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bbyquokka · 2 days ago

Text

nerd in love

– after a misunderstanding, jisung finally tells yn how he feels at his birthday party .ᐟ.ᐟ

pairing | han jisung x fem reader

genre | mutual pining , fluff , uni au – 18+ is strongly advised!

cw | she/her pronouns used ; mostly in jisung pov ; food and alcohol mentioned ; a lil suggestive at the end

words | 10.1k ~ ( 10,133 )

notes | well, here it is! i started this before my break (which is why its so late) but finished it during my break n i just wanted to post it bc im proud of this n i adore this version of jisung n the friendship dynamics !! :( don’t forget to leave feedback, reblog and tell me what you think here. i hope you all enjoy! ‹3

m.list — wips list — you can also read it on my ao3

dont repost. dont translate. minors, ageless & default blogs; dni! feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

your pen taps against the white, lined sheet of paper that has a few scribbles and doodles on. your cheek resting on your hand as you sigh a little in boredom.

the professor has been groaning on and on about the same thing. you want to listen and take in the information as you know it's important, but your mind wanders and you start to daydream; making imaginary scenarios.

you'd imagine an alien suddenly abducting you because it heard your silent cries of boredom. you and the alien would become the best of friends, the alien showing you around it's space shuttle and inviting you to have some tea and cake before making friendship bracelets – because that's what humans do, right?

other times, you'd imagine a strong, buff greek god suddenly turning up in class. he'd walk to you and take your hand, claiming that you're his long lost bride, before carrying you bridal style and off into the sunset where you two would get married and have babies.

so caught up in your fake scenarios, you don't see that another student is now looking at you.

the student is sitting in front of you–his usual designated spot. black hair that's long and permed and covers his eyes. glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. dressed in a button up shirt and black jeans, paired with a few accessories and black doc marten boots.

“excuse me.” he whispers, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “you're making too much noise.” he frowns.

you snap out of your daydream and sit up straight, wiping the imaginary drool from your chin with the back of your hand.

“o-oh.. sorry jisung.” you laugh awkwardly. he tuts and rolls his eyes before facing the front. you scoff a little and sit back in your seat.

you don't have very many friends in university, a small handful but it's enough and you don't have very many enemies either, but since jisung started the same class as you, he's been cold towards you.

he's not like this with other people, just you–it's like he can't stand you.

but for some reason, his cold, mean demeanour just makes you want him and find him even more attractive.

it's not a kink of yours, to be spoken down to and degraded. in fact, you love having the attention on you and being treated kindly and gently so it's unknown to you why you find him so attractive.

“alright class! that's all for today. you're all dismissed.” the teacher says. you silently cheer, packing up your things in your backpack.

jisung rises to his feet and swings his bag onto his shoulder, letting it rest there before pulling out his phone. you both catch eye contact with each other.

“see you tomorrow?” you say politely and smile. jisung quickly looks away and mumbles something before walking out in a rush.

maybe you're still daydreaming, but you swore you could see the tips of his ears turning a light shade of pink.

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“fuck, i’m so late!” you alternate between running and speed walking your way to your class. your alarm didn't go off this morning so when you finally awoke, it was up and out in a flash. “i'm so screwed!”

today is an important day. the teacher was going to go over a few things on a test that's due in a few weeks so you really needed to attend it to get an idea–but alas, here you are. hair disheveled, dried up drool on your chin and your socks mismatched with your backpack hanging off your shoulder.

you breathe a sigh of relief before stopping in front of the lecture hall doors. you take a deep breath and fix yourself up before reaching out to open the doors.

the doors suddenly swing open. the students exiting the hall. you stand in the middle of the students as they walk around you, engaging in conversations with their friends.

you frown in confusion, looking at the time on your phone. your eyes widen even more, bulging from the sockets.

“oh wow.. i really fucked up.” you were a lot later than you thought.

you look up to see jisung looking at his phone. today he's in a plain, black t-shirt and skinny jeans. a few chains hanging around his neck and converse.

“hey, ji!” you call out. he looks up at whoever is calling him before his face twists into disgust when he realises it's you. you ignore this, mainly because he rushes past you.

you frown and chase after him, trying to keep up with his speed–but he's too fast.

“hey! wait! i know you heard me, ji!!”

“don’t call me that. my name is jisung.” he mumbles.

“ok ok, sorry! just, i need help!”

“find it elsewhere.” his tone of voice is cold towards you; like always. again, you ignore it.

“please, i’m desperate! my alarm didn't go off and i clearly missed class! i know it was super important too and–can you slow down and listen to me?!” you huff.

jisung lets out an irritated sigh and looks at you; phone in one hand, earphones in the other. he stops in the middle of the corridor and looks at you.

you bend down, hands on your knees to catch your breath.

“you being late has nothing to do with me. it's your own fault for being late.” he says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“yeah, i know.”

“you fucked up and now you want my help? how could i possibly help you?”

“i need your notes.”

“my notes? fuck no.”

“oh please, ji… sorry–jisung. i really, really need this.” you pout. jisung groans and rubs the back of his neck.

“ok, fine.” he sighs in defeat. you're taken aback by how easy it was for him to surrender his notes over to you; but you don't complain. he takes his notebook out of his bag and hands it to you. you cheer and open it up, looking at the notes.

his handwriting is beautiful. his notes are easy to follow, however, you've come to the realisation that looking at notes isn't going to be enough for you to get the information to stick in your mind.

“make sure to give it to me by the end of the day. i’m usually at the library.” he says as you flick through his notes. “if you can't find me, find minho. he's my roommate.”

you don't respond due to the fact that so much information is causing your brain to go into information overload. jisung sighs again and, as he is about to walk away, you grab his arm.

“wait!” you make a quick mental note of how soft his skin is and how muscular he feels. jisung looks at your hand that's on him, feeling heat quickly rise to his cheeks and his heart to thumb erratically in his chest.

“your hand.” he whispers. you lean in close to get a better understanding of what he just said.

“pardon?”

“hand. your hand. please remove it.”

“oh!” you quickly remove your hand from him. jisung clears his throat and looks down, hoping that his long hair covers his face to hide the blush that's happily sitting on his cheeks.

you see it though and make a note of how adorable he looks. you feel your own heartbeat skipping beats and beating erratically but you put it down to you having to sprint to class.

“i don't think this will be enough.” you start. he looks up at you. “the notes.. i don't think it's going to be enough.”

“well, there's a library and also the internet. there’s this thing called google, so use that.”

“teach me.” his eyes widen in shock.

“t-teach you?! fuck no, yn!”

“please, jisung! just until the test is over! i really, really need this. i’m desperate and, although your notes are so perfect, it's going to take a lot more than notes for me to understand it!”

“then ask the tutor for a one-on-one! or ask your friend!!” he stutters in shock. his cheeks are now bright red.

“you know the tutor doesn't do one-on-ones and my friends don't even take this class! oh please, jisung. pleeeaseee. pretty pretty pleeease.” you pout, giving him puppy eyes.

“yn…”

“i’ll buy you your coffee everyday for a full month.”

“... just my coffee?”

“what sweet treat do you like?”

“...cheesecake.” he answers reluctantly.

“then coffee and cheesecake on me for a full month!” jisung runs his fingers through his hair slowly, a soft, defeated sigh leaving his lips as he contemplates.

“you really need this, huh.” you nod your head fast to the point of dizziness. “you drive a hard bargain, yn. but fine.”

you cheer and grin widely.

“on some conditions though.”

“what?”

“we study in the library, you don't be late and we only do this until the test is over! after that, i won't teach you anymore.”

“yes sir.” you salute. “oh, do you want my contact information? might make it easier to set up study dates.”

“study dates?”

“yeah! i assume we have different schedules due to different classes, so it's better to text or call each other so we know when to meet up!”

“true.. ok, fine. give me.” you tell jisung your contact information. he phones you and you smile as you save his contact information.

“thank you so much, jisung! you're the best!” you say before sprinting off to find your friend leaving a flustered jisung bewildered in the middle of the corridor.

“study dates, huh.. i kinda like that.”

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“dude, chill. you're just going to the library to study” jisung’s roommate laughs as he watches jisung scurrying around the place as he packs his bag.

minho is relaxing on jisung’s bed, shirtless and in sweats with round glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose whilst eating an ice pop. him and jisung have been the best of friends since university started and he became jisung’s roommate.

since then, they've both been inseparable. many people speculate that something is going on between the two of them, indicating a relationship–minsung, they call them.

“i am chill.” jisung mumbles as he shoves in a few too many pens into his pencil case.

“yeah, suuuure.” minho laughs as he licks and sucks on his popsicle. “i’ve watched you run around the place like a headless chicken.”

“dude, please hush.” jisung looks at minho just as some sticky sweet ice drops onto minho's chest. he scoops it up with his fingers and eats it. jisungs sighs “do you have to eat that on my bed?”

“yeah. problem?” minho smirks

“yes. quite a few actually. you're going to get the sheets sticky!” jisung whines.

“not the first time i've heard that.” minho laughs at his own joke. jisung rolls his eyes but the corner of his lips turn upright into a smile as he holds back his laugh.

“you're disgusting.”

“yeah? and you're a mess right now, bro.” minho places the wooden popsicle stick on jisung's side table before swinging his legs around to plant his feet on the floor.

he stands and walks to jisung, ruffling his hair a few times.

“you're just going to study, that's all. it's not that big of a deal, bro. unless….” minho smirks and wiggles his brows at jisung.

“unless what? what are you implying, minho?” jisung says as he crosses his arms across his chest and raises his brow.

“unless you, oh i don't know, like her.” jisung's eyes widen a little and he clears his throat, turning his head to avoid eye contact with minho. “aha!! i knew it! you do like ‘em!”

“no, i don't. fuck off, minho.” jisung mumbles and rushes to his desk, messing and organizing a few things to ‘look busy.’

minho skips over to jisung with a smirk. “c’mon ji. we all know you've been smitten with yn since the very beginning. it's soooo obvious!”

“dude, please. i don't like her like that. and it's jisung–not ji!”

“ahuh. whatever you say, dude.” minho laughs.

“plus, she probably doesn't like me in that way..” jisung mumbles before sighing softly.

“have you asked her that?”

“well… no but–”

“then how do you know?”

“i just do, ok?! enough with the questions, minho. don't you have that media assignment to do or something?”

“nope.” minho says, popping the p in an obnoxious way. “all done, which means i am a free man.”

“no one is a ‘free man’ in university, minho.” jisung laughs.

“ugh, you're right. even though one assignment is done, i still have a gazillion more.” minho runs his fingers through his long, shaggy hair. “speaking of which, i best start with at least one of them.”

“good luck, man. you'll do great.” jisung says sarcastically, paring it with a sarcastic grin.

“fuck you. good luck with yn, jisung.” minho turns around and walks out of jisung's bedroom. “hope you get laid!” he shouts.

“fuck you.” jisung laughs. minho sticks his middle finger up at jisung before laughing and closing his bedroom door.

with the last of his things packed, he zips up his back. he checks one last time in the mirror, fixing his hair and spraying his best perfume onto his neck. he puts his hand up to his mouth, huffing on it before sniffing. pulling a face, he grabs a mint and pops it into his mouth, sucking on it as he puts on his shoes and a leather jacket.

“it’s just a study thing. it's not that serious. calm down, jisung.” he mumbles as he laces up his shoes.

but he can't stop his heartbeat from thumping loudly against his ribcage and excitement to rush through his body. his excitement is so big, it makes him shake.

“it’s not a big deal. she probably doesn't like you that way.” he continues to mumble in an attempt to calm himself down as he takes one last look in the mirror. a smile slowly creeps up onto his face and a small squeal escapes from the back of his throat.

“fuck! i’m so screwed.”

minho hears this and laughs at his friend's excitement before putting on his headphones. if there's one thing minho loves, is seeing his best friend happy and over the moon. he just hopes he won't get hurt.

“cute.” minho says to himself before typing away at his keyboard. jisung leaves the bedroom and shouts a goodbye to minho before heading out to the library.

nervous doesn't describe how jisung is feeling. as he walks to the library, his legs start to feel like jelly and the urge to turn back strong the closer he gets to his destination. he hopes that you're not there first just so he has time to calm himself down.

he even tries to listen to music in hopes that it would calm him down somewhat. but the soothing sounds of violins and cellos do nothing (he even tried listen to a few seconds of whale noises but even that was useless)

“we’re just studying. nothing more.” he repeats under his breath as he walks inside the library.

the place is nicely decorated, modern with a hint of an historic touch. students at tables and little cubicles, headphones on and studying. some in groups, whispering as they do projects of various kinds. some making the most of how quiet it is to take a quick nap. the occasional rustling of snack packets paired with the occasional crunch breaks the silence every so often.

it's silent but it's lively.

jisung says a few hellos to some students he recognises (either from classes they take together or them being minho's friends) as he searches the area for you.

his heart thumping as he searches. he silently cheers when he can't see you because he has a chance to calm down, but, as he walks to an empty table at the very back of the room, his victory is cut short as he sees you sitting there; ready and waiting.

you have your back to him (and to everyone else) and you're hunched over your notebook. jacket resting on the back seat with your bag on the floor, by your side. jisung takes a quick, small peek over your shoulder to see what you're doing only to see small, quick doodles on the page from boredom.

his heart swells a little as it's another thing he's learnt about you. just when he thinks you couldn't get any more perfect.

“hey, yn.” he whispers only to realise that you won't hear him no matter how many times he calls for you due to the music that's blasting from your earphones. he makes a quick mental note of who you're listening to before trying to get your attention again.

“hey, yn.” he places his hand on your shoulder to which you jump at, causing jisung to jump at your reaction. you look behind you as you take out your earbuds, sighing in relief.

“jesus, jisung. you frightened me.”

“sorry, yn. i didn't mean to.”

“no, it's ok. my music may have been a little too loud.” you laugh as you put them away and jisung sits next to you on one of the chairs.

“you know you'll get tinnitus if you keep doing that.”

“yeah… i know. it's a bad habit but music sounds better loud, y‘know!” jisung nods in agreement before pulling out his notebook and pencil case.

you watch him lean down. you take the time to admire him. his hair soft and fluffy. you have to resist the urge to run your fingers through it. a faint smell of strawberries and flowers emits from his hair; a sickly sweet yet pleasant smell.

his skin is dewy and perfect; not a blemish in sight. a beauty mark sits close to his lips. it's a small mark so it's no wonder you never recognised it before.

you notice the way his biceps bulge and flex with every motion of his arms. the chains from his neck dangle a little and his aftershave wafts towards you and tickles your nose hairs.

“you smell so good.“ you mumble. jisung looks at you.

“excuse me?”

“you smell so fucking good.” you repeat and lean in close to him. your hair tickles his jawline and chin as you smell the skin of his neck. “what do you use?”

“...i–urm, i don't know. i just picked it up when i was shopping.” you hum and nod. jisungs soft cheeks slowly start to feel very hot. “personal space, yn. ever heard of it?”

“oh!! sorry. my bad. i didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.” you laugh awkwardly as a awkward silence falls upon you both.

jisung turns his head away from you so you can't see him but his cheeks are very red and hot as his heart beats fast.

you were so close to him. so very, very close. he thought he was going to have a heart attack. he could smell you and to him, you smell so delicious and sweet; like vanilla cheesecake.

“this is not good for my heart.” he mumbles to himself.

“by the way” you begin. jisung looks at you. you slide a cold coffee and cheesecake in the middle of you both. “told you i’d stick to my end of the bargain.”

“i didn't expect you to do it so soon, yn. it's only the first session.”

you shrug. “a deals a deal.” jisung takes the cheesecake and coffee, sipping on it and humming softly as the bitter, cold taste coats his tastebuds and the caffeine enters his system.

“i didn't know what flavoured cheesecake you like so i hope it's ok.”

“what flavour is it?”

“strawberry”

“mhm, not bad.”

“you don't like strawberry?” you say with a small pout. he shrugs.

“it's fine. not the worst. but it's too sweet for me. i’m a vanilla kinda guy.”

“aah, ok. i’ll make a mental note of that.” you say as you tap your temple, laughing softly. jisung lets out a small puff of air from his nose. you see the corner of his lips curl into a small and that makes you feel like he's accepted you.

“now, enough chitchat. i actually want to be done in a decent time so, let's begin?”

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“sooooo” jisung looks up at minho, his chopsticks half hanging from his mouth, resting on his bottom lip.

the smell of spicy, instant ramen fills the air. minho cooked some food for the two of them as they have both been studying hard for upcoming tests and assignments.

instant ramen with a slice of cheese on top. rice cakes, fish cakes and other yummy goodnesss swim in the broth. the kitchen looks a mess, pots and pans scattered everywhere–it contributes to the rest of the dorm with the various clothing and shoes scattered around.

“soooo…” jisung repeats, eyebrows raised. his bangs are tied back in a pink hair tie (your pink hair tie), a white vest top and sweats on his body. minho is also in sweats but with an anime print t-shirt and a sanrio clip to hold back his bangs and a pore strip on his nose; getting tighter and tighter by the second.

“have you asked her yet?”

“asked her what?” jisung takes some noodles and a fish cake, putting them on a small, separate plate before grabbing some kimchi.

“dude.” minho rolls his eyes and lets out a long, irritable groan. “for being smart, you sure are dumb.”

“you're just dumb through and through.” jisung smiles playfully as minho sticks his middle finger up at his best friend.

“fuck you.” minho takes a rice cake that's soaked in the ramen broth. he chews it, the sound of sticky, chewy rice cake emits from his mouth. “anyways! have you asked yn about the party?”

jisung lets out a slow grunt. “not this again, minho.”

“what?!” minho says with a shrug as he continues to chew and talk.

“i already told you, and eeeeveryone else. i don't want a party or anything of the sort, minho. i just want it to be a nice, quiet day.” jisung’s eyes drift to the half chewed rice cake that's being tossed around in minho's mouth. he pulls a face in disgust. “and can you please not talk with your mouth full?”

“you're such a prude.” minho rolls his eyes but swallows his food regardless. “anyways, you know me, changbin and chan won't let you have a quiet birthday!”

“yeah, no shit.” jisung rolls his eyes as he slurps on his noodles. he wipes his mouth with a napkin before munching on some kimchi. “still don't understand why you all decided to plan a birthday party without my knowledge knowing full well i said no in the beginning.”

“dude, you're so boring.” minho jests. “it's your birthday!” he emphasise. “you're supposed to have a party, eat lots of cake and junk. drink beer, hang out with friends and maybe, get laid.”

he wiggles his eyebrows at jisung and laughs softly. with a heavy sigh, jisung puts his chopsticks down.

“no matter what, you're going to go through with this, aren't you?”

“yup!” minho obnoxiously pops the P. “plus, things have already been ordered and organised for it. we already have a few people who confirmed they're attending.”

“who?”

“mhm–” minho puts down his chopsticks and thinks, looking at the ceiling as he does. “felix from fashion design. hyunjin from art. seungmin from business studies and jeongin who is also from fashion design.”

“how do you know all these people?”

“well, unlike some–” minho's eyes widen as he looks at jisung, indicating he's talking about him in particular “–some of us actually get out. plus, chan is like a social butterfly and changbin is charismatic. put them two together and well, people can't say no.”

“yeah, true. i remember when they begged me to work on a track or something for their music assignment.”

“they both practically dragged you to do it.” minho laughs.

“only because you told them i said yes without me knowing about the situation!”

“because i knew you'd say no! you have a talent for this stuff, jisung. don't let it go to waste.”

“thanks.” he mumbles, hanging his head low in embarrassment and awkwardness.

“is that… is that a blush i see?!” minho smirks.

“me? blush? for you?! hell no!” jisung frowns. “the ramen is spicy, that's all.”

“dude… it's mild.”

“...fuck you.”

“so, are you going to ask yn or nah?”

“if it gets you and everyone else off my back, then sure”

“good. make sure you do!” jisung opens and closes his hand, mimicking minho's yapping.

“yeah yeah yeah. can we stop talking about this party and eat?”

“just looking out for ya, man. i know how much you like ‘em!”

“i know. i appreciate it, minho.” minho nods and continues eating the ramen. jisung, on the other hand, is now lost in thought.

how the hell is he going to get the courage to ask you something like that?

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the study sessions are slowly coming to end. you kept up with your end of the deal, providing jisung with an endless amount of coffees and cheesecakes whilst he has provided you with an endless amount of insights.

one thing you have learnt about him is that he is smart. he knows how to do things with just a quick glance. he's good at explaining things so it's not confusing.

you've been stuck on a problem for some time and no amount of teachers advice and youtube videos helped you. all it took was five minutes of jisung explaining the solution and it clicked.

today, however, you are alone in the library. jisung messaged you to let you know that he wasn't going to make it. you felt sad and a little heartbroken–you’ve become so accustomed to jisung's presence that you feel a little cold and lonely right now.

you can't concentrate. the music you're blasting down your ears isn't helping either. the text in your book is slowly starting to merge into one big splooge of text. the information just isn't getting through to you and it's frustrating.

you sit back in your seat and sigh as you take your headphones off and throw them on the table.

“this is pointless.” you mumble. “i can't concentrate. maybe i should just skip it.”

you take your phone and browse through social media before subconsciously opening up the food app. your mouth salivates as you look at the various burgers, fries, pizza and sweet treats–and then your stomach growls.

“maybe i’m just hungry. that's why i can't concentrate.” you pack your things and head to the university cafeteria. the menu looks dull so you settle on a simple sandwich and drink.

the cafeteria is packed. the atmosphere is buzzing with the endless chatter of students. you take your seat and pick up your sandwich.

it's a standard ham salad sandwich with some dressing on. the slices of ham and lettuce (too much lettuce for that matter), tomatoes and other salad stuff squished together by two slices of thick, white bread, smothered in dressing.

you take a few bites. it's ok. it's not bad but you've had better. the bread is a little dry for your liking but the dressing takes that away. you open the cap of your bottled drink and take a few swigs to help wash it down.

“what do we have here?” you turn your head in the direction of the voice–that thick aussie accent you know all too well.

“ew. go away chan. you're disturbing my peace.”

“charming. don't think that's something you should say to someone you haven't seen in a while.” he says with a pout as he walks to your table and sits down. he's joined by another man, a friend of his, perhaps. he sits opposite you.

“and whose fault is that, huh? maybe if you answered my calls or texts every once in a while.”

“sorry, yn. i’m just a busy man, y’know.” chan grins as he leans back in his seat, brimming with confidence.

“yeah. too busy being the campus whore.”

“blah blah blah. least i’m getting some.” he elbows you in the side a few times. “what are you getting, huh?” he jests.

“a degree? y'know that thing i came here for in the first place.”

“oh ha ha. very funny, yn.” chan mocks, rolling his eyes at you before stealing your sandwich and taking a bite.

the male opposite you clears his throat as a way of telling you both “hi, i’m still here.”

“oh! yn, this is minho. minho, yn.” minho's eyes widen a little and his lips twitch into a small smile.

“so, you're yn. nice to put a face to the name.“ he grins.

“you know me?” you blink a few times in confusion.

“i’m jisung’s roommate.” you mentally slap yourself. of course!

“oh my god. i’m so sorry. i didn't realise! i’m so bad with names.” you whine. minho laughs and brushes it off.

“and how do you know jisung, yn?” chan says with a mouthful of food; your food to be exact. you glare at him, daggers darting out of your eyes and straight into chan as you snatch your sandwich back off him.

“jisung’s my private tutor as of right now.”

“oh.” chan nods before his eyes suddenly light up. he looks at minho for confirmation. “wait, hold up.”

minho nods and smirks. “nah. really?!” you watch the two men talk in code as they communicate by facial expressions and a stings of “ohs” and “yeahs”

“uh, hello. i’m still here!” minho laughs softly.

“sorry, yn.” you shrug it off and eat your sandwich. “how do you two know each other by the way. chan has never mentioned you before.”

“good. keep it that way.” you say coldly, mainly aiming it at chan. chan pouts and nuzzles into you, head on shoulder. he looks at you with puppy eyes and a pout.

“aww. don't be like that, bestie. you secretly love me.” you flick his forehead.

“me and chan are childhood friends. haven't been able to get rid of him since.” chan smiles at your sweet implication. “he's like a parasite. or a fruit fly in the summer.” his smile drops and now, it's your turn to give chan a big, sarcastic grin–teeth and all.

“rude.” he mumbles. you shrug and finish off your sandwich.

“so, jisung is your tutor.” minho speaks. you nod. “are you attending his party?”

“party? what party?” you look at chan and minho. minho sighs a little and runs his fingers through his hair.

“i warned him.” he mumbles under his breath in irritation before looking at you and smiling softly. “me, chan and a few others are organising a birthday party for jisung.”

