seemed different today. You seemed meeker than you had the day before. You had avoided his eyes a few times already and declined anything to drink or eat even as he cooked for the rest of the boys. “I make more than enough for you and Seungcheol.” 

“And while I’m sure that’s true, I’ve bothered you all plenty. Have a good evening.” Tapping your nails against the door frame, you lower your head respectfully, feeling four sets of eyes lingering on you until you close the door behind you. It had been hard to breathe around Mingyu even with the buffer of all the other ranch hands, but finally you were able to take in a deep breath of fresh air. 

“I admit it… She’s not a bitch.” 

Rolling his eyes at Chan, Jun sighs, leaning back in his chair, letting his eyes move over to Mingyu as he finishes up the stew he had decided to make. “Figured she wasn’t; you’re just a dick, Chan. Mingyu likes her, so she’s gotta be good people.” The way that Mingyu flinches at the accusation of him liking you tells Jun everything he needs to know. 

“And she’s fuckin’ gorgeous. I don’t know how you could yell at her to begin with. I’d rather get on my knees and beg for her to yell at me or somethin’.” 

Soonyoung, more often than not, thought with his dick more than his brain, but rarely did it get him in too much trouble. This time, however, it caused Mingyu’s shoulders to square and for him to toss down the wooden spoon that he had been stirring the stew with. “Don’t talk like that, ya got me? Finish the food, ya fuckin’ selves. I got shit to do.” 

Watching Mingyu open the door and slam it shut, Soonyoung feels like he has whiplash. Jun is the only one who moves to the stove to take Mingyu’s place and he’s the only one who smiles. 

“I—the fuck was that about? I didn’t do anythin’ wrong did I? He’s said worse ‘bout women before…” 

Adjusting the heat on the stove, Jun shakes his head and chuckles under his breath. “You are just clueless. Ain’t your fault that your brain don’t work fast enough sometimes.” Bringing the spoon to his lips, Jun nods approvingly of the taste of the stew before reaching up to the cabinet to bring down three bowls as he tries to explain the situation in a way that Soonyoung and Chan will understand. “Mingyu likes her. Chan was being a dick so that pissed him off and then you had the balls to say—” 

“Ah, fuck! Why didn’t he just say he liked her? I wouldn’ta said nothin’ ‘bout her like that—least not in front of him! You think he’s gonna kick my ass?” 

That was something Jun didn’t have the answer to, so instead he just gave Soonyoung a pity pat on the shoulder as he handed him a bowl of Mingyu’s stew. 

Mingyu had hoped that you would still be outside when he left, but instead of finding you waiting for him, he only saw the sky beginning to change colors as the sun started to get lower on the horizon. He knew that you had been working on your list again all day; you had gone from spot to spot on the ranch so maybe you were heading back towards the main house. 

Jogging to catch up with you, Mingyu calls your name in such a pleading tone that it almost wills you to stop and wait on him. When he does finally catch up with you, he leans over, resting his hands on his thighs, taking a deep breath. “Fuck… I don’t run like I used’ta.” 

You knew you should keep going—tell him that you needed to get something done so you didn’t have time to talk. But, as you watched Mingyu, his brows lifting as he smiled at you still catching his breath, you couldn’t make your feet move. “You saying you’re out of shape, Kim Mingyu?” 

Licking his lips, feeling the drier air starting to dry them out, Mingyu squints at you before standing up. “No. I work out. Hell, woman… you know I throw hay almost every damn day. Shit… are you out of shape? I should—” You were laughing at him. Mingyu wasn’t sure what he should feel, but what washed over him was fondness as your cheeks filled up slightly with your smile. God, you were so pretty it hurt his heart. It had hurt him to say goodnight to you and it hurt him to just look at you now and not kiss you. “I—I wanted to see if you wanted to meet me later.” 

Your smile fading, you lower your eyes and scrunch your nose, trying to think how to answer Mingyu’s question. There was how you wanted to answer it and how you knew you should answer it. “Hmm… I can’t. Cheol—uh, Cheol, he knows we went on the ride yesterday. He was pretty mad about it, so it’d be a bad idea.” 

It’s so clear to Mingyu that what you are saying and what you want aren’t one and the same. Sighing under his breath, Mingyu glances around before reaching for your hand, hearing you whisper his name, but you don’t pull back from him. “What? Ain’t allowed to hold your hand?” 

Now he was being willfully ignorant. Glancing towards the house, you whine under your breath. Even though it's a decent distance away from you and Mingyu, you know that if Seungcheol came looking for you, he’d see you both clearly from the windows or the patio. So instead of standing in the middle of the dirt path that leads back from the barns and the ranch hand quarters, you turn towards the barn, bringing Mingyu with you. 

Once you are more hidden by the large barn, you meet Mingyu’s eyes and work your fingers from his, feeling him cling to you, a whine slipping from his lips. “I already told you. Cheol, he—” 

“He what? He ain’t here right now, Y/N.” When you look away from him, Mingyu reaches up to gently turn your face towards him, feeling you take a step back towards the barn. With each step back, he takes a step forward until your back is against the door and he is inches from you. “I like you.” 

“No, you don’t.” Your rebuttal on Mingyu’s confession leaves your mouth so quick that you watch his eyes search for meaning in yours before he laughs, causing you to knock your head back against the wooden door. “You like the idea of me. I don’t want to fuck up your life and your friendship with my brother.” 

Sliding his hand along the inside of your forearm, Mingyu shakes his head and furrows his brows. If you had been any other woman, he might have let it go, not chased so hard, but there was something about you that had him whipped. He had kissed you twice and already he was struggling to breathe, wanting another one. “First of all, you don’t get to say who I like and who I don’t. I don’t just like some idea of you. That’s some philosophy bullshit and I don’t believe in it.” Watching you roll your eyes at him, Mingyu grins, stepping one step closer so that his knee rests against your inner thigh. “Second, you ain’t fuckin’ up a damn thing, darlin’. I—if you don’t want him to know, he ain’t gotta know. Just don’t run from me.” 

Darlin’. Closing your eyes to the pet name, you curse your body for how it betrays you. Everything that Mingyu was doing was right. His hand on your skin had chill bumps erupting under his touch. His knee on your thigh had you almost willing to settle on his leg, but worst of all it was that fucking pet name. You wanted to run, but right now you wanted to run to him and not away. “He’ll hate me—” 

“Nah, he won’t. Don’t talk ‘bout him anymore.” Brushing his fingers up your arm, Mingyu tilts his head as he takes your bag from your shoulder, putting it on the ground and meets your eyes, really looking at you this close. You were breaking his damn heart by just existing. How had he lived 27 years without you in his life? Sliding his hand along your hip, Mingyu grunts when you gasp his name and it’s like a siren call pulling his lips to yours. 

The kiss is heated, but not rushed. Mingyu didn’t wanna rush a damn thing with you and yet he didn’t want to let you go either, so when you cling to his shirt and your knees start to buckle, he does what’s best. Hands slide under your ass to the back of your thighs as Mingyu lets you wrap your legs around his waist, feeling your fingers thread into the back of his hair. This was heaven. The sun was warm as it set on his back and you were a dream come true. 

You were warm in his arms. Your lips were soft, and your moans were going straight to his cock as he tried to keep himself from getting hard in vain. It really wasn’t possible, especially with how good it felt to be between your legs even like this. Rocking his hips against yours, Mingyu furrows his brows and grunts into the kiss when you nip at his bottom lip, enjoying the feeling of him against you. 

“Fuck…” Mingyu couldn’t remember the last time he had done something like this. High school maybe?  College? The backseat of some car where he could barely move enough to drag his clothed cock between some girl’s legs. You were different. This was different. Mingyu felt desperate. He was practically rutting his hips to meet the way you were rolling yours down over him as you kissed the life out of him. He was so close, right on that edge when you whimpered his name and leaned your head back away from him. 

“This—this is—we can’t do this right now.” You didn’t even believe the words you were saying. You didn’t want to say them. You could feel your panties sticking to your folds uncomfortably as Mingyu took shallow breaths against your jaw. “I’m sorry—” 

“No, hey, no apologizing to me. Nuh-uh, darlin’.” Taking your chin between his forefinger and thumb, Mingyu tilts your head back towards him so he can place a sweet kiss on your lips before he helps you stand on your own and leans to pick up your bag for you. 

Though Mingyu was saying one thing, your anxiety was telling you another. Adjusting the strap of your bag over your shoulder, you furrow your brows as Mingyu adjusts his jeans and smiles at you sweetly. 

“Go on now, beautiful. I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” 

This was the furthest you had traveled from the main house and the last of the property that would need to be inventoried. From what you remembered about the old farmhouse on the edge of the property, it was falling apart—one swift wind from being knocked over, as your father had always put it—but standing in front of it now, you were stunned. The once derelict house was very much standing and it was clear that someone had been working on repairing it for some time now. 

Moving up the steps, you run your fingers over the stair railing. The wood is smooth, as if a lot of care had gone into sanding it down to perfection. Climbing the few stairs up to the porch, you listen carefully for anyone inside the house before knocking lightly, feeling it push forward. “Oh… Um, hello? Is there anyone here?” 

You are met with silence as you step inside of the house. Your eyes search for anyone else, a clue as to who might be fixing up the house, but instead you find yourself overwhelmed with how beautiful the inside already is. When you and Seungcheol had been younger, you would sneak out to this house and run through the halls as your brother would jump over broken furniture and holes in the floor—this wasn’t the same house. 

Wiping his hands off on his jeans, Mingyu furrows his brows at what sounds like someone’s voice. Taking the earbud out of his ear, he licks his lips and puts the pencil in his other hand behind his ear before heading towards the stairs. It was rare that he got evenings like this. Working on a ranch was hard. It was sunrise to sundown almost every day, but for a ranch foreman, it felt like he worked 24/7. When he did get a few hours to himself, Mingyu was always here—working on the house, rebuilding it from the ground up, making it his. 

No one really came this far out on the property. That was one of the reasons Mingyu loved it so much. The ranch was quiet in its own way, but out here, this was peace. So seeing you wandering through the living room not only confused him but also brought a smile to his face as well. While Mingyu didn’t mind guests, he preferred to be alone in times like this—but you were becoming an exception. 

“Y/N?” 

Hearing your name, you jump, having not expected to hear anything after the few minutes of welcomed silence. With your hand on your chest over your heart, you turn to meet Mingyu, seeing the surprise in his eyes as well as the smile on his face. “Hi. I—uh, hi. Why are—what are you doing all the way out here?” 

You were devastatingly beautiful and the way the words slipped off your tongue, even while you were flustered, caused Mingyu to chuckle under his breath as he moved into the room with you glancing around. “Well, I—darlin’, I live here. What are you doin’ all the way out here?” 

Shaking your head, you look around quickly again, ashamed that you hadn’t realized that someone was living in the house. Of course you had noticed that someone was remodelling it, but looking closer, you could see little signs of life among the slight chaos. “Oh! I didn’t know. I’m sorry, Mingyu. I shouldn’t have just walked inside like—” 

While you spiraled, Mingyu just smiled fondly and moved closer to you until he could slide his hands over yours, pulling you closer to him. “‘Course you should. How were you supposed to know? Not like we’ve talked about where I live anyhow.” 

Feeling your cheeks heat up as Mingyu presses his thumbs into your palms in small circles, you tilt your head trying to feign confidence. “I—well, no, we didn’t. But, I didn’t expect here. This house has been falling down for years. God, for decades.” 

“I know. I like a project. ‘Sides, your dad gave it to me and told me to take care of it. What I aim to do. Think I’m doin’ an alright job.” Swinging your hands along with his at your hips, Mingyu smiles as he looks around the room, pleased with his progress. There was still a ways to go but for doing it mostly on his own, he had come far in a short amount of time. “You wanna see the rest of the house?” 

Mingyu’s enthusiasm about something he cared about—something he loved—was infectious. You find yourself matching his smile as he laces his fingers with yours when you nod, agreeing to the tour. “As long as it’s safe. Last time I was here with Cheol he broke his arm on the stairs trying to help me when I fell through them…” 

Shock is evident on Mingyu’s face as he leads you out of the room only to stop, opening his mouth and closing it once before taking a deep breath. “Ain’t nobody fallin’ through the stairs anymore. I repaired them and the floor. That was the first thing I did besides replacing the rotten wood in the support underneath the house.” Gesturing forward, Mingyu squeezes your hand tighter as if not willing to let you go as he leads you through to the dining room. “Replaced all the windows on both floors and what hardwood I was able to salvage, I did. It’s a pity to get rid of all the original floors if I don’t gotta.” 

Letting Mingyu lead you through a few other rooms, you don’t realize how much you are smiling until he shows you the staircase and you meet his eyes. “Looks a hundred thousand times safer than it did. You put so much work into this, Gyu…” 

His name shortened on your lips is almost as nice as hearing you call him a pet name. Mingyu’s neck, cheeks, and ears heat up, a slight tinge of red at the tips of his ears as he stutters through his words and helps you up the stairs by moving his hand from yours to your lower back. “I—well, yeah! I ju—just wanna put my heart into whatever I do. No reason to half ass the place you’re gonna call home.” Gesturing with his free hand to the right, Mingyu lowers his head with another shy smile when you practically coo at him and his words. “Stop it… Jus—I ain’t done much to the two bedrooms on this side, but the master bedroom is ‘bout done and I finished the bathroom.” 

God, you want to kiss him. It’s dangerous how much you are falling for this man as he scratches the back of his neck and smiles at you like you are holding the sun in your hands. He reminds you of the stability that you knew you had with your dad and with Seungcheol. The stability you ran away from when it got smothering—the stability you long for but don’t feel like you deserve. He’s perfect and it’s terrifying. 

Humming under your breath, you step away from Mingyu and move into the master bedroom, looking around with an approving nod before moving into the bathroom taking a deep breath. It was more than the fact that it was beautiful, every piece of furniture planned out perfectly; it was that everywhere Mingyu surrounded you. In the bathroom his body wash and cologne overwhelmed your senses, causing your knees to feel weak. In the bedroom the sense of comfort made you want to beg to stay—and yet you didn’t. Begging to stay would be admitting how much you were falling in love with him. “It’s so nice, Gyu. I, uh—I was supposed to do the inventory thing here, but honestly none of this belongs to the ranch anymore so—” 

Watching you gesture around the room as if you are talking about the entire house, Mingyu nods along with you even as his brows furrow. He could tell that something was bothering you. It didn’t matter what words were coming out of your mouth; they didn’t quite match the way you were saying them. They didn’t line up with how you were acting. “Oh, right. I—uh, I mean, technically the house is still y’all’s. I mean, yeah, your dad verbally said it was min—” 

“Then it’s yours. I’m not taking that from you or him. Daddy never did anything without a reason. You were—you are important. This is yours. I’ll make sure that’s solidified in the paperwork, alright?” Sliding your fingers over Mingyu’s wrist, you feel your breath get caught in your throat when he whispers your name and holds your fingers in his. “I should get back. Cheol will start wondering where I am.” 

You weren’t wrong, but Mingyu wished he could convince you to stay. Here felt safe with you. There wasn’t any expectations and all Mingyu wanted to do was to hold you and tell you how much he was falling in love with you. Lacing his fingers with yours once more, Mingyu nods his head towards the hallway as he clears his throat. “Uh, yeah, then I can walk you out. You—uh, you want me to walk you back up to the house?” 

Staying at Mingyu’s side, the sadness in his voice makes your heart beat quicker as you both start down the stairs. You start to tell him no, that you can make it back home just fine on your own, but you make the mistake of meeting his eyes. “Mingyu…” 

You don’t mean to whine his name the way you do. It’s almost pitiful how upset you sound—how needy you sound, causing him to stop in his tracks to catch his breath. There’s no more time for overthinking. Mingyu just reacts almost instantly, turning back up the stairs pulling you towards him, feeling your legs wrap around his waist. 

Lying over you on the bed, Mingyu slides his hand along your side, feeling your teeth catch his bottom lip. It feels like a fever dream having you here on his bed. It’s what he wants for the rest of his life—your hands tracing his shoulders, arms, and back as you whine his name so breathlessly. “I’ll give you everything, darlin’...” 

The promise laced in Mingyu’s words simultaneously breaks your heart and excites you. Tears threaten to spill over the rims of your eyes as you lean your head back against the bed, feeling his lips brushing over your skin, leaving chillbumps as a reminder of where he has been. It feels so unfair to want someone and something so badly when you know it’s unattainable. You know you should run away—spare yourself and especially Mingyu the pain of what would come after this, but selfishness takes hold of you.  

Pushing your shirt up your torso, Mingyu groans under his breath at the feeling of your fingers in his hair. He could feel your pretty eyes on him and he had a point to prove. No one could love you like him. No one would ever make you feel this way again, not if he had anything to say about it. 

Every kiss earns him a sweet moan from you and urges Mingyu to move quicker. Soon your shirt is discarded on the floor along with his while his fingers carefully work open the clasp of your jeans. “You are so pretty. So damn perfect.” Mingyu knew he was whining; it was almost painful to speak instead of kissing you, but you needed to know how he felt. “I got you, baby.” 

Holding tightly to the comforter, you lift your hips and muffle your moan behind your bitten lips when Mingyu keeps muttering his soft praises against your skin. Tears were fresh on your cheeks and you wanted to hate him for making you want this, but even you couldn’t lie to yourself that well. You were upset because this was love. You loved feeling Mingyu’s hands and lips on you. He was like the sun, keeping you impossibly warm as you tried to cling to the winter frost in your heart. “Mingyu—” 

“Yeah, baby?” Meeting your eyes as he kisses his way back up your legs, Mingyu smiles against your skin and hums happily when you smile back at him. “I’m gonna love the hell outta you if you’ll let me. Lift your hips again for me.” 

Lifting from the bed once more as Mingyu slides your panties from your hips and down your legs, you swallow hard at the way his words make you feel. He hadn’t said he loved you but it was close enough. It was keeping you in his bed, letting you hold on to this dream for a little bit longer. “Now, you…” 

“I was gonna… I’m just lookin’ at you.” Dropping the last of your clothes onto the floor, Mingyu shakes his head and runs his hand over his lips to keep himself from groaning as his cock throbs in his pants. When you whine his name again in an attempt to keep him focused, he grins before moving to his feet, finally doing what you want. 

You watch as Mingyu quickly undoes his jeans and pushes them down with his boxers before kicking them from his feet. “I—” Laughing as your words get caught in your throat, you find Mingyu tilts his head at you, his brows furrowed as he moves back towards you and the bed. “Just—I expected you to be a little sexier about it.” 

“Ain’t got patience to be sexy ‘bout takin’ off my pants right now when I got you on my bed. Hell, woman… we should be happy I even got them off without fallin’.” Gesturing towards you before sliding his hands along your legs, silencing your laugh when you bite at your lips, enjoying his touch. “Have you seen yourself? Hm? Like this, I mean? I’ll never get tired of it.” 

A moan slips from your lips and Mingyu captures it with his own immediately when his thumb brushes over your nipple, feeling it harden instantly. Speaking on your lips, he smiles between kisses, his fingers moving almost torturously slow over your breast, enjoying how soft you are. “No? Then one day I should put you in front of a mirror while I make love to you. Let you see what I see for a bit.” 

Before you are able to speak or argue with him, Mingyu silences you with a kiss that takes your breath away. Arching your back from the bed, you scratch lightly at Mingyu’s shoulder, rolling your hips down over his thigh, begging in your own way for him to do something, anything, before you combust. 

While Mingyu seemed confident and focused on the surface, each time your hips rocked over his thigh, he was losing his mind. You were so wet and soft. Mingyu wasn’t sure if you even knew what you were doing to him with your sweet little moans and whines. He knew that you wanted more and he was struggling to not move too quickly and regret it later. This mattered to him; it had to matter more than some quick hookup. That wasn’t what this was to Mingyu. That wasn’t what you were to him. He was holding forever in his arms if you’d let him. “Shh, baby… I got you. I promise…” 

More promises and yet this time you weren’t letting yourself be afraid. Your mind was racing as Mingyu’s lips once again moved lower. He took his time trying to kiss every mole and scar from your neck to your chest, but it was when he reached your stomach that you couldn’t stop yourself from squirming under him. “Ah—Gyu! You’re driving me crazy. Please? Please do something!” 

You didn’t have to wait long to get what you wanted when Mingyu smiled against your hip and traced the line of your thigh to your knee, helping you put your leg over his shoulder. “Impatient…” Mingyu hears the complaint on your lips just as he hears it get lost in your moan when he traces your wet folds with his warm tongue. He had known you were going to taste good. There was no way you wouldn’t, but what he hadn’t expected was how addicted he would feel after just one taste. 

Furrowing his brows, Mingyu groans your name and wraps his arm around your hip, pulling you down in the bed towards him so you are closer to his mouth. He would do this every day and night if you’d let him. He’d be your alarm clock, gently waking you up with his lips wrapped around your clit so he could feel your fingers tug at his hair. He would happily help you settle down for the night by doing the same thing only to feel you cum on his tongue as your heel dug into his back and you whined his name like a prayer. 

“So good… Oh, fuck! Please… Please don’t stop.” It seemed that you didn’t even need to ask that of Mingyu. He was determined and talented with his mouth. You felt him all over your body with how quickly he was pushing you over the edge. He was racing through your blood and in your lungs with every deep breath that you struggled to take. Crying out his name once more, you tighten your thighs around his head and fall back on the bed feeling boneless. 

If Mingyu hadn’t had more restraint, he would have cum right when your thighs closed around his head. You were trembling under him all while whispering his name. This was heaven. You were heaven and his goddess. Mingyu had never been a religious man, but in this bed you had made him a believer. 

Licking his lips, Mingyu glances up from between your legs to watch you come down from your high. That was better than any sunrise or sunset he had ever seen. Your lips were parted softly as you took deep breaths, causing your soft breasts to rise and fall, enticing him up the bed. 

“You are so fuckin’ beautiful. I can’t stand it…” Mingyu’s voice was soft but you could still hear the way he was having to restrain himself laced in it. Strong and calloused fingers move along your body as he moves up in the bed to lay over you, his lips brushing over yours carefully. “Wanna be inside of you so bad.” 

“Then what are you waiting for?” 

Smiling into the kiss, Mingyu pulls back just enough to nudge his nose against yours before he sighs. “You sure? We don’t gotta—” 

“Kim Mingyu, if you don’t put your fucking cock in—” 

“Woah, alright. Hell fire… I’m just tryin’ to be a gentleman.” Muttering under his breath, Mingyu smiles even as he complains about your dirty mouth and how he needs to clean it up. Just when you start to tell him that you don’t need him to do anything more than fuck you, the words get caught in your throat. With one hand holding your knee to his hip, Mingyu uses his other to carefully line himself up with your needy entrance before very slowly easing his cock into you. 

The stretch is intense. You find yourself wishing you had asked him to use his fingers first, but soon the painful stretch becomes a welcomed one. Gasping for a deep breath, you throw your head back against the bed, feeling Mingyu’s eyes on you as you get overwhelmed with the feeling of being full. “Shit. Oh, my god, Gyu… Move.” 

Mingyu had managed to get most of his cock in you, but you were clenching around him like a vice. You had him gritting his teeth and digging his nails into the meatiest part of your thigh when you finally asked him to move. He was thanking god or whoever was listening that you had let him move when you did, he wasn’t going to last long. You felt too good. You were warm, soft, and wet. Every thrust he got deeper, you were able to take more of his cock and it was driving Mingyu insane. “Fuck, baby. You are so good. Holy shit… you’re made for me.” Groaning against your jaw, Mingyu thrusts deep and hard, hearing you moan loudly, matching how he felt. “Made for my cock, huh? Never leaving my bed.” 

You were seeing stars with every hard thrust. Mingyu was by far the biggest man you had been with in more ways than one and your body was not only adjusting to it, but learning to crave it. You find yourself trying to imagine being in bed with someone else, wanting to separate yourself from the moment and knowing that Mingyu is the one making you feel this good, but you are reminded by his words that it’s only him. There is no one else and even you know there will be no one else. No one had ever made you feel like this. You were floating. There were no bones in your body. There was just you and Mingyu. No thoughts. No today or tomorrow. Just you and Mingyu. 

“I can tell you’re close.” Muttering against the shell of your ear, Mingyu groans, feeling you clench around him tighter. There was no way you weren’t going to cum for him. He could almost feel your orgasm rolling through you as he rocked his hips to meet yours, hearing you sob his name. “Cum for me, baby.” Burying his face against your shoulder, Mingyu bites down and furrows his brows tightly when you do fall over that edge. Your orgasm is so intense that it takes everything in him not to cum right then. He has to force himself to wait a moment longer so he can ease himself out of you; only then does he paint your thighs and lower stomach with his cum. 

Feeling suddenly empty, you pout, keeping your eyes closed even as Mingyu tries to catch his breath beside you. As if he can sense your sadness, the loneliness creeping into you, Mingyu kisses your shoulder, and his fingers trace your lips. Instead of sadness, you get overwhelmed with anxiety and worry, turning to meet his eyes and seeing only love in his. 

“I lo—” 

“I should head back home, Gyu.” 

Swallowing his words, Mingyu tries not to let your sudden shift in mood scare him, but it's impossible. He had wanted to tell you something, but clearly you weren’t ready to hear it. He didn’t want you to leave, but looking in the direction of the window with you, Mingyu just sighs as you move to sit up beside him. 

“It’s gonna get dark soon and Cheol—” Shaking your head, you feel your heart beat quicker as the panic really starts to set in. Even when Mingyu’s fingers wrap around your wrist trying to get you to calm down, to not rush off, you pull your arm away and slide off the bed to gather your clothes, obviously shaking. “Cheol might come looking for me. That would be really fucking bad for both of us.” 

The idea of Seungcheol coming to look for you here didn’t scare Mingyu. He’d tell your brother exactly how he felt about you. He didn’t understand why you were so scared of this or why Seungcheol would be so mad about it, but the fear in your voice made Mingyu sit up and help you finish getting dressed before he did the same. 

Walking hand in hand with you to the door, Mingyu swallows hard when you finally pull your hand from his. There is so much he wants to say to you, but the look on your face tells him that you aren’t ready to hear it. Instead of speaking, Mingyu just smiles sadly and reaches up to brush his thumb over your cheek, happy when you don’t pull away. “I’ll see you later, Y/N.”

Tears bite at your eyes the entire walk home. You fight them and the pain in your chest until you are inside your house and meet an annoyed Seungcheol sitting at the kitchen island. 

“Where the hell have you been? I tried callin’ you. I was worried ‘bout you, Y/N. I was fixin’ to have the boys get with me and start lookin’...” 

Thinking on your feet, you force a smile and a laugh, rolling your eyes as you take out your iPad and gesture to it. “Just finishing up the last of the property list, Cheollie. You are so fucking dramatic. I guess my phone died…” 

“Died? How—how the fuck do you let your phone die?” 

