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buckiverse · 3 months ago

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Lessons

☆--- paring: zayne x reader

☆--- summary: Your childhood best friend, Zayne, had always been there for you, loyal, supportive, and understanding. So, when you realized you had a crush on Caleb, you turned to him for help. Taking it upon himself to be your guide, Zayne offered to teach you a few lessons in love. But as the lessons progress, you start to wonder... was Caleb really the one you wanted all along?

☆--- word count: 9.9k

☆--- warnings: mdni, oral sex, fingering, missionary, zayne is literally so jealous, caleb is kinda the boy best friend you tell your boyfriend not to worry about ngl, reader is inexperienced, soft!dom zayne, size kink if you squint, zayne knows you so fucking well it's sickening (he's just so sweet), no protection is used (wrap it before you tap it)

☆--- a/n: loosely based on nightly rendezvous (yes im doing a childhood best friend au for everyone... i fear im obsessed)

↳ xavier | sylus | caleb | rafayel

Some part of you felt like it was a bad idea—you knew better. Even after all these years, it felt surreal that Caleb was one of your closest friends. In your small town, there weren’t many people to bond with. The tight-knit community had shrunk over time, and most people you knew were just memories now. But you’d never forget the two boys who lived next door. One was more charming, the other more reserved, but both were just as kind and reliable.

Years later, that sense of community felt like a distant dream. It was why you jumped at the chance to move closer to Caleb and Zayne after they relocated to the city. The passing of your grandmother had made staying in the countryside unbearable. But as you stood ankle-deep in snow, staring at the truck piled high with your belongings, you wondered if you were in over your head.

The cold wind bit through your gloves as you trudged inside the apartment building. Your eyes darted nervously to the heavy furniture that needed to be moved. You shifted your weight, glancing at the door every few seconds. If any of the boys decided not to show up, you would be screwed.

“Y/N!” Caleb’s voice rang out, and your head snapped up. Relief surged through you as you saw him approaching. Without thinking, you rushed into his arms, your cheeks burning as his warm embrace enveloped you.

“It’s good to see you too,” he teased, his playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips. His hands rested lightly on your back as he pulled away, studying your face. “How long were you standing out there?”

“Not long,” you lied with an awkward laugh. “I just—got lost in thought.”

How he looked at you made it hard to breathe, as if he still saw the same girl from all those years ago. The creak of the lobby door saved you from spiraling further.

Zayne strode in, his dark coat dusted with snowflakes. His sharp gaze flicked from you to Caleb’s hands, still resting on your waist. For a moment, his jaw tightened, but he quickly smoothed his expression.

“You’re late,” Caleb called out, smirking.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” Zayne replied, his tone dry as his eyes settled on you. “I almost thought you forgot about me.”

“Never,” you said with a grin, stepping forward to hug him. His arms wrapped around you briefly, his touch warm but hesitant. You smiled before turning and walking over to the elevator. You missed your family, and now it felt a little closer to being pieced back together.

You gave a debrief of the plan for the day, as there was plenty you could do on your own later. Though you were grateful to Xavier for helping you get a place, it needed…tlc. The boys agreed to help you move bulky items and clean up the remnants of a bug treatment.

The boys retreated to the lobby—they had to move a couch and some other, far too heavy things. The three of you had been friends for years, bickering and fighting like siblings, but never with ill intent. Though Caleb and Zayne constantly teased each other more recently than anything, you weren’t sure what was a joke anymore.

Your body jolted. A sound of a shout came from the hallway, distracting you from sweeping.

“Damn—Zayne, pull up the couch—” Caleb strained and bit out.

“You’re the one who’s not paying attention,” Zayne shot back calmly.

You walked up to the unfolding scene, your hands resting on your hips when you approached them. The couch was now on the tile of the apartment hallway. You were glad they didn’t break your stuff while they messed around.

“And… Why is my couch on the ground?” you asked, your gaze shooting between them.

“It seems Caleb’s grip slipped,” Zayne quipped. You could feel the air quotes around the last portion of his statement. His hands were resting on his hips as his breathing slowed and evened out.

“I just need a second—I’m sweating over here,” Caleb said, a deep breath coming from his lips.

You watched as he lifted his shirt. His jeans rested low on his hips as he lifted the fabric, you could see faint trails of hair leading down his abdomen. He had a vein running above his hip to below his pants.

Your eyes betrayed you as you shamelessly traced his body. Fuck, he looked good.

Zayne watched you in silence, observing, watching the surprise on your face when Caleb lifted his shirt. And he did not like it. First, why did Caleb always do shit like that, but besides, why did you seem to like it so much.

The three of you worked together to tackle the chaos of the moving day. With the bulky items moved, Caleb helped you clean the kitchen while Zayne focused on the living room. You stood on your tippy toes, wiping the cabinet the best you could, stretching to reach the top shelf. Caleb moved in behind you, his body brushing against yours.

“Let me get that,” he said, his voice soft as he grabbed the cloth from your hand.

Your breath hitched as his warmth seeped through your back. His fingers brushed yours briefly, sending a jolt through you. You moved aside, trying to compose yourself. He stepped to the side after finishing, leaning onto the counter, “Why don’t I take over this part, since you’re so small?” a playful grin played on his lips, as he winked at you.

“Always picking on my size,” you joked, your voice shaky. “Maybe you’re just too tall.”

His grin widened, but something in his gaze lingered a moment too long. “...Maybe,” he murmured, his voice low.

From the corner of the room, Zayne’s gaze flicked toward the kitchen. His hand paused mid-swipe on the wall, his eyes narrowing at seeing Caleb leaning close to you. His grip on the rag tightened, but he quickly looked away. This wasn’t the time.

You noticed all his progress when you made your way to Zayne. He almost successfully cleared the living room. “Can I help?” you said, approaching his side.

Zayne’s lips quirked into a slight smirk. “I figured you’d be too busy with Caleb to remember me.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” you shot back, an uncomfortable laugh leaving your lips.

He attached the extended handle before handing you the mop, his fingers brushing yours slightly. “Guess I’ll have to remind you why I’m the favorite,” he said, his tone light but his eyes serious.

☆

You fell into a routine in the following weeks, trying to adjust to your new life. Weekly meetups with Caleb became a ritual, and today, you waited for him at a quaint coffee shop Zayne had introduced you to. The warm smell of coffee and pastries filled the air as you spotted Caleb walking in, his black coat framing his tall figure.

“Y/N!” he called out, his smile lighting up. He hugged you tightly, lifting you off the ground for a moment.

When he set you down, his eyes held yours for a beat too long. Your stomach flipped as you sat across from him, trying to steady your thoughts.

You began your catch-up over a coffee and some food. Your discussion filled the silence, and you shared a laugh while discussing the latest work drama. You clued Caleb into the details about your coworker, and how the Hunter’s Association locked his file.

It was pretty peculiar in your field; most hunters had a public record, released by the organization they resided under, but in his case, it wasn’t as easily accessible, making him a high-profile individual. Which just made you curious. As talented as you were you couldn’t help but notice the difference in skills between the two of you. It was so obvious he’d been at this longer than you.

Caleb listened intently as you shared the latest work news, his fingers tracing the rim of his coffee cup.

“And what are you going to do about it?” he asked, his voice teasing. “Detective work?”

You shook your head, biting your lip. “I don’t know. It feels like I’d be invading his privacy. I guess—I’ll wait for him to tell me when he’s ready.”

Caleb’s gaze softened. “That’s just like you,” he said quietly, his purple eyes glinting in the light.

Before you could process his words, your watch buzzed with an alarm. “I gotta get back to work,” you said, grabbing your things in a rush.

“I’ll take care of this,” he said, gesturing to the table. “See you later.”

It was a lighter cold today, and no heavy snow blocked your path. As you walked back to work, you were honestly heavy in thought. You couldn’t stop thinking about Caleb. His smiles and touches felt deliberate, and you had no idea how to handle it. Dating had always been a mystery to you, and your nerves weren’t helping.

This wasn’t the first time these nerves graced your presence. When you were much younger, you recall the party, the smell of alcohol, the loud music, and unfamiliar faces. You knew Zayne and Caleb of course, but them being a bit older than you made this crowd—one you hadn’t been exposed to before.

Making your way through the door was the worst. Caleb knew everyone, saying “hellos,” “hi’s,” and “what’s up, dude,” as he led the way. Making your way through the moving bodies was a challenge. You were thankful for Zayne’s hand holding onto yours as you made the way. You scanned the crowd, and everyone was dancing. The number of people grinding on others was mesmerizing, and you wanted in.

The music thudded through the walls, pounding against your ears. You remember making your way up the stairs, following closely behind Caleb, as Zayne sandwiched in behind you, finally letting go of your hand. Honestly, this didn’t seem like Zayne’s type of crowd, and he wasn’t the most outgoing.