“his birthday is coming up?!” your eyes widen. “when? i should get him a gift”

“14th.”

“14th?! that's pretty soon.” you mumble.

“jisung told me he would invite you.” you shake your head no. minho rubs the back of his neck. “well, this is awkward.”

“it’s ok. maybe he has his reasons as to why he didn't mention it to me. no biggie.” you say with a smile. minho nods before a few minutes of silence dawn upon the three of you.

“out of curiosity.” you break the silence. “how is jisung in general?” minho tilts his head to the side. “it's just he seems so….” you think for a second, thinking of the right (and nice) word to use “... cold towards me.”

“cold?”

“mhm. he seems so bitter towards me and i don't know why. we barely even talked in class but when we did, he would always tell me i’m making too much noise and to hush.” you slowly start to feel slightly irritated.

“jisung is fine with me.” he says with a. shrug. “he's pretty chill around me.” you huff.

“i know he can be friendly because whenever i see him in the corridors talking to someone, he smiles and is so friendly!”

“what’s he likes now, yn?”

“well, now that we've been spending more time with each other, he's… i don't know… avoiding me to some degree? he won't make eye contact with me. he doesn't like it when i touch him.”

chan raises his brow and looks at minho, both men thinking the same thing. chan puts you in a gentle headlock and ruffles your hair.

“hey!! get off me!!” you push chan a few times, using all your strength to make him release you.

“you're pretty naive, yn.” chan laughs, continuing to ruffle your hair. he ignores your screams and yells, minho laughing at the two of you.

finally, chan let's you go. you push him with all the strength you have left before fixing your hair and glaring at him. chan pouts and nuzzles into you once again.

“i’m sorry, yn. forgive me?” he puckers his lips and makes kissing noises, edging closer and closer to you. you hold him at arm's length.

“ok ok!! just quit doing that!!” chan laughs and pats your head gently.

as fast as he was in the cafeteria, jisung is soon out of it after seeing you and chan, with nothing but festering jealousy in his stomach.

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you bounce through the library to your designated spot at the very back, coffee and cheesecake in each hand with your bag swinging on your shoulder.

jisung is there, punctual, as always. but something seems a little off. the air around him seems thick and suffocating–dark even.

“hey!” your cheerful voice ringing in his ears, making his heart beat fast. you sit next to him and slide over the coffee and cheesecake.

today he's dressed in a yellow and orange flannel shirt and white tank-top. black jeans and boots to accommodate. a few of his nails are painted in black, chipping from wear and tear.

he gives you a cold nod of the head. you frown a little but choose to ignore it as you take your books and pens out of your bag.

“so, what's the plan for today?” jisung shrugs. “...ok, well how about we go over that question i was struggling with?”

“k” he reluctantly moves closer to you. the scent of cinnamon and vanilla wafts towards you and tickles your nostrils, making you let out a small hum of satisfaction.

“you smell good, jisung.”

“mhm, thanks.” you let out a silent sigh. something is wrong with him and you don't know why. is it something you've done? something you haven't done?

jisung is being very dry and sour with you. his usual method of teaching you is that he would go into detail and repeat until you'd understand it, today, however, he's very short and sharp.

“i don't understand.” you say. jisung sighs, a long irritated sigh. you bite your lip, thinking that you've done something to hurt him in any possible way.

“what don't you get?”

“all of it…” he sighs again and rubs his face. his eyebrows furrow together in irritation. the jealousy he is feeling in his stomach is festering, becoming more and more intense.

every time he looks at you, he is reminded of the way you and chan were together. he hates that. how could you fall for someone like chan? he thought you were better than that. his head swimming with negative and harsh thoughts.

before he can stop himself, the words just spill without any control. “why don't you get chan to do it for you.”

you blink. “chan? what does he have to do with this?”

“i mean, you two are close are you not?”

“i mean.. well, yeah, i guess.” you shrug. “he does get on my nerves sometimes though. he is such a pain! but he's a good gu–”

“i thought you were better than that, yn.’ he spits.

“the fuck is that supposed to mean?” you feel the bubbling of rage in your stomach as you stare at jisung, who stares at you back. the jealousy has consumed his body and it's too late to back out now.

“as in, i thought you had standards. chan? of all people? he's a whore, yn. everyone knows that he sleeps around on campus and you chose him?!”

“i don't appreciate the way you're talking about him, jisung.”

“it’s the truth, yn! and you know it so why are you with him?! you can do sooo much better than him!!”

“oh yeah?” you challenge. “then who is good for me, mhm? please, enlighten me?”

jisung freezes. he looks away and chews his bottom lip. you scoff and pack your things in a hurry.

“i don't have to listen to this bullshit. you've been in a shit mood with me this whole time, which is fine. everyone has bad days. what's not ok, however, is you taking it out on me and bad mouthing the people i care about.” you stand up, swinging your bag onto your shoulder. jisung stares at one spot of the desk, burning holes into it. “text me when you're in a better mood.”

you walk out, leaving jisung to think about what he has just done.

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

“jisunggggg. sungieeee. knock, knock. let me innn!” the sound of minho's high-pitched, cheery voice irritates jisung to the bone. he lets out a slow and irritated groan, hot puffs of air slowly exhaling from his nostrils.

he pushes his glasses up his nose and runs his fingers through his unwashed hair. sitting at his desk in the same baggy band t-shirt and sweats from a few days ago, he checks his phone for the nth time, only to be disappointed.

he hasn't spoken to you nor seen you since that day. in class, it's worse. he's tried to catch your eye a few times, smiling when he does, only for you to turn away. he spent days loathing in his own self pity, locking himself up in his room and only coming out for food, bathroom breaks and class.

minho has had enough. not only is jisung's mood ruining the atmosphere, but minho has no idea as to what happened that day. he was home when jisung came back to the dorm, looking like he was on the verge of tears.

when he asked, jisung always gave the same answer of “mind your own business.”–and he has; for several days now.

“let me in, jisung.” the repetitive sounds of minho's knuckles against the wood door cause jisung's stomach to bubble more intensely with anger–until he finally snaps.

he rushes to the door and swings it open, brows furrowed together. minho's smug grin makes him foam at the mouth.

“what part of leave me alone don't you understand, minho?” jisung's words dripping with poison. minho shrugs it off.

“all of it.” he pushes past jisung, making himself at home in his bedroom. jisung has no time to protest, all he can do is watch his best friend jump on his bed and rest on his back, arms behind his head.

with a heavy sigh, jisung walks back to his desk. he turns his back on him, hoping that if he ignores his friend, he will get bored and eventually leave. minho watches his friend pick up and put down his phone several times to the point where minho feels irritated by it.

“so?” minho starts

“so?” jisung repeats

“going to tell me what's happened? haven't seen you this down in a while.”

“nope. i'm good.”

“you can't keep moping around the place, jisung.”

“i can and i will.” minho groans and stands up, walking out of the bedroom. jisung mentally cheers only for it to be cut short when minho throws his jacket at jisung.

“put it on.” it's more of a demand than a sentence, but nonetheless, jisung obliges because if he doesn't, minho will force it on him.

“where are we going?”

“to the cafe.” minho puts on his shoes, jisung following suit.

“aah, dude.. i don't really fe–”

“shut up, we're going to the cafe whether you want to or not. a change of scenery might cheer your moody ass up because, to be quite honest, i’m tired of seeing your gloomy ass face.” he looks at jisung who is frowning at him. “in the nicest way possible, of course.”

jisung rolls his eyes before following minho to the local (and one of his favourite) cafes.

it's a small, local café with an old fashioned sense of style to it. the tables and chairs are worn. cushions on the chairs losing their stuffing and the tables scratched and chipped. the décor is outdated, indicating that the café has been there for quite a few years; but it feels like home to some.

the bell above the door chimes as minho and jisung walk in. they walk to the counter and say their orders before taking their lunch and drinks and sitting at a table.

jisung takes a sip of the coffee. he feels the ice cold beverage trickling down his esophagus and into his empty stomach. minho munches on his chicken salad sandwich, watching his friend look in his drink and ponder.

“i fucked up.” jisung mumbles, lost in thought. the more he thinks about you, the more he can feel the tears threaten to spill down his cheeks. minho tilts his head to the side and as he is about to open his mouth and encourage his friend to continue, a familiar sound in the form of a laugh causes jisung's head to shoot up and look in that direction.

his eyes widen. he feels relief and happy to see a smile finally on your face; but then that same, the green monster in the form of jealousy parks itself on his shoulder and starts whispering in his ear.

minho watches jisung's jaw muscles clench. his facial expression goes from relief to jealousy. minho follows jisung's gaze and raises his brow at the sight of you and chan.

chan is being his usual, goofy self. he's telling you typical dad jokes and being a little grotest by telling you his latest hook-up details. you push him by the arm and roll your eyes, sipping your coffee in the process. chan continues to joke around with you, play fighting a little by wrapping his arm around the back of your neck loosely and rubbing the top of your head with his knuckles.

“i can't fucking stand this.” jisung mutters bitterly under his breath. minho turns and looks at his friend who is green with jealousy.

“stand what?”

“seeing someone as precious and innocent as yn be with someone like chan!” minho blinks a few times.

“what do you… jisung, what do you think yn and chans relationship is?”

“isnt it obvious? they're going out!” minho gives jisung a few blank stares and blinks before bursting out into laughter, choking on his own saliva in the process. “what?!”

jisungs cheeks flush red with embarrassment but also with anger. his own friend laughing at his statement, finding amusement in his sorrows.

“are you serious? please tell me you're joking?” minho stutters through his giggles.

“dead serious.” jisung says, deadpan. “don't you see the way they are with each other? i saw you all the other day, in the cafeteria! chan's arm around yn and them being all…. lovey!!”

“oh my god.” minho calms himself down. “you really are serious!”

“i told you! i even asked yn about it and well… it didn't go so well.”

“is that why you've been so moody and upset lately?” jisung nods his head slowly, feeling some type of guilt. minho sighs heavily, wondering how he can soften the blow of the news he's about to give his best friend.

“jisung…” minho starts. “yn and chan are not dating.” jisung's face drops.

“excuse me?”

“they're not dating. they're just childhood best friends. apparently they've known each other since they were kids. “

“so you're telling me.. that i got it all wrong when i saw you three in the cafeteria?“ minho slowly nods whilst giving a sympathetic smile. jisung sits back in his seat in disbelief. “why did chan never mention yn?! fuck, i fucked up… i really, really fucked up…”

“oh, c’mon. it can't be that bad.” minho tries to lighten the situation.

“dude. i told her i thought she had standards! i called her best friend a whore!”

“i mean, chan is a whore. he knows he is and he doesn't hid–”

“dude, please.” jisung interrupts. “not right now.” minho shrugs and sips his coffee whilst jisung rubs his face whilst groaning. “what do i do?”

“well.” minho puts down his coffee. “you make it right. admit you were in the wrong. explain how you were a jealous lil guy because you like her and that you fucked up.”

“and how do i do that? she’s been avoiding me for weeks and it’s not like i can go up to her right now and be like oh hey yn, sorry i called your best friend a whore oh, by the way, i like you.” jisung mocks himself in a high pitched voice, his face turning red in frustration.

“you're so dramatic.” minho rolls his eyes with a soft, yet heavy sigh. “for a smart guy, you're pretty dumb too.”

“pft, am not!” jisung scoffs and folds his arms across his chest. “... only when it comes to stuff like this.” he mumbles. “i just… don't know what to do or how to fix it. i really, really like her, minho.”

“ok? and? what do you want me to do about it? there's no point telling me about your feelings for yn. i'm not the one that fucked up and then decided to hold myself up in my room to drown in my own self-pity.” minho says with a shrug.

to the outside world, minho's words sound harsh but to jisung, it's a reality check.

he sighs softly for the nth time as he glances over at you. he watches you laugh and smile with chan, soaking in your beauty and the way you glow with happiness.

“to make it easier for you.” minho breaks the few seconds of silence between the two, feeling a little responsible for his friend in need. “i may have mentioned your birthday party to yn.”

“what?! why?”

“bro, you weren't going to mention it! so i just.. did you a favour.” minho shrugs, a smug look on his face.

“... is she coming?”

minho shrugs. “dunno. she seemed interested at least but this was before you called her best friend a whore so–”

“that was an accident. i didn't mean to.. i just got too–”

“worked up? jealous perhaps?” minho says, or rather states, with a raised brow. jisung hums and nods his head slowly, teeth chewing on his bottom lip.

minho chews on his straw as he watches his friend think. he can see the cogs turning in jisung's skull. jisung is inexperienced when it comes to relationships so seeing him like this, brings minho slight amusement.

“look, jisung. if she turns up, you approach her and apologise whilst also telling her how you feel.” minho holds his hand up to jisung who is just about to protest but is quick to close his mouth and listen. “if she doesn't turn up, you find her the next day, apologise and tell her how you feel. heck, text her if you have to!”

“dude… you know i can't do that!”

“ok. then you have the other option, which is to keep wallowing in your self pity and watch yn from the sidelines.” minho shrugs. “i don't know dude. be the main character for once. you clearly like her so take the chance.”

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jisung's birthday rolled around. you haven't heard nor spoken to him since the argument so you didn't originally plan on turning up to his birthday party; but chan being chan is forcing you to go as his plus one.

“is this ok?” you smooth down your party outfit as you present yourself to chan. chan is sitting at your dressing table, dressed in blue, skinny jeans, a compression shirt that hugs and molds his muscles and combat boots. a silver chain around his neck, earrings in one ear and a few rings on his fingers.

he looks up from his phone and smirks playfully. he wolf whistles at you to which you scoff and roll your eyes at.

“looking good there, yn.”

“really? i threw this together at the last minute.’

“you look great, don't worry. you're gonna knock ‘em dead.” chan laughs.

“i really don't want to go, chan.” you groan.

“weeeell, too late. you're coming with me to this party, even if i have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you there.”

chan has heard about your little argument with jisung from minho. the two of them had a drink together during the week and chan listened to minho vent about jisung.

once minho mentioned the fight did it all come together. you've been feeling down and withdrawn, not knowing what to do or how to deal with your feelings. you've put on a fake smile and basically faked your way through the weeks–but chan has known you for years so he can see through you, he just didn't want to press you.

you'll come to him when the time is right; you always do.

“do i have to?” you ask for the nth time whilst putting on your shoes. chan laughs at your contradicting actions and shakes his head before standing up.

“yes, you do. it'll be fun and hopefully, it'll lift your spirits.” you pout.

“i have been a little moody lately, haven't i?” chan raises his brows and scoffs.

“a little!? pur-lease! i thought knives were going to spawn out of your eyes at one point.”

“mhm.. i’m sorry chan. it's just been a long couple of weeks with a lot of thinking.” you sigh softly. chan elbows your side gently.

“hey. let's not think about that right now. let's go to this party, have a couple of drinks and a dance, yeah?” you nod slowly.

“not like i have a say in this.”

“that's my girl. now.” chan grabs your hand gently and pulls you to the front door. “let's go have some fuuuun!!!”

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

it's loud. the bass of the music rings in your ears and shakes the ground beneath you.

it smells. the stench of stale cigarettes, sweat and alcohol tickles your nostrils and causes you to feel lightheaded and nauseous.

you've tried several times to turn away and head back but chan was always right there.

chan abandoned you to go chat up some girls so you're sat on the sofa, surrounded by people making out, drinking or passing out (if they haven't already)

you hold your red, plastic solo cup which is filled halfway with some punch. the smell is pungent and the taste is awful. it's too strong for your liking so you take small, delicate sips.

as the night rolls on, you have yet to see jisung. not that you want to but, it would help you feel some comfort and less suffocated to see a familiar face.

you glance at your phone screen. 11:20 pm. it's soon time for you to leave. you don't want to be here any longer than you have to and considering that chan has left you alone, you don't feel the need to be here any more.

you stand up from the couch to walk to the kitchen. you shimmy your way in and out of crowds of people who are dancing, talking or making out with someone that they won't remember tomorrow.

you pour your drink down the sink and throw away your empty cup. as you're about to turn and leave, a familiar voice is heard from behind.

“yn. hi.”

you turn on your heels and a sense of relief washes over you as you come face to face with a face you've been longing to see (even if you don't want to admit it)

you forget why you're so angry at him for a split second. his beauty never fails to make you feel star struck and silently go “wow.” but then you remember.

“hi.” you reply coldly.

“can i talk to you?” he shouts, hoping his voice isn't drowned out by the music.

“not right now. i was just about to leave.” you walk past him to leave. jisung grabs your arm gently to stop you. you look at him and he is quick to remove his hand.

“please? just… let me explain…” he chews his bottom lip, his brows scrunched together in the middle. you think for a second and sigh softly, nodding slowly.

“ok. fine. but make it quick.” you swear you see the corner of jisung's lips curl into a subtle smile, his eyes lighting up a little. he beckons you to follow him so you do.

you follow him outside. compared to inside, where it's hot and humid, the harsh, cold night air is refreshing and soothes your damp skin.

“look.” he starts as he stops walking to turn to you. “i know i was a complete asshole.” you scoff but don't say anything. “it's just… aah fuck, how do i say this.”

you watch jisung slowly become flustered. the tips of his ears turn red, his hands clammy as he shakes a little. he shuffles on his feet to shift his weight and avoids eye contact with you.

“fuck.. this is so hard… minho said it'd be easy once i get talking but fuck minho.” jisung rambles to himself. the anger you felt slowly disappears and is replaced with… joy?

your stomach feels a little bubbly and tingly with excitement as you watch this nerd, whom you've grown so accustomed to, become easily flustered and shy because of you.

“just say what's on your mind, jisung.” you say with a shrug. his eyes flicker at you for a second before looking to the ground.

“ok.. well…” he takes a deep breath. ”i like you and i always have and the reason why i got so pissed and called chan a whore, who i later found out was your childhood best friend, was because i was jealous of how close he was to you and i saw red and i didn't mean it. in fact, i've been cooped up in my bedroom in my own self-pity because i'm a coward and i don't deserve someone as wonderful as you and i’m really sorry. can you forgive me for being a lil silly?”

you blink at him several times. jisung dared take a breath during his little speech so all the information that has suddenly been laid on you, isn't going through your head right now.

“ah fuck.. i fucked up again, haven't i?” jisung shakes, his voice wavering as it breaks the tension in the air. his nerves shaking his body as a shaky hand picks at the skin around his fingernails. “god i knew i shouldn't have said anything. why did i take minho's dumb advice.”

“i… i don't know what to say, jisung. it's all so much.” you say in pure shock.

“oh, that's ok! i’m not looking for an answer right now. please, take your time. i just wanted you to know my true feelings and why i acted out. the last thing i want is for you to feel forced.”

“so let me get this straight. the reason you acted out is because you got jealous of chan, thinking that we were dating?” you watch jisung slowly nod his head, his cheeks turning pink; whether that's from embarrassment or from the harsh cold air. “and that you.. like me?”

jisung nods again. “silly, right?” he laughs, trying to soothe himself of the raging anxiety that's heavy in his heart and stomach.

“no.. no! not at all. i think it's kinda… cute.”

“cute?”

“yeah. i mean, well, being away from you has got me thinking about me, you and well.. us and how i feel.” jisung walks closer to you, closing the gap between you both.

“and how do you feel, yn?” you swallow a little. the atmosphere has suddenly shifted between you both. jisung is close to you, his body daring to press against you.

you can see every detail of his honey skin under the faint moonlight. the cold breeze sweeps between his hair strands. a faint hint of cinnamon and apple from his aftershave tickles and hugs your nose making you inhale deeply for more.

“at first, i was angry at you. i didn't understand why you were so angry. but i spoke to chan about it and during the conversation, he made me realise something.”

“what?” jisung encourages. he gingerly places his hands on your waist, unsure and testing the waters. his touch is as light as a feather and when you don't push him away, his grip becomes firm.

“that maybe, i like you too and i have for the longest time. i just never realised it because i thought you hated me but, when we spent all that time together, i started to notice the smallest of things about you and i found them to be so cute. but they're cute because it's you.”

you slowly run your hands up his chest to his shoulder. his breath hitches and body trembles from your touch. with more confidence, jisung pulls your body flush against his own, closing the gap completely.

“so, you like me too?” his voice dips to a whisper. you hum and nod slowly. “do you have any idea how happy that makes me?”

“why don't you show me.” you whisper against his lips, teasing him by brushing yours against his slowly and gently. they feel soft and plump, kissable even.

“you're playing a dangerous game, yn. you have no idea how long i've wanted you.”

“show me.” you whisper again, furthering your teasing by ever so lightly licking his bottom lip with the tip of your tongue.

“fuck.” jisung groans. his lips crash against yours in a heated kiss that's filled with longing. your eyes widen a little but are quick to flutter close. you melt into the kiss, the both of you becoming synchronised instantly.

you tilt your head to the side a little to allow jisung to deepen the kiss. he licks your bottom lip and you part your lips slowly.

his tongue slides in to meet yours and you're in a battle of dominance that you lose. jisung's hot kisses make you melt and crave for more. you forget about your surroundings, forget where you are. everything is a buzz in your ears and you can only focus on you, jisung and how your body is tingling and twitching.

jisung is the first to pull away. he pants heavily, his own body trembling with excitement.

“wow.” you hum in agreement. as soon as his lips are off yours, you want them back on you again; whether that's on your own lips or on your body, you don't care as long as you get to feel the softness again.

“is this real?” he asks.

“it's real.” you respond, giggling softly. “and i’m not drunk either so.”

“so, what does this make us?” jisung cautiously asks. he wants to have an idea of what you two are slowly becoming. he wants to make sure you're both on the same page.

“whatever you want us to be, jisung.”

“well, i want you to be mine. i want to show you off to the world, proudly. i want everyone to know that you belong to me. i want to spend every single second of the day with you and during the night, i want to spend every single second caressing your body from head to toe. i want to soak myself in every single bit of detail from your body. i want to drown you in pleasure and my love.”

you swallow and let out a small, shaky breath at the implications behind his words. your body trembles with excitement and anticipation from where tonight is going to end and for the future with jisung.

“then.. shall we go ditch the party and go back to mine? because i want that too.” with a fast nod of the head, jisung holds your hand and is quick to make way to yours.

“let's go and let's be quick. i want to make you mine, in more ways than one.”

#kwritersworldnet #wkcnet #straykidsland #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #han jisung #jisung #jisung fluff #han jisung fluff #han jisung x you #han jisung x reader #jisung x you #jisung x reader #skz x you #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you

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starkeynation · 3 days ago

Text

Is it casual now?

Content : angst, a bit similar to the scene where Sofia overheard Rafe saying she’s not his girlfriend, inspired by the song Casual by Chappell Roan (may or may not be accurate)

a/n : sorry in advanced i know Chappell is for the girlies also idk if im proud of this but your likes and reblogs will always be appreciated🤍

── ⋆⋅˚ʚ♡ɞ˚⋅⋆ ──

It has been exactly 4 months since you met Rafe Cameron, the kook king you never knew you would fall so deeply for. The first time you met him, you were nothing but a blur in his world. A passing figure and a random pogue that was at his party. But Rafe, you saw something in him the moment you met his sparkling blue eyes. You couldn’t exactly tell what it was. Maybe it’s the fact that he looks so handsome even under bad lights, or the way you could listen to him forever every time he speaks. At that moment, you were ready to risk it all.

You made your move that night. The way you charmed him may have made him realize you both were something more than strangers passing through each other’s lives and ever since then, you were both inseparable. Although he said “No attachment,” the first time you both hooked up, you still went along with it, hoping it could be real one day.

Sometimes when you’re hanging out with your friends outside, you would hear some rumors saying you’re just a girl that Rafe bangs on his couch. The pogues call you a loser for still hanging around him but you ignore them and the rumors because most of the time he treats you as if you were someone he couldn’t lose. Just two weeks after knowing each other, he invites you to dinner with his whole family. The way he fucks you in the bathroom while his parents are still at the table, the way he brings you to the country club and shows you off, the way he’s eating you out in the passenger seat, and mostly the way he talks to you, so gently and sweet that got you thinking maybe this isn’t just some dumb love.

You’re at the pub where you agreed to meet Rafe. The sky on the way there was already turning a heavy blue slate, signaling that rain was on the way. You enter the pub and recognize Rafe’s back immediately standing on the other end accompanied by Topper and his foul girlfriend Ruthie. As you are about to approach them, you hear his voice, “She’s not my girlfriend okay, it’s just…casual. No strings attached.”

You freeze. The words land like ice in your chest, sharp and cold. If that isn’t enough you then hear Ruthie say, “You sure about that Rafe? How do your parents feel that you’re living with a pogue,” she smirks, her eyes gleaming with sarcasm.