It was clear that Seungcheol wasn’t buying your story completely, but you weren’t going to fold. Taking your phone out of your purse, you show it to him and luckily for you, it hadn’t been a lie. Trying to power the phone on, you are just met with a notice to charge your phone and an annoyed look on your brother’s face. “See… I must have forgotten to plug it up last night. Everyone makes mistakes, Seungcheol.” Showing him the iPad once more, you gesture towards the living room and sigh. “I have to finish up a few more things.” 

Following you out of the room, Seungcheol narrows his eyes and sighs. “Yeah, yeah. Give me your phone. I’ll go plug it in. Seriously, don’t do that shit again. I was freakin’ the hell out.” 

You had managed to sit down on the couch and put your purse on the floor before Seungcheol had made it to you. He was hovering and it was reminding you why you enjoyed your own space in the city. Giving him an annoyed look, you tilt your head and lean over to pick up your purse, not realizing your shirt has slipped down your shoulder until you offer Seungcheol your phone and feel his eyes burning a hole into your skin. “Wha—take it. Why are yo—” 

“Your phone died?” Watching you nod and try to offer you the phone again, Seungcheol looks from your face back to your shoulder and the hickey starting to form. He wasn’t as fucking stupid as you clearly thought he was. “Kim fuckin’ Mingyu.” 

Shocked to hear Mingyu’s name on your brother’s lips, you sit up a bit straighter and watch as your brother wipes his hand over his lips, his eyes full of anger. It’s then that you realize what he is looking at and use your phone’s reflection to see what he is seeing. “I—no, Cheol. It’s just a bruise.” 

“I’m so goddamn tired of your lying! I’m gonna kill him.” 

You barely have time to react before Seungcheol has turned on his heels and is heading for the door. Rushing to your feet, you adjust your shirt and chase after him, calling his name in a panic, feeling your blood run cold. 

The house was too quiet now. Mingyu had liked it before, but that was before you had been there and made him realize how alone he was. Sighing into his beer, Mingyu furrows his brows as he sits on the top step looking out over the field leading back towards the ranch and to you. He wished you’d come back; he could almost picture you running back towards him and back into his arms. He’d explain how much he loved you and how he didn’t want you to leave him again. Shaking his head, Mingyu takes a long drink of his beer and leans his head back only to furrow his brows, wondering if he’s hearing things when he does hear someone shout his name. 

“Kim Mingyu!” Seungcheol was seeing red and he was out for blood. He had tried to trust you and he thought he could trust his best friend, but clearly he had been an idiot for trying to do either of those things. Seeing the porch light in the distance, Seungcheol ignores your panicked whines of his name as you run behind him trying to keep up. All Seungcheol could see now was Mingyu moving to his feet in front of him. 

“Hey, Cheol?” 

That was all that Seungcheol let the man get out of his mouth before his fist made contact with it. He had never hit his best friend before, but then again, his best friend had never fucked his sister after being told to stay the hell away from her. Why could neither of you listen? 

“Choi Seungcheol! Stop it!” 

Mingyu’s jaw was on fire; he could taste blood and he felt like he was seeing double as he shook his head and met Seungcheol’s eyes. He could hear you screaming Seungcheol’s name but all he could see was the man’s fury as he clenched his fist and swung again. This time Mingyu knew what was coming and moved quickly enough to not get hit. That only seemed to make Seungcheol more angry and more determined to fight. 

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you, Mingyu! What did I tell you?!” Pointing his finger towards Mingyu, Seungcheol growls out his words before you grab his arm and try to pull it down in an attempt to stop your brother. This, just like Mingyu dodging his last punch, only makes Seungcheol more furious and causes him to push back against you hard, sending you to the ground with a painful thud. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Seungcheol?” Now Mingyu was seeing red too. He would have been more willing to hear Seungcheol out if he hadn’t seen you fall to the ground, but your pitiful whine sent his head spinning and had him rushing towards his best friend. 

You watch in horror, trying to get to your feet quickly enough as Mingyu manages to land a painful blow to Seungcheol’s stomach. This was your worst nightmare. You had always managed to fuck up things at home, but never this badly. It was one thing for you to fight with your father or your brother, but causing your brother and his best friend to physically fight—this was a different low. Screaming at the top of your lungs for them to stop, you force your way between the two men, feeling Mingyu take a step back first, not willing to hurt you even as Seungcheol pushes against you, trying to finish this. “Please! Stop! I’m sorry! Cheol!” 

Stumbling backwards when your panicked screams finally seem to get through to him, Seungcheol glares first at you and then at Mingyu before pointing at him. “Get the fuck off my property. You're fired.” Turning his attention back to you, Seungcheol reaches for your arm, pulling you towards him hard. “And you get the hell back to the house!” 

You weren’t fighting for yourself anymore, even if Seungcheol’s grip hurt—you were mad that he was trying to force Mingyu out of his home. Slapping at your brother’s chest and finally his face, you meet his eyes with tears streaming down your face. “No! I will leave! Do you hear me? This is my fault. He isn’t going anywhere. Daddy gave him the house, Seungcheol! It isn’t yours to take.” Shaking your head as he starts to complain, you push him back again further away from Mingyu. “This is my fucking fault! I did this! Not Mingyu. I’ll leave in the morning.” 

“Y/N…” 

Hearing Mingyu’s voice, you turn towards him and shake your head before grabbing Seungcheol’s hand, trying to pull him with you. Mingyu watches you, feeling his heart break as you mutter for Seungcheol to come on, urging him back towards the ranch. Wiping the blood from his lips, he leans his head back and sighs loudly, drawing Seungcheol's and your attention back towards him. 

“You’re wrong, Cheol, and you know it.” Watching you shake your head, Mingyu just nods at you and meets Seungcheol’s eyes even as he glares at him. “She ain’t done nothin’ wrong and I—fuck I ain’t either. She shouldn’t have to leave. This is her home.” Gesturing behind him, Mingyu scoffs, though the pain is evident in his voice. “I’ll leave if that’s really what you want.” 

Tugging his hand from yours, Seungcheol shakes his head before running his fingers through his hair. He could already feel his ribs starting to hurt. He was going to be bruised and he was getting a headache. “I don’t give a fuck what you do, Mingyu. Clearly neither of you gives a shit about what I care about.” 

Trying to grab Seungcheol’s arm again, you whine when he keeps it from you again. “Cheollie…” Tears drip from your cheeks and on to your shirt as you start to walk back with him, but not before meeting Mingyu’s eyes and shaking your head. “Don’t go anywhere. That’s your house; I told you before.” You could see the pain in his eyes, the way he was almost begging you to stay there with him, but you couldn’t. You had to follow your family this time even if he hated you. 

Sniffling back your tears even as you move through the living room with Seungcheol, you watch as he pours himself a drink and sits down hard on the couch. He hadn’t spoken to you once on the walk back to the house. He had kept his eyes forward and no matter how many times you tried to whisper your apology, he ignored it. Even now as you watched him stare at the wall, you could feel the anger rippling off of him. 

“Cheol…” Your voice was meek and full of regret as you moved closer to your brother, finally moving to your knees near him on the couch. You couldn’t make him look at you, but you knew he could hear you. “I’m so fucking sorry. I know I lied. I—I disappoint you all the time. I ruined your friendship with Mingyu. I know you hate me and I don’t blame you.” Wiping tears from your cheeks as Seungcheol continues to seemingly ignore you, you whine into your words, feeling your heart being crushed. “I’m sorry. I love you and I know I fucked this up. I—I’ll go pack. I’ll leave in the morning. I swear.” 

Sniffing hard, Seungcheol takes another sip of his drink and puts it on the arm of the sofa, still not looking at you. “Don’t be fuckin’ stupid. You ain’t leavin’.” Daring to look at you finally, Seungcheol has to force himself to stay stoic when your tears cause his heart to ache. “I’m so fuckin’ pissed off at you, Y/N. You lied to me over and over again. It’s all you do—” 

“I’m sorry Cheollie! I—I’m not trying to lie to you. That wasn’t what I was tryin—” 

“Stop it. You say this shit. You always get my hopes up and then you do this.” Gesturing around him like you are supposed to see what he’s telling you, Seungcheol sighs and leans his head back. “You get back in my heart or in someone else’s, and you run.” 

A sob gets caught in your throat when you feel Seungcheol’s pain in his words. His anger had subsided and gotten replaced with something worse and it was eating you alive. “I—I’m not trying to hurt you or anyone else, Cheol. I—that—that’s why I…” 

Shaking his head, Seungcheol looks up at the ceiling to stop the tears in his eyes from falling when you try to explain yourself. He didn’t want your excuses. “Yeah, well, it’s what you’re good at and I just wish that once, just fuckin’ once, you weren’t.” 

It was as if the sky was as upset as Mingyu felt. From the moment that he had woken up, the storms had started. There had been few moments in the day when he could wander out during a dry spell and work on a task to keep his mind from lingering on you. You were all he wanted to think about and it seemed as if you were avoiding him as much as he was avoiding Seungcheol. 

Last night had not ended in the way that Mingyu would have hoped. He could still feel the pain in his lip and jaw. The bruise was already starting to turn an ugly color where his lip had split angrily, but at least he had stopped bleeding. That pain was nothing compared to what he felt in his chest when he watched you turn away from him every time you saw him come near. It wasn’t like he blamed you. He should leave you alone, but that was easier said than done when his heart ached from just thinking about you. 

The rain now was a perfect reminder of how he felt. It came in waves, soaking the ground and keeping him secluded—or so he thought. Mingyu hadn’t expected to see you again and he certainly hadn’t expected to see you watching the rain from the large barn door entrance. You looked too perfect just standing there. It felt wrong to just admire you for as long as Mingyu did, but he found himself afraid if he said anything too soon you might fly off like a bird towards the gray sky. It was only when it was unbearable to just watch that Mingyu moved closer and whispered your name just loud enough to be heard over the rain. 

You had thought that you were alone. The storms made it easy for you to think that. Everything was loud when the rain started to fall on the tin roofs of the barns. You had been trying to make it back to the house when the rain started to come down in sheets, pushing you into the barn for shelter. All day long the storms had come and gone quickly, but this one seemed to be holding on like it held a grudge—but when you hear your name, you realize that maybe that idea wasn’t as crazy as it seemed. 

Closing your eyes, you sigh and lower your head at Mingyu’s voice. There was no slipping away from him this time. No pretending like you didn’t hear him or that he didn’t see you standing where you were… You could feel your heart tightening as his fingers brushed over yours and he sighed your name once more, almost begging you without any other words to talk to him. 

“Mingyu, please stop…” You hear him start to speak again, but before he can try to plead his case, you bite the bullet, lifting your eyes to meet his sad ones. “Jus—just don’t, okay? Don’t do this.” Watching him shake his head, hurt and confusion in his gaze, you stay calm, keeping your own tears at bay as you force the words out. “I’m leaving soon. I’m gonna go back to the city. I mean… Let’s be serious, Mingyu… I’m not good for anyone.” 

It was clear what you were trying to do. Mingyu wasn’t an idiot. He could see the look on your face. See the tears sitting on the rims of your eyes even if you wouldn’t let them fall. You were doing your best to push him away and it wasn’t going to happen. Not while he was breathing. Scoffing, Mingyu slides his fingers against yours, taking your hand in his even as you whine his name and close your eyes as if trying to will yourself away from him and your feelings. “Tell me why? Huh?” 

Exasperated, you start to look away from Mingyu as you open your eyes, only for him to turn your face back towards him carefully. “Stop. Why are you doing this? I told you, I am leaving.” 

“And I asked why? Why do you gotta go? Answer that.” 

It seems like such a simple question, one that you should know the answer to as easy as breathing, but you falter. Shaking your head, you open your mouth and close it for a moment before taking a breath and gesturing towards him and then out at the ranch. “Because, Gyu! That’s where my life is. That’s where my job is.” 

Nodding along with your words, Mingyu tries to tighten his grip on your hand when you pull it away, causing him to sigh into his words. “Baby… Why can’t that be here? Huh? You got a life here—” 

“Don’t…” The tears that you had been keeping at bay finally fall onto your cheeks as you take a step back. “Don’t call me that.” 

Following you step by step without trying to push you away from him, Mingyu fights the urge to pull you into his arms and comfort you. The tears on your cheeks break his heart but also tell him that he’s right. “Why not?” 

You try to keep walking away from Mingyu, wanting to put more distance between what you want and what you know you can’t have when you feel the door of the barn against your back stopping you. A soft sob slips from between your lips, causing your words to soften. “Because… it hurts.” 

Giving into his need to touch you, to keep you safe as your voice shakes, Mingyu holds your wrists loosely, happy when you don’t pull away. “Why, baby?” You don’t answer right away; instead, you turn your head to the side, more tears slipping down your cheeks as he uses the pet name again, causing your heart to tighten in your chest. “Why does it hurt?” 

Mingyu watches you shake your head, your brows furrowing as you fight the urge to tell him the truth and if you should run away instead. “Is it ‘cause you might love me?” He knew it was bold of him to say and even bolder to assume, but he felt it when you kissed him. He could see it in your eyes even as you looked for your escape plan. 

Knocking your head back against the door, you shake your head and avoid Mingyu’s eyes for as long as you can until he wipes the tears from your cheeks. “Shut up.” You had never been afraid to tell men that you loved them in the past. The truth was that you had never meant it often. Those three words had been for the most part, just part of the routine. You’d meet a nice guy, move in for a while, say the words, and then get bored, but then Mingyu. The words weren’t just routine. They weren’t just words. 

Not hiding the way the corners of his lips pull up into a smile, Mingyu nods before leaning to brush his nose against yours, testing the waters. Would you pull away? Tell him to get the hell away from you. When you do neither of those things, your hands moving slide over his stomach, Mingyu bites his lips, letting out a slow breath once again and biting a bullet. “It’s alright, baby. I might just love you too.”  

The rain had gotten harder, but so had your tears. Shaking your head, you finally pull away, stepping out from the barn and feeling the rain begin to soak through your clothing as it washes away your tears. The idea that Mingyu loved you was overwhelming and it changed too much. If you ran away—did what you always did—you couldn’t get hurt, and you couldn’t hurt anyone else, only this time someone wasn’t letting you. 

It didn’t matter to Mingyu that he was getting soaked from the rain. He couldn’t stand the idea of you leaving him. He had seen that look on your face. He knew it in his heart how you felt even if you couldn’t say it yet. Licking the rain from his lips, Mingyu grabs your hand and meets your eyes when you whine his name. He can tell what is rain and what is your tears, but that doesn’t matter as his hand wipes it all from your cheeks so his lips can meet yours, hopefully saying everything you need to hear. 

Water drips from both you and Mingyu as he carries you into his house, letting the screen door slam close behind him. There wasn’t a single thing else on his mind than you in his arms at the moment with your lips on his. If it weren’t for the fact that he could feel you starting to shiver against him, Mingyu would have put you against the wall right against the front door and taken you right there. 

You hadn’t planned to end up back here, but then again you hadn’t planned on any of this. How could you have foreseen Kim Mingyu? How could you have imagined how one man would turn your entire life upside down and leave you so completely breathless with just a kiss or his strong hands keeping you secure in his arms? You had never been the type of woman to want to be carried or manhandled, but that also had changed when you had met Mingyu because now you found yourself being carried up the stairs and into his bathroom. “Gyu… put me down. I can walk…” 

“I know what you can do, baby.” Giving you his most blinding grin, Mingyu shakes his head as he sits you on the bathroom counter so he can slide his hands up your thighs under your wet dress. “And I know what I can do for you. Why the hell would I make you walk when I can do it for you?” Tsking as if it’s simple addition, he steps between your legs, urging you to lift your hips, letting him slip the dress further up your body and over your head. “Now I’m gettin’ you out of these wet clothes and into a warm shower.” 

Leaning back against the mirror, you bite at your bottom lip, letting your eyes move over Mingyu as he stands in front of you. “Yeah? I’m not the only one in wet clothes.” The rain had soaked you both to your skin. Mingyu’s white t-shirt clung to his chest, leaving little to your imagination, while water dripped from his hair. 

“Is that your way of askin’ me to join you?” 

Goosebumps were covering your skin, even as the steam had started to fill the room, making the air around you both warmer; it wasn’t enough to hide the effect Mingyu had on you. “What do you think? You gonna make me shower alone? After bringing me all the way here?” 

Mingyu had been good at keeping the confident facade up until that point. He was head over heels for you. You ask him to get on his knees and beg to shower with you at that point and he’d do it without so much as a question. Tugging his shirt over his head, he drops it on the floor next to your dress, meeting your eyes once again before tugging you to the end of the counter so that he can get his lips back on yours, speaking against them. “I’ll never make you do a single fuckin’ thing alone again, baby.” 

You wanted to give in to Mingyu, believe that you could have what he was promising. While a tiny voice inside your head told you to run, your heart was too lost on the moment. Furrowing your brows, you give into the kiss and melt into Mingyu’s touch. For once in a long time, you give yourself completely to the moment and to someone else, hoping they will catch you when you fall—and he does. 

It doesn’t take too much longer for Mingyu to have the rest of your clothes and his discarded on the floor or for him to have your back against the wall of the shower. Moaning into his mouth, you keep your legs tight around his waist, enjoying the overwhelming feeling of Mingyu pinned against you. “Please…” 

“Please?” Nudging his nose against your jaw, Mingyu grins and licks the water from his lips when you whine his name. “What? I’m just tryin’ to understand what you want from me, darlin’. I got you where I said I would…” 

He was frustrating in all the best ways. You could feel yourself clenching around nothing as Mingyu’s cock rested between your body and his. It wouldn’t take much for him to slide right into you and get you as full as he had the day before, but he was being coy. Two could play that game. Knocking your head back against the tile wall, you pout at Mingyu before rolling your hips towards him, watching his mouth fall open in a silent groan. “You did, but if this is all you’re gonna do… You might as well put me down and let me actually take a shower.” 

Scoffing, Mingyu presses you tighter against the wall, his smirk lifting at his lips once again when you gasp. You were soft and wet against him. It was more than what was left over from the rain and the water from the shower—this was you leaking between your legs as you teased him. “You’re so full of shit, baby.” 

You start to give some witty comeback about how at least you are full of something since it’s not him when Mingyu renders you speechless. The pressure of his cock bullying its way into your tight pussy causes a breath to get stuck in your throat that you only let go of when his hips are flush with yours. The first deep thrust has you seeing stars. You had been full of Mingyu before, but this felt different. He was determined and you could do nothing but cling to him and moan as your walls tightened around him even further, begging him for more. 

“Fuck, baby. You feel like heaven.” Mingyu was whining into every single groan as he fucked you slowly but deeply against the shower wall. He could feel every time your pussy clenched around him. He could tell you were close by how your smooth walls were holding him like your life depended on keeping him close. “God, I—I love you, Y/N. I know it ain’t fair to say it right now, but dammit, baby, it’s true.” 

Closing your eyes so tight that you force the tears from them, you hold back your sob as Mingyu buries his face against your neck. You know what you want to say in return—you love him too, but the words don’t leave your mouth. You instead find your escape when Mingyu quietly begs you to cum for him, telling you that he can’t wait—that he needs you to let go for him. Unable to hold yourself back anymore, you gasp for a deep breath, unable to take it when your orgasm rips through you like a tidal wave with one of Mingyu’s hard thrusts. 

“Oh, fuck…” The word is drawn out. Mingyu’s vision goes white as he bites at his lips, trying to stop himself from following you immediately, knowing he needs to restrain himself. It’s when he tries to separate himself from you, his climax so close that he can taste it, that you sob his name and tell him to stay. Meeting your eyes, Mingyu thinks he could pass out or die right then and there. It isn’t the smartest or safest thing in the world to do, but he nods, his hand sliding along yours to pin your wrist to the wall as he buries himself inside of you as deeply as possible, spilling his cum into you with a loud, drawn-out groan. 

The water from the shower had started to go cold. If this had been your apartment, you would find that annoying, but in Mingyu’s arms as he held you back against his chest, working soap over your body, you didn’t care. There was a lot left unsaid, especially by you, but the brush of Mingyu’s lips over your ear and your fingers walking along his forearm said plenty—just not enough. 

“I love you, baby.” Closing your eyes again, you turn your head away from Mingyu’s lips, hearing him sigh against your head. “It’s alright. You ain’t gotta say it back right now… But I sure as hell ain’t gonna stop tellin’ you.” 

“I know, Gyu…” Your voice is quiet even as the water is cut off and Mingyu helps you out of the shower wrapping a towel around you. “I—I’m selfish. I don’t want you to stop telling me.” 

Shaking his head, Mingyu smiles softly, his head tilted as he uses the towel to wipe some water from your cheek before rubbing his hands along your arms over the towel. “That ain’t selfish.” Taking a deep breath, he wraps a towel around his waist before returning his attention to you and helping you dry off slowly. “Just means you’ll tell me when you’re ready. I’m patient.”

Furrowing his brows at the light making its way through his blinds, Mingyu sighs, sliding his hand along the bed to reach out for you. It had been a dream come true to sleep with you in his arms, and it seemed like that dream was over. The other side of his bed was cold now. Forcing his eyes open, Mingyu frowns, seeing the reality of what he knew—you weren’t there. In the place where you had slept, there was just a daisy lying on your pillow. 

You hadn’t given him a real answer last night and now, as Mingyu looked at the flower between his fingers, he still didn’t know what you wanted. You had taken the time to wander around the house and out of it to pick a flower next to the porch before bringing it back upstairs to him and yet you hadn’t said goodbye. It felt final and made Mingyu’s stomach feel like it was full of stones. 

It had been a couple of hours since you had gotten back to the house. You had managed to get there before Seungcheol had thankfully even considered waking up and now you were pushing around breakfast on a plate. The smell of the food alone was enough to turn your stomach as you listened to the sound of footsteps shuffling into the room and Seungcheol’s rough greeting as he slumped down into a chair. 

You looked like you hadn’t slept at all. There was a sad look on your face and you barely whispered a good morning to him as your brother studied you. There was something wrong. You would barely look up from the papers in front of you. “Uh—is uh, the inventory shit done? You alright?” Sliding a mug closer to him, Seungcheol starts to pour himself a cup of coffee when you nod and sigh out of your nose, finally meeting his eyes. You have been crying. Seungcheol can see the makeup under your eyes, but no matter how much you try to hide it, he knows what it looks like when you cry. 

“Yep. All good. It’s done and just needs you to sign a couple of things.” Blinking a few times feeling Seungcheol’s heavy gaze, you look back down at the paperwork, putting a pen on top of a stack of papers and sliding them towards him. “Those are for the bank. Basically just what was in the will and estate.” 

Nodding along with your words, Seungcheol picks up the pen, glancing over the papers before signing his name below yours on each sheet of paper. It’s only when he reaches the last one, where his name is above yours, that he stops, his brows furrowing. “What the fuck is this one? I haven’t seen—” Muttering under his breath, he reads aloud a few words loud enough for you to hear as you shift uncomfortably, waiting for him to just get it over with. “Liquidation of Miss Choi’s half of assets and property… No. No, Y/N. I won’t sign this shit.” 

You have to force yourself to meet Seungcheol’s eyes as he shakes his head, pushing the papers back towards you so hard that most of them scatter. “Cheol! Please listen to me. I’m doing this beca—” 

“Fuck you! You don’t get to do this again!” With tears on the rims of his eyes, Seungcheol pushes back on his chair hard, causing it to fall back on the floor as he comes to a stand. “Do you hate me that fuckin’ much?” Instead of getting an answer from you, Seungcheol is met with silence and tears on your cheeks. “Wow, Y/N…” 

The silence is deafening as Seungcheol walks out of the room. The only sound you hear is the slam of the door as he goes outside, leaving you alone in the house with your thoughts that make you feel like you are drowning. 

Mingyu isn’t sure what he expected to find when he reached the main house. He had hoped that maybe you would be waiting for him or that maybe you’d come running out to meet him and jump into his arms. None of that happened; he instead finds Seungcheol sitting on the porch with a cigarette between his lips and tears on his cheeks. “What—” Looking between him and the house, Mingyu swallows hard as his brows furrow at the sight of his best friend so broken in front of him. “What happened?” 

There wasn’t anything to say and there was no way that Seungcheol was going to explain all of this to Mingyu right now. The anger was still too fresh. Barely meeting Mingyu’s eyes, Seungcheol simply gestures back towards the house where you are without saying a word. 

The sound of footsteps once again has your stomach in knots. You try to pull yourself together, wiping the tears from your cheeks, readying to defend yourself to Seungcheol once again when you look up to see Mingyu instead. Of course it would be worse. You find yourself playing the morning back, laying next to him as the sun started to rise and running your fingertip over the bridge of his nose before fear ripped through you so you ran away. Now he stood in front of you looking at the papers spread out on the table. “Mingyu…” 

“I was—well, I was coming to see why you left, but Cheol—” Shaking his head, unable to finish what he is saying as his brows furrow at the paperwork in front of him, Mingyu picks up one of the papers before sighing your name. “You really wanna leave?” 

Sighing, fresh tears falling onto your cheeks, you gesture around you as a scoff slips from your lips as if it should be obvious. “I fuck everything up, Mingyu. No one needs me here!” Pushing back from the table like Seungcheol had before, you start to walk away when a hand on yours stops you. 

“Who says? Who gets to decide that, baby?” Shaking his head, Mingyu takes a step towards you, dropping the paper back onto the table as you whine his name and try to pull your hand from his. “You are always runnin’ away. I ain’t like the rest that just let you, dammit!” 

Mingyu’s words cut at you deep. It was obvious that you were always running away and he was calling you out on it. Shaking your head to disagree with logic, you tug at his hand only to be pulled towards him, feeling his other hand gently wipe at your tears. 

“Now, I love you, and I want you to stay with me.” Even as you close your eyes, Mingyu just sighs and continues, knowing you can still hear him, the tears rolling down your cheeks for him to wipe away. “Baby, I know that Cheol wants you to stay.” 

No matter how tightly you close your eyes and try to run away, to will this all away where you can’t hurt Mingyu or Seungcheol, when you open your eyes Mingyu is still standing in front of you. He’s still there holding you and begging you to admit that you love him. Leaning your head forward, you rest it against Mingyu’s chest, his fingers running over the back of your head soothingly as you mutter softly. “What if I fuck this up?” 

Shrugging, Mingyu smiles against your head before kissing the same place gently. “Then I’ll fix it. I’ll fix you.” 

The words and the idea of them make you laugh, but you know he isn’t lying. Pouting, you finally look up at Mingyu so he can cup your cheek and brush his lips against yours. Finally, after fighting it for days, the words make it past your lips and to his ears. “I love you, Mingyu.” 

You feel his lips pull up against yours, his smile infectious, causing you to smile in return before his arms hold you to him for a few more moments. 

“Say it again.” 

Sighing softly, you nod. “I love you.” 

The words are like music to Mingyu’s ears and more than that, they feel like a promise he’s been dying to hear. Taking a step back, he brushed his thumb against your bottom lip before looking back to the table, picking up the piece of paper that had caused so much hurt today. You watch as he furrows his brows, his eyes quickly looking over the words before he hands it to you, letting you decide what you are going to do. 