When you reached the room, it had fewer people than the rest of the house. You walked in, sitting on the couch while Zayne stood near the corner of the room. Some people sat in a circle with a bottle in the center, obviously playing a game. One of the girls asked if you and the boys wanted to join.

You could feel the eyes of two important men in your life shift to you. Both were curious about your response.

“...yeah.”

Caleb also joined the game, sitting directly across from you. A girl with blonde hair spun the bottle, and before you knew it, it was your turn.

Placing your hand on the bottleneck, you spun the bottle, watching its turning motion with curiosity. When it stopped on Caleb, the purple of his eyes glinted as he looked between you and the bottle.

You could hear the circle of people urging you both on. It was just a kiss. You could do this. He’s your friend. You sat up on your heels, your hands burning as they rested on your knees.

He got close to you and whispered, “Ready?” only for your ears to hear, and he kissed you, his lips connecting with yours softly, sweetly. Some people teased him for the gentleness at which his lips touched yours, but something shot through you when his lips touched yours. He softly bit your bottom lip before he pulled back from you.

He kissed you. Zayne saw, everyone saw, and you liked it.

You needed advice—something solid to guide your next move. You’d already admitted to yourself that you liked him, but how were you supposed to approach this? What did you even say? Zayne helped you through that kiss, reminding you it was just a game. But all these years later, you wanted to be more than a game to Caleb. Even in your shared youth, he had good advice for you, so why wouldn’t you trust him?

When you arrived at the office, your mind was still a tangled mess, buzzing with uncertainty. You decided it was no use overthinking it; it was better to rip the bandaid off.

You pulled out your phone, hesitating for a moment before texting Zayne:

You:

“Can I call you? I need some advice.”

When his reply came moments later—“I have a patient right now. I’ll call you after.”—you let out a relieved sigh. You trusted him, and you needed his help.

Relief washed over you as you read his reply, your heartbeat finally slowing to a steady rhythm. You let out a soft sigh, tucking your phone away. All you had to do now was organize your thoughts.

While you waited, you turned to your caseload, focusing on the profile you’d been compiling for a new wanderer-type you’d encountered during a hunt weeks earlier. Using old files as templates, you typed furiously, the steady rhythm of the keyboard pulling you into the zone. Minutes turned to hours as you worked, the world fading into the background.

The buzzing of your phone jolted you back to reality. You glanced at the screen and barely caught the call before it went to voicemail.

“You want me to teach you how to date?” Zayne’s voice drawled through the line, laced with amusement.

Heat rushed to your face as you groaned audibly. “That’s not—it’s not like that!” you blurted, but Zayne only chuckled softly.

You spent the next ten minutes stumbling through your explanation, your words tangling as you tried to paint a coherent picture of your situation. When you finally stopped, waiting anxiously for his response, all he said was:

“Okay.”

That one word was enough to knock the wind out of you. “Okay?” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Okay,” he confirmed calmly.

Your heart soared. “Okay, then,” you echoed quickly, trying to mask your nervous excitement. You rushed to thank Zayne before ending the call, clutching the phone to your chest. Relief and joy bubbled inside you. You knew Zayne would come through for you. You trusted him completely.

On the other end of the call, Zayne set his phone on his desk, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. He began packing up for the day, shaking his head in amusement. The idea of you coming to him for dating advice was equal parts endearing and intriguing.

Of course, he would help you. That much was never in question. But who had caught your interest so suddenly? The thought gnawed at him, tempting him to ask outright, but he resisted. He’d figure it out eventually.

As he picked up his phone to draft a response, a quiet laugh escaped him. “Lessons,” he murmured, the word rolling off his tongue with amusement. He couldn’t help but smirk as he began typing out a plan. Lessons in dating and seduction? If anyone was going to help you succeed, it was him.

☆

Your phone buzzed with details for your first lesson. You had to admit you were quite excited. When you open the message, you read simple instructions:

Zayne:

“I’ll pick you up at 7 pm. Wear something nice, but comfortable.”

A quiet scoff escaped your lips as you gripped your phone, its cool metal grounding you—way to give me nothing, Zayne. Still, you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips as you typed back.

You:

“Got it.”

With a rare day off, you had more than enough time to overthink this date—or, well, lesson. You'd been on dates before, but this felt different—important. You wanted to impress Caleb later, but you also wanted to enjoy this with Zayne and learn from him.

Determined, you took your time getting ready—a long bath, smooth and refreshed skin, natural hairstyle, skipping the heat of flat irons. Your makeup was subtle, accentuating your best features—your eyes and lips. The outfit? Simple, with an effortless elegance: a black skirt, a beige sweater, and knee-high black boots. Something nice but comfortable, you echoed mockingly in your head.

The doorbell rang. Your pulse quickened. Taking a deep breath, you cracked the door open.

“I’m grabbing my bag—give me a sec,” you said quickly before shutting it again.

Zayne chuckled softly on the other side. You looked nervous, and he thought it was cute.

When you finally stepped out, his eyes swept over you, approval flashing in his gaze. “Ready?” His voice was warm, familiar.

You swallowed, heat rushing to your cheeks. “Yeah.”

Locking up, you stepped beside him, weaving through the apartment halls. The elevator was packed when it arrived, leaving just enough room for the two of you to squeeze in. When the doors slid shut, the crowd's pressure pushed you toward the back corner of the elevator.

Zayne stepped in after you, his body instinctively blocking the others from pressing too close. His warmth enveloped you, a wall of quiet protection. When his chest brushed against yours, your head shot up, startled by the contact—only to knock it against the cold metal wall behind you.

A low groan slipped from your lips, and Zayne chuckled. “Careful.” His hand came up, cupping the back of your head gently.

You stilled. Zayne’s touch was light but steady, fingers warm against your scalp. You let yourself settle into it for just a second, your cheeks heating.

Then, with a soft ding, the doors slid open. The moment was gone.

You followed him out quickly, slipping into his car. The silence was thick but not uncomfortable. Still, you were the first to break it.

“So… where are we going?” you asked, anticipation bubbling beneath your skin.

Zayne’s grip tightened subtly around the gear shift, veins visible against his skin. His lips curled into a faint smile. “You’ll see.”

—

You hadn’t expected this.

The setup was breathtaking—candles flickering softly, a picnic blanket spread on the grass by a lake, and wildflowers scattered around like nature’s own confetti. The crisp spring air carried the scent of earth and blooming petals, a reminder that winter’s grasp was finally loosening. The sun had just begun its descent, casting everything in golden light.

Zayne stood behind you, watching. He caught how your breath hitched and how awe softened your features. The faint flush that always seemed to bloom when he was near. He reveled in it.

“Lesson one,” he murmured. “A date.”

You turned to him, eyes wide. “Zayne, this is…” Your voice wavered with something close to wonder. “This is perfect.”

A small, knowing smile touched his lips.

You hesitated. “I’ve never really—” You exhaled. “So… what do we do now?”

He motioned for you to sit. “First? We eat.”

You obeyed, watching as he unpacked the meal. Your gaze flickered over the assortment of sweets tucked beside the entrees, and you bit your lip. He remembered your sweet tooth.

Your heart squeezed.

He handed you a sandwich—one of your childhood favorites. You took a bite, savoring the familiar flavors and the quiet thoughtfulness behind it.

The evening unfolded like something out of a dream. The conversation was easy and flowing, as it always was between you two. You talked about everything and nothing, letting the city fade away, and the wine in your glass disappeared far too quickly.

At some point, you made the mistake of looking at him.

The sunset bathed him in amber light, the gentle hues accentuating the sharp cut of his jaw and the faint green specks in his eyes. He looked beautiful—effortlessly so. The sleeves of his powder blue dress shirt rolled up, revealing strong forearms, veins pronounced as his fingers idly toyed with the rim of his glass.

His gaze lifted, catching yours.

You panicked. Tipped your head back, draining the last of your wine, pretending to admire the sky.

And so the night went on.

Laughter. Warmth. The kind of company that made the world feel a little less lonely. It had been too long since you’d felt this way.

Maybe that was why—

—why you ended up tipsy.

The last thing you remembered clearly was Zayne’s hands on your waist, steadying you as you stumbled at your door. His voice, amused and gentle, coaxing you inside.

And then—

"You're drunk."

His voice was strained.

Your skin burned. “N ‘m not,” you murmured, reaching up, fingers clumsily ruffling his hair. “I w’nted to kiss you, Z-Zayne…”

His breath hitched.

You wobbled onto your tiptoes, pressing a sleepy, featherlight kiss to his cheek. “G’night, Zayne~”

Darkness.

And then—morning.

Your head throbbed. You groaned, pressing your palm to your forehead, and then—

The memory came rushing back.

Your stomach dropped.

Shit.

What did you do?

You kissed Zayne—just a kiss on the cheek, but no less a kiss. And you didn’t know how you felt about it. Maybe you liked it. And when you checked your phone, your heart skipped a beat.

Zayne:

“Are you feeling better?”

