#maybe i should start a masterlist for this

[lostfracturess]

REMEMBER ME IN SUMMER — SATORU GOJO

pairing — one night stand!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary — six months ago, you left satoru gojo's apartment before sunrise, thinking you'd never see him again. now, trapped in a beach house for a weekend with mutual friends, you're forced to face the man who doesn't seem to remember that night—or does he? between shared walls, heated touches, and games of pretend, you're starting to think maybe one night wasn't enough after all. but in a house full of friends, some things are better left in the past… right?

word count — 9.5 k

genre/tags — beach house AU, summer romance, one night stand to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, tension, awkward reunions, friends gathering, miscommunication, beach vibes, satoru is a little menace in this one

warnings — 18+ ONLY. contains explicit sexual content, alcohol consumption, all characters aged up (mid 20s), language

author's note — hi everyone ! this fic came out of nowhere, and i literally wrote it in three days, but i really love the idea and the summer vibes in this one, even tho i wrote it while it was literally snowing outside, but somewhere on earth it's summer rn, so why not post it lol. hope you enjoy this mess of a summer romance story as much as i enjoyed writing it ! <3 (credit/art)

masterlist + support my writing

The last person you expected to see in Okinawa was Satoru Gojo.

Yet there he was, lounging on the deck of the beach house like he belonged there, white hair catching the sunlight as he laughed at something someone had said. Your heart tumbled over itself as memories of that night six months ago flooded back unbidden.

"You okay?" Maki nudged you with her elbow. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

More like the ghost of past bad decisions. "I'm fine," you managed, gripping your weekend bag tighter. "Wasn't expecting so many people."

The beach house was supposed to be a simple weekend getaway with close friends. But somewhere between planning and execution, it had turned into a "friends of friends" situation to fill the eight-bedroom house Okkotsu's family had offered.

"Yeah, Yuta's cousin's boyfriend invited some people to fill the space," Maki explained, completely unaware of your internal crisis. "That's Satoru over there, by the way. He's actually pretty fun once you get past the whole—" She gestured vaguely at all of him.

You wanted to laugh. Or cry. Maybe both. Because you were already very familiar with how "fun" Satoru Gojo could be.

Six months ago, you'd met him at a bar in Tokyo. He'd been charming and gorgeous, all easy smiles and playful banter. One drink had turned into several, flirting had turned into kissing, and kissing had turned into...

Well.

You'd slipped out of his apartment before dawn, leaving nothing but a lipstick stain on his collar and a dip in his pillow. It had seemed like the right thing to do at the time. You weren't looking for anything serious, and someone like him definitely wasn't the settling down type.

Now, watching him chat lively with your friends like the universe's cruelest joke, you wondered if you should have at least left your number.

"Girl," Maki waved her hand in front of your face. "You sure you're okay?"

Before you could answer, Satoru looked up. His eyes met yours across the deck, and for a moment, your heart stopped. 

But there was no recognition in those sea blue eyes. No hint that he remembered the way you'd gasped his name in the dark, the way his hands had traced every inch of your skin, the way he'd whispered "stay" against your shoulder just before you'd fallen asleep.

He just smiled politely, the same smile he’s probably giving everyone else too, and went back to his conversation.

Right. Of course he didn't remember. You were probably just one in a long line of one-night stands for someone like him. The thought shouldn't hurt as much as it did.

"Come on," Maki said, tugging you towards the house. "Let's get settled in before the others arrive.”

Up close, the beach house was even more impressive. A sprawling three-story mansion of white stone and floor-to-ceiling windows that caught the afternoon light like rippling water, a wraparound veranda with a cozy sitting area led to a private path down to the beach, lined with swaying palms and colourful flowers.

Inside, the house opened into a huge room with soaring ceilings and an open floor plan that made the space feel endless. Ocean views followed you everywhere through the massive windows, and the whole place smelled of salt and lemon.

"The bedrooms are upstairs," Maki said as she led you up a floating staircase. "Most of them are on the second floor, but there are two master bedrooms on the third."

The universe, it seemed, had a twisted sense of humor. Not only did you have to spend the weekend pretending you didn’t know how Satoru's brows draw together when he'd cum, but your room ended up right next to his—the two largest bedrooms on the top floor, sharing a wall and a connecting balcony. Of course.

Your room was bigger than your entire apartment in Tokyo, with a king-size bed draped in soft white linens. One wall was entirely glass, offering an unobstructed view of the ocean, while the other walls were decorated with pictures and minimalist art.

"My god, the view’s amazing!" Maki gushed and threw open the balcony doors. The sound of waves immediately filled the room, along with fresh, salty ocean air. "You can see the whole beach from here." 

But you were too busy staring at the wall next to you, where a door that must lead to Satoru's room was hidden behind a cupboard. You could hear muffled movement from his room, the sound of his laugh drifting through the wall that suddenly felt far too thin and your mind helpfully supplied memories of other sounds he could make, and you wondered if it was too late to fake some sudden illness and go home.

"Yeah," you said, dropping onto the edge of the bed. "Amazing."

Maki flopped down beside you, bouncing slightly on the plush mattress. "I know I've been here like five times already with Yuta, but it never gets old." She rolled onto her stomach and rested her chin on her hands. "Usually it's just us and his family, maybe a few cousins. This is the first time we're doing a friend group thing."

You tried to focus on her words instead of the sound of suitcases being wheeled into the room next door. "How long have you and Yuta been coming here?"

"Since we started dating three years ago. His family does this whole summer tradition thing." She smiled. "First time I came, I was so nervous I barely left the room. Now it feels like a second home." She sat up, crossing her legs. “And since his parents said we could use it this weekend, we thought why not invite friends.”

Through the wall, you could hear male voices chatting and laughing, followed by the sound of a door sliding open. Probably the balcony doors. Your shared balcony. Where he could walk past your windows at any time.

“You’re okay with this, right? Yuta’s friends are actually really fun once you get to know them. Especially Satoru, even tho he can be a pain in the ass.” Your stupid heart tumbled over itself once more at his name. "And single, if you're interested. I could—"

"No!" The word came out louder than intended, and you heard the conversation next door pause briefly. Lowering your voice, you added, "I mean, no thanks. Not really looking for anything right now."

Maki gave you a strange look. "You sure you're okay? You've been weird since we got here."

"Just tired from the drive," you lied and stood up. "Maybe I'll take a quick shower before everyone else arrives."

"Okay..." She didn't sound convinced but got up anyway. "I should go find Yuta anyway, make sure he's not letting Satoru destroy any of Yuta's mum's favourite vases."

You waited until she left before falling with your face first onto the bed with a groan. Perfect. Not only did you have to spend the weekend next door to your one night stand who might or might not remember you, but now your best friend was trying to set you up with him.

Through the wall, you heard Satoru laugh at something, the sound familiar enough to make your chest ache. 

It was going to be a very long weekend.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 

You'd barely finished unpacking when Yuji burst into your room without knocking. "Hey! We're setting up a net for beach volleyball. You in?"

"Ah, I don't really—"

"Everyone's playing!" He was already on his way back to the door. "Even Megumi, and you know how he is about fun."

Before you could form a proper excuse, Maki appeared behind him. "Come on, it'll be fun, the sun is out and it’s better than hiding up here all afternoon."

And that's how you found yourself trudging down to the beach, trying to convince yourself this was fine. Totally fine. Just a fun game of volleyball with friends. Nothing to worry about.

But then the boys started stripping off their shirts. It was like watching some ridiculous scene out of Top Gun as they all shed their shirt in the afternoon heat. But it was Satoru who made your brain go silent completely. 

He pulled his shirt off, and suddenly you were having vivid flashbacks to exactly how that toned chest felt under your hands. The sun caught his hair like a halo, and when he stretched his arms over his head, the muscles in his back shifted in ways that should not make your knees so weak, but here you were, rooted to the spot, your pulse racing as if it had a mind of its own.

"You're staring," Maki whispered next to you.

"I'm not," you said, even though you definitely were. How could you not? It was like someone had taken every beach volleyball scene from every summer movie ever and combined them into one ridiculous moment.

Teams were forming, and with an uneven number, you volunteered to sit this round out. Not that you were particularly eager to participate in the first place. You were perfectly happy watching from the safety of your beach towel, where the risk of accidentally brushing against Satoru's unnecessarily perfect body was thankfully minimized.

The game started, and it quickly became clear that everyone was taking it way too seriously, as Satoru and Yuji seemed to be in some sort of competition to see who could spike the ball more impressively. 

"Show off," you muttered to yourself as Satoru delivered a rather dramatic jump serve, the ball landing dangerously close to your foot. But he must have heard you, because he caught your eye with a wink that made your stomach flutter. "Like what you see?"

"I've seen better," you said before you could stop yourself.

His eyebrows shot up and a slow smile spread across his face. "Have you now?"

Oh god. Were you flirting? This was definitely flirting. You needed to stop staring at the way sweat was making his skin glisten and focus on... literally anything else.

"Pay attention!" Nobara yelled, and Satoru barely managed to dodge the ball she'd spiked directly at his head.

The game continued, growing more competitive with each round. You had to admit, it was entertaining watching your friends become more and more dramatic with each point. One of Yuta’s cousins and Yuji had some sort of rivalry going on, while Maki and Nobara were trash-talking each other.

But it was Satoru who kept drawing your attention. The way he moved was almost unfair and you found yourself following the drops of sweat as they made their way down his neck, remembering how that skin had tasted under your tongue.

"Incoming!"

You looked up just in time to see the volleyball heading straight for your face. Before you could react, Satoru dove in front of you and caught the ball just inches from your nose. The movement sent him sprawling across your legs, his face entirely too close to yours.

You blinked at him for a few moments, then whispered, "Thank you.” But the words came out too soft, almost like they had that night in Tokyo when he'd helped you into a taxi and then convinced you not to take it and instead come home with him.

Time seemed to slow, the crashing waves and voices of the others fading into white noise as Satoru's eyes met yours. For a moment, something flickered in those blue depths—a flash of recognition, perhaps even remembrance. 

His breath caught, barely noticeable, and his hand on your leg tightened ever so slightly. You watched his eyes, saw the exact moment his gaze dropped to your lips, and suddenly you were back in that Tokyo bar, both of you caught in that same magnetic pull.

"You're welcome," he said, his voice so low that only you could hear it. There was something in his tone, a hint of question, like he was trying to place a hazy dream. His thumb brushed against your skin, possibly by accident, possibly not, sending shivers up your spine.

The moment stretched, taut as a bowstring, thick with shared memories—memories you weren't even sure he had. Then someone yelled "Dinner!" from the direction of the house, and the spell broke.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

The sun was setting by the time everyone had showered and gathered around the huge dining table on the deck. Fairy lights twinkled overhead and the sound of the waves could be heard in the background as the chaos of fifteen people trying to organize a meal unfolded.

You'd taken extra care getting ready, telling yourself it was just because of the salt and sand, not because of the way Satoru had looked at you on the beach. You'd chosen a light summer dress that happened to be the exact shade of blue as his eyes—pure coincidence, of course—and had let your hair dry naturally in the sea breeze.

Yuta ended up ordering way too much from the local seafood restaurant, you concluded as you surveyed the spread of food on the table. 

You ended up squeezed between Maki and Megumi, which should have been a relief. Instead, you found yourself very aware of Satoru sitting directly across from you, his hair still slightly damp from his shower, wearing a loose white linen shirt that he should really button up and stop teasing the entire table with glimpses of his toned chest.

"Pass the crab?" he asked, and when you handed him the plate, your fingers brushed. The contact sent a shiver through you, and you could have sworn you saw his breath catch. But then he was turning to laugh at something Yuji said, and you were left wondering if you'd imagined the whole thing.

"—and then he just fell face first right into the sand!" Yuji was saying, gesturing wildly with his chopsticks. "You should have seen it!"

"We were all there, literally two hours ago," Megumi deadpanned.

"The game was rigged anyway," Nobara said, reaching for another plate of grilled shrimp. "You can't put Mr. Perfect over here on a team and expect it to be fair." She jerked her thumb in Satoru's direction.

"What can you do?" Satoru said, his eyebrows knitted together, but a grin played on his lips. "I just happen to be naturally gifted." And then his eyes caught yours once more across the table. 

Heat crept up the back of your neck as you remembered how he'd felt when he'd sprawled across your legs, his skin sun warm and slightly sandy. How his touch had lingered just a fraction too long to be casual. 

Something had changed in his expression, so subtle that anyone else might have missed it. But you'd spent hours that night memorizing his faces. His smirk when he had you right on the edge, his soft smile when you were trembling beneath him, the way his eyes darkened just before he—

Maki snorted. "Yeah, sure." And you looked over at her, breaking the eye contact before you could do something stupid like climb across the table and find out if he tasted as good as you remembered.

When the dinner was over, Nobara suggested to play drinking games, truth or dare to be specific, to which "What are we, fifteen?" Megumi commented but Maki already chimed in with "Never have I ever" and so it was decided.

Your stomach dropped. The last thing you needed was a drinking game where people confessed their secrets. Especially with the way Satoru kept looking at you, like he was one memory away from connecting dots you really didn't want connected.

"I think I'll pass," you said, pushing your plate away. "The sun really did take it out of me."

You gathered your plates and the sound of the others setting up their drinking game followed you into the kitchen—Yuji's voice carrying over everyone else's as he argued about rules, Nobara shouting something about "no questions about exes," and Megumi's long drawn out sighs.

A salty ocean breeze swept into the kitchen through the open wall of windows overlooking the water as you rinsed your plate. "You know," a voice came from behind you, making you jump, "I was starting to think you hate me."

Your heart skipped a beat. You didn't need to turn around to know it was Satoru—would recognize that voice anywhere, had spent months trying to forget how it sounded when it was rough after he’d cum. But you turned anyway, finding him leaning against the doorframe and the kitchen suddenly felt so much smaller. 

"What?" The word came out embarrassingly breathless.

"Let me rephrase, for someone who doesn't hate me, you're doing an impressive job of avoiding me."

"I'm not avoiding you.” You turned back to the sink. "I'm doing dishes."

"Sure. The dishes." His voice got closer, and you could feel the heat of him just behind you. "Though I have to wonder why someone would work so hard to avoid someone they've never met before."

Your hands stilled under the running water. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You've barely looked at me all day." He was close enough now that you could smell his perfume that had lingered on your clothes for days after that night. "Want to tell me what I did to deserve the cold shoulder? Because usually, I at least remember if I've pissed someone off."

Your heart pounded so loudly you were sure he could hear it, but at the same time the irony of his words made you want to laugh. "You haven't done anything," you said, which was technically true. He hadn't done anything wrong. Except maybe be too good in bed and then forget about it entirely.

"No?" His voice dropped lower, and you could feel his breath on your neck. "Then why—" He cut himself off. "Wait. Have we met before?"

You spun around, hands dripping water onto the floor. The motion brought you chest to chest with him, trapped between his body and the counter. "No," you said, too quickly, way too quickly. "Definitely not."

"You sure about that? Because you seem familiar—"

"Must just have one of those faces."

He moved closer still, one hand braced on the counter beside your hip, effectively caging you in. "Is that so? Because I’m sure I’d remember a pretty one like yours." You felt your breath catch in your throat, every nerve in your body screaming. He was going to kiss you, wasn't he? You should probably do something. Like move. Or breathe.

But then he simply stepped back, his smile widening. "Sorry. Must have mistaken you for someone else,” he said and the loss of his warmth felt like whiplash, leaving you cold despite the summer heat that still lingered in the air. You watched him retreat towards the door, casual as anything, like he hadn't just turned your world sideways.

Through the open door, laughter spilled in from the deck, breaking the spell that had held you captive. Satoru paused in the doorway for a moment, silhouetted against the warm light from outside, before disappearing back into the noise of your friends.

You stayed at the sink, trying to convince yourself that the heat in your cheeks was just from the summer air and ignoring the way your heart refused to settle in your chest. What had just happened? You had no idea. But one thing was painfully certain.

This weekend was going to be a long one.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

Next morning, you decided to get up early and have your coffee on the beach before anyone else was awake. Sleep had been hard to come by anyway, with too many thoughts of certain one night stands keeping your mind racing. 

Dawn was just beginning to break over the horizon, painting the sky in orange and gold watercolours and the ocean stretched out before you, quiet and calm, each small wave catching the early light like diamonds.

You'd wrapped yourself in an oversized cardigan against the morning chill, bare feet buried in sand that was still cool from the night before. And of course, because the universe hated you, that's when Satoru appeared.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked, settling into the sand beside you without invitation.

You clutched your coffee mug tighter. "Something like that."

"Yeah, me neither." He stretched his long legs out in front of him, and you definitely didn't notice how his shorts rode up slightly, definitely weren't thinking about how those thighs had felt under your hands. "Keep having these weird dreams."

