#it's a really bad sign when you feel you have to lie about how much sleep you get and even if you exaggerate the number of hours you get

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹。take my time (i’ll spend it all on you) | gojo satoru

wc: 1.6k

summary: gojo sees you in lingerie for the first time. 

contains: f!reader, suggestive almost nsfw (they make out… maybe a bit steamy), 18+ just in case, reader is in lingerie, shy feelings!! gojo down bad!!

a/n: i hc that the first time gojo sees you in lingerie, it’s like seeing you walk down the aisle—he’s a bit sappy like that! i also think that he’d love seeing his lover in pink! idk! it’s just the vibes! (col reader would look cute in pink too i think hehe complements the personality!); takes place later on, around col #4 (wip)

collection masterlist: conversations on love 3.5b. —will i ever bring you peace? <- you are here -> +04b (extra). if you're ready (let me) + 04. these traces of love, they outline you

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

There are few things in life that have earned Gojo’s double take: 

A sign for a newly-opened gelato shop with ‘exclusive flavors for the first 30 customers!’ written in fine print; Megumi, back in middle school, being confessed to with a sweetly handcrafted box of chocolates for Valentine’s Day; a small cut, right at the tip of his nose from that time you sparred with him and he let you get too close (or so he says). 

And now you. 

In something pink—

—that if he backtracks just a bit, steps one foot behind the other to glance again at the space left open by the bedroom door, and squints—

He’s certain, 200% sure. 

It’s lingerie. 

He blinks once, twice, rubs at his eyes even as his mind attempts to catch up to whatever it is–you–he just saw. This must be what wires feel when they short circuit. 

You know he’s home, right? You have to, you just told him to rinse the dishes after snacking.

And he was in the middle of doing that—walking across your apartment from couch to kitchen, stopping only to do a double take at the sight of pink in his periphery, at you, once he looked again, clearly. 

Or were you doing this on purpose? Did you want him to see you? 

He gulps, warmth spreading from the tips of his ears down to his neck, lingering. 

There’s only one way to find out, really. 

He walks down the hallway leading to the bedroom, keeping his footsteps light so as to not startle you.

If he’s being honest right now, his mind is full to the point of feeling empty—too many thoughts swirling around the fact that behind this very door, he’s about to find you in pink lingerie. 

And when he takes a deep breath, fingertips pushing on wood very slightly as he calls out, “Bab—“

“S’toru!” you squeal from the other side, panicked as you instantly push it back closed.

So you didn’t do it on purpose. 

“Sorry, give me a minute!” you call out, and he can hear your footsteps from the other side, frantically walking around for what he can assume is you looking for something to cover yourself with. 

But he doesn’t want that. 

Not when he already has the visual of you, pretty in what he suspects is pink lace.

Not when the way you said ‘S’toru’ sounded so much like ‘‘Toru’, your ‘‘Toru’, the way you usually say it pressed against bed sheets, under him, expression blissed out from—

Do you have any idea what that does to him? 

“Are you wearing lingerie?” 

You freeze. Gojo can tell from the other side of the door, and you think, damn it, because he isn’t supposed to know you bought a set, much less see you in it. Not yet. 

You could try to lie, but Gojo always sees through you, through every change in inflection, the way your eyebrow twitches before speaking. 

“Can I come in?” he asks softly, almost hesitantly. 

How can you possibly resist him when he speaks to you like this? Asking permission as if this space you live in isn’t as much his?

You sigh, flustered at being caught this way, “Can you close your eyes first?” 

He follows, laying one hand over his eyes for good measure before knocking on the door. You open it slowly, wood creaking as he steps inside. 

You feel a little naked right now despite how he isn’t even looking your way, opting to face the side opposite from where you’re standing. It’s on purpose, you know, he can tell where you are—Six Eyes and all. 

There’s a smile that he’s hiding, biting his lower lip to stop it from showing. His toes are wiggling from the excitement coursing through him.

You know Gojo will like you in anything; in fact, he’s made it very clear that he prefers you in nothing—but still. Your stomach feels queasy and you can’t get rid of how nervous you’re feeling. 

And you guess, it’s really just because this was meant to be a surprise for him—the design you’ve chosen, how it looks on your body, how it looks to him, especially. You’d ordered the lingerie set months in advance to leave a lot of time for returns, whether it turned out ill-fitting or just unflattering.

You didn’t expect him to catch a glimpse of it now, months before his birthday, before you were even ready. 

“I’m waiting…” he teases, voice sing-song in that way he usually does to annoy you. It always makes you smile though, and it’s an odd form of comforting with how it dulls your jitters right now, just a little bit.

“Okay, you can look.” 

As soon as he turns, you squeeze your eyes shut, hands on your sides as you fiddle with your fingernails. Seeing, knowing his reaction in real time is still nervewracking, regardless of every reassurance you tell yourself—because, what if this is the off-chance that you’re wrong, and he doesn’t like it? 

Or worse: what if he has to pretend he likes it?

You frown a bit—it doesn’t help at all that Gojo isn’t saying anything.

But—

How can he, when there are no words, no adjectives, no possible descriptions to articulate what he’s seeing—what he’s feeling?

If he didn’t die then, in every instance he’s brushed with death: by Toji’s hands, locked up inside that box, in that final moment with Sukuna, nearly halved—

He thinks he might have just died right now. 

Because this? You? In lingerie as pink as all he’s feeling—his cheeks, his nose, flushing down his neck, maybe even his chest if it were exposed. 

It’s heaven. 

You’re a sight. 

While Gojo has certainly seen you in much less, and done with you things much more than just stand with you like this, he’s never seen you in lingerie.

And you’re so pretty. Sexy. All his, he can’t believe it.   

He’s noticing all the little details on it–on you–its shade, almost salmon with a bit of baby pink; its material: sheer net as the base for everything—it’s practically see-through save for the delicate floral lace running across the bra cups and panty front.

The set itself is nice, sure, but he knows he only likes it this much because it’s on you. And he knows he’ll always like anything on you. 

The heat in his stomach is building, spreading, to the single part of him that—

“Is it that bad?” you scrunch your nose, eyes still closed. He looks at you confused, before he realizes: he hasn’t said anything.

He chuckles and you open your eyes, pouting. 

And God, he wishes you didn’t do that. That look on your face—what it does to him.

“I ordered it in advance for your birthday,” you start, pout deepening as you ramble on, “it was supposed to be a surprise, but if you don’t like it, I can still–” 

That’s enough. 

He can’t believe that you actually think he doesn’t like it. 

Gojo steps into your space, close enough to grab you by the waist as his other hand reaches up to slot itself in the area between your ear and your jawline, tilting your head up slightly as he leans in to kiss you. 

It’s rushed at first, almost desperate—hungry, the way he releases his breath only to take you in; your lips, soft in the way he knows them to be, his hand on your waist squeezing. Your fingertips trail to his cheek, almost cupping as his kisses turn deeper, more languid, lips moving against yours slowly, savoring. 

Gojo is a fast learner, and he shows it best in the way he kisses you, as if he’s memorized every way to build that familiar heat within you. You lay your other hand against his chest, gripping at the fabric of his t-shirt as he pulls you closer. 

You bite his lip and suck, just a little bit, the way he likes it, and he moans, lowly, vibrations rippling through your mouth as he holds you steady. He’s hard already; you can feel it pressing against your lower belly. 

And you realize, as a small laugh tears itself away from you, how ridiculous it was for you to even worry. 

You break the kiss, leaning your forehead against his as you keep your noses touching. It’s impossible to tell how Gojo looks, but you have a hunch with how he’s breathing so heavily; the skies in his eyes must be darker, almost gray, turned on by desire—the same one settling deep in your stomach, aching, needy. 

“It’s perfect,” he whispers, lips grazing yours. He traces hearts by your shoulder, something born out of the many times you’ve lain in bed together, playing with the strap of your bra before pulling, a short snap! as he lets go. 

“You like it?” you whisper back, a lilt in your tone, teasing. Your fingers come up to trace his lips and he holds them in place, nipping. 

“Mhm,” he grins, smoothing his hand over the lace details on your bra, his thumb rubbing, “so pretty.” 

He leans in again, a small peck, before asking, “Does this mean I can get my gift now?” 

You laugh, hitting his chest, “It’s not your birthday yet!” 

“Yeah, but what is time anyway?” 

And you know, with the way he’s trailing kisses down your neck, licking and sucking—you’re going to have to find another thing to surprise him with on his birthday. 

.

Later that evening, with your head lying right on his chest, you remember. 

“Oh yeah, the set also came with one of those belt things. Garter, I think? But I wasn’t sure if you’d be into–” 

You’ve never seen Gojo get up from bed faster.

thank you notes: for that anon that asked about whether col reader wears lingerie! + @stellamancer @soumies @crysugu for validating me that pink is in fact col reader's colour ᰔ i also just luv u guys 🥺

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[drdemonprince]

In a piece for The New Inquiry from back in 2017, George Dust states that when queer people complain about there being a top shortage, what they really mean is “nobody is fucking me the way I want, and I have no agency in that.” Alongside co-authors Billy-Ray Belcourt and Kay Gabriel, Dust suggests that many queer people align themselves with a passive or “bottom” position because they believe that role will absolve them of the guilt of really wanting things. They present themselves as what they believe to be the sexual party with zero power; the receiver, the accepter of action rather than its cause.

This position is drawn in contrast to the bottom-identified person’s idea of a top: the one who approaches, the person with hungers and desires, the person who decides which sexual activities will happen and how intense they will get. The top, from this perspective, is the stronger, more capable, more dangerous person. They’re the only one who can ever be guilty of intruding or harming somebody else. This power is scary, but it’s also compelling.

Dust calls this fantastical version of a top a “brute” — and they are the most cartoonish stereotype of what it means in society to be a man. Because it’s a cartoonish stereotype, no human actually lives up to it — and we’d probably revile a person even if they could.

Though queer people know we are harmed by the gender binary and heteronormativity and all the social scripts those things force upon us, its biases are still embossed on our brains. Without meaning to, we reproduce tired gender stereotypes in our relationships. And so we see expressing a sexual want as masculine, and being masculine as being more capable of violence and coercive control, and thus bad. We see failing to communicate one’s desires openly as desirably feminine, as well as a sign of blamelessness and purity — because on some level we still feel it is wrong to have desires.

But this entire worldview is a complete lie. Desire is not evil. Expressing attraction is not a violation. Failing to express oneself can be just as dangerous as not listening to someone else’s limits. Women can be abusive. Bottoms can sexually assault. No matter our gender, presentation, or sexual role, we are each capable of harm. And the only way to make a safe, mutually pleasurable sexual encounter happen is by going after it, actively, and communicating from a position of inner strength.

So how do you do that, if society’s been telling you all your life that you’re meant to date by acting like a deer passively snapping twigs in the woods, waiting for some hunter to hear you, and pursue you? (That really is dating advice that Evangelical Christian counselors give to women, if you can believe it).

By not fixating so much on what you’re doing or not doing to draw other people toward you, and instead thinking in terms of what you want and what you observe beyond yourself.

[natewriteslol]

Delicious In Dungeon Having a Crush on You HC's!

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:

Summary: Just like the title says, how they would act if they had a crush on you including how you find out!

Pt.2 w Kabru, Shuro and Falin!

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ ☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*°☆.。.:*

Senshi:

-I'm not going to lie it is going to take a fat minute for him to fess up his feelings for you let alone for people to notice because it is the little things that stand out.

-Senshi is really good at keeping secrets and is a really private person and fights for his peace

-So what if he may slip a little bit more food onto your plate, make your favorite dishes only for you if the ingredients for it just so happens to be in his bag, is always the first person to get you out of a dangerous situation? It's all out of convenience and being kind

-But his lack of casualty is also really telling like when giving out compliments he sometimes has a tinge of shyness to his voice, "You look...very nice y-yes"

-The way you find out he has a crush on you is because he eventually comes to a realization that he cannot keep running away from his problems because that has never ended in anything good and confesses his feelings for you

-It happened whilst everyone was asleep and it was just you two alone by the fire, the embers were crackling and you always enjoyed watching it ablaze while talking with Senshi. Eventually he piped up after staying silent for so long and having you take the lead in talking,

"I don't mean to corner you, nor do I expect you to feel the same but...I have feelings for you, genuinely Y/N. And, meeting you in this party means the world to me as in a way you all are unique treasures but you. I couldn't imagine just walking away without letting you know how much you mean to me."

-Honestly, Senshi is one of the least in denial about this predicament with his feelings and will come to you sooner

Marcille:

-A person who completely avoids her feelings for you like the plague and will deny like her life depends on it

-She swears to others that it's just because you're an amazing friend!

-She brings you your favorite sweet treats, offers to cast magic for your slightest inconveniences, she just so happens to bring books that are about the things you mentioned one off or are a specific interest you love

-The contrast of how she treats others vs. You is so jarring and it's really obvious that she has a crush on you. She is really protective and a bit possessive (not in a weird way) over you and she does not really care about the other people in her party like that

-Anytime she's afraid of something, she holds onto you, Marcille is VERY touchy with her crush

-The blonde blushes pretty consistently and is really shy when it comes to you and tries to appear nonchalant but fails miserably

-It's honestly so bad that even Laios caught on after Senshi threw him a clue and one time when it was just him asked her, which resulted in her coming clean and being VERY distressed as if she committed a crime

-The way you find out she has a crush on you is when you're on a mission in a dungeon. She was near a weeping willow exerting mana, rumored to grant wishes to anyone who asks.

-She held a piece of paper and was on her knees, looking up at the grand tree on the soft blades of grass. She began speaking to the tree once you silently walked in through the cave hole to check on her and the half-elf was completely unknowing of your intrusion,

-"Please they're the love of my life, and I'm not asking to force them but maybe...show me a sign if they like me back. They make me feel like no other and I am just so confused and I need guidance, Ancient Willow."

Chilchuck:

-Deny. Deny. Deny. Deny.

-Oh, and did I say deny

-He absolutely hates being the person caught with egg on his face and being in the wrong, so the fact that he himself Mr. 'No Party Romances' violated his own rules?

-He wants to fall into a hole right on the spot

-While he is a grown ass man and doesn't want to be a coward, Chilchuck doesn't want to face this problem head on surprisingly (sarcasm)

-He shows his love for you by trying to keep you the safe the most out of everyone in the party, scolds you HEAVILY when you mess up that could've cost you your life

-Some may say that it's just Chilchuck's explosive nature, Senshi was actually the first to see through it and grow suspicion over his behavior but honestly didn't have enough evidence for his theory and was shot down by Laios and Marcille

-It's not extremely obvious his slight shift in treatment until you had been kidnapped by the Chain Devil to protect Chilchuck from it's clutches

-And multiple times have members of the party have been kidnapped and although shaken he was able to keep his cool...but this time it was heavily different

-He let out a horrified scream that they had never heard from the Half-Foot before. He scrambled to his feet after watching you getting pulled into the darkness, his eyes were glassy and full of panic as he asked the rest on what they should do

-When they get you back, you were too tired to really stand so you laid in the sleeping bag as everyone else slept as well, but the brown haired man never left your side and watched as you slept

-...or so he thought

-You find out about his true feelings as you laid in your sleeping bag. As you were drifting in and out consciousness but felt light weight on the side of your body and Chilchuck began to talk to you, asking if you were awake

-"Good, you're fast asleep...I hope you know that I'm not hard on you because I don't like you that's...not even close to the truth.

I love you, so much and...I get so damn scared for you."

Laios:

-Constant. Monster. Facts.

-One of the things that makes Laios so attracted to you is that you listen and like when he nerds out so please be prepared. You're a safe space to spew out knowledge and it means the world to him

-Consistently gives you small little gifts, but then sometimes gifts to the others so it doesn't look suspicious. Maybe it was something with the light but, the look in his eye as he gave you the bracelet and put it on you was so different.

-Usually doesn't care about other people being in a towels or shirtless, but when it's you he feels like a victorian man seeing an ankle for the first time. When he sees your collar bones and he tries to keep it very lokwey, but is highkey blushing

-Gives you some sketches of your favorite creatures, always "accidentally" makes your favorite dish for dinner nights, pouts a little when you need to be gone without him for a little

-If you're ever feeling insecure he might open his gob a little too much, "I get maybe why you'd feel that way but, if you ask me I think it's pretty hot" he says with a blank, enthusiastic smile on his face not at all understanding how that could come off

-You find out that the knight has a crush on you the first time he gets absolutely hammered with Senshi, Chilchuck as he was convinced by the two to get drunk

-The bar was packed in one of the "safe spaces" in town and you and Marcille were kinda the designated sober people within your party, and whilst the half elf was in the bathroom you decided to get some fresh air and got up from the stool seat

-"Whatcha' doing party is jus' getting started?" Laios asks

-You shot him a look over the shoulder and responded softly, "I need some fresh air hun, I'll be right back."

-And there went his inner dialogue. Out his mouth.

-"Woah, how sexy. Being in love really sucks sometimes since I'd really do tricks like a dog to be with them good god."

-The look you gave dobered him almost completely, and if that wasn't enough Marcille was right behind him and heard every word

-Love is cringe but he is free I guess.

Part Two:Kabru, Shuro and Falin!

[aeraminth]

nsfw - 1.1k dry humping as his arm gets repaired // the first time you saw caleb’s robotic arm, you couldn’t help but feel anger towards the people who forced him through such a horrible and traumatic experience. it took weeks, if not months, of caleb’s reassurance and tending to your concerns to finally soften your anger towards it. to you, it’s a reminder of what changed him—a reminder to you of the person he is now.

but, you can’t lie and say his repairs don’t leave a trail of curiosity in their wake whenever you watch.

now, instead of pushing you away like he did initially, caleb lets you stay around, seeing him with his guard down and with all the vulnerabilities of the world plastered on his disposition. you hurt just as bad when he does, wincing alongside him when he lets out another pained sound slip during a repair.

“caleb,” you cough from behind him. he bites his tongue, having resigned himself to accepting your advances, when time and time again he knows he can’t refuse you.

“not so bad the more you see it, right?” he tries, but the muscles on his back are taut and a light layer of sheen covers his exposed upper half. despite the wave of pain that courses through his body, caleb still stays playful, trying to show you the best version of himself at all times.

is it so wrong to say he leaves your core pulsing with need? his bionic arm continues to fizzle, and the screen reads that he has another five minutes of scanning before he can finally feel better.

“it’s okay, i’ve got you,” you console, sliding right by his side and wrapping his left arm around your shoulder. “just a bit longer.”

“thanks, pip-squeak. but really—i promise—“ a long, drawn out groan betrays him as he turns away, the crackle of electricity to your left a clear sign that his repairs have hit a weak spot. “i promise—“ he breathes out, “i’ll be okay. this won’t happen again.”

staring at caleb, a sudden prickle of anger slowly rises within you, and you reach for his chin to make eye contact. you need to be as close to him as possible, and with a swift movement, you’re on caleb’s lap, forcing him to slightly look up at you with a hand cradling his jaw. his left hand reaches for your thigh, helping you adjust your position as his touch lingers on your exposed skin.

the material of his pants and his belt against your bare legs are rough, and only wearing the t-shirt you’ve taken from caleb’s closet doesn’t stop the thin material of your panties from rubbing against him. his breath hitches, and he takes a long sigh, his eyes never leaving yours as you force him to continue holding eye contact. his focus us completely torn away from the screen that quietly beeps and flickers; all he’s thinking about is how’d you react if the hand on your thigh trailed up to the cotton waistband of your panties instead—how, there are much better things to do in this position than simply talk.

your gaze is filled with hurt, fixed on his mechanical arm. “you’ve never broken a promise to me—i don’t need you to tell me you’ll be okay when everything else right now obviously isn’t,” you murmur.

subconsciously, the trailing touch of your fingertips up and down his left bicep leave him straining against your heat and gritting his teeth for different reasons. rarely do you succeed in telling him off, but you know how to hit him when he’s weak, with your exposed collarbone adorned with a hickey his gazed has zeroed in on, and the feeling of your warm heat snug against his dick, no matter how many layers in between. “don’t lie to me, caleb—not about this. you don’t need to.” you stare at the screen before a subtle movement breaks your gaze.

caleb only slightly rolls his hips against yours, suddenly searching for relief in a silent apology; he hears you completely, but the back of his mind has just been filled with the carnal need to feel more of you. he ruts against your clothed cunt once more, his eyes begging for forgiveness as his left hand reaches for the small of your back.

“please, princess. i’m sorry,” caleb’s eyes shine with sincerity and lust all in one go, your concern for him lighting a fire that only you can put out. you don’t even remember what you were scolding him for—all rational slipping away.

you’re basically soaked through your panties as your anger dissolves, meeting his desperate attempts for pleasure as his repair fades into the background. he shifts his hips once more, and satiates the desire you’ve been wanting to explore for so long.

“fuck,” he whispers, his voice gravelly, and you can’t tell if it’s from the wires that his arm is attached to, or if he can feel your heat through your garments. he lets out a low moan when your clit bumps into his cock again, losing all restraint before muttering, “want you.”

you can’t resist him, grinding against his dick harder abd whimpering right in his ear. it’s like you’re possessed, or caleb’s hand keeps you going, because you can’t find it in you to stop keeping him as close to your skin as possible. but in your chase for pleasure, neither of you bother to forego your clothes, and the you continue like a madman, rubbing on his bulge as the pain in his right arm barely matters to him anymore.

caleb doesn’t bother to be subtle about it either, bucking his hips while trying to keep his right arm on the bed, chasing his high while obscenities tumble from his lips.

“shouldn’t have lied to you—fuck—i need you so bad, baby,” his hand travels up your back, silently begging for a kiss. your core burns with both a delicious friction and so much desperation that you reach for his hair, pulling slightly at caleb’s roots as you whimper in his ear how badly you need to come. it only spurs him on to be even dirtier, pushing you down onto him impossibly closer, as if he was fucking up into you.

“come all over my fucking pants like a dirty slut, hm? you want it, you want me to come in my pants for you?” you whine at his degradation, your hips stilling as you clench around nothing and leave such a wet mess on his pants.

repair completed.

but when he tells you to take off his pants—part of his uniform—who are you to disobey your colonel’s orders?

i feel insane he's like so fine i'm going to retreat and write sylus and caleb fluff now

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ ｓｗｅｅｔ ｎｏｔｈｉｎｇ ♡

♡ Pairing: tattoo artist!ex boyfriend!chan x chubby!fem!tattoo artist!reader, best friend!stray kids

♡ Genre: angst/smut/fluff

♡ Summary: After a year abroad spent perfecting your craft, you decide to return to the shop that you started at to reconnect with the people you love but how will your friends react to your sudden return? And how will your ex feel when he finds out your back in town attempting to reclaim your place in his shop and maybe even his heart?

♡ Word Count: 5.8k-ish

♡ Warnings: chan's really down bad for you and the littlest bit posessive, strong language, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, male masturbation, creampie, oral sex (m&f receiving), overstimulation, a lil nipple play, orgasm control if you squint, pet names (beautiful, pretty, baby), a lil hair pulling, and that's about it.

♡ A/N: So somehow I've written myself into a series of sorts all taking place in one tattoo shop. Seungmin's here if you'd like to read it. I'll for sure be doing one for all of the boys because why not? This one's a lot more angsty than the other one but I had a nice time writing something different so, as always, I hope you enjoy it, babes.

You stand with your back to the night, casting your starry eyed gaze upon the soft white glow of the neon sign that hangs overhead. It reads Social Path Tattoos & Piercings. This place isn’t new to you, even if the nerves rattling through your system might imply otherwise.

You’re more than familiar with it. You used to spend every waking moment in this place. Even slept here a couple times when you were a bit too tipsy to drive. And coming back to it after a year overseas is surreal. You dreamed of this a thousand times before finally biting the bullet and hopping on the next plane back here. Back home. 

You made it. Through the chaos of the airport, racing through crowds to make it to the Uber you may have called a little too soon. Through an hour of bumper to bumper traffic, listening to your driver give you dating advice you definitely didn’t ask for. Through a hell of a check in process at the hotel and lugging half your life up to the 8th floor of the lavish building.

You survived all of that to make it to this moment and you can’t even bring yourself to step inside. What if you aren’t welcome? What if the men you once called “family” consider you nothing more than a stranger now? It’s only been a year but so much has happened. There were so many tears the day you left, so much sadness—so much anger. Maybe you should’ve stayed away.

“Next time you have to get one. I’m telling you, it didn’t hurt at all” a tall girl with a septum piercing tells her friend as they exit the shop. 

The shorter girl by her side stares at the fresh tattoo on her friend’s arm with equal amounts admiration and fear. “Liar. It’s needles stabbing through your skin. There’s no way that doesn’t hurt.”

Noticing the tattoos peeking out of your strappy crop top, the taller girl turns to you for some back up. “Tell her it doesn’t hurt,” she pouts. 

In all your years as a tattoo artist you’ve never once lied to a client but you aren’t on the clock right now and can’t bring yourself to kill whatever glimmer of hope this girl might have of winning her friend over. 

“It doesn’t hurt” you lie to her friend, knowing damn well that, while it isn’t torture, it’s far from painless. “It might sting a little but you’re tough. I can tell. You’ve got it.”

“Thank you” the tall girl smiles, holding the door open for you. “Headed in?” 

“Uh…” you hesitate, chewing at your inner lip. There’s so much weight to that question. A weight she can’t possibly fathom. Swallowing your pride, you give her a smile and a nod, slipping into the shop. 

“Have a good night!” the girls say kindly, going about their night and abandoning you in the doorway. 

Breathing in deep, you take a few more steps before stopping to take in the scene around you. The shop is as alive as it's ever been, the lobby buzzing with customers busy picking out jewelry or waiting their turn to be seen.

The front desk is still straight ahead, marked by a small statue of an orange cat named Cheese. It’d been Minho’s idea to get it when you all went on a drunken flea market adventure and none of you were sober enough to shoot him down. The walls are still adorned with elegant, hand painted art courtesy of Hyunjin, the best photo realistic artist in the shop. The city even. 

The checkered floors are the same, an expertly polished black and white patchwork to match the charcoal color of the walls. Even the couch you bought in from your apartment is still positioned in the corner where a bunch of college kids are currently lounging. A lot has happened on that couch. A lot more than they know. God you hope the boys have cleaned it.

Everything is just as you remember it but the energy’s something new entirely. It’s the contradiction of finding familiarity on an alien planet. 

“You need something, babe?” the bubbly girl at the counter asks, waving you over. This is new. They used to force you to work the front desk on weekends, the guys alternating weekdays based on whoever lost at rock, paper, scissors. But now there’s a new face. She seems sweet though so you make your way over to her. At least one person’s happy to see you. 

“Yes but no but yes? I guess” you ramble, indecision painted all over your face. Observing your appearance she doesn’t take you as the kind of girl to be hesitant about what she came to a place like this for but she comforts you nonetheless. 

“It’s okay” she says, reaching out a sympathetic hand to touch yours, “Everyone gets nervous sometimes. I mean, I work here and even I almost freaked when I got my bellybutton pierced but it’s okay. You know what you wanna get done?”

“Actually, I’m not here to get anything done. I used to work here a long time ago and I just thought I’d drop by and see…”

“You’re fucking joking” a voice from your past interrupts. Before you even turn to look, you know exactly who that voice belongs to. Seungmin. 

“It can’t be. I’m hallucinating” he gasps, clutching his chest. “A ghost? In our shop?”

You roll your eyes at the dramatics. You’ve missed them. “A ghost? Am I dead now? Is that what you consider me?” you sniffle, pretending to cry. 

“Oh, my god. Stop it. Come here” he says, smiling bigger than you’ve ever seen. He throws his arms around you, squeezing you into the tightest hug. In an instant it melts away your worries of not being welcome here. This is the warmest you’ve ever seen Seungmin greet someone and you feel special for being the recipient. 