“I’m not fucking living with a pogue okay,” he says annoyingly.

You have to steady yourself. You could feel your stomach churn as you’re processing what you’re hearing. You can’t believe it. You both never had a “talk” about being exclusive, but you thought you were starting to matter to him and close to making it official.

You hide behind a column in the middle of the pub, trying to decide what to do. Part of you wants to walk away, leave without saying a word, and let him figure out what he’d lost. But you couldn’t just let it go. So you make your way to the table, keeping a neutral face, and try to hold back your tears.

“Hey, there you are,” Rafe smiles, as you approach him.

“Hey,” you say, your voice steady, though it takes everything you have to keep it from shaking. “We need to talk.” Before he could say anything, you grab his hand taking him outside the pub. As you stand outside, it’s already drizzling.

“Whoa, what’s wrong? Can't we talk inside? It’s raining,” he asks, his voice full of confusion.

You let go of his hand and go silent for a moment. He looks at your face that is now about to cry, “Baby what’s wrong?” he says.

“Don’t call me that if you don’t mean it Rafe,” you mutter.

He blinks. “What are you talking about?”

“I heard you,” your voice loud now. “Telling them we’re not dating? No strings attached? Seriously Rafe? After these past few months? Is it casual now?”

Rafe’s face shifts, the unease creeping into his features. He clears his throat, trying to smooth over the tension. “Look, I thought we’re on the same page here-“

“Same page? What same page are we talking about?” You cut him off. “I thought you were starting to look at me differently now Rafe.” You fluster. “Oh and not to mention calling me a pogue? I thought we’re WAY past that..”

He sighs, scratching the back of his head. “Ok about that I'm sorry kay’. I didn’t mean to call you a pogue just, you know…Topper and Ruthie, they caught me off guard. And you never really talked about anything more serious, so I figured we’re just not together.”

You could feel the heat rising in your chest. “I never talked about it? Oh so now I’m the one to blame? Are you serious?” Your eyes narrow.

He pauses, trying to find the right thing to say. “I just…I’m happy with the way we are right now. I’m not-“

“Not what? Not ready to be in a relationship? That’s bullshit.” You cut him off again, not wanting to hear any excuses. “How can you stand there and say you’re okay with this? After all the plans we made, the endless nights we spent?” you continue, meeting his gaze that looks unbothered. “You know what…I can’t…yes, I tried to be the chill girl who holds her tongue and gives you space but not anymore. No, I’m done,” you say, trying to walk away.

The rain is getting heavier now, and both of you are soaking wet. “Wait,” he calls out your name. “Just wait okay…I’m sorry I hurt you, yes I would be lying if I said this doesn’t mean something but just give me time okay, I just…I can't do relationships right now,” he says, grabbing your wrist trying to stop you.

“No Rafe,” you shake your head, a tear runs down to your cheek. “I’m done waiting. It’s hard Rafe…It’s hard being casual when my favourite bra lives in your dresser and it’s definitely not casual when I’m always on the phone talking to Wheezie like I’m her sister,” you swallow, biting your inner cheek trying to keep your emotion in check.

He gives a small dismissive wave, like I’m overthinking things. “Well I did warn you no attachment, y/n,” he says, with such cold detachment, as if his words are nothing more than a simple fact, devoid of any emotion.

You look at him with disappointment crawling up to your throat. He isn’t even trying to make it work, not even pretending to care about how you feel. You hate the fact what he said is true, he did warn you not to get attached and you hate yourself even more for dragging this on for so long. You stare at him for a moment longer, “Fuck you, Rafe,” then you turn and walk away to your car. There is no use in arguing with someone who has no intention of changing their mind. If this is how Rafe sees you, then he is not the guy you think he is.

Maybe he is okay with keeping things casual but you deserve more than that. Rafe Cameron can go to hell.

#drew starkey #obx #rafe cameron #outer banks #outer banks rafe #rafe cameron x reader #rafe fanfiction #rafe imagine #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #angst #sadgirl #rafe x reader #rafe angst #rafe x you #Spotify

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minnies-puppydoll · 2 days ago

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{ Kinkmas Day 1: }

❄️ .*•snow bitten•*. ❄️

pairing: bangchan x reader

summary: you beg chan to play in the snow with you, but who knew it would be that cold? but don’t worry, he’ll always be there to warm up his favorite little girl.

warnings: daddy kink, caretaker roles, praise, comfort, manhandling, degradation, pussy eating, size kink/mentions of being smaller than chan, slapping, nipple play, let me know if i missed any!!

the snow fell peacefully on your face as you watched the white, foggy sky. days like these with chan are always the best.

you thoroughly insisted on coming outside to play in the snow, despite chan telling you its too cold and to wait for the thermal coats he bought to come in the mail. but, he knows his girl, always so impatient.

so you throw on a sweater and a thin jacket, obviously not enough to be let outside by chan, so you slowly open the cold doorknob and let your boots hit the snow.

you step around slowly, taking in how the ice cascades along the ground, covering all the the plush, green grass that once was. you scoop some up with your hands, the little crystals bite at your hands warmth, you forgot mittens.

despite your impatient disobedience, chan was an amazing caretaker to you. it’s like he knows everything about you. your fears, insecurities, and doubts, they’re all his now. always have been. chan enjoys having someone to take care of, he loves feeling needed, you both were made for eachother it seems.

you and chan have been dating for half a year now, yet sex was still a fresh topic. sure, you wanted to many times, but chan wants you to wait. you thought it was because he didn’t want you, but he quickly made sure to correct that.

“no no, sweet girl. of course i want you, but i want you to learn to feel safe and secure without feeling like you need to have sex with me, i don’t want you to do it for reassurance. can you wait for me? daddy wants you very much, little angel.”

waiting is hard. he’s evil using that nickname then telling you to wait. you know he’s right, but progress is nothing when you run your hands along yourself, pretending he finally decided to have you.

its easy to worry about things when you’re surrounded by such peace and silence, alone with your thoughts while chan isn’t there to take them all away like usual.

what if he abandons you? or maybe you’re just holding him back? what if always having to take care of you is a nuisance to him?

chan always said they were useless thoughts, and that he’ll always love you, but its hard to not overthink with everything that happened with the men in your life growing up.

..what if you’re dissapointing him right now by sneaking out into the yard? tears start to fill up your eyes.

“i’m sorry, chan.”

you mutter under your cold, visible breath to the image you made of him standing over you, his arms crossed with a fed up expression. but, when you turn around, you bump into something, no, someone warm with firm shoulders wrapped in a thick sweater.

chan greets your eyes with a smile when you open them, one that makes you melt despite the unforgiving snow, one that fills up that empty core inside yourself with safety and security, one that shows you no signs of irritance or resent, just pure, unconditional love. nothing like the chan your insecurities made in your head.

“enjoying the snow, my little angel? warm enough?”

the nickname washes your fears away, healing your upset mind. you can only look up at him innocently through your lashes, nodding your head and playing with the button on his coat.

“mhm. sorry i left. um..chan?”

“hm?”

“..you would tell me if i was too clingy? or just annoying sometimes, right? i know it’s a hassle to always take care of me or..stuff like that.”

you say avoiding his gaze and pouting, chan pets your hair, caressing his hand down to the back of your neck to cup your cheek softly with his big, firm hands. all of a sudden you don’t wanna play anymore, you wanna be with him.

“sweet girl..i know. im not upset with you at all. nothing you can do or say could ever stop me from loving you, remember?”

all of the feelings you wished you could’ve felt back then as a little girl poured into your head and spilled from your eyes and into chans chest as you pressed closer to him, nuzzling into his comforting scent and dependable chest.

he knows how vulnerable you can get when you feel like this suddenly, so chan holds you, placing his hand on the back of your head so you feel safe. when you pull away to look at him, he takes your small hand in his, stroking your skin with his thumbs. but, he stops when he notices you shivering. the snow soaked your clothes and left you wet and cold in his arms.

“..daddy?”

“hm?”

“i want to tell you something else..but i don’t want you to get mad at me.”

you say, chewing on your nail. chan smiles fondly at you.

“what is it? you know you i love you. more than anything in the entire world.”

“..i want..to start having sex with you. not for selfish reasons anymore, just need to feel you. is that okay?”

for a moment chan is silent, its a painful silence for you. please, say something. anything. then, chan starts giggling.

“..daddy?”

“im so proud of you. using your words for me, hm? need me inside you? need to feel my heart closer to you, baby? god, i think if i loved you anymore i might really explode.”

you hide your face in his chest again, burning with shyness. you didn’t think it be this easy, now you just wish he would stop teasing and fuck you already.

“feel better? come here. lets go inside and get you warmed up, silly girl.”

i guess there is a god.

chan sits you down on the large bed with thick, winter comforters cushioning you softly.

gently, but without delay, he begins to unbutton your coat. he gazes into your eyes with every soft clasp, as if you and him are the only ones in the universe..it hums an intimate fuzzing in your head, and an un-wholesome reaction between your thighs.

your coat is smoothly brisked off of your shoulders and discarded onto the floor somewhere, not that you really care about the details right now, as he quickly learns the hard way that you weren’t wearing much under that coat.

chan doesn’t seem that suprised, he simply takes notice of the pink, lacy bra you thought it was a good idea to wear outside and looks back at you with narrowed eyes..

“this is why you were so cold, huh? my dumb, baby..im suprised you didn’t freeze to death.”

you bite your lip when his warm hands roam around your cold breasts, circling his thumbs along the frills of the bra and your sensitive nipples just below them. he knows what he’s doing.

he teases you by leaving it on, running his hands down to your inner thighs, crouching down in between them.

“lay back for me, angel.”

he coos softly with a tender smile. he tucks his thumbs under your waistband, pressing your legs up and hastily peeling your thick, thermal pants off of your legs, revealing a matching set of pink lacy panties and fuzzy, winter thigh highs.

you hid your face as chan stripped you like a doll, then you giggled a bit as he smirks and sighs at your cold weather fashion choices.

“really, sweetheart? maybe you planned this , huh? thought about me stripping that pretty body? ..what am i going to do with you? such a little slut, even in winter.”

his firm hands caress your plush hips, before landing a smack to your thigh. you yelp and squirm in his overpowering grasp, before hes sticking his thumbs in the sides of your cute panties and slowly pulls them down, revealing your soft pussy with a string of arousal connecting to your underwear.

chan parts his lips and lets out a soft noise at the sight, biting his lip and pulling them off your legs. his hand is large over your tummy, the skin is rough in contrast you yours as his strokes his thumb over you sweetly.

“sweet thing. gonna let me take you? i’ll treat this pretty pussy so well as long as you go dumb for me.”

he brings his thumb up to your mouth, you suck on it lightly and bat your lashes at him.

“whore.”

his head is perched between your thighs, pressing soft kisses on your sweet skin.

when your eyes meet his, your stomach flips. just the visual of his mouth so close to where you need him most makes you whine and grind your hips up into nothing.

you have no choice. his arms are trapping your legs open, with his hands securely holding your hips in place. you try to squirm out of his grasp, and the feeling is delicious. you can’t move an inch.

“hm? can’t move, huh? that’s right. daddy’s got you.”

he coos, with a hungry tone in his voice. like he’s been waiting for this, for the moment he has his little girl all vulnrable and desperate for his body. his kisses to your thigh reach the lowest part of you, he comes to a halt and raises his head.

chan looks at you for a second, admiring and savoring the look of you before he gives you what you want. he bites his lip and smiles, revealing his sharp canines pressing on his plush lips.

he lowers his head closer to your twitching cunt, letting his breath tease you first. your red, puffy clit throbs at the denial of his sweet mouth wrapped around it.

“ahn- channiechannie please! can’t take it anymore. i’ll do anything just pleaseplease-“

“who?”

“fuck..daddy? daddy please.”

chan ignores you. he thinks your begs and cries are so adorable, but he already knows what he’s gonna do.

the first touch of his tongue sliding against your pussy feels like suffocating magic. but it doesn’t take long before your squirming and grinding your hips for more stimulation as the tip of his tongue circles just around your tortured little clit.

but you can’t move. and he won’t stop teasing you.

“ah! stopstop stop teasing please! jus’ wanna cum- wanna cum in your mouth, daddy-“

chan shuts you up quickly by wrapping his pretty lips around your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue along it, sloppily making out with your pussy like he really means it.

your back immediately arches off the bed, tossing your head back along with it. in between your legs feels like heaven, blanketing your mind with silky, glowing white as you let out an absolutely fucked out scream.

you hear a squeaky chuckle between your legs from chan, he cups your ass with his hands and pulls you in closer to his greedy mouth. his eyes meet yours again, there’s a haze of darkness that passes through his before he bites a little nip on your pussy.

you yelp and jolt up, trying to plead him to stop, but chan is quick to sooth your tortured cunt with two talented fingers working their way into his pretty dolly’s hole.

his fingering is fast paced, has you gripping his hands and squirting all over them in minutes. chan handles his girl so roughly, but he looks down at you so carefully and attentive, as if you’re really made of fragile porcelain. his gaze is full of love and adoration, letting out sweet little giggles at your reactions. he can’t help it, you’re just so cute to him!

chan crooks his fingers up to thrust into your g-spot, you already can’t take it, but you die a little bit when his idle thumb presses into your clit, thrusting in sync with the rest. the added stimulation sends soaring stars of pleasure up your squirming body, chan’s veins on his arms show as he fucks his fingers up into you harder, manhandling an orgasm out of your poor little pussy.

“g’nna cum, yeah? that’s all the dumb little dolly is good for, right? serving daddy?”

“daddy! daddydaddyfuck..! gonna cum-“

“ah, what do we say, pretty girl?”

“can- can i cum? please? ahn..gonna cum so good - ah! on your fingers, daddy…”

“such a smart girl. go ahead and cum, pup. daddy’s got you, hm?”

it only takes those words for the harsh orgasm you were holding back to burst free, soaking chan’s abs and hands. you pathetically wail as he continues the abuse your pussy, fucking you through your wet little orgasm, but you feel so safe. you know chan’ll always hold you safe and tiny in his arms in such a vulnerable headspace.

when you finally start to come down, he strokes your tummy, up to your cute breasts, and finally to your cheeks, where he plants a soft kiss to remind you he loves you.

chan stands up and wipes his mouth. you notice how he’s still completely dressed and you’re only in your slutty thigh highs. it’s a hot situation, but it won’t do for now.

you slide your foot along his belt buckle, pulling and tugging at while whining at him, wordlessly begging for him to finally fill you up.

“what do you want, pretty girl? tell me and i’ll give it to you.”

you don’t respond, you just blink up at him, going a bit non-verbal and fuzzy already, and it’s worse when chan leans down to grab your face.

“hey. you want daddy to fuck you? want daddy’s cock pressing into your tummy, baby?”

“mhm..”

“then use. your. words.”

chan almost growls in your ear, you feel the texture of denim grinding at your overstimulated clit, he’s frotting his hard cock against your pussy from the fabric, urging you to say what he ordered you to say.

“mm’fuck! chan yes!”

a harsh slap stings your cheek.

“you know my name, stupid slut. is that pretty head just for decoration, or can you actually use it?”

“m’sorry, so sorry..fuck. daddy, please fuck me? please? ill be such a good girl, such a good hole for you please-“

the more you talk the bigger the smile lights up on his face, you’re just the most adorable thing in his eyes.

“aw, who’s my good girl? is it you? fuck..that’s right, angel.”

chan takes your little fuzzy-socked foot in his hand and brings it up from his belt to his face, planting a kiss above your heel.

he places your foot over his shoulder and begins to undo his belt with hypnotizing metal clicks. you’re finally getting what you’ve wanted since you started dating chan.

his belt and pants come undone, and you finally get a view of his big, red cock. it throbs in the air just by looking at the reaction on your face, suddenly he’s a little shy, just like the channie you know. he let’s out a squeaky giggle and avoids your eyes as he pumps his cock lazily.

“you want it, hm? it’s leaking for you and those pretty hips.”

he says now biting his lip and spreading your legs back, trapping you in a mating press. his face rests near your collarbone, whispering filth desperately as far as you can hear it.

“fuck..can’t hold it anymore, need to sink into you..tight fucking pussy- need it squeezing me.”

with that, he’s spreading your folds and forcing his cock in with tiny little thrusts. the stretch is overwelming, but it’s pressing on the front of your g-spot perfectly.

when your pussy is filled all the way, he wastes no time at all continuing his pace with larger and more forceful thrusts inside you, one’s that have you breathlessly screaming.

you really can’t take it, it feels too good you don’t know what to do with yourself. you need him to slow down.

you can’t form sentences right now, so you try planting your hands on his abdomen to brace yourself, but chan swipes them up instantly, gripping your wrists together to use as leverage to pull you back down on his cock.

“fucking take it. stay still, you said you would be good, hm? this pussy’s too little to fit me?”

you’re going braindead you swear, his cock is mind-numbingly thick, it soaks your g-spot, while also being long enough to fuck spots you’re sure no dildo has ever reached before.

chan bounces you like that for a bit before taking one of your legs and lifting it up, holding it against his chest while he rolls his hips in your cunt. he’s lost in it, closing his eyes and placing plush kisses along your sock.

he brings his hand down to thumb at your clit messily, slapping it occasionally to get you there closer. he feels himself faltering in your pussy, groaning louder and leaning his head back at the feeling of you sucking him in.

“fffuck..good fucking girl..gonna make daddy cum? yeah? want me to spill inside this greedy cunt?”

“mn..mhm!”

he hears your meek response. chan places his hand on the side of your head, forcing you to hear him as he brings his face to the crook of your neck.

you don’t like this. you love the feeling of him fucking you more than anything, it makes you feel taken care of and safe, and closer to your boyfriend. but what you really need right now is his cum, and he isn’t cumming fast enough for you.

“gonna cum, yeah? look at what you’re doing to me- ah!”

chan tenses as you pull up his shirt to pinch at his nipples, rolling them in your fingers. his arms shake around you as he writhes, but he isn’t thrusting anymore.

“please..don’t stop, channie..you’re almost there, need your cum..”

he starts thrusting again, fucking you closer with him, the feeling of his cock inside you and your hands on his nipples has him throwing his head back, sending electric sparks of pleasure to his cock.

“mm’fuck can’t take it- oh fuck, cumming!”

you feel chan spraying warm cum deep inside your already messy cunt. the feeling of his warmth flooding inside you is what sends you over with him, his twitching cock still prodding at your g-spot desperately.

your orgasm is strong, you close your legs shut while cumming shakily around his cock till he softly pulls it out. you both rest for a second after cumming so hard, but chan’s shy laugh breaks the silence, covering his red face.

“oh my gosh..i cannot believe i just came from that!”

you can’t believe that this is the same man that just called you his whore unprovoked. you pull him down to lay on you, resting your face in his shoulder and wrapping your legs around him. chan instantly relaxes in your arms.

“…all warmed up now?”

“mhm..chan?”

“anything, sweet girl.”

“i love you. love you so much..thank you for doing this. i know taking care of me can be alot and-“

“ah, ah. i told you to stop saying that. never. it’s never a burden to make you happy. thank you for trusting me to give you what you need. i loved you then, i love you now, and ill love you forever. if you forget, then ill always be here to remind you, ill say it over and over again each time.”

his soft, lovely words paired with your exhaustion seems to be the perfect recipe for you to fall asleep in his arms. chan just hums and strokes your hair, he loves his girl.

“goodnight, sweet girl. ill be right here when you wake up too.”

tags!!

@estella-novella @thatonedarkskinnedsiren @theresstardustinmyblood @annafeebou @pancake-freckle @elizalabs3 @minniesverse @loxgirl2004 @mintymintmint251 @y-ur--i

#skz smut #18+ mdni #skz x reader #bangchan x reader #bangchan smut #kinkmas #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #chan x reader #chan smut

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lucky-clover-gazette · 2 days ago

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tbh i think volo would have been significantly more normal and fine if he hadn’t been hiding so much of his true feelings and personality. like when you deny yourself genuine human connection to that degree you’re probably going to come off as a machiavellian monster who wants to make the world and the lives of others worse, but looking at his actual stated motivations and intentions it’s clear to me at least that the guy is deeply empathetic and idealistic and more than anything disappointed that the world can’t be better

#volo #pla #i don’t even think the game wants you to think he’s That Bad #given the way laventon discusses him talking about the pokédex and peacefully/awkwardly leaving #the way his eyes go all weird makes me think they were going for almost a jekyll and hyde psychotic break thing #but people kinda projected another kind of villain trope onto him—the calculating immoral sociopath—and that’s the common interpretation #it’s like the opposite of when people look at villains who are meant to be completely terrible and find redeemable things about them #insisting that the writers wanted people to see those things as well #i might be doing that myself but just looking at the text and themes of the game it seems to me that you’re supposed to feel bad for him #rather than like violently hate him #even just with the way the player looks at him when he walks away #and that’s not even getting into shit that happens in pokemas #like sorry man volo unintentionally and incidentally prompting arceus to separate the train guys does not make him evil #that was arceus…#same with the player character although i think volo would have had more of a reason to tell them what’s going on #ingo was accepted in hisui #they weren’t #anyway sorry i just wanted to add my take to the many floating around #maybe im wrong or you disagree! that’s fine #but yeah

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notlongtolove · 3 days ago

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the fox and her hound

“a fox?” he repeated, and you nodded. “a vixen.” spencer doesn’t understand why you call yourself a fox, not really. so you show him. not all at once, but in pieces, small glimpses of your world that you let him catch—if he can keep up.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: fluff with a pinch of angst

content: a love story told through the allegory of a fox and a hound, mentions of metaphorical wounds

word count: 2k

note: no linked poem bc idk just thought of this and wanted to write it. mayhaps im taking this nature trope a tad too far lol but anyways i will probably come back to edit this.

a line: They don’t see it, do they? The way the fox rolls in the field when she thinks no one’s looking, laughing under her breath as she goes.

On your first date with Spencer, you’d asked him what animal he’d be. He had paused, tilting his head just slightly. He’s never understood why people ask questions like these. What animal? What color? What season? Animals are animals, colors are colors. It would be impossible to pick one to embody his entire being. Such separate realms of nature, totally different worlds, he thinks.

But you’re sitting across from him, head tilted, eyes glinting under dim light. Pretty. So pretty. He doesn’t want to disappoint you, doesn’t want you to think he’s boring or stiff or unfun. He wants to answer correctly, even though he knows there’s no “correct” answer to this.

“Maybe a golden retriever,” he said, trying to keep casual, “or a beagle. Something friendly.”

Something safe, he thinks. Something pretty girls statistically like.

You had smiled then, slow and soft, lifting the glass of whiskey to your lips, you said with all the certainty in the world:

“I’m a fox.”

“A fox?” he repeated, and you nodded.

“A vixen.”

You didn’t explain it, just swirled your glass like you were swirling the word on your tongue. You loved the taste of it, loved the way it warmed your chest on the way down. Foxes are well-adapted to stay warm. Their thick winter coats, their long, bushy tails. They don’t need anyone to hold them when the frost bites or when the wind howls through the trees.

Spencer doesn’t understand why you call yourself a fox, not really. The dog stays close to the house. He doesn’t stray far, never been anywhere else. He doesn’t know. So you show him. Not all at once, but in pieces, small glimpses of your world that you let him catch—if he can keep up. The forest is dense, you see, the paths are winding and uneven. The shrubbery is thick, sharp branches clawing at the skin. There are logs in the way and the dog stumbles over them sometimes. You wonder if he’s getting tired, if your hidden path is too hard for him to navigate. If the spiders that weave their webs in his face and the fire ants that bite at his ankles are too painful to endure.

So, sometimes, you stop. You sit together on the forest floor, catching your breath. You wag your tails lazily and just talk.

“You know I’d never do anything to hurt you, right?” he asks one evening.

The fox doesn’t answer right away. Her ears twitch, and her eyes flicker toward the trees.

“I don’t like the word never,” she says finally, “It feels like an impossible standard.”

The dog thinks about this, his brow furrowing. “Okay,” he says after a moment. “I don’t ever want to hurt you.”

“I know,” she replies, her voice soft.

But the fox knows her way through the forest. She knows every twist and turn, every trap hidden beneath the leaves. You tell the dog he’d never catch up, sometimes hiding, sometimes running faster—just to see if he’ll try. Spencer doesn’t tell you how he sees that every time you disappear into the trees, you always turn back. Always looking over your shoulder, always checking to see if he’s still behind you.

Eventually, you reach your den. Your fur coat is scratched and bruised from the branches and the logs, the forest leaving its marks on you like it always does. But you’re here. He’s here.

Silently, you wonder how many more times you’ll have to make this journey. You don’t think you can endure another. But you don’t say it.