It was a simple question, but your body felt warm, and a smile tugged at your lips as the cold metal burned your hand.

You:

“Yes, I’m still a bit warm, but much better :)”

And from there the conversation flowed.

Zayne:

“So you’re ready for your next lesson?”

You:

“Duh.”

☆

This lesson was set up differently—as a more casual experience. Zayne held the door open, allowing you to enter as the scent of perfumes and faint traces of liquor—something you planned to avoid tonight—filled your senses.

Zayne trailed closely behind you, his eyes drawn to your fitted black dress. It hugged your curves just right, and while you were always beautiful, tonight, you looked divine. His gaze lingered, but he didn’t say a word, instead committing the image to memory.

You settled into the plush velvet seat, crossing your legs as you waited for him to join you. The slight pressure of the fabric against your skin and the low hum of jazz music set a tone of subtle sophistication.

“Lesson two,” he murmured as he sat beside you. “Body language.”

A sly smile crept onto your lips. This time, you were ready. Beyond your carefully chosen outfit, you had mentally prepared to hold your ground. Tonight, you would stay in control.

“So, what’s the plan today, Zayne?” you drawled, leaning forward as your fingers lightly brushed his bicep. You pretended it was a casual touch, but the way his muscles flexed beneath your fingertips sent a jolt through you.

Zayne tilted his head slightly, studying your face. A flicker of amusement danced in his eyes. “You’re already ahead, princess,” he whispered, his voice low. The words felt like a direct hit to your resolve.

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, your lips parted as you scrambled to regain composure. “Head start?” you echoed, tilting your head and trying to sound nonchalant.

"I want to see what you've learned—think you can charm me?" he said simply.

The lounge was an upscale dream: dimly lit, lined with high-end paintings, and filled with the smooth rhythm of jazz. The swaying figures on the dance floor moved in tandem with the music, and for a moment, you let yourself get lost in the scene.

Leaning in closer to Zayne, you brushed your lips near his ear. “Should we dance?” you whispered, your hand steadying yourself on his knee.

The scent of his cologne—clean with a faint hint of jasmine—enveloped you. You felt his gaze sharpen, and when you pulled back slightly to meet his eyes, the faint green specks in them seemed to glow under the low light.

“Shall we?” he asked, his voice smooth, as he stood and offered you his hand.

On the dance floor, your movements flowed easily, the music guiding you. You pulled him closer, and your body pressed flush against his. His hands rested on your lower back, firm and grounding, while your fingers trailed up his chest. The hard muscle beneath your touch sent a thrill through you.

“You look so handsome tonight, Zayne,” you said softly, your lips curving into a small smile.

“Only tonight?” he teased, the corners of his mouth lifting.

Your finger traced lazy patterns on his chest. His heartbeat was steady initially, but you noticed the slight quickening as your touch lingered. You looked up at him, your gaze filled with something unspoken but deeply felt.

“You always do,” you whispered.

The air between you was charged, the tension pulling you closer. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, grounding you while simultaneously making you feel like you might float away.

When the tempo picked up, you spun away from him, creating a bit of distance as you swayed more freely. He matched your rhythm more stiffly than anything. You couldn’t help but smile—this was fun.

“You’re way too stiff,” you said, getting close to him. Watching him try to whine his hips to the upbeat tempo was amazing. A laugh left your lips as your hands gripped his hips. “Why are your feet so close together?!” you choked out.

“I was never a dancer,” he said flatly, unamused by the tears in your eyes.

“Move to the beat,” you said again, trying to show him the way, but he didn’t get it. If you asked him, he’d rather watch you move your body. You moved beautifully, rolling your hips with precision.

When the lounge prepared to close, your cheeks ached from grinning, and your legs were deliciously sore. You shivered slightly as you walked side by side through the chilly night air.

“You look cold,” Zayne said, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders before you could protest.

The warmth of the fabric—and his scent—wrapped around you. A soft, rich aroma of jasmine and something distinctly him made your heart flutter.

You nudged his arm, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “You know… I think this was the best night I’ve had in a long time.”

“I haven’t danced like that in forever.” you said.

“How could I forget?” he replied, his eyes briefly flicking to the stars above. “It’s your favorite thing.”

His fingers brushed against yours, tentative at first. You took the leap, intertwining your fingers with his. The warmth of his hand sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, and you caught the faint blush dusting his cheeks.

This man was everything.

☆

Later That Week

You had agreed to meet Caleb for a more eventful hangout—to meet downtown and do whatever caught your eye.

You spotted him easily. His tall figure towered over most people. You walked up to him, and he hugged you tightly. The warmth of his body covered yours, but it didn’t raise your heartbeat.

When he loosened his grip on you, his hands rested on your shoulders, “Long time no see, pipsqueak,” he said, his voice full of joy.

Your cheeks felt tight from smiling—you were happy to see him, but not for the same reasons as before.

“I know, it’s been a few weeks,” you said, pulling back from him and looking into the purple of his eyes. “Let’s get back on schedule,” you breathed, a light smile plastered on your lips.

Work had been busy, but the truth was that your lessons with Zayne had occupied your thoughts—and your time.

While you started your walk downtown, plenty of things caught your eye. The first thing you did was enter a record shop. The store was in the basement off of a side street. It was a little creepy, but it looked like an underground studio once you got inside. Records were all over the shop, on the wall, and in little baskets stacked in rows.

He browsed next to you, shuffling through the records occasionally showing you one he thought you’d like or an album you’d enjoyed. And in spending this time with him, you realized that you enjoyed this.

The simplicity between you, the light air, and the lack of expectations for anything more was all you needed. Caleb’s fingers softly brushed yours as he placed a vinyl behind the one you held up for him.

“Find anything good?” you asked, your feet planted evenly on the ground as you turned to face Caleb.

His eyes bore into yours, something flickering over them before he answered you.

“Nah—let's get some food,” he said quickly, his demeanor suddenly returning.

Exiting the store, you joined in step beside him, exploring the city's night scene. Your options were endless as you scanned the shops that lined the streets. You spotted a food truck and the smells coming from it were amazing.

Altering Caleb, you both sat at the outdoor seating, waiting for your orders. The chill of the evening air seeped through your clothes, making you shiver slightly.

“Do you want my jacket?” Caleb asked, his tone playful. “You look like you’re freezing.”

“Only if you have an extra,” you said, bouncing your leg under the table to keep warm.

With a smirk, he reached into his bag and handed you a spare coat. “You’re my best friend, You know I always do.”

You slipped it on, grateful for the warmth but… that was it. There was no spark, no flutter of excitement. You tried to convince yourself otherwise, adjusting the collar and wrapping it tighter around yourself, but it felt like just a jacket.

In the quiet moment that followed, your mind drifted back to Zayne. His jacket had enveloped you in warmth and scent, and your heart raced when he was near. You glanced at Caleb, who was busy watching the street outside.

Nothing. That kiss was—just a kiss. Years ago, you wouldn’t have believed anyone. Not even Zayne could have convinced you it was a fleeting crush. But it really was. You felt proper chemistry, companionship, and care and wanted to keep experiencing that with Zayne.

The weight of your realization was crushing. All the time you spent—wasted on this man. You cared for him, you truly did. But, what about you? Why were you so pent-up and focused on this person you didn't even really like? Was it really him you missed? Or just how he filled your time and made you feel small—safe, even?

That's the point. You’re not small. You're a grown woman who can stand independently, make her own decisions, and provide her own entertainment. Relief washed over you in waves because what were you even doing? Holding onto a version of the past that no longer fits?

But right behind it, sadness crept in. Not for Caleb, but for the time lost—chasing something never meant to be yours. But you didn’t truly waste time if it led you here—to someone real. To Zayne.

You forced a smile, staring down at your lap, and tried to push away the sinking feeling in your chest. You used to admire Caleb. It should feel special, especially his attention and time, but—it doesn’t.

Caleb was the person you had wanted—the reason for the lessons.

The contrast was stark, undeniable. And for the first time, you realized the answer had been clear.

☆

You had admitted to Zayne that you wanted a cozy evening. Work had drained you, but more than anything, your recent realization had knocked the wind out of you. It wasn’t just an idle thought—the truth that settled deep in your bones, undeniable yet terrifying.

You knew what you needed to say and do, but the effort of voicing it—of being honest with Zayne—made your nerves coil tight.

Your lessons have helped. You felt more confident, more self-assured. You understood what a date was supposed to be now, what it meant to be courted and wanted. But more than anything, you wanted something real.

With him.

So, he invited you over after work.

Zayne:

"How about I cook you dinner, and we watch a movie?"

You:

"How do you always know exactly what I need?"

…

Zayne:

"Make yourself at home. I just finished setting up."

When you arrived at his house, the living room instantly warmed you. The room glowed softly from the candles he had lined along the tables, their flickering light casting gentle shadows against the walls. The scent of something rich and savory drifted from the kitchen, mingling with the faint traces of his cologne.