“Squeeze me any tighter and I will be a ghost” you tease, pulling back the slightest bit to get some air. As you do you notice something new on his face. “When did this happen?” You marvel at the shiny silver jewelry decorating his eyebrow. 

“You hate it don’t you?”

“Ssh, I don’t hate it. I like it. It’s cute.”

Seungmin blushes, rubbing his cheeks in a failed attempt to hide it. Out of the corner of your eye you catch the girl at the counter staring daggers through Seungmin’s soul. It’s easy to see that there’s something going on here and she doesn’t like him blushing over other girls. 

“Ooh, someone’s got a girlfriend” you sing and the counter girl giggles. You can’t help but adore how sweet it is when Seungmin lights up at the sound of her laughter. But you can’t deny that it drags up bittersweet memories of when that was you and...

“Follow me. Everyone’s here tonight. I know they’ll be happy to see you” Seungmin says, ready to escape the lobby before his cheeks overheat from all the blushing. It’ll kill his reputation if the guys find out. He leads the way to the back, as if you need the guidance. You remember exactly where you’re going.

“So…” he sighs, feeling the weight of your return for the first time, “How was Japan?”

“Oh, it was wonderful. It’s beautiful over there and I learned so much from my apprenticeship. I was super nervous at first, you know? But everyone at the shop was…” You stop yourself short, fearful that your fond memories of your time there might come off as bragging. You may have had fun in Osaka but it still paled in comparison to the place you come from. 

Seungmin picks up on it, glancing back at you to give you a comforting smile, “Hey, it’s okay. I’m happy…we’re happy that you did what you needed to do. It’s nice to have you back though. You are back, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know. That depends on what he says. You know how he was when I left.”

Seungmin says nothing, only nods. He knows oh too well how his best friend was when you left. And those months after spent stewing in a bitterness that only thinly masked the pain of losing you. He watched it play out until the sting had faded but only enough to pretend that things were okay when they weren’t. 

“Yongbok, what’d you do with my kit?” Changbin shouts across the room, tearing his station apart in search of his prized possession. 

A few stations away a busy Felix rises from his chair, directing his client towards one of the full body mirrors in the corner. “Why are you yelling at me? I don’t have your kit!”

“I’m not talking to you! I’m talking to him!” Changbin points a finger at a shocked I.N who’s been innocently prepping for the next person in line.

“You called my name!” Felix snaps and it dawns on Changbin that he’s been calling the wrong person. 

Changbin fights himself not to laugh at his own mistake. He puts his head down, discovering his kit tucked away under his table. “Oh, I did, didn’t I?”

I.N querks an eyebrow at him, arms folded across his chest, “Why do you always do that? You can never call me the right name.”

“Because he’s old” Hyunjin mumbles under his breath, still loud enough for the others to hear. Changbin picks up a towel to throw at him but hesitates when he notices Hyunjin’s in the middle of a tattoo. 

“It’s okay, old man,” Han teases, patting his friend on the back. Hyunjin might be busy but Han on the other hand is free enough to invade his personal space so it’s a slap on the back of the head for him. 

“Can you guys be adults for a second? We have a guest” Seungmin announces but you hardly mind. This was what you missed while you were gone. No matter how kind the artists at the other shop were to you, they could never replace your boys. Even in their most chaotic moments there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. 

Seungmin’s voice draws all of the attention in the room to you and everyone falls silent. If there’s anything else they needed to say the thoughts have evaporated in your presence. It’s quiet for long enough that you begin to worry. Thoughts creep back in that maybe this wasn’t the best idea. Seungmin may have been happy to see you but the others?

Just as you begin to doubt yourself, the room erupts in cheers and you find yourself at the center of the world’s biggest group hug. Their joy overflows as arms wrap around you, one set swapping out for another and then another swiftly enough to leave you dizzy. 

“You’re back! Why didn’t you tell us? Ugh, I missed you” Han says, pinching your cheek in an act of cute aggression he simply cannot control. 

Felix hugs you so that his cheek is flush against yours, “You’re staying, right? You have to stay.” 

This is nothing that you expected it to be. You’re flooded with enough joy to make a girl cry and you can already feel the tears welling up, you’re right on the verge of it. A year of wondering if you’d made a mistake. A year of worrying that the people you loved hated you for your decision. All of those doubts are shedded in the arms of these seven men. 

“What’s all this noise?” Chan groans, his eyes barely open as he steps out of his office, “I was trying to sleep for once.”

“Sleep? Shouldn’t you be working?” I.N says, never one to miss an opportunity to be a smartass. 

Chan lets out a yawn, stretching those muscular arms you very vividly recall drooling over and on. “You’ll pay for that, kid. But seriously, what are you guys doing out here?” 

The guys step away, gesturing towards you and his arms drop to his sides. Suddenly he’s reminiscent of a balloon at the end of a party, melancholy and deflated. You watch the light in his eyes die in real time and it makes you sick to your stomach to be looked at this way. It wasn’t always like this. In the old days he’d have you in his arms right now, showering you in kisses. But these aren’t the old days, no matter how badly you wish it were. 

He starts in your direction, one slow, agonizing step of his black boots after another. He stops a few feet away from you as if some invisible barrier is keeping him at bay. His expression is hard as stone as he studies you like you’re a creature he’s never seen before. 

“Hi” you manage in spite of the sudden lack of moisture in your mouth. You get the sense that you’re on trial for some horrible crime and Chan, the judge that he is, has no intention of offering you leniency. 

“It’s really nice to see you. You look…good.” There’s such a softness in the way that you are with him. The wisp of a smile on your lips, the gentleness in your posture. You’re soft as a marshmallow for this man and the fire of his anger’s enough to burn you to a crisp. 

“Chan, don’t be…” Changbin tries to reach his best friend but Chan snatches away, sparing you one last glance before disappearing into his office.

The door slams hard enough that the hinges creak and the wood seems to splinter. The others? They don’t hate you. In fact, they adore you with all of their hearts. But him? You’re positive he does and now you want to cry again but for a different reason altogether.

Han pats you on the back, bringing you close to him, “I’m about to work on my sketch for my next client. Will you help me?”

“I don’t know, Jisung. It might be better if I go.”

“What? No! You just got here!” Hyunjin pouts, his bottom lip quivering. “You’re really gonna walk out and leave some poor soul at the hands of his drawing skills?”

Hyunjin’s attempt at making you laugh works like a charm and a giggle escapes you. 

“Does that mean you’ll stay?” he asks, poking his lip out even more. 

“Yes, that means I’ll stay.”

“Yay!” Han cheers, grabbing onto your hand and dragging you over to his station.

He hops right into it, spilling all of the details about the tattoo and asking your opinion on it. At first you struggle to focus on helping him. As much as you want to, you can’t shake the mental picture of how Chan looked at you. He didn’t say a word but he didn’t need to. He said everything he felt without so much as parting his lips. 

Periodically you find your gaze drifting over to his office door, the pit of your stomach twisted with the anxiety over his next appearance. But the door never opens, not even a crack, and before you know it you’re fully engrossed in helping Han work on his sketch. Your styles are different but he admires you as an artist and soaks in every drop of your input like a sponge. 

As the night rolls on you find yourself at one station after another, helping the guys with what you can. You slip right back into their group dynamic with ease. It’s as if your spot was always here waiting for you to hop right back in. It’s like you never left. The minutes melt into hours and you find yourself lingering behind with them far beyond closing time. 

“We’re all going out for drinks. You’re coming right?” Felix asks as you group filters out of the shop, filling up the space on the sidewalk. 

“Yes, she’s coming. She doesn’t have a choice!” I.N answers before you have a chance to. The boys have already begun moving towards their destination and he drapes an arm around your shoulder to make sure you keep up. 

“I’m coming” you laugh, tapping him on the back of the hand, “I do need to run back to my hotel and change first though.”

Changbin looks you up and down, finding not a single thing wrong with your current fit. “Why? You look beautiful.”

As flattered as you are, there’s no way you’re going out on the town in a crop top and a pair of sweatpants. You might not be planning on switching into a ballgown but a change of wardrobe is definitely in order. 

You bat your eyelashes, grateful for the compliment, “Sweet but no. I still need to change. Just text me where you’re going.” Reaching into your pocket for your phone, you realize you must’ve left it behind. “Shit, I left my phone.”

They all pause, prepared to turn back and help you find it. “We’ll just go back and grab it” Han insists but you shut him down, not wanting to delay their plans. 

“It’s okay, really. I’ll just grab my phone and I’ll meet you there in a few.”

I.N opens his mouth to protest but you throw a hand over it before he can speak. “I’m not a baby, you guys. I got it. I’ll be quick, I swear.”

Shared glances between the seven of them play out a silent conversation that you aren’t in on. They want to look after you, especially after you being so far away for so long, but you’re stubborn and they know you won’t give in no matter what they say.

“Fine” Seungmin relents, “If you aren’t there in an hour we’re coming to get you!”

“Yeah and we’ll raid your hotel room, eat up all your snacks…” Han throws in for extra impact. 

“I’ll be there. I swear! One hour!” you promise, skipping back towards the shop. 

“An hour!” Hyunjin shouts after you, waiting until you’re safely back inside to continue on.

Inside the shop the lights are turned down, not completely off but dimly lit enough that you almost trip on your way to the back. You frantically search every station—in things, under them—but your phone’s nowhere to be found. 

“Fuck, where is it?” you shout in frustration.

Standing in the middle of the floor, you take a deep breath and contemplate where it could be. You were at Han’s station first and then you went to sit with Felix for a bit but Changbin called you to the front for something. That’s it. Maybe it’s there.

You turn to jog back up front when a sound from behind you stops you in your tracks. It’s the sound you’ve been dreading all night. The slow creaking of the door to Chan’s office. Your heart almost stops dead in your chest. You’re frozen, stuck right where you are. You can’t even bring yourself to turn around when you feel the weight of something on your shoulder.

“Looking for this?” he asks, tapping you on the shoulder with your phone. 

Hesitantly, you take it, turning to find yourself face to face with the man you used to call yours. Chan seems less angry now but his nose is red and his eyes are puffy. You can tell from the gloss dancing on the surface of them that he’s been crying. 

“Thanks. Sorry for leaving it behind, I didn’t mean to—”

“Why are you here?” He asks the question so bluntly that you’re stunned, unsure how to respond. 

“I don’t understand—”

“Why’d you come back? I thought you were confident in your decision. I thought that was what you needed. But now you’re standing in front of me so why?”

“Well, I…” you sigh, giving yourself a moment to process your own feelings, “I missed it. The shop and the guys and you.”

Chan’s jaw tightens, your profession placing him right back on edge. “You miss me?” he scoffs, “That’s not the truth. Try again.”

“But it is.”

“No it isn’t.”

“It is.”

“It isn’t!” he finally snaps, raising his voice at you in a way he never has before. “If you missed me then you would’ve called. You would’ve texted me. Do you know what that felt like for me? I haven’t heard your voice in a year.”

“Because you told me you didn’t wanna hear it!” you shout back, the tears you’ve been suppressing all night pouring from your eyes. It hurts to cry this hard. The tightness in your chest is unbearable. You’ve never cried this hard in front of someone before, not even him, but there’s no holding it back. “I blew up your phone all day every day for weeks begging you to talk to me. I might’ve left here but I didn’t leave you. You left me. You broke my heart and I’ve cried for you every night since. So hate me all you want but I won’t torture myself for you anymore.”

Four hours. That’s how long he spent pacing in that office spiraling down an emotional hole. He thought he knew what he’d say to you if he had the chance. All of those words left unsaid would come tumbling out. Those feelings of abandonment. That pain. He’d have the words to put to them that’d make you understand what you did to him.

Watching the tears stream down your face, none of those words matter now. He’d worked you up in his mind to be a villain, totally opposite to the girl he fell in love with. Blinded by his own bitterness he couldn’t see that you were still her. You are still her. And now he can’t ignore it. 

Tucking an arm around your waist he pulls you in, your face pressed into his chest. His fingers find your hair, stroking the soft strands. It feels like it’s been an eternity since he’s touched you. His body’s flush with the sort of warmth flowers must feel on a sunny day.

Chan leans in, his plush lips skimming your ear, “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just had so much anger when you left and I didn’t know how to deal with it but I don’t hate you. I’m so sorry.”

The tremors of his voice give you goosebumps. He sounds as broken as you do and just as lost. You shake your head, pulling back from him. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come” you say, wiping the tears away. “You don’t have to worry about me anymore. I’ll stay away this time. I promise.”

You walk off, your arms wet with tears that won’t stop falling. Your chest’s thumping and the shop seems darker than it was when you came in. Footsteps follow behind you lightly enough for you to question if it’s all in your head. If there’s something you’ve left behind then let it stay that way. You won’t turn back. Not this time.

It’s a silly thing to do but you’re doing it. 

Draped across your bed in a towel, you sip from a bottle of red wine and cycle through a heartbreak playlist that gives your lonely heart the company it desperately needs. The tears stopped a half hour ago, the last of them being shed in the shower. Your eyelids feel raw from all of the salty waterworks and your body’s exhausted.

A few feet away your phone sits on a table, lit up with text messages from the guys. After hearing what happened a few of them insisted on coming to get you but you can’t crawl your way towards the closet for the life of you. If not for their persistence you’d be content to rot in your hotel room for the rest of the night, drowning your sorrows in this bottle of overpriced wine.

Knock. Knock. Knock. 

“Nobody’s home” you groan, face down in the blanket. There’s a pause. Some shuffling on the other side of the door. Maybe it worked?

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Pushing yourself up from the bed, you toss the bottle aside and drag yourself over to the door. “Can’t a girl rot in peace?” you pout, swinging the door open. 

“If this is what you look like when you rot then rot all you want” Chan says, flashing you a smile so genuine you’re positive you must be dreaming. 

You stick your head out into the hallway, looking around for the other guys but there’s no one else in sight. “Chan, uh, what are you doing here?”

“Honestly? I’m afraid you’re gonna leave again before I can beg you not to.” 

With not a drop more of explanation he pushes his way into the room, kissing you like his life depends on it. His tongue glides over yours, savoring the taste of you mixed with the lingering sweetness of the wine. The kiss is so consuming you can barely get a breath in but air is vastly overrated when a kiss is laced with this much passion. There’s a year of longing inside of him and he pours it into you boundlessly. 

Tucking his hands behind your legs, he lifts you up, fingers delighting in the softness of your thighs. He missed this. The tenderness of your kiss. The plushness of your figure. The light, fruity scent of your perfume filling his lungs as he plants open mouthed kisses down your neck, suckling at your smooth skin.

His lips never break from you as he lays you across the bed, tearing your towel away like it’s nothing. His palms massage the fullness of your figure, riding every curve to cup one of your breasts. Your body tenses in response to his touch, moisture pooling between your thighs. 

Chan drags his tongue across your cleavage, his stiffening bulge pressed right against your core. “Tell me you’ll stay this time” he begs, lovesick eyes flicking up to you, “Don’t leave me again.” 

Brushing his hair out of his face, your fingers skate along that immaculate bone structure of his, bringing him up for another breathless kiss. His thumb brushes your nipple, making small circles on the tip of the bud, and you shudder. 

“I’ll stay” you moan, your thighs growing slick with your arousal. 

He pinches the bud, grinding his clothed cock against you harder this time, “Promise me.” 

Chan sounds so needy and it only worsens how badly you ache for him. You guide him back up to his feet, slipping to the edge of the bed to kiss his cock through his pants. You press your palm to it, riding the outline of the print while your other hand dips under his shirt to feel his abs contract with every touch. He tugs his shirt up over his head, giving your hands free reign of that beautiful chest.

You smile up at him, pulling down the band of his pants and his boxers at once. His cock springs free, thick, throbbing, and as deliciously veined as you remember. You stick your tongue out, licking up the arousal dripping from the tip. You smile up at him, your tongue retreating to say the words he wants to hear. “I promise.” 

You press your lips to the tip, taking it in further this time. You swirl your tongue around it, enjoying the satisfied groans that fill the room the more you take him between your fluffy cheeks. Your mouth is so warm and wet around his cock. It’s like heaven.

You relax your throat, taking him as far back as you can, before pulling back the slightest bit to wrap your fingers around the base. You rock your head back and forth, wrist rotating as you pump his shaft. You can feel every little twitch of his cock, taste the precum dripping on the back of your tongue, and it has you soaking through the blanket beneath you. 

Chan reaches down to play with your hair, utterly incapable of taking his eyes off of you. You look too pretty drooling around his cock for him to miss a minute of it. He wants to be like this forever with you. Not only this but everything. He wants to be with you. Near you. Inside of you. Anything you’ll bless him with. He just wants you right here, looking at him with all of the love and admiration you do with his cock throbbing down your throat. 

“My beautiful girl” he coos, tilting his hips in to push into you a little more. “All mine, yeah?” 

With your mouth stuffed so full of him he hardly expects you to answer. Your hum of agreement vibrating down his length is more than enough to let him know that you agree. You’re his again. You’ve wanted to be for so long and at last you are.

That knowledge is almost as intoxicating as feeling him on your tongue. Chan tangles his fingers in your hair, bringing your head back far enough that the head of his cock only ghosts your glossy lips. He plants a kiss on your forehead, staring so deeply into your eyes that you almost lose yourself. 

“Bend over for me, baby” he whispers and you nod your head, swinging around in the cutest way to assume the position.  

You crawl onto your knees for him, back arched and ass in the air. “Is this good, Channie?” 

If only you could see yourself from this angle. Your body’s beyond perfection and your pussy’s glistening like diamonds. He can’t stop himself from tasting you, a hand palming your ass as his tongue darts into your core. 

“So fucking good” he hums, his face buried between your thighs. His tongue dips up, dragging between your folds and teasing your clit. Your body trembles and he grabs your hips, lapping at your clit until his face is soaked in your juices.

“Channie, please, ah. Too much” you whine but your body tells a different story. You’re soaking wet, your walls so needy you’re clenching around air. Your hips arch and swirl, almost riding his face.

Chan’s too drunk on your pussy to listen, his free hand between his legs to stroke his cock as he devours you. His tongue pushes back into your core and your walls flutter around it, leaking like a faucet. His cock throbs in his palm, drenched in a mixture of your saliva and his arousal. He feels so out of it, so completely absorbed in you, that he’s racing towards his high faster than he’s ready for. 

Dragging his tongue out, he steadies himself, gripping your hips to bring himself right to your entrance. You wiggle your ass excitedly and he laughs, licking you from his lips. “You want it that badly, baby?”

You look back, serving a pouty face that’d bring even the toughest man to his knees. “I just wanna see how much you’ve really missed me.”

“I’ve missed you so much” he moans, sinking into you with one motion. You both nearly collapse at the dizzying pleasure of it. Your walls cling to his length as he bottoms out, filling you up perfectly. “I was going crazy without you” he confesses, pulling out and slamming into you even harder. Your body jiggles, the softness of your hips borderline sinful. 

You cry out, biting your tongue to avoid a noise complaint but the moans still spill out. Those broken, beautiful moans. Every stroke rides your sweet spot, pushing you further towards absolute ruin.

“I’ve needed you so badly” he coos, savoring the wet snapping sound of your body colliding with his. “Just like I need you right now. Fuck, I don’t know how I lived without this pussy.” 

Throwing his head back, he settles his knees at the very edge of the bed, bouncing you in his lap. He fucks into you faster, your juices splashing up and decorating his abs. Blindly you reach for a pillow, dragging it over to bury your face in because you know it’s coming. You feel it and so can he. Your legs are shaking, you can barely keep your body straight, and your walls are spasming too wildly to spare his sanity. 

You’re almost there, knocking right at the door of you high. But instead of keeping his pace, he slows down, every movement careful and purposeful. He angles himself against your sweet spot, making sure he doesn’t miss it once, and teases you to the point that your body’s almost crying to cum. “You ready to cum for me, hmm? You want it?”

“Mmhmm” you whine, eyes watering, “Let me cum, Channie, please.”

How can he deny the request of such a pretty girl? Picking up speed again, he thrusts into you, and your orgasm rips through you like an electric current. You bite down on the pillow, your brain going fuzzy as you cream all over his cock, moaning his name in broken syllables.

Chan has the glimmer of a thought to pull out but he’s too addicted to the feeling of you clenching to follow through on it. It’s too late anyway, his heart’s already skipping beats, his seed spilling out into the warmth of your core. His movements grow sloppier, both of your bodies getting weaker by the minute, but he doesn’t stop until your knees give out.

You summon the energy to roll onto your back, giving that poor little pillow a break, and Chan collapses on top of you, his head resting on your soft belly. “You know” he pants, massaging your love handles, “This music is really sad.”

You giggle, your awareness of any music playing having faded away the moment his lips found yours. “You’re right, it is kinda sad, but I was sad.”

“Was?” he asks, propping his chin up on your belly, “You’re not sad anymore, right?” 

“Hmm, no, I don’t think I am.”

“And you really meant what you said? That wasn’t just sex talk?”

You need a second to think about what it was that you said. You’re sure you said a few things when he was inside of you. All of which you meant, of course. “Oh, that I’ll stay? Yeah, I meant that. As long as that’s what you really want.”

Chan climbs on top of you, strong arms caging you in as he hovers above you. “More than anything.” 

He kisses you and you close your eyes, letting yourself fade into him. You don’t regret going off to find yourself, it was something you needed to do, but there’s no doubt in your mind that this is where your heart is. With the shop. With the boys. And, more than anything else, with Chan. 

[4linos]

across the street pt. 1

bang chan x fem!reader, lee minho x fem!reader

synopsis/request: life is finally falling into place for you and your daughter, but a new neighbor could turn your world upside down, bringing unexpected challenges along the way.

wc: 2178

[across the street pt. 2, across the street pt. 3]

(a/n: skz as a group don’t exist in this universe but 3racha does & some of the members will make special appearances!)

- flashback -

You had tried so hard to make it work. For so long, you were patient. You understood that Chan’s career was demanding. Being in a group like 3racha meant that there would be long hours, late nights, and endless commitments. But when it started affecting everything else the quiet, repeated disappointments that kept stacking up, something shifted.

It wasn’t even about the big moments anymore; it was the small ones that mattered. The times you asked if he could come home for dinner, to share a moment together like you used to. He always said yes, but it was a lie. He rarely came. And when he did, it felt like he wasn’t really there his mind was elsewhere, his body distant, as if even when he was physically in front of you, he was still unreachable.

You understood him more than anyone. You knew that when he was on a tight schedule, he couldn’t help it. You tried to convince yourself that you just needed to be patient, that everything would come back to normal. You reminded yourself that it was only temporary, that things would settle after the next comeback or the next tour. But as time went on, it started to feel like the promises didn’t mean anything.

He’d tell you he’d spend more time with you, he’d tell you he missed you, but he never did. You began to wonder if it was something more than just bad timing. Maybe this was who he had become now someone who cared more about his schedule, about his work, than the person he promised to love.

And then the pregnancy test came back positive. You weren’t expecting it. You hadn’t been trying to get pregnant, but life had a way of throwing things at you, and this...this felt like a sign. You kept the news to yourself for a while, not sure how to handle it.

The excitement you should’ve felt was overshadowed by the dread of knowing you didn’t have the kind of relationship you wanted to have with him anymore. You couldn’t help but wonder if this pregnancy would change things, would make him change. You tried to believe that it could, that maybe it would bring you two closer. Maybe this new chapter would be the one where he realized how much you were slipping away from each other.

But despite the shock of the pregnancy, you held onto that hope. You gave him one last chance, thinking that this might be the catalyst. You texted him, telling him you had a surprise and asking if he could come home early. For once, you wanted him to choose you, to choose the life you two had started together.

And for a moment, his response seemed to make things feel hopeful again. He said he missed you. He promised he’d come home early. The words seemed like everything you'd been waiting to hear. You prepared the dinner, set up the table with candles and soft lighting, trying to recreate the intimacy you missed so much. You bought a small gift, a box with the ultrasound picture, a onesie, and some tiny booties. It wasn’t grand, but it was everything you felt you needed to say. You were ready to share this new chapter with him.

But he didn’t show up. Hours passed. You tried calling, but he didn’t answer. You texted, no reply. At first, you kept telling yourself that maybe something important came up. He was stuck in the studio, maybe there was a meeting he couldn’t get out of. You waited, and waited, and waited. But deep down, you couldn’t shake the growing suspicion that it wasn’t about work.

When he finally came home at 3 a.m., his exhausted face was the last thing you wanted to see. You had stayed up, trying to prepare for a future that felt uncertain, and he came home with no recognition of what you had done. You felt invisible. Not just because of the lack of a proper response, but because even in this moment, when you were offering him something that would change your lives, he was too tired to care. Too tired to even ask about the dinner you’d prepared, too tired to notice the soft glow of the candles that symbolized the hope you’d been clinging to.

“Hey, baby,” he mumbled as he walked past you, barely sparing a glance at the table. His exhaustion was written all over him, and you felt a bitter pang of resentment. You tried to ask him, to make him see you, to make him realize how much this had hurt you. But his apology came without depth. "Sorry, I didn’t think much of it. Just... so tired."

He threw himself onto the bed, not even attempting to check if you were okay, not even considering that you might need him right now. His indifference hit you like a wave, and the weight of everything you’d been carrying started to crumble. It wasn’t just about the dinner or the surprise anymore, it was the realization that no matter how many chances you gave him, it was never going to be enough.

You didn’t even feel angry. Not anymore. You had spent so long being patient, so long hoping for something that never came, that now you just felt empty. You were done. Done with waiting for him to change, done with asking for his attention, done with hoping he’d finally see you as his priority.

“I’m done, Chan,” you whispered, your voice soft but laced with finality. It was the end of a long chapter that you’d been holding onto in the hope of something better, but now you knew. There was nothing left to fight for.

When he didn’t respond, when he didn’t reach for you or even acknowledge what you said, the silence between you became deafening. He was too tired, too caught up in his world to see what was crumbling in front of him, and you realized, in that quiet moment, that you had already been alone for so long. The table with the candles, the onesie and booties, the ultrasound, all of it was just a reflection of what you had been trying to salvage: a dream that was never going to be real.

And as you turned off the lights and curled up in the bed, away from him, you could almost hear the faint echo of your heart breaking.

-

The morning after you told him you were done, you woke up to the heaviness of reality. He had already left for work. The silence between you both felt suffocating, but you didn’t regret your decision. You had made up your mind. You couldn’t keep living in a relationship that had drained you for so long. Your heart ached, but there was a sense of finality. You were no longer willing to wait for someone who couldn’t meet you halfway, someone who had neglected not only your relationship but also the future you had been imagining together.

With shaky hands, you called your family. You didn’t want to do this alone. You needed support. Your mom’s voice on the other end of the line was full of concern, but you didn’t have to explain much. She knew. She’d seen the toll it had taken on you for months. She had been a quiet witness to your pain, the way you kept waiting for Chan to come home, for him to keep his promises, and how he always let you down. She didn’t hesitate. “We’ll come over. We’ll help you, honey.”

It felt like a blur, the way everything shifted in the span of hours. Your mom arrived with your dad, and they both wasted no time, helping you pack up your things. The house you had once shared with Chan now felt foreign to you, as if you were walking through someone else’s life. The space that had once been filled with laughter and hope was now just a shell of memories you couldn’t hold onto anymore.

You moved through the process mechanically, packing your clothes, your personal items, everything that was yours. Your mom’s hands were gentle on your back, a quiet comfort as she moved alongside you. It was hard to see through the blur of tears that welled up in your eyes, but you knew deep down that this was what you needed to do. There was no other choice. You were done.