It feels like minutes, maybe hours, as you hold the paper in your hands before you finally do what you should have done from the beginning—you rip it in half. With the two halves of the paper falling to the ground, you feel the anxiety in your chest lift as Mingyu pulls you back against him, and he welcomes you home. 

READ THE BONUS NOW

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[urmum-lovesme]

Bunny (P12)

Rafe Cameron x Maybank!Reader

summary: Struggling to keep her and JJ’s home afloat, Y/N turns to the only option that guarantees fast cash- stripping at a club on the Cut. But when Rafe Cameron catches her in the act, he sees the perfect opportunity to tighten his grip around her life.

a/n: well bazinga. here we are- I'm loving you guys all fangirling over rafe and bunny cause they're such cutie patooties. But happiness is not for free, so I'm really really sorry about this one- I hope ya'll can forgive me. (and rafe) (idk if I can)

warnings: angst :(, alcohol, smoking, weed, violence, fights, drunkenness, rafe being a little bitch

(P1) (P2) (P3) (P4) (P5) (P6) (P7) (P8) (P9) (P10) (P11) (P12)

The air is heavy with the lingering warmth of the day, the sky streaked with dying gold and violet as Y/N steps out the back exit of the country club. The low hum of insects fills the silence, broken only by the soft scrape of her boots against the pavement. Her shoulders are tired, the strap of her bag crumpled in one hand, and she taps her phone screen with the other, the glow casting light across her features, a new message flashing on the screen.

JJ : Lost my charger again

JJ. : Its okay tho cuz I took yours

JJ : I'll give it back

JJ : (I won't)

A laugh spills quietly from her lips, soft and genuine. That familiar feeling of warmth spreads through her chest at his messages. It'd been a few weeks since she'd come back from Charleston- since JJ had finally got a job. And she had to admit he was trying, really trying, so now their long awkward conversation which ended with deafening silence had eased in to sweet and stupid messages and playful banter which filled the walls of their bedrooms once more. Her fingers typed out a reply—

Y/N : u better u loser

She places the phone into her pocket and glances up- and then stops dead in her tracks. Her car’s parked at the far end of the staff lot, right where she left it but what she didn’t leave, was the sleek black Range Rover sitting beside it, the glossy paint catching the orange hues of the setting sun. She stiffens immediately, scanning the lot, no one around and her steps towards her car quicken. The driver’s side door opens, and Rafe steps out, tall and unbothered, his hands in the pockets of his dark jacket, and there’s that stupid smirk playing on his lips. Her heart jumps straight into her throat. “Rafe—” she hisses under her breath, marching toward him with panic in her eyes.

“What the hell are you doing here?!”

He lifts a shoulder in a casual shrug, voice low and smooth, “What? I can’t come see you?”

“Not in the staff parking lot,” she snaps in a hushed whisper, “Do you want someone to see you? What if someone from inside walks out—”

“Relax”

He says gently, stepping forward and before she can argue more, his hands are at her hips, warm and familiar, tugging her closer until her body is brushing against his in the narrow space between the cars. The proximity knocks the air from her lungs. Her hands instinctively rest against his chest, palms flat over the material of his t-shirt where she can feel his heartbeat, steady and calm beneath her fingers.

Hers? Not so much.

“There’s no one around...”

He murmurs, head tilted down as he looks at her, his voice softer now, velvety and coaxing and her breath catches. She should push him away. She should tell him this is reckless, stupid, dangerous. But his scent- musky and alluring- clouds her thoughts. And his touch, just the lightest press of fingertips against the small of her back— is so familiar now, so comforting in its own twisted way. And she hates that it’s comforting. Her fingers twitch against his chest. She finally manages a whisper her words stubborn,

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know,” he says, and there’s the smallest hint of a smile in his voice as he leans in just a fraction closer, breath ghosting against her temple.

“But I wanted to be.”

She rolls her eyes with a long, exaggerated sigh, but her lips betray her- tugging upward at the corners, betraying the way he’s already wormed his way into her mood.

“We’re gonna get caught”

She mutters under her breath, glancing toward the dark stretch of the staff lot like someone might materialise from the shadows. The words barely leave her lips, soft and hurried, like they know better than to draw attention. Rafe just smirks, tilting his head down slightly, his chin angling toward her as he closes the few inches left between them.

“Not if you kiss me quick”

He says, voice low and roughened with amusement. Her eyes squint in a playful glare, head pulling back a fraction.

“You’re so annoying.”

But her body leans in all the same.

Her fingers find the soft t-shirt, curling into the fabric without even thinking. She rises onto the balls of her feet, just barely, and presses a kiss to his lips. It’s quick and light—barely a brush. Just a flicker of warmth, like a secret passed between two people in the dark. As she pulls away, his face follows hers- like his lips are trying to chase the kiss she’s already taken back. He doesn’t even think about it, just dips forward slightly, a greedy edge in his movement. She breathes out a small laugh, pushing against his chest with a single finger. “Nope,” she says, her smile widening.

“I'm hungry.”

"Yeah well so am I"

He lets his hands slip from her hips with a groan that’s more for show than anything, head rolling back as he leans against the hood of his car. She just shrugs, the inuendo lost on her ears as she adjusts the bag on her shoulder.

“You’re such a tease Bunny”

He drawls and she snorts, already turning on her heel to head toward the trunk of her car.

“I don’t know what you mean Cameron.”

Her fingers make quick work of the car key, popping the trunk. She grabs the rolled-up apron resting on top her bag and tosses it in alongside her worn-out tote bag, the whole thing collapsing into a pile on top of an old hoodie and a dented water bottle. The sound of the trunk slamming shut echoes across the empty lot. Spinning back around to face him, she crosses her arms and leans her weight into one hip, chin tilted up with that same little smile that drives him crazy.

“You really wanna get caught by one of your little Kook friends out here with me?” she teases, cocking a brow. “Have to explain why you’ve been slumming it with a Pogue?”

His smirk twitches- just a smidge. For the briefest moment, his expression shifts and something softer creeps into it. Something a little more sincere. His gaze lingers on her face longer than it should and then flickers back down to her lips before returning back up again.

“Wouldn’t care if they did”

He says simply, a quiet shrug rolling off his shoulders as if he means it, as if it's the simplest answer in the world. It catches her off guard- freezes her for a beat. Her mouth opens, then closes again but she recovers quick, brushing it off with a scoff and a roll of her eyes.

“You’re so full of shit.”

But even as the words leave her lips, there’s a faint flicker of something else behind her voice- something almost moved. Something she doesn’t want to name because it’s been a few weeks since that night.

A few weeks since she tilted her milkshake to her lips and he wiped the sweet drip from her skin with his thumb like it meant nothing. Since he kissed her like he’d been holding back for months and she melted into it like her body had been waiting on that exact moment to exhale. And since then? It’s been a series of late-night meet ups that feel like a secret thread connecting them. Not the kind that spun in lies—but the kind too delicate to speak aloud. The kind you carry with careful hands and quiet hearts in fear of it snapping. Every night, after her shift ends and the world turns quiet, she finds him waiting. Always parked in the back corner of some parking lot—headlights off, music low and she slips into the passenger seat without a word, throws her bag in the back, kicks off her shoes, and leans over to kiss him like she’s been holding her breath all day.

The kisses are slow at first. Always. A shared pause. But then they tip into something deeper, heavier—like they’re trying to memorise each other without crossing any lines they haven’t drawn out loud- but it never goes further than that. His hands stay respectful, if not reverent- one cupping her jaw, the other braced on the back of her seat or tangled gently on her waist, on her hip, in her hair. Her fingers clutch the hem of his shirt like a tether, holding on but not pulling him in any closer than he already is.

There’s a quiet fire, always simmering, but neither of them dare feed it too much. Neither of them dare ask what they are. It’s easier this way. Safer. They stay pressed into the quiet hum of those car rides, the warmth of shared fries, the heat of stolen kisses in the dark, and the steady, unspoken beat of something they’ve both grown addicted to but don’t yet understand.

Rafe leaned against the top of her car, forearms braced over the roof like he had all the time in the world. The late golden hour sun dipped low, casting long shadows over the near-empty staff lot behind the country club. His eyes squinted slightly from the light, jaw sharp as ever, that casual grin tugging at the corner of his mouth “What’s your hurry today, huh?” he drawled lazily, peering down at her with a teasing glint.

“You extra hungry or what?”

Y/N huffed, already halfway into the driver’s seat of her little beat-up car, one leg in, one out, “No asshole- I just don’t want anyone to spot us, okay?”

Rafe chuckled under his breath, the sound low and unbothered. He shrugged one shoulder and pushed off the car just enough to stretch lazily.

“It’s not a big deal.”

She snapped her head up to look at him, her tone sharper now, “Yeah, actually Rafe—it is a big deal. Because if JJ finds out—”

“I know”

He cut in, dragging a hand over his jaw, irritation flashing in his eyes. “If JJ finds out, he’ll be mad. Whatever. I get it, okay? No need to tell me again.”

The words hung between them for a second, heavier than either wanted them to be. The silence wasn’t angry- but it was tense. The same argument they hadn’t quite had, bubbling beneath their stolen moments. He stood there now by her open car door, his figure blocking some of the sunlight, casting a soft shadow over her where she sat inside the car. From where she was, her eye level landed right at his belt. Her gaze softened a bit, guilt tugging at her gut. Then her hand came up, absent-minded and almost sheepish, her fingers catching on the loop of his jeans. She played with it lightly, tugging once. A peace offering. His eyes flicked down to her hand, then to her face, jaw still tight. She asked quietly, tilting her head up at him with a playful sort of pout, brows lifted just a touch.

“You mad..?”

“No,” he replied, voice low. “Why would I be mad?”

She shrugged, still toying with the denim loop, “I dunno. I thought—” she cut herself off, shaking her head a little, “Doesn’t matter.”

Rafe didn’t press. He let it hang, then gave a soft hum, looking around the lot- empty still, save for their two cars and the rustle of wind through the nearby trees. “So,” he drawled, rocking back slightly on his heels.

“We going to get something to eat or what?”

Y/N brightened a little, grateful for the pivot. “I’m feelingggg…” she stretched the word dramatically, “Chinese?”

He smiled at that slightly, nodding, “Chinese sounds good.”

“Cool,” she said, pulling her legs fully into the car now, “I’ll meet you there then?”

He gave a small nod, “Yeah… yeah.”

But she could tell- by the way he paused before turning away, by the way his fingers twitched at his side- that he was still holding onto a bit of a grudge. He hadn’t gotten his kiss, not a real one. And that wounded pride was showing, even if he tried to hide it behind his nonchalant façade. She rolled her eyes with a soft exhale- who would have thought Rafe Cameron was so needy?

Reaching up, she curled her fingers into the front of his T-shirt, tugging him gently back down toward her, guiding him until he bent slightly, face now level with hers. His breath hitched, eyelashes fluttering as he leaned into her touch. She kissed him then- firm, but warm. Just enough to melt that sulking tension in his brow. His lips moved against hers with a soft hum, his hand bracing on the edge of her door as he leaned in a fraction more, savouring it. When she pulled back, his eyes were still half-lidded, lips parted like he wanted to chase her mouth again.

“You done now, you baby?”

She murmured with a crooked smile, eyes teasing but fond. Rafe’s smirk returned, slow and smug. “Yeah,” he murmured, straightening up,

“I’m done now.”

And with that, he backed away from the car, hands in his jacket pockets like he hadn’t just been melting under her touch. She watched him retreat toward his car, her heart doing that dumb little flutter it always did lately, it lingered in her chest. Just as his door swung open, he looked back over his shoulder, eyebrows raised.

“Don’t forget the egg rolls.”

She rolled her eyes and started her car.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The quiet hum of the radio filled the space between them, the soft crackle of music soothing after a long day. They sat there in the dim light of the car, the smell of Chinese food mingling with the fresh evening air that drafted in through the slightly cracked window. Y/N leaned back against the seat, her legs tucked up beneath her as she dug into her takeout container. Rafe sat beside her, elbow propped up on the door, his free hand reaching for his food, the sound of plastic utensils scraping against the containers faint in the otherwise still air. Rafe asked, his voice low as he finally broke the silence, his eyes flicking over to her as he stuffed a piece of chicken in his mouth.

“How was work?”

“It was… okay”

Y/N muttered, chewing before she continued, eyes shifting away from him for a moment, “Had this asshole customer... one of your friends actually.”

“One of my friends? Who?”

Rafe’s brow furrowed, his gaze narrowing slightly in curiosity as he put his food down. Y/N rolled her eyes as she leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest, her expression calm despite the frustration in her voice.

“That guy Brett? The one you hang out with sometimes. Total jerk.”

“Why, what did he do?”

Her expression tightened as she recounted the experience, “he kept clicking his fingers in my face like I was some kind of dog, and whenever I went over to his table, he called me ‘waitress’ like I’m not even good to have a name? God he was so patronising.”

“He really did that?”

He asked, disbelief creeping into his tone, jaw clenched. Y/N tilted her head toward him, not missing the change in his expression. 

“Yeah, why? You don’t believe me?”

“No” He muttered, his voice hardening a little as he picked up his food again, his hand gripping the chopsticks tighter than necessary.

“I believe you.”

He took a bite, chewing slowly as he fought the frustration that was rising inside him. A small silence settled between them, the only sound the soft clinking of their chopsticks against the takeout containers. Rafe didn’t like that she had to deal with people like that, didn’t like it one bit.

“What’re you doing tomorrow?”

He asked, his voice casual, but something unreadable flickered in his eyes. Y/N turned her head slowly toward him, her expression soft but guarded as she mumbled,

“Working.”

Rafe blinked raising an eyebrow, “It’s Saturday…?”

“Yeah, and?” She shrugged, taking another bite of her food, her voice low and almost dismissive. “I’m broke, Rafe. I’m always working.”

His eyes darkened again as he placed his food down with a soft clink, his fingers tapping against the lid of the container. He wasn’t about to let this go- he hated it, and they both knew it. He took a sip of his drink, the cold liquid hitting his throat like a jolt, but it did nothing to cool the fire that was building in him. He put the cup back in the cup holder with a sigh, his voice quieter but still firm.

“I don’t see why you can’t just take a break. You don’t always have to work.”

“We’re not having this conversation again Rafe.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered over to him, her face hardening slightly as she gave him a pointed look. He frowned, the words heavy in the air.

“Look, I get that maybe you think it’s embarrassing to accept my—”

“If you keep talking about this,” she interrupted, her tone sharper now, “I’m getting out of your car.”

His eyes narrowed as he looked at her, taking in the shift in her expression- the quiet defensiveness there, the exhaustion she was trying to hide. He didn’t want to push her too hard, but he couldn’t stop himself from trying. He paused, the weight of her words sinking in, then gave a short, almost defeated nod, like he was choosing to back off of the subject for now. Y/N didn’t say anything in response, her eyes softening as she turned back to her food, the brief tension hanging in the air like smoke. She had already given him her answer. She had already drawn the line before, and Rafe knew he’d have to respect it—for now. The silence that settled between them wasn’t heavy but it wasn’t uncomfortable either. Just... quiet. Their takeout containers were nearly empty now, the scent of soy and spice lingering faintly in the car, blending with the low hum of music still playing in the background. Y/N had reclined her seat a bit, one leg tucked up under the other, the other stretched out, socked foot resting against the dashboard. Her shoes sat forgotten on the floor, and a soft breeze drifted in through the cracked window, brushing gently against her skin.

Rafe glanced over at her, his arm draped over the back of her seat, thumb idly brushing the seam of the leather. She looked content, even if a little tired- hair slightly messy from the day, lashes casting soft shadows across her cheekbones as she stared out at nothing in particular. He liked seeing her like this, unfiltered.

“There’s a party tomorrow night”

He said suddenly, voice quiet but breaking the lull between them. He reached forward, placing his empty cup in the holder before leaning back again, tapping a slow rhythm on his thigh. She turned her head lazily, brows knitting together slightly.

“A party?”

He nodded, “One of the beach houses on Figure Eight. Bunch of people’ll be there.” He paused, then looked over at her, expression unreadable.

“You should come.”

“Me?”

Her head lifted a little more now, blinking at him like she wasn’t sure she’d heard that right. “Yeah.” He gave a slow shrug, feigning casual, but his eyes were locked on hers, watching closely.

“I’m gonna be there...”

“Since when do you want me showing up to a Kook party?”

Y/N sat up slightly in her seat, feet slipping from the dashboard and landing softly on the floor. He smirked lightly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Since now.”

There was a beat of silence, then another. Her gaze searched his face, trying to find the catch—but there wasn’t one. Just Rafe, looking at her like he didn’t care if the whole island had something to say about her. She asked, voice lower now, almost testing him.

“You serious?”

“Yeah- I am.”

He leaned a little closer, one arm still draped along the back of her seat. Y/N pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, watching him, chewing over the offer in her mind. The idea of being in that world with no responsibilities- even just for a night- felt risky. Foreign. But something in the way he was looking at her made it hard to say no.

“I don't know Rafe... I’d stick out like a sore thumb besides people will talk-”

"-people always talk”

He shot back cutting her off slightly, amused as she frowned slightly, arms crossing tighter as she shook her head a little.

“This is different. You know it is.”

Rafe tilted his head thinking deeply, but didn’t press her just yet, “Your friend’s gonna be there,” he said instead, voice smooth as ever.

“My—what? Who?”

“Sofia, right?”

He squinted slightly and Y/N straightened a little, her mouth dropping open at the mention of the girls name.

“Sofia’s going?”

“Yeah.” He was smirking now. “That guy she’s been seeing? The new Kook on the island? He’s the one throwing it.”

“She hasn’t told me that,” Y/N muttered, staring at him.

“Well.” He turned more toward her, resting his elbow against the console and tapping the edge of her thigh with his fingers playfully.

“Looks like you’re not the only one with a dirty little secret.”

She let out a shocked laugh, eyes widening at the words passing his lips before narrowing her gaze at him as she shoved his shoulder back, playful but not gentle,

“You’re such a dick, Cameron.”

He only grinned, letting her shove him- indulging in the feeling of her touch even if momentary. Y/N gave a little scoff and turned away, but her smile lingered. A beat of silence passed over them before she spoke out, “Fine,” she said, like it pained her to admit it.

“I guess I can… think about it.”

“Think about it?” Rafe echoed with mock offense, sitting up straighter, “Seriously?”

“Mhm.”

She didn’t look at him this time, just smirked and reached down to close her container, the sound of clicking plastic filling the car. She then bent over placing it down on the floor, and as she sat back up Rafe leaned in closer again, slower this time, the tip of his nose brushing her jaw before his lips followed. He kissed the curve beneath her ear, then slowly worked his lips down the side of her neck.

"Maybe I can persuade you to come hmm...?"

“You’re such a perv”

She mumbled through a grin, her hand finding his chest and giving him a half-hearted push. He pulled back slightly, lips acting from her skin as he muttered,

“So… still a no?”

“Fine... I’ll come.”

She rolled her eyes, biting back a smile that betrayed her. Rafe sat back accomplished as he spoke out, “Knew you'd give in.”

“But,” she added, wagging a finger at him. “You’re not glued to me all night, okay? Or people will notice.”

“Relax. We’ll keep it lowkey.”

He gave her that cocky, lopsided grin again and before she could snark back another smart-assed comment, he hit the button on the side of his seat. With a low mechanical whir, his chair reclined all the way back, and he stretched out like a king- arms behind his head, t-shirt rising just enough to show a sliver of his toned stomach. Then he patted his thigh, smirking.

“So… where were we?”

Y/N shook her head, heat prickling her cheeks as she shifted toward him again, “You’re ridiculous,” she muttered, but her knees were already crawling across the seat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun had long dipped below the tree line now, and the soft golden wash of string lights gave the Chateau its usual hazy, warm glow. A lazy summer night settled in with the gentle hum of cicadas in the distance and the low bass of music crackling from the old speaker propped up on a makeshift crate. Everyone was sprawled out in their usual places- Cleo had her legs kicked up on the railing, passing a blunt between her fingers, while Pope leaned back in one of the rickety lawn chairs, letting the smoke curl from his mouth toward the night sky. JJ was stretched across the hammock, shirtless of course, balancing a beer on his chest while making some offhand joke that had Kiara snorting into her drink. John B sat on the edge of the porch, Sarah curled comfortably in his lap, her fingers absentmindedly threading through his messy hair as she hummed along to the music. Then, like she suddenly remembered something juicy, Sarah’s voice piped up.

“Oh! I almost forgot to tell you guys.”

Everyone’s eyes flicked toward her lazily, half-baked or halfway drunk. JJ raised an eyebrow, already skeptical. “There’s this party tomorrow night. One of the beach houses on Figure Eight — some rich kid’s throwing it. But I got the invite,” she emphasized with a little smirk, twirling a lock of her blonde hair,

“which means you guys can come too!”

There was a collective beat of silence, then came the chaos.

“A kook party?” Pope made a face. “Nah, I’m good.”

“Hard pass”

Kiara chimed in, swirling what was left in her cup. JJ sat up a bit in the hammock, giving Sarah a look of exaggerated offence, “Sarah — my best friend’s dearest girlfriend — why the hell would I willingly put myself in a room full of kooks with their Vineyard Vines shirts and trust funds?”

“Kook fest? I don't think so- rude boy's got a point."

Cleo added, completely unfazed. Sarah groaned dramatically, tossing her head back against John B’s shoulder, “Guys, everyone on the island’s been invited. Literally everyone. You want to miss the one time we can sneak in and drink their expensive-ass booze and pretend to be civilised?”

John B scratched the back of his neck, “I mean… Sare, are you sure this is a good idea? These things usually end in someone getting arrested or beat up.”

“That’s what makes it fun,” she shot back smiling up at him, “Come on, baby...”

JJ shook his head with a mock sigh, “I do love chaos, but I also love not getting decked by some pastel-wearing rich boy with a superiority complex.”

“C’monnn,” Sarah pleaded, eyes bouncing between them all. “Free booze. Loud music. Rich kids being embarrassing. You telling me you wanna miss that?” JJ glanced around, took a swig of his beer, then shrugged like he was warming up to the idea.

“Free booze, huh?”

“Like actually free”

Sarah said, perking up as she nodded her head. Kiara sighed before adding to the ongoing debate. “Okay I guess if we go in a group, it’s not like they can kick us all out.”

Pope laughed, “That’s comforting.”

“So it’s decided then?”

Sarah asked, clapping her hands and JJ leaned back with a smirk.

“Eh why the hell not. 

The chatter faded back into that familiar haze- the music a little louder now, the clinking of glass bottles, occasional bursts of laughter echoing under the soft glow of the porch lights. JJ had flopped dramatically back into the hammock, tossing a peanut at Pope, who swatted it away with a sharp “cut that out”, but he was grinning as he said it. Kiara and Cleo were side by side, passing the blunt like it was a baton in the slowest relay race known to man, and Sarah was still curled into John B, nose buried in his neck as she murmured something that made him laugh under his breath. Then the crunch of gravel under tires caught their ears- a car rolling up toward the end of the drive, headlights slicing through the trees. Everyone instinctively turned to look, and when the engine cut and the door swung open, a familiar silhouette stepped out.

“Y/N!”

Sarah called out instantly, lifting her hand in a wave. JJ was already in motion. He practically leapt out of the hammock with a lopsided grin on his face, his movements loose and full of that buzzed joy that lived in him when he was around his people. He jogged toward her, arms wide like he was about to tackle her. Y/N had barely rounded her door when JJ crashed into her, arms circling tight around her waist and lifting her a few inches off the ground in a twirling hug. She let out a breathless laugh, one arm instinctively hooking around his shoulder.

“Jay, are you drunk?”

“Yes ma’am”

He said proudly, nuzzling his nose against her cheek like a sleepy golden retriever. John B called out from the porch, raising his beer in salute.

“And high!”

“Wow what a responsible crowd I’ve joined.”

She looked past JJ and shook her head smiling, JJ grinned and still half-latched to her side laced his fingers between hers and started tugging her toward the group.

“Welcome, my dear sister, to the finest motive on the island.”

“Yeah, it looks so lit”

Y/N snorted as she said dryly, eyeing the half-deflated pool float on the lawn and Kiara using a stick to fish a beer bottle cap out of the fire pit. Pope looked up and offered her a beer, cracking open another one.

“You want?”

“Nah, I’m driving.”

She shook her head, raising a hand politely. JJ was still practically glued to her back, and now his chin came to rest on her shoulder, his head leaning sleepily against hers like gravity had chosen her specifically. She glanced sideways, her voice softening.

“You okay, mister?”

“Right as rain”

He murmured, words muffled against the collar of her white work polo. Y/N smiled to herself and brought one hand up to gently pat his cheek, a small fondness in her eyes. She dropped down onto the worn-out quilt Pope had stretched across the grass, tucking her legs beneath her and setting her keys in a little pile beside the cooler. The smell of bonfire smoke and salty air clung to everything, and the mellow strum of a guitar looped in the background from someone’s Bluetooth speaker. The Chateau felt hazy with summer warmth and low buzzed laughter, like time didn’t really exist here.

“Y'missed blondie trying to backflip off the porch railing”

Cleo said, raising her eyebrows at the girl, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth as she handed her a cold bottle of water. Pope snorted from where he sat beside her,

“More like he tripped, flailed, and then landed face-first into the lawn chair. Truly a work of art.”

“Sounds about right.”

Y/N laughed, tilting her head back slightly as she wiped sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. “Y/N!” Sarah suddenly perked up from where she was comfortably curled up on John B’s lap, her legs stretched out across the blanket and her fingers idly threading through his curls.

“I almost forgot to tell you- we’re all going to a party tomorrow night. You have to come”

“Oh—uh…”

Y/N hesitated for a split second. Shit. Rafe had already invited her out tomorrow- there was no way she could show up two places at the same time. She furrowed her brows thinking of a quick excuse, “I don’t think I can,” she said slowly.

“Sofia asked me to cover her shift tomorrow night. Late shift.”

The groans came instantly.

“Noooo” Kiara moaned out in disappointment. “Again?” Cleo frowned as she spoke, “Girl, you’re always working.” JJ leaned up, pulling a dramatic face as he sat up behind her, one hand propped on the ground and the other pointing accusingly.

“Y/N- my sweet, overachieving sister. You never go out.”

“I do go out!”

“When?!” JJ countered, hand waving wildly, “Name one time that we went out that didn’t involve grocery shopping or pretending not to cry while pumping gas for my bike cause you can't afford it.”

“JJ, please,” she groaned, rubbing at her forehead the others watching the small sibling quarrel, “Sofia never gets nights off. I have to fill in for her.”

But even as she said it, her mind was moving. What if I go to Rafe’s first? Just for a bit. Then come late, no one would know, they're on different sides of the island. She knew it was risky but- it was worth the risk if it meant getting her brother off her back. She sighed, trying to keep it casual.

“Where is it anyway... maybe I can stop by before it ends.”