Instead, you take him inside.

Your den is small, cobbled together from dirt and leaves, from twigs and scraps you’ve gathered over the years. You show him your dirt mantle, how you’d packed it tight with earth and how you’d lined with relics of your life. You show him the first flower you ever found, or what’s left of it—a brittle stem, its petals long gone. You tell him the story of the hound who crushed it.

There’s a feather on the wall, light and fragile, from the first bird you ever caught. You smile as you tell him the story of the chase, how fun it had been to run and run with your foxes until the world blurred around you. Until you were the only one left. In the corner, something glints: A metal buckle, tarnished but unmistakable. From the shoe of the first hunter who’d ever caught you.

You trace your fur with your fingers, telling Spencer your adventures and stories of the traps and the teeth, of the hunters who came with rifles and ropes. The dog sits, listening, understanding. You show him how the edges of your den are marked, too. The walls are carved with notches—five, ten, fifteen. Each one a hunter or hound you’d escaped from. You’re proud, you say, even as you run your hand over the rough lines. They’re proof you survived, that you’ve outwitted them time and time again. Not unwounded, not unbroken, but alive.

You tell him you’re very proud of yourself.

The dog tilts his head, watching you carefully. He sees the way your voice falters when you recount the stories of cages and leashes, how your tail twitches when you mention the hunters. Spencer thinks the fox is lying.

So, the dog tries to teach the fox his ways.

He clears out your mantle first. He takes down the brittle flower stem, the feather, the tarnished buckle. Then, he takes your paw and shows you how to sniff out the bright pretty toadstools, the ones that make the forest less dark. He shows you the rain puddles, not just for drinking, but for jumping in, for splashing until your laughter scares off the birds.

Together, you fill your den with new relics. Ticket stubs from the village fair, postcards you write but never send, laughter tucked away in secret corners. Kisses, soft and warm, planted like seeds that grow slowly into something that feels like home.

Spencer rubs off the old notches on your walls with the pads of his paws, the dust of their memory falling to the floor. In their place, you make new marks. Not notches, but drawings. A fox curled in the safety of her den. A dog lying beside her, his muzzle resting on his paws.

Night after night, you curl up beneath your mantle, snouts touching, tails tucked beneath you.

And then winter comes. Now, your walls feel too big for just a lone fox.

You see, the dog always listens to his master. He sits, he fetches, he stays. But always under command, always under the whistle’s call. And when his master calls, he has to go. Tail wagging or tucked low, he goes.

“You’re hardly ever here anymore,” your voice cuts sharper than you meant it to.

“Can we please not do this now,” he says almost pleadingly, his jaw tight.

For the first time, in the quiet of your den, the fox feels the cold.

The dog goes. The fox doesn’t follow. She can’t. She doesn’t belong where the dog goes—to places of shiny badges and polished shoes, of clean, carpeted floors and voices that echo off tall, glass walls. So she waits in her den, her fur bristling against the chill, her paws worn from pacing the same patch of dirt.

You try to remind yourself of who you are. A fox, sly, swift, clever. A fox, who doesn’t need to wait for anyone.

But still, when the forest quiets, you glance toward the trees. You press your ear to the ground, hoping to catch the faintest echo of his steps, the rustle of leaves under his paws. The fox runs her fingers over the edges of the drawings, tracing the uneven lines, patching the spaces in her den where the light and the wind get in with twigs and leaves. She roams the fields, trying to race the clouds again. But she doesn’t think she runs quite as fast without Spencer beside her. She chases her tail like he taught her, spinning in quick circles, but it’s not as fun when she’s alone. She doesn’t try to catch the birds anymore. It doesn’t feel the same.

When Spencer comes back, his coat bruised and worn from his time away, the fox licks his wounds. The scrapes and the scratches, soft and slow, patching his paws with the leaves she’s saved. He carries something in his teeth—a token, a peace offering, a sign that he thought of you while he was away.

A flower.

He’d found it near the river, petals still dewy, fragile and bright. He hopes you like it. You do.

You take it from him with careful paws, eyes tracing its delicate form before placing it on your mantle, next to the postcards and ticket stubs, next to the daffodils, peonies, dahlias, irises and all the other flowers he’s found for you over time. You think back to the brittle and dead stem you once kept and wonder if there’s any way to hold onto something that beautiful forever.

Because sometimes even beautiful flowers die.

And when it comes to fight or flight, the fox always runs. They say it’s in her blood, in her very nature to flee. So she bolts. She runs away from the den, away from the mantle and the flowers he’d collected. The fox doesn’t know if she can find flowers quite as beautiful as the ones Spencer has given her.

You don’t need the flowers, you tell yourself. You’ll find a new den, find new birds to catch, rebuild your mantle from scratch, carve new notches in your walls once more. You always do.

But the hound finds you. Bred for hunting. Tracking. Scenting. For knowing where to look and how to catch. Bred for the hunt, he always finds you. Your crouched back, tail down, ready to pounce or bolt if you have to. Every instinct telling you to run, to vanish into the underbrush before he can catch you.

“Open the door,” a voice calls, low and insistent.

The fox is curled in the corner of this den. It doesn’t hold the warmth of the last.

“I know you’re home.”

She shuts her eyes and digs deeper into the wall.

“Open the door,” he says, voice softening, pleading. "Please."

The fox exhales, and with a shudder that shakes through her, she reaches out and opens the door. She misses her flowers.

It’s not the chase you expect. No barking, no growling. You bare your teeth. But he doesn’t move. Doesn’t even flinch.

“What do you want?” she asks, claws sharp.

“I want to talk.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“Then I’ll stay here until you do.”

And so the fox and the dog sit. They wait and wait then talk and talk. By the time the first rays of the sun creep above the treetops, the fox is laughing again. It’s a sound that is warm and bright, something that makes Spencer’s heart feel a little fuller, a little lighter. He thinks he understands now.

They don’t see it, do they? The way the fox rolls in the field when she thinks no one’s looking, laughing under her breath as she goes. The way she finds the sunniest patch to lay in and closes her eyes, tail swishing in contentment. They only see the scars and the snarls. They don’t ever see the joy.

“Why don’t you trust me?” he asks, his voice gentle but steady, the kind of tone that makes it clear he already knows the answer.

“I do,” you say quickly, instinctively.

He doesn’t push. He waits.

“I know you don’t,” he says finally, not accusing, just truthful.

You look away, fidgeting with your tail between your legs. “I’m trying,” you whisper.

“I know,” he says again, softer this time, his tail brushing lightly against your side.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: you’re here that’s the thing by beabadoobee tsunami by niki

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x bau!reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader angst #spencer reid x reader comfort

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dollyhao · 2 days ago

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princess!reader who has a close relationship with her personal knight abby anderson (smut, pining, tension, making out, cunnilingus)

word count: 2.4k

two years ago, your father decided that a woman guard would be whats best for you and it was the best decision he could have made. ser abigail anderson follows you everywhere, everywhere you go, she's only a step behind you, watching over you like a hawk. but there are some people in the castle that have some concerns, like how she stands so close to you, how her hand lingers on your lower back, or how she insists that she can protect you better at night from inside your bedroom.

but your father is quick to deny any concerns or accusations that people come to him with. who are they to accuse you of such a sinful act? what’s a better way to stop these insane rumors? an arranged marriage.

your father, the king, decides to bombard you with a bunch of men in the throne room, ready to take your hand in marriage. abby stands behind you as men walk up to you telling you how beautiful you are, and how these men would spoil you and give you so so many babies. abby is not only unimpressed but she’s disgusted. she looks over at your father who’s nodding approvingly at the men.

you look annoyed, finally saying, “that’s enough for today.” you say after the 7th man, you stand bowing towards your father before saying, “thank you father. this has been very insightful.” and you storm off. abby follows you to your room and as soon as you two enter, you're on her.

you push her against the door, standing on your tippy toes to kiss her deeply before she pulls away. “wait,” she says as you fumble with her stupid armor trying to get it off. “what’s wrong?” you ask still fumbling with the armor. “you don’t wanna talk about the whole marriage thing?” she asks you, helping you take off her armor. “no not really.” you say kissing her neck.

“well i do.” she says pushing you away gently. abby takes off her armor by herself, watching as you walk over to your bed and flopping down on it. “what is there to talk about? i’m not getting married.” abby sighs and rubs her fingers over her forehead, “we both know you don’t have a say in that.” abby stands in front of you in her tight trousers and long sleeve shirt that’s tight around her biceps. “so what do you want me to do abs?” you look truly sad at both of your predicaments, "what if- what if we ran away together?"

abby eyes shoot to yours, looking to see if your serious or not, “are you serious?” she leans a hand on the post at the end of your bed, “yes, im serious. how could i possibly get married to someone that's not you?” abby looks away from you, not even entertaining the idea, “princess...” she trails off and you stand walking over and grabbing her face so she can see the sincerity in your face. “we could be happy together, just the two of us.” you push her to sit on the bed while you stand in between her legs, "we could change our names, live on a farm, adopt some children, we could be together!"

"that's too risky, 'the princess and her knight going missing', people will be looking for us." your face goes sad and your eyes misty, "just think about it please... it doesn't have to be now, ok?" abby nods with a soft, sad smile on her face.

abby never expected to be placed as your personal guard when she signed up for the kingsguard and she definitely never expected to fall for you. when she was first assigned to you she was disappointed because how exciting could following a princess around be? and she was right, the job was unexciting. just following a princess—with no understanding of the outside word— around her large castle. thats all she seen for a while until you started to talk to her, rambling on and on about whatever came to your mind even when she wouldn't respond to you.

you were kind, funny and way smarter than anyone in the castle gave you credit for. when she finally started to respond to you, you asked her all types of questions about her life and you actually listened; interested in the stories she told you. and she found herself dreaming about you at night, imagining how life would be if you were hers.

it didn’t take long before you started laughing at her jokes and openly flirting with her; telling her how pretty she was, asking if she had a husband... or wife, trying to have her hang out in your quarters. she thought you were playing at first, that you were bored and lonely, and she didn't find it funny at all.

it was mean to play with her emotions like that, to have her believe that you of all people; beautiful, caring, sweet, darling you would be interested in her. so she put walls up between you two; she started walking behind you, not responding to your ramblings, not laughing at your silly jokes or the cute faces you make at her and she could see the confusion written all over your face and something her deluded mind perceives as hurt.

this went on for a week until one night while standing outside your door while you got ready for bed she heard crying coming from behind the door. abby turns to knock with a look of concern etched on her face, "princess? is everything alright?" when she gets no answer just sniffles and the sound of something breaking she bursts in completely on alert. when she does a quick look of the room and sees no threat just you in your sleep gown, standing next to a broken vase with tears streaming down your face. she closes the door and approaches you carefully like you're a scared cat that's gonna run any second.

"are you alright?" she asks as she reaches for your hand to pull you away from the glass. "am i alright?! how could i be when your being so mean?" you angrily snatching away from her. "i-i dont know what you mean princess." abby stutters at your sudden and blunt wording. "im sure you don't, ser abigail, you've just been treating me like-like shit for the last couple of days, for no reason!" you storm away from her with abby hot on your heel, "your highness! i-ive just been doing my job!"

"why wont you talk to me anymore?! have i offended you so badly you choose to act like im just some job? after all the progress we were making?" you wrap your arms around yourself, looking away from her, "i thought you liked me." with the moonlight streaming into your dark room, illuminating your figure, abby thinks you are the most beautiful woman she's ever seen. quick to reassure you and to get the hurt look off your pretty face, she quickly tells you, "i do! i like you in a way that is not at all proper for someone of my stature."

your hands fall away from your body and you're in front of her in a few long strides, "abigail, if you like me, i command you to tell me so because my heart can't handle thinking that i have wronged you to the point of hatred." you grab her hands holding them to your chest as you stare at her with wet eyes. "the only one that is wronged here is you, your highness." she says lowly, "im the one who has been having improper thoughts of you. thoughts that you cant possibly reciprocate."

abby doesn't meet your eyes but she sees your hand reach up and cup her face, "oh abby. ive never felt this way about anyone before." you mumble as you start to close the distance between the two of you. and abby closes the space and your lips are pressed to hers and they are softer than she could've imagined in her most vivid dream.

her gloved hands are on your waist as her body backs you up and presses you against your bed post. your noses are bumping against each others as you try to get her closer but her armor is in the way. you let out a frustrated whine and abby is quick to pull it off. she pulls away and your both panting, eyes locked on each other as she pulls her armor off and gloves. you stare at her swollen lips and the fly away hairs coming out of her braid.

when she finally has it off, her lips are back on yours but now you can feel her warm body press against yours. her hands roam your body squeezing and grasping at everything. you moan when her hand squeezes your breast and her thumb presses on your nipple. your hands are untucking her shirt from her pants so that your hands can trail over the hard plain of her stomach. abby shudders at your cold hands and her hips shoot forward bumping into yours and your hips chase hers as they pull back away.

"i wanna see you," abby whispers against your lips, "can i?" her hands settle on the strings holding up your gown, waiting for your confirmation. "yes-" you begin to respond before a knock at your door surprises the both of you and abby shoots away from you.

"ser abigail, are you in there?" said the voice of another knight that abigail knows because he takes on the night shift of standing watch outside of your room, while she rests. you and abigail eyes meet with scared but exhilarated expressions. she shakes her head, putting her finger to her lip and grabbing her stuff to hide it from view when you go answer the door. the knight knocks again and you hurry over fixing your gown and running a hand down your face before opening the door.

you crack the door and stick your head out, "no, ser abigail left only moments ago. she told me she was going to go get you so she could get some rest." the man averts his eyes from your form while your in your sleepwear. "oh. i must have beat her to it."

"yes, how diligent. um can you find a servant to bring me some water? my mouth is very dry." the man nods instantly and goes to find someone. you close the door again and whisper-yell for abby to come to the door. you see her come into the moonlight with her armor back on. "you have to go before he gets back!" abigail nods, placing a hand on the door turning to place a lingering kiss on your lips. you grab the sides of her head holding her against you and her other hand moves to grab at your waist.

"no, we can't! you have to go." you say pulling away only for abby to press a kiss to your cheek. you giggle pushing at her shoulders, "go!" and then she's out the door and rushing to her own quarters. you press your back against your door, breathing heavy while, waiting for the knock of the knight who hands you the water and you place it down before flopping on your bed. you lay remembering the way abby touched you and fall asleep dreaming of her.

and ever since that night, you two have been glued at the hips; secret make out sessions, notes being passed between you two, late night meet ups in your quarters. it was fun for the past year until this whole marriage thing. now your relationship is at risk and you want to risk running away together.

a week later, abigail follows you to the library in the far corner of the castle, where no one goes. once you enter the empty room your talking with a look of determination on your face. "i have it all planned out abs." you pull out papers you were hiding in your dress and place them on the table. "we can run away and i dont think my father will make a big deal about it! i mean im the youngest, and he has so many kids it wont be a big deal right? and we'll go far, i mean no one knows what i look like, i almost never leave the castle."

you gaze up at her with bright hopeful eyes. "you really wanna run away together?" you stand up straight, walking to stand in front of her, "yes," you place a kiss on her lips. "your willing to give up all the gowns and jewelry, to live with me on a farm?" she chuckles at the absurdness of it all. you frown at her laughing at you, "yes, if it means we can be together, im willing to give it all up."

abby cups your face with both hands, eyes roaming over your face and she sees all the love you've been giving her written all over it. she crashes her lips against yours, licking and biting at your lips. your breathing gets heavy as abby kisses and bites at your jaw, "abigail..." your hands are in her hair as she nips at your collar bone before getting on her knees.

she looks up at you pulling your dress up as your hands brace against the table behind you. abby's face is flushed as she lifts your leg and licks the juices dripping down your inner thigh to your pussy. you shudder at the feeling of her tongue licking at your cunt. you put one hand on her head as abby slurps at your cunt. "ohmygosh~" you jaw drops as you pant and tremble. "run away with me, run away with me please." you huff out as abby's hands grip your ass, spreading you so she can get deeper.

you moan and whine as abby's hot breath fans over your clenching hole. your hips buck into her face holding her hand thats holding firm on your thigh, "marry me, run away and marry me!" abby speeds up her actions when she feels you ready to explode. you cream on her tongue when you finish before pulling your dress back up over her head.

abby stays on her knees as she catches her breath gazing up at you like you put the moon in the sky. you both stare at each other as you catch your breaths. abby's face breaks out into a wide smile, "lets run away and get married." you beam at her.

and they lived happily ever after. thee end!

#reblogs and comments much appreciated #wlw #lesbian #the last of us #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #i 🫶🏾 abby anderson #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby x reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x black reader #abby anderson x you

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onlinedolly · 3 days ago

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Pllsss hear me out- dad leon with a alt kid, they're socially awkward and don't have any friends- but it's okay, leon can be your friend, he's all you need after all! And his kiddo smokes weed, not being too bothered by it, it helps with your anxiety-

But he can't help but get hard when you smile up at him with hazey red eyes and a big toothy grin! Stuttering and mumbling over your words because your brain is just too fogged up, Your just too cute!

So when you were smoking the next time he saw you, you were watching a movie and he asks to join you, sitting behind you on the bed, only starting with a hand rubbing on your back as you both watch the movie- but every hit you take leon gets more and more touchy until eventually he pounding into you, holding your face into your bed until your both crying, you from overstimulation, and leon crying that he's sorry, he'll make it up to you, he always does! (*￣∇￣*)

ohhhhh anonnie i’m wet LOL!!!!

cw warning: drug use, incest, dd:dne, rough sex, noncon, loser perverted leon, rough leon

“feelin good, hm?” leon would ask as he climbs into your bed, stroking your hair as some movie, he doesn’t really care that much about, plays in the background. leon had always been a lax dad, you were a decent enough kid and you didn’t have many friends, meaning you didn’t go out much (which he was thrilled by), so you found yourself hanging out with your father more then anything.

yes, he was a cop and yes you smoked weed but he wasn’t going to tell, he’d promised when he first found out. if that’s the worst thing you’re doing, how could he really be that mad? besides, it made you so kind to your sweet father.

you nod your head as he runs his fingers through your hair, sinking next to you on the bed. you’re fixated on the movie but all he can do is look at you, he watches as you smoke in your joint, leaning into his touch as he keeps running his fingers through your hair. as you get more hazy and high he moves his hand to rub small circles on your back, moving around a bit as he feels his cock start to stiffen.

why was his cock getting hard? why was he thinking these thoughts? your father thought to himself, he’d noticed you before in your little dresses and pretty makeup, but he always pushed it to the back of his mind. but now? now he couldn’t resist, how would he? not when you were sprawled out on the bed for him, leaning against his touch as he runs circles in your back.

so your dad tests the water first, moving his hang to grip your waist pulling you closer to him, when he notices you don’t shift away from him moves his hang up and down on your hip, that getting your attention.

“what are you doing?” you asked, soft, hazy, n sweet.

“just trust me baby,” leon speaks back just as kindly as he moves his hand to hover over the front of your panties. this was it. the point of no return. how would you react? he thought. would you push him away, call him a pervert? god he kind of was a pervert, a terrible man. a disgusting man who can’t help himself as he ghosts his fingers over clothed cunt. you late out a hazy gasp, but not moving much as he sneaks his fingers into your panties.

“this okay, baby?” he speaks low, running a finger up your cunt teasingly. you shudder and look at him with glossy eyes.

“daddy i…dunno.” you speak earnestly, you talked like you didn’t want it but from how wet he could feel you getting he kept on, spreading your puffy cunt with two fingers.

you sink down into his touch, grabbing his wrist with a limp hold, “daddy this….” you gasp a bit as he rubs past your clit, “…this ain’t right.”

“i know babygirl, im so sorry.” leon speaks as he places a kiss to the top of your head, rubbing soft circles into your fat clit. he felt terrible about it, touching you like this, he was your fucking father and now he’s nothing more then just a perverted man touching his daughter. “daddy’s so sorry.”

the circling around you clit speeds up as he watches you let out soft moans underneath him, twitching. he replaced his fingers with his thumb on your clit we he tries to insert a singular finger in you. you gasp at the pain and he practically moans at how tight it is. once inside he gives you a second to adjust before thrusting his finger in and out of you listening to how your whines turn into deep moans.

“d-daddy—“ your broken voice calls out as he picks up the pace, “we should stop.” you plead, but leon sees right through your facade as you wiggle around in his touch moaning softly.

“i know baby, i know. daddy’s so sorry, daddy’ll getcha whatever you want after, okay? just—“ he picks up the pace, rubbing your clit hard as he fucks you with his fingers, “let daddy do this okay?”

you’re about to cum, you can feel the coil of heat inside you and it’s about to snap. when you do cum, it’s hard and you’re bucking against your fathers fingers. the sight alone could make leon cream himself, but he’s not done. no, not yet.

he gives you time to adjust from your orgasm before he’s pushing you into the bed, face in the pillow and ass propped up as you’re on all fours. he’s fumbling around anxiously now, anxious to feel your tight cunt suck in his cock, as he unbuckles his belt and hurriedly pulls down his jeans. you’re in nothing but a pretty nightgown and black lacy panties making you the easiest of access.

once leon has his cock out he strokes it, letting out a deep guttural groan at the sight of you. and then he’s pulling down your panties and you panic, sobering up the tiniest bit as you try to raise up, to no avail since leon has you pinned to the bed.

“daddy this really isn’t okay—“ he slaps your ass, sending your body forward and you whine out loudly.

“sorry daddy hit you baby, daddy’s so so sorry,” he leans his head back in ecstasy before hes lining himself up with you, pushing himself into your tight cunt. “just let daddy do this, please baby.” and god you feel like heaven. tighter then he thought and so wet and hot. it’s almost impossible to work himself into you as you cry and whimper and clench around him. but oh, does leon love a challenge. so he thrusts harder as he finally gets himself fully inside of you.

“daddy!” you yelp, sobbing into the pillow as your clit pulses at the delicious feeling of him ripping you open. and then he starts, a brutal pace, a downright mean pace. especially for fucking his daughter who he knew was a pretty little virgin. but he couldn’t help it, you felt so good when you clenched in pain around his cock as he thrust into you with such force it made your head bang against the head board.

he had your hair a ball in his fist as he pushed your face into the pillow, muffling your screams and soft moans as he tears you from the inside out. your cunt is dripping all over his cock, the bed, as you let out little pleads asking him to stop but he just can’t.

he brings his free hand to your nipples under your shirt, squeezing them harshly as he collapses his body on top of yours, biting roughly into your shoulder, “jesus fuck baby, feel so so good. daddy’s so sorry he can’t stop, your just—“ thrust “so fucking—” thrust “—tight” thrust. you’re a mess at this point, sobbing and drooling into the pillow as he continues his brutal pace.

once leon finally comes, it’s a lot, hot and it fills you so full you think your going to pass out. his hips stutter as he jerks against your body, cumming and growling loudly in your ear. you’re a mess of tears and snot as he pulls out of you, his soft demeanor returning as he places a kiss to the back of your head. “daddy’s so sorry baby, getcha whatever you want to make it right, please forgive me?” he’s tearful now, stroking the back of your head as you lay there limp and out of it. leon was a perverted terrible man.

#leon kennedy #tw.dark content #resident evil #ೃ mars writes !#tw.incest #— mars answers <3 #dead dove do not eat #dd:dne #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut

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thepowerofswayze · 1 day ago

Text

not jealous

pairing: fiyero tigelaar (wicked, 2024) / reader [gender not specified]

word count: 637

warnings & info: nothing, some jealousy but it's light

summary: Fiyero Tigelaar does not get jealous- until now.

note: this is bad im easing back into writing. ITS ONLY UP FROM HERE

☆

Fireyo’s face was beginning to ache. More specifically, his forehead, right between his firmly furrowed brows.

He’d been standing in the middle of a group of his classmates, pretending he wasn’t scowling, since you’d disappeared with some guy from Munchkin Country. Sure, you’d given him a sweet, apologetic smile with your hand on his shoulder, and yes, you were only a few feet away on the dancefloor, surrounded by a number of classmates, but still. Your Munchkin Country friend was standing awfully close to you. And why couldn’t he keep his hands to himself? Surely you noticed how often he squeezed your arm or brushed against you or, even worse, took your hand to lead you off deeper into the crowd.

As your closest friend, Fiyero knew you were perfectly capable of walking yourself. You didn’t need anyones help. That was his problem with the guy, really.

He couldn’t take his mind off of it, until you made your way over to him, waving wildly to get his attention. The sight of your grinning face eased some of the tension from his shoulders, though the realization that your friend was close behind irked him once more. Still, he did his best to put on a brave face, whipping out a charming smile that he hoped met his eyes.