As the afternoon sun began to set, the last box was packed, and you were ready to leave. You had spent the last few hours in a daze, but now, standing in the living room, you could feel the weight of the decision pressing on your chest. The future was uncertain, and the path ahead felt terrifying, but it was yours. It was your decision, and it was the only one that made sense.

You couldn’t bring yourself to talk to Chan. Not yet. Not after everything that had happened. So instead, you wrote him a letter. It wasn’t a letter that explained everything, nor did it mention the pregnancy. You didn’t owe him that, not anymore. The letter wasn’t about him, it was about you. About your broken heart and how you were finally putting yourself first.

You poured everything into the letter. Your pain, your frustration, your sadness. The tears that had stained the paper were a testament to how much you had tried to hold on, how much you had hoped for something different. You wrote that you were no longer happy, that you were done being pushed aside, that you could no longer live in the shadow of promises that would never be kept.

When you finished, you placed the letter on the kitchen counter. It felt like the final piece to closing that chapter. You didn’t need to confront him. The words you’d written were enough. The letter was the closure, even if Chan never got the chance to read it or understand it.

Your mom held you close as you cried, her voice soft and comforting. “You’re strong, honey. This is the right choice. You’ll be okay.”

And as you left the house, walking out of the door for the last time, you felt a strange mix of fear and relief. You didn’t know what the future would hold, but you knew you couldn’t go back. You couldn’t keep living in a relationship that wasn’t serving you, that wasn’t giving you what you needed.

Once you were settled into a new place with your family’s support, you took the final step. You blocked Chan’s number, along with anyone else who was still tied to him, friends, other members, managers. You had to completely sever the ties in order to heal. You were walking away from the life you had once shared with him.

The journey ahead wouldn’t be easy. The pregnancy was just beginning, and you would have to face it alone, but you weren’t truly alone. You had your family, your friends, and most importantly, you had yourself. And as a single mother, you would find your strength. Even if it was a struggle, even if it meant stepping into the unknown, you knew you could build something better for yourself. You could create a future that was filled with hope, not disappointment.

It was time to move on. And this time, you were doing it for you.

Five years had passed since you walked away from Chan, and those years had been full of growth, healing, and finding new happiness. You had Nari now, a beautiful 4-year-old daughter who brought so much light into your life. And then there was Minho, your boyfriend, your rock. The one who made you feel safe and supported in ways that Chan hadn’t. Life had been peaceful, stable, and full of love.

You'd found comfort in your new normal. Every morning you woke up next to Minho, helped Nari get ready for school, and lived a routine that felt comforting. There were no more unanswered texts, no more broken promises. Just a life you could finally enjoy.

That morning was like any other. The sun streamed in through the kitchen window as you prepared breakfast for Nari. You could hear Minho coming down the stairs, fresh from his early gym session, towel draped over his shoulder. He looked over at the window, his eyes scanning outside.

“Hey,” Minho said, his tone casual. “Looks like we’re getting new neighbors.”

You paused for a moment, looking up. “New neighbors? Did you see who they were?”

Minho shrugged, wiping sweat off his forehead. “No, just a moving truck. Didn’t catch a glimpse of them, but I’m guessing they’re settling in.”

Nari, hearing the mention of "new neighbors," perked up immediately. "New friends? Are they my age?" she asked eagerly, her eyes wide with excitement.

She loved the idea of new kids to play with, and after her busy day at school, she’d probably be ecstatic to meet anyone close to her age. You and Minho both joked about how she’d probably be the first to knock on their door.

“Maybe you’ll have new friends to play with, sweetheart,” you told Nari as you handed her a plate of breakfast.

Minho went to freshen up, while you made sure Nari had her things packed up for school, everything felt normal. There was a sense of peace in the small things your daughter laughing, Minho humming in the background as he brushed his teeth, the comfortable sounds of your family living in harmony.

After you made sure Nari ate her breakfast and finished packing her bag, you and Minho both got ready to take her to school. You put on a jacket and headed out the door, holding Nari's hand while Minho walked alongside you. It was a crisp morning, the sun rising slowly, and you felt at ease, the weight of your past completely gone.

As you drove to Nari’s school, the world outside seemed so familiar, yet a strange sensation stirred in your chest as you passed the house with the moving truck.

A tall figure was standing near the front of the house, talking to the movers and directing them. Your first instinct was to brush it off, as it was a simple sight you’d seen a hundred times. But something about that figure, the way they moved, felt eerily familiar.

You stared for a moment, trying to place it, but the thought was fleeting as you focused on getting Nari to school.

You quickly pushed the thought out of your mind. It couldn’t be. This was a new chapter in your life, a chapter you’d carefully built, and you couldn’t let anything, especially someone from the past, take that away from you.

"Okay, sweetheart, here we are. Have a great day!" You helped Nari out of the car, giving her a quick hug and sending her off with a kiss on her cheek.

Minho stood beside you, watching Nari wave as she ran toward the school entrance. When you both returned to the car and drove back home, a sinking feeling started to grow. Something about the morning seemed off, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it.

Minho parked the car in the driveway, but before you even got out, your eyes instinctively went back to the house across the street, the one with the moving truck. And that’s when you saw him.

Chan.

It was unmistakable. The familiar figure was no longer just a shadow in the distance, but a real, tangible presence right there in front of you. He was standing on the porch now, hands on his hips, directing movers as they carried boxes inside. It wasn’t a mistake. It was him. The same man who had once been your world, your heartbreak, your past.

Your heart dropped to your stomach. You had tried to move on, to leave that chapter behind, but here he was, right across the street, as if nothing had happened. As if the past hadn’t torn you apart. You stood still, unable to move, processing the shock that had just hit you like a wall. You had never expected this.

Minho saw your reaction immediately, his eyes following yours to the house across the street. He didn’t need to ask anything. He saw the change in you, the way you froze, the way your breath caught.

“Is that…?” Minho began, but didn’t finish the sentence. His voice was softer now, knowing the weight of the situation, knowing that something was stirring in you.

You nodded, your throat tight. "It’s Chan."

For a moment, you didn’t know what to feel. Anger? Shock? Fear? It was as if your past had just collided violently with your present, and you were trying to make sense of it all. You didn’t want him back in your life. You had built something better, something real, with Minho and Nari. But there he was, standing on the porch, like he had every right to be there, like he hadn’t shattered everything you had worked so hard to put back together.

Minho, sensing your tension, stepped closer, placing a hand on your shoulder. His touch was warm and reassuring, an unspoken promise that he wouldn’t let Chan ruin what you had.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Minho asked softly, his voice steady but filled with concern.

You shook your head, not sure where to even start. "I don’t know what to say," you whispered, still staring across the street at Chan.

Minho kissed the top of your head gently, grounding you. “You don’t have to talk about it right now. I’m here, okay? You’re not alone in this.”

You nodded, your eyes still locked on Chan as he walked into the house across the street, carrying a box. Everything you had worked for, all the peace you’d built for yourself, suddenly felt fragile, as if one glance at that house could unravel it all.

But then, something inside of you shifted. You weren’t the same person you had been back then. You had Nari. You had Minho. You had a life that was strong, filled with love and stability. Chan was a ghost of your past, someone who was no longer part of your present. He might be back in your neighborhood, but you weren’t going to let him back into your life.

“Let’s go inside,” you said, your voice steadier now. “We’ll deal with this later.”

Minho didn’t say anything else. He just nodded, understanding that you needed space to process the situation. You both went inside, and as you closed the door behind you, the weight of what had just happened hung in the air.

You didn’t know what Chan’s return meant or why he had moved across the street. You didn’t know if this would change everything, or if it was just another random coincidence. What you did know was that you had built something real, something lasting, and you weren’t going to let the past come crashing in and take it from you.

You and Minho had a future together, and that future would not be defined by someone who hadn’t cared enough to be there when you needed him the most. No, you were stronger than that. You had built this life from the ground up, and no amount of unexpected moving trucks or familiar faces would change that.

And so, you focused on the love you had now, the love that was real. That was enough.

//

❌ proofread

masterlist.

[damiansgoodgirll]

could you write rhea x jey x reader smut. Like however you wanna write it just no cheating please

I’VE NEVER WRITTEN ANYTHING LIKE THIS AND I DON’T THINK I’LL MAKE MORE CAUSE THIS ONE IS BAD, YOU’VE BEEN WARNED ‼️

rhea ripley x reader x jey uso

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!!

‼️a little bit of angst, feels, insecure reader, fluff, romance, smut so stay away kids, not much of a plot, soft!rhea, soft!jey, dom!rhea, not so dom jey, threesome(?) and more i guess‼️

eyes on me

you didn’t exactly know what led to have you naked between rhea’s and jey’s bodies, but somehow you ended up there. maybe it was the constant tension between you and rhea. the way she would always make sure you were okay after a match, the way she helped you train everytime you were at the gym together or how she always made sure to compliment you, even if you were just wearing baggy clothes and had dark circles under your eyes.

you never meant for that to happen. after the painful break up with dom, rhea needed someone that stayed by her side. you and damian were her best friends so, of course you were both there for her.

she took your advice seriously when you told her that she had to move on. in less than two weeks she was already seeing jey uso and you were happy for her. maybe feeling a little jealous that she didn’t need you as she used to but you couldn’t lie that jey was the right person for her.

jey was always kind and gentle with you. respecting your friendship with rhea and never overstepping.

but if rhea and jey were a happy couple, why were you naked on their bed?

“we don’t have to do this if it makes you uncomfortable…” rhea softly whispered in your ear, gently kissing your neck.

it wasn’t making you uncomfortable. it was making you wonder what had changed during that dinner with rhea and jey at her place.

one minute you were all happily eating and watching a comedy show, the next minute you were straddling jey’s lap, his hands were moving under your shirt as rhea moved to massage jey’s shoulders and neck, leaving soft kisses on his skin.

you remember jey carrying you to the main bedroom, rhea leading the way. you still remember the feeling of rhea’s hands as she undressed you, taking her time admiring you. you remember how jey undressed rhea, him watching her with loving eyes, making you feel a little insecure because you didn’t have someone waiting at home that would look at you like that. you remember how rhea softly dragged you down on the bed with her, bringing a hand to your cheek and looking for any sign of discomfort in your eyes. when you showed none, she tested the water and brought her lips over yours. no rush, just a gentle kiss. one, turned into two, and two kisses turned into a full make out session with her as jey undressed himself and laid next to you on the bed. one of his hands tenderly caressing your hips. leaving soft kisses from your neck, to your collarbone, into your belly.

he stopped his movements when rhea said those words. he was too lost in his thoughts that he actually didn’t think that it might have been uncomfortable for you.

he looked between your faces and noticed the hopeful looked that rhea had. he knew that rhea thought of you as more than a friend, he talked about it with her and they both were on the same page. they both liked you, they both had feelings for you and if you were okay, they were ready to let you in their relationship.

“i’m okay with this…” you soft voice whispered. rhea and jey were able to hear you and they both relaxed when you said those words.

“but you’re thinking of something, aren’t you?” jey questioned, making you nod your head “what is it babe?”

you blushed under his staring gaze “it’s just…i don’t want this to ruin what we have…”

“i promise you, it’s not” rhea added “nothing is gonna ruin what we have…we promise you”

“okay…” you smiled, earning a smile from her side “but uhm…i’ve never been with two people at the same time so i don’t really know what to do” your cheeks turning red.

“it’s okay beautiful, we will take care of you” jey reassured you, making you nod your head.

your heart pounding in your chest when rhea started kissing you again. her lips were so soft and kissable that you were kinda jealous that jey had the chance to kiss her every day. jey moved between your legs, with his big hands, he softly pulled them apart. while rhea was assaulting your lips, jey started kissing your thighs, grazing at your naked pussy but never touching it.

“i wanna taste her…” rhea almost moaned on your lips when she heard jey kissing your thighs. he couldn’t say no to mami so he moved out of her way and as rhea positioned herself between your legs, the twin laid next to you, popping himself up on his elbow as he watched cautiously every movement your face made.

rhea’s lips kissed your clit, making you slightly move on the bed. when she got the reaction that she wanted from you, she began her attack on your pussy. she took her time eating you out, kissing and licking your clit. jey’s free hand moved over your already hardened nipples, giving them equal attention.

you weren’t a typical screamer in bed, you were shy and it was hard for your partners to understand if you liked what they were doing or not. jey noticed how hard you were trying to keep your moans low and he didn’t agree with your choice “i wanna hear your pretty voice” he whispered into your ear, while his lips left kisses behind your neck “moan for us y/n…” and that was all the confidence you needed because in the exact moment rhea licked at your entrance and jey took a nipple in his mouth, a soft moan escaped your lips, making rhea shiver from how good you were being for them.

jey enjoyed teasing your nipples, wondering if you were so sensitive just for him or you were like that in general. his kisses were soft, he was treating you with such care that you found hard to believe that the jey uso was such a romantic lover boy.

rhea told you about the first time they had sex and how he basically destroyed her. of course, she enjoyed it, and by the way she told you that story, you were sure that those two destroy the bedroom at least twice a day. but this was a different side of jey, and a different side of rhea.

still taking the lead, she brought one of her skilled finger over your clit as her tongue was working over your entrance “fuck baby, you taste so fucking good…” she moaned against your pussy, making you shiver. the added pressure over your clit sent goosebumps all over your body. seeing your thighs trembling, jey knew that you were close and he needed to see you coming for them.

he moved his head from your nipples to your lips, gently kissing you, his tongue fighting for dominance “you coming baby?” he whispered in your ear. too lost in pleasure, you couldn’t find a proper answer but the way your thighs shook and the way your body went rigid and limp in a minute was enough as an answer for jey. grabbing the sheets, a very pornographic sound left your lips, shocking everyone in the room, you included. no one ever made you cum so hard in your life.

rhea worked you through your orgasm, stopping only when she cleaned you up with her tongue. when she was done, she brought her face down to your face and softly pressed a kiss onto your cheek “you were so good for me…” she whispered in your ear. she watched your blissful face, eyes barely open and mouth agape, you were a vision for her.

“you should taste how sweet she is…” she grabbed jey’s face and brought him to her lips, making you taste yourself on him. jey moaned into rhea’s mouth, swearing that you were the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted.

rhea’s hand teased jey’s cock. you saw it tweaking in her hand as she gave it some attention too. pre-cum already spreading along his shaft, making him whimpering as rhea mover her hand up and down. you watched in awe how confident she was, how confident she was moving and you wished you could have a little bit of her confidence. you were there, watching her pleasuring her boyfriend and you felt yourself getting wet again.

“baby…” jey moaned against her lips “i wanna try y/n’s pussy…” he said, almost as if he was asking for permission. you saw the look rhea gave him, almost a smirk and she couldn’t say no so she nodded, kissing him one last time before sitting on the bed next to you.

rhea fantasised about you multiple times. she fantasised about having you naked just for her, having you naked for her and jey and now she couldn’t believe that you were actually there.

“you doing okay love?” she asked, making sure that you were okay and not overwhelmed.

“yeah…” a whisper left your mouth.

jey checked with rhea and she signed him to go, that you were okay and ready for him.

“if at any point you wanna stop, you say the word and i stop okay baby?” jey asked you, and you nodded. he wanted this to be pleasurable experience for you and hurting you wasn’t his intention.

he was big. probably the biggest dick you’ve ever seen and you haven’t had sex in a long time, you weren’t so sure he was going to fit.

“what about we stretch you out first?” rhea asked, mostly to jey. she might have sensed your worry or maybe she remembered when you told her that the last time you had sex was months and months ago.

jey nodded, understanding that this might have been a little overwhelming for you. he brought his middle finger over your entrance, teasing you, making you whimper. he took time with you. his finger slowly thrusting inside of you. your walls immediately clenching around him.

she’s not going to fit - he thought - she’s too tight.

“let me know if i hurt you…” he whispered, reassuring you with a smile.

“okay…” you smiled back. you trusted jey, you trusted rhea, maybe you didn’t trust yourself much but you knew you were in good hands. they would never hurt you on purpose and rhea reminded you that no matter what, you had control over your decisions, whether you wanted to continue or not.

his finger moved slowly inside of you, jey finding that spot that made you crawl to him. he found it when he heard a strong whimper coming from you “oh, like that uh?” he watched as you nodded your head, not being able to answer him. rhea admired the whole scene in awe. she had dreamed about this multiple times and she couldn’t believe that now you were actually there, naked for both of them. she was mesmerised by your beauty, by the way your body reacted so well to both her and damian. she couldn’t get enough of you.

“i wanna feel you coming on my cock…” jey’s voice was low, delicate even. you nodded, anticipation building in your core “if at any point you want to stop just let me know, i don’t wanna hurt you baby…” jey was dead serious. you weren’t rhea, he didn’t know you or your body as well as he knew hers but by the time you’ve spent together he saw how more of a delicate person you were, he knew he had to be careful otherwise he would scare you.

“i will…” you reassured him.

he brought his dick through your folds, collecting your juices before slowly thrusting his tip inside of you. he was big, probably the biggest one you’ve ever been with. he made you feel inch by inch, thrusting deeper inside of you “breathe baby…” rhea reminded you.

once he was all settled in, he waited for you to adjust, leaving soft kisses on your collarbone and breast, whispering praising words “you can move jey…” you nodded your head when he gave you a questioning look.

he moved slowly at first, his eyes never leaving your face, making sure there was no sign of discomfort.

when he hit that spot inside of you, you couldn’t contain your moans low any longer, pleasure was building inside of you and rhea’s hands touching between your shoulders and your breast weren’t making it easy for you to stay quiet.

“faster…” you moaned, making him smile. he sped up a little, hitting all the right spots inside of you “oh fuck…mh…” you felt tears forming inside your eyes, you’ve never felt that much pleasure in your life.

your thighs shaking a little, making jey speed his movements as rhea lowered her head and took a nipple into her mouth, biting and kissing it “you’re being so good for us baby…so fucking good” she murmured against your skin. you loved her dominant side, you trusted her with your life and you gave control over your own body.

“jey…oh-fuck…” you opened your eyes, meeting his staring look. a few tears fell and rolled down your red cheeks “please…” you didn’t even know what you were begging for.

“please what baby…you like it?” he whispered into your ear, only earning a nod as a reply “good girl…baby, you’re made for us…” he quickly looked down at rhea, noticing how her lips were playing with your nipples and her hands were playing with her pussy, bringing her own pleasure. the room was filled with moans, your skin shining from the layers of sweat upon it. jey’s body moving in sync with yours as you were both chasing your orgasm.

“jey, i’m so close…fuck” your voice whimpered, making jey slowing his thrusts as he could take a good look at you. he brought a leg over his shoulder, moving deeper inside of you.

“oh fuck…come for me baby…” he almost cried when he felt how your walls were squeezing him. you were close and he knew it “keep your eyes on me baby, i wanna see your face…” he ordered and you tried your best to do as he said “eyes on me…” he whispered, voice so rough and yet so soft.

rhea was about to cum as she played with her own clit and her moans vibrating against your skin where enough to send you over the edge.

“jey…oh fuck…i’m…” you weren’t even able to finish your sentence that you were already coming on his cock.

“yeah, i know baby…i wanna feel you” he sped up his movements as you were coming all around his cock. your own orgasm led to rhea coming all over her fingers. jey couldn’t hold himself anymore and he quickly pulled out and came all over your chest. he wanted to cum inside of you but as a first experience with him and rhea, he didn’t want overwhelm you. “oh shit…” his eyes rolled back as he leaked all over your chest and red breast.

you took time catching breath, your chest heavy while rhea softly kissed your reddened skin. your whole body was sensitive, legs still shaking and tears still falling from your eyes. jey moved to get a washcloth from the bathroom to clean you up.

“you did so good baby…” rhea whispered as she moved closer to your body. she laid down on the bed and she gently grabbed your body so you could lay against her. your head over her shoulder as she softly whispered praise words into your ear.

jey admired the two of you, feeling so grateful that you trusted them both.

he quickly cleaned himself before coming back to the bedroom, his hands moving to wash your sensitive pussy and chest, to clean you up from all of his juices and when he was done he moved to lay back down, next to your and rhea.

“are you okay baby?” he asked, meeting your eyes “anything that hurts?”

you smiled “no…i’m perfectly okay, nothing hurts…” and they both believed you. you looked so peaceful in jey’s eyes that he wished this could be a permanent thing and not a causal one.

“i should probably go home…” you whispered, feeling like you didn’t belong there. it was fun, it was good, but you didn’t want to crash rhea’s and jey’s romantic relationship more than you already did.

jey and rhea looked at each other, worried that they might have done something wrong “what are you talking about love?” rhea softly asked.

“i mean…this was just one night thing, right? i don’t wanna be the reason you two break up or have problems…” you mumbled, shying away.

“what? hold up! what is that coming from?” jey intervened.

you took a deep breath “i mean…isn’t this what you wanted? just an experience?”

“absolutely no…baby, why would you think that?” rhea was partially shocked and hurt “what i said at dinner, it’s true…i’ve always thought of you as more than just a friend and just because because jey and i are dating, doesn’t mean we don’t want you too…if you want us” she smiled at you.

they wanted you? not just for the sex, but they wanted you.

“i know that your pretty mind is overthinking right now…” jey murmured leaving a soft kiss over your shoulder “but we want you, if you want us…”

“like a relationship? the three of us?” you definitely didn’t expect that proposal.

“yeah…” rhea breathed “the three of us…we can take things slowly, we are not rushing you and we definitely will never make you do things you are uncomfortable doing…but it’s pretty clear, we like you more than just a friend and the idea of not having you with us it’s killing me…”

“okay…” you whispered, meeting rhea’s face and her hopeful eyes.

“okay?” jey asked, smiling a little too much.

“yeah…okay, let’s do this…” you knew you were in good hands so why not giving it a try?

——————————————————

I CANNOT BELIEVE THAT I WROTE THIS 🙅🏻‍♀️ enjoy 💋

[rothpie]

❝FIDELITY❞ |part15

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then they don’t show. 

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

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

They just didn’t. 

If they wanted to, they would have. 

And knowing that hurt the most. 

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

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

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

Screw love. He was your best friend. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your best friend. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You should’ve just stayed in Asheville. 

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

“Hey.” 

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

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

Like he was someone else entirely. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh… Got it.” 

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

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

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

“No.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was disgusting. 

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

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

Rafe said nothing. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” Rafe said. 

“Okay.” You echoed him. 

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

You weren’t friends. 

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

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

“Are you done?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I—" JJ started. 

"You what?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And maybe you were. 

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

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

"Maybe." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm here now." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?" you asked, confused. 

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

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

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

Something about it made your stomach twist. 

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

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

You hated how lost you sounded. 

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

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

His voice broke slightly on the last word. 

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

You felt like you had been punched in the stomach. 

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

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

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

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

No. 

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

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

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

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

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

Because you were an idiot. 

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

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

What the hell would he do the next time? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Clear and direct. That’s all you needed. 

"You don’t remember." 

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

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

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

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

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

Of course. 

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

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

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

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

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

Screw it. His life. 

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

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

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

"Let it go." 

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

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

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

"JJ—" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You let him walk past you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Except for one. 

Liliana. 

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

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

He loathed his entire existence. 

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

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

He had just left. 

For you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Same old ego—” 

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

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

His blood ran cold. 

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

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

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

Shit. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A kid?!” 

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

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

“Shut up, Kelce,” Rafe muttered. 

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

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

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

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

Rafe didn’t know. 

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

You’d never told him. 

You never told Rafe that JJ was in your life. 

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

But underneath that anger, there was something else. 

A dull, aching kind of hurt. 

How could you not tell him?

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

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

Fuck. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rafe didn’t take his eyes off Liliana. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

With a deep breath, he took a step back. 

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

Rafe staggered slightly, running a hand through his hair. 

He didn’t know what to do. 

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

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

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

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

JJ walked off, moving fast. 

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

What the hell was that? 

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

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

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

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

“The fuck was that?”

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

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

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

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

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

JJ knew you’d heard him come in. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your jaw clenched. 

Oh, for fuck’s sake. 

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

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

JJ’s footsteps followed behind you almost instantly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was it. Your patience snapped. 

“What the fuck is your problem?!” 

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

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

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

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

This wasn’t him. Not the JJ you knew. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your patience snapped. 

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

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

You arched a brow, taking another step closer. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

But JJ was a liar. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t think so.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck him.

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

Fuck that.

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

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

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

But before you could say anything else, JJ moved.

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

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

For a moment, your brain blanked.

It didn’t last long.

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

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

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

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

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

Like you were made for this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The words hit like a punch to the gut. 

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

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

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

Had you crossed a line? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your lips trembled as you shut your eyes. 

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

Only the names had changed. 

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

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

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

Pathetic. 

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

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

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

Still the same damn fool.

[rinhaler]

𝖗𝖆𝖛𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖉 𝖇𝖞 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜

would you fuck your high school bully if you got set up on a blind date with him? if he was hot, probably, right?? ... right?

✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors.    ✧. ┊ ex bully!rensuke kunigami x f!reader

Genre: porn with a plot Notes: a concept that has rotted my brain for weeks now. ty to @chososdoll for beta reading as per ♡ Warnings: 18+, alcohol consumption, pro player!kunigami, pleasure dom!kunigami, consent check, overstimulation ♡, multiple orgasms (duh!), pussy eating ♡, fingering, slight nipple play, dumbification, size difference, vaginal sex, dacryphilia ♡, enemies to lovers?, pool sex ♡, skinny dipping, morning sex ♡, wake up blowjob, shush kink?, praise, reader has pubes! (landing strip), calls your pussy 'she', bullying mention, pet names (baby, princess). Words: 15.1k

“This seems a little…”

“What?”

“Sad.” you laugh, repositioning yourself on the couch beside your best friend as you watch your fourth horror film of the evening. She tuts, but not before gesturing that she needed a refill on her wine. So, you reach over to the side table and start taking off the lid for her. “I don’t know. It feels a bit desperate, no?”

“No!” Maisie objects.

She can’t remember the last time she heard you gush about a guy. And honestly, neither can you. It’s been forever since you went on a date. And it’s been even longer since you got laid. You shake the thought away as you pour the red liquid into her empty glass.

You’re happy alone, for now, you think. It’s not like you feel lonely. Admittedly, it isn’t the best feeling when you have to listen to all of your friends talk about their date nights or cosy nights in with their partners. It isn’t the end of the world, though. Maybe happy is a strong word to describe how you feel.

You’re content being alone.

“I’m not saying you have to marry the guy,” she continues, lifting the wine to her lips when you finish filling her glass. “Just meet him. He’s so sweet, and he’s gorgeous!”

“You fuck him then!” you laugh. She takes the opportunity to flaunt her engagement ring that she hasn’t even had for a week yet. You roll your eyes, but laugh, grabbing her hand so you can examine it again. It is beautiful. Are you a bad friend? Because the stab of jealousy you suddenly feel is almost painful. “I’ve never been on a blind date. I didn’t even realise they were still a thing, why won’t you just show me him?”

“I promise he’s extremely sexy. Trust me, if I wasn’t engaged I’d definitely take him for a ride.” she giggles, and you laugh back at that. She has similar taste to you, so you’re sure you’ll feel the same way when you see him. It’s intimidating though. You’re putting complete faith in her that she won’t fuck you over. And then, you realise, you’re thinking about it as if you’ve already accepted. Maybe it’s a sign. You should just take the plunge. “I don’t want to tell you too much and spoil the fun, but—”

“I’ll do it.”

“Y- really?!” she wiggles a little closer to you in excitement, her wine sloshing in her glass as she approaches. “I’m gonna text him now! Eeeeeeek!” she squeals, putting her wine down and picking up her phone. You don’t think you’ve ever seen her fingers move so fast as she texts the mystery man.