Sarah perked up instantly at the question, “New guy just moved into this insane house on Figure 8- I’m technically on the guest list, so by extension, that means all of you get to come.”

Y/N froze.

Her stomach sank, it’s the same party. Her chest tightened like a fist was forming right behind her ribs. The same one Rafe is going to and now… JJ would be there. All of them would be there. She forced a tight smile, heart beating a little faster and her throat closed up slightly. She can’t go. She can’t risk it—JJ seeing her with Rafe? No. Absolutely not. That would ruin everything. He’d lose it. He’d probably have a fit and if he didn’t, the look in his eyes would be worse. She felt herself retreat inward for a split second- like her body was still sitting there on the blanket, but her mind was miles away, spiralling in panic. Then- she forced it back. Forced her lips into a smile, stretched just wide enough to pass as real. She said, voice smooth,

“I’ll see if I can make it”

“Yeah?”

JJ looked over at her, suspiciously squinting, she nodded without hesitation.

“Maybe just for a bit.”

Even as the lie came out of her mouth, her brain was already racing. Y/N cleared her throat softly, still gripping the now half-empty water bottle in her hand. Her eyes swept across the group lounging lazily on the worn blankets and cushions sprawled out on the overgrown lawn.

“I actually think I’m gonna head back now”

She said, standing up slowly and brushing the bits of grass and twigs from her shorts, “Just came to check up on you guys.”

JJ looked up from where he was sitting cross-legged now on a faded beach towel, lips wrapped around the neck of his beer bottle, and gave her a lazy, crooked smile. He winked, blonde hair a windswept mess.

“Mission accomplished sis.”

She rolled her eyes at him, amusement flickering behind her lashes, and bent to grab her keys from the little crate they’d been using as a table.

“You coming back or staying the night?”

She asked, giving him a look as she nodded toward the house, her tone light but a little pointed the role of big sister coming naturally. Before JJ could even open his mouth to respond, John B was already groaning dramatically from the other side of the blanket. “Take him,” he said, flopping his head back against the tree behind him.

“Please. I don’t want him here. He eats everything and he talks in his sleep.”

Sarah burst into laughter in his lap, her whole body shaking with it as she nearly spilled the beer in her hand. “He really does! The other night he mumbled something about raccoons with spatulas.”

“That was one time!”

JJ threw his hands up like he was being framed for a crime. Y/N just bit back a laugh, fighting back a grin watching the chaos unfold with fondness. JJ tilted his head, smirking toward her. “And just because of that,” he said smug as hell,

“I shall be staying the night here. With Mr. John Booker Routledge.”

A round of exaggerated groans erupted from the rest of the group. Y/N laughed under her breath, her fingers still gripping her keys as she shook her head fondly at them. “Alright, alright,” she said,

“Have fun then... don’t get too smashed.”

“No promises!” Kiara called out with a wide smile, raising her can in salute.

“Speak for yourself,” Pope muttered. “I have dignity unlike some.”

That earned another laugh from the group.

Y/N smiled again, softer this time, eyes briefly flicking back to her brother. He caught her gaze and shot her a lopsided grin, one that still looked more boyish than he probably intended. It made something ache a little in her chest- an affection threaded with worry she’d never admit out loud.

“Night Jay”

She murmured before reaching over to ruffle his hair messily. He smiled her lazily before flopping back onto the blanket like a man who had no thoughts, no responsibilities, and no idea that his sister was walking a tightrope he couldn’t see. Y/N turned, the noise behind her fading into the hum of summer insects and music humming from the portable speaker, and walked back to her car,

The car door creaked softly as Y/N pulled it open, the familiar weight of it grounding her just a little. She slid into the driver’s seat and shut the door behind her with a muted thunk, the quiet inside the car swallowing up the laughter still drifting from the Chateau. The engine wasn’t running yet, and the warm evening air clung to her skin like a second layer. It smelled like sun-warmed leather and pine needles.

For a moment, she just sat there. Her fingers hovered over her bag before she reached in and pulled out her phone, the screen lighting up as soon as her thumb brushed the side. No new messages. Just the same old wallpaper of a blurry sunset and the faint glint of her own reflection staring back. She hesitated and her thumb hovered over the screen for another beat- then tapped into her messages.

Rafe

The name alone made her chest tighten a little. She bit down on her lower lip, chewing at the soft skin absently. Her other hand reached up to pull her hair away from her face, then fell limply against her lap. The inside of the car felt like it was shrinking. “Shit,” she muttered under her breath, a sharp whisper into the quiet. She tapped the messages open. Leaning her head back, she let it fall gently against the headrest, eyes blinking up at the roof of the car as she let out a long, tired sigh. Her fingers rested against the phone in her lap, before tapping her fingers against the screen.

She started typing. Hey, change of plans. I might not— Backspace. No. Too vague so she tried again. Something came up— Backspace. Her heart thudded in her chest, slow and heavy. Then she typed with more finality this time:

Bunny : I'm sorry but I can't do tmr

She stared at it. Read it once. Then twice. Then, with a small exhale that she couldn’t quite tell was relief or regret, she hit send. The text shot off into the thread, disappearing into that blue bubble like a stone dropped into deep water. She locked her phone again, let her head fall back against the seat, eyes fluttering closed. Her lips pressed into a line. Maybe that’s for the best, she told herself. Maybe-

Buzz.

Her eyes snapped open. The screen lit up and she unlocked it quickly, thumb tapping into the thread without thinking.

Rafe : what why not

Short and blunt. Her stomach twisted, that anxious little knot curling a bit tighter as her thumbs moved again.

Bunny : Your sister’s going to be there which means JJ’s gonna be there

She sat there, holding her breath like it’d keep her heart from thudding so hard. The typing bubble appeared instantly, three dots bouncing like they knew what they were about to say was going to matter more than it should.

Rafe : so what?

Of course, she thought bitterly, jaw tightening. But before she could respond, another message popped up. She blinked, stunned by how he could sound so calm about something that made her whole chest tighten.

Rafe : Why is that a problem

Bunny : It’s a problem cause he’ll see us

Her fingers tapped harder this time and her hand trembled slightly as she held the phone. She hated this—how tense it made her. How she had to think of all the possible consequences when Rafe didn’t even seem to care.

Rafe : are you serious

Bunny : Yes I’m serious wtf do u mean???

Her reply came before she could even second-guess herself but then… nothing. No bubble, no typing dots and her eyes flicked to the corner of the screen at the bottom. Read. That was it? He read it and then disappeared. A dry laugh escaped her lips, more disbelieving than amused. She pushed her palm against her forehead, trying to will away the creeping frustration crawling beneath her skin.

Rafe : You’re really gonna let your brother control us

Bunny : He’s not controlling us

Rafe : Well he’s controlling this.

Her teeth sunk into her lip again, harder this time as the message made her fingers still. She stared at the words, something bitter blooming behind her ribs. Then she typed, slowly, like the question had been sitting on her tongue for a while- because it had.

Bunny : What is this

Bunny : What even is 'this' Rafe?

Read

The air in the car felt heavy now. Thick with silence and words that would never be spoken aloud. She watched the screen for a beat. Then two. Then five. The beats turned into a minute but still there was no response from him so her fingers moved again of their own accord.

Bunny : seriously

Bunny : Leaving me on read are you being for real

Bunny : Hello?

Still.

No answer.

Her mouth twisted into a scoff, this one sharper. Less disbelief and more hurt. She leaned her head back against the seat, her knuckles white where she clutched the phone. She could feel it bubbling now- not anger, not really. Just… disappointment. That familiar ache that curled into her chest when something started to crack and she knew she couldn’t fix it. Her lips pressed into a thin line and she typed one last time.

Bunny : Grow up Rafe

Then she dropped the phone into the empty cup holder with a soft clack and her hands came up, pressing into her face, covering her eyes. She let out a breath- long and slow and quiet. She didn’t even know what this was anymore, or what she wanted it to be.

All she knew was that it hurt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bass was thumping hard enough to make the floorboards vibrate. Music roared from massive speakers set up on the back patio of the mansion, spilling into every corner of the sprawling beach house like a pulse. The crowd was thick—Kooks and Pogues alike stood packed shoulder to shoulder, laughing, grinding, shouting over the noise. Red solo cups littered the deck, the grass, the kitchen counters. Half-empty bottles of liquor sat abandoned on tables, the scent of alcohol and sweat clinging to the humid air. Inside, the lighting was low and tinted gold, shadows dancing as bodies moved through the house, more people flooded through the front door- new arrivals, drawn in by the promise of booze and the thrill of recklessness that always hung thick in the air.

Rafe was in the middle of it, standing near the table on the backyard patio where a lineup of liquor bottles had turned into a makeshift bar. His button-down was half undone, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, collar a little askew. He reached for another shot, his fingers curled tight around the glass rim as he knocked it back, throat bobbing as the burn slid down. “Bro,” Kelce said, squinting as he leaned forward, voice slurred with the edge of tipsy concern.

“I never do this but- maybe slow down a little”

“That’s like, your seventh” Topper added from where he was slouched against the couch, a beer dangling between his fingers.

“You good man?”

“I’m fine”

Rafe muttered, his voice low, gruff, and not even remotely convincing. His jaw flexed as he ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his damp forehead. He didn’t look at either of them as he spoke but he wasn’t fine. Not even close. His head was heavy, the alcohol catching up to him in a sluggish crawl through his limbs. He could feel it in his slow, unsteady blink. In the weight of his shoulders, in the way the music felt a little too loud, a little too sharp.

She wasn’t here- Y/N wasn’t here.

And he hated that it mattered. Hated that he kept glancing toward the front door every time someone new walked in- just in case she'd changed her mind. Hated that he could hear her voice in the back of his mind. “I can’t go, your sister’s going to be there” ... “JJ will be there” ... “He’ll see us.” His jaw tightened as he swallowed hard, the burn of the liquor lingering in his chest. She was always so damn concerned about JJ, about keeping him in the dark- about keeping them in the dark.

Like this is all some secret she needs to protect.

Topper was saying something again, laughing about a girl he’d hooked up with last weekend, but Rafe didn’t hear it. He was staring at the countertop, where drops of clear liquor beaded on the marble surface. His hand was still fisted around the empty shot glass. He looked like a storm waiting to happen- cheeks a little flushed, eyes shadowed and distant, lip twitching at the corner in a scowl. But under it all, he was sulking. Quietly. Bitterly. Like a kid who didn’t get what he wanted.

And all he wanted was her.

The rumble of the Twinkie pulling up was swallowed by the thump of music echoing off the walls of the massive house. Lights flashing inside spilled through the tall windows in bursts that lit up the manicured lawn and the stretch of cars already jammed up along the curb. The Pogues piled out- John B leading the charge in his usual messy curls with Sarah right on his heels, her blonde hair catching the light like a halo. JJ slammed the passenger door shut with his hip, shoving his hands into the pockets of his loose cargo shorts, eyes flicking over the crowd on the lawn before following- Pope, Kiara and Cleo weren’t far behind.

The house was huge. Open floor plan, high ceilings, the kind of kitchen you only saw on cooking shows. People were everywhere—on the stairs, pressed against walls, spilling onto balconies. It smelled like weed and citrus vodka, and someone in the hallway was definitely already throwing up. “Damn,” John B muttered as they walked in, eyebrows raised.

“This place is nice.”

“No shit”

Pope said, already eyeing the built-in speakers in the ceiling. Cleo let out a low whistle and made a beeline for the massive kitchen island, where liquor bottles and mixers lined the counters like a buffet. She said with a grin, snatching a bottle of rum and starting to pour,

“The free alcohol is even nicer”

“Now this is why I dragged you guys here..’.”

Sarah laughed, reaching over to help herself to a half-mixed drink and Kiara grabbed a couple of plastic cups, handing them around. The music rattled the cabinets, the floor under their shoes vibrating faintly in time with the beat. People were dancing in the next room, someone yelling something about beer pong from the backyard, but the Pogues took a moment to regroup in the kitchen. JJ stood a bit apart from the group, back braced against the counter, swirling whatever was in his cup without really drinking it. His hat was pulled low, hair curling beneath the brim, and there was a little pinch between his brows that hadn’t faded since they arrived. Kiara noticed first. She nudged him gently with her elbow, tilting her head toward him.

“She’s not coming then?”

JJ blinked, not catching the question right away over the music.

“Huh?”

“Y/N- she’s not coming?”

Sarah repeated, louder this time, looking up from her drink. JJ’s expression tightened for a split second, and he looked down into his cup like it suddenly had answers. “Nah,” he said, voice clipped.

“She’s not.”

There was something in the way he said it in a short and flat tone, a little irritated like he didn’t want to care, but he did. Kiara gave a small nod and didn’t press. Instead, she reached out, rubbed his arm gently with her hand before stepping away to help Pope crack open a bottle of something suspiciously blue. No one said anything else. But in the middle of the crowd, under the flashing lights and the pounding bass, JJ stood a little stiller than the rest. Eyes drifting toward the front door they'd came through like maybe- just maybe- she’d still show.

Rafe shoved his way through the backyard, the lights and thumping music cutting through the cool air like a heavy pulse. He could feel the tension in his chest, the tightness that hadn’t loosened since their texts earlier... "What is this"... That question had been eating at him ever since because he didn't know what it was. But that didn't change the fact that his mind kept circling back to her. The way she made him feel, how easy it was to talk to her, how easy it was to just be around her- it wasn’t like anything he'd ever experienced. And it scared him. Because he wasn’t the kind of guy to get tangled up in feelings, he didn’t do that. But Y/N, she was different- it unsettled him. He couldn’t admit that to her, though. Couldn’t let her know that she was getting under his skin, into his bloodstream like a drug, that she was getting too close.

By the time he made it through the crowd and into the kitchen, he was ready for another drink, maybe more than one. The sound of glass bottles clinking and people chatting loudly barely registered in his mind as he reached the counter, eyes scanning the chaos for what he needed. He was almost there, his hand reaching for the first bottle of vodka, when he collided with someone.

Thud

He didn’t even flinch, just kept moving forward until he heard a sharp, annoyed voice.

“Excuse me?”

Rafe’s shoulder had shoved into Sarah, causing her to stumble back just a little. She glared up at him, her eyes narrowing with irritation. He didn’t care and he certainly wasn’t in the mood for small talk with her.

“You’re excused”

He muttered back, not even bothering to meet her eyes as he grabbed the bottle and twisted the cap off.

“Asshole”

Sarah muttered under her breath, clearly unamused, but Rafe wasn’t listening. He poured the liquor into his cup with a steady hand, watching the clear liquid slosh into the glass. The burn in his throat might’ve been the only thing that could numb the frustration gnawing at him. He downed it in one go, feeling it course through his body. Rafe stood near the edge of the kitchen, the alcohol still burning in his stomach as he surveyed the crowd. The noise was becoming a dull roar in the background, a blur of laughter and shouting, but his mind was still running on autopilot. He tried to focus on his drink, twisting the glass in his hand, but then something caught his ear.

JJ

He was talking to John B, and it didn’t take long for Rafe to hear the frustration in his voice. JJ’s words carried across the room, loud enough for Rafe to pick up on.

“I don’t get it bro”

JJ was saying, his voice edged with something close to bitterness already lightly slurred from the alcohol he consumed since they arrived, “Y/N’s always working. Always dude. It’s like- I literally got a job so she could work less? And she still can’t make time for anything. Not for me. Not for us. She's always got some lame ass excuse.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened at the sound of JJ’s voice, and he instinctively stepped closer to the conversation, the growing frustration in his chest gnawing at him. He watched as JJ’s face twisted, anger bubbling up in his expression.

“She’s never around anymore. Like, she’s always somewhere else, doing something else. It’s like she doesn't care- You know what? Maybe it’s just me she doesn’t want to spend time with maybe I’m just a fucking inconvenience to her.”

John B shifted on his feet, clearly uncomfortable, but he didn’t know how to respond. He just nodded slowly, not really agreeing or disagreeing as he brought his beer bottle to his lips. Rafe’s pulse spiked. His chest felt tight, and for a moment, the room seemed to narrow around him. His fingers tightened around the glass until his knuckles went white.

He was angry.

No, he was beyond angry.

He could feel the heat rising in his body, but it wasn’t just because of JJ’s words. It was the way he was talking about Y/N, so dismissively, so coldly. The kitchen was still a chaotic blend of chatter and clinking glass, the music vibrating through the floor, and the air thick with alcohol. But his mind wasn’t on the drink anymore. It was on her—on Y/N. On the way she would slave away all day in her shitty job only to go home to a brother who wasn't even grateful? He could hear JJ’s voice cutting through the noise of the house, loud and full of venom. Rafe turned, just in time to catch the words.

“Acting like she’s such a good fuckin’ sister,” JJ spat, his words as he gestured around. “When she can’t even take the time out of her day to talk to me. It’s a fuckin’ jok, man..”

John B was still next to him, leaning against the counter, his eyes tired, clearly not wanting to get involved in the growing tension. But he let out a soft sigh and said,

“Come on, man. You’re being a little harsh she does a lot for you-”

“-No. I’m not,”

But JJ wasn’t having it. His face twisted into a mix of frustration and bitterness. “She doesn't give a damn about anyone but herself," he snapped, his voice louder now.

"She’s a shitty fuckin’ sister.”

Rafe could feel the anger bubbling up in his chest. He was barely holding it together at this point. His hand clenched around his glass, and without thinking, he pushed himself away from where he was and made his way towards the blonde haired pogue,“Hey-” Rafe’s voice was rough, his jaw tightening,

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth.”

JJ didn’t even hesitate as his brow furrowed, his head snapping toward Rafe, his eyes narrowing. The smirk on his face was all cocky arrogance, like he wasn’t the least bit intimidated. Rafe stood in front of JJ, his fists clenched so tightly around the edge of the counter that his knuckles were turning white. His chest rose and fell with each breath, the alcohol in his system only amplifying the frustration that had been simmering for hours.

"You really think you know your sister?"

Rafe's voice cut through the tension like a blade, each word laced with disbelief and a deepening anger. His gaze was intense, narrowing as he stared down at JJ, his stance aggressive and unsteady from the booze. JJ didn’t flinch, instead, he scoffed, the sound dripping with disdain.

“Yeah, well, what the fuck do you know about her?”

The words were laced with spite, his eyes flashing as he shot back, barely holding back his irritation. He was drunk, way too much to back down. The space between them was closing, both of them leaning in slightly, their bodies tense as if they were about to collide. Rafe’s jaw tightened, his lips pressing into a thin line as his eyes flickered between JJ’s face and the rest of the room. John B was already sighing, rubbing his hand over his face, clearly feeling the impending collision. His tone was a little exasperated.

“Alright, guys... let's not do this tonight.”

But his words were barely a whisper in the whirlwind of tension between JJ and Rafe. They didn't take their eyes off each other. Rafe stood his ground, every inch of his body radiating the anger and frustration he’d been holding back all night. His expression twisted into something cold, nasty, as his voice came out low, almost a growl.

"A lot more than you"

He spat, the words dripping with contempt. JJ’s eyes flared with fury, and before anyone fully processed the insult, his body reacted. Without thinking, he shoved Rafe, a rough, sudden motion that sent the air between them crackling.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

His words were sharp, cutting through the already tense atmosphere like a knife. The crowd around them seemed to gather and the only thing that mattered now seemed to be this confrontation, the two of them standing face to face, inches away from an explosion. Rafe’s jaw clenched, his teeth gritting as he stumbled back just a half-step from the shove. But he didn’t let it slide, his eyes burned with rage, and with a brutal shove of his own, he sent JJ stumbling back.

“Get off me, you dirty fucking pogue”

He snarled, his voice a low rasp. John B and Pope, sensing the situation spiraling, rushed in to intervene, but their voices only seemed to intensify the already-fueled fire.

“Hey, hey—alright JJ stop."

“C’mon man”

John B called out, his tone a mix of frustration and concern, his hand on JJ’s arm trying to pull him back. But JJ, his face red with anger, ignored them, shoving them off as if they were nothing. His eyes were locked on Rafe, his fists trembling with barely contained rage. Sarah, standing nearby, caught sight of the escalating tension and turned to Rafe with an incredulous expression.

“What is your problem?”

She spoke out her voice sharp as he brows drew down into a concerned frown, but Rafe didn’t even glance at her. His attention was fully on JJ, the hate between them palpable. The room seemed to hold its breath, the entire kitchen watching in stunned interest as the two guys stood their postures defiant, aggressive. JJ, unable to take the weight of the situation anymore, spun on his heel and began to turn away, his anger boiling over, his fists still clenched with popes hand on his arm leading him away. But Rafe’s voice, cutting through the tense silence, sliced through the air like a final verdict.

“I pity her for having a brother like you”

He said, the words slow and deliberate, aimed to sting. The room went deathly quiet apart from a few low mutters, and for a split second and the words hung in the air like a curse. JJ froze, his back to Rafe, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. His body went rigid, the hurt flashing in his eyes as he clenched his jaw tighter. Kiara’s voice came through softly, but it was too late.

“JJ don’t”

She pleaded, but JJ had already turned and with a motion of pure, unfiltered anger, he threw a punch, his fist flying straight at Rafe’s face with all the pent-up rage he’d been holding back. The force behind it was hard enough to knock Rafe off balance, and in that moment, the air around them seemed to explode. Everything that had been building up, the tension, the anger, the frustration- finally came to a head.

And just like that, the fight erupted.

The air was thick with the sounds of punches landing, grunts of pain, and the occasional slap of skin against skin. People's previous murmuring had turned to excited yells and cheers, phones being raised as they recorded the ordeal. JJ’s vision was red, every inch of his body screamed as he threw wild punches, each one landing with force, but Rafe was no slouch- he met every hit with a violent shove or a retaliatory strike of his own. JJ's jaw was clenched tight as he pushed against Rafe, throwing a punch that caught him square in the ribs, causing the other man to grunt in pain. Rafe staggered but didn’t fall, instead grabbing JJ’s shirt and yanking him forward with a growl. Their faces were inches apart, both of them breathing heavily, sweat and blood mixing, the scent of alcohol clouding the air. Rafe’s eyes were wild, his face contorted with anger as he bit out the words through gritted teeth, each syllable harsh and slurred.

“If you love your sister so much, why is she always running to me when she’s got problems, huh?”

His grip tightened on JJ’s shirt, pulling him in closer, their faces just inches from one another. His words were cold, bitter. JJ blinked, his mind struggling to process what Rafe just said. His nostrils flared as his nose dripped blood, a line of crimson streaking down his face. JJ’s voice was a low growl, disoriented, the anger still there but replaced by confusion.

“What?”

“That’s what I thought”

Rafe sneered, a harsh laugh falling from his lips, his bloodshot eyes alight with a murderous glint. JJ’s fury surged again, his face lit with rage as his eyes narrowed, locking onto Rafe’s smug expression. Without warning, he launched himself forward, his head connecting with Rafe’s face in a brutal headbutt. The impact was sickening- Rafe’s head snapped back violently, and a grunt escaped him. He staggered back a step, dazed, blood oozing from his busted lip.

Rafe didn’t back down, he shoved JJ with both hands, sending him stumbling back a few steps. The two of them were back at it in an instant, their bodies crashing together, fists flying in every direction. JJ’s elbow connected with Rafe’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Rafe faltered this time, falling backward, his balance compromised. He hit the ground hard, the floor beneath him rattling. For a split second, the fight paused. Rafe lay there, stunned, his chest rising and falling rapidly, trying to catch his breath. But JJ was already on him, a feral grunt escaping his throat as he scrambled to pin Rafe down. He grabbed Rafe’s polo top, yanking him up to his face, his grip like iron. His chest was heaving, his breath coming out in harsh, ragged gasps as he leaned in close, his face twisted in disgust.

“Don’t fucking talk about my sister like you know her- you don't know anything about her- you don't know her like I do.”

JJ snarled, his voice low and seething. His words were laced with every ounce of hurt, frustration, and protective anger he could muster. Rafe’s head lolled back for a moment, his eyes glazed and unfocused from the blows. He let out a drunken, mocking scoff, a bitter chuckle escaping from his busted lips. His mouth was smeared with blood, but the sneer on his face was unmistakable, even through the haze of intoxication. He muttered so only the blonde boy could hear, the words sharp, but somehow quieter than before.

“You didn’t even know she was pregnant”

The entire world seemed to stop in that instant.

JJ's grip slackened, his fingers loosening around Rafe’s shirt and his chest tightened as the words hit him like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of him in an instant. John B and Pope, who had been trying to pull the two apart for the last few moments, finally managed to tear JJ off Rafe. JJ didn’t resist this time, his body felt stiff like stone, his mind struggling to catch up with what he just heard. Rafe lay on the floor, barely able to lift his head, but his voice, now quieter and almost hollow, drifted through the space between them. “Yeah,” he said, his words slow and deliberate,

“She didn’t tell you, JJ. She came to me.”

taglist: @xoxosblogsblog @moonywhisp3rs @i-love-gvf @my-name-is-baby@ltristessedureratoujours @stoned-writer @mariamadison6-blog@rafesgurl@rafecameronswhoore @lovelytoomusic @mysticbby2009 @vanessa-rafesgirl@silkenthusiasts @partygirl14 @amterasuu @xoxo-ada @icaqttt@ivysprophecy @mauvesmax @larema121 @ggraycelynn @emeloyy @pluviophilis@slut-4-gojo @willowpains @wtfisastiles @rafecqmeronslove @pleasstory@lolasangelz @beau-dabomb @psychocitylights @constantsadness @rhianthebest@emmiesummers @sfotiegiuls @ggraycelynn @larema121 @emeloyy @pluviophilis@urgoldens @insominagirlss @urfavoritebrunette007 @mauvesmax @miniiminie@kythefangirl25 @niyalovests @scream4mami @aizawawify @prettybabyyyy@barbiefan14 @keennerdslover @rafeysslut @rafeysworldim19@jennieonline@hannieskzzz@sugak00kie03@gabrielaperez11@simonejacpbsen @bambigirl10 @prettycoochieee

[abbotjack]

thinking about sending robby and abbot nudes but they’re both old and sext illiterate so they respond with something like 👍

Message Received (18+ MDNI)

Content & Warnings: NSFW (18+), suggestive photo reference, fingering (Jack), oral sex f!receiving (Robby), established relationship, dom!Jack energy, softdom!Robby energy, dirty talk, mild brat!reader, age gap, tension-heavy buildup, emotionally grounded smut, and just two very different men completely wrecked by one photo.

word count : 1,723

📩 Robby – “thumbs up.”

You send it on a whim.

Soft lighting. A lace bra you didn’t really plan to wear today. Not overt, but obvious enough.

You wait maybe thirty seconds before regretting it.

Another fifteen before his reply pops up.

Robby : 👍

Just the emoji. No caption. No follow-up. No “holy shit” or “you’re killing me” or “I’m leaving work right now.”

Just… a thumbs up.

You stare at it like it might change.

You : Are you serious?

Three dots appear. Then vanish. Then reappear again.