You placed your hand on Fiyero’s arm as you introduced him to your friend, your fingers curling around the prince’s bicep- the touch was casual, but he found it hard to remember any names. The contact was all he could think about.

It didn’t matter- the conversation was quite short lived. Try as he might, Fiyero didn’t actually want to know anything about this guy. In fact, he wanted him to politely bow out so the two of you could… Oz, what did he even want? To talk to you? Well, yes, he always wanted to talk to you.

Luckily, your friend got the hint thinly veiled by Fiyero’s curt niceties and finally left, giving your hand a squeeze that Fiyero found completely unnecessary.

“What’s the matter with you?”

The soft concern in your voice startled him a bit. Fiyero turned to look at you, at your wrinkled brow and the slight downturn of your mouth. He resisted the urge to touch your face. “Nothing,” he replied, shaking his head. He glanced back over at the retreating figure of your classmate. “He’s friendly, hm?”

At your lack of reply, he turned his gaze back on you- he didn’t expect the wide grin on your face.

“Fiyero Tigelaar,” you said.

Fiyero blinked. “What? Did I get it wrong?”

You shook your head at him, expression almost mystified. “Don’t tell me you're jealous.”

“Jealous?” Fiyero let out a huff, smiling like this was hilarious. “I am not jealous. There’s no cause for jealousy here.”

You said nothing, opting to grin at him and lean in almost conspiratorially, like you were waiting for him to come clean. His calm deteriorated. “I mean,” he began, “well- not that you’re not- you are worth getting jealous over, clearly, I simply am not because I- well, we aren’t even yet- i mean simply aren’t-” Fiyero shut his mouth. What was wrong with him? “It’s quite warm in here.”

“Mhm,” you responded. Your teasing tone made his ears burn- he prayed to Oz that the dim lighting would stop you from seeing how bright red they must have become. “Okay, 'not jealous', don’t think too hard. ” You took a finger and tapped on the middle of his forehead. “Besides, I like you much better.”

“Well- I know,” Fiyero pouted. Then he paused. “Wait, you do?”

You hummed again with a sly shrug, slipping your hand into his. Fiyero felt his cheeks burst into flame as he let you lead him onto the dancefloor.

#fiyero idk how to write you yet just hold on #fiyero x reader #fiyero tigelaar #wicked

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pleasantlycrazyworld · 1 day ago

Note

im clawing at the bars of my inclosure for wolverine headcanons please please go crazy do whatever you want cause i am consuming content at the rate of a black hole and i love ur stuff but if you are in need of some guidance or ideas how about non sexual intimacy cause i go crazy(er) for that

This can be about any Logan really, and it should be gender neutral <3 I hope you like it!

As always request are open for both Logan and Bucky Barnes

Ways Logan shows love:

He is very much an acts of service type of guy

Words are hard for him sometimes, but doing things for people he cares about is a breeze

He does things that are so simple but really show that he loves you. Things like pumping your gas for you or driving you around. People drive crazy and you shouldn't have to risk your life to just get to the grocery it's no trouble at all for him to take you

Honestly, it's no trouble for him to do anything for you

Omg and he is skilled in many things! I mean he's lived many different lives and has tried many different hobbies and trades so he can do almost anything for you

You need a new bookshelf? He'll build you one from scratch

You're so busy you don't have time to make dinner? He'll bring you your favorite food in exchange of your books and laptop, you need a break anyways

Your water heater broke? Well obviously, he can fix it why waste the money on a plumber!?

He does begin to enjoy physical touch if that is one of your love languages. It doesn't have to be intimate, and honestly, after a while, intimate touch isn't what he seeks out. He enjoys knowing you're near. If you're near him, then you're safe

In the beginning he would flinch when you tried to cuddle, then after a few months he would wait for you to initiate the cuddle session that he grew fond of but after around six months of being together he starts to get more comfortable with asking for cuddles

Forehead kisses are his favorite. So are the kisses he leaves on the very top of your head

He was so used to changing himself to become whatever the people around him needed him to be, but with you, he figured out quickly that you just loved him. You loved Logan, not the Wolverine. After he figured this out, he started to allow himself to let walls down, to let you in, and he never regretted that decision

He would let you practice your hobbies on him. You wanted to practice a new type of eyeshadow look? He can sit still for you, no problem. You want to try a new recipe? He'll try whatever you make him happily

If you had a presentation at work or for a class, he would sit and listen to you go through it for hours until you felt prepared

Following that idea, he would listen to you talk about anything for hours. He loves hearing the gossip you've collected and if you need to rant, he will listen and tell you that you were right (even if you were so clearly wrong) because you do no wrong in his eyes

He praises you constantly! Like I said, you do no wrong. To him, you are an angel, and he truly believes that you can accomplish absolutely anything in your life

Overall, he just wants to make your life easier. You make him so happy, and you've become such a light in his life. Doing things for you is the least he could do

Tagging:

@userchai

@mahi-tamashi

@100percentlazybonez

@lanassmarty

@western-pyro

@misscrissfemmefatale

@marit332

@navs-bhat

@fluffy-b33z

@chaimshelii

@aoi-targaryen

@eyes-ofhell

@sad0ni0n

@fries11

@slowlikehoneyyy

@brisinggamenwearer

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icarusredwings · 3 days ago

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Thinking about married poolverine at the x mansion for the Christmas parties.

I like to think that even after he's quit drinking and is older, Wade lets him sit around the mansion and drink a shit ton of egg nog and just.. chill. Wade won't let anyone ask him to do anything except.. what he didn't know.. is that he signed logan up to be santa for the younger kids, and he's definitely dressed as Mrs. Clause, a wig, heels, red and white fluffy skirt, everything.

"You want me to wear what??"

"Oh, come on its for the kids peanut! Besides... ill repay you later~"

"Wade, these kids are like 12 theyre not gonna-....fine"

By the adult party runs around and the kids under 21 are forced off into their rooms, morph kurt and logan are lounging on the couch trying to sing a german carol after busting out the GOOD Alchool but Kurt forgets half of it so its just the three of them mummbling nonsense and wade thinks its the cutest most humble thing he's ever seen Logan do. Just.. a guy being a guy with his friends. And he's so happy. Soooo happy to finally have them back. Even if these aren't HIS x men, he's missed this so bad. Later he will cry because he misses HIS x men but for now? Let him be not sober and forget about that.

"Alright santa. I think its time for bed." Wade says, still in his Mrs. Clause outfit, trying to tug Logans arm up.

"Aye! Get offa me! My husband will kill you!" He throws a fit and backs away, into kurt who's tail flickers and gives her a dirty look. Who does this woman think she is?? Trying to make his friend commit adultery???

Wade pauses, then giggles, realizing just how much makeup he had on right now. He's utterly estatic that Logan won't come with him. It's only really morph whos confused because that's obviously Wade. You would think the guy could smell his own husband right?? Yeahhh... not like this.

"Teehee and that right there is why it's bedtime, peanut." He says, hoping itll spark a few plugs but logan only does the Loading cat face, tilting his head. His face is red from the alchool and the santa make up.

"Don't call me that!" He whines.

Wade rolls his eyes, smiling. "Baby, come on. You're tired." He says in that special voice. The one that leads Logan down to earth when his anger is the only thing he can see when he forgets who he is, when he's having his PTSD attacks.

"... I am?"

"Yes. Now come on. Time for bed."

Kurt whispers not to be tempted by her in his ear, and it's back to square one. It takes Remy interfereing by telling Kurt that this "devil woman" IS Logan's husband and that it's okay.

The whole thing is a mess, and it has Rouge giggling her ass off, hugging her brother as his tail flickers still.

"Ooh!! You big buzz ball! Always lookin afta folks aint ya?" She tells him, squeezing him enough to make him wheeze. "Careful cher, Gambit thinks he wants his ribs attached."

"Nonsense! A lil roughhousin nevah killed nobody!!"

You just see him trying to take Wade to their room and Logan does the little slap at his arms and is like "I can walk by myself lady! Jeez!! ..... wheres my husband? Im gonna tell on you!!"

"I AM your husband." Wade says, finally taking off the wig and caressing his chop the way he usually does. Logan's eyes squint, his eyebrows burrowing together before dilating, and Wade can swear he heard his heart beat quicken.

Laura gags.

"....'sup" he says, pulling him closer with a big idiotic grin.

Wade squeals, now trying to push him away. "Eww!! Never say that again!" He giggles. "You big lud! Bedtime!"

It's the absolute sweetest thing anyone ever witnessed, and it makes Jean happy too to know someone did infact take the big bad putty tat home. Finally-

This is how I want every teacher au Christmas fic to go you understand me? No sentinal drama. No worries. Maayyybbee Magneto if he behaves.

Just let this man be HAPPY for once.

#teacher au #finding home au #deadpool and wolverine #poolverine #logan howlett #wade wilson #deadpool #wolverine #deadpool 3 #deadclaws #christmas fic #merry christmas #early christmas #laura kinney #rouge #gambit #morph #kurt wagner #jean gray

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lunaritex · 2 days ago

Text

𓏲࣪ ִֶָ ︎ִֶָ THE ETERNAL OFFERING 𖤐. — nishimura riki

(๑>◡<๑) ৎ୭ nishimura riki + fem! reader immortal x immortal trope explicit suggestive content implied mature content 𐙚 warning mentions of reader being a sacrifice in the start religious themes god themes implied romantic relationship fighting . . !? & 10991 — navigation

note. i wanted to write something for riki and then the thought of him being a god came to my mind and that was how this was born... i might have gotten carried away though, whoops! i would like to say that im kinda proud of this so uh yeah. this is for you! @riekiss

The village had been bustling for days with preparations, each corner alive with whispered prayers and hushed conversations. The townsfolk moved with purpose, weaving wreaths of wildflowers, crafting intricate charms, and marking the paths leading out of the village with symbols meant to call for protection. For as long as you could remember, this ritual had been woven into the very fabric of your lives—a grim promise to the gods in exchange for your survival.

The choice of the next offering was as natural as the changing of the seasons. From the moment you were old enough to understand, it had been gently yet unmistakably instilled in you that you were the one. The elders and your family had called it a blessing, stating how you are their savior and how you would be remembered for many years down the road. You, on the other hand, did not think much about it.

Your village has gone through one natural disaster after another. At first, it was raining cats and dogs to the point that your rooftop collapsed, nearly crushing you and your parents who were taking shelter. Followed by the blight, stealing your precious food and water sources, leaving the villagers on the verge of starving to death. Anyone with eyes could tell everyone was reaching their limit and they had to do something, fast. And that was how you came in.

As the sky turned a bruised shade of twilight, the leader of your village, accompanied by a few elders, arrived at your doorstep. Their expressions were somber but resolved. The leader, a man with deep-set wrinkles, nodded in acknowledgment as you opened the door.

“We’re here to remind you, child,” he began, his voice soft but unwavering, “that tomorrow will mark the day-”

“Don’t worry, I won’t run,” you interrupted, knowing the implications behind his words. Your response had an immediate effect on him, judging from how his shoulders sagged with relief and he nodded before leaving, allowing you to close the door.

The night before the offering, your family gathered for what you knew would be your final meal together. None of your parents uttered a single word to you, both were frighteningly calm despite how their one and only daughter would be sent away and never returning. But you have grown used to their silent treatment. In your eyes, they were not your parents but instead, just a couple who had taken it upon themselves to ensure you grow up well enough to fit the role of a sacrifice. Nothing more and nothing less.

The next day, you were dressed in simple, white robes—an offering garb provided by the village elders. It felt surreal, as if you were watching someone else preparing for this cruel fate that was bestowed upon you; an unfortunate victim. You stepped out of your house, turning to see your parents standing by the entrance with unreadable expressions on their faces. As much as you wished to just turn and walk away, you could not.

“...Thank you for everything,” you bowed and left without waiting for their response. Although, your ears picked up the faint sounds of muffled sobbing but you did not bother to turn around.

You continued walking to the main entrance of the village, where the priest and a small group of elders waited. They said little as they guided you along a path toward the mountainside, where legend held that the gods sometimes descended to receive their offerings. Finally, you reached a quiet clearing surrounded by ancient trees, their trunks thick and twisted, casting shadows that seemed to deepen as the sun began to rise.

The air felt thick, almost alive, as if the shadows themselves were watching, waiting. The priest performed a brief ritual, murmuring words that faded into the air. There was only silence when he finished, broken by the faint rustling of leaves and the distant call of a bird.

The shadows in the trees seemed to grow darker, the light around us dimming until the forest was bathed in an unnatural twilight. The air stilled, a deep, suffocating silence settling over everyone. Then, a gust of icy wind swept through, sending chills down your spine. You felt a presence—a weight that pressed down on the space around you, as if the shadows themselves had taken form. Whispers seemed to drift through the darkness, soft and unsettling. Your heart hammered as you scanned the treeline, searching for any sign of movement.

And then, he appeared.

Riki, the God of Shadows, emerged from the dark like a living specter. His figure seemed to dissolve into the surrounding shadows and then coalesce again, each step a silent ripple across the ground. He wore black robes that seemed to move on their own accord, the fabric shifting and swirling around him as though woven from darkness itself. His face was otherworldly—beautiful, yet cold, with eyes like polished obsidian. Those eyes settled on you, sharp and unyielding, his gaze as penetrating as a blade.

Gasps and stifled cries echoed behind you as the villagers took in the sight of him. No one had ever seen the God of Shadows before. Legends spoke of him as a faceless presence, a mysterious deity who commands fear everywhere he goes. But here he was, standing in your midst, as real as the earth beneath your feet. His piercing gaze swept over the trembling villagers for a fleeting moment before settling on you, his eyes holding a strange, unreadable expression.

Your body felt frozen, caught between terror and awe. As he approached, the shadows seemed to bow to him, the darkness shifting and folding around his every step. He stopped just a few centimeters away, studying you with an unreadable expression. His silence stretched, heavy and oppressive, as if he was measuring your every soul.

“You must the offering,” he said, eyes fixated on you and for a brief moment, you wondered if he had the ability to look into your soul.

You struggled to find your voice, but somehow, you managed to nod. "Yes… I am."

His expression softened ever so slightly, though his expression remained unreadable. “Do you understand what this means?”

His question hung in the air, but before you could speak, someone amongst the crowd of villagers had spoken up, interrupting the tense silence.

The elder who had paid you a visit yesterday, stepped forward. “No,” he said, his voice trembling yet determined. “This is not right. You should not be here, Riki.”

His words wavered, but he pressed on, his gaze fierce as he continued. “You are not a god. You are nothing but a shadow, a curse cast upon this world. You are not worthy to be a god.”

Murmurs of uncertainty rippled through the gathered villagers. Some looked on in silent awe at Riki, while others shrank back, afraid but unwilling to show it. Riki’s eyes shifted, his gaze cold and unwavering as he turned his attention to the elder, a sharp, disdainful sneer pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"And what would you know of gods, old man?" Riki’s voice was like the quietest whisper, yet somehow it seemed to resonate over the crowd, filling the air with a foreboding chill. "I have existed longer than your ancestors have drawn breath. You speak of what you do not understand."

The elder, visibly shaking now, stubbornly held his ground, puffing himself up with a courage born of desperation. "You are not welcome here," he insisted, raising a hand as if he could ward off the god of shadows with a single gesture. "I command you to leave."

Before anyone could react, another elder, perhaps emboldened by his comrade’s words, lunged forward, a crude charm in hand. He thrust it toward Riki, chanting something incoherent, his voice trembling with conviction. But before he could close the distance, Riki merely lifted a hand, his expression unfazed and almost bored.

A dark shadow surged from Riki’s fingers, swift and effortless. The elder was caught mid-step, swept off his feet by an invisible force. The charm slipped from his fingers, falling uselessly to the ground as he was thrown back, landing in the dirt with a gasp of pain. The villagers gasped, horror dawning on their faces as they watched the elder struggle to sit up, visibly shaken.

"Any other brave souls?" Riki’s voice dripped with mocking amusement as he scanned the crowd, his sneer deepening. Shadows coiled around him, dark tendrils that seemed to pulse with his heartbeat, amplifying the unsettling power radiating from him. No one dared to move. Whispers rippled through the villagers as they shrank back, clutching each other in fright, eyes wide as they took in the extent of his power.

You stood frozen, caught between terror and awe as you observed the scene unfold itself from head to toe. Riki turned back to you, his expression softening just a fraction, his gaze still intense but tempered with something unreadable.

“Now,” he murmured, his voice only for your ears. “Do you understand the gravity of the situation you are in? The moment you agree, you have to leave your old life behind and you will not return anymore.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words would not come. How could you even explain your choice? The pressure of so many watching eyes, the weight of your village’s expectations… In truth, you had not understood what it truly meant to be an offering until this very moment, standing before a god.

Riki’s eyes flickered, as though picking up on your hesitation. His voice softened, though it held a strange kind of power. “You are not here by accident. You were chosen—whether by fate or by their desperation." He glanced at the huddled villagers, his gaze unreadable. "But what you offer is not mere obedience. To stay by my side is a choice that you, and only you, can make. Are you ready to accept that?"

As you looked at the villagers, you saw no sign of your parents. You remembered how the villagers had treated you and that was when you made up your mind: you will leave this life behind and start a new life, this time with Riki by your side.

“I will accept that,” you said, your voice a whisper meant for him only, “but on one condition.”

Riki arched an eyebrow. “And what would that condition be? Tell me, and I will make it come true.”

“Let them die,” you said, voice unwavering. “Let the village fall. I am no longer tied to them. If I am to be your offering, then they deserve nothing from you. Not your protection, nor your mercy.”

Riki’s expression shifted, a glimmer of surprise in his gaze, followed by an intrigue that darkened the depths of his eyes. He regarded you in silence, his lips curving into a faint smile that carried both admiration and something darker—a recognition of your resolve.

“You would see them perish?” he murmured, studying you with a newfound intensity. “The very same people who raised you, who sheltered you? You wish to abandon them to their fate?”

You nodded, your voice growing steadier with every word. “They have abandoned me first. If they are so willing to sacrifice me to save themselves, then let them face the consequences of their choice. They should no longer be your concern… nor mine.”

A flicker of satisfaction flashed in Riki's eyes, as if he found something in your words that pleased him. His shadows pulsed, swirling like a storm gathering in the depths of his power. He steps closer and closer, only stopping until you are within distance. You fought the urge to flinch when he reached out a hand to caress your cheek with such gentleness that you would have assumed you were lovers. To your surprise, his palm was not cold but instead, it was warm. Warm like a regular mortal’s palm.

“Very well,” he said, his voice a low, velvety whisper that sent a chill down your spine. “Consider your condition accepted.” He paused, leaning close enough that you could feel the faint, icy touch of his power radiating from him. "You are bound to me now, and I will have no ties to this village. They will be left to face whatever comes without my hand to save them."

A strange sense of relief settled within you, a liberation that was both terrifying and exhilarating. You had severed the final thread that connected you to your past, embracing a future that lay in shadows you had yet to understand. The villagers watched in stunned silence, as if sensing the shift between you, but unable to grasp its meaning. Some tried to call out, murmuring half-hearted words of comfort or farewell, but you did not look back.

With a single gesture, Riki enveloped you in his shadows, his power sweeping over you in a cold, dark embrace. The village, with all its fears and demands, disappeared behind a curtain of darkness. You felt nothing as it vanished from sight—no regret, no sorrow.

The shadows dispersed, revealing a spacious bedroom unlike any place you have ever seen. A wall of ceiling-to-floor windows stretched along one side of the room, offering a breathtaking view of the ocean below, where waves rolled in dark blue and silver under a twilight sky. The horizon stretched endlessly, blending sea and sky in a seamless, misty line.

The room had a refined yet faintly modern touch. The floor was a smooth, polished stone with a subtle shimmer, and a plush, oversized bed was positioned in the center, draped in soft black and charcoal fabrics. Subtle touches of luxury were scattered throughout—a glass vase on the nightstand with a single dark rose, polished wooden panels along the walls, and a sleek, minimal chandelier that hung above, casting a warm, muted glow over the space. The ceiling was high, while rich, heavy curtains hung beside the window panels, ready to enclose the room in complete privacy when drawn.

Through a set of glass doors, a balcony beckoned, offering an unobstructed view of the vast ocean below. The air was crisp, carrying a hint of salt and mystery, as if this place existed on the very edge of the world. You took a step forward, unable to hide your awe at the majestic space. Turning, you found Riki standing beside you, watching you intently. His gaze held an expectant glimmer, and you noticed him fidgeting slightly, shifting from foot to foot.

He seemed almost…nervous, an unusual expression for someone who commanded such fear and awe from others. It was almost as if he was waiting for you to say something—anything—that would affirm your approval. For a moment, he looked less like a god and more like a young boy eager for praise, his shoulders tensing, fingers brushing against each other absently. He glanced at the room, then back at you, a flicker of insecurity passing over his face.

“What do you think?” he asked, his voice soft but carrying a faint, hopeful note. It was a huge contrast to his intimidating demeanor earlier, but it puts you at ease—knowing that he trusts you enough to show another side of him.

You took a slow breath, allowing a small smile to creep onto your face as you met his gaze. “I think you did a wonderful job.”

Your praise seemed to have an immediate effect on him. His expression softened, relief and a hint of satisfaction crossing his face. The shadows around him settled down, as though your approval had brought him a sense of calm. But curiosity still tugged at you, and you could not hold back the question forming in your mind.

“But why would you do all of this for someone like me?” You asked, voice almost a whisper. “I’m just…a mortal.”

For a moment, the god seemed almost taken aback. Then, a faint smile touched his lips, and his gaze softened, a shadow of something like nostalgia flickered in his eyes. He approached you, closing the distance with every step he took. The shadows around him grew smaller and smaller, until it was only his silhouette being reflected on the floor, making him more humane. He stopped in front of you, maintaining a small distance but he was close enough to make your heart stop beating for a moment.

“You think you’re just a mortal,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with an emotion you could not quite place. His eyes caught the dim light, almost glowing as he continued. “But I have watched you long before you ever knew of my existence. From the moment you were born, I’ve been there… drawn to you in ways I couldn’t explain.”

You looked at him, startled, and he gave a small, almost bashful smile, as if he, the God of Shadows, was admitting a secret.

“Every year, I would watch you grow, seeing glimpses of your life,” he continued. “Your kindness, your loyalty… even your pain. I’ve seen it all.” His voice softened as he looked down for a brief moment, as if remembering the countless moments he had witnessed.

“And as you grew,” he went on, “I couldn’t help but feel… connected to you. Bound by something more powerful than time or distance.” He lifted his gaze, and in that moment, his eyes held a warmth that seemed to pierce through the very shadows surrounding him.

"Perhaps that’s why I’ve prepared all this for you,” he finished, his tone barely above a whisper. "You may think you’re merely human, but to me… you have always been someone significant. Someone worth waiting for."

You were speechless as you listened to him. If he was not a god, you would have assumed he was a regular human being, just a simple boy who had finally plucked up his courage to confess. But the mere fact that he was a god, someone who deserves respect and someone who can destroy anything and everything standing in his path, is spilling his heart out to you: a mortal, does wonders to your heart.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you stuttered over your word and Riki chuckled, finding great amusement in your embarrassment.

“You don’t have to say anything. The last thing I want is to pressure you to make the wrong choice,” the smile he gave you does not meet his eyes and for a moment, you felt remorseful for your response but he continued. “How about I give you a tour of the apartment? I’m sure you'll find it to be a lovely and comfortable place to stay in.”

The entire apartment was enveloped in a faintly modern elegance that mirrored the bedroom’s luxurious yet mysterious design, with muted tones, shadowy corners, and fine details that hinted at his taste. It was grand yet inviting, a place built to impress without overwhelming.

You walked beside him as he led you out of the bedroom. Both of you had to walk a short distance to the flight of curved stairs. You almost slipped and would have ungracefully tumbled down the stairs if Riki did not steadied you in the nick of time. You felt your ears flushed red when you felt his large hands rested on the sides of your waist, his fingers nearly touching. Your back rested against his chest, upper body slightly tilted backward.

“You should be more careful, unless you want me to carry you around to prevent you from slipping,” he teased, his hot breath grazing against the back of your neck with every word he spoke. The angle was awkward, considering how he was standing a few steps behind you, making him tower over your figure.

“No thank you, I don’t want to be a bother,” you apologized, straightening yourself as you moved away and continued your descent down the stairs until you reached the first floor.

The living room was stunning. Expansive floor-to-ceiling windows stretched along the far wall, allowing the view of the dark ocean to blend with the room itself. The ocean shimmered faintly under the evening sky, casting a soft, silver glow over the space. A set of deep charcoal couches framed the room, their plush cushions adorned with silken pillows in shades of obsidian and slate. The furniture was both elegant and comfortable, almost inviting you to sink into its embrace.