You want to pry for more information, but you know her too well. She’s stubborn. And the blind date aspect for her is too exciting. There’s no use trying to get her to spill. Though it doesn’t stop you from attempting to extract even a slither of information.

“How do you know him?”

“He’s a client.” she pays you no mind, perfectly manicured fingers tap away at her phone as she formulates a text message.

You’re surprised, for multiple reasons. You hadn’t expected her to answer that truthfully, let alone with no hesitation. It came so easy for her to say; which means one of two things. Either, it’s true, or, she had a well-crafted lie prepared in case you asked that very question. But if it’s true… that’s interesting.

She’s a social media manager. And while her clients aren’t necessarily A-Listers, they aren’t exactly nobody’s, either.

“Oh my God, is he a footballer?” you smile, widely. She peers up from her phone and you find it hard to read her expression. She’s always had a good poker face, but you’ve known her long enough to recognise her tells. And when she licks her lips, you have your answer. “AH! Is he rich? Oh I bet he’s gorgeous, fuck, is he shredded? Like—”

“The horny jumped out!” she laughs, and you playfully hit her arm before laughing along with her. She doesn’t say anything else about it. Now, she is fully committed to the blind element of the date. “I’ll drop you off, I’ll tell him what you’re wearing so he knows it’s you. He said he’s free Thursday night, does that work?”

“Sure.”

“Great! So 9PM on Thursday.”

“Um…” you hesitate. Fucking 9PM? You know you aren’t that old, you’re in your mid-twenties for crying out loud, but that seems very late. You’re usually tired by 10 o’clock. But you refuse to risk her chastising you for being boring. So, you suck it up with a beaming smile, “Perfect.” it almost hurts to say.

She claps, enthusiastically, before picking up her abandoned wine glass again. You’re both silent, fixated on the movie. But you spot Maisie out of the corner of your eye finish her drink in a hearty swig. You don’t comment, though, still trying your damnedest to focus on the movie. It’s too late, though, you’ve missed most of the plot since she started plotting and preparing your upcoming date. You don’t dare break the silence, though. She looks utterly engrossed.

However your own attempt at concentrating is thwarted when you hear her glass land a little too harshly onto her coaster. It doesn’t smash, thankfully, but you’re both staring at each other after that.

“I haven’t got a fucking clue what’s happening in this.” she admits, and you laugh, agreeing. “Let’s go plan your outfit for Thursday!” she suggests, throwing the blanket you’re sharing off her body before walking hastily to your bedroom.

This is so her.

She’s more excited for this date than you are.

“Deep breaths, you look gorgeous!” she assures you, holding your hand as you squeeze it again and again to calm your nerves. “For what it’s worth, by the way, he’s my sweetest client. He’s really respectful and kind, a lot of them can be rude but he’s never been like that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! He’s really understanding.” she nods, eagerly. “Do you want me to come in and wait with you?”

“No, um… c-can you wait and let me know when he’s coming in? Or, just be here in case I get stood up.”

“Don’t even think that, he’s excited! He’ll be here. I’ll drop him so fast if he does, but I know he won’t.” she assures you.

You take another deep breath before smiling at her. She reaches over to give you a hug. It’s a tight, reassuring squeeze that makes you feel better for a fleeting moment. She waves like a child when you step out of the car, and she wolf whistles before you close the door.

If nothing else, at least you look good. You both agreed that there’s nothing like a little black dress, and your high heels accentuate your legs. They clack as you stomp across the pavement. And when you realise your steps are in time with your heartbeat you think it wise to slow down.

As the entrance to the restaurant comes into view, you look down the street and give your friend one final wave. Though, really, it’s meaningless. You know as soon as you sit down you’ll pull your phone out and start texting her in a panic. The maître d’ welcomes you with a beaming smile, checking the reservation list for the booking strategically made under Maisie’s name.

Still so committed to the blindness of the date.

It’s sort of exciting to think he doesn’t know anything about you, either. Though it’s scaring you slightly that he could take one look at you and turn around. And you won’t know until it’s too late. You won’t know until you’re being pestered to order after telling the wait staff that your date hasn’t arrived yet several times.

They’ll have to be polite despite how humiliating it is to tell you that other patrons need to be seated and seen to and you’re wasting their time. You’ll have to swallow your pride and leave. You can’t possibly eat alone after shouldering such a burning humiliation.

Oh God.

You text Maisie. And your fingers tremble as you type out the message. Telling her that you cannot go through with this and that you’re about to leave. A barrage of texts come through as she tries to give you a pep talk. But your anxiety flares and your leg begins to bounce as you try and shake the nervous energy from it.

Part of you thinks it’s best to stay sober, but your body is screaming differently. One drink won’t hurt, you decide, ordering two glasses of wine in case your date ever turns up.

And then you remember who he is. Or who he might be. He’s a client of your best friend, the social media manager. He must have some level of fame to need that representation. You’re pretty sold on the idea that he is likely a footballer. And through this thought process you manage to relax, if only a little. If he’s famous, he could be busy.

You decide to offer him some grace.

Though you should have given him the time to be really late before you got so worked up. You’ve only been seated for three minutes, after all. It’s not like he’s stood you up for an hour. You decide you’ll give him fifteen minutes before you leave. That’s a suitable amount of time to be able to leave and not look really foolish.

Every person that enters makes your heart race. Is it him? Only to realise it’s a couple or a double date or a family party in tow. You check the time on your phone, nine minutes have passed. Your cheeks fill with air as you puff it out slowly through pursed lips.

YOU: he’s not coming. MAISIE MOO 🐮: dw he just called me! he was stuck in traffic!!! YOU: rly? MAISIE MOO 🐮: yah! should be there any minute, have fun 😉

Your heart rate intensifies again as you see a man walk through the entrance and close an umbrella as he greets the maître d’. It prompts you to look outside, the windows are practically black save for a few lights on in the buildings across the road. But your eyes focus on the fat raindrops and their white outlines as they roll down the glass. How didn’t you notice the sudden torrential downpour?

Even from your seat at such a distance from the entrance you can see how large and well defined his hand is as he shakes raindrops from his orange hair. The colour makes you shiver, but you bat it away. It’s him, it has to be him. He’s alone, after all. And you see the maître d’ smile in your direction.

Hell, he might be happier that he showed up than you are.

You hear him laugh, and it’s deep, as he’s guided into the restaurant. And you can’t help but smile as you see him. He’s handsome, very handsome, and he has such a positive energy beaming from him. His face seems warm despite being chilled by the wetness of the rain. There’s pink in his cheeks and at the tip of his nose as he continues to smile kindly.

And, really, you’re speechless.

He smiles so sweetly, you almost didn’t recognise him, as he takes his seat opposite to you. And he thanks you for the wine. His eyes betray him as he looks at you with optimism. You know him, you’ve always known him. Those amber eyes that you’ve never seen in another man again since him. They seem so kind, now.

But you know better.

While he knows nothing.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” he grins, looking briefly over the menu. “I got stuck in traffic and then I had a hard time in the car park.” he laughs, his thumb indicating he’s referring to the multi-story car park down the road. The one notorious for its broken machines and confusing layout.

“Well, you’re here now.” you smile, weakly. Tipping the remaining contents of your glass until it flows between your lips. It goes down smooth and you almost feel it swim directly to your braincells, feeling slightly faint until your senses return to you again. You blink it away, and your eyes squint at him suspiciously. “Excuse me, I have to pee.” you tell him.

“Oh, sure.” he smiles. “Should I order for you if the waiter comes by? What would you like?”

“Are you paying or are we splitting the bill?” you wonder, taking his menu from his hand before he can even register that it’s gone. Your eyes scan the menu quickly, not looking for anything in particular.

“I’m old fashioned, so—”

“Great, then I want this.” you tell him, pointing to the most expensive meal on the menu as you place it back into his grip. He chuckles, gently, before looking up at you. Your smile filled with anger and malice as you turn on your heel to find the bathroom. “Oh, and an expensive meal should be paired with an expensive drink, right?” you tell him, leaving before he can respond.

He watches as you approach a waiter, asking where you can find the bathroom. They point you in the right direction. But before you go, you point towards the table your date is still seated at, telling them you’re ready to order. You ascend the staircase to the second floor and slip away into the bathroom and out of your dates line of sight.

Your heart pounds furiously.

Little hands shake as you search for your phone in your purse. Christ, you could use a cigarette right now. You feel light-headed as you take deeper and deeper breaths as you pull up your texts, your fingers tremble as you lean against the sinks.

YOU: do you hate me? be honest MAISIE MOO 🐮: ???? what’s wrong? Do u think he’s ugly? YOU: no he isn’t ugly. ANNOYINGLY. UGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! MAISIE MOO 🐮: … MAISIE MOO 🐮: what? YOU: do u remember me telling u about a school bully 😊 MAISIE MOO 🐮: stop it YOU: YOU SET ME UP ON A DATE WITH MY BULLY!! WHAT DO I DO?? MAISIE MOO 🐮: NOOOOOOOOOO MAISIE MOO 🐮: OMG OMG OMG IM SORRY MAISIE MOO 🐮: FUCK YOU: I told him to order me the most expensive stuff on the menu bc he’s paying.. so I might just eat and dip MAISIE MOO 🐮: stopppppp omg lmk when ur done I will pick u up im so sorry ily

You sigh, putting your phone back in your purse. Is that really the right thing to do? Maybe not right, it’s morally wrong, of course. But is it the best decision to make? Do you really want to sit and eat a meal you probably won’t enjoy with your former bully watching your every move?

“Fuck.” you whisper to yourself. You decide to pee while you’re here, and you wash your hands for longer than you intended. It’s distracting you from your worries as you stare at yourself in the mirror and feel the comfort of the warm water encasing your hands as you clean them. You shake them when your done, little drops of water landing back in the sink before you go to the hand dryer. Maybe you’re stalling. You’re definitely stalling as you realise you’re drying your hands for far too long.

With one final look into the mirror, you take a deep breath and decide to return to your date. He smiles as he sees you descend the stairs again. And instinctively, you smile back. It’s a habit you’ve developed, not necessarily a bad one. But in this instance, it feels like a betrayal to yourself. You tell yourself to remain straight faced as you sit down, pulling your chair closer to the table.

“I’m Rensuke, by the way. I realise I didn’t introduce myself.” he grins, beaming white teeth almost blinding you as he awkwardly holds his hand out for you to shake. “Sorry, been a while since I had a date.” he laughs as he puts his hand down.

“I know who you are.” you laugh in return, though it’s not because of what he said. You just can’t help but find yourself amused over the fact he doesn’t recognise you. He laughs, too, looking a little uncomfortable all the while. He scratches his head as he nods, coming to his own conclusion.

“Oh, right. You’re a football fan, then? Sorry, you didn’t strike me as the type.” he continues, assuming you’re familiar with him through his fame. You hold your eyes shut for a beat too long, an annoyed smirk creeping its way onto your face as you try to bite your tongue.

“Sure, let’s go with that.” you comment, taking a swig from your newly filled wine glass. He cocks his head in confusion, but drinks with you. “So, why are you here? In London, I mean. I assumed you’d be… not here.” you ask, unable to control your tongue. There’s venom in your words, but not enough to kill.

“Um, I—” he clears his throat, coughing into his balled-up fist. His honeyed eyes find yours again, an incredulous look appears on his face as he formulates his thoughts in his mind. “I feel like I’m being set up.” he chuckles, though you can sense the worry behind his voice.

You take another sip from your wine glass. A sip turns to a glug as you empty the red liquid from the crystalline glass. You refill it yourself; sensing things are about to go south very quickly.

“This wasn’t really a blind date, right? Maisie told you who I am and you wanted to meet me. Am I right?” he wonders. And at that, you do scoff. And now you’ve lost all interest in holding your tongue.

“Oh my God. You’re so full of yourself, you haven’t changed at all.” you tell him, crossing one leg over the other as you rummage through your purse in search of a cigarette that will never appear. “I had no idea I was being set up with you. If I knew that, I wouldn’t have agreed.” you tell him without remorse. Defeated, you throw your purse down to the ground by your feet.

There’s a sense of shame flaring within you that you couldn’t keep it together until the end of your date. Of all the people roaming planet earth right now, why did he have to be your blind date? You stare at him as you observe his confused expression, he’s utterly bewildered by your words.

“I’m… we’ve met before, huh? I’m sorry, I’m having trouble remembering. I— are you a fan? Or… were you?” he asks, trying to decipher your identity. You scoff, again, preparing to stand to your feet. He reaches across the table and grabs your wrist. You look down at his large, veiny hand and then into his eyes. Your own vibrating with a slight twinge of fear. You feel like that teenage girl all over again.

“Let. Go.” you warn him, voice quiet through your gritted teeth. He relinquishes his hold of you instantly, apologising profusely. He’s just confused about what he could have done for you to hold such disdain for him. But your warning replays in his mind like a record on repeat. It’s like his fractured memories are forming again, becoming whole as he hears your voice again and again.

Let go.

You sounded so much weaker back then. You’re more defiant, now.

“Are you Ryusei Shidou’s little cousin?” he asks, eyes widening and brows raising in excitement. You sigh, sitting properly in your chair with correct posture as your eyes look angrily at him.

“No, I told you—”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re not really cousins your families are just close. I remember.” he smiles. His eyes almost dazzle as he looks at you, all recollection of his past hits him like lightning as he repeats your name again and again like a mantra. “Is that really you?”

“It’s really me.” you repeat, sarcastically. “Cancel the food order, you can still pay for the wine.” you tell him as you pick up your purse and prepare to leave.

“What? Why? We should catch up!” he tells you, an expectant look on his face as he hopes to convince you.

“I don’t want to catch up with you?” you tell him.

“But… why not? It’s been so long since we saw each other.”

You signal the maître d’ when you finally catch his attention. Rensuke looks disappointed as you continue to ignore him. Instead, you alert the man that you’ll be leaving early and to cancel your orders. But you make sure to tell him that Rensuke will happily cover the bill. And he does, hastily pulling out a wad of cash from his wallet as you depart the restaurant. He hurries after you, he’s in slight disbelief when he realises how fast you are. You’re almost halfway down the road when he finally exits the restaurant.

“Slow down!” he calls out to you, running right up behind you until he’s walking at your pace. He opens his umbrella and holds it above your head as you carry on walking. “You’re gonna get sick if you keep this up.”

“Leave me alone.”

“At least take my umbrella.” he requests, “I’ll go to my car and leave right now if that’s what you really want. But at least take it while you wait for a ride home.”

You accept, not too proud to take something that might offer you a small comfort in the absolutely obscene downpour plaguing the city. How quickly you’ve transformed from a vixen to a drowned rat. He must be loving this.

“I really would like to catch up with you, y’know…” he smiles.

You look up at him as the rain soaks his gorgeous gingery locks dampening and sticking to his forehead. Maybe he has changed. It’s been years after all. He’s grown up, it’s plain to see from his chiselled jawline alone. And he was always big back then. One of the tallest guys in your class, and so big and beefy to boot from playing so much football and training in the gym.

He terrified you.

And now, he’s bigger. An inch or two taller and completely filled out into an even more muscular physique.

“I can take you home, too. You don’t need to talk to me if you don’t want to… but, it’s freezing. You’ll be waiting ages for a taxi or for Maisie to come get you.” he speaks softly. And unfortunately, he’s right. You know all too well how tough it is to get taxis around this time, but it would be worse if it was the weekend so at least you’re thankful for it being a Thursday. You want to decline. You’re so ready to decline.

But for some reason—

“Okay.” you nod. You walk ahead, though, leaving him behind as you walk to the parking complex you’re pretty confident that he used. He laughs, hurrying after you again and allowing you to lead the way. It seems you know the area way better than him.

He guides you to the elevator and to the top floor of the complex. You aren’t sure what you expected when you step out. It’s not like you’re familiar with cars. But you were expecting some kind of expensive sports model. A Ferrari or something. Instead, you’re greeted to a black Range Rover.

It’s definitely outside of your pay grade, but you can’t help but feel a little disappointed.

“I thought you’d have a nicer car, Rensuke.” you decide to goad him, thinking it’s the least he deserves at this point.

“This is my incognito car.” he smirks, looking over his shoulder at you as he unlocks it. Of course he has an incognito car. You huff a little as he helps you up and into it, closing the door behind you. He circles around the back and you see him looking around in the boot before he comes to the driver's side and sits behind the wheel. He gives you a towel, presumably used for his training days, and tells you to dry off. “My nicer cars are at home, sorry to disappoint.”

“Oh, wait…” you snicker as a thought comes to you. “Were you gonna try and pretend you’re a nobody if I didn’t recognise you?”

His face fills with a pink hue as he feels completely caught out. And you can’t help but burst into hysterics. It’s tough for him, meeting girls who will actually like him for him and not his bank account. When Maisie suggested a blind date, he thought it was as good a chance as any to try and form a natural connection.

“Anyway, I’ll take you home now.” he tells you, trying to change the subject. “Sorry the date didn’t go to plan.”

You huff, again, as you try to dry your skin with the towel. Eventually you give up and use it as a horribly soggy blanket. “I can’t believe you even wanted to go on a blind date. Girls used to throw themselves at you in school. I told Maisie a blind date seemed really desperate.”

“Did we go to the same school? I was a virgin ‘til we left.” he informs you. You look at him, surprised, and he nods to clarify. “I was focused on football and shit, didn’t have time for girls.”

“Well, you had time to bully one girl.” you remind him, regretting saying it instantly. You thought confronting him would feel better than this, cooler. Like you can finally get closure and make him feel almost a fraction as bad as he made you feel back then. But instead, really, it just feels… cringe.

He offers a weak smile at you. The tension could be cut with a knife as he pulls out of his parking space and drives down each floor. He wants to say something, and really, so do you. Maybe you should just let the hatred go. It was a really long time ago, after all.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t a good guy back then, but I like to think I’ve changed a lot.” he speaks, eyes focusing on the road as the street lights and car beams blind him in the rain. “Your cousin bullied me, y’know. Dunno if he ever told you, but I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair though, so I’m really sorry.”

“He is not—”

“Yeah, yeah. I got it, princess.” he smirks, “I wouldn’t want to claim a relation to that blonde freak either.”

The insult towards Ryusei makes you laugh. You’re still close with him to this day, and ‘blonde freak’ is the perfect descriptor. But you don’t like to think of him as being capable of bullying. You had a feeling that was why you were subject to Rensuke’s torment each day, but you didn’t want to discover the truth. He always made it a point to vilify you for being related to Ryusei. Though you adamantly denied it each time.

“So, you were a prick to me for being related to someone I wasn’t even related to?” you respond, seriously. It’s a hard pill to swallow. Though you’re unsure any answer to his bullying would have made you feel better. It hurts to know you suffered so much, ultimately, for nothing. “Wish I told him you were picking on me, he would have fucking killed you.”

“Yeah, I don’t doubt that.” he laughs a little. It’s soft, but not weak. It’s almost like acceptance. As though he deserves anything and everything you’ll throw at him. “We’re good now, though, if we’re in the same place we’ll meet up for drinks. He’s a fucking good player, too. Always admired him. He kept me in my place for a long, long time.”

You stare at him as he speaks. How have you never noticed how soft his features are? He’s so relaxed, peaceful. He looks at you briefly when he notices you staring, but just as quickly looks at the road again as his cheeks fill with heat, reddened with embarrassment.

“I was immature…” you start, looking down at your shivering, wet thighs as you decide to accept your own faults, too. “It’s been a long time since then. And we were young, it’s obvious that you’ve changed. I didn’t give you a chance and I was childish.”

“No, no—”

“I’m serious. Ordering the most expensive stuff and going off in a strop, that was really immature so... I’m sorry.” you tell him, and he smiles at that. He can’t help but think you’re a great girl. He looks over at you again, smiling so widely his eyes close.

“You never gave me your address, y’know.” he reminds you, laughing when the realisation hits you that you’d let him drive off with no real destination in mind. “Is it too late for that catch up?” he wonders, looking at you with hopeful eyes. The orange and brown colour tainted with sparkles of red as the stop light reflects from them.

And you’re powerless.

You find yourself agreeing before your brain can even keep up with the way you’re shaking your head. No, it isn’t too late. And his smile is almost as blinding as the headlights of each car in the road illuminating the falling raindrops and deep puddles forming in the street.

“I know where we can go…” he thinks to himself

Bowling.

You never thought you’d be coming somewhere like this. Truthfully, you feel like a kid again. You remember skimming some money from your daily lunch allowance given by your parents to save up enough to go to the arcade every weekend with your friends. Saving the extra coins to use the DDR machine.

Let’s just say you mastered Captain Jack on expert difficulty.

“Another strike? You’re too good, puttin’ me to shame.” Kunigami laughs before picking up a ball and preparing for his turn. “You better not tell anyone you thrashed me; my reputation will be in tatters.” he warns you, jokingly.

You watch him as he takes a swing and hits all but two pins, leaving an awkward split between them. You hear him mutter under his breath but can’t decipher whatever it is he was talking about.

For some reason, you feel like he’s going easy on you. It’s not like he was a stranger to the arcade either back in the day. You always scarpered whenever he showed up with his friends, deciding it was the perfect time to grab a bite to eat and hope by the time you were done they’d be gone.

“I wouldn’t have invited you here if I knew you were gonna show me up like this.” he smiles, sitting next to you after completing his turn. “I didn’t know you liked bowling, thought you just liked using the dance machines.”

“You remember?”

“Yeah, uh,” he chuckles and scratches the back of his neck as he recalls the memories from way back then. “Me ‘n Raichi, remember Raichi? Anyway, girls on the dance mats… well, we were teenagers, so—”

“Oh my God you’re so embarrassing.” you interrupt him to put a stop to his stuttering.

“Look, it was a sexual awakening that’s all I’m saying.” he laughs. “And you were the best one, never missed a step. I remember we used to watch you for ages before we came in to scare you away.”

“Disgusting. Pair of perverts!” you lightly smack his arm as you continue to tease him. “I was good, though. Wonder if I could still pull it off…” you look at the machines in the distance as you contemplate restoring your former glory, you feel a newfound sense of confidence as you think about Rensuke finding you attractive back then.

You decide to go for it.

He follows you as you approach the machine, standing on the second player arrows right next to you.

“Always wanted to try!” he shrugs as you look at him suspiciously. “You can teach me.”

“No, I can’t.” you laugh, slotting two-pound coins into the machine so you can both play. “It’s just memory and hoping your feet will respond in time. Good luck, though.”

“Yeah, sounds like you have real faith in me.” he rolls his eyes, throwing his coat over the red metal bar behind him and rolling up his sleeves. You quickly kick off your high heels as you scroll through the songs. You hover over Captain Jack, and his face lights up as memories of you back then flow through his mind. “You always did this one. There was a different one I remember liking, though…” he tells you.

He starts to scroll through the songs, listening to them carefully as he searches for the one he remembers. Your eyes widen in horror as he settles on one, and he looks at you with pride.

“This one!” he exclaims, loudly.

“No, no way. I could never get the hang of it and I’m even more out of practice now. Afronova is too hard it won’t even be fun!” you warn him, but he wiggles his eyebrows at you teasingly. “Let’s do it la—” he interrupts you by pressing the select button.

“It can’t be that hard.”

“You put it on the hardest difficult, idiot. We’re fucked!” you laugh, but get into position. You’re both definitely going to fuck it up, but at the very least you’ll get a good laugh out of seeing him eat his words.

All colour drains from his face as he sees all of the arrows immediately come into view on the screen. He barely knows where to look let alone where to plant his feet. He looks at your side of the screen, though, seeing you miss a fair few moves yourself but you manage to keep up the pace enough to earn some words of praise from the machine.

If you’d know you were going to be doing this, you definitely would have worn a bra. You hold your arms across your chest as you continue to jump and follow along with the arrows as best you can. Kunigami, however, decided to give up and watch you instead. He puts his feet down a few times on ones he think he might actually be able to get.

You’re left panting by the time the song comes to an end and your final foot stomp leaves you breathless. Rensuke claps, proudly.

“Fucking hell.” you gasp for air, leaning over the red bar behind you. You think you might actually throw up. “You dick, you barely did anything either.”

“I was captivated by the master at work, you were amazing!” he praises you, and you can’t help but giggle. “I think we should do an easy one next.”

“Agreed…” you respond, flipping through the songs until you land on 5678 by Steps.

You both laugh and joke as you easily follow along with the routine on baby mode. And it’s easy to keep up a conversation with him like this. Discussing more memories of spotting each other in the arcade and what you got up to on weekends.

It makes you sad, in a way. Knowing how sweet he is now and what he was capable of back then. You could have been friends, great friends. Maybe even best friends. Though you’re sure Raichi wouldn’t have liked that.

He allows you to pick your favourite song for the final round. And, naturally, he can’t keep up with you. But this time he actually does his best. But for you, it’s like muscle memory. You don’t miss a single step through the whole routine and you don’t even feel out of breath when it’s over. Kunigami however is sweating and panting again, his already wet hair sticking onto his forehead again as the sweat clings to it.

“It’s getting late.” you tell him, “Should we get some gross bowling alley food and call it a night?” you wonder, moving to pick up your discarded high heels so that you can decide what to do.

He rushes by you and hops off of the step, snatching your shoes up before you can. You watch him, nervously, as he gets down on one knee while holding your black pumps. You’re too speechless to object when he helps you slip your feet back into them, so delicately. And he smiles up at you from his lowly position as you gain another six inches of height. He holds his hand out to you, helping you down the step after you take it.

You exhale, deeply, after feeling how unbelievably soft his hands are.

“I think I’ll get a hot dog.” he thinks, not letting go of your hand and he leads you up the small flight of stairs and into the eating area.

“Oh, the burgers were good last time I came here.”

“Ohhhh fuck you’re right, I’m getting one too.” he laughs, ushering you into a secluded spot to sit down. “What do you want to drink? I’ll run up and order everything now.” he smiles.

You quickly look through the drinks menu and tell him you want a strawberry and lime Kopparberg. He nods approvingly at your choice. You watch him walk up to the bar to order, unable to take your eyes off him. He’s chatty with the bartender, and you wonder what else they’re talking about. You see him grab a pad of paper and a pen from behind the bar, handing them over to Rensuke. And he smiles, happily, signing it for him. You see the man thanking him over and over before Rensuke walks back over to you.

“You only just got recognised?” you tease him.

“It’s rarer than you’d think, y’know.” he laughs, “he said his kid is a fan. No big deal.” he shrugs, sliding your drink over to you.

He moves on from the subject of his fame and status in favour of complimenting you again. Telling you how talented you are and how fun it’s been hanging out with you again. You end up telling him about your job. It’s nothing fancy but pays the bills. You tell him about how you pretty much fell into the job of doing admin work for a law firm and now you’re training to be a solicitor.

His face lights up as you tell him. Like he’s proud. Or maybe it’s a twinge of relief that he didn’t fuck you up mentally enough to ruin your life. Either way, his smile is contagious. It only grows wider when your two plates of food are put down in front of you. And you hate that you’re trying to eat politely. There is absolutely no way to eat a dirty burger in a ladylike manner. He laughs at you when a dollop of ketchup drops on your chest and tries to slither down your cleavage. But, ever the gentleman, he cleans it up quickly with a napkin.

“Sorry,” he hesitates after realising how intimate it is. He hands it to you and you finish clearing your chest. “Good call on the burgers, though, they’re so good.”

You smile as you chew your food, still doing all you can to appear polite and demure. But he doesn’t mind, or care. Canines tear his burger apart with ease, and he can’t seem to stop himself from smiling each time he looks at you.

“So,” you start, putting down the final bite of your burger in favour of taking a swig of your drink. “You perving over me, did that affect the bullying?” you wonder, laughing lightly as he almost chokes on his food.