"Oh?"

"Mmm." As he turned to look at you, the rising sun painted his profile gold, catching his eyelashes. There was something different about him in this light — softer somehow, more like the man who'd asked you to stay than the one who'd cornered you in the kitchen last night. "About a girl in a black dress. Red lipstick. The most amazing laugh I've ever heard."

Your heart stopped.

"Funny thing is," he continued casually, "I can never quite see her face in the dreams. But I remember how she tasted. How she felt pinned beneath me. How she clenching around my fingers. How she said my name when she—"

"Stop," you whispered.

"Why?" His voice was softer now. "Because you don't want to talk about that night? Or because you thought I wouldn't remember?"

You stared at the ocean, unable to meet his gaze. "You didn't seem to yesterday."

"Don’t be stupid. I recognized you the moment you walked into the beach house."

Your coffee nearly slipped from your hands. "What?"

"Did you really think I wouldn't remember the girl who stole my favourite shirt on her way out the door?"

Heat flooded your cheeks, you totally forgotten about the shirt. "Then yesterday, in the kitchen—"

"I wanted to see how long you'd keep pretending." He smiled, the bastard had the audacity to smile at you when he revealed that he was playing you the whole time. "You're cute when you're nervous, you know that?”

"You're mocking me."

"Mocking you?" His eyebrows rose. Then he leaned closer to you, but you still refused to look at him. "I spent six months trying to find the girl with the kind of laugh that makes you feel drunk just hearing it, who left before I could ask for her number—" 

"It was just one night," you interrupted.

"Was it? Because I distinctly remember asking you to stay."

"I couldn't."

"Couldn't? Or wouldn't?"

You finally met his gaze fully, and immediately wished you hadn't. Because he was looking at you the same way he had that night. He was enjoying this, wasn't he? Playing with you, teasing you, making you feel like a flustered schoolgirl. 

"Does it matter?" you asked.

"You're really a bit slow, aren't you?"

You wanted to protest, to tell him exactly what you thought of his arrogant everything, but then Maki's voice carried across the beach, "Breakfast! Come and get it before Yuji eats everything!"

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

The breakfast table was just as chaotic as the dinner the night before. Fifteen people crammed around the table had that effect, especially with Yuji already piling his plate high with pancakes while Nobara complained about him taking too many. 

You'd barely settled into an empty chair when Satoru slid into the seat next to you, as if he hadn't just admitted that he'd been playing jokes on you the whole day before. 

"Can you pass me the syrup?" he asked innocently, but there was nothing innocent about the way his thigh pressed against yours under the table. 

You handed him the bottle without looking at him, trying to focus on pouring your coffee without spilling it everywhere. Which was made all the more difficult when his hand found your knee under the table.

"So what's everyone's plans for today?" Maki asked, passing around a plate of fresh fruit.

You tried to concentrate on the conversation, you really did. But Satoru's hand was inching higher up your thigh, and your brain was shorted out. You kicked him under the table, aiming for his shin.

He didn't even flinch, just smiled wider and continued whatever conversation he was having with Megumi about later activities, all while his fingers danced along the hem of your shorts. You felt a sudden surge of heat, definitely not from the summer sun.

"You okay?" Nobara asked suddenly. "You look a bit flushed."

"Fine!" Your voice came out higher than intended as Satoru's fingers skimmed just slightly under the edge of your shorts. "Just... hot."

"It is pretty warm this morning," Satoru agreed, his tone perfectly pleasant even as his thumb pressed into that sensitive spot on your inner thigh that he somehow remembered. The bastard. You kicked him again, harder this time.

"Did someone just kick the table?" Maki looked around suspiciously.

"Must have been the wind," you said stupidly.

You grabbed his wrist under the table, intending to push his hand away, but he just interlaced his fingers with yours and kept them there on your thigh. It was like he was asserting dominance, staking his claim, and you were suddenly trapped.

"Hey, are you sure you're okay?" Yuji asked through a mouthful of pancakes. "You're acting weird."

"Totally fine," you managed. "Just didn't sleep well."

"Hmm, me neither," Satoru chimed in, his voice all false innocence. "Must be all these weird dreams I keep having." You dug your nails into his hand in warning, but he just squeezed your hand in response, his grip tightening.

"Dreams?" Nobara asked.

"Oh, you know," Satoru began thoughtfully, "the kind that keep you up all night, thinking about... things that got away."

You were going to murder him. Slowly. Possibly with the butter knife you were currently gripping way too tight.

"That's... weirdly poetic for you," Maki said, raising an eyebrow.

"You wouldn't want to know,” he replied, and you felt his fingers inch just slightly higher once more, making you jump and bang your knee on the table.

"Jesus, what is wrong with you two this morning?" Nobara asked, looking between you and Satoru.

Under the table, you finally managed to grab his hand in yours and hold it still. But that backfired when he started playing with your fingers instead, his thumb brushing across your knuckles in a way that made you gasp. You definitely wanted to kill him. Right after you figured out how to breathe normally again.

"So, beach day? I wanna go snorkelling," Yuji said, thankfully drawing attention away from whatever was going on under the table, and everyone agreed. JJust then, Satoru freed his hand from yours and placed it back on your knee before trailing it up your thigh. 

Okay, nope this had to end now.

"I need more coffee," you announced abruptly, standing up so fast your chair scraped against the deck.

"I'll help," Satoru offered, already rising.

"No!" The word came out too sharp, making everyone look at you strangely. "I mean, I'm good. Thanks."

You practically fled into the kitchen, your skin still tingling where he'd touched you. Through the window, you could see him chatting with the others, looking completely unaffected while you were here trying to remember how to make your heart beat normally.

When is this weekend going to end?

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

"You sure you're okay?" Maki asked, swimming up beside you. "You've been weird all morning. Is the sun too much?"

"I'm fine," you said for what felt like the hundredth time today. "I’m not used to be around so many people."

The water was crystal clear, stretching out in various shades of blue that seemed to go on forever. Everyone had eagerly jumped into snorkeling, with Yuji and Nobara already in a heated competition about who could spot the most fish.

You adjusted your mask for the tenth time, trying to focus on anything except how good Satoru looked in just swim shorts. He was a few meters away, the sunlight catching the droplets of water that clung to his ridiculously toned shoulders.

My God. You needed distance. You needed space to breathe, to think, to do anything other than stare at him.

"If you say so." Maki didn't look convinced. "But tell me if something’s bothering you, okay?"

If only she knew. "Sure."

"Guys, come look at this!" Yuji called from where he was floating near some corals. "Rainbow fish!" 

Everyone swam over to where he was pointing, and you had to admit, the sight was beautiful. Countless colourful fish swam through the coral, creating a vibrant palette under the water.

You followed the fish as a sudden pressure against your calf made you flinch. Satoru. He had brushed against your leg. It could have been an accident, a mere consequence of the crowded water, but somehow, it felt like anything but. You knew better. Nothing about Satoru was ever accidental.

You drifted slightly away from the group, desperately needing to put some distance between yourself and Satoru. The vibrant corals blurred into streaks of colour as you swam further from the group, the shouts of Yuji and Nobara fading.

The water a bit away from them was deeper, a darker shade of blue. As you peered down, you noticed the sandy ground was dotted with small stones, and a different kind of life seemed to thrive here. Sea anemones swayed gently in the current, and schools of silver fish, smaller than the ones near the reef, darted in and out of the anemones.

You floated on your back for a moment, gazing up at the sky, a vast expanse of pale blue flecked with fluffy white clouds as the sun warmed your face. It was so peaceful, and you were happy for the small pause amidst the chaos of the house.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

You startled at Satoru's voice right behind you, nearly inhaling water through your snorkel. He'd somehow managed to swim up without you noticing, and now he was close enough that his arm brushed yours in the water.

"What are you doing?" you hissed, pulling your snorkel out.

"I know a better spot.” He nodded towards a more secluded area around the curve of the beach. "If you're interested."

You glanced back at the others, but they were all absorbed in whatever Yuji had found. "I don't think—"

"Come on," he said, already swimming away. "Don't you trust me?"

"Not even a little bit." But found yourself following him anyway.

He led you around a small outcropping of rocks, the current tugging gently at your fins, to a quieter part of the reef. His hand on your arm gently guided you through the water. The water here was somehow even clearer, as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a breathtaking underwater scenery with colourful coral formations that created a labyrinth of archways and caverns with small fish swimming in between.

"How did you—"

"I came here earlier this morning," he said, treading water close to you. "While you were pretending to ignore me after breakfast."

"I wasn't—" You cut yourself off as he dove under the surface, the sunlight playing across his back as he swam deeper.

You followed him down, your breath taken away by the sight. This part of the reef was like something out of a documentary. Swarms of tropical fish swirled around you in ribbons of colour, and the coral itself seemed to shine in the filtered sunlight.

When you surfaced, Satoru was watching you with an annoyingly knowing smile. "Worth following me?"

"It's alright," you said, trying to sound unimpressed even though you were anything but.

He laughed. "You're still trying to play hard to get?"

"I'm not playing anything."

"No?" He swam closer, close enough that you could see droplets of water clinging to his eyelashes. "Then why did you follow me here?"

"To see the fish.”

"The fish." His voice was amused. "Sure. That's why you've been watching me all morning?"

"I have not—"

"You know," he cut you off, moving even closer, his body brushing against yours in the water. "You're pretty when you get all flustered. Just like that night in Tokyo. Same flush you had when I made you cum three times.”

Ha? Had he been keeping count or what? You frantically tried to replay that night in your head — there was the first time against his apartment door, then on the kitchen counter, and... oh god, he was right. The bastard had been counting. The smirk on his face told you he knew exactly what you were thinking about.

You splashed water at him. "We are not talking about Tokyo."

He wiped water from his face, grinning. "No? Should we talk about this morning instead? About how you nearly jumped out of your skin when I touched your—"

You dunked him mid-sentence.

He came up spluttering, pushing wet hair from his eyes. "Okay, I probably deserved that."

"You definitely deserved that."

But he laughed, and despite yourself, you found yourself laughing too. There was something infectious about him, something that made it hard to keep your walls up, dissolving your defenses with unnerving ease, like mist beneath the morning sun.

"We should head back," you said finally. "Before they come looking for us."

"Probably," he agreed, but made no move to leave. Instead, he floated closer, until his chest pressed against yours. "Or we could stay here a bit longer. I could remind you of all the other ways I can make you wet."

Heat flooded your body. "Satoru..."

"Yes?" His hands found your waist under the water, pulling you flush against him. One thigh slipped between yours, and you had to bite back a gasp at the friction. "You know, I still remember exactly how you sound when you're trying not to moan my name."

"We can't." But your body betrayed you, arching into his touch as his fingers skimmed along your ribs, dangerously close to your breast.

"Can't?" His lips ghosted over your lips, his thumb tracing circles on your hip under the water in a way that made you think of how those fingers had felt inside you. "Or are you afraid you won't be able to keep quiet this time?"

Before you could answer, Nobara's voice carried across the water. "Where did you guys go?"

You pushed away from him quickly, already swimming back towards the group. "Coming!"

"This isn't over," he called after you, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

"It never started!" you shot back, but you were smiling too.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

Satoru spent the rest of the afternoon driving you absolutely insane.

After snorkeling, he'd positioned his beach towel suspiciously close to yours, spending an unnecessary amount of time applying sunscreen to his chest and arms. His movements were deliberately slow, borderline pornographic, fingers sliding over muscle in a way that had you remembering exactly how those muscles had felt flexing under your tongue. 

You knew without a doubt he was putting on a show for you—every movement a reminder of how those arms had looked braced above you as he'd fucked you against his apartment door, how they'd felt pinning your wrists to his sheets.

During lunch, he'd somehow ended up next to you again, his bare thigh pressed hot against yours under the table like this morning had taught him nothing. Except this time, his hand didn't just rest on your knee. It spent the entire meal tracing patterns up your thigh, fingertips dancing dangerous close to where you'd been aching for him.

Your breath caught every time his hand "accidentally" slipped under the hem of your shorts, remembering how those fingers had curled inside you, how they'd made you beg.

The afternoon beach volleyball rematch was even worse. He kept finding excuses to touch you—steadying you with a hand on your waist when you stumbled in the sand (the same way he'd gripped your hips while taking you from behind), reaching around you to grab the ball (his breath hot on your neck like when he'd whispered how good you felt around him), his chest pressing against your back, closer than needed (making you remember how it felt to be pressed between him and that apartment door).

But dinner? Dinner was pure torture.

He'd shown up freshly showered, hair still damp and tousled in that way that made your fingers itch to grab it (like you had when he was between your thighs), wearing a dark blue linen shirt that he hadn't bothered to button properly once more and spent the entire meal finding new ways to make you squirm.

He'd catch your eye across the table and slowly lick sauce off his thumb, making you remember exactly how that tongue had felt when he'd spread you open. When passing dishes, his fingers would brush against yours unnecessarily long, making you shiver. At one point, he'd stretched his arms above his head, his shirt riding up to reveal his lower abs that had you gripping your fork so hard your knuckles turned white.

He knew exactly what he was doing, too—you could tell by the smug look on his face throughout the whole dinner. 

Thankfully, no one else seemed to notice anything amiss. They were all too busy with their own conversations, completely oblivious to the way he was systematically dismantling your sanity with nothing more than glances and touches.

Every time you thought you'd gotten yourself under control, he'd do something else — run his fingers through his hair the same way he had when you'd been on your knees in front of him, or bite his lip in a way that had you crossing your legs under the table. By dessert, you were a mess of sexual frustration and murderous impulses. 

He was enjoying this, the bastard. Testing your control, seeing how far he could push before you broke. And the most infuriating part? 

It was working. 

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

After dinner, everyone wandered into the living room in various states of food induced laziness. You'd barely managed to claim a corner of the big couch when Nobara disappeared into the kitchen, returning with an armful of wine bottles and a certain look in her eye that spelled trouble.

"No one move," she announced, setting the bottles on the coffee table. "I have an idea."

"Your ideas usually end with someone crying," Megumi commented from his spot on the floor.

"Or arrested," Maki added helpfully.

"Or both," you muttered, trying to ignore how Satoru had somehow appeared in the armchair closest to your corner of the couch. He'd rolled up his sleeves during dinner, forearms on full display, and you were having a hard time not staring at his fingers. Fingers that you knew from experience felt so good in your mouth to keep you from—

"Never have I ever!" Nobara's voice cut through your dangerous train of thought. A collective groan rose from the group.

"Not again," Megumi said, already trying to get up.

"Sit your ass down," Nobara commanded, pushing him back down. "We're bonding."

"We bonded plenty last night," you Yuta tried, but Nobara was having none of it and before you knew it, everyone agreed.

"Okay, I'll start easy," Yuji said, clearly excited despite his earlier protests. "Never have I ever cheated on a test."

Several people drank, including Satoru—and you, okay let’s be real. 

The questions started innocent enough. Never have I ever broken a bone. Never have I ever been arrested. Never have I ever dyed my hair. But as the wine flowed, the questions got progressively more suggestive.

"Never have I ever kissed someone of the same gender," Maki said, and half the circle drank. "Never have I ever faked it," was Nobara's contribution, and several people groaned but drank.

You were starting to feel a bit hazy, the wine making everything feel warm and soft around the edges. Which was dangerous, because Satoru kept looking at you like he was remembering exactly how you'd sounded that night when you definitely hadn't been faking anything.

"Never have I ever," one of Yuta’s cousins announced then, "had sex with someone in this room." For a moment, no one moved. Then Yuta and Maki drank, of course. And then Satoru raised his own glass slowly and took a long sip.

"Who?" Nobara shrieked, looking around the circle. "Satoru just drank, so someone else here has to—" Her gaze swept over everyone suspiciously.

"Someone's lying," Maki sang, already tipsy enough to find this hilarious. "Come on, fess up!"

You kept your face carefully neutral, even as you felt Satoru's eyes burning into you. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Not this time.

"Maybe it was before any of us knew each other," Yuji suggested, but Nobara shook her head.

"No way. Look at his face!" She pointed accusingly at Satoru. "He's got that look. You know, that 'I know something you don't know' look."

Satoru just smiled lazily from his armchair, swirling the wine in his glass. "Maybe I just like keeping you all guessing."

"You're a dumbass," Nobara said, but the group's attention was already shifting as Yuji launched into the next question, something about falling asleep at work.

You released a breath you hadn't realized you were holding, but made the mistake of glancing at Satoru and he gave you a look that sent a shiver of heat through you over his wine glass. 

God, you were going to murder him. Slowly. Painfully. Preferably with the very wine glass he was currently smirking into. 

Who did he think he was, just casually drinking like that, nearly exposing everything? He could have at least warned you, given you some sign he was about to blow up your secret. But no, he'd just taken that deliberate sip, probably getting hard on watching you squirm as you tried to keep your poker face. 