In the center of the room was a sleek, low glass coffee table, artfully arranged with a few ornate candles and a bowl filled with obsidian stones. Nearby, a minimalist fireplace embedded within the wall flickered with a cold, bluish flame, casting an ethereal glow that filled the room with a soft warmth.

Bookshelves lined one side of the living room, filled with volumes bound in leather and delicate metalwork. A series of framed, abstract paintings in muted grays and blues adorned the walls, blending seamlessly with the room’s monochromatic theme. Elegant, unobtrusive lighting was scattered strategically across the ceiling, casting a soft, almost magical glow that danced along the floor and highlighted the darker elements of the decoration.

Riki glanced over his shoulder as you took it all in, his eyes glimmering with a quiet, almost bashful pride. He waited for you to take in the details, his posture relaxed yet attentive, as though he was searching your face for any sign of approval or delight.

He gestured subtly to the window, where the balcony beyond opened to the endless expanse of ocean and sky. “This is your view,” he said, his voice barely above a murmur, “as long as you’re here.”

You stepped forward, getting closer to the opened row of windows as you rested your hands on the railings. You took in the jaw-dropping view with awe and amazement written all over your face. Riki stood by your left but you were too entranced by the view to even notice that he was admiring your expression, with a soft smile on his face.

“Why do you make it sound like I have a choice in the first place? I came here on my free will,” you replied in a light-hearted manner, although that was not the implication Riki got. Instead, he looked rather guilty for a moment before he composed himself.

“Do you regret coming here?” He murmured, sounding almost afraid the moment the words left his lips.

You turned to him. “No, I don’t,” you paused, forming your jumbled thoughts into proper sentences. The god was surprised at how easily you answered his question as you continued, “I don’t feel any connection to the people there. To them, I was nothing but merely a disposable pawn, nothing more and nothing less. That’s why I chose to leave my old life behind and start a new life from scratch.”

Riki hums in acknowledgement. “You might not believe me, but I think that’s very brave of you to forgo your past.”

“What’s this? I didn’t expect to hear a god praising a human being,” you teased. Your remark was enough to make him exasperatedly roll his eyes, “but thank you, Riki. That means a lot coming from someone like you,” you continued, your voice filled with sincerity as you thanked him.

He smiled and with the way a gentle gust of wind blew past, causing his hair to fly about combined with the setting sunlight hitting his face in just the right angle, made your breath hitch in your throat. You were momentarily caught off-guard with how attractive he looked, especially with how he had bangs partially shielding his left eye. Realizing you were staring at him in prolonged silence, you awkwardly cleared your throat and tore your eyes away from him.

“W-Well, I think it’ll be best for me to uh, take a shower,” you squeaked out, dashing back into the living room without waiting for his response, leaving the amused god behind.

You spent the next few weeks familiarizing yourself with the apartment, exploring every inch to your heart’s content. Your relationship with Riki was unknown. It was neither romantic or platonic, at least that was what you think. He treats you well and you are living a comfortable and luxurious life, thanks to his status. Being a god has many advantages, and one of them means whatever you wish for, it will appear before your face. All the god had to do was to snap his fingers and be it clothes, food or accessories, it will appear out of thin air.

You knew his title but yet, you could not help but be curious of his other abilities, other than the ones you have seen and heard of, bringing you to your current situation. You were laying on the sofa in the living room, your head resting on the armrest with your right leg propped up as you rested your left leg over your right knee. You were engrossed in reading a book to the point that you were oblivious that Riki had made his appearance.

“What are you reading?”

You visibly flinched, dropping the book and yelped when it landed squarely on your nose. Groaning, you removed the book to see the culprit responsible for scaring you appearing in your sight. He stood near the armrest of the sofa, looking down at you, amused with your reaction. You shot him a glare as you pushed yourself up, placing your bookmark between the two pages you last stopped at.

“Don’t do that again or I might die due to a heart attack,” you scowled, lightly smacking his shoulder.

“That won’t happen, and even if it did, I can merely make it start again,” he shrugged his shoulders. Riki sat on the armrest with one knee resting on the edge. He leans over slightly to get a glimpse of the book cover, only for him to quirk an eyebrow when he recognized the title.

“I didn’t know you’re a romantic at heart,” he commented, silently patting his lap.

You rolled your eyes, adjusting your position so you could rest your head on his lap, as per his request. He preens at your obedience, running his hand through your hair and your eyelids fluttered close at his touch.

“Where were you?” You asked, eyes glancing up to him. You closed your eyes when he poked your forehead.

“I was busy with something, nothing you have to worry about,” he casually replied but you were not pleased with his vague response.

“Tell me, unless you’re hiding something from me,” you accused, narrowing your eyes as you pushed yourself up, turning to face him. He dropped his hand, resting it on his clothed knee and stared at you, the corners of his lips threatening to curl upwards.

You frowned, “Did you went out there killing—”

You were cut off mid-sentence when Riki cupped your face, tilting it up for him to slot your lips together. This was not the first time he had kissed you to silence you and it always works. His lips pressed against yours, firm yet tender and you felt your heart leap in response. The kiss was unhurried, as if he were savoring each moment, each breath. When he finally pulled away, his eyes held a mischievous glint, an unspoken answer lingering in his gaze.

“Some questions,” he murmured, voice low, almost teasing as he drew circles on your cheek, “are better left for another time.”

You blinked up at him, feeling a mix of frustration and curiosity swirling in your chest. You furrowed your eyebrows slightly, the beginnings of a protest forming on your lips as you opened your mouth to speak. But Riki’s expression softened, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. Before you could utter a word, he leaned in again, silencing your unspoken question with another kiss; more intense than the previous kiss. His arms traveled down to wrap around your waist, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours, warm and coaxing, unraveling any resistance you might have.

You could feel your body going pliant in his grip. You rested your hands on his shoulders; a habit you had gained as you parted your lips upon feeling him asking for permission. A breathy whine was ripped from the depths of your throat when his tongue explored your cavern with one, thorough lick. You grabbed a fistful of his abyssal-like hair, roughly tugging it when he teasingly bit down on your lip. Your action elicited a pleased sigh that you eagerly swallowed.

His fingers threaded through your hair, anchoring you as his touch grew a shade more intense, deeper, making your heart race. Riki slid his hand underneath the shirt you wore—his shirt, to be exact, teasingly moving upwards on your spine. His touch leaves goosebumps in its wake and you shudder; the movement making him smile into the kiss. When he finally pulled away, his previously styled hair was now messed up, with some strands stretching out at different angles. His lips curved into a soft, satisfied smile, his gaze holding yours with a silent promise.

“Trust me,” he murmured, his thumb tracing a gentle line along your swollen bottom lip. “The answers will come in time. But not today.”

You huffed, moving your hands down to grab him by the front of his shirt and tugged him forward. Your sudden action caught him off-guard. Riki’s eyes widened momentarily, his hands tightening around your waist. You shot him a teasing grin, looking at him with half-lidded eyes as you leaned in until your lips were brushing against one another.

“If that’s the case, then how about we picked up where we left off?” You cooed, taking note of how the god’s eyes darkened.

“You’re playing a dangerous game here,” he chuckled, easily carrying you in his arms in one fluid movement. Squeaking, you clung onto him for dear life as he led you to where the bedroom was, “but fine by me, I guess it’s my responsibility to indulge in you once in a while.”

You woke up, feeling much refreshed than usual. The thought of the reason made your cheeks flushed red as you squirmed about on the comfortable bed. Your ears picked up the rustling of sheets from behind, only for you to be pulled backward. Your back hit a firm chest and you made no point to turn, not when you knew who it was. Shivers ran down your spine when you felt butterfly kisses planted on the back of your neck.

“Good morning, did you sleep well?” Riki asked, his voice raspy. You remained silent, eyes closed as you pretended you were still sleeping. Although, both of you knew that he could see through your facade. The only form of warning you got was the curl of his lips against your skin before he launched his attack.

“Riki—wait—no!” You managed to squeak out before laughter overtook you.

His fingers moved with relentless intent, tickling you mercilessly. You twisted and turned, trying desperately to escape, but his grip on your waist only tightened, holding you in place.

“Stop! I—can’t—breathe!” You choked out between fits of laughter, swatting at his hands in a futile attempt to fend him off.

His face lit up with a playful grin, a rare boyishness breaking through his usually composed demeanor. “Stop?” he teased, voice lit with mock innocence. “But you look like you’re having fun.”

You glared at him through your laughter, breathless and utterly helpless. Your attempts to wiggle free only seemed to amuse him further, his hold steady as if he were effortlessly taming the chaos he had created.

“Riki, I mean it!” You said through gasps, your voice shaking with laughter as tears pricked the corners of your eyes. “You’re going to—ah—pay for this!”

“Oh?” He smirked, pausing for just a second, his hands still resting on your waist. “And how exactly do you plan to make me pay?” His playful tone and raised brow made it clear he was not the least bit threatened by your empty threat.

You seized the brief moment of reprieve to catch your breath, your heart racing from both the tickling and the laughter. “I—I'll figure it out!” You shot back, squirming away the moment he paused, wanting to create as much distance as you could.

“Good luck with that,” he quipped, deciding to show some mercy.

Riki remained where he was, now sitting up on the bed with the crumpled sheets covering his lap as he observed you getting out of bed. He could not help but snicker when he saw how your legs trembled slightly and how you had to hold onto the nearest surface for support. You shot him a death glare but the god was unfazed. Instead, he sends you an infuriating smirk that makes you have the urge to wipe it off his face.

“Need any help?” He asks, resting his chin on his left fist.

“No thank you, I can handle this by myself,” you retorted, limping your way to the bathroom and pointedly closed the door, shutting out his laughter.

When you finished getting dressed, you went to the living room and were greeted by a familiar face who was engaged in what seemed to be a serious conversation with Riki, judging from the solemn expressions on their faces. You moved to the kitchen, wanting to pour yourself a glass of water when your appearance caught their attention.

“Good morning (Name), did you sleep well?” Jay greeted you, giving you a polite and friendly smile as he waved at you from where he sat.

You returned the smile and wave, “Good morning Jay, and yes I did, thank you. What brings you here? It’s rare to see you dropping by,” you asked after greeting him, entering the living room after pouring two glasses of water; one for yourself and one for him.

Jay accepted the glass with a grateful nod of his head while Riki scoffs. “You didn’t have to do that for him,” he said in a sulky tone, pulling you down so you could sit on his lap, his hand resting on your thigh.

Jay blinks at the sight of the two of you before looking at Riki, who took it upon himself to rest his chin on your shoulder before answering you. “It’s nothing you have to worry about, just the regular stuff about our responsibilities.” He downs the water in one go, leaving the now empty glass on the coffee table and rises to his feet.

“I should get going, I wouldn't want to disrupt your time together,” he said, making your ears turn red.

“You weren’t disrupting,” you protested, but the grip on your thigh tightened at your response. Jay merely smiled, biding the both of you farewell before he left without you seeing him out.

“Now that he’s gone, how about we head out today? I think the weather’s perfect,” Riki asked, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he greedily inhaled your scent.

“Where are we going?” You asked, leaning back against him.

“We can descend to the mortal realm and visit a town if you’re keen. I heard there’s a festival happening today,” he proposed.

Hearing this, you instantly turned and your face lit up with excitement at the mention of the festival. “Then what are we waiting for? We should get going.”

You jumped off his lap, rushing up the stairs to the bedroom to get changed. Riki remained where he was, leaning back with his hands resting on the sofa behind him. He observed your retreating figure with a soft smile on his face, endeared with your behavior. It did not take you long to get dressed, choosing comfort over style and when you were done, you went back down to the living room. The god had changed out of his usual clothes, now cladded in black from head to toe. What piqued your interest however, was a pair of thinly-framed glasses resting on the bridge of his nose.

It was unfair how Riki looks even better when all he did was to wear glasses. He smirks when he sees how you were staring at him, mesmerized by the sight. “As much as I’d like for you to keep looking at me, I think we should go before we’re too late.”

His response brought heat to your cheeks, flustered that you were caught red-handed. You held his outstretched hand as he used his ability to bring you to the town where the festival is taking place. Despite having experienced it a few times, you were still not used to the feeling. It was strange, for it feels like all of your senses were ripped away from you, only for them to abruptly return to you when you arrived at your destination.

The shadows dissipate, revealing a lively town with people everywhere. You took in your surroundings with awe, watching as some stopped to look at the store displays that were set up along a straight path. Overwhelmed with excitement, you wasted no time in dragging Riki along to visit one of the nearest stalls. You stopped by the front and were instantly hit with the fragrance of skewers being roasted by the side. Your mouth waters and you point at the row of sticks.

“Hi, I’d like to get two please,” you requested, and the owner nodded, turning two sticks back and forth before handing it to you. Thanking him, you paid the appropriate money and handed one stick to Riki.

“Here, you should try it,” you said, pushing the stick closer to his face. The god scrunches his nose as he warily eyes the food. He ended up leaning forward to take a small nibble and you observed his reaction. You observed how he slowly chewed, eyebrows furrowed with a thoughtful look on his face that was eventually replaced with genuine surprise. The sight of his expressions changing made you laugh. You playfully elbowed him as he took the stick from your grip.

“It’s good, right?” You asked and he nodded, now taking a huge bite out of it.

“Yes, it’s better than I imagined. You seem awfully excited about coming here. Have you never been to a festival before?” He quirked an eyebrow, gently pulling you along so the both of you could venture down the streets to explore the other stalls.

You shook your head with a sad smile, “No, this is my first time. Ever since I was born and the moment I was told I would be used as an offering, my parents forbid me from stepping out of the house. I was practically locked up and they had stolen my freedom.”

Riki hums, running his thumb along your knuckles. “On the bright side, you have your well-deserved freedom now. That doesn’t sound too bad, does it?”

You laughed, squeezing his hand and you felt him return the gesture in a heartbeat. “Yes, I’m as free as a bird now and it’s all thanks to you.”

The next stall that caught your attention was a stall selling charms. Intrigued, you stopped to admire the displays and it seems like the owner was busy with another customer. Riki stood behind you, watching over your shoulder as you purse your lips, pondering on which design to choose. You leaned back to rest your back against his chest, turning your head slightly towards him.

“Do you see any you like?” You asked. He was about to reply when a horrified gasp interrupted your conversation. You faced the front, surprised to see the owner; an elderly woman pointing a bony finger at Riki.

Her lips parted in a gasp of pure horror. “It can’t be…” she whispered, her voice quaking with a mix of fear and disbelief. Her frail frame seemed to shrink further as she pointed a bony finger at Riki, her eyes wide and wild. “The God of Shadows,” she breathed.

Your confusion deepened as you turned to Riki, only to find his expression eerily calm, though a subtle smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. The tension in the air was palpable, as though the shadows around you had grown heavier, darker. The woman’s voice rose in a shaky accusation. “You… you cursed her!” she cried, her words dripping with terror and despair. “That poor girl—she has no idea what you’ve done, does she? How her soul is bound to your darkness!”

You blinked, startled and utterly lost. “What is she talking about?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you looked between her and Riki.

But Riki only sneered, the amused glint in his eyes contrasting starkly with the woman’s trembling outrage. “Old habits die hard,” he said lazily, his tone dripping with indifference. “You always were good at spinning tales to scare the gullible.”

The elder woman’s hand shook as she clutched the talisman tighter, her gaze never leaving Riki’s. “This is no tale,” she hissed. “You’ve marked her, haven’t you? She’s yours now, whether she knows it or not.”

Riki’s smirk only widened as he turned his full attention to the elder woman, his shadowy aura growing thicker, almost tangible. “Marked her?” he drawled, his tone dripping with mockery. “Why don’t I show you just how marked she is?”

Before you could react, Riki leaned in, his breath warm against your skin as he pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to your cheek. The gesture was light, fleeting, but it sent a jolt of shock through you—and absolute terror through the stall owner. A blood-curdling scream erupted from her lips, her eyes widening as though she had witnessed the world itself shattering. “No! Stay away from her, you vile creature!” she screeched, her voice cracking with panic.

Her trembling hands fumbled for something on her stall, and in a blur of desperation, she grabbed the nearest item—a ceremonial dagger. Its blade glinted in the dim light, etched with ancient symbols that seemed to hum with power. With surprising speed for someone her age, she lunged at Riki, her face twisted with both fear and determination. “You won’t take her, demon!” she cried as she swung the dagger.

Riki stepped back with effortless grace, but not fast enough. The blade grazed his cheek, leaving a shallow, crimson line in its wake. A single drop of blood trailed down his face, stark against his skin. The crowd around you gasped, a ripple of shock spreading as the tension escalated. But Riki did not flinch. If anything, the sight of the dagger and the sting of the cut only seemed to amuse him further. Your eyes widened at the sight of the crimson liquid. You quickly moved, hands reaching out to cup his face and your left thumb gingerly wiped the blood away, leaving a smudge behind.

“Are you alright?” You murmured, only focused on the god standing before you, despite how you were in the center of everyone’s attention and how they were observing your every movement. Your sudden action caused whispers and murmurs amongst the growing audience but you turned a blind eye to them. None of them were worth your attention. Not when Riki is in front of you.

He leaned into your touch, like a touch-starved cat and nodded, “I’m fine, don’t worry. It’ll heal within seconds.”

The elder woman’s expression twisted in disbelief and fury. “You… You’ve bewitched her!” she spat, pointing the dagger toward him again. “Get out of here, the both of you. I don’t want my business to be ruined.”

Riki smirks, his hand snaking around your waist, pulling you gently yet possessively toward him. “If that’s what you wish. Good luck with your business,” he raised a hand as he directed you away from the stall, raising a hand to bid the fuming woman farewell. It was only when you were out of sight then you questioned him.

“What was that about?” You inquired, curiosity getting the better of you.

“I think she was a shaman and she must’ve seen through my disguise,” he sneers, eyes facing forward as he makes a turn to the left, leading you further away from the crowded street. The people around you were oblivious to the fact that a God was walking amongst them. All of them were too busy minding their respective lives.

“Perhaps I should’ve killed her,” he continues, sounding almost as if he was deep in thought.

You raised an eyebrow at his sentence. “And how would you do that?”

“I have my ways and besides, I’m not the God of Shadows for nothing,” he shrugged his shoulders. “But never mind that, do you still want to continue or are you feeling tired already?”

You sighed, “Let’s go home. My feet are starting to hurt from all the walking we did.”

“Of course.”

A few weeks passed but the encounter with the elderly woman has never left your mind. You could not focus on any of your tasks, be it as something simple as reading a book or making yourself a snack to eat. Riki was the same as always, showing no signs of indifference. A part of you wanted to ask him for answers but another part of you knew what his response would be. He will avoid your questions like the plague and provide vague answers, choosing to beat around the bush instead of getting to the point.

The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the night outside, the soft glow of the moon filtering through the window. Riki stood close, his dark eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. His hand reached up, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering.

“Why do you always look at me like that?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Like what?” you whispered, barely managing to find your voice as your heartbeat thundered in your ears.

“Like you’re trying to figure me out,” he said, stepping closer, his hand now tracing a feather-light path along your jawline. “Spoiler alert: you never will.”

“Riki…” You let out a pleased sigh when your lips brushed against one another, eyelids fluttering close.

Your arms loosely wrapped themselves around his neck, using it as an anchor to ground yourself as your body grew limp in his hold. The god smiles into the kiss, taking his sweet time in tasting you. The pace heavily depends on his mood. It could be sloppy and messy and sometimes, it could be gentle and delicate, as if you were a piece of fragile glass that could shatter anytime. You whined when he nipped your bottom lip, making you tug his hair as a form of warning. He apologized by running his tongue along the seams of your lips before pulling away, chuckling at the sound of protest you made.

This time, you were the one to close the distance and he allows it, allowing you to be greedy. Riki’s hand slid to the back of your neck, tilting your head slightly to deepen the kiss, while his other hand snaked its way underneath your shirt, running his hand up your spine, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. The kiss grew desperate and you sensed it before it actually happened. The temperature in the room changed and you were being pushed back onto the bed with Riki now hovering over you, who has not pulled away the entire time.

You melted into him, arching your back off the bed to press yourself against him, wanting to feel his body. Your hands gripped the fabric of his shirt as he forcefully parted your lips with his tongue. Muffled sounds akin to whimpers and mewls dripped from your lips. The taste of him was downright intoxicating and ever since he touched you, you were beyond addicted to his touch. Perhaps it was due to how touch-starved you were that made you drunk on Riki, where all you could think about was him and only him.

He kissed like he fought—with precision, passion, and the undeniable intent to leave you utterly breathless. His lips trailed to the corner of your mouth, then along your jaw, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. “You drive me insane, you know that?” he whispered against your skin, his tongue darting out to lick your neck.

“Good,” you managed to tease, your own breath hitching as you tilted your head back, granting him more access to your unblemished skin. You felt him mouthing the area just below your jawline, not low enough for the collars of your shirts to conceal it but not high enough for you to easily hide it either.

You bite down on your lips, suppressing the whine when you feel Riki sucks on your skin. The sensation was nearly enough to make your eyes roll up. Your grip on his shirt tightened when you felt him moving to another area to leave another hickey.

“R-Riki, what are you—” You asked, only to let out a pathetic mewl when he teasingly bit down on your skin, not hard enough to draw blood but hard enough to elicit a reaction out of you.

“Sorry darling,” he chuckles, his hot breath grazing against your skin. The god pulls away to admire his handiwork, taking note of the marks he left behind; a firm and visible reminder that you belong to him.

“You’re impossible,” you grumbled, lips curling down in a pout. Riki’s eyes softened at the sight. He leans in to kiss you on the lips and you gasped when you felt him pushing your shirt upwards, revealing more of your skin to him.

“Sounds like you don’t accept my apology. Perhaps I can show it in another way instead,” he grins and you could only gulp, mentally preparing yourself for the incoming torture from him.

You took a deep breath, inhaling the salty scent of the ocean and the fresh air. You squint your eyes when a strong gust of breeze blows past, only to yelp when your hat is blown away. A hand shot out, appearing in your sight and managed to grab the hat before it was gone. The figure moved to stand before you and he placed the hat on your head.

“You should be more careful. What if you get blown away next?” Riki teased.

“If that happens, you better catch me,” you retorted, leaning in to press a chaste kiss on his lips. You laughed at how he chased after your lips when you pulled away.

“You know, as cute as the two of you are, I’ve been standing here for a solid five minutes and I’m starting to think I’ve turned invisible.”

You turned to your left and saw Heeseung standing a few feet away. He was dressed in casual clothes; a plain black undershirt with a denim jacket over it and a pair of pants. No one would be able to tell he was the God of War. Smiling, you waved at the approaching figure as you moved away from Riki.

“Heeseung, what brings you here?” You greeted him once he was closer and gave him a hug, to which he returned the gesture before pulling away.

“I’m here for Riki actually. I need to talk to him about something,” the other replied, eyes glancing in his direction.

You looked between the two and nodded in understanding. “I see, well I guess I shouldn’t be listening then.” You were about to walk away but Riki stopped you by grabbing your wrist. Heeseung raised an eyebrow at that, bemused.

“No, you can stay. I have a feeling what he wants to say concerns you,” he replied, narrowing his eyes at Heeseung who sighed, nodding in agreement. At this point, you were confused but you obliged, remaining where you were and waiting for him to speak.

His expression turned grim. "I've been hearing whispers," he said, his gaze flickering between you and Riki. "There are minor gods—restless, envious ones—who’ve taken notice of her. They’ve been talking about her purity, how untouched her soul is. And the fact that you," Heeseung looked directly at Riki, "turned her immortal only makes her more desirable to them. To them, she’s an anomaly. Something extraordinary. They’re determined to get their hands on her, no matter what it takes."

Your breath caught, and you glanced at Riki, feeling the tension rising instantly. His jaw clenched, shadows pooling around him like living creatures as his anger began to take form. His eyes darkened with an unspoken fury. This was the first time you had seen him getting angry. But when he spoke, his voice carried a chilling confidence.

“Let them come,” Riki sneered, his lips curling into a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll show them what happens when they try to take what’s mine.”

The air seemed to darken around him, his shadows weaving and coiling as if responding to his anger. Though his expression was sharp and his tone dismissive, there was a feral edge to his presence that made you shiver. Heeseung raised an eyebrow, clearly unfazed by Riki's display, though there was a trace of amusement in his knowing gaze.

“Just don’t underestimate them,” Heeseung warned, leaning forward. “You might be strong, but so are they. And they won’t play fair.”

Riki’s smirk widened, his anger simmering just below the surface. “They’re welcome to try. I’ll make sure it’s the last mistake they ever make.”