“I wasn’t perving, it was, I— ugh. I always thought you were cute. But I wasn’t about to tell you that.”

“You thought I was cute?”

“Oh, like you didn’t have a big fat crush on me? I heard the rumours.” Kunigami laughs, drinking his beer as he leans back into his seat.

“No, no, rumours and hearsay. I told one girl I thought you were hot on our first day and it turned into a game of broken telephone and spread like wildfire. I hated you!”

“Sure, sweetheart.” he winks before taking another drink. “Don’t worry, I can keep a secret.”

You shake your head, opting to finish your burger instead of disputing it further. He does the same, leaning back and sighing with relief before taking another drink. He slaps his stomach, as if he’s gained a beer bellying rather than possessing the rock-hard abs that you know reside there.

“This was fun. Really fun.” he tells you, crossing his arms over his chest as he continues to get comfortable in the booth seat. You nod, agreeing. “What are we calling… this?” he wonders.

“What do you mean?”

“Was it just a ‘catch up’ or could it still have been a date?” he asks, smiling when your eyes widen and your face flushes with heat so much that you feel the need to fan yourself. You tell him that you’re just hot from eating, but another cocky eye roll tells you that he’s not buying that. “I’m hoping you’ll say it was a date, if you were wondering.” he speaks, low and gravelly as he leans across the table to tell you.

“Well, it was technically a date. Just not the location we’d planned.”

“I enjoyed this a lot more.” he tells you, looking around at all of the arcade machines and the people bowling in the distance. “I go to snooty restaurants a lot, I don’t get a chance to relax like this as much. So, thank you.”

“R-Right, no problem.” you smile, unsure of what to say. “I guess we should get going, then.” you finish, gathering yourself and clutching onto your purse as you prepare to shuffle out of the booth. He looks a little deflated, then, but he follows your lead.

He puts his arm around you as he guides you to his car, helping you inside again. He even gives you his jacket to wear when he notices you shivering. Though you opt to wear it over yourself like a blanket.

You look out of the window as he climbs inside and shuts the door. The rain stopped while you were bowling, but it’s still so dark out. It’s damp and dreary, it’s just miserable, really. But the cold chill of staring out into the black abyss leaves you when Kunigami turns on the radio. Some generic pop music you’ve never heard in your life, and it makes you feel old and out of touch. But the face he pulls says the same story, and he begins flicking through other stations until he hears something he recognises.

“S-So… do you live nearby?” you ask him, curiously.

“I do! Just got a new place a few weeks ago, I’m still unpacking.” he smiles as he envisions all of the moving boxes still piled up in each room. “So where am I taking you?”

“If you go to Maisie’s office I can direct you from there.” you tell him, clicking your seatbelt into place as he pulls up directions on his phone to the office. You look out of the front window when you hear raindrops begin to pitter patter again. “Um… Rensuke…” you start, hesitating to speak as you wonder what the fuck you’re even thinking of doing right now.

“What’s up?” he asks, eyes darting to you before he starts the car. The only thing that can be heard is the light drops of rain. It makes your skin jitter, you feel a chill as you look at Kunigami, the rain rolling down the windows in your peripheral vision and you feel thankful to be here and not out there.

You feel desperate. And you’re sure you’re going to humiliate yourself, but you don’t want the night to end. In a million years, you never would have pictured yourself enjoying the company of Rensuke Kunigami. He’s a busy man, you’re sure. He fit you into his busy schedule and you’re sure he has better things to do than spend all of his free time on a date. A date that is supposed to be drawing to a close.

But you don’t say that.

In fact, you barely say anything.

He can’t help but smile, though, knowing exactly where your next destination will be.

“I don’t want tonight to end, either.” he confesses. You feel your body become lighter as you realise he feels the same way. He starts the car promptly, and you note how sure he is about where he’s taking you. “Can I show you my new place?” he asks.

He’s so cocksure as he says it. His eyes don’t meet yours and you sense it’s because he knows you’ll say yes. And who are you to disappoint? You’re curious, anyway. You wonder if it will be as impressive as you’re envisioning in your mind. Footballers are rich, aren’t they? But maybe he isn’t a high earning player. Either way, you’re curious to see the home that your former bully has worked so hard for.

You lose track of time as you pull up to his house. Or mansion, you should say. He’s allowed through the security gate currently being manned by a member of staff, and he drives up and towards a three door garage. You can’t believe you’re visiting somewhere like this, it feels like a dream.

It’s something Maisie is accustomed to, Rensuke even tells you how confidently she strutted around and didn’t even bat an eyelid when she came over to discuss his contract. But you’re left speechless as more comes into view.

He doesn’t bother parking in the garage, pulling up directly to the stairs leading up to the front door. He’s out first, doing a little jog around your side to open the door and help you out.

“I didn’t bring you here to brag, by the way.” he insists.

“And here I was thinking you were trying to woo me into bed.” you laugh, and laugh harder the redder his face becomes. He holds his hands up defensively, waving them dismissively as he tries to assure you that was not his intention.

“I’ll take you home right after if you want! I swear I wasn’t—”

“Relax! I was teasing you.” you tell him, bumping into him as you enter the mansion. He offers you a drink, which you accept, happily. He pours you a glass of wine but gets himself some water directly from the tap. “You aren’t drinking?” you question, feeling a little uncomfortable that you’re drinking alone.

“I won’t be able to take you home if I drink more than I already have.” he chuckles, handing your wine to you.

He drinks his water, and you take a sip of your wine. His smile, that beautiful smile, it’s so disarming. You’re tottering on your heels to walk by his side as he encourages you to follow him. You feel as though time is flying when he takes you from room to room. There are still moving boxes in each room but it doesn’t detract from the lavishness of it all.

You laugh when he tells you there’s a tennis court out back.

“What are you going to do with a tennis court?” you giggle.

“Play tennis, I suppose.” he laughs back.

You don’t mind even a little when you feel his cold hand come into contact with the even colder skin between your shoulder blades. You mind even less when his hand snakes down your spine and settles in the small of your back as he guides you to the next room.

“Oh wow…” you express, hit by the warmth of the room. Your heels clack against the tiles with each step you take. You leave his side as you get closer and closer to your target. And you scream, smacking Kunigami’s arm as he rushes behind you and presses his fingers into your sides. “An indoor pool… you’ve really fucking made it.” you tell him, and he shrugs.

“There’s one outside as well.” he informs you.

“Now that was a brag.” you laugh.

“Shit, was it?”

“Absolutely.

You crouch down to the balls of your feet, letting your fingers swim through the pristine pool water. You aren’t quite sure how to describe the colour of it, but it’s mesmerising, as if sage and turquoise paint mixed specifically to fill this pool.

He takes your hand and encourages you to stand upright again. And he doesn’t let go as he leads you out of the room. The thought of going back to your poky apartment after being in here is harrowing.

It almost feels like he’s doing charity work.

There’s a rumble outside that causes you both to stop in your tracks. And once you enter the living room again, you see the heavy rain pouring down violently on the windows again. It’s louder than before. The raindrops are weightier.

He squeezes your hand as you yelp after seeing a bolt of lightning pierce through the sky. You look up at him, eyes full of grace as those honeyed eyes warm your soul for the umpteenth time tonight.

“There’s a weather warning from The Met Office…” he tells you as he checks the time on his phone. He lets go of your hand to look at you again, unsure of what to say. “I can take you home… before it gets any worse…” he whispers. His voice betrays him, though. You can hear the voice of a liar interspersed with his desperation to be a good guy.

He doesn’t want you to leave.

You don’t want to leave, either.

“It’s… dangerous, though…” you start, looking out of the window again at the gloomy weather.

“In that case…” he bends down, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear. “You should stay.”

You mewl, softly, as he not-quite kisses against your ear and the smooth skin behind it. And your head tilts, for him, so that he can press one final kiss against your neck. You don’t want it to stop, but he withdraws himself with a cheeky smirk while your eyes are heavy with lust.

It’s been so long.

Too long.

You might have lived your whole life up to now without being kissed like that.

He curls his finger, instructing you to follow him back upstairs. You put down your wine glass and hurry after him. He doesn’t wait, this time, leading ahead as he brings you to one of the bedrooms.

“Wait here.” he commands, and you do.

You walk up to the standing mirror against the wall and check yourself out. Trying to make sure you makeup hasn’t smudged or there isn’t food in your teeth. Your hair is still soaked, but that can’t be helped. When he walks back into the room you quickly back away from the mirror as if you’d been caught doing something wrong.

“The bathroom is just opposite to here.” he reminds you, pointing.

You look down at the pile of items he brought in from another room. There’s an unopened three-pack of toothbrushes and a brand-new tube of toothpaste. You can’t help but smile when you pick up the rolled-up ball of white, fluffy bed socks.

And you hate to admit how your knees go weak when you realise he’s gifted you with his football jersey to sleep in for the night. There are shorts, too, but you doubt you’ll need them. You want to keep your dress on for as long as possible. You’ll just sleep in the jersey and your panties when you’re ready.

“Thank you.” you smile at him. You notice the tips of his ears and his nose turn a blush pink as he sees you holding up his jersey and modelling it against your body.

He doesn’t say anything as he leaves the room, giving you the space you need to do whatever it is you’re planning on doing. You take the opportunity to freshen up, you pick up the dental hygiene products he’d thoughtfully left for you and head to the bathroom. You catch his figure slipping into his own bedroom and closing the door behind himself.

Your mind runs rampant now that you’re truly alone. Look where you are. You’re brushing your teeth and preparing to spend the night in Rensuke Kunigami’s house. Sorry, mansion. How the fuck did this happen? Your heart begins to race. Are you actually going to fuck him?

You can’t.

You can’t.

You can already feel your inner child cussing you out for letting him kiss you like he did, no matter how brief it was. It helps, slightly, to tell yourself you have a reason to spend the night. The weather. It would be dangerous to drive in weather like this.

But, Christ, you can feel your cunt throb with want as you think about him railing you in every room of the house.

“Stop.” you whisper to yourself.

You finish brushing your teeth and spit into the sink. And that is when an idea hits you. You splash your face with water and find some cleansing wipes in the cupboard underneath. You start getting ready for bed. Because that is what you should be doing. Sleeping, alone, until you can go home.

When you’re done clearing your face you decide to slip into the clothes Kunigami gave you to wear. Even the ill-fitting, downright hideous shorts.

You emerge from the room, and see Kunigami appear again with a wide smile.

“Hey—”

“I think I’m gonna go to bed.” you blurt out, awkwardly, and Rensuke stops in his tracks.

“Oh… really?”

“Yeah I’m… tired.” you lie, already turning back into your room. “Goodnight.” you call out, not bothering to look at him as you’re already shutting the door behind yourself.

“Goodnight.” he replies, the disappointment in his voice doesn’t go amiss.

You can’t.

You just can’t.

You can’t fucking sleep.

It’s closing in on midnight when you check the time, and you have a multitude of texts from Maisie blowing up your phone. You can’t bear to respond, though. Not after all of the horror stories you told her about Rensuke. The thought of her knowing that you’re spending the night at his house is just embarrassing. Even though it is innocent enough. You didn’t even kiss, really. You’re just sleeping until morning.

But you can’t sleep.

Your mind is racing with ideas of what could have happened if you didn’t say goodnight. What else could you have gotten up to if you hadn’t had your responsible brain hardwired in. You’re thankful for it, you are. But just because it’s responsible doesn’t mean it’s always right. Right? It’s been so long since you’ve gotten fucked.

Are you depriving yourself over something so trivial?

You throw off your duvet and prepare to leave the room. You’re not looking for him. In fact, you’re hoping he’s asleep, like you should be. But if he catches you roaming the halls, you’ll just tell him you were going to use the bathroom.

The corridors are cold. The chill in the air caresses your no longer covered thighs, you discarded the shorts barely any time after you said goodnight.

You aren’t sure where you’re going, you only have the flash from your phone to light the way. You’re sure he wouldn’t mind you turning the lights on, but you don’t want him to catch you if he is awake. And you don’t want the light creeping into his room to disturb him if he did actually manage to get to sleep.

When you find yourself in the same room as the swimming pool, you have no idea how you even got here. It’s like you were summoned. It’s a mermaid’s lagoon and you were drawn in by a sirens song.

You can’t remember the last time you swam. It’s not like the weather is ever nice enough for it, and you hate public pools. But this… it might even help you feel tired enough to sleep.

You look behind you and approach a set of loungers.

As you’re about to pull Kunigami’s jersey over your head, you screech. The sound of breaching water echoes through the room and you turn around, sharply, to see the source.

“Are you okay?” he bellows, his voice reverberating through the room. “Were you looking for me?”

“Jesus Christ,” you yell, laughing soon after. “I- I couldn’t sleep. You almost gave me a heart attack, I didn’t even know you were in here!” you tell him, truthfully, and he laughs. He swims under the water from one end of the pool to the other. You stand at the edge when he comes up for air again. “I just couldn’t sleep.” you confess, though it sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself. Your voice is quiet and mousy so that your words won’t carry throughout the room.

“Me neither.” he tells you, looking up at you as he does. You notice his eyes stray, catching a glimpse of your panties under his jersey before he shamefully looks away. But he looks, again, as he admires you in his jersey. “Why can’t you sleep?” he asks, the sound of water pouring is boisterous as he raises his hand and pats the edge of the pool.

You look at it, his hand, and understand what he’s doing.

You can’t.

You can’t.

But you do. You crouch down, submerging your lower legs in the warm liquid while it ripples against the back of your thighs and ass. Your breath hitches when you feel his hand on your thighs and raking up the sides. He stands up, his forehead resting against yours as water cascades from his soaking body.

You can’t bring yourself to care when you feel it splash up against you.

The only thing on your mind is how close he is.

“Why can’t you sleep, baby?” he tells you in hushed tones. The weight of his words and the way he speaks them makes your body limp. But he’s there to keep you upright. He angles his head so that his eyes, those honey pot eyes, can focus on you. Your words die on your tongue as you try and formulate a lie.

One won’t come.

“Why did you say you were going to bed when you weren’t tired?” he whispers, again, and you feel your resolve begin to crumble. He’s like an archaeologist, meticulously brushing at an ancient relic that he has no business handling.

He should have left you be.

“I… I don’t know, Rensuke.” you lie. And it’s an awful lie. He’s grinning from ear to ear as he hears you struggle to think of anything better than that. He knows. You both know. That’s why you can’t object when he pulls you closer. His hands force your legs around his waist. How did you get here?

“You look good, princess,” he tells you, tugging gently as his jersey, looking down at the strip that drapes like silk over your cute tits and perfect frame. “Want you to have it…”

“But it’s yours.” you respond. You’re a little taken aback by how demure your voice is as you speak. It’s like you’re instinctively making yourself small for him. Your inner child is protecting you, still to this day. He shakes his head at your words, though.

“It’s yours, I’ve got plenty.” he assures you. He keeps a tight grip of your thighs as he begins to walk you further into the pool. You wrap your arms around his neck and will yourself to remain some semblance of control. But he smirks, his nose touching yours before he pulls away again. “You’re coming for a swim… do you want to take it off?” he wonders.

Your eyes widen in horror as you recall your decision to decision to forgo a bra, knowing it would ruin your outfit. You shake your head, defiantly.

You can’t.

You can’t.

“I’m not wearing anything underneath…” you inform him. He chuckles, at that. In his mind, he knows. And deep down, you know it too. If you don’t find your willpower soon, your bare-naked form won’t be an issue. He closes his eyes and holds them shut, laughing when you repeat his name a few times in an attempt to get him to open them again.

“Take it off, ‘m not looking. You can hide under the water.”

Your movements are halted but for barely any time at all. He has a way of making you submit to anything he wants and you aren’t sure why that is. You were so mad at him hours ago. You didn’t even want to have dinner with him.

But look at you now.

Your legs are wrapped tight around his waist and you’re throwing his football jersey away. It doesn’t land on a lounger, but near enough. And you hold onto his shoulders as he begins to walk you both deeper and deeper into the pool. You don’t want him to feel you, not like that.

It’s getting out of hand.

You can’t stop it.

You can’t help it.

“You can open your eyes.” you tell him, and he stops walking. His eyes slowly open and it takes an incredible amount of restraint for his eyes to not wander beneath the water. And, you feign innocence. You aren’t sure what is wrong with you, because you know you shouldn’t have. But you look away, pretending something in the distance has piqued your interest.

You give him the opportunity to leer at you.

And he’s so thankful.

Even submerged and obscured by the greenish, dithering water, your body looks like an oil painting. To him, you’re a work of art and he’s grateful that you’re even letting him experience you in the slightest. But this… you’re a masterpiece, he thinks.

“Hey,” he speaks, he moves a hand from your thigh to your chin and you cling to him instinctively. He guides your line of sight back to him, looking back at you with a serious stare. “You don’t need to fight me, you know.”

Your heart practically stops at that. At the very least you think it skips a beat. But you hold his stare, eyes vibrating as you look between his as you search for an explanation. Are you truly so easy to read?

He sees you wrestling with your conscience. He doesn’t want to intervene, but what else can he do? He pulls you closer to him, a surprised whimper leaving you as you feel your bare chest come into contact with his.

It doesn’t register to him, though.

You don’t fight when his lips begin to trail your own. No pressure is applied, but you’re breathing is heavy. And he can’t deny that his is matching your own.

“I’m not seventeen anymore.” he reminds you, quietly. Your eyes weld shut and your self-preservation begins to scream at you. Imploring you to have some fucking common sense.

You can’t.

You can’t.

“I know…” you confess.

You look at him briefly, giving him silent permission to proceed. And he takes it. Without hesitation he takes it as his lips capture yours in a sweet kiss. You feel like you’re in a romance novel as it continues. It’s polite but not entirely tame. And for you, it’s been entirely too long since you last kissed anyone. You feel him smile into the kiss when he hears the softest little moan crawl out of your throat. But it fades, fast, when he remembers how lucky he is to be experiencing this.

He doesn’t deserve it.

He doesn’t.

And so, he takes it seriously. He brandishes the plumpness and texture of your lips to the forefront of his mind as you allow him to continue. He implants the way your body arches into his as his fingers trace up the curve of your spine, and how your mouth parts ever so slightly when he reaches the nape of your neck.

You’re perfect.

“Has it been a while? Since you had sex.” he asks, quietly, like it’s some sordid little secret. You feel embarrassed when you register what he’s asking. The insecurity creeps in and you try to pull away. He doesn’t let you, though, pulling you closer and reaffirming his interest with another searing kiss. “You’re so responsive, baby, that’s all.” he tells you.

You kiss him again.

And you feel pathetic. Like a dog humping a stuffed animal as you begin to instinctively roll your hips against him as you beg for more.

“Feels like forever…” you confess, hiding your words into another kiss and hoping he’ll forget you even uttered them. You hear him grunt when you sensually slip your tongue between his lips. He reciprocates, licking at yours as he carries you to the edge of the pool again. “W-What about you?”

You regret asking. Of course, the answer won’t be the same for him. He’s gorgeous. Beautiful, in fact. He’s rich, famous, successful. You’re another in a long line of women who throw themselves at him when given the opportunity.

You certainly aren’t naïve enough to think otherwise.

“Since I had sex? Not too long ago.” he responds, and it’s effortless. You knew. You fucking knew and yet you’re still feeling hurt. And you feel ashamed of yourself in the same breath. It doesn’t matter, really, you know who came before you and who came before him are irrelevant to what’s happening right now in this moment. But still, the feeling of embarrassment lurks. “I don’t remember the last time I fucked anyone the way I want to fuck you, though.” he finishes.

And now, you’re ravenous.

Your lips find his again. And the politeness has died, drowned in the pool along with your morals and self-respect, you figure. Your fingers grab and pull at whatever they can find. One hand finds purchase on one of his biceps and digs and squeezes into the hard flesh. The other tugs and pulls at his hair residing just above his undercut.

And he moans when you yank his pretty orange tufts. He breaks the kiss, laughing, for a moment after he recognises what you just stole from the pits of his lungs.

You feel your ass come into contact with the edge of the pool as he sits you down in the middle of a kiss. He breaks it, sinking down further into the water until you’re looking down at him. Your heart rate quickens as you feel deft fingers hook into the waistband of your panties.

And you can’t control your body, moving on autopilot as you lean back and keep your legs together as he steals the black lace from your body. He has no regard for where they land, but you hear a faint splash as they float on the surface of the pool. You won’t see them again, you think. They’re soon to absorb the chlorinated water and sink to the tiles framing the pool.

You sit back upright but find yourself unable to meet his eyes again. Instead, you stare up at the ceiling as he gently pries your thighs apart one by one. He’s slow, and careful, as he parts them. Soaking in the sight of your intricate folds.

“Pretty everywhere, huh? So fuckin’ pretty…” he expresses. You feel his thumb drift along your inner thigh to your pubis. A soft, low chuckle escapes him as it comes into contact with your pubic hair. A perfect landing strip guiding his eyes to your scintillating cunt. “You did this for me.” he states. He doesn’t ask, he tells you. And your eyes snap back to look down at him, defensively splashing him with water.

“I didn’t know it was going to be you,” you remind him. “I wanted to be prepared in case I—”

“But it was me.” he interrupts, wrapping his arms around your thighs after wiping the excess water from his face. “You’re letting me see. So it’s all for me, princess.” he continues. You don’t have a response, despite his logic seeming broken at best. It’s for him, now. But had you known who would be walking into that restaurant…

His breath fans across your heat as he places his thumb at the top of your lips and pulls back the hood of your clit. You gasp, letting your head sink as you lean back on your hands and rest your weight on them. And he spits on it, sucking at it soon after.

“’h my God…” you start, moving a hand to his hair, threading your fingers through damp, orange strands as he continues to suckle at your clit.

You’ve lost the means to feel embarrassment anymore as he looks up at you with his head buried between your thighs. Though you can’t deny the hot flush you feel as he makes a holy show of flattening his tongue between your lips and licking upwards from your oozing hole to your still exposed clit.

But you lose him, again, as he decides to focus.

He didn’t think he could burrow any deeper between your legs until you feel his still hooked arm drag you closer to the pools edge. You tug at his hair again when he finds his rhythm, and he emits another grunt that vibrates throughout your sex.

You admire how his muscles flex as his grip around your thighs intensifies. He feels how your hips begin to buck, like you’re getting there. Like he’s helping you get there but you’re still trying to run from him.

You can’t.

Not anymore.

He looks up at you with golden retriever eyes as you begin to moan. It’s quiet, until it’s not. Quiet, secretive breaths begin to turn into sinful, saccharine moans that echo right back to you as they bounce from the walls.

His nose wiggles and nestles against the perfectly formed line of your pubic hair. It tickles, but he’s always had an affinity for landing strips. It’s nothing he can’t handle. And it’s something that drives him wild.

You clamp your legs around his head as you start to dance along the cliffs edge of your orgasm. But he parts them, easily, his veins bulge in his hands as he grips tightly into the doughy flesh of your thighs.

“Ren- Rensuke—!” you cry out, unable to even warn him before he’s already dragged you into toe-curling bliss. And he prolongs it, divinely, not altering his ministrations even as you begin to shudder and scream. “S’too much, Rensuke, f-fuck…” you pant, looking down at him as he finally begins to slow down.

“’m not done, though.” he warns you. He liberates your left thigh from his grasp, but his fingers lightly trail down your inner thigh and he can’t help but marvel at the sight of your sensitivity. You twitch and spasm from the lightest of touch.

Though the whine that rips through your vocal chords is just as delightful. You couldn’t help it, you couldn’t even predict it when you felt two thick fingers seamlessly slot inside of your clenching entrance and curl up against your g-spot.

“Fuuuuuck, no, Rensuke, c-can’t.” you warn him, partially succumbing to light headedness as you feel him hone in and target your squishy slippery inner walls without remorse. You’re shivering. You’d like to think it’s just the exposure of wet skin to the stormy air, but it’s too much. You know it’s too much.

“You think too much,” he tells you, head sinking low again to continue feasting upon your gorgeously ruined flesh. Your pussy pulsates through the recent orgasm and the overstimulation. He’s going to be disappointed when he realises you can’t even fathom the idea of cumming again.

You just can’t.

Your body goes limp as he nudges a particularly delicate spot and presses down on your lower abdomen. The moan that leaves you at the feeling is downright pornographic. You can’t see, you can’t feel, but he’s smirking. He doesn’t relent, but his ego and his cock swell with pride as that salacious fucking moan plays on repeat in his brain.

The hand applying pressure ventures up north of your body. And your cunt clamps down on his fingers as his adventurous hand grabs the fat of your breasts and gropes your flesh. You moan, weakly, with no energy left in you as he tweaks at your nipple with his thumb and forefinger.

You’re pathetic, you think.

It was this easy for him to reduce you to this.

But you can’t help it. Your body is spent and you can feel another orgasm climbing through your nervous system. And yet, despite being wrecked, your body still finds the energy to clench and groan as you feel pleasure surge through you. Your toes curl, again, before they spread and widen and you try and gain some sort of control over what Rensuke is thrusting upon you.

Another scream is torn from you as you fall, no, you’re pushed from what seemed like a higher cliff than the first. Your back arches from the tile and further into Kunigami’s titillating touch.

“Rensuke, I- I…” you aren’t even sure what you want to say when you begin babbling. You manage to rest your weight on your hands again and look down at him. He showers your inner thighs with adoring kisses, they’re sweet and loving and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were falling in love.

He pulls his fingers out of your spasming walls and looks up at you. Your jaw is agape, slightly, as you feel him spit a perfect glob of saliva onto your clit without even looking. He needs to stop. You shake your head as you see the gears turn in his brain and you catch up almost instantly. You try to pull his wrist away but you’re weak.

“C-Can’t, Rensuke… no more!” you tell him, despite trying to sound firm, you just sound pathetic.

He can’t stop.

So he doesn’t.

He rubs the two fingers that were inside you just moments ago repeatedly over your throbbing clit. The smile sprawling across his face is that of a menace. He knows exactly what he’s doing. He thinks he knows your body better than you do.

And, hell, he might.

You say you can’t.

But why are you moaning for him?

“Doin’ so good for me, princess.” he tells you, kissing your inner thigh again as he continues his assault. His eyes droop as he admires how tender and overstimmed your pussy is. You can keep going, though. He’s sure of it. “You moan really pretty when you cum… ‘n I can tell she likes attention.” he speaks, it’s gruff but somehow still soft. He doesn’t look at you right away after he speaks. Instead his eyes remain focused on your tremoring cunt.

“I’m— I c-aaaan’t. Anymore, no more, ‘mmm hmrmf…” you struggle to even make sense in your mind of what you were originally trying to say as the nonsense you actually spouted takes root in your brain. He laughs, shallowly, as you try to reason with him.

You can’t reason with him, though.

Not when he knows better and your cunt is betraying your weak will.

“Goin’ dumb for me ‘cause you feel too good, huh?” he chuckles, tilting his head as he tries to command your focus on him. The way every inch of your skin trembles with pleasure makes his cock leak like he could never imagine. He’s glad he’s in the water so you can’t see what a pathetic mess your pretty noises alone have him reduced to. Though he makes a mental note to get the pool cleaned tomorrow. “Don’t need to think when you’re cumming. Jus’ cum for me. Can tell she wants to… just let go, princess.”

“Haah, hn- hnnnnng—!” you finish with a cry, you can’t believe he’s managed to make you cum three times in such quick succession.

Even as an adult, Rensuke Kunigami has found a way to reduce you into a sobbing puddle.

He frees you, eventually, allowing your body to catch up to what has just happened. He finally lets you close your legs and allow your twitching quim to recover, alleviating the pressure between them.