That sick bastard.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

Sleep was impossible. You'd been tossing and turning for hours, replaying the day's events in your mind—from that moment in the ocean to his deliberate almost-reveal during the game. The walls of this fancy beach house seemed paper thin at night, every small sound amplified in the darkness.

That's how you heard his door open around 2 AM, followed by quiet footsteps heading downstairs.

You waited a few minutes, telling yourself you were just thirsty, that going downstairs for water had nothing to do with knowing he was maybe down there. The wooden steps creaked softly under your bare feet as you made your way down.

Silvery moonlight streamed through the massive windows, creating silver patterns on the marble countertops of the kitchen. Satoru stood at the island, drinking water from a glass, looking unfairly handsome in just sleep shorts and a wrinkled t-shirt.

"Couldn't sleep?" he whispered when he spotted you.

"What's your game, Satoru?" You kept your voice equally low, padding closer. "That thing earlier? During never have I ever?"

"Game? I'm not the one who was afraid of drinking".

"Because unlike you, I don't feel the need to announce our business to everyone."

He set his glass down, turning to face you fully. "Our business? So you admit there's something to announce?"

"That's not—" You caught yourself before your voice could rise. "What are you trying to achieve here? With all the—" you gestured vaguely, "touching and teasing and almost exposing everything?"

He stepped closer, and suddenly the kitchen felt way too small, even though it was like three times the size of your Tokyo apartment. "Maybe I just want everyone to know that night wasn't as casual for me as you seem to think it was."

You felt the weight of his words settle in the quiet kitchen, heavy with meaning you weren't prepared to unpack while moonlight caught his features in a way that made him look softer, almost vulnerable.

"What are you talking about? It was only one night."

"Was it?" He moved closer, until you had to tilt your head back to keep eye contact. "Because I remember asking you to stay. I remember waking up to an empty bed and spent the next six months thinking about why you left."

"I... you were just saying that in the moment. People say lots of things in the moment."

"Do they?" His hand came up to brush a strand of hair from your face. "Is that why you ran? Because you thought I didn't mean it?"

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore how your skin prickled where he'd touched you. "Satoru..."

"You know what I think?" His voice dropped even lower, barely a whisper in the quiet kitchen. "I think you're scared. Not of me, but of the fact that you wanted to stay too."

"That's not—" But the words died in your throat as his thumb traced your jawline.

"Then why are you down here?" He was close enough now that you could feel the heat of his body against yours. "If it was just one night, just something casual, why did you follow me down here in the middle of the night?"

The counter pressed against your back—when had you started backing up?—and Satoru's arms came to rest on either side of you, caging you in. Position achingly familiar, reminding you of how this all started six months ago.

"I was thirsty," you said. You did not even believe yourself as you said it.

His laugh was barely a breath against your skin. "Liar."

And then his mouth was on yours, and god, you'd forgotten how good he was at this. His lips were soft but demanding, one hand sliding into your hair while the other gripped your hip, forcing you close against him. You gasped into the kiss, and he took the opportunity to deepen it, his tongue against yours in a way that made you forget your own name.

It was different from that first night—less urgent, but somehow more intense. He kissed you like he was trying to prove a point, like he was laying claim to every moment you'd denied him these past six months. His teeth caught your lower lip, and you had to bite back a whimper, too aware of the sleeping house above.

"Still want to pretend this is nothing?" he whispered against your mouth, and you could feel his smile when your only response was to pull him back down for another kiss.

His hands slid down to grip your thighs, lifting you onto the counter. You wrapped your legs around his waist, drawing him closer as his mouth moved to your neck, kissing your throat just the way you like it, just the way he somehow remembered.

"Someone could come down," you breathed, even as your fingers tangled in his hair.

"Then I guess you'll have to be quiet." His teeth grazed your skin, making you shiver. "Think you can manage that? Because I distinctly remember you being quite vocal last time."

You tightened your grip on his hair in return, but that just made him groan softly against your throat. "You're stupid."

"Mm, that's not what you said in Tokyo." His hands slid higher under your shirt, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts. "In fact, I remember you saying some very different things—"

You cut him off with another kiss, partly to shut him up and partly because you needed his mouth on yours like you needed air. His fingers teased along your ribs, your back, your thighs, touching you everywhere except where you desperately wanted him to.

But then his fingers found the edge of your underwear, and you had to bite his shoulder to keep from moaning as he slid his fingers inside you, making you cum all over his fingers in seconds—just like that night in Tokyo.

You were done, dizzy, breathless, clinging to him as he stripped your shorts and underwear down your legs. He pushed one leg up your chest as he lowered you back down onto the marble kitchen counter, your other leg still wrapped around his waist. His forehead pressed against yours as he thrust inside, hard, slow, perfect angle—just like that night in Tokyo.

He tossed you around, manhandled you, fucked you against the fridge, threw you onto the couch and fucked you there too. He whispered your name, his voice husky against your ear, every letter a caress, even as he picked up pace, even as his hand closed around your throat, even as you bit into the pillow below to muffle your screams as he made you cum again. Multiple times. In various positions. Using his own cum as a lube for the next round—just like that night in Tokyo.

Afterwards you laid outside on the veranda in a big chair you both shared, gazing up at the stars scattered across the deep velvet sky, countless and impossibly bright. A second later his lips found yours and another second later you were on top of him, underwear pushed to the side and your head thrown back as he watched you chase your release on his dick—just like that night in Tokyo.

And his hand found yours, intertwining your fingers as he ate you out on the stairs just before you wanted to go back to bed, but he wouldn't let you, making you cum again before he carried you off to the laundry room to fuck you one last time for sure good mesure—just like that night in Tokyo.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

Morning came way too early, sunlight streaming through windows you'd forgotten to close. Every muscle in your body ached in the most pleasant way, reminding you of exactly how many surfaces you and Satoru had christened last night. 

Yeah. You were definitely going to be feeling this for days. You winced slightly as you sat up — apparently kitchen counters weren't the most ergonomic choice for certain activities, or the stairs, or the laundry room, or... Okay, we get it.

When you finally made it downstairs, moving perhaps a bit more strangely than usual, Satoru was already at the breakfast table. Because of course he was, looking absolutely perfect and fullyfull rested in a fresh shirt, casually sipping his coffee like he hadn't spent half the night making you bite down on your fist to keep quiet.

"Well, someone looks rough," Nobara commented as you lowered yourself carefully into a chair. "Too much wine last night?"

You caught Satoru hiding a smirk behind his coffee cup. The bastard didn't even have the decency to look tired.

"Something like that," you muttered, reaching for the coffee pot and trying not to wince at the stretch. Your thighs burned in protest of the movement, and you could swear you saw Satoru's smile widening at your slight grimace.

"Must have been some wine," Nobara said, eyeing you suspiciously. "I don't remember you drinking that much during the game."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Yuji asked, looking concerned. "You're walking kind of funny."

"I'm fine, really," you managed. "Too much wine, that’s all."

Maki, who sat next to you, leaned in closer. "Your 'too much wine' is showing," she whispered, pointing to your collarbone. Your hand flew to your neck, suddenly remembering all the attention Satoru had paid to that area—especially that moment on the stairs when you'd begged him to finish what he'd started before anyone heard them, while he sucked a very dark bruise right above your collarbone.

You quickly buttoned up your cotton shirt higher, but from Nobara's growing grin, it was too late. But thankfully, no one commented on it.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

The rest of Sunday passed in a lazy haze, with everyone moving a bit slower thanks to varying degrees of wine headaches. Most of the day was spent sprawled out on beach chairs, hiding behind sunglasses and drinking coconut water that Yuta swore would help with hangovers (but, in fact, did not).

You dozed on and off under an umbrella, trying not to think about how your body still ached in several places from the night before, and enjoyed your last day in Okinawa before you'd return to work on Monday.

When evening rolled around and it was time to pack up, the house became a chaos of suitcases and forgotten phone chargers once more. You were struggling with your bag next to your car, trying to figure out the best angle to lift it into the trunk without stressing your still sore muscles, when Satoru suddenly appeared and took it from your hands without a word.

"I can manage," you protested, but he was already lifting it into your trunk with an effortless ease that really shouldn't be as attractive as it was.

"I'm sure you can," he said, closing your trunk with a soft thud. "But maybe I just want an excuse to do this." 

Before you could ask what 'this' was, he pressed a small folded piece of paper into your palm. You opened it to find a phone number written in his surprisingly neat handwriting.

"Since you didn't stay for it last time," he said softly.

"What makes you think I'll use it?"

"Because this time, you want to stay just as much as I want you to." He leaned closer, his voice dropping so only you could hear. "Besides, I believe we still have a few surfaces in my apartment left to explore."

You shoved his shoulder. "Stop." 

He caught your hand before you could push him again. "Use it. Please?" His voice held a note of softness, an unexpected tenderness that made your heart ache with a strange longing. You nodded, tucking the paper safely into your back pocket.

"Still not announcing anything to everyone tho," you warned as Maki called out that they were ready to leave.

"Yet," he said with an eye roll. Then, before you could react, he pulled you in for one last kiss. It was slower, deeper this time, his hands cupping your face as he kissed you, as if he was afraid he might forget the feel of your lips.

"Someone could see us," you whispered against his lips, even as your fingers curled into his shirt.

"I don't care," he murmured, one hand sliding down to your waist to draw you closer. "Let them see." He kissed you again, shorter this time but no less intense. "Besides, they'll find out soon enough when I take you to this little ramen place in Shibuya I've been wanting to show you."

You pulled back slightly. "Oh? Someone's confident about getting a second date."

"Third, technically," he said. "If we're counting Tokyo. And that thing against the washing machine last night."

"Those don't count.”

"Then I guess I'll have to make the next one special. Maybe dinner first. Then I can show you my apartment. Properly this time, not just the entrance hall and kitchen counter."

"Is that your way of asking me out?"

"That's my way of saying I'm not letting you disappear for six months again." He pressed a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth. "Use my number this time, yeah?"

"Satoru!" Yuji's voice carried across the driveway. "Stop making out and help me with these bags!"

Satoru laughed against your lips, stealing one more kiss before reluctantly pulling away. "Think about it. The ramen place. My apartment. All the surfaces we haven't used yet."

"Go help Yuji," you said, pushing him away even as you smiled. "Before he comes over here."

"Call me," he said, walking backwards with that stupidly handsome smile. "Or I'll just have to show up at your office. Make a big scene. Maybe bring flowers. Really embarrass you in front of all your coworkers."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try me!" He finally turned then to help with the bags, leaving you to shake your head, your lips still tingling from his kisses.

The drive home felt different somehow. Every now and then, your hand would drift to your pocket, fingers brushing over the folded paper with his number, making sure it was still there as the familiar roads back to Tokyo stretched ahead.

The beach house grew smaller in your rearview mirror until it disappeared completely, taking with it the memories of lazy afternoons under the summer sun and heated nights. But other things lingered—the ghost of his lips against yours, the warmth of his hands, the way he'd looked at you like you were something worth waiting for.

Maybe you'd call him tomorrow. Or maybe you'd wait a day or two, just to prove you could. But knowing you, you'd likely message him the moment you set foot in your apartment.

A smile tugged at your lips as you pulled onto the highway, the setting sun painting the sky in strokes of rose and  lavender. Whatever happened next, one thing was for sure — this weekend had changed everything.

And maybe, just maybe, that wasn't such a bad thing.

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author's note — and that's a wrap on our beach house summer story ! thank you so much for reading :)) & thank you again to @/nanamis-baker for beta reading !!

for anyone wondering, yes, she kept the shirt. and yes, he definitely noticed when she wore it to their first proper date to that ramen spot in shibuya.

if you enjoyed this fic, please feel free to leave a comment or reblog. it means so much !! until next time. stay thirsty hydrated, my friends <3

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tags — @fayuki @starmapz @starlightanyaaa @sxnkuna @cocomanga

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@bloopsstuff @snowsilver2000 @ihearttoru @momoewn @yokosandesu

@90s-belladonna @fairygardenprincesss

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

[totalswag]

heyyy can i request angst with drew, maybe they had a fight (totally a misunderstanding bc yk how we get when we’re on our period 😔) and he was just really mean to her, she feels real bad abt and later he apologizes plss 🙏

love your writing!!!

apologies in the after math ⎯ DREW STARKEY

authors note hi, thank you for your kind words. i hope you enjoy reading lovies. so close to 2k of you all, oh my gosh, i'm so grateful!!

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summary its the time of month and you get overstimulated easily. drew and you have a little argument that leads you two for not talking for a bit till he comes into your shared room.

warning(s) being on your period, crying, arguing, cussing.

You started your period yesterday and have not been in the best. Your mood swings vary every single time during your period⎯don’t know what mood you’ll be. You've been lying on the heating pad since four in the morning⎯You're going through it now. 

The cloudy weather makes you feel peaceful, and you're snuggled up on the couch, watching movies to distract yourself from the cramps. This is your typical routine on your period because you don’t have a lot of energy to do anything in the very beginning.

Drew left the gym around seven in the morning and was heading home. He went with Chase, one of his Outer Banks castmates. He texted you that he was only around the corner from the house.

Drew came to the house, put his stuff down, stepped into the living room, kissed you on the cheek, and asked if you wanted to join him in the shower to ease your cramps.

"Come with me, baby; it will feel good," Drew encourages, kneeling in front of you and leaning forward, reaching, softly caressing your lower back.

Drew does everything he can to ensure your well-being during your period. He despised seeing you in pain and discomfort. He secretly brought you coffee, donuts, and your favorite flowers the last time you were on your period. He also respects your boundaries.

"I don't see why not," you shrugged, removing the blanket from your body and folding it before following Drew down the hall to your shared bathroom. 

A few hours go by, you are in one of your negative mood swings. You woke up from an hour nap. Drew and you had a fight⎯the fight began over something pointless. Of course it did. Drew had left his shoes in the middle of the hallway yet again, and as you stumbled over them, something inside you cracked. 

Drew casually dismissed your aggravation with a lazy, "Relax, it's just shoes," lightly chuckling, and you let out a rush of pent-up frustration.

"You're always doing this, Drew! You have no regard for anyone else's space or time. It's like, "Geez, are you even trying?"

His jaw tensed as he put down the drink he was holding. "Are you serious right now?" His tone was cut as a warning. "You're overreacting."

"Don't you dare tell me I'm overreacting," you said, your face flushing. "Maybe if you actually paid attention for once—"

"Fine!" he said abruptly, cutting you off. His voice rose, intense. "Do you want me to pay attention? Fine. But maybe you should quit looking for reasons to start a fight. Not everything is a major issue, you know."

The words felt like a slap. Tears welled up in your eyes before you could stop them, and you fought to let them fall. You stood paralyzed, unable to speak due to the lump in your throat. Drew inhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair and muttering something under his breath.

As time passed you didn’t say a word to Drew—both of you were quiet. You stayed in your shared bedroom scrolling through tiktok. Drew was somewhere in the house doing something.

There was a soft knock at the door, "Hey," Drew said, hesitantly and quietly.

You didn’t answer. Part of you wanted to stay stubborn, but the crack in his tone made your resolve falter. 

The door creaked open, and you could hear his cautious feet. "I'm sorry," he added, bringing his voice closer. "I should not have spoken to you like that. "I didn't mean it."

You peered out from beneath the cover, seeing his sorrowful gaze. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, and his hair was ruffled, as if he had raked his fingers through it in irritation.

"I was out of line," he added, crouching near the bed. "I just lashed out." That is on me."

Drew continues to explain he was even more out of line knowing you are on your period and you have these little moments where you aren’t in the best of moods. He was validating your feelings, putting the blame on himself. However, you shouldn’t react that way to begin with.

The honesty in his tone made your throat clench.

"I'm sorry, too," you said quietly. "I didn't intend to provoke a fight. "I just..." I've been feeling lousy all day and took it out on you. "I should not have done that."

Drew shook his head softly. "No, do not do it. You are free to express how you feel. "I just want to be better for you."

He grabbed your hand and lovingly squeezed it. "Will you come out with me? "I have something to show you."

Curiosity got the best of you. The wonders of what he has for you. Was he doing something to make up for the altercation? So many things running through your mind. 

When you entered the dining room, your breath hitched. The table was set with your favorite dinner, and candles flickered softly in the dark lighting. An arrangement of your favorite flowers was placed in the center, their beautiful fragrance filling the air.

"I know it doesn't erase what I said," Drew replied softly, caressing the back of his neck. But I wanted to make it up to you. You mean everything to me, and I detest the thought of you thinking I don't care,” wrapping his arms around your waist, kissing your cheek a few times.

Your eyes welled up again, but this time with glad tears. You hugged him firmly and buried your face in his chest.