Heeseung took his leave after that and the tension vanished once he was gone. You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Well, I guess the mood’s ruined now. What are you planning to do?” You turned to him.

“I could find them first and kill them but I don’t want to leave you here alone,” he replied, furrowing his eyebrows.

“But I won’t be alone, I can stay over at either Jay’s or Heeseung’s—”

“Do not say another man’s name, not after we’ve had sex,” he deadpanned, scrunching his nose as if it was too painful for him to say that.

You rolled your eyes, amused with the way he starts sulking like a little kid, “Are you jealous?”

“No,” he instantly replied, which sounded way too suspicious, “why would I be jealous of them? It’s not like they’re better than me. I’m better than them.”

You eyed him in silence until Riki sighed, “Well, I don’t think there’s anything you need to worry about in the first place. I’m perfectly capable of handling them myself.”

“I didn’t say anything though?” You innocently blinked your eyes. The god was unamused with your facade.

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Technically, you can’t die so.”

“...”

The next few days passed in tense silence. Riki was unusually quiet, only answering you with either a nod or a hum. He was on constant high alert, eyes doing a quick scan of his surroundings as he stood close to you, shoulders tensed. As much as you appreciate him looking out for you, it was starting to get to you. You no longer had the freedom to wander around on your own. He insisted on you informing him about your whereabouts and to always update him if you were moving to another location.

Whether it was a stroll along the beach or simply sitting at the backyard, his shadow never left yours. His gaze followed every movement, his steps always just a fraction behind yours. At first, you tried to ignore it. You told yourself it was his way of ensuring your safety. But as the days passed, the constant presence began to gnaw at you. It reminded you of your life in the village—how your freedom had been stripped away the moment they decided to send you as an offering. You were tired of feeling like a fragile thing to be protected, like a prisoner wrapped in silken chains.

Today was your final straw.

You whirled around abruptly, cutting Riki off mid-step as he trailed behind you. The frustration you had been bottling up finally spilled over.

“Why do you keep following me?” you snapped, your voice sharper than intended. “Everywhere I go, you’re there, watching, hovering like I’m some hopeless child. I can’t even breathe without feeling like I’m being watched!”

Riki blinked, clearly taken aback by the sudden outburst. His usual calm demeanor flickered, and for a moment, there was a flash of something deeper in his dark eyes—something like worry, or maybe guilt. But then, just as quickly, he composed himself, his expression hardening.

“I’m doing it to keep you safe,” he said evenly, though there was a quiet intensity in his tone. “The minor gods… they’re always watching. If I’m not around, they’ll try to get to you.”

You clenched your fists, frustration boiling over. “Do you really think I’m that weak? That I can’t take care of myself? I’m not some fragile thing, Riki. I don’t need you—or anyone—constantly looking over my shoulder!”

His jaw tightened, and for the first time, there was a hint of anger in his voice when he responded. “You don’t understand,” he said, stepping closer, his eyes darkening like the very shadows he commanded. “They want you. Not for who you are, but for what you represent. And I refuse to let them have you.”

You went silent, watching him and the god took this to continue by taking a step closer. “I’m not trying to take your freedom. I just don’t want to lose you. Please, trust me.”

The vulnerability in his voice made something in you ache and you could not find it in yourself to be mad at him. Not when he had given you a new life from scratch. Not when he had treated you as an equal. You took a shaky breath, your anger softening but not entirely gone. “Fine,” you whispered. “Protect me if you must, but just don’t cage me.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The wind whispered through the trees, and the shadows danced around you, swirling in the space between frustration and understanding. Finally, Riki let out a quiet sigh, his shoulders relaxing just slightly.

“I’ll try,” he said, and though his voice was quiet, it carried the weight of a promise. “But don’t expect me to stop caring.”

A few days had passed since your confrontation with Riki, and the uneasy truce you had reached left the air heavy with unspoken tension. He had kept his distance—mostly—but you still felt his presence lingering in the shadows, watching from afar. You told yourself you were relieved to have a bit of space, but deep down, the quiet was unsettling.

That morning, the world felt different.

You woke abruptly, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. The apartment was eerily silent, the usual creaks and hums replaced by a stillness that felt unnatural. You sat up, the blanket slipping from your shoulders as a chill ran through you. Something was not right. And then, you heard it. A soft, almost inaudible whisper, like the sound of wind through dead leaves. It was not coming from outside. It was inside.

Your pulse quickened as you climbed out of bed, your bare feet touching the cold floor. The air felt heavy, suffused with a strange, oppressive energy. Shadows pooled unnaturally in the corners of the room, shifting like they were alive. You took a cautious step toward the doorway, and that was when you saw them.

Figures, barely human in form, their bodies twisted and dark, like shadows given flesh. Their eyes glowed faintly—dull, malevolent orbs that locked onto you with predatory intent. The minor gods. Your breath hitched, and panic surged through your veins. They should not be here. You were supposed to be safe. Riki’s presence had always kept them at bay. But now, without him near, they had come.

“Stay back,” you warned, though your voice trembled. You grabbed the nearest thing—a lamp—clutching it like a lifeline.

One of the figures stepped forward, its voice a hollow echo. “You thought you could escape us?” it hissed, its tone dripping with malice. “The God of Shadows is not here to protect you now.”

Your heart pounded. You backed away slowly, trying to think, trying to find a way out. “I don’t belong to any of you,” you spat, though fear laced your words.

They laughed, the sound a chorus of hollow, empty echoes. “You don’t understand,” another one sneered. “You are more valuable than you know. And now… you’re ours.”

Before you could react, a shadow darted toward you, too fast to dodge. But just as the figure reached out, the room plunged into deeper darkness—a suffocating, cold void that swallowed the light whole. A familiar voice, low and deadly, echoed through the darkness.

“No, she’s not.”

Riki.

The shadows writhed and recoiled as he stepped forward, his form emerging from the darkness like a force of nature. His eyes glowed with an eerie gray light, his expression cold and furious.

“You’ve made a mistake coming here,” he said, his voice dripping with quiet menace. “And you won’t leave this place alive.”

With a wave of his hand, the shadows around him surged forward, crashing into the minor gods like a tidal wave. They shrieked in fury and pain, their forms twisting and disintegrating as Riki’s power overwhelmed them. The air grew heavier, darker, as if the shadow themselves were suffocating the light. You stood behind Riki, your heart racing, thinking it was over. The silence that followed their destruction was short-lived. More gods appeared out of nowhere, spawning one after another.

They seeped from the walls, the floor, anywhere that creates a shadow. Minor gods, their twisted forms multiplying, each one more grotesque and menacing than the last. Their eyes glowed with hunger, and their whispers filled the room like a sinister chant.

“You thought you could protect her?” One sneered, its voice dripping with malice. “You’re just one god, Riki. You can’t fight us all.”

Riki did not flinch. The glow in his eyes intensified as he stepped forward. The air around him shimmered with power, the darkness bending to his will. “I’ve defeated worse,” he said, voice cold and unyielding. “And I’ll destroy all of you, no matter what.”

With a sharp gesture, he unleashed a torrent of shadows that moved like a tidal wave, slamming into the advancing gods. They howled as the darkness consumed them, but for every one that fell, another took its place. The battle raged on. The apartment became a battleground, walls cracking under the strain of divine power. Riki moved like a dancer in the dark, graceful yet brutal, every strike precise and devastating. He was relentless, his power unfurling like an endless abyss, swallowing the minor gods whole. But they kept coming, wave after wave, their determination growing more desperate.

“Riki,” you called, panic seeping into your voice as you saw the strain beginning to show. His breath was ragged, sweat glistening on his brow, though his eyes never lost their fire.

“I’m fine,” he gritted out, though his voice wavered slightly. “Stay close to me.”

But you could see it—he was reaching his limits and at this rate, he was pushing himself over it. Anyone with eyes could tell it was taking its toll. The room trembled as more shadows collided and then, light pierced through the darkness. Not from outside, but from the god himself. The temperature dropped, frost curling along the edges of the walls. A faint, otherworldly glow began to pulse from his body—a cold, radiant light like the silvery hue of moonlight.

“No…” one of them hissed, its voice trembling. “Impossible, you’re not just the God of Shadows. You’re something more.”

Riki smirked, though his voice was hoarse. “Took you long enough but it’s too late.”

The room exploded with light and darkness entwined. Silvery beams of moonlight cut through the shadows like blades, illuminating the dark corners and banishing the minor gods' forms. Where once his power had been cold and suffocating, it was now an ethereal mix of grace and fury. The light clashed with the darkness, bending both to his will.

With a single, fluid motion, Riki raised his hand, and tendrils of shimmering shadow-laced light spiral outward, crashing into the minor gods. They shrieked, their forms unraveling like fabric torn apart by an unseen wind. One by one, they disintegrated, obliterated by the overwhelming force. You remained rooted to the ground, awestruck by the display of power you had just witnessed. Compared to the few times he showed you his ability, this was on another level.

Riki turned to you, his eyes still glowing with that silvery light, but it was softer now and less dangerous. He looked almost ethereal, both equally terrifying and beautiful in the aftermath of the battle. You caught the way he staggered, his body swaying with exhaustion, but before he could face-planted to the ground, you caught him, pulling him into your arms.

“You did it, you saved us,” you whispered, running your hand through his hair.

He leans against you, his breath ragged but a smile stretched across his face. “Told you I would.”

Tears stung your eyes and you laughed, “You’re unbelievable.”

He chuckled weakly, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you close despite his exhaustion. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”

You held him tightly, the fear and chaos of the night finally melting away into a profound sense of peace. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “For everything.”

Riki pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “I’ll always protect you,” he promised, his voice tender. “And that’s a promise from me to you.”

#ꨄ writings #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #riki x reader #riki x y/n #riki x you #nishimura riki imagines #nishimura riki x reader #nishimura riki x you #nishimura riki x y/n #nishimura niki x reader #niki x reader #niki x you #niki imagines #niki fluff

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simpjaes · 2 days ago

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rimming enha and them just taking it im so hornyygfeww

this wasn't what u asked for but im feral rn so here is hyung line + ass eating. warnings: ASS EATING [my specialty]!!!!!!!!!

☆ jay:

jay would fight you at first, but he's very aware that you have far more energy to win the fight considering he spends all day every day being the perfect man for you. wouldn't take that much to have him giving in either, but he'd be nervous. Probably pulls away at the first lick or touch of his hole ;o; definitely wouldn't let you near it unless he's showered and double checked it in the mirror either. his moans tho, when he realizes how good it feels....oh boy. soft little gasps into his arm while he covers his face, feeling more vulnerable than usual bc he's so used to being the one eating you out. eventually he'd probably shyly ask for it, like "babe, remember when you..." and you[me] would be like "SAY NO MORE" while throwing his legs up in the air and holding those cheeks open with a grip that god himself couldn't tear away.

★ jake:

The type to spread his cheeks for you with both hands and look back at you with sparkly tired eyes. idk, i think you guys are aware of how i feel about jake and how biased i am towards eating his ass. he'd constantly stay cleaned up and groomed too just in case, because he's always going to ask you for it. Definitely loves when you lick the mixture of your own slick + his huge loads of cum off of it too. He would make you stay on it if you're on top, waiting for the mess to drip all the way back between his cheeks, then ask you to lick it :D and you would, because you're both nasty together and i just think thats super hot and very neat.

☆ sunghoon:

you'd have to ask him approximately six million times before he eventually lets you. wouldn't really admit that he's into it either, but you'd know solely because of the way he tries to hide jerking himself off through it. he'd never tell a soul, and feels lucky to have you remain so quiet about it too. it's like a little secret you guys share, and you'd eventually make him feel so safe with the secret that he'd maaaaaaybe start asking you for it from time to time. like, "you don't have to if you don't want to..."

★ heeseung:

you don't ask, he doesn't ask. he forces your face between his cheeks and makes you lick it as a form of humiliation. He doesn't even like it that much, but loves to call you gross because you just....you just do it? like you'd do anything for him if you're willing to eat his ass. suffocate you on it, really. I'm talking on his knees straddling your chest, face fucking you before quickly whipping around with a laugh and planting his hole right on your gasping mouth. *sigh* he's a freak.

#enhypen smut #park jongseong smut #sim jaeyun smut #park sunghoon smut #lee heeseung smut

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promiscuousg1rl · 1 day ago

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sofia girl i was worried that i would have to hate you in this fic, but you didn’t disappoint!

i especially love that while it was obvious she still wanted him, she still wasn’t bitter about everything and went on to give him advice and let him know where he fucked up at regarding yn

topper bitch this is your fault, move around!

ok i love the fact that he’s groveling and aside from him finally being honest with himself about still being in love with her, i think his concerns about being just like ward is driving him to really try and fix things with her. im all for breaking generational trauma and curses!

sarah i love you !!!!!!!

deny deny deny! she wasn’t giving up our girl yn for nothing. topper needs to take notes fr! she’s putting yn’s health, feelings, and MENTAL health first before anything & making sure she doesn’t betray her trust as well. she’s calling rafe out on his shit and saying everything yn hasn’t allowed herself to say.

"you're just not worth the energy right now." // “instead of crying like he wanted to, he let out a dry laugh, pacing back and forth in front of her.”

this made me feel so bad for him 😭 the man is stressing bad and is at such a loss for what to do. BUT it’s also like ….welcome to what’s become of yn’s life since she a: came back to kildare & b: FOUND OUT SHE WAS PREGNANT WITH YOUR BABY AFTER SEEING YOU WITH A NEW GIRL AFTER GHOSTING HER! on one hand i wanna tell him to suck it up but on the other…i wanna hug him. idk 😣

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - NINE

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mentions of leukemia; death; pregnancy; abortion.

💌MASTERLIST

Rafe had been through a ton of traumatic bullshit by the age of fourteen.

His mom had been battling leukemia since he was ten, it started off as an infection—but it turned into one of those long, drawn-out wars that tricks you into thinking there’s hope when there isn’t.

It would go away for a bit, just enough to make everyone think the fight was over, and then it’d come slamming back worse every time.

When he was fourteen, it finally took her for good, when he’d been silly enough to believe she might pull through.

To be fair, he was only a little kid waiting on a miracle, praying she’d wake up one day magically cured.

Now, when he looked back on it, he hated himself for being so naive. The signs had been there all along, the nurses whispering in the hallways, Ward turning into this void of a human, who looked at him like he didn’t know how to fix it anymore. The talks his mom would have with him about how “no matter what happens, you’ll be okay.”

That phrase haunted him for years.

Her death didn’t wreck him; it tore him apart and left him in tiny pieces that didn’t fit together the same way. He wasn’t the same kid afterward, not even close.

He got angrier, distant.

He didn’t recognize who he’d been before it all—some kid who really believed in happy endings.

He didn’t believe in much after she died, people let you down, life ripped everything good out of your hands. Why bother holding on to anything at all?

It wasn’t just the grief; it was the guilt.

He’d get mad at her, sometimes, for being sick. He’d slam his door and cry into his pillow because he just wanted a normal life, a mom who wasn’t always tired or in pain or hooked up to some machine.

He hated himself for that.

The day of her funeral, he remembered everything, even though he wished he didn’t. The church smelled like old wood and lilies, that smell that never left you once it sank in.

People kept coming up to him, patting his shoulder, saying things like, “She’s in a better place now,” or “Stay strong, buddy.”

He wanted to yell at them, shake them, make them shut up. She wasn’t in a better place. A better place would’ve been here, alive, laughing at his dumb jokes, or rolling her eyes at him for leaving his shoes in the hallway. It wouldn’t be six feet under, locked in a box, shoved into a hole in the ground like she never existed.

He didn’t cry, not when they opened the casket for everyone to say their final goodbyes, not when his dad stood up and choked through some half-assed speech that was mostly apologies and memories, not when they lowered her into the ground, the ropes creaking as her casket disappeared into the earth.

He just stood there, hands in his pockets, staring straight ahead, as if he wasn’t even present. Inside, though?

His his chest was on fire.

He refused to let even a single tear fall, it felt pointless, it wasn’t going to bring her back. It wasn’t going to fix anything. And deep down, he thought he didn’t deserve to cry, if he’d been stronger if he’d prayed harder, or been a better son, she’d still be alive.

The sound he remembered the most was the thud of dirt hitting the coffin after the service. It was final, loud, the earth itself mocking him. People around him sniffled, hugged each other, wiped at their eyes, but Rafe just stood there, staring down into the hole, fists buried in his pockets until his nails dug into his palms.

He kept thinking about how wrong this all was, this wasn’t where she was supposed to end up, and none of this was fair.

She should’ve been there.

She should’ve been standing next to him, arm around his shoulder, telling him to stop slouching, whispering something to make him laugh in the middle of all this sadness. Instead, she was in there, soon the dirt would cover it up, and that’d be it.

Gone. Just like that.

After the service, Rafe didn’t try to stick around for the house gathering, he wasn’t going to survive that. All those people crowding the living room, balancing paper plates of casserole, acting like they gave a fuck about his mom. It was fake, all of it.

They’d forget about her in a week.

He slipped out when no one was paying attention, cutting through the side yard and heading to the only place that felt halfway normal—the old skate park behind the rec center. It was run-down as fuck, but he and his friends used to hang out there all the time, sitting on the busted ramps, talking trash, or just doing nothing.

When he got there, it was empty, which was exactly what he wanted. He climbed up on the old half-pipe, sitting cross-legged with his elbows on his knees, staring at the cracked pavement below.

He couldn’t stop replaying the day in his head, the casket, the dirt, the stupid better place comments. His chest felt like it was breaking in a million tiny pieces, but he still couldn’t cry, his body just wouldn’t let him.

Instead, he just sat there, wishing the world would leave him alone for five minutes.

That’s when he heard footsteps behind him.

He thought about running—didn’t need anyone seeing him like this, especially not now. But then you spoke.

“Figured I’d find you here.”

He didn’t look at you right away, just exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah? Well, congrats. You win the prize.”

He wasn’t in the mood to be nice, even to you.

But you didn’t flinch, you never did. That’s one of the things he liked about you—you didn’t get scared off when he got like this. You just climbed up next to him and sat down.

You didn’t try to say all that comforting bullshit people had been feeding him all day, and he was grateful for that.

“You okay?” you asked eventually.

He snorted. “Do I look okay?”

"Sorry, stupid question."

He sighed, hating that he was being asshole to his best friend, "It's fine."

When he finally glanced at you, you were watching him, trying to figure out what to say. It made him nervous, the way you looked at him. You always did that—you cared about what was going on in his head, you saw more than what he let people see.

“I’m not gonna sit here and pretend I know what you’re feeling,” you said finally. “But you don’t have to do this alone, Rafe. You know that, right?”

If only you knew what you would be going through just three short years later.

He wanted to snap at you, tell you to leave, he was fine, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he just stared down at the pavement again, “Feels like I do.”

You didn’t say anything, just moved closer, close enough that your arm brushed against his. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make him feel…something, less alone.

Rafe didn’t know how long you both sat there, could’ve been ten minutes, could’ve been an hour. Time didn’t feel real anymore, you didn’t push him to talk, which he appreciated more than he’d ever admit, you didn’t throw out any of those awkward “it’ll get better” lines. You just sat with him.

“You can talk to me, you know.”

He shook his head without looking at you. “There’s nothing to say.” His voice was rough, flat. “She’s gone. That’s it.”

“You don’t have to pretend like it doesn’t suck."

He clenched his jaw, staring at the pavement like if he looked at you, everything would break.

“What’s the point?” he muttered. “Crying’s not gonna change anything. It’s not gonna—” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, trying to force it back.

“Rafe.” You sighed, and this time “You don’t have to hold it together for anyone, okay? It’s me.”

That broke him, actually broke him. His chest felt tight, suddenly he couldn’t keep it in.

His breath hitched, his shoulders shook, and before he knew it, tears were sliding down his face. He tried to stop it, to hide it, scrubbing his hands over his face, but it was no use.

“Shit,” he choked out, his voice cracking once more.

“Hey, hey,” you said quickly, and before he could pull away or do something stupid like tell you to leave, you scooted over.

He froze for a second, unsure what to do, but then he remembered the funeral, the whispers, the dirt hitting the casket, all the things he couldn’t stop thinking about—he just let it all out.

The first sob ripped out of him so suddenly it startled him, he hunched over, elbows on his knees, hands gripping his hair, as if he could physically stop himself from breaking. But it didn’t work.

Another sob followed, and then another, and soon they were pouring out of him—loud, messy, completely out of his control. He couldn’t stop it, and he hated it.

He leaned into you, his forehead pressing against your shoulder, and just cried. When he felt your arms instantly wrap around him, pulling him into a hug as if you’d been waiting for his permission, he shattered completely.

“She’s—” His voice caught in his throat, and he had to stop, gasping for air as the tears kept coming. “She’s gone. She’s gone, and I—” He broke off.

It was ugly and loud and nothing like how he’d pictured himself breaking down, but he didn’t care. You didn’t tell him it’d be okay or try to make him stop, just held him, your arms tight around him.

“I miss her,” he whispered, his voice so small it barely sounded like him. “I miss her so much, and I—I don’t know what to do.”

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried like this, and part of him hated how exposed it made him feel. He hated crying in front of people—anyone. But right now, with you, he didn’t feel embarrassed.

“I know,” you nodded, your hand moving in small circles on his back. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

“I—” he choked out, his voice breaking. “I can’t—this isn’t—it’s not fair.”

“It’s not,” you didn’t want to scare away the fragile pieces of him that were finally surfacing. “It’s not fair. None of it is.”

He couldn’t stop shaking or gasping for breaths that hitched in his chest. The more he tried to push it all backdown, the harder it fought to claw its way out. For years, he’d kept it buried—buried so deep he thought he’d never have to deal with it.

“I hate it,” he managed, the words tumbling out in a jagged mess. “I hate that she’s gone. I hate that I didn’t—” He stopped, gripping his hair harder. “I didn’t do enough. I should’ve been better, done something—anything.”

“Stop. You can’t do that to yourself.”

He shook his head violently, “But I did. I gave up on her. I stopped believing she’d get better, I—I got mad at her for being sick. What kind of son does that? I didn’t even say goodbye the way I should’ve. I just—I left the hospital because I couldn’t take it anymore, and then she—” His voice cracked again, and his hands dropped from his hair to his lap, clenched into fists “She’s gone, and I left. I wasn’t there when she—” His breath hitched, and he buried his face in his hands.

“You’re a kid. It’s not your fault, okay? None of this is.”

“But it feels like it is,” he shot back, “I should’ve done something, anything. I just feel so—” He stopped, letting out a shaky exhale. “Empty. Like nothing I do matters anymore.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

The way you said it, so certain—He didn’t know why, but it cut through the noise in his head just enough to let him breathe again.

“I don’t know how to keep going,” he admitted, “I don’t know how t-to live without her.”

Growing up, Rafe had always been a momma’s boy.

She was his safe place—the one person who didn’t make him feel like he had to be someone else. With her, he didn’t have to try so damn hard to be tough, or perfect, or whatever the hell his dad wanted him to be.

Ward wasn’t the kind of dad who let his kids cry on his shoulder or told them he loved them every day. No, Ward was the kind of dad who believed in rules.

Men didn’t cry. Men didn’t show weakness. Men didn’t mess up—or, if they did, they sure as hell didn’t admit it.

He expected Rafe to follow those rules like they were gospel.

The worst part? His rules about what it meant to be a man stuck with Rafe, even when he didn’t want them to. When his mom got sick, he found himself choking back tears in the hospital bathroom, staring at his reflection and hearing Ward’s voice in his head: “Crying doesn’t solve anything. You’ve gotta be strong, for her, for your sisters.”

He had this idea in his head of what Rafe was supposed to be—strong, dependable, successful. He didn’t yell or lose his temper like some dads back then, he just made him feel like shit in this fucked up way.

Rafe tried, shit, he’d tried, but it felt impossible.

Every time he looked at his mom, pale and tired but still managing to smile at him like he was her whole world, he felt like he was dying too, then he’d feel guilty—for being so weak, for wanting to break down when she was the one fighting for her life.

It didn’t help that Ward had always had a soft spot for Sarah. Everyone could see it, even Rafe. She was the golden child, the one who could do no wrong, the one Ward went out of his way to protect.

If Rafe screwed up, it was a lecture or a punishment, but if Sarah did? Ward would just shake his head and say, “She’s still young. She’ll learn.”

It used to piss him off more than he wanted to admit. It wasn’t that he hated her—she was his sister, and he loved her. But how could he not resent her? He felt invisible when she got all the attention and the understanding, while he was expected to man up and deal with it.

After her funeral, things changed.