He hoists himself out of the water, though. And he climbs effortlessly above you. And, really, you know he’s always been a big guy. It’s arguably his most defining trait. But fuck, like this, while you’re shivering and spent, he’s fucking massive.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks. The soft, caring voice contrasts completely with his all-consuming presence. He lowers his head to kiss between the valley of your breasts and down to your navel. But he stops short and looks at you again. “We can, if you want. But… I’m having fun with you.”

You should answer. He’s asking for consent, after all. Your lips part and reseal repeatedly as you try and decide on what to say. You’re having fun, too. But can you handle it? Can you handle more of this?

“You’re so… big.” you whisper, and you don’t know where that even came from. You giggle when you see him smile at your silly comment, and he immediately has a retort spring to mind.

“My cock matches, y’know. Why d’you think I made you cum so much?” he tells you. “Well… I like making pretty girls cum anyway, but you’ll thank me. If you wanna keep going, that is.”

“I want to fuck… want you to fuck me, ‘Suke.” you admit. He lifts your back away from the cold, damp tiles and pulls you into his embrace. You receive one final, show-stopping kiss from him as he pulls down his swim shorts. You keep your eyes on him, not having the confidence to look down below.

He grabs your chin, his thumb helping tilt your head and guiding you to look at his length. And, embarrassingly, you gasp. He chuckles, kissing your forehead and you look between him and the impressive size he possesses. It’s scary, honestly, looking at how thick and heavy his cock is and what it will feel like inside.

There isn’t a doubt in your mind that you’ve never seen a dick like this and you surely won’t again. He’s big, thick. And long to boot. His tip is prominent but soft. Like you could suck it into your mouth and hear a pretty pop sound once it’s in. You could run your tongue along the ridge and make him hiss from the pleasure.

The thickness is akin to an energy drink can. Eight long inches threaten to invade your apparently well-prepared walls, but still, you aren’t so sure. His veins aren’t prominent, but they’re there. You see them running along his shaft in different directions. And then you do find one. One throbbing, prominent vein as you admire each and every inch of his heavenly member.

You’ve never had an affinity for balls. Seeing them as a nuisance that are just there rather than anything you have any interest in pleasuring. But for him. For those. You could be persuaded. They’re heavy, God they look heavy but every inch of him does. He’s a large, imposing man and his balls are no exception.

It turns you on to no discernible degree to think about how full and aching his balls must be after you’ve teased him all night. How they’ll tighten and release as he floods you with his cum when he’s through with you.

“Need you, Rensuke, n-now.” you tell him, unable to function without feeling him inside of you for a second longer.

A brief panic shoots through your veins as he pulls you back into the water like a siren. But he stops short of pulling you to your death.

At least, in the literal sense.

You might experience your fourth little death as soon as he sticks his tip in you.

The water sloshes around you as you’re pushed into the pool wall. Your legs sit comfortably on his hips as he guides his still leaking cockhead into your greedy cunt. You moan in tandem as you become accommodated with each other.

“You’re so cute, s’fucking tight, princess.” he tells you, silencing any response you might have had with an ardent kiss. You try to pull away, but he doesn’t let you. And it’s calculated, of course, as he pushes further and further into your sticky walls.

It wasn’t enough.

Three wasn’t enough.

The thickness of his length would have you screaming if he wasn’t keeping a firm grasp on the crown of your head so you couldn’t pull away to voice how the stinging stretch was affecting you.

He doesn’t let go until he’s in. Fully in. You feel him kiss your cheeks and now you can finally moan, pant, screech if you so choose. But as your breathing comes out in hiccupped sobs, you realise he isn’t kissing your cheeks.

He’s kissing away your tears.

“Took me so well, gorgeous.” he mutters against your skin, still continuing to softly peck his lips against your damp skin. “You’re so good… such a good girl, princess. I’m so proud of you, bein’ so good f’me tonight.”

It makes you cry more, though you aren’t sure why. You can barely think about what he was like back then. When he was cruel and callous for no viable reason. But you’d never have heard such sweet sounds from him like you’re hearing now. You’re a good girl, and it’s for him.

Your tongues tangle into a clumsy fervour as he starts to move his hips. The sound water lapping at your bodies is deafening. He lifts you up, slightly, so that he can pound himself into you without restriction.

Both of you find it hard to keep kissing romantically and consistently the harder and faster he batters his cock against your insides. Your lips touch but your mouths hang open. And he’s looking at you. Really fucking looking at you as he drinks in every facial contortion you make from the feeling of his cock bullying itself against your self-destruct button.

He loves the way you bite your lip when you’re close. How your eyes cross and you look so damn wet and pathetic as he brings you to ruin again. It’s a sight he’d have tattooed on the back of his eyelids if he could. He’s been around the world and still couldn’t name a more beautiful sight.

Maybe you could be a porn star, he thinks. If both of your careers fall through, he knows what a good fallback will be if you were so inclined. You’re perfect. Every inch of you, top to bottom, is perfect.

You can barely hold onto consciousness as you feel his heavy breeder balls slap relentlessly against your ass. But you hang on, you have to when he grabs the lower half of your face and pinches your cheeks until your lips pucker.

“Is my good girl about to cum?” he asks, and you nod, dumbly. “That’s it… stay with me. Wanna watch your pretty face while you cum again.” he orders.

You breath faster, fighting against the crushing urge to close your eyes and let go of your body completely. But you’ll do anything he asks, in this moment, so long as he keeps calling you a good girl.

“Can I cum inside?” he asks, thrusts increasing in pace as he jackhammers into you. He’s close, too, but he wants you to cum first. It’ll tip him over the edge if you cream him like this. It’s all he wants. It’s all he needs. “Or should I p-pull out?” he struggles, the thought of spraying your body with his seed appeals to him just as much.

“D-Don’t pull out, Rensuke, don’t you dare…” you command. “Hnf, ah, I’m! Haaah, aah, f-fuck—!” you finish.

“Shit, shit.” he follows you right after. It seems that he would have came inside whether you wanted him to or not. “Ohhhh, fuck, baby. Fuckin’ perfect pussy… take it.” he finishes, too, his pace only slowing by a fraction as his cock spurts rope after rope of pearlescent cum into your cunt.

The sound of water calms after some time. The waves lap around you, carefully, as you breathe and sweat after such a vigorous workout.

It surprises you, a little, as he kisses you after the fact. You thought he’d turn a little colder after he got what he wanted. But you underestimate him again, clearly, as he kisses you sweetly.

“That… amazing.” you tell him, not possessing the energy to fill the rest of the sentence. The start and end are enough for him to figure it out, though. And he cradles your body in his arms as he walks you both to the shallower end of the pool with the staircase. “’m so tired.”

“I know, baby.” he hushes you, you feel like a child in his hold. You’re so little in comparison and you’re still surprised he didn’t break you. He manages to effortlessly pick up his jersey and walk you towards the pool room door. “Gonna get you cleaned up, ‘n we can go straight to sleep.” he promises.

You can’t remember the last time you got such a good nights sleep. Really, you barely remember even falling asleep. You remember Rensuke washing your body and your hair in a warm bubble bath. But you don’t remember him putting you to bed.

Waking up in his arms was a nice feeling, though.

So nice you felt compelled to wake him up with a reward.

He stirred in his sleep as you began to kiss down his bare chest and further down his body. He’s a light sleeper, you came to realise, as he woke up with a cheeky smile on his face and asked what you were doing.

You took his cock between your lips and showed him just how thankful you were for his attentive treatment and aftercare from last night. And you may have wanted to give him a reason to remember you if he wanted to consider going on another date.

He got close.

Really close.

Until he pulled you away to sit on his cock.

“’m not wasting my cum in your mouth when I can cream this cunt again.” he smirks, helping you straddle his hips before lowering yourself down onto that perfect fucking dick again. And he watches you ride him, his jersey riding up slightly with each rise and fall of your hips.

“L-Love your cock, Rensuke, s’fucking big.” you moan like a slut with no remorse. You can’t act coy anymore. Not after last night.

“S’all yours, baby.” he tells you. His attention is stolen from observing your enjoyment when he hears a buzzing on the side table. He reaches for it, and you don’t even notice while your eyes are screwed shut.

And he realises it isn’t his phone.

It’s yours.

He moves slightly, so that he’s sitting upright, covering your mouth as he answers the call. Your blood runs cold as you feel the cold glass of your iPhone screen pressed against your cheek and your ear. Your eyes widened in horror as you look down at Rensuke for help.

“Hello?!” Maisie.

He uncovers your mouth, allowing you to speak. “H-Hey, Maisie.”

“I texted you so many times, where have you been? Did you get home alright? I was so worried!” she yells at you. You can tell she’s in her office pacing back and forth on the tiles as her heels click with each step. She’s pacing. She’s furious.

“S-Sorry! I was just, it was a weird night!” you try and answer simply without lying or giving too much away. But your heart quick starts again as Rensuke holds onto your hips. You're mouthing and no no no! Butit’s ignored as he nods sadistically. He holds tightly onto your hips until your flesh spills between his fingers. And he fucks. You whimper pathetically as you seal your lips in a bid to keep quiet. He really is a sadist, he looks like he’s going to cum to the sight of you desperately trying to maintain your composure.

“I cannot believe I set you up with your old bully, that is so my luck.” she laughs. “Did you just get a taxi home?”

“A-Ah! Uh, yeah I know, c-crazy.” you struggle. “S-Sort of. Eliza was in the area so she picked me up.” so much for not lying.

“Oh, really? That’s good.” she replies, though the click clacking of her heels comes to a stop. “Weird, though, considering I rang all of the girls to see if any of them had talked to you. None of them did.”

“T-That’s… weird.” you reply, eyes rolling back as you try and maintain a level head and think of a way to get off the call. “Um, I uh—”

“I’m at work, just looking through some of my client's details. I’ve got Rensuke’s address up on my screen right now.” she starts. Oh fuck. “You know what else is on my screen?”

“W-What?”

“Find my fucking friend you little slut! Oh my God!” she screams, though you can’t tell if she’s actually screaming or if it’s melded into laughter. “Did you fuck your bully? You whore!”

“I— It’s complicated, nngh!” your free hand flies to your mouth as you spasm through another mind-altering orgasm shatters through you. Rensuke keeps a firm hold of your hips as you tighten around his cock. You hold the phone as far away from your face as you possibly can, though it doesn’t matter. Not when Rensuke cums in you again with no regard to his volume.

“Oh… my God.” Maisie speaks, though you barely hear it. You bring the phone back to your ear and sigh. You already know you’re busted, there’s no point in hiding it now. “I thought I heard a mattress squeaking. Have you just fucked?!”

“Hmph… yeah. Sorry.”

“I’ll pick you up later if you need a lift, I want all the details you absolute slut.” she laughs, sitting down in her office chair as she actually starts to do some work. “How was the date though, was it good?” she asks, knowing she’ll have to go soon.

You look at Rensuke’s pink, sweaty face and wide smile. You melt into the way his thumbs stroke into your sides so tenderly. And you smile back at him, a newfound confidence you’ve never felt before.

“It was… fucking amazing.”

© 2023 rinhaler

[ddejavvu]

can I request a drabble or fic about Curtis sister getting bullied?

sigh. writing curtis!sister stuff is so nostalgic and personal to me. inside of me lives a thirteen year old girl who desperately wanted them to be my brothers. this is for little meimei <33

send me requests for the outsiders!

--

You'd been expecting Steve to pick you up from school, but there must have been a rush at the DX, because it's Two-Bit's creaky old car that chugs along the back street. That's fine too - you could use a laugh after today.

There's a certain level of teasing that you've come to expect because of your social status, but lately some of the older girls around school have made it their personal mission to go above and beyond the standard. Just today they'd begun making fun of the keychain attached to your bookbag- a mickey mouse pendant that had been a gift from Two-Bit himself. Stolen, of course, but not from just any corner store. No, that one had come from a big fancy Disney store, in a big fancy mall hours outside of Tulsa.

He'd been grossly proud of himself when he'd given it to you for your birthday, but according to those older girls, Mickey Mouse was for kids, and that made you one.

You'd tucked it safely into the front pocket of your bag, but Two-Bit notices its absence when you slide into the front seat like there's a neon sign advertising it.

"Hey, kid, where's the keychain?" He nods at your bag, "Did it break off already? Damn Disney, makin' cheap, lousy shit."

"No, it's- it didn't break." You settle into your seat, "I just- took it off."

Two-Bit's hands tighten slightly on the wheel, and he clears his throat, attempting to remain nonchalant.

"Oh. Any reason?"

You think you've hurt his feelings. He's quiet in a way that he usually isn't, and there's no trace of his signature brand of playfulness.

"It's not that I don't like it, Two." You reassure him, reaching over to brace your hand against his leg briefly. He glances at it, throwing you a smile, albeit a wounded one. "I just- I had it on my bag this morning, but then- I dunno, some girls were teasing me about it. I just wanted to avoid trouble."

You'd been attempting to relieve him of any hurt, but now he looks like he wants to hurt the girls you're talking about. He doesn't go to school very often, choosing instead to bum around at your house with a beer and a slice of cake. But you have a sinking feeling that he's going to have perfect attendance from now on, as your personal bodyguard.

"They're pickin' on you?" He asks, glancing over at you from the side of his eye as he tries keeping his focus on the road.

"It's not that bad," You lie, shrugging and reaching into your bag to put your keychain back where it belongs, displayed proudly on your zipper, "They're just high school bullies, Two. Don't worry about it. And don't- don't tell Darry. Please?"

"I don't know, kid." Two-Bit's jaw tightens, shifting as he turns a corner towards the east side of town, "I don't like this. No one should be picking on you. And not to brag, but I know how much you like that keychain. If it's bad enough for you to hide it..."

"It's not that bad, I just- I'm trying to make sure it doesn't get worse. I'm fine," You vow, but there's still a pool of dread in your gut whenever one of the girls' faces flashes in your mind.

"I'm comin' with you tomorrow to school," Two-Bit decides predictably, "And I'm gonna see it for myself, and if they're really layin' into you, I'm rallying the whole gang. Including your brothers. Let us help you, kid."

"No, please-? I don't wanna make it a big deal," You gush, "Two-Bit, everybody's stressed enough. Darry barely has any time to sleep, Soda's worryin' all day about Sandy, Ponyboy's gotta study or Darry'll be on him, just- I don't need to make things worse."

"You aren't makin' anything worse." He frowns, pulling over to the side of the road to turn towards you without the threat of crashing, "Those girls are. Listen, kid. Your brothers care about'cha. We all do. And all of us'd be happy to stick up for you. You know how much fun me 'n Steve would have rippin' into a bunch of mean girls?"

"Don't tell them yet." You insist, but you feel the sincerity of his speech, "Just- wait and see tomorrow. You'll probably scare 'em off anyways."

"I'll wear my best Mickey Mouse shirt," Two promises, his usual shit-eating grin now triumphantly returned to his face as he merges back into the road, "And by that I mean my only one- 'nless you count the old gym shirt my sister drew on."

--

You're nervous about walking back into school with the Mickey Mouse keychain hanging from your bag once more, but you're flanked by an unknowing Ponyboy on your left and a determined Two-Bit on your right, so you know no harm will come to you. Two-Bit is, in fact, wearing his Mickey shirt beneath his leather jacket, practically a dare for anyone to come and say something to him about you.

You think you're in the clear until the three girls you'd been cornered by the day before spot you, and neither Two-Bit nor Ponyboy notice their expressions, but you feel their gaze on the back of your neck. You're sure your keychain is bouncing around in plain sight from the movement of your stride, but with your two bodyguards around none of them dare to say anything.

Two-Bit drops you off at the door to your first class, raising his eyebrows knowingly but subtle enough that it slips past Ponyboy.

"'Kay. I'll meetcha here after class. Wanna sit with us for lunch, kid?"

You nod, thankful that he phrased it as an invitation so that Pony is none the wiser. In reality, you'd been planning on clinging to Two-Bit's leather jacket the entire lunch period. You're glad you have an excuse to do so, now.

You're lucky enough to have B-track classes today, which puts you in different groups than yesterday's A-track. It means that your only possible encounters with the three girls are in the hallways, but Two-Bit makes it impossible for anyone to pick on you by tailing you to each of your classes.

You think you've made it out alive- hopefully forever, by the end of the school day, and the ride home in Two-Bit's creaky little car feels miles better than it had the day before. Ponyboy's silent in the backseat, but that's usual for him, and you think nothing of it as you enjoy the ice cream that Two-Bit buys for the three of you.

It's when you're home that things really go downhill, sitting quietly around the dinner table when Ponyboy speaks for the first time all night.

"Y/N, why didn't'cha tell us you're getting picked on?" He raises the question quietly, but it's just for show- you know he's irritated, and Darry and Soda both straighten in their seats.

"What?" You feign innocence, digging your fork through the spaghetti on your plate, "What are you talkin' about, Pony?"

"These girls were talkin' about you in my history class." Ponyboy grumbles, and shit, you hadn't even considered the possibility of them sharing a class with your brother. You know he's smart for his age, that he was placed a year ahead of his grade level, but you hadn't connected the dots that they'd be in the same classes.

Darry's focus is on you now, but you know him and Soda are both still waiting for Ponyboy to continue. You avoid all three of their gazes, scrutinizing your spaghetti instead.

"They said they were planning on cornering you today. But they said since Two and I were with 'ya, they couldn't. Why didn't'cha tell us they were bothering you?"

Darry shifts forwards in his seat, more intimidating than he means to be. He's worried, you know that, but that's what you'd been trying to avoid.

"It's nothing serious, Pony." You try placating him, the whole table for that matter, "They're just mean girls. I'm handling it fine, really."

"They were talkin' about cornering you?" Darry finally speaks up, his voice unconsciously booming, "Y/N, I don't think you could've handled yourself then. Now I know you don't like makin' a scene but they could've hurt you. How many of 'em are there?"

"Three." You mumble, "Darry, I- I would've got out of it okay, really! They're real preppy, put-together girls, they probably wouldn't fight. Pro'lly just wanted to call me names or something."

"I don't want someone callin' you names, either." Soda frowns, his own plate forgotten as he focuses on you, "Did you tell a teacher about it?"

"No, it's- it's not that bad! Really, guys, you're overreacting. It's just high school drama. It sounds worse than it is."

"I don't like it." Darry decides, a note of finality in his voice that you're not happy about, "That ain't okay. And you know we'd back you up, kiddo. Pony, Johnny and Steve are there every day, and if you told Two-Bit, I'm sure he'd show up too."

"I did tell Two-Bit," You admit reluctantly, and rush to finish before your brothers get offended, "He got it out of me on the way home yesterday. That's why he came today, to make sure none of 'em got a hold of me."

"See, you do need a bodyguard," Soda reasons, leaning back in his chair, "Maybe I oughta take a day off from work. Drop you off tomorrow, give 'em the death stare or somethin'. If you want, I can have Dally tag along, that'll really scare 'em."

"No! No, don't take the day off, and- and don't show up! Especially not with Dallas," You groan, "This is why I didn't tell any of you guys. You have enough to worry about, you don't need to get involved in girl stuff."

Darry kicks your foot under the table, not hard, but reassuring, "Don't say that, kiddo. It ain't just 'girl stuff' if you're gettin' cornered at school. And we'd be more worried if you came home with a black eye. Now you let us all pick you up from school tomorrow, m'kay? Keep the boys with you, and Pony, keep an eye on those girls in class to see if they talk any more about Y/N."

"I will." Pony vows, and Soda finally relaxes, going for another bite of spaghetti at the same time that he tries speaking.

"Steve and I'll whip 'em if they act out," He promises through a mouthful of food, eliciting a sickened laugh from you, and two groans from your other brothers.

"Chew your food, Soda," Pony grimaces, and Darry elbows Soda unimpressed.

"Thanks, guys." You mumble, bashful for needing help but grateful your brothers are so willing to step into the ring for you, "It's- it's really not that bad but thank you for helping me anyways."

"Anytime, kiddo," Darry promises, a rare smile crossing his face, "Can't have the best of us gettin' beat up at school."

"Hey! The best of us?" Ponyboy glares at Darry, stabbing his spaghetti, "What happened to my big brains?"

"I dunno, I think you lost 'em when you fell from the top of the drive-in fence," You smirk at your youngest brother, still older but easiest to tease, "You hit the ground pretty hard."

Soda erupts into laughter at the memory, and Ponyboy continues his vicious assault on his dinner while Darry smothers a laugh, trying to keep the peace.

"But we mean it." Darry looks at you again, a hint of that former sternness crossing his face again, "If you need muscle, you got it. Ain't nobody gonna mess with my kid sister."

"'Specially not if Dallas shows up," Soda snickers, "Them girls'll go runnin' for the hills when they see him helpin' you in the car."

"Tell him to behave himself," You groan, "I don't need to be called into the office 'cause my brother's friend flashed a heater 'round the parking lot."

"He never behaves himself," Pony scoffs, "But if them girls are smart enough, they'll stay away from you before he has to get crazy on 'em."

"They'll stay away from you," Darry vows, and you believe him with the way the muscles in his strong arms flex as he leans forwards on the table, "Or they're gonna have to worry about somethin' worse than Dally."

[jaeyunluvbot]

goodnight n go

genre/tags 𝟅𝟈 vernon x fem!reader, kind of secret romance, college au

word count 𝟅𝟈 7.1k

NOT PROOFREAD

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The campus library hums with quiet activity: the scratch of pens, the faint tapping of keyboards, and whispers barely above a murmur. You’re in your usual corner, earbuds in and pretending you’re too absorbed in your screen to notice the commotion around you.

But you do notice. How could you not?

A burst of laughter draws your attention to the table just a few feet away. Of course, he’s there. Vernon Chwe.

He leans back in his chair, all lazy confidence, a backwards cap perched on his head like it’s an extension of his body. His hoodie looks soft, worn, perfectly slouchy, and it’s infuriating how good he looks without even trying. You force yourself to stare at your screen, typing nonsense just to look busy. He’s not even your enemy—not directly. But Vernon is part of Mingyu’s crowd, and that’s enough to keep him firmly on your ignore at all costs list.

You still remember how Jennie looked after her breakup with Mingyu—eyes puffy, voice breaking on every other word. She hasn’t explicitly told you to steer clear of Vernon, but loyalty doesn’t need to be spoken. Besides, you have no interest in frat boys who probably spend more time planning parties than studying.

“Hey, Y/N!”

You freeze. His voice cuts through the library like it has no regard for social norms—or the very clear quiet zone sign on the wall.

You don’t look up. Maybe if you pretend you didn’t hear him—

“Y/N,” he says again, louder this time. A few heads turn in mild irritation. You want to sink into the floor.

Reluctantly, you pull out an earbud and glare at him. “What?” you hiss.

He holds up a battered blue binder. Your binder. Your name is scrawled across the front in black Sharpie, unmistakable.

“I think you forgot this after class,” he says, his tone casual, almost playful.

You stomp over and snatch it from his hands. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” he replies, grinning like you just made his day. “Oh, and nice presentation today in Dr. Kim’s class. You really knew your stuff.”

Your chest tightens, and not in the way you’d like to admit. Compliments shouldn’t feel like this—not from him, anyway. You shrug, keeping your voice neutral. “Thanks.”

You turn to leave, eager to put as much distance between yourself and his stupidly charming face as possible.

“You know,” he calls after you, his voice light, teasing, “I’m not as bad as you think I am.”

You stop mid-step. Slowly, you glance back at him. “What are you talking about?”

He leans back in his chair, his grin widening. “I mean, you don’t have to avoid me so much. I’m not the one who broke Jennie’s heart.”

Heat floods your cheeks—half embarrassment, half fury. “I’m not avoiding you,” you snap, even though the words feel like a lie.

“Sure you’re not,” he says, his tone maddeningly smug. “See you around, Y/N.”

You hate the way his voice lingers in your head long after you’ve stomped back to your seat.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The house is packed, music thumping so loud you can feel it in your chest. You’re clutching a red solo cup—not because you’re particularly in the mood to drink, but because it gives you something to do with your hands. Jennie’s off somewhere, probably gossiping with Irene and Seulgi, leaving you to hover near the snacks, pretending you’re not awkwardly alone in the middle of a frat house.

You don’t even know why you came.

Actually, that’s a lie—you know exactly why. Jennie had heard NCT was throwing the party, and you didn’t want to spend another Friday night alone in your dorm. But now, as you watch the endless crowd of people, you’re questioning your life choices.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

You don’t have to look up to know who it is.

Vernon Chwe.

His voice is casual, but when you glance at him, he’s smiling, almost like he’s been waiting for this moment. He’s ditched the usual hoodie for a plain black t-shirt and jeans, his hair falling messily over his forehead. It’s ridiculous how effortlessly good he looks.

“Didn’t think I’d see you either,” you reply, your tone sharper than intended.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Why’s that?”

“I didn’t think frat parties were your thing.”

“Really? I live here.”

Your face heats up at your own stupidity. He just laughs, shaking his head. “Relax, I’m kidding. I don’t live here, but I might as well with how often I’m around. The brothers in NCT are friends of my frat”

You roll your eyes. “Of course they are.”

There’s a beat of silence, just long enough to feel awkward. You glance at the door, contemplating an escape, but before you can bolt, Vernon leans a little closer.

“You look like you’re having a terrible time,” he says, his voice low enough that it feels like a secret between the two of you.

“I’m fine,” you lie.

“Come on,” he insists. “I saw you glaring at the chips like they personally offended you.”

You almost laugh despite yourself. “Maybe they did.”

He grins, taking a sip from his own cup. “Tell you what—let’s make it less terrible. There’s a quieter spot upstairs. Wanna come?”

Every sensible part of you screams no. This is exactly what you’ve been trying to avoid. But something about the way he’s looking at you, his smile soft and unassuming, makes you hesitate. Against your better judgment, you nod.

Vernon leads you to a room at the end of the hall, far enough from the party that the music feels like background noise. There’s an old couch in the corner, and he flops down, patting the seat next to him.

You hesitate, but sit down anyway, keeping a safe distance.

“See? Much better,” he says, leaning back and stretching his arms across the top of the couch.

“You didn’t bring me here to murder me, did you?” you joke, crossing your arms.

He snorts. “If I wanted to murder you, I wouldn’t have picked a frat party. Too many witnesses.”

“Good point.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks. It’s not the awkward silence you expected. It’s…comfortable.

“So,” he says, breaking the quiet, “why do you hate me?”

Your head snaps toward him. “I don’t hate you.”

“Really? Could’ve fooled me.”

You open your mouth to argue, but he cuts you off.

“It’s fine,” he says, shrugging. “I get it. Jennie’s your friend, and Mingyu’s my friend. Guilty by association.”

You don’t know how to respond to that.

“I just think it’s kind of unfair,” he adds, his voice quieter now. “You don’t even know me.”

Something in his tone catches you off guard—he sounds almost…vulnerable.

You glance at him, and for the first time, you let yourself really look. He’s not grinning or teasing. He’s just sitting there, waiting for you to say something.

You glance at him, and for the first time, you let yourself really look. He’s not grinning or teasing. He’s just sitting there, waiting for you to say something.

“I guess…I never gave you a chance,” you admit, the words feeling heavier than they should.

He smiles, but it’s small and almost shy. “Well, I’m glad we’re fixing that now.”

You’re not sure why your chest feels so tight, or why your heart is beating so fast. All you know is that Vernon Chwe might be a problem—a very, very big problem.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

You’ve never been one to lose track of time, especially not at a party. But as you sit on the worn couch in that quiet upstairs room, hours pass like minutes.

Vernon has a way of talking that catches you off guard. He’s not loud or overbearing like you imagined a frat boy would be. Instead, his words are thoughtful, his voice calm, like he’s actually listening and not just waiting for his turn to speak.