But the sight of something familiar made your heart catch in your chest—small plushies, the ones you had won years ago, still resting on the couch.

He had kept them.

Your fingers grazed one absentmindedly as you took it all in, a lump forming in your throat.

You didn’t miss the sound of the shower running from the other room, and heat bloomed across your face. The thought of him stepping out—steam rising, droplets tracing the planes of his skin—sent your mind spiraling. He had just gotten off work, yet he still made time to set everything up for you.

As if on cue, the water stopped. A moment later, the door cracked open, and Zayne walked out, a towel slung low on his hips, another in his hands as he ruffled it through his damp black hair.

“Don’t be a stranger,” he said casually, his voice smooth. “Have a seat.”

Then, as if completely unaware of his effect on you, he strode into his bedroom and shut the door with a soft click.

You swallowed hard. That lasted less than a second, but it was enough.

His physique was unreal—his lean yet defined frame, the way his skin still glistened slightly, the tantalizing trail of hair disappearing beneath the towel… and God, you wanted to know where it led.

This was new. You had never felt this way before.

And he was making you crazy.

You forced yourself to move, settling onto the couch, trying to calm your racing heart as you waited for him. You distracted yourself with the snacks he had spread across the table, but your mind kept replaying that brief glimpse of him.

When he finally reappeared, dressed in a fitted shirt and sweatpants, looking effortlessly breathtaking, your breath caught in your throat.

Something about this moment—the candlelight, the scent of dinner lingering in the air, the sheer intimacy of being here with him—felt so real. So domestic. So much like something you wanted forever.

Zayne disappeared into the kitchen, leaving you in the glow of candlelight. A few moments later, he emerged with two plates in hand, setting them down on the dining table before motioning for you to sit.

“Did you make all of this?” you asked, raising a brow as you took in the spread before you.

“Of course,” he replied smoothly, settling across from you. “I figured you’d appreciate a home-cooked meal after the week you’ve had.”

Your heart ached at how thoughtful he was.

The meal was warm and comforting—just like him. You took a bite, letting the rich flavors settle on your tongue and savoring the moment. Zayne watched you carefully, his gaze flicking to your lips before he took a bite of his own food.

“This is really good,” you admitted, breaking the silence. “You’re full of surprises.”

He smirked slightly, tilting his head. “You act like you don’t already know I’m good with my hands.”

Your fork stalled mid-air. Heat crawled up your neck as your eyes snapped to his.

Zayne smirked slightly, taking another bite as if he hadn’t set your whole body on fire with that one sentence.

Your stomach twisted, and it had nothing to do with the food.

“I—” You cleared your throat, trying to regain composure. “I suppose I do.”

His gaze flickered with amusement before he leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly against the wood. Something was intoxicating about the way he watched you. It was like he was reading every thought running through your head.

The tension built slowly, lingering between every glance, every soft smile exchanged over the rim of your glasses.

At some point, his foot brushed against yours beneath the table. It was barely a touch—so light it could’ve been an accident. But when you met his gaze, you knew it wasn’t.

Neither of you spoke on it. Neither of you moved away.

It was almost unbearable, the weight of the moment, the way the air grew heavier, tighter.

After dinner, you both moved to the couch. The flickering candlelight cast shadows across his sharp features, making him look even more devastatingly handsome than usual.

You curled next to him as he flipped through the streaming options before settling on something. Not that it really mattered—you could barely focus because of how close he was.

The movie played, but you weren’t watching.

You were too aware of Zayne’s presence, the warmth of his arm resting along the back of the couch, fingers occasionally brushing against your shoulder. Every tiny touch sent a current through you.

Then, in the middle of a scene, Zayne suddenly reached for the remote.

Click.

Ring…Ring…Ring…

Your phone started ringing, now of all times, and you dropped your gaze to the device at the same time as Zayne.

Caleb calls all the time, but the timing of this was just—it couldn’t be a coincidence. And you weren’t sure if you should answer.

“Don’t pick it up,” was all you heard, as you gripped the metal of your phone tighter.

“Why,” you whispered, your voice small now. The confidence you had before flickered, unsteady—like a candle caught in the wind. You felt tender, exposed. Unsure if you had the strength to do what needed to be done.

“I know you wanted lessons, because of Caleb,” he started, his eyes meeting yours. The air felt cooler now, and goosebumps ran over your skin.

"I can’t do this if you’re still holding onto him," he murmured, his voice steady—but stretched thin, like he was barely holding himself together.

“I can’t bear to see you with him—now that your presence has graced me, I see small pieces of you everywhere I go,” he admitted, his voice soft and tortured.

Zayne exhaled through his nose, running a hand through his dark hair before finally speaking.

“I don’t want you to want Caleb—I want you to want me” he breathed.

The screen froze mid-ring. A silence stretched between you—thick, suffocating. Heavy with everything left unsaid.

Your brows furrowed as you turned to him, only to find his gaze already on you—serious, searching.

Your breath hitched.

The weight of his words settled deep in your chest, heavy and unshakable.

You swallowed. Say it.

“I thought I wanted to be with another man, Zayne…” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. He tensed slightly, his jaw tightening, but you reached for his hand, your fingers brushing against his.

“But I don’t,” you continued softly, eyes searching his. “I want this. I want you.”

The words left you in a breath, raw and real.

Zayne didn’t move, didn’t speak right away. But you saw how his eyes darkened, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed.

“Please, Zayne,” you whispered, your voice breaking slightly as you leaned in.

Your breath stilled, heart hammering. He was too close—his scent, the warmth radiating from his skin, the slight tremor in his breath. And then… finally, you leaned in, and he met you halfway.

You pulled back slightly, your breaths intertwining in the room's dimness. Your eyes opened tentatively, and you saw Zayne staring at you, his chest heaving from the kiss you had just shared.

“Again,” you murmured, a silent plea because now that you were here you couldn’t let this pass. And Zayne obeyed, kissing you again. You could feel him shifting your position. His hands found your back, and he briefly disconnected your lips to lay you on the couch.

His knees straddled your hips, as he just watched you, “Beautiful,” he whispered before tasting your lips again, the weight of him on top of you was not only delicious but welcome. You gasped at the pressure, and he slipped his tongue in your mouth. A groan escaped your mouth when his tongue entered your lips.

“Wait,” you said, your hands resting on Zayne’s chest as he lay on you.

“I’ve never done this before,” you said, noticing the clench of his jaw, flushed face, and swollen lips.

He waited for a beat, watching you silently, “I’ll take care of you, princess,” he exhaled.

“I don’t have much experience,” he admitted, his gaze shifting from yours.

Your eyes widened with shock at his admission. You had assumed he was experienced, and that was part of the reason you asked him for help.

You took a breath, smiling at him. " Let's learn together,” you whispered in his ear before leaning your head back and resting it against the pillow.

You pulled him flush against you, his weight pressing you into the couch. He began his thorough search kissing your temple, to the crux of your ear, “Another lesson, …hm?” he whispered. And that caused you to writhe beneath him—the sound of his voice in your ear, and the soft vibrato of his confirmation.

He began his steady exploration with his lips and hands. Stroking up and down your body, though most of it covered, the cool of his hands made your skin get chills when he touched you.

“Can I take this off?” he asked, gesturing to your t-shirt.

“Yes,” you said too quickly, embarrassed by your eagerness.

You adjusted your body, allowing him to pull the fabric over your head. You lay there sitting up on your forearms, just watching his explorative touch. His pointer finger traced the outline of your bra, hovering just above your skin.

“You—” you started, biting the fat of your lip, “Zayne, I want you to take this off too.”

And those emerald eyes watched you. In his head, he couldn’t believe you would be his—already prepared to memorize your every reaction. His hand trembled before steadying against your skin. The contact of his hand caused you to arch away from the couch. Click.

The bra fell forward as you shrugged it off your arms. Your whole body felt warm as you guided Zayne’s hands to hold your breasts. Your hands rested on his before you moved them back to the couch. His thumbs felt the hardening peaks beneath his hands, and he gave them a tentative flick, watching your face. You squirmed beneath him.

Sensitive here. He made a mental note, before rubbing the hardened nub against his thumb at a steady pace.

He moved his mouth to your other breast kissing it, before watching your face as his tongue made contact with it. Your hips jerked forward gently when he flicked it with his tongue. You bit your lip watching him play with your nipples.

“Can—you touch me there?” you whimpered. His lips parted from your nipple.

“Where?” he asked, and both of you just looked at each other.

Before you took his hand and brought it between your legs. You held it there rubbing yourself on his hand through your pants, but you didn't miss the way Zayne trained his eyes on you. Watching each little reaction you had when he touched you. Even the lightest of touch made his lips part slightly even with the furious flush of his skin.

His cock was straining in his pants, but he waited, wanting to learn you first.

He laid you down, your hands threading into his hair. Pulling him close to you he buried his face in your neck. The smell of jasmine filled your senses, as he groaned beneath you, breathing in your scent. You leaned back into the couch, shaken by the idea of him on top of you.