"Thank you," you replied softly. "This means everything to me."

He kisses the top of your head and wrapped his arms around you. "You mean everything to me," he said quietly back.

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[rothpie]

❝FIDELITY❞ |part14

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

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

Warnings: none (I guess)

previous - next

Witnessing Something You’ve Never Experienced 

There are moments in life—like when someone’s laughter makes you laugh, when you share their joy, or when you cry together—that are impossible to put into words. Watching someone else’s happiness is priceless. Maybe that’s one of the best things about being human: feeling their happiness as if it were your own. 

These were the simplest, purest emotions. And yet, when you saw Cleo and Pope smiling at each other, it was hard to keep your own happiness in check. It almost felt like it wasn’t their story, but yours. Like their vows added something to your life, too. 

You’d never been married. In fact, you’d never even come close to it. But as you listened to Cleo and Pope exchange vows, for a moment, you forgot about that emptiness inside you. Standing barefoot on the moonlit beach, watching them hold hands, it felt like everything was exactly as it should be. 

A gentle breeze mingled with the sound of waves breaking on the shore, creating a serene melody in the background. Standing on the sand, you realized how special this moment was. Everyone around you was smiling, even JJ. 

He stood a little apart from the crowd, lazily swirling a beer bottle in his hand as he watched the ceremony. His trademark smirk was there, but something about him seemed softer. As if he was sharing in the happiness in his own way. 

“You ready to head back?” JJ’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. He had come up beside you, gesturing toward the lights at the edge of the beach with his beer bottle. 

You weren’t in the best shape, to be honest. 

You’d only known Cleo and Pope for four years—a long time, but not forever. You met them through JJ, yet your bond with them felt deeper than just friendship. Cleo, especially, felt like a sister to you. You loved them both and wanted to share in their happiness. 

It had been years since you’d felt like this. Your attachment to alcohol had ended alongside everything with Liliana, or so you thought. But now, Liliana was weaned, and you’d found a rare moment to be on your own. 

Cleo’s wedding wasn’t a grand affair; it was intimate, with close friends, family, and a few others. Your parents had even come. While they wished the same happiness for you, they also took Liliana with them when the reception started. It was their way of giving you a rare night of freedom. 

It wasn’t lost on you that they were doing this for you. Liliana was your baby, but in their eyes, you were still theirs. It was one of the rare times you could just be. A night to be young again. 

And JJ—well, you could tell your parents were secretly grateful for him too. They’d told him as much when they thought you weren’t listening. Your dad had even helped him out with work, quietly making sure JJ stayed on track. 

You were thankful for this time. For a little while, it felt like the old days. Not reckless or wild, just... young. 

And maybe you’d gone a little overboard. You’d been drinking and dancing all night. You weren’t sure how much, but it was enough to notice some concerned glances from people here and there. 

Still, it wasn’t just the alcohol. There was tension in you that you hadn’t let out. You hadn’t told JJ that you’d seen Rafe earlier. You just wanted to forget. But seeing him—especially when you were with your daughter—was a heartbreak all its own. 

After a moment of hesitation, you nodded. You didn’t feel sharp enough to respond with words, yet somehow, you felt like a genius. “I miss my house,” you mumbled, kicking at the sand. 

JJ chuckled, shaking his head. “Which house?” 

He grabbed your wrist gently, steadying you as you stumbled a bit. His touch moved to your hand, and you couldn’t help but follow his movements, your gaze dropping to the sand. 

“All of them,” you replied, your voice a little dreamy. Your answer made JJ laugh harder, the sound blending into the soft music playing in the background. His laughter—it suited everything, like it was a perfect fit for the moment, maybe even better than the music itself. 

“All of them? How many houses you got, sweetheart?” he teased, keeping a steady eye on you as if ready to catch you if you fell. 

“Two.” You held up two fingers to show him, wobbling slightly. JJ’s hand darted out to catch you by the arm while his other hand held yours firmly. 

“Yep, that’s our sign to head out,” he said with a smirk. His hand slipped to your waist as he pulled you closer, keeping you upright. Your bodies brushed against each other, and in your tipsy state, you didn’t have the energy to fight the thoughts that came next. 

You couldn’t help but look at him. JJ was one of those people you just had to look at. Admire. Worship, even. Had he really been right in front of you this whole time? What a snack. 

“So, one house is in Asheville,” he said, steering you toward your table to grab your bag. “Where’s the other one?” 

“You and Liliana.” 

JJ’s eyebrows shot up as he looked at you, his mouth opening slightly like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. For a moment, he froze, trying to process what you’d just said. 

Then his gaze shifted, and he waved at Sarah and Pope, who were chatting nearby. He clearly chose to distract himself. It was just drunken rambling, right? No need to read into it. 

He knew better than to press the issue. You were drunk. That was all there was to it.

And while you were utterly drunk, he was completely sober. He’d only had one beer, because if you were falling apart like this, someone had to stay grounded to take care of you. The trip home had to be safe. That was his job, and he’d always make sure of it. 

You left the beach together, walking slowly. As the sand turned into a gravel path, the wind picked up, biting at your cheeks. JJ shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and tilted his head back to gaze at the sky. Almost entirely leaning on him, you looked up with glassy eyes. “The stars look so beautiful, don’t they?” you asked, your voice carrying an unusual softness.

The house you’d rented wasn’t far. You had intentionally chosen a place close to the beach, for Liliana. When you arrived, JJ opened the door, turning to flash you a small smile. “Come on, let’s get inside. The wind’s going to make you sick,” he teased with a playful tone.

As you stepped inside, the happy scenes from the wedding were still vivid in your mind. Something felt different about tonight, though you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. 

JJ couldn’t believe you had made it all the way home. He was sure you’d pass out halfway through, but here you were, still standing—well, barely. He held you steady, watching as you stared at the house like you were seeing it for the first time. You smiled faintly as you spoke. 

“I can’t believe how much you drank. I mean—I didn’t even know you could drink that much.” 

He raised an eyebrow as you pursed your lips, clearly preparing a rebuttal. Despite your foggy brain, you still managed to respond. “I only had two shots,” you said confidently, holding up your fingers to emphasize your point. The attempt, however, was far from accurate.

JJ reached out to steady your hand, trying to refocus you. “Two shots and, what, a whole bottle of vodka?” he replied with a smirk. 

You threw your head back, laughing loudly. JJ’s lips quirked into a grin as he listened to your laughter, his hand brushing against your back in a comforting way. He had watched you all night—dancing with him, going wild with Cleo, chatting with Sarah—and at every moment, a drink had been in your hand, always nearing empty. 

“No!” you exclaimed, poking his chest with your finger as if trying to push him away. JJ didn’t budge an inch. Instead, when you stumbled back, he placed both hands on your waist to steady you.

“Alright, come here,” JJ said gently, his tone calm yet firm. He figured you needed to sit down before you hurt yourself. “Let’s get your shoes off before you end up face-first on the floor,” he added, a teasing lilt in his voice. He guided you back to lean against the wall. 

He crouched down to untie your shoes quickly, his movements brisk but careful. It was obvious he was afraid you’d trip and hurt yourself. When he finished, he set your shoes by the door and stood up. His gaze immediately met yours. You had been watching him the entire time, tracking his every move. 

You threw your arms around his shoulders and looked at him with a drunk, adoring smile. “Your eyes are blue,” you said in awe, studying his face as if it were the first time. 

JJ raised his eyebrows, his lips parting slightly. He wanted to pull back and figure out if you were serious, but then he remembered how drunk you were. His lips twitched into an amused grin. “Wow. Five years of living together, and you’re just now noticing?” he teased.

You had no idea what you were doing. You felt like a fool, detached from any sense of self-control. Your thoughts were jumbled, and logic had left the building. You leaned in closer, your heavy-lidded eyes fixated on his face. “Your dimples… they’re really cute,” you whispered.

JJ took a deep breath, shaking his head slightly. His heart raced, which annoyed him more than anything. He tried to pull away from your embrace, turning his head as he gently pried your arms off his neck. “Yeah, you’re definitely drunk,” he muttered, letting your hands drop but still holding onto your wrists to keep you steady.

Suddenly, your breath hitched, and JJ’s attention snapped back to you. His expression shifted as he watched your face, now filled with a mix of worry and sadness. “I didn’t kiss Liliana,” you said in a mournful tone. “Before bed—I didn’t give her her goodnight kiss. I have to do it.”

JJ froze for a moment, trying to process your words. Liliana had been gone for hours, staying with her grandparents. She wasn’t even in the house, and there was no way you’d remember that right now. “Hey, hey. Liliana’s asleep, okay? You can’t kiss her now. You’ll wake her up,” he said soothingly, doing his best to calm you down. He didn’t dare remind you she wasn’t there; that would only lead to a meltdown.

You rested your head on his shoulder, your voice soft and sad. “But I needed to kiss her…”

JJ smiled faintly, brushing his hand over your hair. “It’s alright, sweetheart. You can kiss her in the morning. Let her sleep now.”

Lifting your head, you looked at him intently, your gaze almost too focused for how drunk you were. JJ frowned slightly, sensing the shift in your demeanor. There was something behind your eyes—something determined. It made his chest tighten with unease, a feeling he couldn’t quite place. 

“You’re awake,” you said suddenly, as if realizing a profound truth. 

JJ raised an eyebrow, looking at you in utter confusion. He took a step back. "Huh?"

Despite his retreat, you stepped closer. JJ swallowed hard as you approached, suddenly feeling trapped—vulnerable, even. Thoughts he had no business entertaining were creeping into his head. After all, it was you. You. His friend. His roommate. Yet, he could tell by your innocent tone that you meant nothing by it, and maybe that’s what he hated the most—because those innocent words were pulling his mind into places it didn’t belong. 

“You’re awake, so I can kiss you,” you said, your voice far too nonchalant for the chaos it stirred in him.

JJ quickly stepped back, holding up a hand to stop you, his face turning away as if looking at you directly might break his resolve. “Let’s get you to bed,” he said, his tone soft but firm. You were drunk, and there was no way you meant what you were saying. If you were sober, those words wouldn’t have left your lips. No matter what you said, he was getting you to bed and leaving you there to sleep it off.

“Why? If I can’t kiss Lily, can’t I kiss you? You’re awake! Besides—this is just a goodnight kiss,” you insisted with a faint smile, your tone bordering on teasing. 

Those words sparked something deep within JJ, something unfamiliar and unsettling. You two had never crossed this kind of line before. He’d never seen you look at him like that. And for the first time in years, you were drunk. He knew you hadn’t touched alcohol since Liliana. He also knew how much of your life had been shaped around her absence. Tonight, though, was different—you were drunk, and it was obvious your body wasn’t handling it well.

Even though he knew your words were soaked in alcohol, JJ couldn’t stop the heat creeping up his neck. It wasn’t just what you said—it was how it made him feel. 

JJ exhaled and shook his head, a defeated sort of gesture. He knew you meant nothing by it. There was no way this was anything more than innocent—it had to be. Besides, you were drunk. “Alright, fine. You can kiss me on the cheek,” he said, hoping to diffuse the moment, to get you to let this go. You were speaking without thinking, but his brain was taking your words to places he wished it wouldn’t.

JJ turned his head slightly, offering his cheek as he braced himself, standing as still as a statue. It wasn’t as if this was the first time you’d kissed each other on the cheek. It was a friendly gesture, a sign of affection. You were close—roommates raising a kid together. You spent almost every waking moment together. It was impossible not to care deeply for each other—as friends, of course.

But this? This felt different. Something about the situation was wrong. Whether it was the alcohol he’d had earlier, his own overthinking, or something entirely to do with you, he couldn’t say. All he knew was that, for the first time since you’d moved in, his mind was wandering into territory it had no business exploring. It was like he was just now realizing—or maybe finally acknowledging—that something had shifted between you two.

JJ couldn’t shake the unease in your presence tonight. He was used to being around you, practically glued to your side at all times. But this? Drunk you? That was a new one. Well, aside from those wild parties in your younger days, though even then, he’d usually seen you from a distance—usually surrounded by people. Or… with that fuck-face.

And now here you were, just the two of you, and it felt like uncharted waters. JJ had been drunk around you before, sure, but he could hold his liquor. He didn’t drink often, but when he did, it wasn’t new territory for him.

JJ glanced at you out of the corner of his eye as you took another unsteady step closer. His hands were still on you, steadying you, keeping you upright. He felt his tension rise with every passing second, his stomach twisting in knots. All he wanted was to let you kiss his cheek, put you to bed, and be done with this excruciating moment.

Then he felt it—your fingers slipping from his grip, brushing against the stubble on his freshly-shaven cheek. The light, almost hesitant touch sent a shiver down his spine. He couldn’t even turn his head fully to face you; he just stood there, keeping his gaze flitting between you and the floor. Your touch was nearly enough to make him close his eyes and lean into it, but the reminder of your drunken state snapped him back to reality.

As you swayed closer, your weight pressed into him. JJ quickly steadied you, hearing the soft giggle escape your lips. “Oops,” you muttered, your laughter muffled against his chest. 

He hated this—hated everything about it. Hated the situation, his thoughts, and most of all, how he was feeling. For the love of God, you were drunk, and the thoughts running through his mind were nothing short of sinful. How had he sunk so low as to let his brain spiral like this over a drunk woman—his best friend?

When your lips finally pressed against his cheek, JJ exhaled shakily, his gaze dropping to the floor as his heart pounded furiously in his chest. You’d kissed him on the cheek plenty of times before, but this? This felt different. This kiss lingered too long, carrying a weight he couldn’t explain—a spark that was entirely new and unsettling.

When your lips didn’t move away, JJ gently pulled back, clearing his throat as he steadied you by the waist. As he turned his head back toward you, his eyes briefly—and accidentally—flicked to your lips. He quickly dragged his gaze back up to your eyes, cursing himself internally. He shouldn’t have looked. 

Clearing his throat again, JJ felt his face flush with heat. His prayers for composure were no match for the image of your lips—now cherry red, like they’d been painted that way. It wasn’t the lipstick you’d put on earlier. That had smudged and faded hours ago. Had your lips always been this red? Or was this something he was only now noticing? 

The moment he realized his eyes had drifted back to your lips, it felt like death itself. He needed to stop this. It was weird—no, terrifying. You were drunk, and he was completely sober. 

JJ took a deep breath and looked at your face. It was like you were staring straight into his soul, as though trying to pull everything he was out of him with just your gaze. "Okay," he muttered, trying to compose himself. He leaned on the thought that you'd forget this by morning, that you wouldn't remember any of it. If you were sober, he wouldn't dare let his eyes linger on your lips this long. "Well, since we’ve got the goodnight kiss out of the way—" 

JJ stopped mid-sentence when he felt your hand on the collar of his shirt. The proximity was already absurd—he’d only been holding onto you to keep you from falling—but this? This was nowhere near what he’d expected. Your grip tightened, and before he knew it, you pulled him closer. His eyes widened, and in the next instant, he found himself on your lips. 

His mind blanked. He didn’t even have the sense to close his eyes, as if keeping them open might confirm the absurdity of this moment. It couldn’t be real—it shouldn’t be real. 

The shock rendered JJ motionless. This wasn’t a passionate kiss. You weren’t moving; you just held your lips against his. Yet JJ was sure he was about to have a heart attack. 

Just the touch of your lips sent his heart into a frenzy. He was either dying or dreaming, and neither seemed plausible. 

But it didn’t take long for reality to sink in. He pulled away quickly, stumbling back. His hand darted out to steady you, but he didn’t dare come any closer. He had no idea what to make of what had just happened—or how he was supposed to feel about it. 

God, you were drunk. So drunk. 

“Stop,” he said firmly, though his voice shook slightly. He’d messed up. This wasn’t supposed to happen—none of it. And yet he swore he could still feel your lips on his. He regretted this. You wouldn’t remember it tomorrow, but he wouldn’t forget. “You’re going to regret this when I tell you in the morning.” 

He wouldn’t tell you. He couldn’t. Losing your friendship wasn’t a risk he was willing to take. More than that, he couldn’t bear the thought of being cut out of your life—or Liliana’s. No, he couldn’t lose the family he’d found. Not over one night. 

The words had only been meant to stop you, to get you to back off and let the moment end. He needed you to listen. Then he could put you to bed and get through the night without ever feeling your lips again, without remembering how soft they were or the feeling of having you this close. 

Shit. 

“I won’t,” you said stubbornly. 

JJ squeezed his eyes shut, running a hand over his temple as if trying to think straight. You had no idea what you were doing. You were drunk. You’d regret kissing him. And if he ever saw that regret on your face, he didn’t know how he’d handle it. 

Even though you were the one who kissed him, he still felt responsible for this. He shouldn’t have let you get this close. He should’ve gotten you to bed and let you sleep it off. 