Finally:

Robby : Sorry. Was in the break room. Looked amazing. Shouldn’t be looking at you like that while Dana’s eating a yogurt next to me.

You laugh—because of course he’s being normal about it. Of course he’s being Robby.

You : Yogurt’s more important than me?

There’s a long pause.

Then:

Robby : No. You’re very distracting. I didn’t know what to say.

That makes you smile. Still, you want more.

You : Wish you were here.

It’s hours later when you hear the key in the lock.

Late enough that you thought he might not come. Late enough that part of you hoped he wouldn’t—just so you wouldn’t have to sit there pretending you weren’t still thinking about that dumb thumbs up.

But the door opens.

And Robby steps inside.

He shuts it behind him gently, like he’s trying not to make too much noise. Drops his keys on the table. Looks at you like he’s still catching his breath from something that’s been building all night.

You’re still in that bra.

The same one from the photo. Still waiting.

He exhales—low, unsteady.

“You’re so mean,” he murmurs. “You know that?”

You tilt your head. “I’m thoughtful.”

He starts unbuttoning his coat. “You sent that while I was sitting next to Dana.”

“I noticed.”

“I panicked.”

“You sent a thumbs up.”

“I panicked hard.”

He shrugs the coat off and crosses the room. Slower than usual. Like he’s not sure he can walk and think at the same time.

“I opened it,” he says when he stops in front of you. “And then had to sit there like I didn’t just get hit by a truck.”

You smile. “You seemed fine.”

“That was me dissociating.”

You laugh, but it’s quiet. He’s close now. Close enough to feel the heat coming off him.

He raises a hand and brushes it down your side—light, steady, like he’s grounding himself.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about it,” he says, voice soft. “What you looked like right before you took it. How long you waited to see if I’d say something else.”

“I wasn’t waiting,” you lie.

He just hums, stepping forward, crowding you gently until your back finds the wall. One hand braces beside your head. The other finds your waist.

“No?” he murmurs, dipping just enough to brush his mouth near your jaw. “You weren’t hoping I’d come home like this?”

Your fingers twist in the front of his shirt. “Maybe a little.”

He kisses you.

It’s soft, at first. Familiar. But there’s a tremble behind it, something fraying. You sigh into his mouth, and when you do, he groans—quiet, rough—and presses in harder. His hands move lower, gripping your hips like he needs to feel every inch of you.

“I wanted to say something,” he whispers against your cheek. “Wanted to tell you what I was thinking.”

“Then tell me.”

He doesn’t.

Instead, he drops to his knees.

You gasp, and he looks up once—just once—to make sure you’re still with him. You are.

He reaches up, hooks his thumbs into your underwear, and pulls them down slow. Gentle. Careful. Like he’s unwrapping something precious.

One hand glides up behind your thigh, lifting it over his shoulder. The other anchors you at the waist.

He kisses your hip first. Then your inner thigh. Then higher.

His stubble scrapes just enough to make you shiver.

And when his mouth finally touches you—hot, open, reverent—you feel your knees nearly buckle.

He holds you steady.

He groans softly at the first taste. Then again when you tilt into him.

You brace yourself against the wall, hand clutching the back of his head, fingers threading into his hair.

He moves slow at first. Methodical. Like he’s trying to memorize you. No rush, no teasing. Just full, devoted attention—lips, tongue, breath—all focused on pulling you apart with steady, quiet purpose.

When you gasp his name, he tightens his grip on your thigh and pulls you closer, mouth sealing over you deeper.

He doesn’t speak.

He doesn’t need to.

Because this is everything he couldn’t say. Everything he didn’t know how to text. Everything he’s been holding back since you first pressed send.

And it’s all here now—on his knees, in his hands, in the way he keeps going until your head hits the wall behind you and all you can do is feel.

📩 Jack – “what is that”

You send it because you’re bored.

Lying in bed. Still damp from the shower. Wrapped in a towel that barely covers anything, legs stretched out across the sheets like you’re not waiting for an excuse. The lighting’s soft—just your bedside lamp, low and gold. It makes your skin look warm. Intentional. You angled yourself toward it on purpose.

You look good. You know you look good.

And Jack? Jack’s on shift. Third night in a row. Which means you haven’t seen him—really seen him—in two days, unless you count that half-second yesterday when you passed in the hallway, both headed in opposite directions. He didn’t stop. Barely glanced. Just muttered “go home” without breaking stride—like looking at you for more than a second might’ve done something to him.

Like it already had.

So you take the photo. Legs just slightly spread. A caption typed with two thumbs and no shame:

You : come home, I miss you

Delivered. Read

Then:

Jack : what is that

You stare at your phone.

You blink.

You : What do you mean what is that. It’s a nude, Jack.

Read.

And then… nothing.

No follow-up. No typing bubbles. No emoji. Not even a fucking ellipsis.

You huff. Dramatic. Roll onto your side with a groan and grab a fistful of blanket like it’s going to do anything to cool the ache you definitely caused yourself.

If you didn’t know him, you’d think he didn’t care.

But you do know him.

And that silence?

That’s not indifference.

That’s a promise.

You’re in for it.

You’re lounging in bed in your underwear when you hear the door.

It’s late. Past midnight. You don’t move.

Jack steps in. Damp from the rain, scrubs wrinkled. He closes the door, sets his keys down, shrugs off his jacket.

Still doesn’t look at you.

You wait. Quiet.

Then—

“You send that picture just to piss me off?”

You smirk. “I was being sweet.”

He finally turns.

“You don’t do sweet.”

“Didn’t realize nudes were so boring to you,” you murmur, stretched out across the sheets. “I won’t do it again.”

His jaw ticks. “I was working.”

You tilt your head. “And now?”

He moves.

One step. Then another. Slow. Controlled.

Until he’s standing at the edge of the bed, looking down at you like he’s still deciding which part of you to ruin first.

He climbs onto the bed, slow and deliberate, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. You watch the tight line of his shoulders, the way his jaw works like he’s still biting back everything he couldn’t say earlier.

“Now you’re getting what you wanted.”

You blink up at him, lashes fluttering. “Oh? What’s that?”

Jack shifts closer, grabs your thigh—strong, steady—and lifts it over his hip, settling himself between your legs. His palm drags down your outer thigh like he’s lining you up. Holding you there. Making you wait.

“Me.”

Then he kisses you.

Rough. Steady. Like he’s been playing this on loop since the second that photo hit his phone and ruined him.

His mouth opens over yours like he needs it just to stay upright. You arch instinctively, back bowing into the pressure, thighs tightening around his hips.

“Thought about this all fucking day,” he mutters into your skin, lips at your throat. “You don’t get to send me that and pretend you didn’t know what it’d do.”

You smirk, rocking your hips into his. “Did it ruin your shift?”

He laughs under his breath—dark, quiet. Dangerous.

“Don’t push it.”

You grind into him again. Slower this time. Testing.

“I missed you,” you whisper, low and saccharine.

He hums—sharp, dry. “Yeah?”

Then his hand moves.

Fast. Precise.

His fingers hook under your panties and tug them down—slow enough to draw a shiver out of you, fast enough to say he’s not asking. They’re gone a second later, tossed somewhere near the foot of the bed.

He doesn’t break eye contact.

Doesn’t say a word as he slides his fingers between your thighs.

You gasp when he finds you—already wet, already aching—and his lips twitch like he’s smug about it. Like he knew.

“You’re soaked,” he says, voice barely audible. “Figured.”

His fingers move slow at first. Two of them. Deep. Steady.

You moan—quiet, caught—and Jack exhales like that was what he needed. The confirmation. The surrender.

His thumb finds your clit. No teasing. Just pressure—tight and constant and mean.

Your hips jump. Your fingers grip his wrist.

He doesn’t let up.

“Jack—”

He shushes you with a kiss, his hand working between your legs like he has all the time in the world.

You cry out—nearly choking on it.

He curls his fingers.

You jolt.

“There she is.”

His voice is steady. Like nothing about this has affected him. Like he’s not hard under his scrubs, not unraveling with every pulse of you around his hand.

He leans in, lips brushing your cheek.

“This is what you wanted, right?”

You nod, dizzy.

“Say it.”

“Yes,” you breathe. “God—yes.”

His mouth grazes your jaw.

“Good.”

He doesn’t stop.

Not until you’re shaking.

Not until you’re arching into him, hand clutching the sheets, panting his name through clenched teeth like that photo wasn’t the start—it was the warning.

And this?

This is what happens when he finally opens it.

[monstersholygrail]

Can we just take a minute to thirst over the idea of big beefy Wolf Hybrid bf wearing the sluttiest damn shorts you, a Puppy Hybrid, have ever seen.

And imagine when he sits down they ride up even further, revealing more of the thick muscle glistening from the sun’s heat. You just have to thank the weather for how unnaturally hot it’s been because you never wouldn’t been blessed with the sight otherwise.

It’s impossible not to stare as the fabric presses tight against his skin like he purposefully bought them a size too small. You watch transfixed as they bunch up by his hips, coming to hug his crotch perfectly, revealing the massive heat he’s packing. You almost can’t believe what you’re seeing as you wonder how all that can fit into such tiny shorts.

By this point you’re salivating and you don’t think he could possibly get even hotter when something peaks out from beneath the shorts. You realize after a moment they’re his briefs and you have to pick up your jaw before you start drooling.

His hand nearly covers the entire width of his thigh as he casually pulls at his briefs instead of the shorts and an involuntary shudder jerks through your body, your panties flooding with a gush of arousal.

Immediately your cheeks flush red and you quickly look away, not wanting to admit to yourself that something so small could turn you on so bad. But it did, it so did. Your wet panties sticking to your sopping folds was proof enough of that. Fuck, you are so wrecked for your sexy and insanely slutty Wolf Hybrid bf. And at a public event, no less. You’d jump his bones anywhere any time, you were just that shameless for him.

You needed to get away, cool yourself down. Pushing out of your seat you try and make your way inside. But you slip up and make one fatal mistake. Passing your bf on the way in.

His solid fingers curl around your wrist and it takes only a moment to realize who’s touching you as he pulls you down into his lap, facing toward him. The second your needy cunt makes contact with his muscular thigh you’re letting out a whiny howl that lets him know how bad you need him.

“Where you goin’ ma, don’t feel good?” He asks with a smirk, acting all coy.

An adorable pout makes its way on your lips that he doesn’t hesitate to kiss. Which of course makes you even more horny. You chuff loudly, shaking your head and showing your displeasure. But it only makes his smirk widen, arrogance coming off him in waves.

“Aw, really? That’s too bad, Princess,” he purrs, his claws falling to your waist.

With slow practiced movements he begins subtly rocking your wet core along the length of his thigh. Your head swims with pleasure, lashes fluttering at the relief. And when he flexes the muscle just as he drags your clit down on him you practically cum right there, jaw dropping.

He works you slowly and carefully on his thigh, managing not to draw any attention while moving just enough to make your pussy flutter as you grow closer and closer to your release. You hold onto him for dear life, sighing out quiet moans and watching every minute of his dumb, smug, gorgeous face.

You’re so close, each ripple of his thigh muscles sending you closer to your peak. His leg bounces every few rock of your hips and you have to bite your lip now to howl again.

“You’re really not looking good, baby. I think we should get you home,” he says a little louder this time, catching the attention of a few people around you. Knowing just how close you are he can’t resist teasing you.

But you’re too far gone to snap back, all you can do is whimper and shake your head. Falling forward you tuck your face into his neck, trying desperately to keep quiet.

“No, you wanna stay? Ok, then just relax and let go for me, babygirl,” he says more calmly.

And as he rolls your clit over his flexing thigh one more time your entire body tenses, orgasm pouring out of you in waves. Your bf is right there the entire time, rubbing your back and helping you work through it.

When you sag against him fully his deep chuckle echos in your ear. He pulls you a little closer to him now and you moan as his hard bulge presses against your ass.

“Maybe you wanna go home now?” He asks again.

This time you’re nodding eagerly, tail wagging with anticipation behind you. More than ready to rip those slutty shorts off of him and tear them to shreds to get to that dick.

[gf2bellamy]

hi!! so, i was watching the office and pam and jim were reading each others palm lines and i couldn’t help but imagine reader and spencer in a similar scenario; successfully flirting with each other while thinking they’re being discreet about it. of course, spencer doesn’t believe in that sort of thing but humors reader anyway. could you write something based off that episode, something to that effect? i think this could be a cute idea😅 thank you thank you!! xx

palm reading — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: fluff a/n: hi hi !! i love this idea more than anything ( biggest jimpam fan here !!!! )

“Oh, come on, Spencer,” you teased, the corners of your mouth tugging into a grin. “You don’t have to believe in it for it to be fun.”

The bullpen was quiet for once—no urgent cases, no ringing phones.

The perfect time for a little distraction.

Your eyes sparkled with mischief as you gave him your best set of puppy dog eyes—an expression you knew he found impossible to resist. You were trying to convince him to let you read his palm, but, true to form, Spencer—ever the scientist, ever the skeptic—wasn’t exactly jumping at the opportunity.

He blinked at you, momentarily thrown off. He didn’t believe in palmistry, not even a little bit.

But your eyes were wide and full of playful determination, and your smile… God, your smile made something flutter unexpectedly in his chest. He tried not to stare too long at your lips, tried to ground himself in logic, but when you looked at him like that?

Well, logic didn’t stand a chance.

He sighed, more for dramatic effect than anything else.

“Fine,” he said, voice laced with exaggerated reluctance.

You grinned, triumphant. “Bring your chair over here.”

He rolled his chair across the floor until he was beside you. Close—but not quite close enough. So you reached out, grabbed the edge of his seat, and tugged him forward.

He let you, of course. Always would.

Now, your knees were brushing—his slotted between yours, yours nudged between his. The space between you all but vanished, and suddenly the air felt warmer. Neither of you mentioned it.

You simply extended your hand, palm up, expectant. “C’mon, give me your hand.”

Spencer hesitated for only a second, then placed his hand in yours. Warm. Solid. His fingers twitched slightly as your fingertips ghosted over his palm, tracing faint lines he had never bothered to study.

Germs? They didn’t exist when it came to you. At least, not in the way they usually haunted his mind.

You focused intently, brows furrowed like a fortune teller, the tip of your finger dragging lightly over his heart line. He watched your face—your expression, your lips, your eyes—anything but his hand.

But eventually, reluctantly, his gaze dropped back to his own hand—though it twitched slightly beneath yours as if reacting on instinct.

“Hmm,” you murmured thoughtfully, still dragging your finger across his skin. “This line right here? It means you’re secretly a hopeless romantic.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow, skeptical but amused. “That’s not what it means.”

“You sure?” You leaned in, your knee nudging his under the desk. “Because it’s very deep. Very intense. Very… emotional.” You punctuated each word with a slow stroke of your finger, watching with delight as his throat bobbed.

He chuckled softly, his head tilting as his eyes followed the curve of your smile. “You’re making that up.”

“Maybe,” you said, voice dropping into something softer, more teasing. You winked. “But it doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

Spencer didn’t answer right away. He was too busy watching how your hand fit so naturally in his, how easily your fingers curled around his own.

His heart beat a little too fast for comfort.

You cleared your throat and returned your attention to his palm, biting your lip in thought as you continued your "analysis." Spencer noticed the way your teeth tugged at your lower lip and had to look away—back to his hand, back to the lines that suddenly felt like more than just skin.

“And this one,” you began again, voice dramatic. “This one means that you’re—” You gasped suddenly, sharply, like you'd discovered something scandalous.

Spencer’s eyes widened, startled. “What? What is it?”

You looked up slowly, lips pressed together in mock seriousness. Your eyes locked with his, unreadable for just a second before you leaned in closer.

“A nerd,” you said flatly, and promptly bopped him on the nose with one finger.

The look on his face—pure, deadpan confusion—was too much. You burst into laughter, the sound bubbling up from your chest as you leaned back slightly, shaking your head.

Spencer blinked, caught somewhere between offended and endeared. “Seriously?”

“I mean,” you shrugged with an impish grin, “the lines don’t lie.”

He rolled his eyes, but the smile pulling at his lips gave him away. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you,” you said, still laughing as you held his hand a little tighter, “are stuck with me for at least one full palm reading.”

He let you keep tracing the lines on his palm, your touch slower now, more deliberate.

“Okay, so this line here,” you began, your tone shifting into something warmer, more sincere, “means you’re incredibly smart.”

Spencer quirked an eyebrow. “Shocking revelation.”

“Shh,” you grinned, “let the professional work.”

He chuckled under his breath, but didn’t interrupt again.

He just kept watching you, his eyes impossibly soft, like he was memorizing the way your expression shifted as you spoke.

“And this one,” you continued, your touch lingering a little longer over the curve of his palm, “shows that you’re thoughtful. You care more than you let people see. About everyone. About the team. About…” You hesitated, eyes flicking up to meet his. “Well. Everything.”

Spencer didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.

Because to him, it didn’t matter whether you believed in palmistry or not. What mattered was the way your voice softened when you described him, like you saw something in him that he sometimes forgot was there. This wasn’t just pretend anymore. This was you, telling him who he was through your eyes.

And God, he loved hearing those things.

Not because he needed validation.

But because it was you saying them.

Your thumb brushed lightly over his skin as you looked at his palm like it held all the answers you already knew by heart.

“I think your hands have very flattering opinions about me,” he said quietly, the hint of a smile on his lips, though there was something softer behind his eyes now.

“They’re just the messengers,” you replied, matching his quiet tone, your thumb absentmindedly brushing across his knuckles. “You’re the one who makes them true.”

A beat of silence. Spencer could hear his own heartbeat drumming in his ears.

Then, he let out a quiet breath. “You know palmistry is a pseudoscience, right?” he murmured, his voice quieter now.

You smiled, meeting his gaze. “Maybe. But sometimes the truth hides in things we don’t believe in.”

And then you added, softer, “Or maybe I just wanted an excuse to hold your hand.”

There was a pause—brief, breathless.

So, Spencer gently turned your hand over in his, his fingers now tracing your palm.

“Then maybe,” he said, voice low and warm, “you should let me read yours next.”

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Okay, sure.” You held out your hand, now resting in his.

His fingers were warm as they wrapped around yours, a contrast to the coolness of the room.

“So,” you tilted your head, giving him a playful glance, “are you just going to make things up now? Considering you don’t believe in this?”

Spencer’s gaze flickered to your hand before he began tracing the lines on your palm, his touch light. “Oh, you mean make things up like you just did?” His voice was teasing, but his eyes met yours with a slight glimmer of amusement.

You bit your lip, pretending to think for a moment. “I didn’t make anything up,” you said with a shrug and a sly grin, your eyes locking with his. “I was being insightful.”

He chuckled, a soft, warm sound. “Yeah, okay,” he said with a playful roll of his eyes, though his fingers never stopped their slow, careful movement across your palm.

You leaned back slightly, watching him as he studied your hand with more attention than you’d expected.

"You're kind," Spencer murmured, his fingertip following the gentle curve of your heart line.

The bullpen's fluorescent lights caught the gold flecks in his eyes as he glanced up through his lashes, that familiar half-smile playing at his lips.

You shook your head, but couldn't suppress your grin. "Wow," you teased, "look who's starting to become a believer."

His responding chuckle was warm, vibrating through where your palms pressed together. "Empirical observation," he countered, but his thumb brushed your skin with deliberate tenderness that contradicted his scientific detachment. "This crease here? Textbook definition of compassion."

The way he said it - so matter-of-fact yet impossibly soft - made your breath catch.

Spencer Reid might claim he didn't believe in palmistry, but in this moment, he was reading you with terrifying accuracy.

His fingers lingered where your life line curved, tracing the path like he was committing it to memory.

"And this one," he continued, voice dropping to that quiet, intimate register that made your pulse stutter, "indicates someone who's far too patient with skeptical geniuses."

You giggled, your heart fluttering at the way his words, though playful, held a deeper meaning.

“I agree,” you said softly, your smile widening. But the weight of the moment wasn’t lost on either of you.

Spencer smiled back at you, and for a fleeting moment, he seemed to pause, his gaze lingering. He thought for a second about making more things up—just to keep his fingers wrapped around yours.

Honestly, there was a part of him that could have kept talking forever, spinning stories about palm lines, just to have an excuse to hold your hand forever.

Instead, he grinned, that familiar half-smile tugging at his lips. “Seems like I’m a believer after all.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words. “Who knew?” you teased, squeezing his hand slightly. “You’ve got more of an open mind than you let on.”

Spencer chuckled. “Guess I’ve been misjudging things,” he replied, the playful edge in his voice softening, his thumb now moving in slow circles over the back of your hand.

You were both still, caught in a small, quiet world that only existed between the two of you.

He didn’t pull away. Neither did you.

For the first time, Spencer doubted his doubt in palm reading.

Because he was a hopeless romantic. Even if it was just with you.

[sejianismodding]

🚧 [PENDING] CAS Custom Filters -- BOOYAH!

☠️ REMINDER: Double-check the OP for updates!

⚠️ ATTENTION: I'm migrating and splitting the @ list!

⚔️ Requires - TS4: BASE GAME

☄️ Updated - NIL

🚀 Initial Release - NIL

🎁 No Downloads Yet, Just Discussions For Now: https://www.patreon.com/posts/126616540

🗺️ Modding Announcements: https://www.patreon.com/posts/109291501

💬 Do you suppose we could convince anyone to get on board so we can make this dream a reality for everyone, everywhere, all at once? Technically, it's already a reality, because I just did it. <CACKLES>

🦄 Share it around. Tell your friends and your anemones. This is happening even if I have to do it myself.

🎓 SOME ASSEMBLY REQUIRED - You need my filter override, and more importantly, a new "SpecialContent" TAG must to be added to the first swatch or every swatch of CAS items - this is the bulk of the work, and it's why I'd like creators to get on board so they can include the unique TAG that I've defined for them in their items going forward. Read through my Patreon post if you're new to all of this, because there's an issue with Sims4Studio. I will expand/clarify my instructions as time passes.

🌸 Oh hai @sims4studioofficial, can you add a BATCH FIX that <LOOKS THROUGH MY BATCH FIX WISH LIST> allows us to add a custom "SpecialContent" TAG to a whole folder of custom content, similar to the BATCH FIX that allows us to modify "DisplayIndex"? Asking for a friend.

🌸 I intend to define TAGS and filters for literally everyone who creates CAS custom content (unless the override explodes because I'm stuffing it too much), but I don't know everyone, so please announce yourself if you weren't included and would like to be included. I might also define TAGS and filters for creators who don't specialize in CAS custom content. The (9) digits is the unique "TagValueNumber". Use it with the "SpecialContent" TAG to configure your CC for filtering.

👹 HEADS UP - I'm migrating and splitting this list into multiple posts to accommodate Tumblr's limitations.

@alisasour - 201547276

@azeternasims - 201938376

@bananasimss - 202262627

@biqueradashay - 202377972

@cazhan - 203294262

@cursedbeasts-cc - 203877332

@daylifesims - 304295433

@divinecap - 304484632

@dizzyrobinsims - 304499974

@elfdor - 305533670

@fatalrosecreations - 306282576

@glitterberrysims - 407548837

@gloomiegalaxie - 407566643

@iona-cc - 409662220

@hymless - 408965377

@johnnysimmer - 510646697

@keirosims - 511347674

@lilchamomil - 512452426

@lilis-palace - 512454772

@lustrousims - 512878768

@madlensims - 613235360

@mimamongbusowg - 613462000

@myshunosun - 613974866

@nadiafabulousflow - 614234232

@occultradio - 615228587

@oito-cc - 615486220

Ophernelia @margotaspen - 615743763

@orionisms - 615746600

@plazasims - 716529274

@plbsims4 - 716527467

@raven4sims - 718283647

@remussirion - 718368774

@royaltysimblr - 718692589

@sentate - 719368283

@simplyanjuta - 719467592

@v-i-c-c-s - 822422700

@warwickroyals - 923279425

📸 I'll take better screenshots when I get the chance. I literally figured out how to do this in the middle of doing my BASE GAME CAS Overrides, CAS Add-Ons, and CAS De-Bloating™.

🗪 @pocketposies333 - A search bar would be awesome, but for us to be able to search for creator names, I assume we'd still need custom TAGS and STRINGS, or maybe not TAGS, but custom "PartKeys"? At one point in time, TwistedMexi was working on something for CAS similar to Better BuildBuy, but if I remember correctly, the post announcing it was behind a paywall, and I have no idea if it was ever finished. Right now, this is the best I can give you. 💜

[lazysoulwriter]

sweetest man alive - pedro pascal.

requested! hope u enjoyy.

---

Pedro’s curls are extra fluffy tonight, the result of too much nervous hand-combing in the dressing room. He’s sitting on the iconic couch of The Graham Norton Show, sipping on water even though there’s a fancy cocktail in front of him. There’s a buzz in the studio—part excitement, part anticipation—because everyone knows the topic’s about to shift to her.

They've just wrapped up a chaotic segment with a comedian and a pop star, and Graham leans toward him with a knowing smirk. Pedro already senses it coming.

“So Pedro,” Graham begins, drawing out the syllables, “the internet’s in shambles over you two going official. How’s life treating you now that you’re a proper, public couple?”

The audience oooohs, claps, and Pedro—sweet, soft Pedro—blushes immediately. He tries to hide it behind his glass but he’s grinning like an idiot.

“Oh God,” he says, voice already a few decibels higher, “are we really doing this?”

“Yes, we are,” Graham says smugly. “You posted the photo. There’s no going back.”

Pedro shakes his head, laughing. “I didn’t post it, she did! And I asked for it. I begged for it, actually.” He leans back into the couch, one hand pressed over his chest dramatically. “I saw the picture and said, ‘Please, you have to post this. The world deserves to see how hot we look together.’”

The audience laughs, and Graham raises his brows. “So you’re fully leaning in, huh?”

Pedro nods, then softens instantly. His shoulders relax, the smirk fades into a fond, half-smitten smile.

“Yeah,” he says, quietly now. “I mean, I’ve never felt like this before. It’s just… easy. Like, we’re laughing all the time, she annoys me in the best way, I wake up and she’s there and I’m like, ‘Oh, cool, I get to do life with you.’”

The audience lets out a collective aww, and Pedro looks mildly flustered again, running a hand through his hair.

Graham chuckles. “You’re glowing, man. You’re like—radiating love.”

“I am in love,” Pedro says without hesitation, completely unbothered by the way the crowd reacts. “Like, I’m an actual mess. I hear her voice and I start smiling like a fool. I wait by the door when she’s coming over, like a golden retriever. It’s embarrassing. I’m disgusting.”

More laughter. He leans forward, as if to confide in the whole audience.

“She sent me a video of her dancing in my kitchen the other day,” he says, beaming. “Wearing my hoodie. Just dancing like a weirdo with the cat in her arms. I’ve watched it at least fifty times. I show it to everyone. Even people on set who didn’t ask.”

Graham’s laughing so hard he has to wipe his eyes. “Pedro, this is honestly the sappiest I’ve ever seen you.”

“Yeah,” Pedro shrugs. “She ruined me. I was a cool, mysterious man before this.”