Your breasts pressed against his chest, the cool fabric causing a shiver to roll through you. He ran his face up and down your neck leaving a trail of light kisses. It was as if he was savoring you, imprinting your smell, your presence in his mind—as if you’d be done with him after this.

“You’re beautiful,” he groaned against your throat.

Zayne steadied himself on his hands on either side of your head, his gaze trailing over your body to where he would find himself next. His eyes stopped between your thighs, he watched intently as you squirmed beneath him, your body shifting under his gaze.

Your heartbeat felt loud in your ears, and the cold stillness of the air sent a shiver through you. His lips found your jaw, kissing a slow line tracing to your throat. Each touch of his lips sent heat between your legs, and you tilted your head to give him more access, a whimper escaping your lips.

Zayne was just a friend, someone who supported and loved you but someone you felt you couldn’t have. Your change of heart made you act on a whim to take advantage of your time with him. You wanted him, and no one else could have him but you. He was a high you couldn't—didn't want to get rid of.

You grasped the blankets on the couch, trying to ground yourself somehow, while he worked slow kisses down your chest with light scrapes of his teeth.

His hands ran down your sides, caressing your breasts to your hips, his thumbs brushing the naked skin beneath your sweatpants. It was a maddening sensation, and you only wanted him to keep going.

You could see his erection pressed firmly against his pants, and you felt tempted to reach forward, to touch it. To pull him closer firmly against you, to feel him where you needed him most.

One of his hands left you cupping you over your pants. The pressure against your clit stole your breath. A quiet groan of approval left his lips, while you felt a pulse between your legs.

You ground your hips upwards into his hand. A breath left your lips as you moved your hips.

“Touch me, Zayne,” you breathed, you felt like you were in a dream.

He paused, his breath hitching at your words. His gaze darkened, the green of his eyes barely visible, as he searched your face. His jaw clenched, his voice dropping, rough with restraint. “Say that again.”

You observed him, grabbing the drawstrings of his pants. “Touch me Zayne, …Please” Your voice came out small, pleading.

He exhaled slowly, his fingers twitching against your skin. He traced your pussy through your pants, his fingers burning through your pants—that you wished he’d taken off already.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he murmured, his thumb brushing over you, his touch reverent, like he was memorizing you.

You had never been undressed like this. And you wanted it, you wanted to be touched by him, to feel him grabbing you.

He gripped the waistband of your pants, adjusting his position to push them down your thighs, dropping them to the floor. You sat there in only black underwear while he sat across from you, still in his t-shirt and sweats.

His attention was all yours, and it was thrilling.

Your hands still gripped the blanket beneath you. Your feet were tucked next to your bottom.

“Let me see you.” His voice was low and deliberate. His fingertips grazed your knee before applying the faintest pressure. His eyes searched yours, waiting. “Spread your legs for me.”

You took in an unsteady breath, and you did it.

His hands ran up your legs, his fingers pressing into your thighs, making your stomach tighten unexpectedly. The cool of his hands felt good against your soft skin.

The cool air brushed against your panties making you aware of how wet your panties were. Zayne’s gaze met you there, shooting warmth through you.

Your breath hitched when his thumb pressed down on your clit through the fabric. His other hand was steady on your thigh, pressing your thighs open wider. The brush of his thumb up and down sparked a heat in your lower stomach.

You leaned your head back and started to rock under his touch. And then he kissed your nipple, sucking it into his mouth. He groaned, licking and sucking your breasts with a slight scrape of teeth. A high-pitched moan escaped your lips, one of your hands gripping his hair.

His mouth was so hot, and he kept licking you, how you’d never felt before. You felt like you could die. So, when he removed his mouth from your breasts, you thought you were going to scream.

He removed your underwear, leaving them in a pile with the rest of your clothes, spreading your legs once more as his gaze fell between your thighs.

His fingers glide gently along your inner thigh, his touch warm and deliberate, but never rushed. His gaze softens as he takes you in, his breathing slow, controlled—like he’s memorizing every part of you.

"Are you sure?" he murmured, his voice hushed, almost reverent. His thumb stroked lazy circles against your skin, a silent reassurance, a quiet promise that he won’t rush you.

When you nodded, his lips part slightly, his eyes locked onto yours, searching—making sure.

"Let me take care of you," he breathed, his hands smoothing up your thighs as he leaned in closer, pressing a lingering kiss just above your knee. "I want to make this good for you."

He wrapped his arms around the back of your thighs, pulling you closer to him, and his head lowered between them. You shuddered at the first touch of his tongue, pleasure running through you. Each soft lap of your clit rolled through you.

His arms held you so securely that you couldn’t move your hips while he licked you. As much as he said he wanted to take care of you, it felt like he was doing this for himself.

“Zayne,” you moaned, digging your hands into his thick black hair.

He swirled his tongue over your clit before sucking. His eyes were on you, watching you writhe beneath him. His finger filled you, sending a tremor through you, with his mouth on your clit, licking and sucking, while his fingers moved in and out of you. And he did it with such ease, deep noises of satisfaction falling from his lips.

He was taking his time, slowly working you out and the pressure was building up in you. You bucked your hips, feeling the heat growing throughout you.

“Zayne…I need more,” you cried out, your voice trembling with desperation.

His name fell from your lips like a prayer, and he answered it with slow, calculated movements—his pace steady, yet devastating. He added another finger, stretching you further, his touch unrelenting as he pressed deeper, curling just right. The pleasure was unbearable in the best way, a wave crashing over you with no hope of escape.

Your breath hitched as his dark, heated gaze met yours, watching, reading every reaction like it was the only thing that mattered. His free hand smoothed over your thigh, grounding you, soothing you—only to bring you higher moments later.

A choked-out plea left your lips, your body arching, back curving as the heat coursed through your veins, pooling low in your stomach. You clenched around him, muscles tightening as that sharp, dizzying pleasure built to a breaking point.

“That's it,” he murmured, voice thick with something unreadable, something possessive yet achingly tender. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss against the soft skin of your inner thigh, his breath hot and teasing, sending shivers up your spine.

And then—release.

Your body trembled, pleasure crashing into you in relentless waves. He didn't stop, not right away, working you through it, coaxing every last aftershock from your sensitive body until you were completely spent.

You collapsed against the couch, fully fucked out, limbs heavy, your mind hazy with bliss.

A shaky breath left your mouth, as you sat up slowly running your fingers through his hair.

Neither of you spoke. You didn’t need to.

The air between you was charged, thick with something unspoken, something dangerous. Something real.

His jasmine scent invaded your senses as his body wrapped around yours. You closed your eyes, surprised by the sudden upward jerk of him holding your naked body. You held him close as he carried you to the closed bedroom door.

He laid you on the bed gently, holding your stare, he slipped off his shirt and sweatpants, your cheeks growing warmer even as he stood before you in his briefs. You glanced at his erection pressed through the fabric. He was so hard, and it was hot. And all for you.

Goose bumps spread across your skin, as he opened the nightstand drawer, pulling out a condom.

“Do you want me?” he whispered, his gaze meeting yours, as he dropped his briefs.

“Yes,” you breathed.

He crawled over you, kissing your stomach and breasts as he did. His body covered yours, so heavy. It made your skin sing with satisfaction. He kissed your neck, bracing his hands beside your head.

Your fingers trailed the line of hair, you'd been desperate to touch. You hesitated, unsure how to touch him.

Zayne felt your hesitation, and meeting your gaze, he whispered, “Your touch… I need it.”

Your heart fluttered with uncertainty, but you slid your hands down gripping his erection. His forehead fell on the side of your neck, encouraging you further.

You wrapped your hand around his length. And he groaned. You ran your hand down to the base and all the way back up.

"Don’t make me wait…please" you whispered in his ear, placing a kiss there.

"Tell me how much you need me,” he rasped, nipping at your neck.

"I’ve always needed you, Zayne," you said softly, dragging your hands through his hair. "I need you in every way… not just tonight."

His eyes met yours before kissing you while you stroked him again. Your breasts brushed against his chest, sending pleasure through you.

“...Please” you breathed.

He rolled onto the bed next to you, slipping off his briefs, the sound of the wrapper crinkling in his hands drawing your attention. You watched as he poised to tear it open, his gaze flicking to yours for confirmation.

“Wait,” you whispered, your voice soft but resolute. He paused instantly, his eyes searching yours.

“I want to feel all of you,” you said, vulnerability lacing your tone, the weight of your trust hanging in the air.

His expression softened, his brow furrowing with both tenderness and concern.

“If it’s too much, just say the word,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, a promise woven into each syllable. “I won’t do anything you don’t want.”

He leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, lingering as though to reassure you. Positioning himself at your entrance, his movements were deliberate, his focus entirely on you.