JJ took a steadying breath, searching your gaze for something—anything—that might reassure him. Maybe a glimmer of awareness, a sign you understood what was happening. But you were too far gone. You wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning. And even if you could think straight, the kiss was wrong. And you saying you wouldn’t regret it? That was wrong too. “You will,” he said softly but firmly, his voice unwavering. He wrapped an arm around yours and started guiding you to your room. He just wanted to erase this moment from his memory. 

Not because he didn’t like it—he couldn’t let himself think about that. Whether or not he liked it didn’t matter. You were drunk, and you’d crossed a line. Worse, he’d let you. If you were sober, you wouldn’t have kissed him or gotten this close. And that hurt more than anything else. 

You went quiet as you leaned against his arm. The silence persisted as he helped you to the edge of the bed. Gently, JJ eased you down to sit. You stared at the floor, saying nothing. JJ hated the silence. This shouldn’t have happened. It wasn’t supposed to happen. Finally, his voice broke the quiet, low and strained. “This is wrong... We’re friends.” 

JJ knelt in front of you, meeting your eyes. He knew that. You knew that. But the weight of your actions was already heavy on him. You’d kissed him, and he was already regretting it. He couldn’t stop himself from wondering how you’d feel when he told you in the morning. Would it change things between you? He wasn’t ready to lose you—or Liliana. He wanted a lifetime of memories with both of you, of raising her together and laughing through it all. He couldn’t lose that. “Yeah, we’re friends,” you murmured softly. 

The silence stretched again, and then, out of nowhere, your shoulders began to shake. You couldn’t stop the tears from spilling, your quiet sobs breaking the stillness. JJ’s eyes widened in shock. Seeing you cry tore at something inside him. He didn’t even know why you were crying. Maybe a piece of your clarity had returned. He didn’t want that—not now. 

Hesitating for only a moment, JJ pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. “Hey, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” he asked, his voice laced with worry. 

You didn’t answer. JJ tilted his head, resting his forehead against yours. The warmth of your breath ghosted over his skin as you shifted. When your nose brushed against his, JJ inhaled sharply, his eyes fluttering shut. His hands slid down your back, settling at your waist. You still didn’t speak, but your movements spoke volumes. JJ exhaled shakily, like he’d just lost a battle with himself. “You need to stop…” he whispered. 

Suddenly, you lifted your head, and the space between you seemed to vanish. JJ’s breath hitched. He wanted this to stop—he needed it to. He knew he wouldn’t be able to control himself if it didn’t. He’d never thought of you this way, never imagined having your lips on his. But now that it had happened, everything felt… right. 

Except it wasn’t. 

You were drunk, and this was so, so wrong. 

But when your lips touched his again, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. 

When JJ felt your noses brush again, he let out a shaky breath, unable to open his eyes and meet yours. He wasn’t even sure who had started it this time. But when your lips met again, JJ felt... found. Like he’d discovered something he hadn’t known he was searching for. In that moment, he pushed everything else aside—all the rules, all the lines he wasn’t supposed to cross—and tightened his arms around your waist. Instead of pulling back, he gave in, even if just for a moment.

As your lips moved together in perfect rhythm, JJ could feel his heartbeat pounding in his chest. If he’d known it would feel this right, he wouldn’t have waited until now to kiss you. Hell, he’d have done it ages ago. When your hands gripped his collar and tugged him closer, JJ didn’t resist. Taking advantage of the way you shifted back on the bed, he let you guide him, following your lead as his hand instinctively slid to your neck.

The kiss broke momentarily as you both gasped for air, but before either of you could even think, your lips found each other again. JJ forgot everything—every rule, every fear, every reason this wasn’t supposed to happen. The only thing that mattered was you. Just you. 

When your fingers tangled in his hair, JJ realized he was completely at your mercy. You were insatiable, like you couldn’t get enough of him. And when your kisses turned more fervent, more desperate, he understood the shift. This wasn’t a sweet, affectionate kiss anymore. This was raw, unrestrained desire. When a soft, breathy moan escaped your lips, JJ froze.

Self-loathing hit him like a freight train. He couldn’t believe he’d let it happen again. With a jolt of awareness, he pulled back abruptly, putting distance between the two of you. As he took in the scene—the two of you on the bed, him hovering over you—he felt sick to his stomach. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t let himself take advantage of you like this. 

“You’re drunk,” JJ said, his voice unsteady, his breath uneven. “You don’t know what you’re doing.” His hands trembled as he held himself back. Deep down, he wished you weren’t drunk. He wished this could be real.

Your gaze met his, and tears brimmed in your eyes. “I’m sorry,” you said, your voice cracking. But JJ knew he was the one who should be apologizing. Tomorrow morning—if he ever found the courage to bring this up—it would be on him. He was the one who was sober. He was the one who should’ve known better. He shouldn’t have let you pull him in, shouldn’t have let himself fall for it.

JJ took a deep breath and carefully helped you lie back on the bed. He brushed your hair back gently, his chest heavy with regret. Not regret for kissing you, but for doing it when you were drunk. For crossing a line when you wouldn’t even remember it. “Get some sleep, okay?” he said softly, trying to push the guilt from his tone.

As he started to pull away and leave the room, you caught his hand. “Don’t go,” you whispered.

JJ swallowed hard, his throat tightening. He shook his head slowly, refusing to look at you. “I can’t,” he said quietly. Staying would only make it worse—make him hate himself even more. But then he looked at you, and his resolve crumbled. He cursed himself silently. This wasn’t supposed to happen. None of this was.

“Please,” you said, your voice barely audible. JJ’s eyes fluttered shut, his jaw clenching. The second he walked out of that room, he knew he’d be sick. He couldn’t believe he’d let things go this far, couldn’t believe he’d put you in this position. You were his friend, and you wouldn’t remember any of this. Not a single moment.

God, he wished you were sober. If you woke up and remembered everything—if you looked at him with disgust—he wouldn’t be able to handle it. He couldn’t.

“Fine,” he said, defeated. He was terrified—terrified of you waking up and hating him. “Close your eyes,” he murmured without thinking. He couldn’t take the way you were looking at him. That look only made the guilt gnaw at him even more.

You did as he asked, your eyes fluttering shut. JJ let out a long, heavy sigh and sat down beside you. He leaned his head back, running a hand through his hair as he muttered to himself under his breath, “Why do you make me hate myself like this...”

It was close to 3 a.m., and you still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. You’d been awake for hours, but the dull ache in your head and the strange fog clouding your mind refused to lift. Some parts of last night were blurry—there were flashes of laughter, dancing, the wedding… but the details were frustratingly out of reach. 

You sat curled up on the corner of the couch, sipping your coffee slowly, the warmth doing little to ease your unease. Across the room, JJ was in the kitchen, fiddling with the kettle as if it was the most intricate puzzle in the world. Normally, you were used to his easygoing, morning-person energy, but this wasn’t it. His movements were precise, almost tense, and his face carried a weird stiffness. You couldn’t make sense of it. 

“My head hurts,” you finally said, breaking the suffocating silence. You were tired of his strange behavior. 

JJ glanced over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. With a faint, almost forced smile, he said, “Not surprised.” But his tone betrayed something deeper, something unsaid that hung in the air. 

“Not surprised?” you asked, frowning. “You’re acting weird, JJ.” 

He shrugged, putting the kettle back down and leaning against the counter. His fingers raked through his hair, a telltale sign that something was bothering him. Still, he avoided your eyes. “I’m just… tired. You know, long night and all.” 

But you knew it wasn’t just exhaustion. You could feel it. “Did something happen?” you asked, studying his face carefully, hoping to find a clue. 

“No,” he said too quickly, his voice sharp before softening a beat later. “No, really. Just… the usual.” 

His vague response only unsettled you further, but you decided not to press him. Not right now. Your headache and the foggy haze in your mind were draining enough without getting into a confrontation. 

When you glanced at the clock and noticed how late it had gotten, you suddenly straightened. “I need to pick up Liliana,” you said abruptly. 

JJ hesitated, his head turning to look at you like he was searching for something in your expression. “Alright,” he said cautiously. “Are you good to drive?” 

“Yeah,” you replied, grabbing your bag and standing up. “She’s probably missing us by now. I should get going.” 

JJ didn’t respond right away, just nodded slowly. His gaze stayed on you, heavy with something unspoken. It was like he wanted to stop you, to say something, but couldn’t find the words. 

As you headed to the door and bent down to put on your shoes, you could still feel his eyes on you. It was unnerving. Pausing for a moment, you glanced back at him. “We’ll talk later,” you said, keeping your tone light but purposeful. 

JJ gave another nod. “Yeah. We’ll talk.” But his words carried a weight far greater than they should have. 

Sliding into the driver’s seat of your car, you couldn’t shake the strange feeling in your gut. JJ’s behavior, your pounding headache, and the scattered, blurry memories from the night before were all swirling together, leaving an uneasy knot in your stomach. 

As you started the car and pulled onto the road, your phone lit up on the passenger seat. The screen showed Sarah’s name flashing as she called. Reaching over, you grabbed the phone, the knot in your stomach tightening as you answered. 

Rafe hadn’t felt this vulnerable in a very long time. When he left Sarah’s house days ago, his steps were slow and heavy. Inside, a storm was raging. His thoughts collided, each crashing harder than the last. Talking to Sarah had been like a slap in the face with the truth he’d tried so hard to avoid. Hearing the things he didn’t want to hear—it had turned his whole world upside down. 

Once, he’d believed the life he was living was normal. Or maybe he’d just convinced himself of that. The life he’d shaped with his own choices, every step calculated to reach his goals... He had sacrificed everything for them. Absolutely everything.

And now, there was an emptiness inside him. He’d achieved the goals he’d fought for with relentless ambition and passion, but what had they given him in return? Monotony. A quiet restlessness. His soul was weighed down with a sense of suffocation he couldn’t even admit to himself. 

The moment he saw you and Liliana, everything changed. That’s when it all hit him. The scene played over and over in his mind—your icy gaze, Liliana’s delicate features that mirrored his own... her tiny hands, her green dress... Those images were burned into his memory. No matter what he did, he couldn’t erase them. 

He couldn’t sleep peacefully anymore. The moment he closed his eyes, he found himself lost in a vivid dream. He was holding you in his arms, playing games in the garden with Liliana. In those dreams, he clung to the illusion of a life he might have had, a life as a father with his own family. But every morning, he woke to the harsh truth. You weren’t his. Liliana wasn’t his. That life wasn’t his. 

Even throwing himself into work hadn’t helped. His mind wandered constantly, his thoughts overpowering him. There seemed to be no escape. For days, he’d stopped working entirely. Maybe, for the first time in his life, he allowed himself to just stop. To think. To try to figure out what was right. 

But he never expected to see you again. For four years, there had been nothing from you. He’d lost count of how many times he’d tried to find out where you or your family were. But you’d completely cut him off. You’d disappeared from his world. 

And now, after seeing you again, he didn’t know what to do. Should he fight to bring you back into his life, or was he meant to keep paying for the mistakes of his past? 

Every night, he dreamed. He dreamed of making you and Liliana part of his world, even though he knew it was impossible. In those dreams, Liliana’s laughter echoed, and you smiled at him. But that smile had been lost to him in the real world long ago. 

Calling Sarah had been a desperate act. He just needed to hear something—anything that could help. Again and again, he’d been met with Sarah’s irritated tone on the other end of the line. “What do you want now?” she’d asked, her exasperation unmistakable. 

And Rafe’s answer was always the same: “Hey... I just... I need a favor.” 

Rafe had realized his life was an illusion. The structure he thought he wanted was nothing but a trap. Seeing you had made that painfully clear. The dream of a life he might have had—holding you in his arms, hearing his daughter’s laughter, playing with her—had carved itself into his mind. But could those dreams ever become reality? Or had the wreckage of the past already swept everything away? 

These questions had no answers, but Rafe had made a decision. For the first time, he felt truly lost and defenseless. The only promise he made to himself was not to repeat his mistakes. Or at least, this time, he would try. 

To start, he knew he needed help. Calling Sarah, asking for her help—it meant swallowing his pride, but there was no other choice. “I just need to know where she is, Sarah,” he’d pleaded over the phone, his desperation seeping into every word. 

Sarah’s reply had been sharp and definitive. “Cut the crap, Rafe. I’m not giving you her address. And if you bother her one more time, I swear you’ll ruin what’s left of the relationship between us too.” 

The call ended. It hit him like a cold slap, but Rafe didn’t give up. He called again. Sent messages. Pushed Sarah to the edge of her patience. Eventually, he got a sliver of information. She mentioned a gas station stop. It was his only chance. Today.

He didn’t hesitate. He jumped into his car and sped off, his mind a whirlwind. His heart pounded, his hands gripped the steering wheel like a lifeline. 

When he arrived at the gas station, his breath caught in his throat. His eyes searched for you, and finally, there you were. Through the store window, he saw you picking something off the shelf. Your eyes narrowed slightly, as if lost in thought. 

For a moment, all he could do was watch. His feet felt rooted to the ground. But then he took a deep breath and forced himself forward, one heavy step at a time, toward the door. His heart raced faster with every step, his mind repeating, Is this the right thing? But he had no choice. He needed to see you. He needed to talk to you. 

When he opened the door, the bell chimed softly. You turned your head, your eyes meeting his. In that instant, the world seemed to stop. Your gaze held a mix of surprise and anger, but no matter what, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. 

Rafe shoved his hands into his pockets, hesitating as he walked toward you. His shoulders slumped slightly, his eyes unsure. He stopped a few steps away, took a deep breath, and opened his mouth, but no words came out. 

“Hey,” he said finally, his voice trembling just enough to betray him. 

He watched as your eyes scanned him, waiting for a response. The silence between you felt heavy. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your tone flat, devoid of any warmth. Your brows furrowed, and your lips pressed into a thin line. You didn’t take your eyes off him. 

Rafe had expected anger, maybe even an outburst. But the coldness in your voice—it stung in a way he hadn’t anticipated. It hit him somewhere deep, leaving a dull ache in its wake. 

Rafe cleared his throat and briefly lowered his gaze to the floor. He’d imagined seeing you before he arrived but hadn’t thought about what he’d actually say. He tried to slip his hands into his pockets but stopped himself. His shoulders slumped, and his eyes stayed fixed on the ground. "I—I just wanted to say hi." 

Your face fell into an impassive mask. The disdain for him was clear, and Rafe felt like he couldn’t breathe under the weight of it. "Alright. Hi." 

Rafe forced a smile as he looked at you, his expression nervous but determined. "Hi." The silence between you stretched, thick and uncomfortable. Desperate to shift the mood, Rafe mumbled, "You look really beautiful, by the way." 

Your face immediately hardened, and your eyes flashed with anger, as if you couldn’t believe what he had just said. The hiss that escaped your lips made Rafe regret his words instantly. He’d crossed the line. "Cut the nonsense, Rafe. Can you leave, please?" 

Rafe tensed but took a step back. His hands remained buried in his pockets, and he dropped his head slightly, cursing himself. He’d had one chance, and he’d ruined it—like he always did. He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled before lowering his hand again. "I—I’m sorry. Really." 

He had barely turned to leave when your voice stopped him cold. 

"For what?" 

Rafe froze, his shoulders stiffening. Slowly, he turned back, confusion etched across his face. He understood the question, but was this really the time for this conversation? Of course, he expected you to hate him. He just hadn’t thought he’d get under your skin so quickly. "What?" 

"For what are you apologizing?" you repeated, your voice shaking but firm. Despite being in a public place, you struggled to keep it down, your anger barely restrained. "Did you honestly think you could just show up and casually talk to me? Like this is some kind of fucking joke?" 

Rafe raised his hands in a helpless gesture. Of course, you were right. What had he been thinking? "No. I—I just wanted to see if you were okay." 

Your brows knitted together as you crossed your arms, stepping closer to him. Rafe felt his entire body tense. "That’s none of your business. Why do you even care if I’m okay? You didn’t care five years ago." 

Rafe dropped his head. No matter what you said, you would always be right. He didn’t even have the words to defend himself. "I know." 

"You know?" Your voice climbed, sharp and incredulous, as you jabbed a finger toward him. "Fuck off, Rafe!" 

His breathing quickened, but he didn’t back away. This wasn’t how he imagined this would go, but—what did he expect? That you’d run into his arms and forgive everything he’d done? He had deluded himself into thinking you were still the person he used to know. "Look, I’m trying—" 

"I don’t want to hear it!" You raised a hand to cut him off, your voice louder than you intended. 

Rafe took a step closer. "I swear—" 

"I don’t want to hear it!" you yelled, your voice trembling but resolute. Rafe exhaled deeply, defeated. He hated this. Hated himself. He’d never be anything but a source of shame in your eyes. 