“No, you weren’t,” the pop star interrupts playfully from the other couch.

Pedro points at them. “Exactly. I wasn’t. And now I’m not even pretending. I just want to brag about my girlfriend and how good she smells and how nice she is to everyone, and how sometimes I catch her making playlists for me and pretending like it’s not the most romantic thing in the world.”

Graham grins. “You’re officially the softest man alive.”

“I’ll take that title proudly,” Pedro says, placing a hand over his heart. “Long live the soft kings.”

The segment ends with the audience clapping, Pedro still smiling like he’s holding onto a secret, one that smells like his hoodie and dances in his kitchen with a cat in her arms.

---

[sturnlsstuff]

⸻ CHRIS FUCKING YOU WITH YOUR DILDO IN FRONT OF A MIRROR. . .

the air in the room was thick and electric, your moans were filling the room as you squirm around in chris's arms, trying to keep your focus on the mirror in front of you.

seeing your own reflection was making everything even more intense. your eyebrows were knitted together, mouth slightly opened as you gasp softly for air. but the hottest thing that was keeping you going, was being able to see what chris is doing to you.

the pink big dildo you usually use for your own night entertainment, was being thrusted in and out of your dripping pussy at an incredible speed. you and chris were both sat on the floor, you on his lap facing the mirror, with your legs spread wide, exposing yourself not only to his gaze, but to your own as well.

it's been the hottest thing you've ever experienced.

your hair was messy from running your hands through it, cheeks flushed, chest raising and falling quickly, and you were both embarrassed and desperate.

"look at that pretty pussy," he murmurs into your ear, his eyes locked on the mirror as well. chris was painfully hard just from pleasuring and watching you, and the feeling of his clothed dick poking your ass was making the situation even more intense. "all mine, hm?"

he pulls the toy out of your entrance, trailing it along your wetness before entering you back again, making your hips jerk forward slightly.

he tsks, his smirk growing wider, "stay still, mama."

you could only whimper in response, watching as the dildo disappears inside you again, so deep that it was hitting your g-spot. chris's free hand keeps playing with your nipple, loving the sounds you make whenever he pinches it.

"fuckin' drippin' for some pink ass toy... it's cute, actually. you like pretending this my dick when i ain't around? you cum harder with this fake shit? hm?" he tilts his head to the side, his breath hot against your ear. he pulls the dildo out slowly, then slams it back in, making you cry out and arch your back against him.

"f-fuck, chris...." you whimper pathetically, not daring to let your eyes flutter shut even if you barely could keep them opened. but you wanted to watch. wanted to see how he's ruining you with your own toy.

chris picks up the pace, making you clench around the dildo which almost makes him come right on the spot, especially with your ass perfectly brushing against his tip whenever you were moving on his lap. he could barely hold back.

"you're so fuckin' hot," he groans, watching you in the reflection, seeing how your pussy grips the toy with each thrust. it only makes him start fucking you harder, his hand still playing with your tits, sending shivers down your spine.

"chris, i can't— mmhph— holy shit...."

he grins, angling the toy to hit your g-spot more purposely now. "y'take it soooo well... " he mutters, his voice husky.

it feels like you might start seeing stars. you writhe against him, gripping his shoulder with one hand for any kind of support, eyes locked on yourself in the mirror. you don't even know for how long he's been doing this to you, but it felt like you might break anytime soon, especially with the wet squelching coming from you and the way your arousal was dripping down the dildo and your thighs.

"look how pretty you are, takin' it so deep..." he coos in your ear, moving his hand from your nipples to your clit, rubbing it in fast circles while he keeps thrusting the toy in and out of you. "you like watchin' y'self gettin' fucked out of your mind?" he increases the speed of his thrusts and the pressure on your clit, knowing you're close. he shifts under you, making his cock brush against your butt harder. "y'feel it? feel it rubbing up against you?"

"oh god... gonna— gonna cum, chris—" you whine, barely able to keep watching your reflection, your face contorts with pleasure, body trembles against his. it was overwhelming.

"c'mon mama, lemme see you come allllll over your pink little toy...." he says, his voice thick with lust.

you're a desperate mess at this point, moaning his name like your life depended on it, lifting your hips to feel the dildo even deeper. he keeps rubbing your clit, his lips finding their way to your neck, sucking and marking you all over to show everyone that you're his and his only. "suchhh a greedy pussy...." he mutters against your skin.

a final gasp leaves your mouth, your gummy walls squeezing the dildo like a vice as chris keeps his fast pace. your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, your fingers digging into chris's shoulder as you fight the urge to close your eyes. your gaze was on the mirror as well as chris's, watching how your lips are parted, letting out whimpers and moans, your hair sticking to your skin. "there you go, pretty..." he hums, loving how you're basically transfixed on your reflection. he keeps the toy shallowly thrusting, riding out your climax.

"good girl..." he praises, then moving the dildo out of you just to spread your folds with his fingers, letting you see your own release leaking out of you.

he presses another kiss to your shoulder, the smirk on his lips only widening when your eyes lock on his in the mirror. you're completely out of it.

"you ready to make the same mess on my cock now?"

© sturnlsstuff

[clownprincesshq]

PROLOGUE: THE BITE

"You've got the costume. You've got the power. You're Spider-Woman. Act like it." 🕷🕸️

Main!Mark Grayson x Spider-Woman! Reader

warnings: SMUT, violence, passing out, blood,

w/c: 8.9k

a/n: okay so i was planning to post the kryptonian fic first, but after looking over it again… yeah. it needs a little love before it’s ready. it’s super long, super heavy, and honestly gonna be a bit draining to get through right away. i do still plan to post it, i just wanna make sure i have the energy to really do it justice. so in the meantime, i’m gonna give you the mark x spiderwoman!reader fic instead :) it’s way more chill, still emotional and fun, and honestly feels like a good breather between heavier projects. the kryptonian fic is still coming just after i rest my brain a little <3 thank you for being so patient with me!!

You feel it before your eyes even open, the sweet brush of a breath at your neck, the warmth of another body drawn close against yours like he never wanted to let go, and the creak of Mark’s mattress underneath the both of you as he moves slightly. Morning light streams through the curtains in languid golden slats, cutting across the dorm room and putting everything in a calm of gentle, tranquil hue. You’re still buried in slumber, locked between a dream and the weight of a boy's arm slung around your waist.

You don’t need to turn around to know who it is. The big chest against your back, the familiar warmth, the way his fingers quiver slightly as if even in repose they’re attempting to cling onto something precious, him. Mark Grayson.

You let your eyes flicker open and then quickly squint at the ceiling. Your throat’s dry, your hair's certainly a mess, and you’re still wearing his shirt, oversized and soft, smelling faintly like his detergent plus something else that you’re too weary to define but know is just him.

You stayed over. You really stayed over. You hadn’t intended to, precisely. But one thing turned into another, cheesy sci-fi marathons, sarcastic commentary, a slow drift into each other’s arms, and suddenly you were dozing off against his shoulder while William grabbed a hoodie and vanished off to Rick’s dorm for the night with an exaggerated wink and an even worse “you kids behave.”

You'd rolled your eyes. Mark had just blushed.

Now his arm’s still over you like he never quite received the memo that the movie finished and morning came.

He breathes in deep, leisurely, and you feel his chest rise behind you.

“Morning,” he mumbles, voice low and tired.

You can’t help it, you smile. “You always open with poetry?”

“Only for special occasions,” he says into your hair. He shifts a bit closer. “Like waking up next to you.”

You slide onto your back, turning to face him, propped up on your elbow. His eyes are still half-lidded, but they’re already fixed on you, azure and velvety and full of something that makes your breath catch in your throat. He looks like he doesn’t want to be anywhere else. Like you’re it.

Your voice comes out softer than you meant. “Thought you had class this morning?”

He moans, full-bodied and theatrical, and collapses backward like a man shot. “Ughhh. Don’t remind me.”

“Responsibility calls, Grayson.”

“So does your mouth,” he mumbles under his breath, smirking.

You freeze.

Then snort, because what the hell. “Excuse me?!”

“I meant-!” He’s laughing now, genuine and brilliant, and it’s so disarming that your heart flutters with it. “I meant I wanted to kiss you again and now I’ve ruined it forever.”

You press his shoulder, but your palm lingers. “Yeah, well, that’s what you get for flirting before caffeine.”

He observes you for a second. That languid smile turns into something else, quieter, more earnest.

Then, without a word, he leans forward and kisses you.

No jokes, no buildup this time, just lips on lips, unhurried and sure, his fingertips stroking your jaw. You kiss him back, smooth and steady, like there’s no urgency. Like this morning might stretch out forever if you let it.

But then his hand moves, down your side, landing at your waist, and something changes in the way he kisses you. His mouth widens gently, deepening it, and your breath catches. His other hand tangles in your hair, not tugging, but there, holding you to him like he’s worried you’ll drift off again.

Your body responds before your intellect does. You press closer, one leg slipping over his, fingers digging into his shirt like you need anything to grasp onto. His grasp on your waist tightens just little in reaction.

He kisses you like he’s wanted to all night. Maybe longer.

You break the kiss to breathe, forehead crushed to his, and try to make a joke, but all that comes out is, “God.”

Mark smiles, eyes flitting across your face. “Yeah. That’s about where I’m at too.”

You chuckle, breathless and trembling, and kiss him again.

And again.

And again, until you’re half on top of him and the sheets are a jumble and none of you remember what time it is or where you’re meant to be.

His fingers glide under the hem of the shirt you stole, brushing bare skin. Your breath catches, part nervousness, half something else you don’t have the words for yet. Your heart is hammering in your chest, loud and dramatic THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

Mark pauses. Looks at you.

You nod, just once.

And he kisses you like he’s been holding back.

He draws you in with both hands, lips ravenous now, his tongue stroking yours, and it’s messier, hotter, his body pushed tight to yours. You feel the weight of him between your legs, the hardness he’s not bothering to disguise anymore. Your body responds instinctively, hips pressing against him, lips opening wider, hands going beneath his shirt now, across his back, his sides.

You don’t know what you’re doing. Not really. But you know you want this. Want him. Every inch of him, every gasp and tremble, every secret thought behind those watchful brown eyes.

You don’t know that he’s a superhero. That he’s lifted buildings, fought monsters, saved lives while keeping all of this secret from you. You just know that he’s Mark, and right now, he’s kissing you like the world outside the dorm doesn’t exist.

And you’re kissing him back like you’ve never believed in anything more.

You melt under him, unable to resist that low groan he lets out when your tongue meets his. It’s a soft morning kiss, warm and thick with the drowsy heat of sleep, but there’s something more under it. A current humming beneath his skin.

“God, you’re cute when you wake up,” he whispers, voice rough like gravel, and you roll your eyes but you blush. Of course you do. You always do.

“I look like Seance Dog after that dumpster fight,” you mumble, pulling the sheet up to your nose. But his hand’s already slipping lower, fingers gliding over your stomach, your pajama pants thin and already doing nothing to hide how warm you are underneath.

His thumb strokes your skin just under the waistband. Testing. Teasing. You twitch, not out of resistance, but anticipation.

“Shut up,” he grins. “You look like you. That’s the best part.”

And then his hand moves lower.

You gasp, breath hitching as his fingers slip past the fabric, finding heat, slickness, the subtle throb of your body waking up faster than your mind can process. He watches your face as he touches you, eyes narrowing just slightly, lips parted. He’s focused. Not cocky. Not groping or rushing. No, Mark is intent. Studying you like he’s discovering a part of you for the first time. Like each inch of you is a secret he wants to learn by touch.

“You’re already this wet?” he breathes, voice barely above a whisper, more wonder than tease. “Fuck.”

Your cheeks burn. Your thighs press tighter around his hand but you don’t stop him. You couldn’t if you tried. He slides two fingers along your folds, slow and deliberate, making you bite your lip to stop from moaning out loud.

“Mark…” you whisper. Not a protest. Not a plea. Just his name, breathy and unsure, because it’s all new. This is new. Not the kissing. Not the cuddling. Not the way he looks at you like you’re made of starlight and lightning. But this, his fingers in your pants, his mouth against your cheek as he murmurs, “It’s okay. I got you.”

Your hips twitch, grinding down just slightly against his hand without thinking. He catches that. Smiles. And moves his fingers lower, circling your clit with the softest, slowest motion that makes your toes curl under the sheets.

He leans closer. You can feel the heat of his breath against your ear. “Can I make you feel good?” he asks it like a promise, not a question. “Can I keep going?”

Your breath is shaky, heart slamming against your ribs, and your body answers before your brain can. Your hips roll forward, pressing harder into his hand, chasing that friction, that pleasure just out of reach.

He kisses your neck, and then he moves again, fingers slick with you now, pushing inside, slow, gentle, coaxing your body open as he watches your expression shift. Surprise, heat, need. Your hand flies to his shoulder, fingers digging into the muscle as his thumb brushes your clit again and again with each thrust of his fingers.

“You feel so fucking good,” he whispers, low and rough and raw.

You moan. This time you can’t help it.

And still, you don’t know.

You don’t know that Mark Grayson isn’t just the too-cute, weirdly poetic guy who treats you like you matter in ways no one ever has. You don’t know he’s stronger than steel, faster than light. That the fingers inside you have punched holes through spaceships.

All you know is this, his mouth, his breath, his touch, and the sound of your own voice breaking around his name as his fingers fuck you deeper, curling just right, finding that spot that makes you tremble all the way down to your toes.

You’re trying to be cool about it. You really are.

But your head’s thrown back against the pillow, your eyes fluttering half-shut, and your whole body’s betraying you, hips twitching, stomach flexing, legs trembling under the slow, obscene rhythm of Mark’s fingers still buried inside you. Every time he curls them just right, that electric jolt lights up your spine and short-circuits every dumb, stammering comeback you were trying to form. You're stifling moans with your knuckles, eyes wide, staring up at the ceiling like it might explain what the hell is happening to your life.

Because holy shit. This is happening.

Mark Grayson, dorky, sweet, absurdly hot Mark who somehow fell into your orbit and never left, he’s got his fingers inside you and he’s not acting like it’s a game. He’s looking at you like it matters. Like he’s memorizing every twitch, every breath, every broken sound that slips from your lips. His brow furrows when you gasp, and he shifts his hand just slightly, hunting for that same reaction again. He finds it.

“Yeah,” he whispers, half-smiling. “Right there. That’s it.”

You nod furiously, too breathless to form actual words, one hand tangled in the sheets, the other gripping his bicep like it’s the only thing tethering you to Earth. He’s strong, stronger than he should be. His muscles don’t bulge obnoxiously, but you can feel the power under your palm, the way his arm doesn’t give an inch even when you clutch at him in desperation.

“God, Mark-” you choke out, biting your lip hard as he thrusts his fingers deeper again. “I-shit…I haven’t-”

He pauses, lips brushing your temple, voice a low, reverent hush. “Hey. You okay?”

Your laugh breaks halfway into a moan, shaky and high-pitched. “Yeah. Just. You’re really good at this, and I’ve… not exactly had a lot of practice. You know. In real life. Not with anybody but you.”

Mark’s eyebrows lift. His fingers don’t stop moving, but he slows them, lets you breathe a second. “You mean like, what, just crushes? Or…”

You snort. “I mean I’ve kissed my own hand more times than actual people. And one of those kisses ended with braces involved and both of us bleeding.”

That makes him grin. Like, wide. Like you just told him the greatest thing he’s ever heard. “Jesus. You’re adorable.”

“I’m mortified.”

“You’re hot as hell.” His voice dips again, right against your neck. “And you’re clenching around my fingers, so either you’re secretly a world-class actor or you’re really into this.”

“I’m trying to play it cool,” you whisper, which would be a lot more convincing if your thighs weren’t shaking.

He chuckles softly, kissing your neck. “You’re doing so bad at that.”

You squirm, trying to glare at him, but he hooks his fingers just so and your head jerks back with a whimper you couldn’t stop if you wanted to. He moans into your skin, the sound of him loving every reaction you give him, it’s shameless, filthy, real.

“Mark,” you breathe, voice catching. “If you keep doing that, I’m gonna…I’m gonna-”

“I want you to,” he whispers, his fingers moving faster now, rhythm steady, confident. “You should see how good you look right now. You’re so fucking perfect like this.”

Your whole body coils tight, tension winding through your core, and suddenly you’re right there, teetering, begging for that final push. You grip his arm like a lifeline, gasping out ragged little half-sobs as he brings you closer.

Your orgasm hits like a jolt, like falling out of your body. Your back arches, thighs squeezing his hand, breath punched from your lungs as you cry out, no filter, no shame, no idea what sound just ripped out of you because everything else has gone static-white and trembling and so goddamn wet. You ride it out on instinct, hips jerking, eyes squeezed shut, Mark holding you through it, murmuring your name, pressing kisses to your shoulder, your cheek, your temple.

When you finally collapse back to the bed, your whole body boneless and blinking through the afterglow, he slowly eases his hand out of your pants, fingers slick and glistening. He stares at them a second, then looks at you.

“Can I be honest?” he says, licking his bottom lip.

You nod, still dazed. “Please don’t say something dumb. I’m too weak to handle it.”

“I’ve imagined that a lot,” he says, voice low and warm and serious. “But I never imagined it would feel this good to actually touch you again like this. Like... fuck. That was incredible.”

You want to say something witty. You want to make a joke, be cool, shrug it off like you’re not melting into his sheets. But all you manage is a breathy, “Y-you too,” and a dumb, blissed-out smile that makes him lean down and kiss it off your lips.

What you don’t know, what still hasn’t hit you, is how much he’s holding back. How careful he’s being. How strong he actually is. You don’t know that the same hands that just made you cum so hard you forgot your own name are the same hands of Invincible.

And he won’t tell you. Not yet.

Not while you’re still glowing in the aftermath, tangled in his arms, whispering against his jawline that he’s not allowed to disappear in the morning.

You're lying there with your cheek pressed against Mark's chest, still trying to come back down to Earth, and not metaphorically. Your heart’s drumming like you sprinted up ten flights of stairs, your legs feel like spaghetti, and your thighs still twitch every now and then with aftershocks. You’ve never felt that before, not from another person. Not even close.

And now?

Now there’s a low, needy tension humming in the air. But this time, it’s him.

You feel it under your fingertips, the way Mark’s chest rises just a little too fast, the tight coil in his abs, the slight tremor in the hand resting near your waist. You glance up at him, your breath still catching in your throat a little, and his eyes are already on you. Big, blue, vulnerable. His lashes are unfairly long for someone so stupidly good-looking. He blinks once, then offers you a crooked smile that’s trying way too hard to be casual.

“You okay?” you whisper, letting your hand drift across his chest, drawing nonsense lines with your fingers.

He swallows. Hard.

“I’m great,” he says, and he is, technically, but his voice is rough and low and not nearly as confident as it usually is. He’s squirming just the tiniest bit under your touch, his cock pressing up through the thin fabric of his boxers, already hard and straining.

It’s your turn to smirk.

“Yeah?” you ask, your hand sliding lower, fingertips teasing the waistband of his boxers now. “You look kinda like you’re suffering.”

That makes him exhale through his nose, almost a laugh. Almost. But he bites his lip and nods, his voice dipping into something softer, more needy.

“I mean… yeah,” he admits. “A little. But like… the good kind of suffering?”

You raise a brow. “So if I just… did nothing right now…”

He groans, half a whimper, half a plea. “That would be evil.”

You laugh quietly. Your hand dips beneath the waistband.

His breath catches instantly. You feel it, heat, stiffness, that pulse of tension that tells you just how badly he’s been holding back. You take your time, drawing his cock out slowly, letting your fingers curl around the thick, velvety length. He’s hot to the touch. Hard, but twitching, his hips subtly shifting up toward your hand without him even realizing he’s doing it.

You glance up at him again and his head’s tipped back against the pillow, his lips parted, eyes fluttering. He looks wrecked already and you’ve barely touched him.

“Jesus, Mark,” you whisper, marveling at how sensitive he is. “You’re, uh… really worked up, huh?”

He lets out a breathless laugh that breaks halfway into a moan when you stroke him once, slow and steady.

“You just made me watch you lose your mind from my fingers,” he groans. “Of course I’m worked up. You were…” He grits his teeth, his voice trailing into a hiss as you squeeze around the base and drag your hand up again. “You were fucking perfect.”

You bite your lip. That rush of heat shoots right back through you but this time, it’s paired with this weird little swell of power in your chest. He’s always been the calm one. The capable one. The guy who looks like he was born with good lighting. And now?

Now he’s melting under your touch. Whining quietly as you stroke him again, a little faster now, thumb teasing along the sensitive tip just to watch him flinch and gasp.

“F-fuck,” he pants, one hand grabbing the sheets like he’s trying not to fall apart. “You’re… really good at this.”

You snort. “I watched a lot of porn and imagined doing this never in real life. So, thanks for that.”

He laughs, even as his breath hitches again, hips twitching into your hand. “Well, your imagination deserves an award.”

You keep stroking him, slow at first, building rhythm, curling your fingers just enough at the top to make his thighs flex. His cock pulses in your grip, pre-cum slicking the head as you twist your wrist on the upstroke, and he moans loud. He doesn’t even try to muffle it.

His other hand slips up, gently curling around your wrist, not to stop you, but just to feel you. To anchor himself. His fingers tremble.

“You’re so fucking soft,” he murmurs, eyes opening to look at you. “And your hand fuck, it feels too good. I’m not gonna last.”

That makes your stomach do a somersault.

“Oh? Gonna come for me already?”

He bites his lip hard. Nods. His voice is practically a whimper now. “Please.”

The way he says it, please, makes your legs clamp together instinctively. You pump him harder, faster now, hand slick and confident and soaked in the kind of desperation he’s wearing all over his face. His abs tighten. His moans are ragged, drawn out, high in his throat like he’s trying not to cry out your name.

You lean in, whispering hot against his ear, “Come for me, Mark.”

And he does.

His whole body locks up under you, shoulders flexing, thighs trembling, cock jerking in your fist as he spills over your fingers with a strangled, guttural fuck that makes you ache. Hot ropes of cum splatter across his abs, thick and sticky, as he pants through the aftershocks, clinging to you like he’s unraveling.

You don’t stop stroking until he whines, an actual whine, and grabs your wrist gently to stop you, his body twitching from overstimulation.

His hair’s a mess. His cheeks are flushed. His lips are red and bitten and absolutely begging to be kissed.

So you do.

And he kisses you back like you’re the last thing holding him together.

You barely pull your hand back before Mark’s grabbing at you again, shaky fingers on your waist, his breath still uneven, his chest still rising and falling like he’s just run a mile. You expect him to flop back, wrecked and dazed and maybe ready to nap like a normal person, but instead, he’s crawling on top of you like a man possessed. Eyes glassy. Lips parted. Cock still hard and twitching between you like it didn’t just unload itself across his abs.

“Wait, seriously?” you breathe, not quite laughing, but stunned, looking down where his cock presses hot and slick against your lower stomach. “Mark, I just jerked you off, aren’t you supposed to be done for the day?”

“I don’t know,” he mutters, leaning down to kiss you, slow, desperate, heat pulsing through every inch of him. “I should be. I’m trying to be.”

You blink. “Trying?”

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” He nuzzles into your neck, lips brushing your pulse point, voice breaking into something raw. “The sounds you made. The way you looked when you came. The way you touched me. I’m still hard. I can’t stop.”

Your mouth goes dry.

And then he grinds down.

It’s clumsy at first, he’s just pressing against you, bare skin to skin, your pajama pants still clinging to your hips. But the slide of his cock along your pelvis, still slick from your hand, still pulsing with leftover heat, is enough to make you gasp. Your thighs twitch, your fingers dig into his back, and he groans right into your collarbone.

“Mark-” you whisper, not because you want him to stop, but because you don’t know what to do with all of this. No one’s ever wanted you like this. Not with that kind of hunger. Not with need written all over their face.

He doesn’t answer at first. He just keeps moving, hips rolling, cock grinding against the seam of your pants, his whole body shivering like the friction alone is dragging him closer to the edge again. His head dips low, lips pressing wetly to your throat, your jaw, your cheek.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he pants. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“You just came,” you whisper, half in awe. “You came, and you’re already-”

“Look at me,” he grits out, and you do.

His eyes are wild. Not unhinged, just lit with something sharp and aching and deep. His cock is trapped between your bodies, sliding along the damp, clinging fabric of your pants, every motion dragging the head right against your clit. You suck in a breath. It’s not even inside, and it feels too good.

“I’ve never wanted someone like this,” he breathes, hips jerking harder now. “You don’t know what you do to me. You act like everything’s normal, like you don’t see it, but you’re, fuck, you’re killing me.”

Your hips buck without thinking, grinding back up against him, and he moans, loud, open, filthy. He thrusts again, and again, pace stuttering, desperate. You feel how hard he is. How hot he is. Your body starts pulsing all over again, heat building low and slow in your stomach, every friction drag of his cock against your clothed cunt sending sparks through your spine.

Your fingers slide up into his hair, dragging through sweat-damp hair, pulling him down for another kiss that’s all teeth and breath and messy tongue. His body presses you into the mattress, thighs braced around yours, grinding harder now, faster, using your soft body to relieve the ache in him.

You whimper into his mouth. “Mark, fuck, if you keep doing that-”

“I want you to feel it,” he growls against your lips. “I wanna make you come again like this, just like this. Let me.”

You nod. Your hips move with his now, both of you locked into it, your hands on his back, pulling him into you, guiding him, feeling every twitch and throb of him through the soaked fabric between you. The way he moans, ragged and helpless, when your thigh clamps between his legs?

It sounds like he’s breaking.

He buries his face in your neck, breath catching, voice muffled but full of that same pleading edge. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good, don’t stop, don’t stop-”

Neither of you do.

He should go.

You both know it. The sunlight’s too sharp now, cutting in from the window across his back. His phone buzzed once, twice, maybe more. Somewhere in the pile of clothes on the floor, there’s a vibrating little rectangle full of frantic reminders and missed alarms. First period, second period, probably a text from Amber asking if he got the notes from Stats.

And you?

You’re still under him. Warm. Soft. Wide-eyed and flushed, hair mussed against his pillow, lips swollen from too many kisses, your pajama pants shoved halfway down your thighs like you got caught mid-strip and never finished. You’re biting your lip in that way that makes it look like you’re trying to pretend you’re not turned on out of your mind.

Mark grinds down again, slow, deliberate. His cock slides through the wet heat pressed between your thighs, and your hips jerk, a gasp bursting from your mouth like you weren’t ready for it even now. “Mark-” your voice catches, breathy and nervous and wrecked. “You’re gonna be late.”

His mouth curls against your neck. “I am late.”

He doesn’t stop moving. He can’t. The tension in his muscles is unbearable now, coiled up with that same aching energy from earlier, only worse. Raw. Insistent. He needs more. Needs you.

“You gonna stop me?” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

Your fingers flex against his back. You should. You should. That would be the reasonable thing to do. Let him go. Keep pretending this is something you can laugh off, something casual, like he didn’t just look at you like you hung the fucking moon.