He took the head of his erection and rubbed it against your pussy. The tip caught your clit, causing your breath to hitch. He started to slip the head inside you, and it stung. A shudder rolled through you as you exhaled. Your fingers curled on his chest as he stayed still inside you, watching your face.

He pushed deeper into you, his gaze dark and unwavering as he watched the way your lips parted, a soft whimper spilling free. The sound sent a shudder through his body, his breath coming out ragged as he struggled to hold himself together.

The stretch burned—a slow, intoxicating burn—one that sent heat rolling through your veins. You felt so full, every inch of him fitting into you as though he was meant to be there.

When he finally bottomed out, a cry tore from your throat, your back arching, pressing you flush against his chest. His arms wrapped around you instinctively, his weight solid, grounding, overwhelming in the best way.

He didn’t move right away.

Instead, he stayed buried deep, letting you adjust, letting you feel every inch of him. Your arms wound around his neck, and he exhaled against your skin, his breath warm and uneven.

For a moment, there was only the sound of your mingled breathing, the slow rise and fall of your chests as you both tried to catch air. He was everywhere, his presence consuming, intoxicating.

And then, he moved.

A slow, deliberate roll of his hips.

You gasped at the sensation, at the way he dragged against your walls with aching precision, each thrust filling you completely. Your nails raked down his back, and he shuddered at the sensation, his control fraying at the edges.

“You take it so good,” he praised, his voice thick, rough with something raw, something reverent.

Every time his pelvis ground against yours, his head spread throughout you. The friction sent sparks up your spine, every movement of his body against yours pulling a new sound from your lips.

He was watching you, utterly captivated by the way you unraveled beneath him. His thrusts remained slow, deliberate, as if savoring every reaction, every little gasp and moan that escaped you.

His fingers traced down your side, over the curve of your waist, gripping you tighter as his pace deepened, intensified. His gaze burned into yours, filled with something you couldn’t quite name.

His eyes locked onto yours, his thrusts slow and deliberate. “So beautiful for me,” he rasped, his voice low, dripping with need.

The words ran over your skin, filling you with warm satisfaction, your head tilting back as another moan escaped you. Zayne’s lips hovered above yours. With each slow thrust, they brushed yours lightly.

His pace faltered, his rhythm stuttering as he fought for control, his breath ragged against your skin. But he didn’t dare rush—he wanted to feel every second of this, every shudder, every tremor that wracked your body beneath him.

“You’re mine… all mine,” he groaned, voice thick with possession, his body tensing, muscles drawn taut as he drove his hips deep one last time.

A choked moan escaped you as you shattered beneath him, pleasure crashing over you in waves. His grip on you tightened as his own release followed, a deep, guttural sound leaving his lips as he buried himself fully, claiming every inch of you.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your ragged breathing, your hearts hammering in sync as he collapsed against you, his weight a comforting warmth pressing you into the mattress.

Neither of you spoke right away.

Zayne traced slow, lazy circles on your bare skin, grounding himself in the feel of you, the reality of you. His forehead rested against yours, his breath still uneven but calming, syncing with yours.

Then, in the quiet, his lips tipped into a smirk against your temple.

“So… does this mean I can finally call you my girlfriend?” His voice was lower now, teasing but laced with something real—something hopeful.

He pulled back slightly, eyes searching yours in the dim light. “Or do I have to seduce you all over again?”

His grin was cocky, but there was something vulnerable in the way he looked at you—like he needed this answer.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, a slow, tired smile spreading on your lips as you exhaled softly.

"I think you already have," you whispered.

The tension broke as he let out a satisfied hum, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before pulling you closer, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

And you didn’t want him to.

Not now.

Not ever.

3K notes · View notes

urmum-lovesme · 29 days ago

Text

Bunny (P3)

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: Here comes more time at the cluubbb. Rafe is more of a dick in this than in the last one ngl (ik she want that dick tho). Also her and jj- my heart she's literally his mother figure stop.

warnings: mentions of drugs, smoking, drinking, a strip club, naked women, drug dealing, aggressive behaviour, black mailing.

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

The bass thrummed through the club, vibrating up through the floor and into her bones but she barely noticed anymore. The neon lights and the low murmur of conversation, all of it was just background noise now.

She was draped across the lap of one of her regulars, a middle-aged man named Daniel who always paid well and tipped even better. His hand rested on her thigh, fingers just barely brushing against the hem of her skimpy skirt which didn��t even cover her ass, and she giggled at something he said- some stupid joke about how his wife would kill him if she knew where he was. ‘Most likely’ she thought to herself. Y/N traced her nails lightly over his shoulder, tilting her head just enough to make him think he had all of her attention.

"You always know how to make a man feel special sweetheart"

Daniel mused, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. His wedding ring glinted under the dim club lights. She had to push down the small tug in her stomach and just smirked, leaning in so her lips ghosted just past his ear.

"That’s what you pay me for, isn’t it?"

Daniel let out a low chuckle, his hand slightly patting on her thigh,"Worth every damn penny."

She smiled at him- sweet, teasing, practiced- and her eyes flicked toward the entrance for a split second, scanning the room without making it obvious.

Just another night - just another guy.

Daniel's fingers trailed absentmindedly along the bare skin of her thigh, the warmth of his touch barely registering beneath the practiced detachment she had perfected over time. He took another sip of his drink, eyes raking over her with appreciation.

"You should let me take you somewhere nice one of these days"

He murmured, voice thick with whiskey and the kind of confidence only alcohol could provide. Y/N let out a soft laugh, she loved living into their fantasies- it always entertained her most- not to mention it gave her the best tip. Tilting her head to the side as she traced slow circles over his chest with her fingertip. She teased, voice sultry but laced with amusement.

"Oh yeah? Think your wife would be okay with that?"

"She doesn’t have to know."

He grinned, a little too smug and she couldn’t repress her smirk, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "Mm, tempting," she purred, shifting slightly in his lap, feeling the way his breath hitched at the movement.

“But I think you like to hide me right here..."

"So smart, aren’t you?"

Daniel exhaled a laugh, shaking his head. She only smiled, knowing exactly what he wanted to hear. And just like that, his hand slid up, tucking a few crisp bills into the thin waistband of her panties. The sensation of paper against her skin was familiar, almost comforting in a strange way. He always paid well- one of the few reasons she tolerated his lingering touches and lazy smiles.

"That’s for being my best girl"

He said, his fingers brushing against her hip before dropping away. She glanced down at the stack peeking out from the band of her panties, counting the edges in her head. A few hundred at least. Good. Y/N leaned in closer, her lips just shy of his ear once more.

"You keep treating me this well, Danny, and I just might start believing you,"

She whispered, her breath warm against his skin. He chuckled, a deep, indulgent sound, before finishing off the rest of his drink. But just as she was about to shift, reposition herself to make him forget about everything except her and what he had left in his wallet, that same shift in the air from earlier prickled at the back of her neck- and then she felt it.

A gaze.

Heavy, unrelenting, watching her from across the club. Y/N had felt the weight of his stare before she even turned her head. It was always like this. Like some sixth sense, a quiet, nagging feeling at the back of her mind that told her exactly when Rafe Cameron was watching her.

And lately, it was all the damn time.

Her gaze flickered over to where he was sitting- Rafe, lounging in a booth with Barry beside him, the two of them deep in conversation. Barry was grinning, talking what appeared sluggishly, but Rafe wasn’t listening. His sharp blue eyes were fixed on her, the dim glow of the club reflecting off them in a way that made her stomach twist. She rolled her eyes, not even trying to hide it.

Of course he was here again.

Ever since he and Barry started coming around more often, their business booming, Rafe had made it a point to lurk in the background of her nights. She never knew if it was just to get under her skin or if he actually had some purpose behind his actions- which she doubted. Either way, she was sick of it. Turning back to Danny, she let her fingers run over his collar, her nails lightly scraping against his skin as she leaned in.

"What do you say we take this somewhere a little more private, hmm?"

"You‘re a naughty girl Bunny"

Danny grinned, already pulling out his wallet. Y/N just forced out a smile, taking his hand and leading him toward where the private rooms were located. Rafe’s grip tightened around his glass, the condensation slick against his palm as he watched her. His jaw flexed, a slow inhale as Daniel let her take his hand and lead him toward the back rooms with that same effortless sway in her hips, that same lack of hesitation.

Like it was nothing- because it was nothing, that’s what he told himself, anyway. And yet, something ugly twisted inside him, something hot and slow-burning, clawing up his throat and settling behind his ribs like a weight. It wasn’t jealousy.

It wasn’t.

It was disgust. Yeah. Disgust at how easily she paraded herself around. Disgust at how she let men like Danny put their hands on her, whisper in her ear, slide cash into the band of those tiny fucking panties. Disgust at the way she looked at Rafe like he was a problem. His fingers twitched against the glass, the ice inside shifting with the movement. The door to the private rooms clicked shut, sealing her inside with another man. His stomach turned and Barry’s elbow nudged into his side,

“Gott' em panties in a twist cuz?”.”