Rafe fell silent, guilt etched into every line of his face. He ran a hand through his hair, then took a step back. The quiet between you became unbearable. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes as the words forced their way out. "It’s over. It’s been over for years. That’s it. You didn’t want—" 

"Don’t say it," Rafe interrupted, his voice low but thick with emotion. Every word was weighted with regret. 

"You said, ‘Get rid of it!’ You didn’t want it! That’s why it ended," you snapped, your voice breaking as tears welled in your eyes. You didn’t back down, though. Rafe hated seeing you like this, hated knowing he was the reason for it. 

Rafe spread his hands helplessly, unsure of what to do. If you had told him back then, he would’ve accepted it with joy. But back then, he’d been a fool—a selfish, spineless coward desperate for his father’s approval. "I wasn’t thinking straight!" 

"Don’t give me that shit, Rafe." A bitter laugh escaped your lips, almost like you were exhaling your pain. You turned your gaze away, shaking your head. 

"I wasn’t in a good place," he whispered. But even he knew that no excuse could erase what he’d done. He wasn’t trying to absolve himself—he couldn’t. He was just…lost. 

Your laughter cut through him, sharp and bitter. "Right. Because your mistakes were all about your ‘bad mental state.’ Not because you’re just a shitty person! Enough, Rafe! This conversation is pointless. You’ve got a new life—without me. And we’ve got ours—without you. Let it go." 

You gave him one last look, lowering the finger you’d been pointing at him. Turning on your heel, you took a step to leave. 

Panic flared in Rafe’s chest. He couldn’t let it end like this. He’d made every mistake imaginable, but he couldn’t bear to add another one to the pile. He had to try. And if it didn’t work—well, at least he tried. 

"I want to meet her." 

You stopped in your tracks. The step you were about to take hung in the air before slowly retreating. You turned to him, eyes blazing with fury. 

"Liliana—" 

"Don’t you dare!" you shouted, pointing a trembling finger at him as you stormed toward him. Rafe stayed rooted in place, letting your fury wash over him. Of course, you were angry. You had every right to be. He just wished—wished he could turn back time and fix everything. "How dare you? Do you think it’s that simple?!" 

Rafe recoiled slightly, carefully choosing his words. He didn’t want to hurt you more than he already had—or dig himself into an even deeper hole. "I don’t mean to say the wrong thing." 

"I don’t care what you mean!" you snapped, your voice cutting through him like a knife. He watched as your expression shifted, protective and fierce. "You’re not meeting her!" 

"Don’t make me use force," Rafe said, his voice trembling but firm. He regretted it instantly. He shouldn’t have said it. It wasn’t true. He’d never do that. Never. It was a fleeting moment—an impulsive lapse. He needed to think before speaking. Shit.

You flinched. Then, with a bitter laugh, you stepped closer and shoved him in the chest. Rafe let you. He shouldn’t have spoken like an idiot. He should’ve stayed calm. 

“What are you going to do? Sue me? Go ahead! Does your father even know you have a kid? Everything you’ve built—your stupid little empire—it’ll all crumble! Are you really going to do it? Because you won’t. You’re a coward, and you always have been.”

Rafe’s eyes hardened. “I will,” he said, his tone low but sharp with determination. He could. He had the power. Lawyers, connections—it was all on his side. But he couldn’t do it to you. 

You froze, staring at him in shock. 

Rafe stepped closer, taking a deep breath and holding out his hands as if trying to calm the storm. He didn’t want this to escalate, and he knew you didn’t want it either. "But I won’t do that. That’s not the point. I want to be in Liliana’s life. I’m going to tell my father.”

You watched his brows furrow as he exhaled. You were right—if he wanted to be a father, his family needed to know. And if you allowed it, they had a right to be informed. But even if you didn’t allow it, he’d still tell them. They wouldn’t take it well. He couldn’t predict what would happen, but he was done hiding. He was done being a coward. 

“What?” you asked, disbelief and frustration tightening your voice.

“I’m going to tell them. No matter what.” He took a deep breath, his voice softening. It was almost as if the confident man standing before everyone else had deflated before you. He could barely hold your gaze. He knew he didn’t deserve you.

“You’re lying,” you said, stepping back. Your voice carried not just doubt but a deep-rooted unwillingness to believe him. You didn’t want to.

“I swear I’m not.” Rafe lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours with a certainty that startled you. He would do it. In fact, he should have done it from the beginning, back when you told him you were pregnant. He was already too late.

You didn’t want to believe him. But the resolve in his eyes—he’d never looked more sincere. 

Rafe drew in a deep breath and spoke, his gaze never wavering from yours. “I want them to know. Everything. I—” His voice cracked, but he pressed on. “I’m not making any more mistakes. I can’t afford to.”

Your brows knit together, your face hardening. You took a long, deliberate breath, though it was clear you were barely keeping your emotions in check. “Rafe, if this backfires on us—I don’t want it. I don’t want Liliana or me dragged into this mess.”

Rafe hesitated for a moment, then shook his head firmly. “It won’t. I promise.” He wouldn’t let it. Not ever. 

Your voice rose, insistent. “Rafe—”

He cut you off, stepping closer. “No. I won’t let that happen. I’m not that stupid, irresponsible kid you left behind anymore. That person...he’s gone. He’s gone for good.”

You let out a sharp breath, rolling your eyes as you shook your head. “I don’t trust you. I just—can’t.”

The guilt etched deep into Rafe’s face made him drop his gaze. He nodded silently, as if accepting it. He hated himself for this. If one of his friends had done what he had, Rafe would’ve ripped them apart for their irresponsibility, for being such a terrible person. And he knew—that’s exactly what he was. A terrible person. 

“I know. It’s going to take everything to prove myself to you, and I get that. But…”

You squinted at him, your eyes sharp and wary. “Liliana thinks her dad’s in space,” you said flatly, your voice dripping with sarcastic calm.

Rafe blinked in surprise. His eyebrows shot up, lips parting as the faintest spark of humor lit his expression. His heart raced at the absurdity of it. “What?”

“Yes,” you said, shrugging. “I told her her dad’s an astronaut. He’s so far away he can’t come see her. If you step into her life, there’s no stepping out again. If you think for one second you can’t handle this, don’t even bother starting.”

Your voice was firm, your gaze sharp as steel. “And—I need time to think.”

Rafe nodded but never took his eyes off you. “I’m not going anywhere. I won’t leave her again. No matter what, I won’t lose Liliana. I swear it.”

For a moment, silence hung between you. His seriousness, his unyielding resolve—it threw you off balance. You studied him with narrowed eyes, his words echoing in your mind. They made you uneasy. You hated feeling this way. 

“Fine. I’ll think about it,” you said at last, your voice tempered, the anger giving way to a measured determination.

Rafe exhaled deeply, relief softening his expression. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice quiet.

You lifted your chin, your eyes cold as ever. “I’m not doing this for you.”

This wasn’t a decision you could make on your own. It never had been, and it never could be.

When you returned home with Liliana, you had every intention of explaining everything to JJ. But as soon as you walked through the door, Liliana insisted on playing a game with JJ. Knowing you couldn’t discuss something this heavy in her presence, you simply went along with it. But JJ was no fool. He had picked up on something being off.

He’d been tense since you’d seen him that morning. While playing with Liliana, he would steal glances at you, checking on you like he was trying to piece together a puzzle. 

You had no idea what was bothering him, but that nagging weight in your chest wouldn’t go away. You wanted to just tell him and be done with it. You couldn’t handle this alone—especially not when you and JJ shared a home and were raising a child together.

This wasn’t just your decision to make. No, it would affect JJ too. Practically speaking, the two of you were living together. Sure, JJ had his own place, but he barely used it. He’d take Liliana to school sometimes, decide what she’d eat, and even join you for her daycare events. 

Whatever you did for Liliana, JJ did as well. He cared for her as much as you did. At night, he’d kiss her goodnight just as you would. The choice ahead of you wouldn’t just impact your life or Liliana’s—it would alter JJ’s too.

You had to talk to him. You needed to unload this unease and find some relief.

When Liliana and JJ finished playing, your eyes immediately sought his. He was already looking at you. When you held his gaze for a second too long, JJ quickly turned back to Liliana. “Go on, give Mommy a kiss, then you can go upstairs and play with your dolls.” He planted a kiss on her hair and stood up.

Your attention shifted to Liliana as she waddled over to you. “Want some coffee?” JJ asked just as Liliana climbed onto the couch and wrapped her tiny arms around your neck.

“Yes, please,” you replied as her kisses landed on your cheeks. Smiling, you kissed her back. “Now I’m going to play with my dolls. I love you, Mommy,” she chirped, pulling away.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” you said, watching as she clambered down and carefully made her way upstairs. Your eyes lingered on her until she disappeared at the top of the stairs.

JJ headed to the kitchen, and you felt the weight of your discomfort pressing down on you. You knew he’d bring you coffee, just like always, but this time, sitting in silence and ignoring the elephant in the room wasn’t an option. You had to talk. The life you shared, the responsibilities you both carried—everything had been thrown off balance by Rafe’s unexpected move. And you needed to know where JJ stood on all of it.

When JJ returned with two cups of coffee, the exhaustion etched on his face hit you immediately. He set your cup in front of you and sank into the opposite chair, staring down at his coffee in silence. You recognized this—the way JJ withdrew when something weighed heavily on him. You’d seen it many times before.

“JJ,” you said, not bothering to hide the determination in your voice. He hesitated for a moment before finally lifting his gaze to meet yours. The calm you were used to seeing in his eyes had been replaced by something much harder to read.

“Something happened,” you said, noticing the way his brows instantly furrowed.

“I know,” he murmured, his voice steady but tinged with something fragile. “I’ve been waiting for you to say it. Go ahead.”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm within you. “Rafe,” you said, hoping that single word would convey everything.

JJ’s expression hardened instantly. He straightened in his seat, his protective instincts kicking in. “What happened?” 

Your hands tightened around your coffee cup as you steadied yourself. “He… he wants to be in Liliana’s life,” you said, the words feeling heavy as they left your mouth. “He told me as much. And it doesn’t feel like something I can decide on my own. It’s not just my decision to make.” You trailed off, watching JJ’s face shift—from shock to anger and finally to a resigned sort of disbelief.

JJ’s gaze dropped to the floor. His hands remained on the cup, his fingers whitening with the grip, but his eyes stayed fixed on the ground. You wanted so badly to read his thoughts, but he gave nothing away. He just sat there, silent. And that silence unnerved you more than any outburst ever could.

It was driving you mad. You waited for him to speak—to say yes, no, anything. When it came to Liliana, your emotions were always raw, and thinking clearly was difficult. You needed JJ to ground you. “Say something,” you whispered, your voice betraying the helplessness you felt.

“Are you meeting him?” JJ finally asked, his voice barely audible. The room felt eerily quiet, the kind of silence that pressed down on your chest. You noticed his knuckles whitening further as he clutched his cup, his gaze still glued to the floor.

You shook your head quickly. “No. He came to me. I didn’t go to him. I didn’t call him—he found me. I would never willingly see him.” You paused, your voice trembling. “He… he saw us a few days ago. And today, when I went to pick up Liliana, he was at the gas station.” You swallowed hard, bracing for JJ’s reaction. You wanted him to lash out—to yell, to be angry at someone—but he didn’t. He just sat there.

“You’re her mother,” he said at last, his words cutting like a blade. His tone wasn’t comforting—it was almost dismissive. You’d hoped for guidance, for support, but his response left you feeling more alone.

“JJ—” you began, but he cut you off sharply. His gaze never lifted as he leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of his coffee. His reactions were impossible to decipher.

“This is your choice.”

“You know it’s not that simple,” you countered, your heart pounding as you leaned forward, trying to draw his attention. You needed him to look at you, to see you, but he remained where he was, unmoving.

“Alright, suit yourself.” JJ’s voice was flat, his tone monoton once again. You could feel your frustration rising, but you knew it stemmed from sadness. 

“Wait,” you said, your voice trembling. You couldn’t make this decision alone. 

“No, this is your choice.” JJ took a sip from his coffee. You had no idea how to change his mind. He kept throwing out these ridiculous comments and expected you to agree. And—it wasn’t like him at all. He spoke as if—as if he’d never been part of Liliana’s life. As if he hadn’t been there raising her alongside you.

“JJ—”

“Maybe you should move in together. You, Liliana, and Rafe. Picture-perfect family, what do you think?” His lips curled into a sarcastic smirk, and your jaw dropped. That bitter smile on his face made you feel utterly defeated. Did he even realize how ridiculous he sounded? These weren’t your words at all.

“Maybe you’ll rekindle your great love, hmm? Have another kid—” You couldn’t take it anymore. Did he not know you at all? Hadn’t he seen everything you’d been through? How could he talk like this?

Besides—you had come to him for advice. To figure out what to do as a team. It’s not like you had run to JJ impulsively to say yes to Rafe’s offer. You hadn’t even accepted it!

“You know I didn’t say that!” you yelled, unable to hold back your anger any longer. The realization that Liliana was upstairs hit you hard, and you closed your eyes tightly, taking a shaky breath to calm yourself before opening them again.

“I came to you for advice,” you said, the words catching in your throat. “To tell you this isn’t a decision I can make alone. And you’re—you’re saying all this to me?” The disappointment was written all over your face. You wanted to talk this through together, not deal with it on your own.

JJ gave a hollow chuckle as he stood up. When he slammed his coffee mug onto the table, you flinched. He ran his hands through his hair, pacing. “Maybe you’ll leave Asheville, move back to the Outer Banks. Start over with Rafe.” He turned his back on you, one hand resting on his hip while the other rubbed his temple. A frustrated sigh escaped him.

His words hit you like a slap. You stood abruptly. “You’re being cruel,” you said, your voice shaking. You cursed yourself as you felt your lips begin to tremble. You hated crying.

JJ’s face hardened. The anger seemed to drain from him, replaced by that same flat tone. “It’s not my place to decide. You’re her parent.”

“Me? Just me? So you weren’t her parent when you changed her diapers, stayed up with her when she cried at night, or showed up for her daycare events? Do you not see that Liliana views you as a father figure in her life?” Your voice cracked, as shattered as your emotions. You couldn’t stand how foolish he was being—or how he was acting. He wasn’t listening to you. “Does being a family only count if there’s blood involved?”

JJ paused for a moment, then sighed deeply, shaking his head. “Rafe’s her father. If he wants to be part of her life, you should let him.”

You threw your hands up in exasperation. “Stop talking like that!” you cried, desperation creeping into your tone.

JJ turned to you sharply, frustration etched into his features. He stepped closer, pointing a finger at you. “Didn’t you ask for my opinion? I just gave it to you. But know this—if he’s in her life, he’ll be in yours too. Whether you like it or not.”

That final sentence struck a nerve, and the storm inside you intensified. Before you could respond, JJ cut you off again. “You’ll fall for him again—” His smile was bitter, filled with pain.

You couldn’t take another second of this. “Do you think I forgot what he did to me?!” you shouted, interrupting him. “He left me when I was three months pregnant! Do you think I’m stupid enough to forgive that?!”

“I didn’t say that,” JJ muttered, his voice lower, but his words cut like a blade. “But you won’t be able to control your feelings.”

“You have no idea how I feel!” you snapped, anger and heartbreak tangled together in your voice. When you noticed a faint smirk tugging at JJ’s lips, your brows furrowed.

“You’re absolutely right,” he said, his tone strangely hollow. He nodded as if conceding your point, his tongue running over his teeth. “I really don’t.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, shaken by how cold and distant he had become. His words were so cryptic, so frustratingly vague, it felt like he was mocking you.

“I don’t know. What do I mean?” he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he shook his head. You couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew something you didn’t. 

It felt like you were trapped in an endless loop. When JJ began gathering his things from the table, your heart clenched. Despite everything, you didn’t want him to leave. No matter what he said—you couldn’t bear for him to turn his back on you. This couldn’t be happening.

As your anger faded into pure worry, you watched him with rising panic. You took a step forward, but he had already packed up. No. This couldn’t be it. You couldn’t let Rafe ruin your life all over again. “Where—JJ, wait. Please.”

JJ headed for the door, and you quickly followed, grabbing his arm. When he turned to face you, your eyes brimmed with tears. You didn’t want him to leave. You didn’t want this to end in anger and heartbreak. “Please—please, don’t go. Don’t.” 

“I need some air,” he said, his voice soft but firm. His eyes locked with yours, and for a moment, his expression softened. 

“I’ll stop talking, I swear—” you rushed out, desperate to keep him from leaving. You were ready to beg if it came to that. This wasn’t worth losing him over, not something so small. It didn’t have to escalate like this. 

“I’ll come back,” he said. His tone was steady, reassuring. But you didn’t want him to go, not even for a moment. Even if it meant sitting in silence together, you needed him to stay. You weren’t used to him walking away. 