Somehow, the conversation flows from harmless small talk—classes, shared professors, and how the campus coffee shop is ridiculously overpriced—to deeper things.

“You know, when I found out you were friends with Jennie I was surprised,” he says, leaning forward, elbows on his knees.

“Oh, really?” You arch a brow, leaning back into the couch.

“Yeah. You don’t have that… sorority vibe, you know?”

“And what vibe do I have, exactly?”

He grins, his eyes flickering to yours for a moment before he looks away. “You seem like you’ve got it all together, but there’s a lot more going on under the surface. Like, you’re the type of person who stays up all night overthinking things.”

Your stomach flips at how accurate that is. You cover it with a laugh. “What, did you take a psychology class or something?”

“Nah,” he says, still smiling. “I’m just good at reading people.”

“Then why didn’t you read that I don’t like you?”

It’s meant to be a jab, but it comes out softer than you intended.

He shrugs. “Because I don’t think that’s true.”

You scoff, but he doesn’t back down. His gaze lingers on you, not in an intimidating way, but like he’s trying to figure out how you work.

“Okay, fine,” you say, breaking the tension. “Maybe I didn’t like you before.”

“But now?” he asks, his tone teasing but his eyes serious.

You roll your eyes. “You’re…less annoying than I thought you’d be.”

“Wow, high praise,” he says, grinning.

You can’t help but smile back.

At some point, the conversation shifts to childhood memories. You tell him about the time you broke your mom’s favorite vase and tried to blame it on your cousin, only for your little brother to rat you out. He laughs, and it’s this deep, genuine sound that makes your chest feel warm.

In return, he tells you about the time he got his head stuck between the bars of a park fence and how Mingyu had to call their RA to get him out.

“I don’t know what’s worse,” you say, laughing, “the fact that you got stuck or the fact that you had to call for help.”

“Hey, I was, like, eight,” he says, pretending to be offended. “Cut me some slack.”

“Sure, sure,” you say, wiping a tear from your eye.

Before you realize it, the music from downstairs starts to fade, the party winding down. You check your phone—it’s past midnight.

“I should probably get going,” you say, though you don’t really want to.

“Yeah,” he says, standing up and stretching. “Me too.”

As you head downstairs together, the air between you feels different. Lighter. For the first time, you don’t feel the need to keep your guard up around him.

When you reach the bottom of the stairs, he turns to you, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “This was…nice.”

You nod. “Yeah, it was.”

For a moment, you think he’s going to say something else, but instead, he just smiles. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Vernon.”

As you walk home, your thoughts race. You still don’t know what to make of him, but one thing’s for sure—he’s not at all what you expected.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The next morning, you stumble out of bed and drag yourself downstairs to the kitchen, still in your pajamas. Your mind is hazy, last night’s events with Vernon replaying on a constant loop. You’re still trying to piece together how you ended up talking to him for hours, completely forgetting you were supposed to dislike him.

As you enter the kitchen, the lively chatter of your sorority sisters fills the air. Jennie, Irene, Seulgi, and Chaeyoung are crowded around the table, coffee mugs and half-eaten bagels scattered in front of them.

“Finally! Sleeping Beauty decided to join us,” Jennie teases, raising her mug in your direction.

“Morning,” you mumble, grabbing a mug for yourself and pouring some coffee.

“So, where did you disappear to last night?” Chaeyoung asks, looking at you curiously.

You nearly drop the coffee pot. “Uh, what do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Irene says, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “One minute you were with us, the next you vanished into thin air.”

“Yeah,” Jennie chimes in, narrowing her eyes at you. “You didn’t even say goodbye.”

Your brain scrambles for an excuse. “I, uh… I left early. I had a headache.” You force a casual shrug, praying they won’t press further.

“Really?” Jennie asks, her voice skeptical.

“Yup. Didn’t want to ruin the vibe for anyone, so I just went home,” you say quickly, pouring yourself some coffee and taking a long sip to avoid their gazes.

Thankfully, Seulgi changes the subject. “Honestly, I don’t blame you. Those frat boys were so obnoxious.”

“Right?” Irene says, rolling her eyes. “Especially Mingyu’s friends. They’re the worst.”

You freeze, your stomach twisting.

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Jennie groans. “Mingyu’s bad enough on his own, but all of them together? They’re insufferable.”

You stare down at your mug of coffee.

“Who even invited them anyway?” Chaeyoung adds.

“Probably Jaehyun,” Jennie mutters. “I think he’s like, friends with Mingyu or something.”

You sit in silence, staring into your mug as their voices swirl around you. They have no idea what you were doing last night—who you were talking to—and guilt settles heavily in your chest.

But why should you feel guilty? It’s not like you did anything wrong.

Still, you can’t help but think about Vernon’s laugh, his surprisingly thoughtful responses, and the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his favorite movies. He didn’t seem like the person they’re describing.

“Y/N?” Jennie’s voice pulls you back to reality.

“What?”

“Are you coming with us to brunch later?”

“Oh. Uh, maybe. I’ll see how I’m feeling,” you say, your voice distant.

Jennie nods, not entirely convinced, but doesn’t push. As the conversation shifts, you force yourself to focus on anything other than Vernon.

But no matter how hard you try, you can’t stop thinking about him, a fact that has guilt eating you alive from the inside.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

A few days pass, and despite your best efforts to keep Vernon out of your head, he somehow keeps finding ways to slip back in. It doesn’t help that he texts you memes or random thoughts like, "Do you think penguins get cold?" throughout the day, making you smile when you shouldn’t.

You try to bury the guilt. You really do. But when Vernon suggests sneaking into your sorority house for a movie night—because his frat is too loud, and “your room probably smells better than mine”—you can’t seem to say no.

“Fine,” you whisper-yell into the phone. “But if we get caught, I’m blaming you.”

“I can live with that,” he replies with a laugh.

A couple of hours later, Vernon is sprawled on the rug in your room, munching on chips he insisted on bringing while you sit cross-legged on your bed, watching Shrek 2. You hate how easy it is to be around him, how natural it feels to laugh with him like this.

“You know,” he says, turning to look at you, “for someone who supposedly hates me, you’re pretty bad at showing it.”

You roll your eyes, throwing a pillow at him. “Shut up and watch the movie.”

But just as he’s about to throw a chip back at you, there’s a knock at the door.

“Y/N?” Jennie’s voice cuts through the playful atmosphere like a knife.

Your heart leaps into your throat. You practically leap off the bed, gesturing frantically for Vernon to hide. He scrambles behind your bed just as you crack the door open, trying to look as casual as possible.

“Hey, Jen,” you say, forcing a smile.

“Are you coming to dinner with us?” she asks, peering into your room suspiciously.

“Oh, uh… maybe later,” you stammer. “I’m just… talking to my mom.”

Jennie raises an eyebrow. “Your mom?”

“Yeah, she called, and we’ve just been catching up,” you say quickly, holding up your phone for emphasis.

“Okay,” Jennie says slowly, clearly unconvinced. She glances behind you, as if she can sense something is off. “You sure everything’s okay?”

“Yep, totally fine!” you say, practically shoving the door closed. “Have fun at dinner!”

You shut the door and lean against it, your heart pounding.

From behind the desk, Vernon’s muffled laughter bubbles up. “Your mom, seriously?”

“Shut up!” you hiss, glaring at him.

He emerges from his hiding spot, grinning like an idiot. “That was smooth. Really convincing.”

“Ugh, I can’t believe this,” you mutter, flopping onto your bed. “This is all your fault.”

“My fault?” he says, sitting cross-legged on the rug again. “You’re the one who let me in.”

You throw another pillow at him, which he easily catches.

“Just admit you like me,” he teases, leaning back on his hands with that stupid, cocky grin.

You grab another pillow, ready to hurl it, but his words hit a little too close to home. Your grip loosens, and the pillow falls to your lap as your cheeks flush.

“See? You can’t even deny it,” he says, his voice softer now, his teasing tone giving way to something more genuine.

You hate that he’s right. But admitting it? That’s a whole other thing.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

It’s been a whirlwind of late-night sneaking, secret hangouts, and way too much Vernon. Not that you’d admit you enjoy it.

Vernon has gotten way too comfortable invading your life. He texts you constantly, calls when you’re least expecting it, and—when he’s feeling particularly bold—throws in a casual, “Miss me yet?” with a winky face. You hate that the answer is always yes.

To make matters worse, Jennie has been clinging to you like never before. She’s always suggesting lunch dates or study sessions, and you can’t say no without feeling like the worst friend in the world.

Balancing both is exhausting. It feels like you’re living two lives: one where you’re Jennie’s loyal best friend, and one where you’re Vernon’s… whatever you are.

One afternoon, when the stress feels like it’s going to eat you alive, you knock on Chaeyoung’s door, desperate for advice. She’s lounging on her bed with a sketchpad when you walk in, looking up with a raised eyebrow.

“What’s with the dramatic entrance?” she asks.

“I need help,” you say, collapsing into her beanbag chair.

“Uh-oh. Is this about Jennie or Vernon?”

Your head snaps up. “How did you—?”

Chaeyoung shrugs. “It’s obvious. You’ve been weirdly busy lately, but you look way too happy for it to just be school. Plus, Vernon keeps staring at you in class.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “I’m doomed.”

“Okay, spill,” Chaeyoung says, setting her sketchpad aside.

You tell her everything—how Vernon wormed his way into your life, how he’s not the annoying frat boy you thought he’d be, how you actually like spending time with him.

“But Jennie,” you say, throwing your hands up. “She’d kill me if she found out. And I don’t even know what this is with Vernon. It’s not like we’re dating, but…”

“But you want to,” Chaeyoung finishes for you.

You hesitate, then nod. “Yeah. I think I do.”

Chaeyoung leans back, thoughtful. “Well, Vernon didn’t do anything to Jennie. That was all Mingyu.”

“I know,” you say quickly. “But it’s not that simple. She hates Vernon by association. If she knew I was hanging out with him…”

“She’d be pissed,” Chaeyoung finishes with a sigh.

“Exactly,” you mutter, slumping further into the beanbag.

Chaeyoung looks at you sympathetically. “Okay, but hear me out. Do you really think this is sustainable? Sneaking around, lying to Jennie, sneaking Vernon into the house… You’re gonna crack eventually.”

You don’t want to admit she’s right, but you know she is. The thought of coming clean terrifies you, though. What if Jennie takes it the wrong way? What if she gets mad and it ruins your friendship?

“I just… I don’t know how to tell her,” you admit quietly.

“Well,” Chaeyoung says, smirking a little, “if Vernon is as crazy about you as he seems, maybe it’s worth taking the risk.”

Her words stick with you longer than you’d like. But are you brave enough to actually act on them?

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

This time, your sorority is the one hosting a party, the kind of event where you can already feel your exhaustion just from the noise and the amount of people packed into your sorority house. It’s loud and flashy, with your sisters dancing and laughing, and—against all expectations—Jennie has begrudgingly invited the Seventeen frat. You know why she did it. Drinks, snacks, and the usual frat chaos that she’s come to rely on for a good time.

But you? You’re stuck. You’ve spent most of the night glued to Jennie’s side, unable to sneak away, unable to make any excuse to disappear into the crowd where you could catch a glimpse of Vernon. The tension in the air is thick, and you can’t avoid the prickle of guilt as you glance across the room and catch sight of him. His eyes meet yours for a second, and you can almost feel the way his smile falters. He tries to move closer, but Jennie’s hand tugs you away, her chatter drowning out everything else.

“Come on, let’s dance,” Jennie says, pulling you into the middle of the room, and you can’t help but notice how she deliberately blocks Vernon from your line of sight.

You nod and force a smile. You hate this. You hate the way you’re pretending, the way you’re avoiding him, as though everything that’s been between you suddenly doesn’t matter. But Jennie doesn’t know, and you can’t risk it. Not when she’s this protective of you. You’d never hear the end of it.

Vernon, on the other hand, doesn’t let it slide. As the night stretches on, you can see him trying to talk to you. A quick chat, maybe a dance, a little smile. Each time, you have to turn away, pretending you don’t feel the pull in your chest. He’s not buying it.

Finally, he steps back, his lips curling into a sharp smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Okay, cool,” he mutters, the hurt clear in his tone. “I see how it is.” He turns away, disappearing into the crowd.

Jennie notices. “Haha, that’s weird. Why is he only talking to you?” she asks, a tinge of knowing in her voice.

You force a laugh, hoping it doesn’t sound as fake as it feels. “Yeah, definitely. I don’t know why he was talking to me either.”

The words burn in your mouth, and you want to kick yourself. It’s all a lie. A lie you’ve been feeding to Jennie, to yourself, to everyone. But the guilt is too much, and you just need to get through tonight.

When the party dies down, and you finally find an excuse to leave, you head upstairs, your heart heavy with a mix of guilt and regret. You barely get your door closed before you pull out your phone and start typing to Vernon.

Hey… I’m sorry for earlier. I didn’t mean to be weird. I just didn’t know what to do.

You wait, staring at the screen, hoping for the buzz of a reply. But it never comes. A few minutes pass, then thirty, then an hour. Your thumb hovers over the screen, ready to type again, but no new message comes in.

Finally, you give up, tossing your phone aside and heading into the bathroom. You turn the shower on, trying to wash away the anxiety that’s coiling in your stomach. It doesn’t work.

You curl into bed, the sheets cold against your skin, but nothing can stop your thoughts from swirling. You feel horrible for betraying Jennie, for lying to her. But then there’s Vernon, and you can’t help but feel like you’ve betrayed him too. What’s worse is you can’t even tell Jennie the truth because it would hurt her, and you can’t risk that. You feel like you’re suffocating under the weight of it all.

The knock on your door comes hours later, and when you open it, Jennie is standing there, still in her outfit from the party, her expression soft.

“Hey,” she says, her voice quiet. “Can I come in?”

You nod silently, stepping aside to let her in.

“I know something’s up,” she says, sitting on your bed. “You’ve been acting weird all night. You can tell me, you know. I’m your friend.”

You stand there for a moment, fighting back the tears that are threatening to spill. You want to tell her. You want to be honest. But the truth feels impossible to say.

“I can’t,” you say, shaking your head. “I just… I feel awful. I don’t know what to do.”

Jennie sighs, looking at you with a mixture of sympathy and understanding. “Whatever it is, you don’t have to go through it alone. But it sounds like you need some time to figure things out. Just know I’m here if you need me, okay?”

You give a shaky nod.

Jennie stands and pats your shoulder gently. “If you need to talk, I’m here. But take your time. Just don’t keep it all in too long, okay?”

You whisper, “I just don’t know what to do.”

“I know,” she says softly, offering you a small, knowing smile. “But you’ll figure it out.”

As she walks out, you close the door behind her, burying your face in your hands. The guilt is suffocating, but you also know that Jennie is right. You have a lot to figure out—and soon.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Everyone is packing up, signaling the end of another lecture. You grab your things quickly, your thoughts racing. This is it. You can’t keep avoiding him, and you can’t let things stay awkward between you and Vernon any longer. You know he’s been hurt, and you can’t just let it fester.

As you walk out of class, you spot him talking to a few of his friends, his back turned to you. You hesitate for a second, wondering if you should just leave it for another day, but then you square your shoulders and head toward him.

“Vernon,” you call, and his shoulders stiffen before he turns around to face you. The moment his eyes meet yours, you see the flicker of wariness in them, the same hesitation that you’ve been feeling.

“Hey,” he greets you, his voice neutral but with a hint of something else. He’s not mad, but it’s clear he’s still hurt.

You bite your lip, knowing this is going to be a bit of a confrontation. “Can we talk?”

His gaze flickers to his friends, who are still hanging around, laughing and joking. He looks back at you, eyes narrowed slightly. “What about?”

You take a deep breath. “I just… I want to apologize for what happened at the party. I shouldn’t have ignored you like that.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “You’re serious?” He laughs dryly, a little incredulity in his tone. “After everything, now you want to apologize?”

You can tell he’s holding back, trying not to sound too hurt or too bitter, but you know him well enough by now to catch it. You step closer, lowering your voice so only he can hear. “Yeah, I’m serious. I messed up, okay? But can we talk about it, like, without everyone else around?”

Vernon hesitates, glancing at his friends again, who are still chatting, not paying much attention to either of you. He seems reluctant to leave them, but then he sighs and looks back at you. “I’m not sure what we’re gonna talk about that’s so urgent, but fine. Let’s go.”

You lead the way to the small café off-campus, the one where you both have shared stolen moments before. It’s always been a place for you to get away from everything and everyone. Just the two of you. You can’t help but hope this conversation will get you back to where you were before everything got so messy.

When you get there, Vernon still seems distant. He orders a coffee and takes a seat at one of the far booths, clearly not thrilled about being there, but you don’t let it stop you. You sit across from him, feeling the weight of the silence pressing down between you.

“So?” Vernon asks after a beat, his voice softer, more vulnerable than before.

You swallow hard, the guilt rushing back in full force. “I didn’t know how to handle it. I thought if I just ignored everything, it would be easier. I didn’t want to hurt Jennie, and I didn’t want you to think I was picking sides or something.”

Vernon leans back in the booth, clearly not convinced, but willing to listen. “And now? Now you’re ready to make it right?”

You nod, your eyes meeting his. “I don’t want to keep avoiding you. I never should have ignored you, Vernon. I care about you. I’m just… trying to figure things out.”

He stares at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to gauge whether or not you mean it. Finally, he lets out a breath and looks away, taking a sip of his coffee. “You know, I didn’t expect it to be like this. I didn’t expect you to pretend I didn’t exist, Y/N.”

The words sting, but you know he’s right. You were too afraid of what it could mean to let yourself be real with him. You glance down at your hands, suddenly feeling the weight of everything you’ve been holding back. “I know. And I’m sorry for that. But I’m here now. I’m not running away anymore.”

Vernon doesn’t answer right away. He just stares at you, as if weighing your words. Then, slowly, he gives you a small nod. “Okay. I’ll take that.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Thank you.”

He looks at you, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “But you still owe me something.”

You raise an eyebrow, confused. “What do you mean?”

His grin widens, the playfulness in his tone returning. “A little honesty. You can’t just tell me that you’re not running away and expect me to believe that everything’s all good now. I want to know why you were so damn scared of me.”

Your cheeks heat up, and you look away, embarrassed. “Vernon, stop.”

He chuckles, clearly enjoying teasing you. “Come on. Just admit it. You like me.”

You groan and shake your head, trying to hold back a smile. “Oh my God, you’re impossible.”

He leans forward, eyes glinting with mischief. “Just admit it, Y/N. I know you like me, at least a little.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no denying the flutter in your stomach. “Fine, I like you a tiny bit. Happy now?”

Vernon’s grin softens, and he sits back in his seat, clearly satisfied. “Much better.”

There’s a shift in the air between you two, something lighter, more comfortable. You both know things aren’t perfect yet, but you’ve crossed a bridge, and it feels like a good step forward.

For the first time in a while, you’re not dreading what’s to come. You’re just here with him. And, for now, that’s enough.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The cold of winter had been relentless lately, and you’ve been spending most of your time bundled up in layers of blankets, trying to stay warm while surviving the stress of exam season. Between your studies, your sorority obligations, and the pressure of keeping everything balanced, you’ve barely had time for anything else.

But tonight, when you were in the middle of reviewing your notes, your phone buzzed with a message from Vernon.

Vernon: Yo, I’m locked out of the frat house. Can I crash at yours?

You bite your lip, glancing over your shoulder to make sure no one is around. Technically, you’re not allowed to have overnight guests, but you can’t help but feel for him. The cold night air must be unbearable, and you know Vernon well enough to know he won’t ask for help unless he really needs it.

You: I’m not supposed to have anyone here, but I’ll make an exception for you this time.

Vernon: Thanks. I swear I’ll be out of your hair by morning. Promise.

A few minutes later, Vernon’s at your door, his face a little red from the cold, looking as casual as ever in his hoodie and jeans. You step aside to let him in.

“You’re lucky I’m a softie for you,” you tease, but the warmth you’re offering him is genuine as he steps inside.

“I know. I owe you one,” Vernon replies, smiling that crooked smile of his that always manages to make your heart skip.

You show him to your room, where you pull out the air mattress you keep tucked away in the corner for emergencies like this. “I’ve got this, but it’s not the most comfortable thing in the world. You’re welcome to it.” You hand him a pillow and a blanket.

He frowns slightly, eyeing the air mattress. “It’ll do.” He flops down on it with a huff, and you return to your side of the room, trying to focus on your notes again.

But the chill in the room isn’t just from the weather. The heating’s been out in the house for the past few days, and no amount of blankets seems to be helping. After a few minutes of shivering under your own covers, you turn to Vernon on the floor.

“You’re probably freezing down there,” you say, already feeling guilty.

He shrugs, but you can tell from his expression that he’s cold.

“I don’t want you getting sick,” you continue. “You can join me in the bed, if you want. It’ll be warmer with both of us.”

Vernon looks at you for a beat, hesitating, but ultimately nods. “Ok. But no funny business.”

“Of course,” you say, trying to hide your grin, but your heart is already racing a little.

He slides into the bed next to you, and you both lie there, staring up at the ceiling, neither of you speaking for a long while. The silence is oddly comfortable, but it’s also loaded—with so many unsaid things.

The two of you just lay there, listening to the sounds of the night, the quiet of your room feeling oddly intimate with him so close.

Finally, Vernon breaks the silence with a sigh, his voice just above a whisper. “You know… we’d be great together.”

You snap your head toward him, caught completely off guard. “What?”

His eyes are already on you, his expression serious. “I’m tired of always having to say goodnight and go. I like you, and I want to be with you.”

Your heart does a flip in your chest. You stare at him, your mind scrambling to make sense of his words, unsure of how to respond.

“What?” you repeat, because you can’t think of anything else to say. Your voice is shaky, a mixture of disbelief and something else you can’t quite name.

Vernon sighs, his eyes softening as he looks at you. “You heard me.”

He shifts closer, his hand brushing against yours under the covers. There’s a vulnerability in his gaze that makes you feel like your heart might just fall out of your chest.

“I’m tired of pretending,” he adds quietly. “I can’t keep doing this—acting like I don’t want more than just late-night talks and goodbyes.”

You feel your chest tighten, a swirl of emotions crashing into you all at once. You want to say something, but words feel inadequate, too small for the way you’re feeling right now.

Instead, you just stare at him, your breath catching in your throat. He’s close now, so close that you can feel the heat from his body, and his eyes are filled with an intensity that you didn’t know he could have.

You open your mouth, but the words get stuck. What is there to say when everything between you feels so... complicated? So dangerous? You can’t let this happen. Not now.

But before you can respond, Vernon speaks again. “You don’t have to say anything. I just—” He pauses, shaking his head slightly, like he’s unsure of how to finish his thought. “I just needed you to know.”

Your heart is racing. You want to pull away, but something about the way he’s looking at you keeps you rooted to the spot. There’s no denying it anymore—there’s something between you and Vernon. Something real.

But the reality of your situation sinks in like a stone in your stomach. You can’t let it happen. Not now, not like this.

“I—Vernon…” You trail off, unable to finish. It’s like your brain is in a fog, fighting against your heart’s instincts.

Vernon’s hand brushes against yours again, his fingers almost touching yours. “I’m not asking for anything right now. I just want to be close to you. And I want you to know how I feel.”

For a moment, all you can do is lie there, lost in the weight of his words. You don’t know what to say, but you know that the longer you stay in this moment, the harder it’s going to be to walk away from whatever this is between you.

All you can do is look at him, and in the silence of the room, let his confession hang in the air.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The weight of the secret has been hanging over you for so long, and you've finally had enough of pretending. You’ve been running from this, trying to keep your two lives separate, but the pressure is starting to get unbearable. You know you can’t hide it anymore, not from Jennie—especially not now.

You find her in the living room of your sorority house, sitting on the couch scrolling through her phone. The warmth of the fire crackling in the background is a sharp contrast to the cold you’ve been carrying in your chest for weeks. You take a deep breath and sit next to her, your heart racing with anticipation.

“Hey, Jen?”

She looks up, a soft smile forming on her lips. “What’s up?”

“I—I need to tell you something,” you start, your words tripping over each other. “About... Vernon. And me.”

Jennie quirks an eyebrow, her smile widening. “Finally,” she says with a knowing look.

You blink, completely caught off guard. “Wait, what?”

Jennie laughs softly, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “I was wondering when you’d come clean.”

You stare at her, dumbfounded. “You knew?”

Her laugh grows louder as she shakes her head. “You’re really not the best liar, you know. I could tell something was up, and you weren’t exactly subtle about it.”

“I—" You cut yourself off, unable to form a coherent thought as the realization hits you. “So, that whole time you—?”

Jennie shrugs nonchalantly. “Yeah, I kept bringing up how much I hated his friend group because I wanted to see how long it would take you to crack. Honestly, I’m surprised it took this long.”

Your mouth drops open in shock, but then, something inside you relaxes. You laugh, feeling the tension inside of you dissolve for the first time in ages. “I can’t believe you knew this whole time and didn’t say anything!”

Jennie smirks, her eyes softening. “You needed to figure it out on your own. And hey, you did. So I’m happy for you.”

You feel lighter, like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. All the guilt, the secrets, the tension—all gone in an instant. Jennie is happy for you, and you didn’t have to hide anymore.

With a deep breath, you pull out your phone and send Vernon a quick text:

You: Come over. We need to talk.

The moment your finger leaves the send button, you can’t help but feel a rush of excitement mixed with nerves. Jennie notices your expression and gives you a soft, knowing smile.

“You’re doing the right thing,” she says, her voice gentle but firm. “Go after what you want.”

The doorbell rings a short while later, and you almost jump out of your skin. Jennie watches you go with a teasing smile, and you roll your eyes before heading to the door.

When you open it, Vernon’s standing there, a little unsure, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. His eyes search yours, as if he’s waiting for you to say something.

You pull him up the stairs once again, except this time, you don’t have to hide or worry about someone finding out. It’s strangely freeing.

“Hey,” you say softly, stepping aside so he can come in. “I, uh… I’ve been thinking a lot about us, and about everything.”

He steps inside your room, looking at you with a mixture of curiosity and hope in his eyes. And for a moment, you just stand there, the space between you two thick with unspoken words.

You take a deep breath, your nerves getting the best of you for just a second. “Vernon, I—I didn’t want to keep lying to myself anymore. Or to you. I told Jennie about us.”

Vernon’s eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“I’ve been hiding how I feel for so long,” you continue, stepping closer to him, “and it’s stupid. I don’t want to keep pretending. I like you. I really like you.”

A smile starts to tug at the corners of Vernon’s lips, and without thinking, you rush to add, “I’m not expecting anything, but I just—”

Before you can finish, Vernon cuts you off, closing the gap between you and pulling you into a kiss that feels like the weight of everything falling away. All the confusion, the guilt, the fear—it all melts as his lips find yours, soft and warm.

When he pulls back, his eyes are shining. “You don’t have to say anything more. I already know.”

You smile, your heart beating wildly. This is it. This is what you’ve been wanting, and now you’re finally getting it.

He pulls you into another kiss, deeper this time, and you can feel everything shifting between you two—like the world is finally falling into place.

The kiss is everything you’ve been wanting and more, full of tenderness and passion, but also full of understanding. You’ve both been waiting for this moment for a long time, and now it’s finally here.

When you break away, your foreheads rest against each other, both of you smiling like you’ve just found something precious.

“I think this is the start of something good,” Vernon murmurs, his voice full of certainty.

You nod, your heart full. “Yeah, I think it is.”

And for the first time in a long while, you feel truly happy, knowing that you’ve let go of your fears and embraced what you really want.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

author's note 𝟅𝟈 i love vernon and i love this song

masterlist.