Rafe became quicker to snap, to walk away from anything that felt too hard. He was only himself around you, behind closed doors, never for preying eyes. Sarah grew colder, retreating into her own world where everything was controlled and distant.

Every time they spoke, it ended in shouting matches, slamming doors, or long stretches of silence that neither of them attempted to solve.

Except when you were there.

Ward got even colder, the grief had frozen whatever part of him used to care. He threw himself into work, making sure Sarah was okay, and barely even looked at his son. When he did, it was usually to tell him to pull it together, or to stop being so “moody.”

Rafe started to wonder if he even cared that he was falling apart, if he ever noticed the nights Rafe stayed out too late or came home smelling like booze. If he saw the way he avoided talking to him, how he flinched whenever Ward brought up his mom. But if his dad noticed, he never said anything.

He thought it was just Rafe being Rafe—angry, unpredictable, a disappointment.

Fast forward to the present, and he hadn’t felt this helpless since that day at the funeral, not even when Ward’s died four months ago.

You weren’t in his life anymore—hadn’t been for a while and you were possibly pregnant.

He wasn’t a hundred percent sure, but it made sense, everything lined up with that possibility. He thought back to everything you’d been through together, the times you’d been there for him when no one else was, how you’d seen the pieces of him no one else cared to.

Now, you were having his kid—and he was hearing about it from Topper?

Rafe spent the first hour after Topper dropped the news pacing his bedroom like a caged animal, his heart wouldn’t stop racing and he felt like a ticking time bomb.

The Rafe—the one who flew off the handle, yelled, broke things, and pushed people away—was begging to get out. But Topper’s voice kept replaying in his head, he had to act right, be calm, for your sake. To prove himself.

The problem was, that staying calm wasn’t his strong suit.

He’d spent years burying every emotion he couldn’t control under layers of anger, and now he was supposed to sit with the hurricane in his chest and figure out how to make things right.

For the first time in a long time, he realized he didn’t even know where to start.

That night, he locked himself in his room, ignoring his phone, his friends, everyone. None of it mattered anymore, the only thing he could think about was you—and the baby.

He spent hours pacing, running his hands through his hair, trying to think of what the fuck he was going to say.

What was he gonna say after everything he’d put you through? After the fight, the distance, the way he’d shut you out when you’d been nothing but good to him until that point?

He sat down on the edge of his bed, head still in his hands, and let himself feel everything he’d been avoiding. The fear, the regret, the anger at himself. He thought about you—how you used to look at him like he wasn’t just a mess of a person, you’d stuck by him even when he’d given you every reason to leave.

You weren’t here anymore.

He’d pushed you so far away you hadn’t even told him about the situation yourself. Why would you anyway? He ghosted you and the next time you saw him he was with someone else. He could still see the look on your face when you saw him that night—arms slung casually around Sofia, while you sat in your car, eyes wild, you hadn’t tried to step outside, hadn’t yelled or made a scene, you simply drove off.

It wasn’t until an hour later and terrible text message to you, that drunk and pissed at himself, he realized just how badly he’d screwed up. But by then, the damage was done, and he’d been too much of a coward to fix it. What followed was a sea of bad decisions and nights he couldn’t remember, trying to drown out the ache of losing you.

He’d been drinking for Ward’s death until that point, now he did it for you.

Everything was catching up to him—the way he let his dad’s voice in his head drown out his own, making him let you slip through his fingers.

He didn’t deserve you—he knew that.

By sunrise, Rafe was still wide awake, sitting on the floor of his room surrounded by half-crumpled pieces of paper. He’d been trying to write down what he wanted to say to you, but everything sounded wrong. He’d never been good with words, not the kind that mattered.

He wasn’t a dad, wasn’t even close to being the kind of guy who could be a dad.

What the fuck did he know about raising a kid? Changing diapers? Teaching someone right from wrong? Being patient? But the thought of you—of you carrying his kid—hit him differently.

At first, it had been pure panic. You hated him, what if you didn’t want him involved? What if he was just like Ward—cold, distant, always expecting too much? What if he screwed the kid up the same way he felt like he’d been screwed up?

He pictured it without meaning to: you holding a tiny bundle in your arms, your face soft in a way he hadn’t seen in so long. A kid with your smile, your laugh—but his eyes. Or his messy hair. It scared the shit out of him.

What if she doesn’t even want to keep it?

Rafe hadn’t let himself go there at first, it was a lot to wrap his head around, the idea that there might not even be a child to fight for.

The thought of you going through this, struggling to make a choice that he couldn’t help with, made him feel useless.

Frustrated, he grabbed his keys and headed out, needing to clear his head. The island was silent this early, the kind of calm that used to make him feel trapped, but now, though, it was a relief. He drove aimlessly for a while, the salty air whipping through the open windows, until he found himself parked at the beach.

He didn’t know why he’d come here—well, you’d always bring him here when he spiraled. He sat there, watching the waves crash against the shore, feeling a weird sort of clarity that he hadn’t felt in months.

Perhaps it was the silence, or the way the ocean didn’t care about all the fucking mess in his head, but something about it made him stop spiraling for a second.

He started to think about what Topper had said—not just about staying calm, but about proving to you that he still cared. That wasn’t something he could do with words alone, not after everything. He’d have to show you, he’d have to be the version of himself you used to believe in, the one who wasn’t ruled by his worst impulses.

Rafe knew the first step before he could even think about talking to you: he had to end things with Sofia. They weren’t official, but they might as well have been.

People talked, made assumptions, and sure, he’d let them. It was easier that way—less explaining, less having to deal with the uncomfortable truth that he’d only been with her to fill the empty space you left behind. It was cruel, but at the time, he hadn’t cared.

Sofia wasn’t you, but she was there, and more importantly, she didn’t expect anything from him. Keeping things going with her wasn’t just a bad idea; it was disrespectful. To you, to her, to himself. He couldn’t pretend he cared about her like that—not when his heart had never really left your orbit.

When he showed up at her place that morning before work, she didn’t seem surprised—not even a little. She’d seen the writing on the wall for weeks now, but tonight, seeing him standing there, just confirmed what she already knew.

She watched him like she was waiting for him to get to the point, but not impatiently—just resigned, she already knew what he was about to say.

“Can I come in?”

She let him in without a word, she wasn’t mad, not really. If anything, she felt sad—mostly for him, a little for herself. How the fuck was he supposed to explain this without sounding like the worst person alive?

“You okay?” she asked quietly, she wasn’t being polite—she was trying to read him, figure out where this was going.

Rafe didn’t sit, didn’t take off his jacket. He stayed standing, hands shoved deep in his pockets, trying to find the words that wouldn’t make this worse. “I—” He cleared his throat. “I need to talk to you about something.

She raised an eyebrow, her lips pressing together in a tight line. “Be honest.”

“This...this isn’t fair to you,” he started, his words tumbling out fast, “I should’ve been real with you from the start, but I wasn't," He swallowed hard, “You deserve better than me using you to forget someone else.”

Sofia didn’t say anything at first, just crossed her arms loosely, not making it easy for him, but she wasn’t making it harder, either.

“I shouldn’t have dragged you into this,” he continued, forcing himself to look at her. “It feels wrong and it’s not because of you. You’re great. You’ve been...you’ve been more patient with me than I deserve.”

Her lips curved into a small, almost imperceptible smile, one that wasn’t quite happy but wasn’t cruel either. “But you’re still in love with her.”

He didn’t know why it shocked him—Sofia had always been perceptive—but hearing her say it out loud made it real in a way it hadn’t been before.

“I—” He hesitated, but there was no point in denying it. “Yeah.”

“I knew,” She nodded like she’d been waiting for that confirmation. “I figured. I told myself it didn’t matter because—because I thought maybe you’d move on. Maybe I could help you move on. But you didn’t, and I—” She pressed her lips together, shaking her head as her arms tightened around herself.

Rafe’s brows furrowed. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

She shrugged, the movement almost casual.

“Because I really like you,” she admitted, “I knew. The party? When you got blackout drunk after seeing her leave? Or the country club, when you nearly started a fight defending her? I know you drove her to the hospital too. I kept hoping—God, I kept hoping you’d see me, that you’d let me be enough.”

He’d known she cared—he wasn’t blind—but hearing her saying like that made him realize just how he fucked up. She wasn’t wrong. He had been trying to numb himself, to drown out the reality of losing you, and she had been the collateral damage.

He looked away, guilt twisting in his chest. “I didn’t mean to drag you into this. That wasn’t fair to you.”

“No,” she agreed, her tone firm but not unkind. “It wasn’t, but I don’t think you meant to hurt me either, you were trying to hurt yourself. It's still stupid of me to try, knowing you need to figure your shit out, but you don’t have to end things. I know what I signed up for, Rafe. I’m not asking you to choose me over her—I’m just asking you to try."

There was no anger in her voice, no bitterness—just exhaustion. It made him feel like a piece of shit because she deserved to feel angry, to lash out at him. But instead, she was still trying to give him a way out, a way to make this easier on himself.

“I’ll take whatever part of you I can get.”

It wasn’t desperate or pleading—it was resigned. She already knew the answer, but she couldn’t help saying it out loud.

Rafe shook his head, his jaw tightening as he fought to keep his composure. “No,” he said, his voice firm. “You deserve someone who can give you everything. That’s not me.”

“Why not?” she pressed, her tone insistent.

“Because all of me already belongs to her,” Rafe admitted, his voice breaking at the end. “It always has, it always will.”

Sofia blinked, her lips parting slightly in surprise, but she didn’t look hurt—just...sad. She nodded slowly, her shoulders dropping in defeat.

“I hope she knows what she has, and I pray you show her," She stood up and motioning toward the door. “We both deserve better than a guy who drinks himself to death after seeing her at a party. So do you.”

Rafe didn’t move right away, unsure if he should say something more, apologize again, explain himself better.

“Thank you,” he said finally, his voice quieter than he meant it to be.

“Don’t thank me,” she replied, “Just do better.”

“I shouldn’t have let it go on this long,” he confessed, “I just—I didn’t know how to stop.”

Her expression softened just enough to show the tiniest sliver of empathy. “For what is worth, I think she still loves you too, even if she hates you more right now.” She paused, her hand resting on the doorknob, but she didn’t turn around, “Next time, please don’t do this to someone else, and don’t do it to her again, either.”

She still loves you too, even if she hates you more right now. He wanted to believe it, needed to believe it. The faint possibility, that you might still love him, it meant he had a chance but it also meant he could screw them up even worse.

He stood slowly, “Thank you,” he repeated,“For...everything.”

She didn’t look at him, but she nodded, opening the door and holding it for him. “Take care of yourself,” she said, and it wasn’t cold or angry—just sad.

By the time he got back to his car, he knew she wasn’t wrong, about any of it.

She hadn’t screamed or cried or made him feel like the asshole he knew he was, that made it worse. If his mom was here, she would’ve smacked him across he head for hurting two amazing women at the same time.

He hadn’t been ready to deal with his feelings for you—not when he started whatever the fuck it was with Sofia, not when he ran into you at that party, not when he defended you at the country club.

He’d been running, hiding, trying to bury everything under distractions that only made him feel emptier.

He leaned back against the headrest, closing his eyes, and for a moment, it was like he was fourteen again, sitting on the edge of his mom’s hospital bed while his mom teased him.

“Come on, sweetheart” she’d said, her voice playful, even through the weariness. “You’ve been talking about her birthday for weeks. I think you like her more than you’re letting on.”

Rafe’s head shot up, and his ears burned red. “Mooomm,” he groaned, dragging out the word, “it’s not like that, she’s my best friend.”

“She’s your pretty best friend,” she’d corrected, smiling at him in that knowing way only she could. “You’re gonna pick out something nice for her, right?”

“I already did,” he mumbled, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket and holding it out like it was some great secret. Inside was a delicate bracelet he’d saved up for, something special, something he thought you’d like.

His mom’s smile had softened, the teasing fading into something more tender.

“She’s lucky to have you,” she’d said, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “Even if you are a little knucklehead sometimes.”

He’d ducked away, embarrassed but secretly pleased, tucking the box back into his pocket.

“M’m not a knucklehead,” he complained, but she just laughed, and it was one of the last times he remembered hearing her laugh like that—free, unburdened, just his mom.

“She’s a good one. You’ve got good taste.” Her smile softened, and the teasing faded into something gentler. “I hope I’m still around when you get married. I’d love to see you happy like that.”

The words were a punch he hadn’t expected. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. What could he even say to that? He wanted to argue, to tell her she would be, but the look in her eyes stopped him.

She knew. She always knew.

He just nodded, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood. “Me too.”

She squeezed his hand. “Promise me something?”

“Anything,” he said without thinking because he meant it.

“When you find that person—really find them—don’t let them go. Not for anything.”

He nodded again.

Years later, standing in a stupid fucking car alone, those words haunted him. He’d found that person, he’d had her and he’d let her go.

“God,” he muttered, the self-loathing reaching a new high, “I’m so sorry, mom.”

As terrifying as it was to think about being a dad, to think about raising a kid when he was still trying to figure out his own life… the idea of losing this chance—of losing you, or the baby, or both, for good —scared him even more.

For the first time in a long time, Rafe Cameron felt something close to hope, but it was tainted in so much fear and uncertainty, that he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

The rest of the day, he forced himself to slow down.

He went back home, cleaned up the disaster of a room he’d been holed up in, and tried to think like a normal guy instead of a walking disaster. He even let Topper come over, though his patience for his relentless commentary wore thin fast.

“You’ve got one shot at this, dude,” Topper said, perched on Rafe’s desk like he owned the place. “If you go in there guns blazing, she’s just gonna think you’re the same old Rafe. And honestly? You can’t blame her.”

Rafe rolled his eyes, but he didn’t argue, Topper was right, as annoying as it was to admit.

He spent the evening coming up with a plan—just enough to make sure he didn’t go in blind. He practiced what he’d say in his head, pacing the kitchen while the sun sank below the horizon. Every time he started to panic, he forced himself to breathe, to remember why he was doing this.

By the time 24 hours had passed, he didn’t feel ready, but he knew he couldn’t wait any longer. The thought of you sitting somewhere, thinking he really didn’t care or that he wouldn’t step up?

That was worse than any fear he had about facing you. So he grabbed his keys, and headed out, this time, he wasn’t running away.

Rafe stood by your door, he’d gotten in the property using the gate’s code, one he’d hoped you had changed to keep him out, but you hadn’t.

He’d never been good at patience, never needed to be—not when he could push his way into anything. But this was different, you were different, always had been.

The wood under his hand was cool, in a way that pissed him off because it reminded him that there was a barrier between you and him, again, always.

He wanted to scream, kick the fucking thing down like the old Rafe would’ve, or instead use the keys you’d given him years ago. Instead, he stood there, swallowing his pride because you were worth it, even if it was tearing himself in half.

His knuckles dragged down the frame, fist clenching as if the pressure would ground him, keep him from losing his shit. He wasn’t here to fight, wasn’t here to make your life harder, no matter how much you thought he was.

The door rattled slightly when he pressed his forehead against it, eyes squeezing shut. “Five minutes. Please.”

Nothing.

His jaw worked, teeth grinding against the words he wanted to say but couldn’t, not if he wanted you to open the door. He couldn’t do this anymore—the back-and-forth, the lies. He wasn’t sure what broke first—your resolve or the knot in his throat.

When you didn’t answer again, he sank to sit on the porch, back against the door like he could still feel you on the other side. You were there—close enough to touch if there wasn’t this fucking door between you.

That was his fault.

He used to be the guy you’d let in without thinking twice, shit, there was a time when he didn’t need to knock.

He was in, part of your life, part of you.

Now, you were holed up, scared of him. Yeah, that ate him alive. He’d earned that fear—every cold shoulder, the slammed door, he deserved it.

He should’ve been different, been better, been someone you didn’t have to lock out. You were scared, and it killed him because it wasn’t just fear, it was him. He was the reason you didn’t feel safe enough to let the secret out, the reason your voice cracked when you told him to leave.

He had put that look in your eyes, the one he couldn’t unsee, no matter how hard he tried.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

He could almost hear you breathing, shakily, like you were preparing yourself to outlast him.

He wanted to push. Fuck, he wanted to shove the door open, make you look at him, make you tell him everything—but that was the old Rafe, he took what he wanted, and bulldozed through whatever stood in his way.

Where had that ever gotten him? Nowhere but here: on the wrong side of a door, the wrong side of you.

He exhaled, long and slow, hand falling limp to his side.

What the hell was he doing? Forcing his way in, forcing answers—that wasn’t going to fix this. It never did. You’d push harder, build the walls higher, and he couldn’t stomach the idea of you hating him more than you already did.

“Okay,” he said quietly, his voice strained. “I get it.”

He didn’t know if you could still hear him, perhaps you were blocking him out completely. Maybe you were curled up with your hands over your ears. He hoped you weren’t crying, though the thought twisted and turned something deep in him.

“I’m not gonna push you,” he said, hating how defeated he sounded. “You don’t owe me anything.”

He ran a hand down his face, swallowing hard, trying to keep it together.

“I just... I just want you to be okay.” He hesitated, then pressed his palm flat against the door, wishing he could reach you somehow, without scaring you, “Baby or not.”

He waited, hoping for something—a sound, a movement, anything, but the silence was absolute.

His heart clenched as he pushed off the door and took a step back, his shoes scraping against the porch. He didn’t want to leave, he never wanted to leave, but this wasn’t about what he wanted. Not anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, almost to himself, "I'm so sorry. I’m sorry it took me this long, okay?”

He stopped halfway, looking back, hoping—praying—for some sign. A light flicking on, the sound of the door creaking open, your voice calling his name, anything.

But the house stayed still, it had already moved on from him.

He didn’t remember deciding to drive to Poguelandia; he felt it in his gut, in the pit of his chest, this pounding certainty that Sarah knew something he didn’t. You wouldn’t tell him—but Sarah? You’d chosen her to drive you home from the hospital just a few days ago.

She was the only person that could lie to his face properly, he couldn’t fucking figure her out, she was always deflecting shit wherever they talked.

By the time he pulled up to the pogues’ little hideaway, the sky had darkened, the place lit only by the glow of string lights and the hum of voices inside. He sat in the truck for a second, staring at the house, willing himself to calm down.

Barging in—loud, pissed, impulsive—wasn’t going to get him what he needed. But fuck, it was hard not to.

He climbed out, slamming the door behind him with just enough force to feel better for half a second. The screen door creaked as he stepped up to the porch, and he could already hear them inside—Sarah’s laugh, JJ cracking some dumbass joke, the rest of them chiming in like they didn’t have a care in the world.

He hated this, hated how they all looked at him, as if he was some ticking time bomb ready to explode. They weren’t wrong.

Rafe knocked, hard and sharp, the laughter inside cut off instantly. Footsteps approached the door, hesitant. A second later, it swung open, and there she was, his sister, looking at him like he was the last person she wanted to see.

“Rafe,” she said, one hand still gripping the door. “What are you doing here?”

He didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “We need to talk.”

Her brows pulled together, suspicion creeping into her expression. “Now? Seriously?”

“Yeah, now,” he snapped, stepping closer, his voice low enough to keep from drawing the others’ attention. “Don’t make me say it in front of them.”

She hesitated, glancing over her shoulder toward the voices in the living room. “Rafe, I don’t think—”

“Don’t,” he cut her off, his tone sharper than he meant. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to soften, to keep it together. “I need you to tell me the truth.”

She glanced back again, then sighed, stepping out onto the porch and closing the door behind her. He was already pacing, hands twitching at his sides, hardly able to contain the energy inside him.

The way she looked at him—wary, guarded—only made it worse.

“What the hell is your problem?” she asked, crossing her arms, like she was already bracing for a fight.

“My problem?” he barked out a laugh, sharp. “You really wanna play dumb right now? You’ve been keeping something from me, Sarah. I know you have.”

Her brows knit together, feigning confusion, “Dude. What’s this about? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit,” he hissed, stepping closer, “Don’t lie to me. I already know, okay? I know about the baby.”

She didn’t say a word, didn’t confirm a thing, just stared at him like he was some wild animal.

“Where did you get the idea that she’s pregnant?”

His mouth opened, then closed. It felt wrong to snitch on Topper when he’d been one making him pry a little more.

“Well?” she pressed, “Answer me. How did you come up with that?”

Saying it out loud felt like admitting he’d been just as reckless and intrusive as everyone expected him to be. His hand ran over his face, trying to stall.

“I didn’t just make it up.”

Sarah’s eyes narrowed, her patience waning. “No shit. So where, Rafe?”

He glanced away, then back, his voice defensive. “Topper said something, okay? He heard—he thought—” Rafe stopped, knowing how weak it sounded.

“Topper? You’re taking life advice from Topper now?”

“He didn’t mean anything by it!” Rafe was quick to defend him, “He just... he mentioned some things, and it got me thinking. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Sarah repeated, “You barged over there because Topper mentioned ‘some things’ ? Jesus Christ.”

His hands flew up in frustration. “What was I supposed to do? Pretend I didn’t hear it? Ignore it and hope it went away? I needed to know!”

“No, you didn’t,” Sarah shot back. “You wanted to know. There’s a difference, and it’s the difference that keeps getting you into this shit.”

“Don’t look at me like that,” Rafe pointed a finger in his direction, “Like I’m crazy or something. I’m not stupid.”

"You’re just not worth the energy right now."

Instead of crying like he wanted to, he let out a dry laugh, pacing back and forth in front of her.

"Right. Sure. I can see it all over you, just say it."

She shook her head, her lips pressing into a thin line. "You don’t know what you’re talking about. Neither does Topper.”

“Stop lying!” His voice rose, loud enough to echo into the dark yard. “Just stop. You know something.”

Sarah’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, Rafe thought he’d finally cracked her. Except instead of giving him what he wanted, she just let out a slow breath, meeting his eyes with a steadiness that made him feel like a child fighting for his favorite toy.

“You want to know the truth?”

“Yes,” he bit out, his chest heaving.

She stepped forward so they were only inches apart. “The truth is, you don’t deserve to know. Not yet.”

Everyone kept telling him the same thing, couldn’t they see he was already trying?

He staggered back a step. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"It means, that whatever you’re looking for, whatever answers you think you deserve, they’re not yours to take. Not until you can handle them without breaking everything you touch."

He flinched, her words striking something inside him, “You don’t get to decide that for me,” he said, almost desperate.

“I’m not deciding anything,” she replied, her eyes never leaving his. “You’ve spent these last few months making everything about you. Your pain, your anger, your needs.”

He glanced away, “So, what? You don’t trust me?”

Her silence was louder than anything she could have said.

“You don’t,” he murmured, the realization bitter in his mouth.

"I don’t," she agreed, “You’re still not the person she needs you to be, and until you can prove you can do that—without me, without anyone holding your hand—you’re better off not knowing.”

“I’m trying. I swear to fucking God, I’m trying. I don’t know how to fix it.”

“She’s scared you’re going to hurt her again—whether you mean to or not. You’re dating someone else, for god’s sake.”

“I ended it. This morning.”

Sarah’s eyebrows lifted slightly, “Doesn’t change the past, Rafe. And it sure as hell doesn’t make everything better overnight.”

Rafe flinched, the words sinking into him like stones. "Why the fuck do you think I’m here? I don’t want to hurt her—I can’t do anything if she won’t even talk to me."

Topper still had that number.

You hadn’t hidden it well enough, he hadn’t done anything with it, but it was tempting. All he had to do was call, just to confirm, he told himself. Not to pry, simply to know for sure.

“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t. This isn’t something you can force your way into. She would never forgive you, please be smart.”

His first instinct was to lash out, fire back some venom-laced retort that would sting as much as her tone. He nodded, swallowing hard.

“Okay,” He dragged a hand through his head, “I know that, I know. But I can’t just sit here, doing nothing. I need to... I need to show her I can do better. That I am better.”

“You need to crawl through hell to understand a fraction of what she’s going through; you need to stop thinking about what you want and start thinking about her.”

His hands fell to his sides, limp, the fight suck out of him. She was right—he hated that she was. This wasn’t about him anymore; it never had been.

“What can I do?”

Her expression softened, not with forgiveness but something sadder—she wanted to believe he could. “You start by fixing yourself, then you wait. Until she’s ready, if she’s ready. You’ve got to mean that, Rafe, you screw this up again..."

"I won’t," he said firmly, cutting her off. "I can’t."

“Okay.”

“What if she’s not ready?”

He had no right to demand more.

“You keep going, keep trying. Not for her, not for anyone else—just for you.”

By the time he got back in his truck, the hurt in his body hadn’t lifted. His mom’s words echoed in his mind one more, “When you find that person, don’t let them go. Not for anything.”

Maybe that started with learning to be the person who deserved to hold on.

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