“I really will stop—” you started again, your voice trembling. Your hands briefly reached for his arm before falling back to your sides, unsure of what to do. 

JJ looked away, threading his fingers through his hair in frustration. His fingers raked through his blond strands, his face tense and brooding. His brows were furrowed, and the muscle in his jaw tightened slightly. When he finally turned back to you, his gaze was a mixture of emotions—no anger, but a deep, aching disappointment. 

“I don’t want you to stop talking,” he said, his voice lower than usual, but it carried a quiet intensity. “If I stay, we’ll just hurt each other more.” He hesitated, drawing in a long, controlled breath before stepping back further. “I just need some space to calm down. I’ll come back.” 

“I’m sorry—” you murmured, your hand instinctively reaching out to him again before stopping mid-air. You were scared to touch him, scared it might push him further away. 

“Don’t.” JJ stepped back another pace, lifting his hand slightly as if to hold you at bay. “I’m not mad at you.” His gaze met yours, and beneath the resolve in his eyes, you could see how fragile he felt, even if he didn’t want to admit it. 

“Yes, you are. You’re mad at me. I shouldn’t have brought it up,” you insisted, your voice barely above a whisper. 

JJ froze for a moment, exhaling deeply as he looked away. His hands fell to his sides, and he shook his head slowly, as if wrestling with something. “Why shouldn’t you have brought it up?” he asked, his voice rough around the edges. When his eyes met yours again, there was pain in them, not directed at you but at himself. “This has always been your choice. I only said what I did because I care about you. I’m not angry at you—how could I be? How could I ever be angry at you?” 

He paused, his gaze drifting somewhere distant. His fingers fidgeted unconsciously near the pocket of his jeans, and his lips pressed into a thin line before parting again. “I’m angry at myself,” he admitted quietly, so quietly you almost didn’t hear him. 

His words stopped you in your tracks. Looking at his face, you realized there was something he wasn’t saying, something he was holding back. But you couldn’t bring yourself to ask. Asking might shatter the fragile tension that still tethered you together. 

JJ stood motionless for a long moment, then turned and walked toward the door. He stopped just before opening it, resting his hand on the frame. His fingertips gripped the edge so tightly they turned white. Without looking back, he stepped out. The door closed with a soft but final thud, the sound echoing through the room, leaving the air heavier than before. 

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

(Dark!) BNHA: Wanting a break from the relationship

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female Reader

Boys -> Hawks + Dabi + Deku

Reaction: Attempting to ask for a break in your relationship massively back fires against you - something you should've known.

WARNINGS: Toxic Relationship; Abuse; Manipulation.

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback 😊

–

You: “You know I love you right?” you start, hesitating for a brief moment. “But I think this isn’t working …maybe we should take a break.”

Hawks

“You know what? You’re absolutely right. We really need a good relaxing break, don’t we?” you’re not expecting Keigo to agree with you, and he laughs at the shock on your face. “How do we feel about Hawaii? You always wanted to go there, right?”

Confusion replaces the shock you felt just brief moments ago. You stare at Keigo, bewildered at the strange turn of the conversation. 

“What are you talking about?” you question. 

“What are you talking about, my adorably confusing girlfriend?” he laughs it off, humorously. “You said we need a break and I totally agree with that. Plus, I think a romantic getaway is just what we need right now, it’s about time we get some vacations.” 

“No, Keigo.” you stop him, “What I mean is that we should take a break from each other. Give it some time, y’know.” 

There’s a moment of quiet silence and Keigo’s smiles, a stiff and hard smile that does a good job covering up the upset clenching of his jaw.  

“Aren’t you being a tad bit dramatic with that? I mean, we’re perfectly totally completely fine, so what’s with that idea?” he questions you. “Why you tryna break something so perfect? Let me guess, attachment issues flaring up?”

“Because it’s not perfect, Keigo.” you answer back, a bit annoyed. “And we’re not fine, despite what you think. If you haven’t noticed, then maybe you’re not very clever, are you?” 

That golden gaze, usually so warm, now burns with an intensity that makes your throat tighten and a wave of regret immediately washes over you. 

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” he agrees, slowly dragging each word. “Maybe I’m not very clever. Cause if I was more clever, then maybe I would have noticed that you have a tendency to be overly dramatic.” 

The turn of the conversation leaves you stunned. What?

“Dramatic?” you echo, forcing your voice to stay steady. “Keigo, we’ve been fighting constantly. You don’t listen, and I feel like I’m—”

“—Like you’re what? Neglected? Trapped?” he cuts you off, before stepping closer, and though his wings didn’t move, you feel their phantom weight pressing down on you. “Babe, everything I do is for you. For us.”

“I work myself to the bone to make sure you have everything you’ve ever dreamed of. Don’t I?” his words pinch your heart. “And this is how you repay me? By wanting space? After everything I’ve done for you?”

“It’s not about what you’ve done, Keigo. It’s about how I feel. I just... need time to think. And maybe so do you.”

“Time to think? What’s there to think about, sweetheart?” he huffs, “Who’s going to protect you, take care of you, if you leave? Hmm?”

His wings extend slightly to frame you both in the narrow hallway.

“Keigo, I—”

“Shh.” He pressed a finger to your lips, his eyes softening into something almost tender. “You’re upset right now, and that’s okay. But leaving isn’t the answer, dove. You belong here. With me.”

Keigo cups your cheek, so tenderly and affectionately that it clenches your heart. His smile returns, warm and reassuring, as if nothing had happened. 

“Tell you what - let’s forget all this nonsense. How about I book that trip to Hawaii after all? A fresh start, just the two of us. You’ll see how perfect we are together.”

You want to protest, to grab your suitcase and leave, but his wings curl around you in a protective cocoon, and the weight of his touch - his words - render you paralyzed.

Somewhere deep down, a small voice screams at you to run. But Keigo’s voice, low and honeyed, drowns it out.

“See? Everything’s going to be fine,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You don’t need to go anywhere, dove. I’ll make sure of it.”

And you know, with a sinking certainty, that he meant it.

Dabi

The way his ice-blue eyes stare at you is chilling, to say the least. Dabi looks at you intently as if trying to discover something. 

“Do you remember when we started dating?” he asks at last, leaving you surprised at the random question. “That night on the rooftop where you become mine.”

You slowly nod, unsure of what he meant. It’s only been six months since your relation became official, but it feels as if it’s been a lifetime ago.

There’s been so many major changes in it - you changed, Dabi changed, everything about your relationship changed. And not for the better. 

“Good. Then you also remember when I told you - no - when I promised you that you’d never get fully rid of me, if you said yes. That you’d become mine, til your last breath.” his voice deepens at each step he takes towards you, looming and dark.

“That we’d be intertwined for the rest of our lives. That nothing would stop us from being together, no matter what.”

Shivers run down your spine, and you find yourself paralyzed. Frozen. No matter how much you attempt, your limbs won’t move. You’re completely frozen with fear. 

“Then tell me…” Dabi nears you, looking more mutilated and burned than ever. His hand rises, softly brushing against your cheek and it takes everything in you not to flinch away. “... why are you suddenly too good for me?”

“It’s not like that ….”

Your meek attempt of protesting is quickly silenced when his other hand grips you by the elbow, too firm for you to slip away. He cages you with his body and hands and you are too nervous to stop the sweat that builds up in your back. 

“Go on now, don’t be shy. I wanna hear all the pathetic excuses you got.” he dryly chuckles, slightly heating up his hand or maybe it’s just an illusion of your body, at this time you’re not sure anymore. “Tell me all about it. I’m looking forward to hearing you spew out all sorts of miserable apologies and justifications you can find.”

“Or maybe you’re planning to use the good old excuse everyone uses these days. It’s you, not me.” Dabi mocks you, but the lack of humor in his voice is evident. 

“Dabi, please.” your voice is nothing but a weak frightened whisper, “You’re… scaring me.” 

“Good, maybe fear can drill some good sense into that frail mind of yours.” he scoffs. “Cause I believe both of us know where this is headed. You’re not leaving me.” 

He doesn’t wait for an answer before continuing, eyes and voice pouring of determination and assurance. 

“You can never leave me, no matter how hard you try. I’ll always find you, you know that.” he warns, voice dipping low.

“And you should also be aware that your friends and family are meaningless to me. So, next time you think about pulling a stunt like this I highly suggest you think about their lives. Got it?” 

Deku

There are moments when you feel as though luck has abandoned you since you started dating Izuku.

Today is one of them.

It’s partially your fault, had you realized earlier that Izuku came home in a poor pissy mood you wouldn’t have brought the conversation up. 

“So, that’s how it’s going to be, huh?” his tone is serious and firm, borderline resentful. “After everything I’ve done for you and yet you are breaking up with me.” 

The unnerving stare of the emerald eyes is enough to make you duck your eyes, and the way he’s towering over you, a powerful mass of muscle and scars, makes you hesitant to meet his eyes. 

“Izuku, please.” you mutter. “It’s just… It’s for the best.”

“No, it’s not. Why don’t you just say it? That you’re just gonna dump me like I’m a piece of trash that got stuck to your shoe? Like I mean shit to you?” he spits, voice steadily rising and his words are cruel and effective enough to hit you hard and square on where it hurts the most. 

“Izu—”

“Is this a joke to you? Huh? Am I a joke to you?” A yelp gets caught up in your throat when his fingers grab your arm. No amount of wriggling and twisting breaks his powerful grip over your wrist, his digits pressing hard against your bone. 

“N-No! Of course not! Izuku, I don’t- Please!” your lips quiver as you beg for something. Mercy. Freedom. Salvation. Anything. “Please, let’s just talk this through and—”

“Talk about what, exactly?” Izuku presses further, messy tufts of green hair falling onto his eyes. “On second thought, I do wanna talk about this. I wanna talk about how long these ideas have been pestering your mind. So tell me, sweetheart, how long have you been planning to ditch me to the side like garbage?”

“It’s not like that.” you try, but Izuku barely allows you to say a few words before he’s speaking over you.

“Better yet,” he glares at you, his nostrils flare up and hand dangerously narrows around your hand’s bone. “Who put this stupid idea into your head? Answer me, damnit!” 

You shrink at his tone, pathetic and unable to stand up for yourself, as Izuku keeps verbally charging at you.

Something in the back of your mind admonishes you for not sneaking away in the middle of night like a quiet mouse when Izuku would be deep in slumber. 

You desolately wish you had done that. 

[yoongikapi]

take this bc im sick in bed rn😭

you’re sick || ot8 || drabbles

fluff/comfort

atz masterlist

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

hongjoong:

⟢ this man’s leaving work early fs and rushes home to find you groaning on the couch

⟢ he covers you up with a blanket and brings you some water and medicine

⟢ he makes sure you have everything you need and settles on the ground next to you by the couch and slowly runs his fingers up and down your legs to comfort you until you fall asleep

⟢ “feel better honey, I’ll be here if you need anything”

₊ ⊹ ౨ৎ

seonghwa:

⟢ when you wake up and tell him you’re not feeling good, his first instinct is to rest his forehead on yours; that’s his way of taking your temperature

⟢ he tells you you’re burning up and rushes downstairs to grab you some medicine along with something to drink

⟢ he slowly helps you sit up and feeds you the medicine and helps you with your drink, after he lays you back down he leaves the room to call out of work for the day

⟢ “I need to be here for my girlfriend, I’m not coming in today”

₊ ⊹ ౨ৎ

yunho:

⟢ a date in the rain sounded romantic, but reality had other plans

⟢ as the two of you sat waiting for your coffees, you couldn’t stop your cough from ripping it’s way out

⟢ “babe you’re coughing a lot, are you feeling okay? are you cold?” without waiting for a response, yunho removed his jacket and placed it on you and then suddenly stood up and grabbed your hand

⟢ “maybe we should go home and get you warm, common babe”

₊ ⊹ ౨ৎ

yeosang:

⟢ he knew something was wrong the second he heard your voicemail again after trying to call you for the third time

⟢ after arriving home, he was surprised to see you swaying back and forth in front of the microwave. grabbing your arm to hold you steady, he asked what was wrong before pulling you into a hug but you weakly pushed him away and whispered that you were sick

⟢ he took your hand in his and led you to the bedroom. he covered you up and wiped your face with a damp cloth before laying it to rest on your forehead.

⟢ “you left your tea in the microwave right? I’ll get it for you hon, stay in bed.”

₊ ⊹ ౨ৎ

san:

⟢ the apartment was dark when he got home from work, when he flipped on the light switch he found you laying unconscious on the floor

⟢ panicked, he reached down and held your face in his hands until you woke up. after a couple minutes he picked you up and carried you to the bathroom where he drew a warm bath for you

⟢ he slowly helped you into the bath and whispered sweet nothings to you as you got teary-eyed, continuously telling him how sorry you were and how much of a burden you were. after getting you cleaned up he helped you into your softest pajamas and gently laid you into bed

⟢ “ baby you could never be a burden to me, I love you so so much. get some sleep”

₊ ⊹ ౨ৎ

mingi:

⟢ you and your boyfriend have had this date planned for over a week and not feeling great wasn’t going to stop you from seeing him

⟢ hours pass by and you’re starting to feel even worse but you continue to hide it, that is until your boyfriend asks if you’re feeling okay

⟢ the sudden question made your knees weak and mingi caught you before you could hit the ground “I’m sorry, I’m actually not feeling great….”

⟢ “you have nothing to be sorry for, i’m sorry for not noticing sooner. lets get you home..”

₊ ⊹ ౨ৎ

wooyoung:

⟢ “babe you don’t have to be here..” you coughed out to your boyfriend

⟢ wooyoung left work the second you told him you weren’t feeling good and rushed over to your place with some medicine, a heating pad, and whatever else he thought you might need

⟢ “honey I dont want you to get sick..” you continued but he ignored you, gave you medicine and laid out everything he bought. after plugging in the heating pad he rested it on you and laid by your side

⟢ “i dont care about getting sick hon, I just want you to feel better”

₊ ⊹ ౨ৎ

jongho:

⟢ what was supposed to be a sweet date night resulted in a late night store run for medicine and extra water for you as you laid in bed, sick and waiting for your boyfriend to return

⟢ while jongho was checking out the items, an adorable, stuffed bear caught his attention. he immediately thought of you and quickly picked it up and scanned it before swiping his card and then ran back to the apartment

⟢ after you took your medicine, he pulled the stuffed bear out and cuddled it up next to you, you smiled and thanked him to which he smiled back. he laid down next to you and began to hum your favorite song

⟢ “i hope this makes you feel even a little bit better”

₊ ⊹ ౨ৎ

[keisgirl]

ily but…; tsukishima kei

pairing; highschool!tsukishima kei x reader

wc; 0.5k

guys should i make a masterlist again

you see, tsukishima kei isn’t the type of boyfriend you would want. he loves you, but then he doesn’t really pick up cues.

it’s not that he’s oblivious. tsukishima notices everything. he’s sharp, observant, painfully so. but emotional nuances? they slip past him like water through a sieve. he doesn’t mean to hurt you. in fact, it’s the opposite: every sarcastic jab, every carefully worded critique, comes from a place of love. he just doesn’t know how to be soft about it.

you’re sitting on the floor of his room, textbooks scattered between you. tsukishima’s knees are tucked to his chest, one arm resting casually on top. he’s explaining a math problem, his tone steady, almost clinical. you don’t even remember asking for help with this one. maybe you didn’t.

"if you just carry this over here, it’s obvious," he says, pointing at your notebook. his brows furrow slightly, his lips pressing into a line. "how did you not see that?"

your throat tightens. it’s not the words, really. it’s the way he says them, so matter-of-fact, so distant. you press your pencil harder against the page, the graphite smudging under your hand.

"maybe i’m just stupid," you mumble.

his head snaps up at that. "don’t say that."

"why not? you’re the one always pointing it out."

he leans back against his bed frame, exhaling sharply through his nose. "i’m not-" he pauses, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "i’m not saying you’re stupid. i’m just saying you’re not trying hard enough."

you laugh, but it’s humorless, bitter. "right. because that’s exactly what i need to hear right now."

his eyes narrow, his jaw tightening. "i’m trying to help you."

"and i didn’t ask for it!" the words come out louder than you intended, echoing in the small room. tsukishima flinches, just barely, but it’s enough to make you feel a pang of guilt.

you drop your pencil, letting it roll across the floor. "sometimes i just… i just want a hug from you, kei," you say softly, staring at the notebook in front of you. "thank you for tutoring me when i say i’m not good enough, but maybe all i want is comfort. not another teacher."

the silence that follows is heavy, suffocating. you can feel his gaze on you, but you don’t look up.