But you’re not reasonable.

And your body’s already answering for you, hips bucking up again, thighs spreading wider, that greedy little pulse between your legs begging for more. For him.

Mark pulls back just enough to look at you, his hand cupping your jaw. His eyes search your face. His voice goes quiet, trembling at the edges. “I wanna be inside you.”

He says it like a confession. Like it matters.

“Yeah?” you whisper, heartbeat ricocheting through your ribs.

“Yeah,” he says, nodding. “I don’t wanna stop. Not now. I wanna feel all of you.”

You swallow, hard. “You know I-…”

“I know.” He kisses you, slow and aching. “I’ll go slow. I’ll take care of you. We don’t have to rush.”

You blink up at him. “You’re literally skipping class for this.”

He laughs softly, cock twitching against you, still grinding slow and messy between your folds. “I already missed class. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.”

Your stomach flips. Your nerves tense. But you nod.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Okay.”

Mark kisses you again, deeper this time. His hand slips down, tugging at your waistband until you lift your hips and let him peel your pajama pants off completely. You shiver when the cool air hits you, but he’s already there, sliding between your thighs, spreading you open with reverent, trembling fingers.

“God, you’re perfect,” he mutters, voice ragged.

Then he wraps his hand around his cock, lines himself up, and pauses, his eyes locked on yours.

“You good?” he asks. “You sure?”

You nod. “I want this. I want you.”

He pushes in slow.

Your breath hitches, sharp and high, as you stretch around him, inch by inch. It’s always more than you expect, thicker, deeper, intimate in a way that makes your whole body tense up with anticipation. But he moves gently, carefully, kissing your cheek, your jaw, whispering your name like a prayer with every inch he sinks into you.

“Shit,” he groans. “You feel so good. So fucking tight.”

Your nails dig into his back. You can barely speak. He bottoms out with a slow, careful thrust, hips pressing against yours, and the fullness makes your head spin.

You’ve never felt anything like it.

He holds still, letting you adjust, just breathing with you, forehead resting against yours. “Tell me when,” he murmurs.

You swallow, tremble, then whisper, “Now.”

He starts to move.

Each stroke is slow at first, rhythmic, measured, his hips rocking into you with that perfect drag that makes you gasp and writhe beneath him. The sensation is overwhelming. Pleasure rolls through you in waves, and the way he looks at you, like you’re his whole world, is almost too much to take.

Your legs wrap around his waist. He groans into your neck, fucking you deeper now, his pace picking up as your body adjusts, as your moans shift from startled to needy.

“God, you’re so warm,” he pants. “So wet, fuck gripping me so tight-”

You’re clinging to him now, your fingers locked behind his neck, pulling him closer with every thrust. You can feel him everywhere. The wet slap of skin, the creak of the mattress, the heat building low and fast in your core.

He thrusts harder, kissing you between moans, tongue sliding against yours. “You’re doing so good. Taking me so good. I’m not gonna last, I’m not gonna fucking last-”

You cry out when he hits just the right spot, your body arching into him, legs shaking.

“Mark! Mark, I’m gonna-!”

He grabs your thigh, thrusting harder now, desperate, hips snapping into you, chasing that last edge as you clamp down around him and come apart underneath him. Your orgasm slams through you like a tidal wave, your body locking up, mouth open in a silent scream.

Mark follows you seconds later, hips jerking, cock pulsing deep inside you as he spills himself with a broken, desperate moan. His whole body shudders on top of you, and for a second, neither of you can breathe.

Silence.

Then his forehead falls to your shoulder. You both laugh, breathless and wrecked.

“Class is so fucking overrated,” he mutters.

You don’t disagree.

You’re both a mess.

And not the sexy, movie-mess where your hair falls in soft waves and the sheets magically cover just enough skin to be tasteful. No, your legs are twitching, your inner thighs are slick, your hair’s plastered to your forehead, and you’re pretty sure one of the pillows exploded somewhere behind you. Your body’s buzzing, your brain’s static, and lying on top of you is Mark Grayson, shirtless, flushed, completely out of breath and looking like he just survived a natural disaster.

“Okay,” he pants, voice muffled against your collarbone, “so that might’ve been… a little excessive.”

You laugh, weak and stunned. “A little?”

He lifts his head and gives you this look, half proud, half guilty, his cheeks still bright red. “You’re not mad at me, though, right?”

“I can’t feel my legs,” you say.

“Okay, but like… in a good way?”

You don’t answer. You just grab his face and kiss him.

Because yeah, it was a lot. He didn’t just fuck you once and call it a day. He went down on you until you came so hard you forgot your name, then got on top of you like he was starving, thrust into you until you were clinging to him, came inside you, then stayed hard and kept going. And again. And again. Every time you whispered, “Okay, I’m done,” he kissed your neck and begged, “Just once more. I swear. Then I’ll stop.”

He never stopped.

“You’re a menace,” you murmur against his lips. “You don’t need to prove anything, you know. I already like you.”

Mark snorts and drops his forehead to your shoulder. “I’m not trying to prove anything. I just, every time I touch you, I want more. I think I’m weird. This feels illegal.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling like an idiot. Your body aches, sore and deliciously used, your thighs still sticky with him. “You’re not broken. You’re just obsessed.”

“Uh, yeah,” he says, lifting his head again and motioning vaguely to your naked body. “Have you seen you?”

You go to swat him, but he grabs your wrist, kisses your palm, and says, a little more serious, “It’s not just that. I’m not, God, I’m not good at this stuff. I mess up. I get in my head. But with you…”

His voice dips.

“Every time we do this, it feels real. Not just like sex. Like I’m with the person I’m supposed to be with.”

Your chest tightens. That little insecure voice in the back of your head tries to mutter something about how you’ve never done any of this before him. How he’s dated, had sex, lived, and you’re still playing catch-up. But he never makes you feel behind. He looks at you like you’re the most natural thing in the world. Like all his experience means nothing compared to this.

“You’re not what I expected,” you whisper.

Mark raises an eyebrow. “Uh… good unexpected or wow, she’s lowering her standards unexpected?”

You smack his shoulder. He grins. “I just mean,” you say, softer now, “I didn’t think anyone could make me feel like this. Like my body’s not weird. Like I’m… wanted.”

“Hey,” he says, more serious now. “Wanted is an understatement. I’m obsessed. I think about you when driving. Do you know how hard it is to stay on the roadwhen you’re picturing someone naked?”

You laugh. He kisses your cheek. Then your jaw. Then lower. Lower still.

“Mark-”

“I know, I know. But I swear,” he murmurs against your skin, “I’m not trying to wear you out.”

“You already did.”

“Cool. Then I’m just doing a victory lap.”

You groan, but when he nudges your legs apart again, fingers brushing over your overstimulated heat, you shiver. Because yeah, you’re sore. You’re exhausted. But with Mark, even after everything… you still want more.

And the look in his eyes?

He’s right there with you.

You’re still entwined in Mark’s arms when your phone begins vibrating on the nightstand.

At first, you don’t move. You’re curled into him, his chest warm against your face, his heartbeat steady and anchoring. His fingers are still sketching languid, absentminded shapes into the curve of your spine, and the weight of his arm over your back feels too lovely to give up just yet. The morning light slips through the slats in delicate stripes over his skin, and you think, maybe, if you stay motionless long enough, time will forgive you for skipping out on your obligations.

But the buzzing doesn’t stop.

Mark grumbles something incoherent, his grasp tightening like he’s already expecting you sliding away. You sigh, planting a short kiss to his jaw before stretching, awkwardly, to retrieve your phone. You anticipate it to be a text. Maybe a reminder from the University or a spam notice seeking to sell you anti-virus software.

It’s not.

It’s Uncle Ben.

Shit.

You swipe to answer and roll slightly to the side, cradling the phone between your ear and shoulder as Mark nuzzles into the crook of your neck like a drowsy cat that refuses to be leave from his favorite area.

“Hey,” you say, voice hoarse with sleep. “Sorry, I meant to call you last night. I… uh… slept at a friend’s place.”

Mark snorts at that, cocky as hell, and you instantly stab your elbow into his side. He yelps, gently, still smiling. Jerk.

“Mm-hmm.” Ben’s voice is suspicious, but he doesn’t press. “You said you’d be back by dinner, kid. Everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you murmur, bowing your head to hide Mark’s grin. “Everything’s fine. I just lost track of time. We were… studying.”

Ben doesn’t answer straight away. You envision the grimace he’s wearing, a mixture of frustration and that soft disappointment that usually makes your stomach twist a bit. “Well,” he replies finally, “if you’re gonna be out all night, the least you could do is shoot me a text so I don’t think you’ve been kidnapped.”

Guilt seeps in. You get up carefully, untangling yourself from Mark, who gives out a grunt of complaint, sinking back dramatically into the mattress. “Sorry,” you mumble, pulling a hand through your hair. “That’s on me. Won’t happen again.”

“You’re lucky I like your voice too much to be upset at you,” Ben says, softer now. “Anyway, I just wanted to check in, and remind you, you’ve got that internship thing today. At the lab?”

You blink. Hard.

And suddenly your heart drops into your gut.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, struggling upright. “That’s today?!”

Mark sits up, startled. “What’s wrong?”

You clap a palm to your forehead, terror surging up. “I’m late. I’m so late. We took an trip to the Midtown campus spider genetics lab this morning. I was scheduled to see my professor half an hour ago!”

Ben chuckles, though it’s tinged with pity. “Thought you might’ve forgotten. It’s okay. Just get dressed and book it. I’m proud of you, kid. You’ve got this.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, already moving around the room attempting to find your jeans. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Looking forward to it.”

You hang up and virtually toss your phone into your backpack. Mark is eyeing you, one brow arched and the blanket pooled low around his waist, naked chest on full view. He seems like he’s ready to taunt you, something sarcastic, probably, but your terrified flailing gives him pause.

“Spider lab?” he says, amused.

You shoot him a glance while tugging your shirt over your head. “Yes, spider lab. I’m a biochem major, remember? We’re investigating gene splicing in arachnids this month. It’s a major thing. There are really people that got waitlisted for this opportunity.”

Mark lifts his legs off the bed, stretching. “Wait. So you’re telling me you’re gonna be in a room full of spiders?”

“Yes,” you deadpan, shoving your feet into your shoes. “Real spiders. Radioactive spiders. Possibly genetically engineered nightmare fuel.”

“…Cool.”

You roll your eyes. “I swear to god, Mark, if I end up with extra limbs-”

“You’ll still be the hottest eight-legged nerd I’ve ever met.”

You sigh, grabbing your luggage and hitting his arm on your way out the door. “You’re the worst.”

“You love me.”

Unfortunately, he’s right. You do.

You halt at the door, heart still beating but for a different cause now. He’s standing there, all sleepy-eyed and naked, a gentle grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“Text me when you get there,” he adds, coming closer. His voice is lower now, the amusement dissolving into something more honest. “Just so I know you’re okay.”

You nod, eyes softening. “I will.”

He leans in to kiss you, quick and warm, the type that stays just a little too long for someone who’s apparently in a rush.

You depart with your heart racing and your hair still unkempt from bed. And as you hurry down the hall with your lanyard bouncing and your lab coat packed into your bag, you can’t help thinking…

If something does happen with those spiders today, at least you’ve already acquired a superhero-sized infatuation to match.

You're halfway down the street before you realize you’re wearing one of Mark’s shirts.

It’s not subtle, either. It’s the worn burgundy shirt with the little rip under the neck and a mysterious spot on the sleeve that he maintains “adds character.” It’s entirely too huge on you, submerging your frame, sleeves bunched around your elbows like they’re trying to eat your hands. It smells like his detergent. Like him. And honestly, if you weren’t already late for a very science-y, very formal lab trip, you might've turned back just to kiss him again.

But you don’t have time to be nostalgic.

You're power-walking to the train station like your future depended on it because, really, it sort of does, and mumbling under your breath the entire way. You're going over your professor’s talking points in your brain, trying to remember if you were meant to bring safety goggles (you were), and hoping to any benevolent deity out there that you don’t turn there with morning-after hair and a hickey on your neck. You should’ve looked in a mirror. You knew Mark was going be handsy last night. You knew better. And yet.

Typical.

You’re panting by the time you make it to the lab building, exactly thirty-six minutes late. You sneak in through the back entrance, squeezing behind a janitor cart and nearly tripping over your own shoelaces in the process. You can hear the group discussing already. A cacophony of overlapping voices, the occasional “Whoa!” and “Cool!” and one very distinct cry that sounds like it came from Gwen, the girl who thinks all bugs should be nuked from orbit.

You glide through the doors of the viewing room as discreetly as possible.

And quickly regret not combing your hair.

Dr. Octavious doesn’t halt his lecture when he spots you, thank god, but he does raise an eyebrow when you sneak into place at the back of the group. He’s standing in front of a giant containment glass, gesturing toward a line of tanks filled with… yes. Spiders. Big ones. Some of them blazing. A handful of them twitching abnormally, like their actions are half a second ahead of their own thinking.

“Glad you could join us,” he adds without looking, jotting something on a clipboard. “I trust your morning was… educational.”

You blink. Your face warms up. Does he know?

"Uh, yeah,” you respond hurriedly, voice quivering midway through the word. “Definitely. Learned a lot. Big supporter of education. Love it.”

A few kids peek your way. One of them, Flash, the irritating sophomore who usually asks too many questions, leans over and snickers, “You smell like boy.”

You elbow him. Hard.

Still, as the presentation proceeds and Dr. Octavious goes off about CRISPR gene-editing and venom adaptability, you feel your pulse finally starting to relax. You’re in your element again. Scientific jargon dance comfortably in your brain, and you’re genuinely understanding it, retaining stuff. Which is sort of astounding considering how severely Mark messed with your head last night.

The tour passes through a set of reinforced passageways equipped with climate-controlled viewing tanks. Spiders. Everywhere. Massive ones, little ones, neon-striped ones. Some twitch. Others sit terrifyingly motionless. Each tank has a computerized interface with data items running across the screen, things like venom production, regeneration rates, genetic recombination markers.

Your nerd brain is trying to take it all in, but your emotional brain is still fixated on the fact that you woke up with Mark’s arm slung around your waist and his voice mumbling something sweet and drowsy into your hair.

Focus.

You scoot closer to the rear of the gathering as Dr. Octavious motions to a glass tank with a big, long-legged animal poised on a lattice of synthetic webbing.

“This specimen,” he explains, “has undergone four successful protein modifications in the past six months. What you observe in the shimmer of its exoskeleton is a composite reflective compound produced from octopus chromatophores. The objective is adaptive camouflage.”

The spider moves. Just barely.

You feel your throat constrict.

It’s not that you’re terrified of spiders. You’ve dissected them, analyzed their muscular tissue under microscopes. You’re a biochem major. You live for these things. But something about this one unsettles you.

You gaze sideways at the security panel on the wall. Nothing out of the usual. Still, you can’t ignore the sense that it’s watching you.

You adjust your weight and take a step back, banging against a cabinet.

“Relax,” Gwen says behind you. “It’s not gonna leap out and snatch you. Probably.”

You give her a bland expression and say, “Thanks, really comforting.”

As the group continues on, Dr. Octavious taps his pen against a clipboard. “Keep up. We’ll be headed to the live demonstration lab next. And no one touches anything. I don’t care if you think you’re the next Marie Curie.”

You follow after the others, attempting to absorb the information, nod at the correct times, and take mental notes you’ll type down later when your hands stop trembling.

You’re thankful the tour is fairly quiet, just the gentle shuffle of lab coats, the low hum of ventilation systems, and the odd scribbling of a pen on paper.

And below it all, you still feel the ghost of Mark’s kisses at the back of your neck from this morning.

Your cheeks flush. You focus harder on the notes. You convince yourself this is OK. You’re focused. You’re a serious student.

…Even if you did stroll into a world-class spider genetics center wearing your boyfriend’s shirt, thirty minutes late, with his aroma still clinging to your skin.

Totally fine. Normal. You’ve got this. Probably.

“This is one of our more recently altered specimens,” he says, gesturing toward the main tank in the center of the room. “We’re observing the behavior of arachnids after selective protein editing. What you’re looking at here is a hybrid strain, manipulated for visual camouflage, venom production, and web complexity.”

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, notepad tucked under your arm. The spider within the tank is enormous. Not horror-movie large, but near enough to make your skin crawl. It’s practically black, but when the light strikes it, there’s this flicker of deep red beneath its surface, like something molten, fighting to come out.

You push yourself to seem interested. You are interested, you swear, you didn’t spend your whole childhood buried in scientific textbooks only to zone out on your first actual tour but your body is exhausted, your brain is still playing catch-up, and your fingers keep brushing against the hem of Mark’s shirt under your coat like a nervous tic.

You slide a bit to the side as Dr. Octavious urges everyone to divide into pairs for the log review section. Most of the students spring into formation like they’ve been rehearsing since preschool. You hover awkwardly until Gwen offers you a courteous nod and tilts her iPad toward you. You smile, grateful, awkward, and walk up next her.

“We’re supposed to compare mutation cycles and gene log timestamps,” she continues, immediately loading up the file index. “Want to take the second sample?”

You nod. “Sure. Sounds… fun.”

She’s not really listening.

While she swipes through the logs, you inch a bit closer to the enclosure, drawn in despite yourself. The spider has moved. It’s up at the top corner of the glass now, motionless and properly positioned, legs extending in that weird, methodical way that makes you feel like it’s waiting for something.

You gaze.

It glances back.

And then, barely a blink, it’s not in the tank anymore.

You frown, leaning in. No one else appears to notice. Gwen is still talking to herself, while the rest of the group is split about the room in pairs, concentrated on the data.

You straighten up slightly, a shiver prickling down your neck.

And suddenly you feel it.

A sting, sharp and abrupt, right beneath the edge of your collar.

“Ah-” You flinch, swatting at your neck instinctively. Your fingertips capture something little and quick, barely a flash of motion as whatever-it-was slips to the ground and skitters behind a neighboring cabinet before you can get a clear look.

You peek around, pulse ticking up a little.

No one noticed. Gwen still scrolling. Octavious is chatting to a pair of pupils near the front of the class. The lab hums with fluorescent light and gentle chatter and the low static of air vents like nothing occurred at all.

You rub at your neck.

It doesn’t actually hurt. More of a pinch. Like a mosquito bite. It’s already disappearing.

Still, you drop your hand and catch a little speck of blood on your fingertip.

You wipe it on your coat before anyone can see.

Probably nothing.

You rejoin Gwen, eyes glancing back to the enclosure which, you now realize, does in fact still have a spider within it. Sitting very still.

Was it always there?

You swallow, nod like everything is okay, and mutter something about switching samples.

“Yeah,” Gwen answers, barely looking up. “Hey, did you see the mutation tags on specimen E-7? The CRISPR splice isn’t holding. They’re going to have to re-sequence.”

You mutter a half-agreeable tone and try to shake the tightness out of your shoulders.

It’s fine. You’re fine. Probably just an electric shock. Or dust. Or…

Whatever. You're overthinking it. You always do.

So you push your tongue to the inside of your cheek, scrawl something that loosely resembles a note into your diary, and try your best to stay focused.

You’ve got thirty more minutes of this tour.

You’re going to appear professional.

You’re going to act normal.

You’re going to ignore the odd heat still pulsating weakly at the base of your neck.

Because clearly, everything’s fine.

The bus trip home is difficult.

Not because of the route, you’ve traveled it a hundred times before, but because every time the brakes screech or someone coughs too loud, it seems like it’s reverberating within your head. Your head is hammering in this deep, full-body way, like the bones behind your eyes are vibrating. You chalk it up to skipping breakfast and the whole sprinting-across-campus-in-a-lab-coat thing. Plus, your neck still kind of hurts where that spider bit you, or… whatever that was. You keep telling yourself it’s nothing. It has to be nothing.

You tap your fingers on your thigh, trying to focus on anything but the pressure mounting in your skull.

The spider didn’t even leave a mark. Just a small dot of dried blood you wiped away, and that was it. No rash. No swelling. No allergic reaction. You didn’t faint or puke or turn into a creature from a late ‘90s sci-fi reboot, so that’s gotta be a victory, right?

Still. You feel odd. Like your limbs don’t entirely belong to you.

The city slides past outside the window, cars, bright lights, the classic rise of red-brick buildings giving way to the more residential things as you get closer to your stop. You close your eyes and lean your forehead on the glass. The chill feels good.

Too good.

When the bus pulls to a stop, you almost miss it.

You stagger down the steps, murmuring a tired “thanks” to the driver before hitting the sidewalk. Your legs feel unsteady. Your stomach lurches unpleasantly. You grab the straps of your backpack and draw in a breath of chilly evening air, hoping it helps.

It doesn’t.

By the time you reach the front door, you're sweating.

Uncle Ben unlocks it before you can even knock. “There you are,” he says, standing aside to let you enter. “Was starting to think you ditched me again for your mystery friend.”

You manage a feeble grin. “No ditching. Just… long day.”

He squints at you, his countenance softening. “You alright, kiddo?”

“Yeah.” It comes out too fast. You try again, quietly. “Just tired.”

You slip off your shoes and hang your bag by the entrance. Your coat gets tossed over the railing as you walk for the stairs. You can feel his gaze on your back the whole way up.

“Dinner’ll be ready in an hour,” he calls. “You want me to wake you if you sleep?”

“I’ll set an alarm,” you murmur, one hand holding the banister like the wood is the only thing keeping you standing.

You don’t make it to the alarm.

The second you enter into your room, something in your body gives out.

You manage to close the door behind you. That’s it.

You rip off Mark’s shirt in sluggish, awkward strokes and hurl it onto the side of the bed, too sweaty and nauseated to care where it goes. Every muscle in your body feels like you just got smashed by a city bus. You wobble toward the bed, clutch the mattress, and drop yourself down like your limbs are made of wet paper.

You don’t even change out of your clothes. You just cuddle up on top of the blanket and put your cheek to the soft pillow, eyes clamping tight as your head spins.

It’s not simply weariness.

It’s wrong.

Your skin is scorching, yet you're shivering too. Your fingertips feel like they’re buzzing. You hold them against your chest, attempting to anchor yourself, but it simply makes you feel more disoriented.

Your breath starts coming in shallow gasps. You can’t tell if it’s worry or fever or something else completely. The room tilts. You strain your eyelids tighter.

You think about yelling out for Ben.

You don’t.

You don’t want to worry him. You don’t want to explain that you might’ve gotten bitten by something in a government-funded gene lab and are now having the worst flu symptoms of your life.

You’ll just rest.

It’s probably just the day catching up with you. You’ve pushed yourself too hard before. Finals week had you running on energy drinks and vending machine trail mix, and you got through that. You’ll get through this.

Just a nap.

Just a little rest.

The last thing you detect before everything slips away is the quiet hum in your ears becoming louder, like static, or maybe your heartbeat. It fills your whole mind, and then

Black.

[slutzforbueckers]

do it again— p.b x fem!reader

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

warnings: smut

synopsis: paige making you squirt for the first time after taking you back to her hotel room from her afterparty.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

“look at you. she takes me s’good, huh?” paige murmured into your ear, her lips grazed the shell of your ear as she expertly rolled her hips forward, pressing the thick strap deeper into your cunt. she had you on your hands and knees, makeup ruined and mascara running down your cheeks from tears.

paige wrapped her hand around your throat and applied the slightest pressure, causing a choked moan to fall from your lips. the alcohol in your system made everything feel more intense—you could feel every slow drag against your walls, her breath tickling your skin as she kissed your neck, the beads of sweat forming on your skin—you could feel everything.

“paige,” her name drawled out into a low moan, your fingers fisting the sheet as your thighs started to quiver.

“you proud of me, ma?” she rasps, slowing her thrust down to a teasing pace. the strap drags deliciously inside you, thick and unrelenting, and paige drags her lips over her shoulder, her breath hot as she spoke. your answer’s lost in a moan when she snaps her hips forward, harder this time. she groans low, hands tightening on your waist as she sets a bruising rhythm, her name spilling from your lips between gasps. “been thinking about this all night, you have no idea.”

“oh my god,” you mewled, your knees were starting to feel weak and you weren’t sure how much longer you could hold yourself up. paige made a sound, low and deep from her chest, and sat up straight. she placed her hand over your shoulder and pushed you down so your face was flush against the pillows, then running it down your back to deepen your arch.

there was a heat building in your core that you hadn’t felt before, it was consuming and blinding all at once. with how loud your moans were you felt bad for the people in the rooms surrounding yours, you were sure they knew her name by now.

your body jerked forward as the pressure snapped—sharp and sudden—and your vision went white. a scream tore from your throat, back arched to a breaking point, thighs shaking uncontrollably as wetness poured from you, soaking the sheets beneath. it was instinctual, explosive, like your body couldn’t hold back a second longer, like it had to give in to her.

paige froze as your cunt pushed her out with the force. you collapsed flat onto your stomach, chest heaving, the aftermath leaving you twitching and boneless. you whimpered when she quickly flipped your over but when you looked up—through hazy lashes and tear-rimmed eyes—paige was staring at you with this stunned, wide-eyed look, lips parted, breath hitched. her strap was glistening, dripping with your wetness.

“you—” she breathed, hands still on your waist. “you just—fuck. that was so hot.”

you let out a weak whimper, already overwhelmed, but paige was moving before you could stop her. she kissed down your body until she was laid between your legs. “paige,” you whined, squirming as she spread your trembling thighs. “baby, I can’t—i can’t—”

“yes you can,” she said, voice low and almost reverent as she pressed a kiss to your overstimulated cunt. “please, let me. i need to see it again.”

“you’re insane,” you panted, but you didn’t stop her.

your body was buzzing, your legs barely responding, but paige didn’t give you a choice—she dragged her tongue through the mess between your thighs and moaned like she was tasting something addictive. her arms wrapped under your thighs to keep you open, locked down, helpless to the slow, sinful strokes of her tongue.

she was gentler this time, at first, just easing you back into it, but the moment she felt your hips twitch up, the moment your breath caught again, she locked eyes with you and flattened her tongue right against your clit. you cried out, a raw, broken sound. “paige—paige, oh my god—”

“c’mon, baby,” she whispered against you, eyes wild, her voice shaking with something between awe and hunger. “do it again for me. you can.”

you shook your head, your hands clawing at the sheets. her tongue moved faster, more focused, and her fingers slipped into you with practiced ease—hooking up, pressing into that same spot that made you sob into the pillow moments before. the pressure built fast. too fast. it felt impossible, but your body was already curling in on itself, ready to break again.

“that’s it, that’s it,” paige said, eyes locked on your face, reading every twitch, every moan, like it was the most important thing in the world. “give it to me, baby. show me.”

your hands flew to her hair as your orgasm hit like a wave crashing down—your thighs trembling, back lifting, the sound that left you not even human anymore. and then, again, your body let go. you squirted a second time, even harder than the first, and paige moaned into it, her tongue lapping at every gush.

you collapsed completely, shaking, twitching, your chest heaving with short, frantic breaths. paige finally pulled back, mouth and chin slick, eyes still wide with that same reverent hunger. she crawled up your body, kissed your cheek, your jaw, your temple—still panting herself.