Rafe's fingers drum against his thigh, his jaw clenching as his eyes stayed fixed on the door Y/N disappeared behind. He just exhaled slowly, lifting his drink to his lips. The whiskey burned its way down his throat, but it didn’t do a damn thing to settle the irritation simmering in his chest. His gaze snaps to the side as Tommy strolls past. Without a second thought, he stands up, stepping into his path and placing a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Hey man-”

Rafe drawls, flashing that easy-going grin that never quite reaches his eyes. Tommy stops, brow furrowing as he looks at him.

“Rafe. Everything good?”

Rafe keeps his grip firm, steering him slightly away from the main floor, lowering his voice just enough, “Need to talk to you about something.” Tommy eyes him warily but gestures for him to go on.

“That girl Y/- shit what’s her- Bunny right?.” Rafe tilts his head toward the private rooms where she’d disappeared to, his lips twitching. Tommy follows his gaze and gives him a small nod of understanding, “yeah?”

“I don’t want her doing private dances anymore.”

Tommy blinks, taken aback, “What?”

“You heard me.” Rafe shifted his weight, standing a little taller as he continued, “No more private rooms for her. Not with other guys, at least.” Tommy scoffs, shaking his head at his absurd request.

“That’s not how this works. She’s one of my best girls. Lotta guys pay good money to have time with her.”

Rafe frown slightly- surprised at the man’s refusal, he lets outs a small hum of amusement, before pulling a roll of cash from his pocket and peeling off a few hundred dollar bills, letting them sit between his fingers.

“That’s cute,” he says. “But see, I’m not asking.”

“You want her to stop doin’ privates… why, exactly?”

Tommy’s expression tightens as he looks at the money, then back at Rafe. Barry, who’s been watching the exchange with mild amusement, finally chimes in. “Oh, he wants her dancin’ for us now?” he says, grinning. “Would ya look at that”

Rafe tilts his head, his rolling his eyes at his friends retort. “Something like that.” Tommy exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

“This isn’t a fuckin’ charity, Cameron. I can’t just—”

“You can if I make it worth your while,” Rafe cuts in smoothly, tapping the stack of cash against Tommy’s chest before pressing it into his hand. “We both know you like money, Tommy. I’ve got plenty of it- so what’s the problem huh?”

Tommy glances down at the bills, hesitating. “I’ll keep it simple for you,” Rafe continues, lowering his voice, his eyes dark with something unreadable.

“She dances for me. Me and Barry. No one else. Every time we’re here.”

Tommy lets out a long breath, eyeing Rafe for a moment before slowly nodding. “Fine. But if she asks, this wasn’t my idea.” Rafe grins, stepping back as he claps the man on the shoulder, “Pleasure doing business.” As Tommy walks off, Barry lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

“You’re pussy whipped Cameron.”

Rafe scoffs, leaning back in his seat, his tongue running over his teeth. “Nah, man…” He shakes his head, picking up his drink and taking a slow sip before setting it back down with a quiet clink. His eyes flick back toward the private rooms, dark and unreadable.

“Just gotta make sure she knows who’s in charge.”

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

The dressing room was a haze of perfume, hairspray, and soft music playing from someone’s phone in the corner. Bright, round vanity bulbs framed the mirrors, casting a warm glow over the space, reflecting sequins, silk, and lace. The air carried the sounds of quiet laughter, the snap of compacts closing. Y/N sat at her usual spot, adjusting the strap of her new bra, eyes flicking over her reflection. The strap was loose again- annoying. She huffed, tugging it into place just as Tommy’s voice cut through the chatter.

“Y/N. Need a word.”

“Why?”

She turned, brows furrowing as he gestured her over to him. She slowly rose up from her seat, the sound of her heels clicking against the floor getting lost amongst the chatter of the other few girls scattered around the room. She made it up to the door way and stood opposite the man eyebrows slightly furrowed as she folded her arms waiting. Tommy exhaled through his nose, arms crossed over his chest.

“No more private dances.”

"What?”

“You’re not doing them anymore.”

She let out a dry laugh as the sudden new revelation, “What are you talking about?”

“You heard me.”

“That’s where I make the most money Tommy.”

He didn’t say anything because he knew it was going to be an issue- he also knew it was an inane request. Yet he just kept looking at her, like he was waiting for her to let it go. But she wasn’t letting it go. Her eyebrows were drawn down uncomfortably connoting her distress as her voice rang out once more.

“What the fuck is this? I can’t believe you think that I’m just going to dro-”

“-Rafe Cameron put in a request.”

And just like that, the blood in her veins ran hot. Her stomach twisted at the name alone. “A request?” she repeated slowly, already dreading where this was going. “Yeah.” He shifted his weight, clearly uncomfortable.

“No more private dances for anyone but him and Barry.”

She blinked. Then laughed. A dry, humorless sound. “You’re fucking serious?”

“I’m serious.” As soon as the words passed his lips the the expression of confusion was wiped off of her face in an instance, now being replaced by a face twisted with anger,

“You’re actually letting him tell you how to run your own damn club?”

“Watch it, Y/N.”

“-No, you watch it, Tommy”

She snapped, “I work here and you’re supposed to be my boss. But it doesn’t fucking look like it.”

“I am the boss. And I’m telling you how it is.”

A few girls nearby went quiet, exchanging glances. Tommy took a step closer, lowering his voice. It was uncommon for him to be stern with them, after all he considered most of them like family. So the fact they were all currently sitting watching him lecture Y/N had them slightly on the edge of their seat. She scoffed, shaking her head at him.

“Unbelievable.”

“Yeah, well, believe it.”

Tommy shot her a look. “Do your job Y/N” With that, he turned and walked off, leaving her fuming. Moments after, Y/N stormed out of the dressing room, jaw clenched, fists tight at her sides as she weaved through the dimly lit club. The bass-heavy music thumped in her chest, the colored lights flashing over bodies, over money exchanging hands, over the world she had to survive in. She spotted them right away- Barry leaned in close to some guy, murmuring low as a roll of cash was slipped into his palm. Rafe sat beside him, relaxed, legs spread, beer bottle in one hand, his other draped over the back of the booth like he owned the place. Her blood boiled at the sight of him.

“Are you fucking serious?”

She hissed the moment she reached them, eyes locked on Rafe. Barry let out a low whistle, not even looking up from the customer. “Well, I’ll let the lovebirds sort this one out,” He muttered with a smirk before leading the guy toward a darker corner of the club, leaving them alone. Y/N didn’t waste a second.

“Do you have any idea how much money I’m losing because of your shit?”

“I don’t see how that’s my problem Bunny.”

Her voice was sharp, but quiet enough not to draw attention. Rafe, as always, looked entirely unfazed. He barely lifted his chin to meet her glare, taking a slow sip from his bottle before answering.

“Besides- I think I can afford to pay for a stripper.”

Her teeth clenched so hard it ached. Her fingers curled at her sides, nails pressing into her palms. She was about to snap back, about to tell him exactly where he could shove his money, when his eyes darkened, and he cut her off.

“Just shut up and do your job.”

“-Excuse me?”

She inhaled sharply. He gestured lazily toward the small stage beside their booth, the one with the pole gleaming under the soft purple lights. He tilted his head, a slow, smug grin curling on his lips.

“Go on—I’m waiting, Bunny.”

Fury burned through her, white-hot. She stepped closer, her chest rising and falling heavily, her pulse drumming against her skin as she lifted up her hand pointing at him- ready to curse him out in front of half the club. Rafe watched her, his amusement growing the angrier she got. Before she could let loose, Tommy was suddenly between them, a firm hand on her arm.

“Hey- hey"

He warned, his voice low, expression sharp. Y/N’s breaths were heavy, her fists trembling at her sides as she glared past Tommy at Rafe. He only smirked, slow and easy, like he had all the time in the world. Tommy stepped in between them, his hand firm on Y/N’s arm, his voice low but controlled.

“Are we gonna have a problem here?”

He asked, but his eyes flickered between Y/N and Rafe, knowing exactly what was about to happen. Rafe didn’t flinch. He leaned back, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips.

“Ask your bitch, man.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, blood boiling at the words, her heart pounding in her chest- she genuinely felt like she was going to pass out from rage. She whipped her head toward Tommy, her gaze sharp with fury.

“You’re gonna let him talk to me like that?”

Tommy’s jaw tightened, and his eyes softened just a fraction. He lowered his voice, like he was trying to calm the storm brewing inside her.

“Look—do this for me, and I won’t take a cut out of your payment ever again.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered over his face, her anger simmering down just enough to process his words. No cut? That would make a huge difference. The weight of the decision settled into her chest. She let out a long sigh, her body trembling with the frustration of it all.

“Fine.”

“Great. Now get up there.”