[hoshifighting]

Hello! I love your work 🥹 I hope you are well

Just wanna ask your thoughts on how the seventeen members would react to see you driving speed / you being fast on connected apps like ‘Find My’ heheheeheh

Thank you ❤️

a/n: thank u sweetie, i loved it!! im doing well!! <33 i hope i understood well.. like a gearhead girlfriend?... made w/ luv ❤️

WARNINGS: mentions of breakig the speed limit

seungcheol: “yo yo yo, slow the fuck down, we ain’t tryna die today!!” he’s literally shouting through the app, and you could almost see him gripping the imaginary 'oh shit' handle in the backseat. he loves you, but he’s lowkey shitting bricks rn, “bruh, this ain't fast & furious... i swear if we crash, it’s on you.”

jeonghan: sigh “baby, why you gotta be like this?” he’s too cool to actually panic, but you can feel him judging the fuck outta you. he’ll make you feel like the most irresponsible person alive while also making it clear he’s kinda impressed. “next time, let me drive so we don’t both end up with speeding tickets… but like… you kinda look hot doing it though, not gonna lie.” he’s smirking on the other side of the screen.

joshua: “ok but like… are we trying to break a record or what?” he’s nervous but trying to stay calm, but you can tell he’s clutching his pearls behind that smooth tone. “maybe, uh, we could slow down just a tiny bit? just a suggestion...” definitely trying not to freak out completely, but he’s one bad swerve from straight-up praying.

jun’s all for it, honestly. he’s got his phone up to show the speedometer on his end, clearly thriving. “you wanna hit 120? bet, i’m down, let’s fucking go!” jun’s just living it, probably snapping selfies like it’s no big deal while the car’s shaking at 90 mph.

hoshi: “wait—WAIT! y/n, no no NO, what the hell?? slow down before i shit my pants.” he close his eyes, dramatic as fuck, genuinely convinced y’all are about to fly off the highway. nearly crying as he clutches his phone. “i got shit to do tomorrow!! i can’t die today, not like this!”

wonwoo’s just... chillin’. he doesn’t really say much at first. just sends a simple, “you good?” text. he’s the only one calm in this whole situation. when you don’t respond right away, he hits you with, “bet you won’t keep up with the guy in the ferrari tho...” and you’re like, oh shit. he’s egging you on. he's vibing with the chaos, but lowkey wants to see how far you'll take it.

woozi: “y/n, you better chill the fuck out.” straight-up scolding you. no fluff, just pure frustration. jihoon’s too rational for this speed demon shit, and he’s already calculating how much the damn fine’s gonna be if you get caught. “if you crash, you better hope i’m not in the car, ‘cause i ain’t helping your ass.” classic jihoon—pissed, but still kinda impressed at your audacity.

seokmin: “YO, SLOW THE FUCK DOWN!” pure panic in his voice,like he’s watching a horror movie. “do you wanna give me a heart attack? holy shit!!” he’s basically pleading with you at this point, full-on hands shaking, worried sick like a damn mother hen. “i’m way too pretty to die like this, please, for the love of god, just slow down.”

mingyu: WELL THIS MAN HAVE LICENSE FOR IT, no fear at all. “you drive like a fucking beast, lemme hop in the car next time.” he’s fully living for the thrill, no reservations whatsoever. he’s gassing you up like no one would. adrenaline junkie.

minghao’s already over it. deadpan as fuck. “why you gotta stress me like this? i’m way too zen for this shit.”

seungkwan: “OKAY STOP! STOP! i didn’t sign up for this kinda trauma. you tryna die young, huh?!” yelling in the app for you to pull over before he passes out from sheer anxiety. “i’m never getting in a car with you ever again, swear on my life.”

vernon: “i mean, if we crash, we crash. kinda sick though, right?” no panic, no complaints, just lowkey impressed. “but like… how fast can you actually go?”

chan: “y/n, this isn’t a fucking video game!” poor baby is stressed out, clenching his fists like his life’s on the line. “i can’t do this. my heart can’t handle this. you tryna give me a heart attack?!” genuinely scared shitless. “you really gotta slow down before i fucking pass out in the toilet bro”

[vonlycaonwife]

Wise, Billy, Ben, Anton, and Lycaon w/ shy and oblivious reader hcs

I decided to combine a couple of similar requests together into one because it seemed easier! Plus I thought this combo would be more interesting together then separated!

Warnings: none

Oh boy, if the teasing from Belle wasn't bad enough when he was sure it was just him crushing. Then it's way worse once Fairy enters the picture.

Fairy very much had to spell it out to him that they were crushing hard on him! He just thought they were socially awkward!

Now he has no idea what to do! He was fine! But now seeing the obvious signs makes him all shy and awkward too. Belle and Fairy are having a field day in the back.

Though once he's given himself a big enough pep talk, he doesn't really have any trouble trying to ask them for a date.

…at least he didn't think it would be that hard. But now he's dealing with a whole ‘nother issue! They're oblivious! Belle is cackling at his dilemma!

All I can say is good luck to him, he's gonna need it.

Nicole, Anby, and Nekomata are all screaming internally at these two! 

There's no hope for them, no matter how much they've tried to just outright tell either of then it doesn't work!

“Whaaaaat? Psh! No way! They don't have a crush on me.” Billy for the love of all that is holy THEY BLUSH ALL THE TIME YOU ARE NEAR!

“H-Huh?! M-Me? N-No way!” …my friend Billy has only let you hold his guns, he doesn't even let the other hares do that!

Even Wise and Belle have a hard time getting the both of them to understand their feelings are mutual, and they have a higher success rate!

Okay I can see Ben having a better time than the last two solely because he would be very genuine in his confession that even the most oblivious person wouldn't be able to misinterpret it.

But getting to that point is the hard part, as I can see him first thinking that the reason they're nervous around him is because they're scared of him. 

It would take a lot of convincing from the other Belobog employees to make him think otherwise.

And then the next challenge comes in, trying to find the best time to talk. Honestly this would be the biggest hurdle since he would be very busy working on the company's finances.

But once he has the time, he definitely takes this opportunity to tell them about how he feels!

Yeah…this is basically the same as Billy. The others are screaming at the double obliviousness. 

It doesn't help when Anton is constantly calling them his bro, which makes things worse. 

Belobog's only hope is to just stick these two into a closet and wait until they finally say something, even then there's a chance it just makes things even worse!

Honestly I'm praying for these two, and everyone trying to help them.

This man has a way better chance than everyone, since he wouldn't need to be told that they're crushing on him like the others. He probably already knew.

He knows he's handsome, so it wouldn't be hard to pinpoint exactly why they're so shy around him. If anything Rina would be able to confirm his suspicions easily if he needed a second opinion.

Though for him to go about confessing, that's where his troubles lie. Since while he would be making these romantic gestures, it would catch him off guard when they're misinterpreted as platonic.

Luckily he's usually able to bounce back quite easily, quickly explaining his intentions. King of communication here.

Honestly it would be hard for him not to be successful at confessing since he's very thorough in making sure his feelings are known.

[red-doll-face]

You're much younger than Arthur. Maybe he doesn't mind as much as he thinks he does...

Low-High Honor Arthur Morgan x fem. reader who is younger than him.

Some head canons that ended up way too long 😭😔 hope you don't mind too much! I am 23 currently so these are really in the mind of reader being over 18 at least. At 23, Arthur is still way older than me so I guess it's just what does it for me! Includes both high and low honor versions. Thanks for reading!! and please let me know if you like them 😭

Warnings: NSFW 18+ only pls, Daddy Kink, Innocence Kink, Corruption Kink, nasty boy low honor arthur being toxic and manipulative (not too badly tho) its ok sweetie arthur is here to balance it out 😳💖💓🥹😳😭

:High Honor:

He had convinced himself that he was way too old for you and quite honestly shut that shit down the second he found his mind wandering to how pretty you were, your own natural beauty catching his eye. He can think you’re sweet and nice, that you understand him and go out of your way to talk to him. Doesn’t matter, he mentally smacks himself for thinking of you past anything like “mentor” or something. He might steal a glance once in a while but he feels bad about it every time. It’s just that, stolen, because in his mind, you don’t belong to him and you never will. He’s more than 10 years your senior, it makes him feel like a dirty old man. Arthur has a strange conflicted energy around you, like he wants to spend time with you but also doesn’t want to come off as creepy or too attached to something that can never be. If you make efforts to be around him, he does appreciate it and will stick around but he always cuts it sort of short. 

Will subtly try to remind himself how young you are, referring to you as girl or kid to others or even to you. He has no idea you think that’s kinda hot. Will jokingly say you’re too young for certain things and thinks it’s cute if you pout and try to fight back against him. Holds alcohol out of your reach and clicks his tongue at you. When you point out the other young women in camp, he’s giving in but only a little, he still watches out for you. He’s protective in the sense that he does see you as someone who needs protecting. He can lie and say it's because of your age but really he just likes you and doesn’t want to admit it.

Anytime you try to get him to understand that you think of him as more than a vague father or brother figure, he’s missing the signs, straight over his head. Light jabs at his age, like calling him Mr. Morgan; make him roll his eyes a little bit but you can catch an endeared smile on his face. Truly a bit hard headed when it comes to noticing that you tease him with more than poking fun in mind. You have to find reasons to touch or kiss him on the cheek. He still might miss physical signs, real dumb dumb behavior. It’s impossible in his head that you would think of him like that. 

If you can get him to open up, having emotionally charged conversations with him is a good way to get him to understand that you care about him at least. Arthur just likes to feel like you’re listening and that you like him enough to care about his thoughts and feelings. If you offer comfort to him in hard times, he’s lowkey simping for you…He can be very closed off, not all too willing to share his truths, especially with someone who may not even understand but if he can be himself around you and you don’t judge, he can forget his feelings about your youth for a moment. 

It’s hard for him to initiate because he’s convinced that if anything were to happen between the both of you, it would be wrong or perverse in some way. If you tell him you like him, he might try to tell you otherwise, trying to get you to think differently of him. Suggests you find someone closer to your age or someone who hasn’t led a life like he has. It’s all really sad because he’s also insinuating that he’ll ruin your life in some way. 

The first time he kisses you will be way too gentle, you’ll hardly call it a kiss. He thinks of himself as too rough for you so he holds back like 99% in an attempt to seem more like a gentleman. It takes you grabbing onto him and deepening your kiss for him to give you more. He’s gentle, hands on your cheeks, holding you like you’ll break if he squeezes too hard. 

Expect a whole lot of “this ain’t right,” or “I’m too damn old for this,” at first. But once you get him to give in, there’s no going back. He gives you his all, no matter what. He does get a bit bashful making things official, especially when there's something to be said about it. John calling him something terrible for being with you like cradle robber or something puts a sour look on his face but he tries his best to power through it. “She ain’t a goddamn baby,” “She might as well be, how old are you again? Or did you lose count?” “Shut the hell up, John.” Hugs and kisses from you definitely make it worth it. He gets a bit used to it, letting things like that stop affecting him so much. 

He thinks he doesn’t deserve you and some small part of him will always believe that you could still be better off with someone else but he gets greedier and greedier with you, the more you love on him, he doesn't want to even think of you with anyone else. He's still so confused that you think he is attractive at his age. He’ll show you pictures of him when he was young and he sort of expects you to say that he was more appealing back then. But you don’t; you just pet his face, his scratchy beard and his sun kissed skin. Arthur lets you see his soft smile when you say you love him right now, more than anything. 

Taking your firsts might put a weird (not bad though) taste in his mouth. First kisses or virginity, he’s nervous he’ll come up short and not be what you're expecting. But his best is more than enough to make you happy. He wants to make your first experiences feel special and memorable, the last thing he wants is to put pressure on you, he just puts way too much pressure on himself. He ends up being just a little too gentle. He needs a lot of praise, a lot of egging on to get more confident. If you beg and plead for more, he can’t say no, he always gives you what you want. Getting him to be more “out there” is a little more difficult. He’s embarrassed to admit he might like when you playfully call him daddy or your old man. The guilt kind of turns him on but he has a hard time coming to terms with that. At his own pace, he’ll indulge more if you’re into it. You’re crossing some weird wires in his head, he swears. If you say it to him in the right context, he’s giving you a shocked look and a halfhearted scolding as he tries not to get turned on in the middle of what he’s doing. “You’re gonna be the death of me, girl,” makes you giggle at him. 

:Low Honor:

He might also be somewhat against it but for different reasons. He thinks girls like you have high expectations and it annoys him. But if he thinks you’re pretty that’s what he thinks. He doesn't let anybody get too close so if he’s thinking about you as more, your age is not something that stops him from doing so. It does just take him some time to think about letting you close enough for anything more than his usual rude demeanor and standoffish personality. 

The only way he'll know he likes you as a bit more than another thankless and ungrateful face in the crowd of people he begrudgingly provides for is if you thank him for bringing money or things back to camp. He gets a little quiet, trying to suss out ulterior motives but he thinks you’re quite adorable. Looks away and says it’s nothing. He’ll indulge you, doing things that are just for you, just to hear you say thank you again. 

He teases you more, emphasizing how young you are, in a way that rubs him the right way. Calling you little girl, intimidating you with his size, or keeping you away from certain things like cigarettes. “These are for grown ups, sweetheart,” If you’re a brat around him, he likes a bit of brat taming. “Dunno, might need to take you over my knee if you’re gonna act like that,” has you gasping and stuttering out a clumsy response.

It’s easy to sway him into taking things further with you. He isn’t one for hanging around the camp, so close to everyone else anyway, he likes his alone time. Catching him when he’s by himself, smoking a cigarette, is a good time to get on his nerves enough to force his hand a little bit. Stand too close to him and run your fingers over the handle of his gun and ask if you can hold it, he’s so close to snapping. The look in his eye under the shadow of his hat makes you feel 5 degrees warmer. “You better quit playin’ games with me, girl. Not sure you know what you’re askin’ for,”  Maybe not the best idea to defiantly ask him to show you.

Then you’re sat on his knee, he’s pressing his mouth into yours, sloppy kisses with no regard for whether you think it’s too much for you or not. He’s shoving his tongue into your mouth, one hand to steady you and the other groping your tits. He’s mostly trying to get you to be as noisy as possible. 

He’s really not guilty at all. Maybe a little but he doesn’t let guilt affect his actions. It may be true that maybe you could be with someone better than him but if you’re with him, you know what you’re in for. You’re his girl and there isn’t anyone else for you if he’s your man. Arthur may not admit it but in the back of his head, there is a voice that whispers to him that one day you’ll leave him behind. He overcompensates for it, doing what he can to see you smile, rather reluctantly asking if you’re happy with him once in a while. If you ask why, he’s unclear, “Jus’… makin’ sure,” your enthusiastic yes, followed by a kiss on his cheek actually flatters him a little, rubbing his neck, a quiet ‘good’ is all he has to say. 

If he gets shit for being with you, he brushes it off. He might get flack from some well meaning people, Hosea or Abigail might tell him to leave you alone, that he should know better. But he thinks they should know better too, Arthur has very little restraint. So if a young pretty thing wants to be his girl, he’s not saying no. Any notions of how guilty he should be don’t come from him. He may think he’s a sinner and a bad man but those things don’t stop him from wanting you. And Arthur always gets what he wants when he can help it. 

Arthur has never given too much thought about what women think of how he looks. He certainly doesn’t think too much of himself and knows he isn’t exactly in his prime, looks wise at the very least. He’s not too confident about his looks or his body really, he’s more confident when it comes to his abilities and skills. So if you tell him you like the way he looks, he isn’t gonna argue, just pleasantly surprised if he happens to believe you. There’s a chance he thinks you're lying. He knows there’s something perhaps a bit off with you, most girls your age don’t give him a second glance but does it stroke his ego when you stare at him, bite your lip when he grabs his belt, pulling all of your attention to the size of his hands and his crotch. 

If you’re softer about your affections for him, he’s happy to accept them too, you’re his little angel, but he has every intention to pull you down from heaven to make you his. You can start with soft touches over his face, rubbing up over his shoulders and chest but he’s quick to pull you deeper with him. His teeth nip softly at your lips, his hands roam all over you.

He's eager to take your firsts, in his twisted little head, he knows he can regulate what you think is normal. He doesn’t have to play gentle and sweet, he bites and sucks marks on you, slaps your ass pretty hard. Arthur’s happy to have himself be the man that ruins you for other men, he’s your first and your last. 

Sorry but he’s kind of toxic, he likes the way you do things like kiss him, or touch him, take him in your mouth; but sometimes he puts on a little bit of an unimpressed face, not exactly bored or anything, just enough to see you try harder to please him. He always gives in; especially when he can tell you’re trying. His proud little smirk and affection are something you might have to work for. Your inexperience is the perfect opportunity to have you eager to make him happy. 

Huge innocence kink, he loves to corrupt you, teach you about what a man does with a woman he likes. Even better if you have no clue, or you think babies come from kissing or something, god is he eager to fuck all of that up. He’s all for you calling him daddy too, the guilt or the imagery or whatever doesn’t do it for other people just makes it so much more appealing to him. Most of the time, he likes to keep your affairs private but once in a while, he’ll show out, just to show who you belong to. If people happen to overhear the racy things you two talk about and they give you a weird look, he just has a knowing smirk for the eavesdropper.

Can you tell that I think age gaps are hot? RDR let me fuck that middle aged man right neow!!! When will they let RDO be about dating Arthur Morgan??? 😔😔😔😔wish he was at least a fuckin stranger mission or something SIGHHHH anyway Thanks for reading and pls let me know if you liked it! Otherwise I'll feel like a freak LMAO

[twisted-whatifs]

A Guide to Healing Your Jamil

Yuu/Reader x Jamil Viper 

A/N: This fic will be pure hurt/comfort. A lot of repressed emotions and burnout, as should be expected from Jamil.

Love, Aren ♡

Summary: Jamil’s whole life had been about juggling a hundred things at once, putting his own problems last. You should think this got better after the overblotting, yet it didn’t.

This time when things become too much, you happened to be around.

1.3k words

Jamil tended to put more on his plate than he should. He was always living the life of a servant, instead of a person, even after he was told he didn’t have to. In the past when he did this, it would go great, until it didn’t. He would thrive, working more than living, doing what made his parents proud. Then one small inconvenience would have him falling down a cliff, with no one to catch him. After he overblotted, he tried to stop doing that. Keyword being tried, for it wasn’t long before he was back at it again. Constantly working, until he could do nothing but collapse onto his bed. This time, when he finally fell, it was in the privacy of his room. But what made this free fall so different from the others, was that he finally had someone to catch him, to help soften the landing.

“Jamil, darling. What’s wrong?” You had been sitting beside him on his bed, enjoying the small moment of peace you so rarely got with your boyfriend. The peace didn’t last long, though. He had gotten a text, in which it seemed to entail bad news. The more of it he read, the darker his expression became. His shoulders shook slightly, jaw locked as he fought back the urge to just let the tears escape. Jamil wasn’t one to let his emotions show, especially when those emotions could be viewed as a weakness. Yet here he sat, tears threatening to spill as he reread the text over and over again, knuckles turning white as he struggled not to chuck his phone.

“Jamil?” You tried again, shifting so you could gently cup his cheek. A part of your body was telling you to read the text, but you trusted that he would tell you himself should it be necessary. What that phone contained was none of your business, even if it would make it easier to understand. And so instead of reading the text, you look into his eyes in an attempt to catch his gaze. You gently wiped away a tear that managed to escape, as you watched him with soft love and concern. Jamil’s Adam's apple bobbed as he tried to find his voice, wishing so dearly that he could answer. Wanting nothing more than to catch his voice, drag it back and tell you that he was fine, no matter how big of a lie that may be. He wanted to tell you that he was fine, that he was just being overdramatic, for that is what he believed to be the truth. Yet, was that really the truth? Or just what he wished it to be?

“I’m… I’m fine, just exhausted.” Jamil finally managed to coax his voice into returning, answering you with a lie coated in thin, stringy truth. He turned off his phone, managing to put it away with a shaky hand, already having reigned in the tears from earlier. The only sign left that he had cried was his reddened eyes. And so, when he gently took the hand that caressed him, he pressed a soft kiss against your palm and tried to smile at you. He wanted nothing more than to return to the content silence from earlier, rather than being coaxed into speaking of his feelings. Yet, no matter how much he despised the thought of admitting he wasn’t some unbreakable force, he knew that for you, he would.

For you, he would admit that he had flaws, that he couldn’t play the role of Titan Atlas and bear the sky, that he wasn’t invincible. For you, he would admit that he feared the day Kalim had no use of him, for what would his parents say? He would admit that he constantly worked more than what he could take on, for if he did not then who was he but a failure of a son? So he told you his faults, told you of his flaws. His words were silent as the night breeze, sentences short. His voice that shook with every word, yet fought to be heard. He put his heart on display, even if he kept it behind bulletproof glass, for he wanted it to be seen. Understood. He grabbed the sheets of his bed, fists clenching as if his only lifeline was trying to escape. His knuckles turned pale in restraint, begging for some release. The lack of blood in his fingers was a concerning sight to see.

“I’m tired, Yuu. I’m tired and frustrated. Why can’t things ever be good for me? Why can’t I just, get something good for once?” The voice of a broken man filled the room with quiet pain. A quiet pain that he had hidden, for he was supposed to be strong. For who was he, if he could not be strong? A failure or a person? Good-for-nothing or human? Those were the questions he wished so dearly to know the answer. But he did not know the answer. He doubted he ever would. He thought of it at night, when the sun was long gone, the moon hidden by clouds. When the only thing to keep him company was the whispers of the night, the shadows of a tree and the rustle of its branches. He thought of the answer, seeking it until he could think no more, yet he never got any more clever on the subject.

“Am I a failure, Yuu?” Jamil spoke with a voice of defeat. He spoke like a man who was ready to give up. A man who had seen victory and knew that was not what he would receive. A man who wondered if he was a failure since he was just human and not a god. A failure for having the accomplishments of a mortal instead of an everlasting deity. Disappointment was an old acquaintance of Jamil. An old acquaintance that he would likely never forget. A friend who would visit him on his deathbed. So if he cried when your warm embrace comforted him, don’t mention it. And if he shook as you whispered soft words of reassurance, act like you didn’t notice. Because Jamil is a man of many talents, but accepting his faults is not one of them. Accepting his feelings is not something he knows of, so bear with him when he tries to hide. Help him come out of his shell, help him but don’t force him. Be the guiding hand he needs instead of the terrifying voice that screams.

“Lay down, Jamil. Lay down and rest. I promise I’ll stay right by your side.” Comfort and reassure him, tell him you won’t leave. Let the darkness that consumes him get dissolved by your light, as you caress his face. Brush his hair away from his eyes, and he will let the exhaustion follow along. The grimace he bore which will turn to a melancholic calm. Kiss his remaining tears away, and he will forget why he tried to hide his feelings in the first place. His final restraint left with the tears he shed. And at last, as he finally finds the strength in himself to try, let him drag you into bed with him. Let him curl up against your side, as sleep will creep in through every window and crack. Let the sleep take you in as well. “You’re strong. You’re strong and your flaws will only make you stronger.” Whispered words that the breeze carries away. A gentle hand stroked long black hair, tracing every small bump of the braids that adorned Jamil's head. Bodies that entangled under the covers, one in fear of being left alone and the other afraid of leaving. The sound of a heartbeat, the side of his face pressed against your chest. Hands that gripped your clothes, holding you close. A silent night went by. A dorm that lay forgotten. A Grim who wondered where his henchman was. And a Jamil that finally found his peace. A man who finally found out that he should not climb mountains alone, for he needed someone to catch him should he fall.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

ROT

hurt/comfort pairing. tangerine x gn!reader summary. tangerine sees through your lies about having a tough time word count. 859

There hasn’t been much to push you out of bed lately. Your complex internal feelings much preferring the protection of your duvet than everything else outside the bubble of sadness you built around yourself. The covers acting as a shield from the real world.

Rotting is the only way to put it really, wasting away. Scrolling mindlessly on your phone from early to late hours of the day, doing whatever deems necessary to quieten and numb the persistent nattering in your brain. Though it was utterly boring, the hours upon hours of staring at your phone all beginning to merge together.

With Tangerine and his incessant worrying of you and your needs, you had to disguise your sadness within sickness — dramatising a bad belly and pounding head in order to keep his anxiety at bay.

You knew your dismal states often consumed him, the thought of being unable to help you acting like an axe in his heart. You couldn’t bear pulling him into your pit of darkness, so you decided to keep him out of it. Wanting to preserve him as a flashlight to navigate yourself from the bleak.

Tangerine has been staying with you to keep you company during your faux fever, maintaining things around your house you were unable to keep up with. All in all being a great house guest and boyfriend.

You hear a slight creak of the floorboards outside your bedroom door, Tan’s head peering through the gap mere seconds after. You turn slightly, momentarily meeting his eyes from across the room.

“Alright?” he questions briefly, voice soft as not to disturb you.

“Yeah,” you reply, response short to keep up the charade.

He signs faintly before he’s on the move, walking across your room until he’s right in front of you, knees knocking at the edge of the mattress. He looks down at you, head cocking slightly as if things are beginning to click in his brain. Dots starting to connect.

“How you feelin’?” he asks, looking over the side of your face, waiting for you to look up at him, though you never do.

“Better,” you lie.

You keep your gaze cast downwards as you shift under his attention. And as you go to tug your covers, wanting to reshield yourself once again, he’s bending at the knee. Lowering himself to look you in the face.

“It don’t look it,” he gently shakes his head, seeing through your lies. The tone of his voice holding no such anger or malice.

You exhale shakily and bring a hand to your face, thumb and middle finger resting over your temples, covering your eyes from his forever intense gaze.

“Why you pushing me away?” he asks, his question sounding more rhetorical — quite like he himself already knew the answer. “Hm?” he hums.

He reaches for the hand covering your face, his index hooking into the V between your thumb and forefinger, pulling it from its secure shielding. He holds onto your hand carefully, sweetly entwining with your fingers as he leans in, pressing a kiss into the back of it.

“What’s the matter?” Tangerine questions, eyes softer than you’ve seen before. Looking over you like the sheer sight of you alone was killing him. “Come on,” he prompts, nodding gently when you finally meet his eyes. “Talk to me. Come on, love.”

You look at your hand in his, watching his what seems to be nervous fiddling — his finger’s playing with yours while he awaits your response. Though, you don’t really have one. You don’t have an answer to give him.

“I don’t know,” your voice cracks faintly as you offer him a shrug, speaking like the lack of reasoning is also weighing heavy on your mind. “I’m just sad,” you murmur, your brows beginning to furrow woefully.

He nods, expression soft and hurt as he looks over you, trying to show you he understands.

“What can I do?” he asks, caressing the back of your hand with his thumb — tracing faint circles into your skin.

You offer him another measly shrug as your tear duct begin to fill. You really had no answer.

He stills, fighting off the lump in his throat upon the sombre sight of you. “Can I do anything?” he rephrases, emphasising whether anything can be done at all.

You give him another shake of the head, the motion as soft as the others.

He nods understandingly, lips forcefully straightening as his free hand reaches for the side of your face — thumb gliding under the wetness under your eye, flicking away a tear.

Your close your eyes upon the warm contact of him, finally feeling a moment of peace.

“Sorry,” you mutter, voice thick from your restless days in bed. It was like you were now finally growing sleepy.

“Don’t be daft,” he whispers, the motion of his head reinforcing the gravity behind the statement. Though you could no longer see it — your eyes fluttering closed.

Tangerine holds onto both your hand and cheek, keeping you safe and protected as he sits on the floor beside your bed. Caressing you sweetly until you’re drifting off into some much needed sleep.

⎯ ☆ ⎯