“you’re…” she laughed, breathless, in disbelief. “you’re perfect. that was the hottest fucking thing i’ve ever seen in my life.”

you just whimpered, your voice gone. paige was quick to pull the harness off and lay with you. she pulled you into her arms and placed her hand under your chin, lifting your head so she could press her lips to yours. “i love you,” she whispered, voice soft now, calming. “so much.”

you barely managed a hum and laid your head on her chest, feeling her heartbeat slow to a steady rhythm.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

[mintyys-blog]

can u write a submissive!invincible x fem!sidekick reader smut fic please?? :3

(btw ur literally SO talented and i love all ur works so so much🩷🩷)

PRETTY PLEASE? | mark grayson x reader

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST | WARNINGS: smut, sub mark, soft dom! reader, zero plot, oral sex (male receiving)

The two of you barely made it through the door before Mark was on you.

The mission had been simple—stop a group of low-level villains robbing a tech facility. Easy. Routine. But watching you fight always did something to him. The way you moved, confident and in control, had Mark biting his lip behind his visor the entire time.

Now, back at your apartment, he’s sitting on the edge of your bed still in half his suit, breathing a little too fast, eyes locked on you like you’re the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground. His gloves are off. His boots, too. You’re standing between his knees, one hand cupping his jaw, the other tracing lazy lines along the edge of his chest where the fabric clings to his skin.

“You’ve been fidgeting ever since we left the fight,” you murmur, eyes soft but knowing. “Something got you worked up, baby?”

Mark nods, too quick. His voice is already needy. “Yeah… just—fuck, the way you looked out there—can we—can I please—?”

Your thumb grazes his bottom lip.

“You want something, you ask nicely,” you say, tilting your head. “Use your words.”

Mark lets out a breathy whimper, already melting under your touch. “Please. I need you to touch me. I’ve been hard since we got back. I can’t stop thinking about you—please, Y/N.”

You smile, brushing your lips over his, but not giving him what he wants just yet.

“That’s better,” you whisper, pressing your knee between his thighs. “But you’ll be good for me, right? No rushing. No finishing until I say so.”

Mark’s eyes flutter, his body tense with need. “Yes. I’ll be good. I promise.”

You hum, satisfied. “Good boy.”

Your hand trails lower, teasing the hem of his suit where it hugs his hips. Mark’s already squirming under you, lips parted in anticipation, a little gasp escaping when you tug at the fabric just enough to make him twitch.

“Look at you,” you murmur, voice low, fingers grazing his bare skin as you slowly peel the suit down, revealing more of him inch by inch. “You were so brave today, baby. So strong. But now you get to relax. You don’t have to be a hero here.”

He exhales hard, eyes fluttering shut like your words alone take the weight off his shoulders.

You sink to your knees between his legs, hands resting on his thighs. He’s already hard, his cock twitching as it springs free, flushed and leaking, like he’s been waiting for this all day.

And maybe he has.

“Y/N…” he whispers, hips already trying to shift forward. “Please…”

You press your palm flat to his lower stomach, holding him in place.

“Shhh. I told you—you don’t get to come until I say so.”

Mark’s breath hitches, and he nods obediently. “Okay. Okay, I’ll wait. I promise.”

You reward him with a soft kiss to his inner thigh, then lick a slow, teasing stripe up the length of his cock. He shudders, a soft whine slipping out as you wrap your lips around the tip, suckling gently, not nearly enough to give him release.

“You’re so sensitive already,” you murmur when you pull back, voice dripping with sweetness. “Are you really this desperate for me?”

“Yes,” he gasps. “I—fuck, I need you. Please—do whatever you want, just… don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

You chuckle softly, your hand stroking him slow, just enough to keep him teetering.

“Oh, I’m not stopping,” you say, licking your lips as you lean back in. “But I’m not letting you come either—not yet. Not until you’re begging for it.”

You wrap your lips around him again, bobbing your head in slow, torturous rhythm. Your hand pumps the base while your tongue teases the sensitive underside, and Mark is panting, hips twitching, fingers digging into the sheets to keep from bucking.

Every time he gets close—every time you feel that twitch, hear that gasp—you pull back.

And every time, he looks down at you with wide, pleading eyes, so overwhelmed and desperate, voice cracking as he begs:

“Please, Y/N—I’m so close—I need to—please let me come—please, I’ll do anything—”

You crawl up his body, straddling his lap, grinding against his cock without letting him slip inside.

“Anything?” you whisper against his ear, biting gently at the lobe.

He nods frantically. “Anything. Just—fuck—please, I’ve been good. I’ve been so good for you—”

You smile, finally guiding him to your entrance, letting just the tip slide in, then stopping again.

Mark nearly sobs.

“You want it that bad, baby?” you tease, voice soft but firm. “Then say it.”

“I want you to use me,” he chokes out, eyes glassy with need. “Please. I want to make you feel good. I want to come for you. Please, Y/N—please let me come.”

You sink down fully with a soft sigh, his name spilling from your lips as you feel him stretch you open.

He cries out, overwhelmed by the sudden heat, the closeness, the intimacy.

And then you lean down, lips brushing his as you whisper:

“Then come for me, baby.”

And he does—loud, breathless, hands clinging to your waist as his entire body trembles, voice breaking as he moans your name like a prayer.

You don’t stop moving, don’t stop praising him, even as his body jerks from overstimulation, your hips rolling slow and deep.

“You did so good for me,” you whisper, kissing his jaw. “Such a good boy.”

His breath is shaky, skin flushed, chest rising and falling in quick, shallow waves beneath you. You stay like that for a moment—connected, pressed so close his heart is beating against yours, skin damp with sweat.

Mark’s arms are tight around your waist, clinging like if he lets go, he’ll fall apart again.

“You okay?” you murmur, fingers carding through his hair, gentle, grounding.

He nods, face buried in your neck, voice muffled. “Yeah. Just… holy shit.”

You smile, kissing the side of his head.

“Did so good for me,” you whisper, still rocking your hips just slightly, keeping him inside, letting him ride the aftershocks. “You’re always so sweet when you beg. You know that?”

Mark lets out a weak, breathy laugh, face flushing deeper.

“You make it hard not to,” he mumbles. “You’re just… god, you’re so—”

He groans softly when you squeeze your walls around him one last time before slowly easing off, and he whines at the loss of contact.

You hush him, gently coaxing him to lay back, grabbing a warm towel from the nightstand drawer to clean him up. He’s boneless, pliant, letting you handle him completely—eyes heavy, mouth slack, body twitching every now and then from the lingering overstimulation.

Once he’s cleaned and tucked under the blankets, you slip into bed beside him. He immediately pulls you close, tangling your legs with his, burying his face against your chest.

“You’re seriously gonna kill me one of these days,” he murmurs into your skin. “Death by sex. Marked on my tombstone.”

You chuckle, running your fingers through his hair again. “Not the worst way to go.”

He hums, barely awake, but still needy in the way he clutches you.

“You made me feel so good,” he mumbles, voice soft and sincere. “You always do.”

You press a kiss to his temple, your voice just as gentle. “That’s the idea, baby. You’re mine—I take care of what’s mine.”

A sleepy little smile curves his lips.

“I like being yours.”

You pull the blanket up around both of you, letting the warmth and quiet settle in.

“Good,” you whisper. “Because I’m not letting you go.”

It’s been maybe an hour since you wrecked him.

Mark dozed off for a little while—head on your chest, arms around your waist, snoring softly. You didn’t move. Just stroked his back, kissed his forehead, let him be your good boy in peace.

But now?

He’s awake again.

Barely.

Still sleepy, eyes half-lidded, body loose and pliant—but you can feel it. The way his cock twitches against your thigh when you shift. The way he’s breathing just a little harder now. The way he instinctively rolls his hips when you slide your hand down over his stomach.

“You’re hard again,” you murmur, voice low and warm in his ear. “Already?”

Mark whimpers, flushing, too embarrassed to look at you but too needy to hide it.

“Can’t help it,” he mumbles. “You’re so close. You feel so good. I—I want it again.”

You shift over him, straddling his waist slowly, rolling your hips against him—bare, teasing, not quite letting him slip inside.

He gasps, thighs twitching under you.

“You’re still sensitive, aren’t you?” you whisper, dragging your nails lightly across his chest. “I can feel you shaking.”

Mark nods helplessly. “I am. But I still want it. Want you.”

“Then be a good boy,” you say softly, “and take it.”

You line him up and sink down again—slow, torturously slow, until he’s fully inside and you’re seated in his lap. He whimpers, hands flying to your hips as his head tilts back against the pillow.

“Oh fuck—” he gasps, already overwhelmed. “It’s so much—I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” you whisper, kissing his jaw, then nipping his ear. “You’re doing so good for me. Just breathe.”

You start moving—slow, deep rolls of your hips that make him tremble beneath you, whining, begging under his breath. He’s clinging to you now, nails digging into your thighs, tears prickling the corners of his eyes from how intense it feels.

Every time your hips grind down just right, he cries out, headboard rattling from how hard he’s gripping the sheets.

“Please—please slow down—I’m gonna—”

“No, baby,” you purr, picking up the pace. “You’re gonna come when I say. Not a second before.”

He sobs—literally sobs—from the overstimulation, but doesn’t disobey. Doesn’t even try. Just takes everything you give him, whispering broken pleas against your chest.

And when you finally lean in, kiss his lips soft and sweet, and whisper “Now”— Mark shatters.

He comes with a wrecked, desperate cry, body arching off the bed, arms around you like he needs to anchor himself to survive it. You don’t stop moving until he’s twitching and whimpering, until he’s too spent to speak, too sensitive to move. You kiss his sweat-damp forehead, brushing his hair back from his face, voice soft as ever.

“You’re so perfect like this,” you whisper. “My sweet, obedient boy.” Mark nods weakly, utterly ruined. And totally satisfied.

The next morning:

The sun filters through your bedroom curtains in soft streaks of gold, the sheets are tangled from the night before, and Mark’s arms are around you—warm, lazy, and clingy. You stretch with a soft sigh, muscles sore in all the right ways.

And then you feel it.

A slow, purposeful grind of his hips against your ass. His cock, already half-hard, rubbing against your skin.

You smirk. “Someone’s up early.”

“I’m trying to be,” he mumbles against your shoulder, voice still raspy with sleep. “Thought maybe I’d return the favor…”

You raise an eyebrow as he nuzzles into your neck, his hands slipping over your stomach, then lower—slow, deliberate.

“Oh?” you tease. “You think you’re gonna take charge now?”

“I could,” he says, with that cocky little grin he tries to wear when he’s feeling bold. “You’ve been in control since last night. Figured I could flip the script.”

You let him roll you onto your back, let him straddle your hips. His hands skim down your sides, his lips press softly to your throat. He starts to move lower, clearly trying to work up to taking the lead.

And it’s adorable.

But the moment his mouth is between your thighs—just as he’s about to make a move—you tangle your fingers in his hair, tug just hard enough to make his eyes flick up to yours.

“Be honest, baby,” you murmur, tilting your head. “You want to be in charge… or do you just want me to tell you how good you’re doing again?” He freezes. Blushes. Hard.

“I—”

Your hand tightens slightly in his hair. His breath catches.

“Because I think you like it better when you’re under me,” you say, voice smooth and sweet. “When you don’t have to think. Just follow instructions. Just feel.”

Mark shudders. And that little dominance fantasy? It evaporates. He crawls back up the bed, lips already parted, pupils blown wide, and lays on his back without being told.

“Okay,” he whispers. “Yeah. I… I want you to do it again.”

You smile, climbing over him slowly, kissing down his chest as he trembles. “That’s what I thought.”

You take your time—reminding him exactly why he’s addicted to being yours, and why he’ll never really be able to flip the script. Not when he lives for your praise. Not when he aches to be used. And not when every breathless moan he lets out sounds like your name in prayer.

Mark’s already panting by the time you settle between his thighs.

He’s spread out on the bed, naked, flushed, still trying to recover from last night but too far gone to stop you. His cock is hard again—already twitching with every teasing brush of your fingers, leaking in anticipation.

“Look at you,” you murmur, your hands gently gliding over his hips. “Already so hard for me again. You really can’t get enough, can you?”

His head shakes, breath catching. “I—I really can’t. You make me feel so…”

You kiss just above the base of his cock, slowly, deliberately. “So what?”

Mark shivers. “So good. Like I belong to you.”

You hum in satisfaction. “That’s because you do.”

You wrap a hand around his shaft and give him one slow stroke. He moans—soft, needy—and his hips twitch.

You kiss the tip, then drag your tongue down the underside in a lazy stripe, listening to the broken little whimper he gives you in return.

“You’re already close, aren’t you?” you tease. “That fast?”

He covers his face with one hand, embarrassed. “I—I can’t help it. You’re driving me crazy.”

You smile, sliding your mouth around him, slowly taking him in until the head hits the back of your throat. His hand flies to your hair, fingers gripping tight—not to guide you, just to hold on.

You bob your head slowly, keeping the rhythm maddeningly gentle. Your tongue swirls around the tip every time you pull back, and your free hand strokes the rest of him in sync. It’s too much and not enough all at once.

Mark’s thighs tremble under your hands. His moans are soft, choked, helpless.

“Y/N… fuck, I’m gonna—I’m gonna come if you keep—”

You pull off with a pop, licking your lips as you look up at him. “Not yet.”

He whines. Actually whines, hips lifting off the bed before you push him back down. “Stay still,” you command gently, your voice all honey and heat. “Be good for me.”

“I am,” he pants, eyes glossy. “I’m trying. Please—please don’t stop—”

You go back down on him, this time a little deeper, a little faster. Your hand strokes the base while your mouth works the rest, and you hum around him just to watch him tremble.

The praise spills out of you as naturally as your breath: “You’re doing so good, baby.” And “You taste so sweet like this.”

“Such a perfect cock—so sensitive for me.” And Mark? He’s losing it.

Fingers twisting in the sheets, chest heaving, his voice ragged as he begs: “Please, Y/N—please, I need it, I need to come—can I? Please—please—”

You pull off just long enough to whisper, soft and sweet:

“Come for me, baby.”

And he does—with a desperate, broken cry, hips jerking despite himself, his whole body tensing like you just pulled the soul out of him with your mouth. You stroke him gently through it, mouth back on him to catch every last drop, until he’s gasping and twitching from overstimulation.

When he finally slumps back against the mattress, boneless and dazed, you crawl up and kiss his jaw, licking one last bit of him off your lips.

“Still think you’re in charge?” you whisper teasingly.

Mark can’t even speak. He just nods, eyes wide, clinging to you like he’s drowning in the afterglow. You chuckle and pull the blanket over you both again. “Didn’t think so.”

[iloveacaibowls111]

𝜗𝜚 ‧₊˚ ⊹

18+ MDNI, light smut

dilf!toji leans in the doorway, towel around his neck, fresh out the shower and completely forgetting whatever the hell he came in here for the second he sees you kneeling on the rug, brushing out megumi's messy little bedhead with this patience he swears only you’re capable of. 

“hold still, baby,” you say, soft and low, one hand steady until his chin, the other working the brush through the knots. 

megumi mumbles something under his breath. you laugh, kiss the top of his head, and keep brushing. 

and toji? toji is going feral watching you look after megrim with such care and love. it makes him want to marry you all over again and knock you up over and over again. 

the robe you’re wearing slips a little as you lean forward - allowing a peek of you thigh, the curve of your breast. you don’t even notice.

but toji does. 

oh, he fucking does.

suddenly, he is overwhelmed with an urge to give you more. more mornings like this. more little heads to brush. more of himself, permanently. 

you tuck megumi’s hair behind his ear and send him off to the kitchen with a “go pick out your cereal, i’ll be right there in a minute.”

the second he’s gone, you stand to follow - but don’t even make it a step before tori’s on you. 

his hand firmly grips your hips, pressing your chest tightly against his solid front. he leans down so his lips lightly grazes your neck, voice already rough.

“you tryin’ to kill me, doll?”

you blink at him, caught off guard. “what?”

he huffs a laugh against your skin, low and hot. 

“you. bein’ all soft with him like that. wearin’ this.” his hands slips under your robe, fingers brushing the inside of your thigh.

“you know what that does to me?”

“i was just brushing his hair, toji.” you laugh. you could feel him press up against you, hot and bothered.

“nah,” he mutters, leaving wet kisses along your jaw. “you were bein’ a fuckin’ dream. my wife. takin’ care of our boy like you were made for it.”

before you can say anything, he’s lifting you - big hands gripping the backs of your thighs, robe falling open as he walks you toward the bed. 

“you already gave me one perfect kid,” he says, setting you down and dragging his palm over your stomach like he’s picturing it full again. “you keep actin’ like that, i’m puttin’ another one in you.”

you let out a tiny whimper as toji slowly begins to grind onto you. the hard outline of his cock through his sweatpants pushing just the perfect amount of pressure onto you. his hands are now shamelessly groping your breasts while he marks up your neck.

“toji - megumi’s in the kitchen -“

“he’s got cereal. he’ll be fine. 

and right on cue:

“mom! dad! where’s the milk?! i’m hungry!”

toji groans against your skin, his hips flush against yours, jaw clenched like it physically pains him to stop.

he presses a soft kiss against your temple, a contrast to his rough voice at your ear:

“don’t move a fuckin’ inch. soon as he’s fed, i’m finishing what i started.” 

[weaselle]

Feeling drained and having good-time chemical withdrawl is a valid possibility, but. There IS another thing that might be happening.

It took me working with dogs before i started to see it easily in the people around me (and myself)

Dogs can very easily go from happy/excited to furious anger or snappy fear in a split second (which is why when i manage a group of dogs there is no over-the-top energetic playing or high-level excitement allowed)

We think of emotions like Furious and Elated as being on opposite ends of a single line. But actually, it's more like Furious and Mildly Irritated are on opposite sides of a line, and other emotional states like Elated and Barely Content are on opposite sides their own line, and the lines are placed so that Furious and Elated are right next to each other -- it's all about how much energy is being poured through the lines, Furious and Elated both take a lot of, like, emotional commitment, and when you are dumping that much energy into one of them, it's easy for you to jump the track to one of the other lines

This is why sometimes when you are at your angriest or most sad, suddenly something will start you laughing hilariously. It's why when you are having the most fun, sometimes something small like an offhand comment can flip you all the way to deeply disappointed and super sad.

So it could be the opposite of your battery being drained. If you are having a great time, full of energy, and the great time ends, you still have all that energy and the only place it has to go is into the disappointment. What should be a small drop has turned into a fall from a great height. I think the difference in feel between this and the energy drain is the speed and the association of tiredness. Do you get home and sort of slowly start to feel bad and empty, or do you get home and suddenly it's time for Bad Feelings to get a boost of energy?

Either way, if you get used to the pattern, your brain will start to lean into that process. You expect to feel that way, and so you will be pushed down the paths that have been worn into your neural landscape.

It may help to plan a thing to look forward to for after these events. Sort of your own aftercare. So, like, "after this party i'm going to sit in bed with a cup of hot cocoa and read another chapter in this book i'm really into" or whatever. Something to interrupt the expectation of disappointment, so you can feel like: well, this good thing is ending, but now i get to do this other good thing! as a step down from your good times into other, less energetic but still positive experiences.

googling shit like "why do i feel bad after hanging out with my friends" and all of the answers are either "you need better friends" (i don't; my friends are wonderful) or "your social battery is drained, you need to rest and regain your energy levels" (i don't; i've got tons of energy, it's just manifesting as over-the-top neurotic mania). why is this even happening. it's like some stupid toll i have to pay as a punishment for enjoying myself too much

[smileysuh]

fresco - TEASER

🌙 starring. Lee Donghyuck x afab!Reader 

🔮 preview. When you first met Hyuck in the elevator, you’d thought he was nothing more than some fuckboy line chef. But now, you see a deeper side of him. He’s thoughtful and caring, a little chaotic in the best way, but willing to calm down and match your pace. And to top it all off, he’s hot as fuck.

tw/cw. protected sex (for probably the first time ever), gentle/slow build-up sex, oral/pussy eating, slight praise, slight dirty talk, reader hasn’t been fucked in a while, low-key wholesome sex with a reformed fuckboy because you’re now cat co-parents, etc… I pet names: (hers) gorgeous.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 6.8k 

🍭 aus. Restaurant au, neighbors to lovers, accidental fur baby co-parents, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. Fresco, meaning a painting done rapidly in watercolor on wet plaster on a wall or ceiling, so that the colors penetrate the plaster and become fixed as it dries. - Alternative; Alfresco, meaning a meal eaten outside “in the fresh air” - fresco is Italian for “fresh,” and the culinary usage is relatively common in English. this fic is in conjunction with Real Talk and Comfort Cuisine.

“Shut up and kiss me.”

Hyuck can only laugh as he leans forward, cupping your cheek and bringing his lips to your own.

You grab at his shoulders, trying to shift closer- but Fresco is asleep between the two of you, so there’s only so much room to move.

The kiss turns heated, with Hyuck’s tongue swiping your bottom lip, and you can’t help the moan that escapes you.

He feels so good, and the way his hand cups your cheek- there’s something dominant about it. Hyuck’s clearly confident, and from the way he kisses, he has every right to be.

You’re drunk from just a bit of kissing, and you can only imagine what full-on sex with this man would be like-

A loud meow makes you jump, and Hyuck lets go of you with a sigh. Both of you look down at Fresco, who’s now awake, and as rambunctious as ever as he begins to make softies on Hyuck’s thigh.

“Cock block,” Hyuck groans, but he begins to pet the small kitten all the same.

You laugh a little, releasing a sigh as you try to calm your racing heart. Maybe you’d needed an interruption because you were about ten seconds from ripping Hyuck’s clothes off, and maybe, just maybe, you should give things with him just a little more time.

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[femsolid]

I was watching a youtube video of a trial in the US: a young man who killed his father because he'd been raping him ever since he was 6. He got sentenced to life in prison because either the jury didn't believe him or they didn't believe he'd acted in self defence, whatever. I watched him cry as he was being questioned by the lawyers about what he'd endured and I genuinely felt bad for him. I believed him and was moved by his pain. I checked the comments and everybody was being supportive and saying he should be freed, but there were also dozens of comments with thousands of upvotes saying: "if he'd been a girl he would be free right now", "people never believe men", "this is why men don't come forward" and "if he was a girl it would be a whole different story." Men and women, repeating the same thing over and over again, like some rehearsed performance: women are believed more than men and they get a free pass for murder. Basically, that the justice system favours women and hastily punishes those accused of rape. Which is a blatant lie. So why do people believe it? Why do they feel the need to say it every time a man is abused? My empathy for the guy slowly vanished as I remembered that a man would never feel the same way about a woman and that men literally use other men's pain to oppress women further. There's an underlying message with it too: that men rape women so frequently that everyone believes it, which is a privilege. Female privilege. Women and girls are privileged for being assaulted so frequently that it can't be denied. And yet it is.

I looked at the corner of my youtube screen and saw the next recommended video: "Camille Vasquez's Cross of Amber Heard." In the video, Amber Heard cries much like the man I was watching just before, about being raped. The top comments all call her a liar, an evil psychopath, a bad actress and a woman who tried to ruin a man's life with false rape accusations. They're all laughing at her. You really can't make this shit up.

[littlesoulshine]

you loved the gasp dean gave when he saw the receipt—lace, silk, and more ridiculous things he can’t pronounce. the scratch off he'd grumbled about at the gas station had hit three hundred big ones, which made you look at him with those eyes, wide and twinkling like you didn’t know exactly how to wrap him around your finger. now here you were in the cheap motel, panties like floss and a babydoll dress clinging to your tits.

"alright, bunny," dean drawled from the rickety cushioned chair in the corner, his voice low with a cocky smirk, painted on his face. “show and tell....turn around slow, yeah?”

you bite your lip, swaying just enough to make the hem flutter up your thighs. you know he’s watching the shift of the soft fabric across your ass.

sam lays on the bed, arms folded behind his head and looong legs spread. "you gonna model all of it, bunny? or just tease us like that all night?"

"mmm, well depends if you boys behave," you murmur, stepping into the fluorescent light. this set....powder pink, with a lace so sheer it might as well be painted on. your nipples are hard, visible through the cups and your thighs glisten from lotion and oil, dean so happily rubbed into your skin after your shower.

you twirl, slow, hands in your hair, and when your back’s to them you hear dean’s chair creak forward.

“bend over,” dean says (which was definitely not a question).

you glance back over your shoulder, feigning innocence, but your cunt clenches just hearing the shift in his tone, command. you bend slow and exaggerated with your hands on your knees, ass high, the lace wedging between your cheeks.

there's a low whistle behind you. then, sam’s voice, groans “you’re lucky i’m not closer, bunny....that’s a dangerous view.”

you arch a little more because you want them to see the little bow on the back of your cheeksters, the strip of fabric that hides almost nothing. you hear dean's breath hitch. "fuckin' hell," he mutters. "that ass should be illegal."

after a couple minutes, you feel it—someone's hands, large and warm. dean's palms smoothing over your hips, thumbs dipping dangerously low on your body. “you wear this shit for us?” he growls, low and rough against your ear. “or just cause you like makin’ us hard and not gettin’ dicked down?”

sam stands behind you now, silent till you feel his hands on your shoulders, slowly massaging them. “c’mon, bunny,” he hums. “you love when we look at you like this. makes you wet, doesn’t it?”

you moan, a small thing sound,very involuntary.

sam chuckles, low. “uh huh....knew it.”

you’re sandwiched now. dean’s fingers tugging the lace down, super slowly teasing you with the friction. while sam, pressing soft kisses to the back of your neck while his hands smooth down your sides, gripping, mapping every curve and dip.

“this one’s cute,” dean mutters, snapping the waistband and making you jump. “but i wanna see the black one next....the crotchless one.”

sam makes a noise, dark and approving. “that the one with the garters?”

“fuck yeah, sammy.”

your knees wobble. but you like it. the attention, the heat, the way they look at you like you’re dessert.

"better change fast, bunny," dean says, smacking your ass once, very rough. “or we’ll help you outta it.”

sam adds, "and we won’t be gentle."

you straighten, cheeks flushed, thighs slick, and heartbeat in your cunt.

“okay,” you whisper, turning with a smile so saccharine it could kill. “but you’re not allowed to touch...just watch.”

both of them groan. but they sit obedinantly watching as you changed into the next set—this one even worse. black mesh, no modesty, and lace stockings that cling to your thighs.

"bend again," they both say, and you obey, because you like when they look at you like that. because you’re their bunny.

tags: @soldiersgirl @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis @whisperingdaze @cherrygirlfriend @bittersweetfig @sunsbaby @ambiguous-avery @bocadelinfierno @sunnyteume @bejeweledinterludes @k-slla @lunaleah @pieandflannel @zepskies @liiiilsss