Rafe watched with a knowing grin, his eyes never leaving her as she reluctantly made her way to the pole. She could feel the heat in the room, the music vibrating in her veins, but the irritation still pulsed through her every movement. Her fingers wrapped around the pole which was cool against her hot palms, and with one fluid motion, she spun herself around it- her body a controlled chaos. The lights reflected off her skin as she danced, each move a mix of anger and seduction, trying to drown out the growing tension inside her chest.

Rafe leaned back in the booth with Barry now. He watched her every move, the smirk never fading from his face. Barry let out a low whistle, nudging him. Rafe slapped his arm, as if to shake off the tension of the moment, before yelling out over the music, his voice loud and clear:

“Shake your ass like you mean it!”

Y/N’s eyes shot up, meeting his for a brief second, the rage in them burning hotter than before. She tried to block him out, focusing on her routine, but his words dug into her, fueling the anger that she kept buried deep. Her body flowed into the next move, a slow, deliberate drop to her knees her back arching, her gaze never leaving Rafe’s as she pushed her hips up, challenging. Then, with a slow, deliberate crawl, she made her way toward the end of the small stage where they sat. Each step was calculated, her body close to the floor, her hips swaying with a rhythm that seemed to pierce right through him.

The whole time, she didn’t look away, not once breaking the eye contact- she refused to let him think she cowers under his glare.

Rafe’s hand tightened around his beer bottle, his focus locked on her. He couldn’t help but sit forward, leaning in slightly, the raw intensity of her stare pulling him in. His fingers gripped the neck of the bottle, almost white-knuckled, before he took a slow sip, as though the action could calm this sudden heat inside him.

It didn’t.

Y/N didn’t break eye contact. Her body felt on fire, the music in her bones, the anger in her veins. She reached the edge of the stage and paused, just a foot or two away from Rafe, her chest rising and falling with every breath, her muscles aching but refusing to give in as she ran her hands down her body. His smirk faltered for just a second before it returned, but it wasn’t the same. There was a flicker of something else in his eyes now.

“My private little dancer hmmm?”

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

The sun hung high, casting a golden glow over the beach as the Y/n and Pogues basked in the warmth of one of the rare days off she had. The ocean shimmered in the distance, the waves rolling in lazily against the shore and all of them were lounging around, enjoying the moment of peace. Pope, ever the thoughtful one, sat up and glanced over at the girl,

“So, how’s your job going, Y/N?”

He asked, his voice casual but curious and Y/N shot him a look, raising an eyebrow.

“Jesus Pope- stay in school man”

She teased, shaking her head. The group burst into laughter, and even Pope couldn’t help but crack a smile at her response. Sarah, still amused, chimed in, “Is it that bad?” Y/N groaned dramatically, rolling over onto her stomach and propping herself up on her elbows to look at the blonde haired girl,

“I’m serving kooks all day, getting yelled at if I bring them a steak at the wrong temperature, if their lemon slice is on the wrong side of the plate… It's just- it’s shit.”

John B and Cleo laughed again, yet she found the others nodding sympathetically. Kiara, who had been humming to herself while watching the waves, looked over at JJ with a playful glint in her eye.

“You should get a job Jayje” she clawed out to the boy who was wading through the water, her voice teasing. JJ groaned and threw a hand up in the air. “Not you too,” he replied dramatically. Y/N’s eyes lit up as she sat up, a smile tugging at her lips.

“Thank you, Kie! Someone else here who has common sense.”

Kiara grinned, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “It’s not that hard JJ,” she joked. JJ shook his head, muttering under his breath, but there was a playful glint in his eye as he watched the gang, clearly enjoying the lighthearted moment. Y/N leaned back, soaking in the easy banter and warmth of the sun. John B stretched out on his towel, a relaxed smile on his face as he glanced over at Y/N.

“It’s nice you could join us though.”

“Thanks JB”

She responded, her voice light as she let out a small hum, resting her head on her folded arms and giving him a grateful look. Just then, JJ, hair still dripping from having left the water moments prior, bounded over and flopped down on top of her, his back sprawling out across hers like a human blanket.

“Jeez, JJ!”

Y/N exclaimed, nearly knocking the wind out of herself under his weight. “Uh, rude?” JJ grinned, his cheek pressed into the sand as he looked up at her.

“You’re heavy as hell, J”

She shot back, trying to wiggle out from under him. The rest of the group laughed, with Cleo shaking her head. “You’re a big back rude boy.” she teased. JJ immediately shot her a look. “Yo- shut up…” he grumbled, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. The atmosphere was easy and familiar. JJ shifted his weight slightly, settling more comfortably. He looked out over the ocean for a moment before his tone shifted.

“I miss this”

He said, his voice quieter now, almost like a confession. Y/N turned her head just enough to catch his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

He let out a small sigh, his gaze lingering on the others for a moment before meeting hers, “You’re just busy all the time.”

“I know J, I know.”

Y/N nodded, the weight of her words settling between them as she spoke. JJ huffed softly, clearly trying to hold back some frustration.

“Yeah, but—”

“I’m doing it for you, yeah? You’re my brother, J. I’d do anything for you.”

She cut him off, her voice soft but firm, JJ’s eyes softened at that, but before he could respond, his stomach gave a loud rumble cutting him off mid-sentence. Y/N couldn’t help but let out a small laugh of disbelief. “Hungry much?” she teased, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Shut up much?”

JJ groaned, but his stomach gave another loud growl, making everyone laugh. “Let me go get you something to eat,” she offered, already starting to rise. But JJ wasn’t having it. He reached out and grabbed her arm before she could get up, holding her in place.

“Okay, okay, let go”

She said, trying to wiggle free. He just squeezed her tighter, pressing his body closer to hers in a hug. Y/N patted his back sweetly before she let out an exaggerated groan.

“Ew, Jay, you’re all sweaty!”

Y/N stood in line at the food truck, the warm sun still casting its golden light over the beach as the waves crashed nearby. She couldn’t resist—her favourite fish tacos were the perfect treat, and she’d ordered enough for the whole group. She was balancing her drink in one hand while she fumbled with her phone, checking to make sure everyone had their orders right. Then, just as she was waiting to pick up the food, she heard that familiar voice behind her.

“That’s a lot of food for one person, Maybank” Rafe said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He eyed the stack of boxes she was waiting for, a smug smirk on his face.

“Sure you can afford all that? Or do you need me to front you a little cash?”

“I can fucking afford to feed myself, you asshole.”

Y/N didn’t even turn around at first, knowing exactly who it was and she shot back without missing a beat. Rafe tutted at her attitude, clearly amused. He stepped closer, his presence still as commanding as ever. “Careful,” he warned, his voice dropping just a notch.

“I could always let your little secret slip, you know? Wouldn’t want your brother finding out how you’re really making money.”

Her stomach twisted, but she didn’t let him see it. She turned to face him, her eyes narrowing. “You wouldn't dare” He just leaned in a little, his smirk widening. “Oh I would,” he said, his voice low, teasing.

“Ruin your perfect little world, wouldn’t I?”

As Y/N stood at the food truck, Rafe’s smug grin never left his face as he stared at her, clearly enjoying the quiet torment no one else had taken notice of. But as they exchanged words, JJ, who had just been chatting with the others, saw the two of them. His eyes narrowed, and a surge of protective instinct kicked in. He took a step forward, moving toward them with purpose.

“You got a problem Cameron?"

JJ muttered, his gaze darting between Y/N and Rafe, his jaw tight. Y/N quickly stepped between them, placing a hand on JJ’s chest to stop him from taking another step- she knew how impulsive her brother could be.

“Jay, let it go”

She said firmly, her tone not leaving room for argument. Rafe just watched, the smug smirk on his face growing wider as he looked Y/N up and down folding his arms. His eyes held a silent warning, the kind that said ‘I’ve got you and there's nothing you can do’ without speaking it aloud. JJ didn’t take his eyes off Rafe, but with a sigh, he let Y/N push him back. He mumbled under his breath,

“You’re lucky she’s here.”

“Oh you bet”

Once she’d pulled her brother away from Rafe and they were on their way back to the group, tacos in hand, JJ couldn’t help but throw a question out. He looked over at Y/N with a raised eyebrow, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.

“Since when do you listen to what Rafe says?”

Y/N just takes a slow bite of her taco, trying to ignore the question. The food tasted like cardboard in her mouth as she chewed slowly, her mind racing.

“Just… leave it Jay.”

Her voice is tired, and JJ can see the exhaustion behind her eyes. He’s about to press her again when he catches the look on her face- a mix of frustration, anger, and something else… something he can’t quite figure out. He lets it go, but his mind is still buzzing. He knows she’s hiding something from him- and he can’t deny that it pisses him off. She’s his older sister. She’s always been the strong one, they’ve always stuck together. So why won’t she tell him what’s going on with her…?

As JJ dropped the subject, Y/N let out a quiet breath she didn’t even realize she’d been holding. But the heaviness didn't lift. She couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt- and all of it was tied to Rafe. She hated herself for letting it get this far but she couldn't let JJ get involved in it, not yet.

Not ever.

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