"i…" he starts, but his voice falters. tsukishima kei, the boy who always has something to say, is at a loss for words.

when you finally glance up, he’s looking away, his hand gripping the edge of his bed. his lips part as if he’s about to speak, but he doesn’t. instead, he shifts slightly, leaning forward until his fingers brush yours. it’s tentative, hesitant—like he’s afraid of getting it wrong.

"i’m not good at this," he admits quietly. his voice is softer now, the edges of his usual sarcasm smoothed out. "i don’t… know how to be what you need."

your chest tightens, a lump forming in your throat. "just try, kei," you whisper. "that’s all i want."

he exhales, his hand finally closing over yours. his grip is awkward, a little too firm, but it’s something. it’s enough.

"okay," he says. "i’ll try."

and for the first time, you feel like he really means it.

[loverangels]

coach!james x single mum!reader

series masterlist main

The whistle blew, and the hum of Saturday morning excitement filled the park. Kids were running around, kicking balls, giggling, and shouting to their friends, while parents mingled on the sidelines with coffee in hand. You were keeping an eye on your six-year-old son, Elliot, who was bouncing on his heels next to the rest of his football team, eagerly waiting for practice to begin.

“Mum!” Elliot called out, waving at you with the brightest grin. “Did you see me kick the ball earlier? It went so far!”

“I did!” you called back, smiling at his enthusiasm. “You’re going to crush it today, buddy!”

You loved this little park, and the fact that Elliot had a chance to be part of a team. He was too young to take it seriously, but his joy and determination made your heart swell. Plus, volunteering at the park gave you the perfect excuse to keep an eye on him without hovering too much.

As you adjusted the snacks on the table, you glanced back to find Elliot happily chatting with his teammates. You couldn't help but feel a sense of pride watching him engage with the other kids, the same pride that made you pause and take a deeper breath of contentment. You’d built a life that was busy and full, and yet, the sight of your son thriving in this environment always made everything feel right.

It was then that you noticed him—James Potter, the team coach. He strolled onto the field, looking more effortless than anyone should. He wore a loose black hoodie, his messy hair perfectly complementing his casual attire. But what really caught your attention was how he moved with an easy confidence, shoulders squared, his dark eyes scanning the kids as they stretched, a soft but focused grin playing on his lips. There was something so genuine about him. He had an air of playfulness that could disarm even the most reserved, but also a depth, like he cared more than he let on.

His presence always had this effect on you, but today it felt stronger. Maybe it was the way the sunlight hit his messy hair or how his smile seemed effortlessly charming. You found yourself stealing a glance at him, unsure if he noticed, but your heart gave an unexpected flutter when his gaze briefly flicked toward you. He smiled, that grin that made his eyes twinkle with mischief, and you quickly looked away, hoping he hadn’t caught you.

“Alright, team!” James shouted, clapping his hands to get the kids’ attention. “Who’s ready to show me what they’ve got today?”

The kids erupted in cheers, Elliot included. You couldn’t help but chuckle at their excitement—and at James, who somehow managed to look both effortlessly cool and completely chaotic at the same time. He just had that effect on people.

James bent down to Elliot’s level, holding up his hand for a high-five. “Elliot! You ready to score some goals today?”

“Yeah!” Elliot said, slapping James’s hand with all the strength his little body could muster.

“That’s what I like to hear,” James said, ruffling Elliot’s hair before turning his attention to the rest of the team.

You found yourself admiring the way he interacted with the kids. It was so natural, so warm. His patience and energy were impressive, and there was no denying that he had a way of drawing people in—especially the kids. It made you admire him more than you probably should, but you couldn’t help it. The way he was able to balance being fun with teaching them the right things—it was something rare. And that laugh of his? It was like music, an easy, carefree sound that made your heart skip a beat.

As the kids started their warm-ups, James glanced toward the sidelines—and caught your eye. His grin widened, a playful sparkle in his eyes, as he walked over to you, hands stuffed into the pockets of his track pants.

“Hey,” he said, his voice warm and friendly. “You’re Elliot’s mum, right?”

“That’s me,” you replied, extending your hand, introducing your name “Nice to officially meet you."

“James,” he said, shaking your hand. His touch was firm but not too strong, the kind of handshake that made you feel at ease. “Though I guess the kids have already made that pretty obvious.”

You laughed, nodding. “Elliot talks about you all the time. He thinks you’re the coolest person alive.”

James looked genuinely flattered, scratching the back of his neck. He had a slight blush on his cheeks as he rubbed his jaw. "Well, I try. But honestly, he’s got some real talent. Left-footed striker, right?”

You blinked, surprised he’d noticed such a specific detail about your son. “Yeah, he is. How did you—?”

James shrugged, his grin turning a little sheepish. “I pay attention. Plus, he’s always practicing that footwork drill I showed him. Kid’s got dedication.”

Your heart warmed at the obvious care he had for the team—and for Elliot. It was clear that James had a genuine interest in the kids beyond just coaching them. And as you looked at him now, standing in front of you, his messy hair, crooked glasses, and easy grin, you realized just how attractive he was. Maybe it was his effortless confidence or the way he didn’t try too hard—either way, there was something magnetic about him that you couldn’t quite shake.

“That means a lot,” you said, the words slipping out without thinking. “Elliot’s been so excited to play ever since he joined.”

“Well, he’s got a great cheerleader,” James said, gesturing toward you.

“Cheerleader slash taxi driver slash snack provider,” you joked, smiling. “It’s a whole package deal.”

James laughed, the sound light and genuine, before adding, “Parent life, huh?”

“Pretty much,” you said, glancing back at Elliot, who was now trying to dribble the ball while another teammate chased him. “But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

James followed your gaze, his expression softening. “He’s a good kid. You’ve done a great job.”

The compliment hit you unexpectedly, and you felt your cheeks warm, though you did your best to keep your cool. “Thanks,” you said softly. It meant more than you expected. "He’s my world.”

James paused, as if considering saying something else. But before he could, one of the kids called out to him, interrupting the moment.

“Coach! Timmy keeps stealing the ball!”

James sighed dramatically, throwing you an apologetic smile. “Duty calls. But, uh... I’ll see you after practice?”

“Sure,” you said, your voice suddenly feeling softer. You watched as he jogged back onto the field, his energy infectious, and you couldn’t help but feel a little warmth inside. Maybe it was the way he made everything seem so easy. Or maybe it was how you were starting to really notice just how much you liked him.

@tallysnest @jamesweather @lovebyaphrodite @lovelydeepresedkid @trulyyoursniki @miliokumura3 @youcouldstartacult @rebookii @yrluvjane @maximumcantrix @ilarp7 @virtualbuni @youngz00 @avvaaaaaaa @littlelunatica @roseanneeee21 @nightfiress @jpottercore @sturdiii

(for anybody missing on the taglist I apologise Tumblr wouldn't let me tag you!!)

to be added to the taglist reply

[silent-stories]

𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Series summary: When Noah was left alone to take care of his daughter about two years ago, he never thought he would find someone else he would trust enough to include in his little family. But things can change.

Series masterlist

"Okay, recap moment," you began, sitting at a table in the café with Rick, Folio, and Grace, the sun beginning to set outside and filling the room with hues of red and orange.

"Ever since Jason came back to town, he’s wanted to win you back," Rick explained again after taking a slow sip from his coffee, his voice tinged with guilt. "And he asked for my help, because apparently I’m his only friend."

"So, the psycho has been trying to get your attention all this time," Folio interjected, "and when Noah left for a couple of days, he thought it was the perfect opportunity to do something that would drive a wedge between you two."

"So, he had you leave him," you pointed to Rick, "in front of Noah’s house after he got drunk, knowing that the next morning, Noah would find him there and think I'd cheated on him."

Rick lowered his eyes, unable to meet your gaze. "Yeah... that was exactly what he was hoping for. He knew Noah would be hurt, and he knew that would push him away from you."

"Noah didn’t want to listen to what you had to say because he thought what happened with Hannah was about to happen again. And now, he feels awful because he thinks it's his fault—like he can’t keep someone who loves him around," Folio continued.

"And you feel guilty because if you had realized Jason’s intentions sooner, maybe you could have stopped this from happening," Rick added, concluding the chain of events.

"Wow," Grace remarked. "I still have so many questions."

"Yeah, me too," Rick agreed. "Like, why are you even still here? You had nothing to do with any of this."

"Hey! I work here too, okay?" Grace shot back. "I have every right to stay as long as I want."

“So,” you turned to Folio, disregarding the bickering between the punk guy and your friend, or whoever Grace was to you, “what do you think I should do?”

"Go to him," Folio urged. "Talk things through. Please. I can’t keep watching him like this. I don’t think he’s showered in two weeks."

Grace wrinkled her nose.

"I'm sorry," Rick apologized. "If I hadn’t helped Jason, maybe none of this would have happened."

"Well, that’s how things played out," you replied. "And there’s no turning back."

"But things can still be fixed if you both put aside your fears and have a real conversation," Grace encouraged.

Folio leaned back in his chair, his gaze softening. "Exactly. It might not be easy, but if you want to fix things, this is where it starts."

"I’m not sure he wants to talk to me," you said, your voice uncertain as you stared down at the table, trying to sort through your swirling thoughts.

Grace looked at you, her expression a mix of frustration and concern. "Oh, please!" she exclaimed, leaning forward onto the table. "We know he loves you, and you love him. And it’s so obvious you both are suffering now! If you go to him and tell him everything was part of Jason’s plan, and that his weird friend here explained how things really went down, he’ll listen. I promise you!"

Rick shook his head, smirking but with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Hey, weird friend to who, Barbie with black hair?"

Grace just rolled her eyes.

Folio sighed, but his voice grew more serious. "Look, trust me. Go to him, tomorrow. It’s been two weeks, and he’s starting to realize he let you go just because he was too scared. You can’t just sit around waiting for him to make the first move because he won't. He's in a depressive mood right now."

A silence fell for a moment as you thought about their words. Folio's eyes were sincere, and for a brief second, it felt like there was still a chance to fix things. You took a deep breath, the weight of the decision settling over you.

Finally, you nodded. "Okay," you said softly, "I’ll do it."

After Grace and Folio left, you and Rick stood outside the café, the cool evening air pressing against you as the sunset faded into the night. The streets were quieter now, the hum of the city barely reaching you.

Rick shifted uncomfortably, his hands in his pockets as he avoided your gaze. "I… I’m sorry," he said finally, his voice low. "I know you probably hate me right now for helping Jason, for being his friend. I know what I did was wrong. But he was the only friend I ever had, you know? And I just... I always did what he asked, because I didn’t want to lose him. I thought if I kept helping him, I’d prove I was a good friend. But looking at it now, I see I was just blinded by that need to belong. I'm so fucking stupid."

You were silent for a moment, taking in what he said. It didn’t make you angry. Instead, a sense of understanding washed over you. You shook your head gently. "I’m not mad at you, Rick," you said softly. "I don’t think you’re a bad person. You just... you need better friends. Friends who aren’t going to pull you into things like this. Friends who won’t take advantage of your loyalty."

Rick’s shoulders slumped as if a weight had been lifted, but there was still a trace of guilt on his face. "I don’t deserve your forgiveness," he muttered.

"You don’t have to deserve it," you replied with a small smile. "People make mistakes. What matters is what we do after." You paused for a moment, thinking carefully about the next words you wanted to say. "You can come see me, us, at the café anytime. If you ever need to talk, or just... hang out. I'm sure Noah would like you too, you know? You punched Jason, after all."

He looked up at you, his eyes slightly wide, as if your words were a relief he hadn’t expected. "Thanks. Really. I know I messed up, but I’m done following Jason. I’ve made my choice."

You nodded. "I’m glad to hear that."

Rick smiled, though it was a little uncertain at first. "I’ll come by sometime."

As you both turned to leave, you gave Rick one last look. "Thanks again, Rick. Take care."

And with that, you parted ways, but not with the same weight on your shoulders you had carried earlier. Things could get better—for both of you.

Noah sat on the couch, his legs stretched out in front of him, trying his best to smile as he tickled Luna, her giggles filling the air. It was a soft sound, the kind of laughter that once brought him a sense of peace, but now it felt like a distant memory.

He tried to focus on her, on her innocent joy, but the weight of everything pressing on him still felt unbearable. He could hardly summon the energy to keep up with her playful energy.

"Daddy! Knights don’t tickle princesses!” she said, holding up a finger as if to emphasize her point as she laughed.

"Oh really? So why am I doing that now?"

"Because you are a bad knight, daddy!"

Noah let go and finally dropped his hands to his sides, letting the kid breathe.

Luna, her tiny hands gripping his arm as she attempted to climb onto his lap, paused for a moment and looked at him with her big, innocent eyes. She tilted her head to one side, sensing that something was off. "Daddy," she said in her small, soft voice, "will Y/N come today?"

The question hit Noah like a punch to the stomach. He froze for a second, trying to think, his chest tightening as his mind raced for an answer. How could he explain this to her? How could he possibly tell his three-year-old daughter that the woman who had been a constant presence in their lives, the woman he had loved, was gone and might never return?

He forced a smile as he moved some strands of hair from her little chubby face, but it felt hollow. "No, sweetie," he said softly, trying to keep the sadness from his voice. "Y/N won't be coming here for a while."

Luna’s face fell for a moment, and Noah’s heart twisted at the sight. She didn’t understand, not fully. But she could already feel the absence. She blinked and then asked, her voice so innocent and hopeful, "Oh, is she on vacation?"

Noah nodded slowly, trying to hold it together. He swallowed hard, not knowing what else to say. "Yeah," he replied quietly. "She’s on vacation."

Luna seemed to accept that answer, her small face brightening again, and Noah couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. Was he lying to her? He didn’t know. But he couldn’t tell her the truth. Not yet. Not when he was still trying to figure it all out himself.

“Oh,” Luna said, her voice soft and wistful. “I wish I could go with her. I want to see the mountains with Y/N.”

Noah’s heart broke a little more as she spoke, the simple, innocent wish from his daughter ringing in his ears.

He looked down at her, her eyes filled with that pure, untainted hope, and he could feel the weight of the world on his shoulders. He wished things were different, wished he could turn back time and make the mess he had created disappear. But all he could do now was nod, his voice filled with emotion as he replied, “Yeah… me too.”

His gaze fell on the beaded bracelet on his wrist, the bracelet Luna had made with you. She seemed so happy when she gave it to him, saying that you and she had one similar too that Noah couldn't say no. He wondered where you put yours. If it was lying forgotten at the bottom of a trash can or if he was on your wrist too and if you were thinking about him like he was thinking about you looking at it.

The pink was an extreme contrast to his tattoos in a way that made him smile and made his skin burn at the same time.

Luna didn’t seem to sense the weight of his words. Instead, she smiled brightly, her small hands gripping his shirt as she pulled herself closer to him. “Maybe when Y/N comes back, we can all go to the mountains together, Daddy. And see bears.”

Noah’s throat tightened, and he could barely choke out a laugh. "Maybe," he said quietly, his voice breaking just a little. “Maybe we can.”

That late evening, you were at home, the wind outside picking up, howling against the windows.

But then, through the noise, you heard something else—faint, almost drowned out by the gusts of wind. It was a soft whimpering sound. You froze, wondering if you’d imagined it. Another sound followed, louder this time, and it was unmistakable.

You quickly made your way to the door, heart racing. Was someone out there? You opened the door cautiously. The wind whipped around you, but you could make out something small huddling near the porch steps.

A tiny, scruffy ball of fur, sat there looking up at you. You bent down, your breath catching in your throat. A small puppy—probably only a few months old—was staring up at you with big, wide eyes, the color of dark amber. The fur on its body was matted and dirty, but you could tell that, despite its appearance, it wasn’t in horrible condition. It was skinny, too, ribs showing a bit too much through its dirty fur but it didn’t seem too malnourished.

You crouched down, reaching out cautiously, speaking in a soft voice, “Hey there, little one… where did you come from?” The puppy didn’t flinch, but tilted its head at you, studying you curiously, its little tail flicking.

“Do you have a home?” you asked again, more gently this time, hoping it could understand. It just stared at you, unblinking, before it started to shuffle forward, its paws making soft noises on the porch.

“Well, I guess you don’t have a place to go, do you?” you sighed, your heart already melting at the sight of the poor thing. The puppy continued its advance, slowly squeezing between your legs and making its way into the house. You blinked, surprised, but then a soft laugh escaped you.

“Okay, I guess you've already decided where you're going to stay,” you said with a smile, closing the door behind you. You watched the little creature wander inside.

You paused for a moment, your mind spinning with what to do next. You glanced around the small space, eyes landing on the kitchen. Your fridge. Maybe there was something you could feed it.

Opening the fridge, you found some leftover chicken, cooked and ready to go. Without hesitation, you grabbed it, placing it down on a plate for the pup. You watched as the little dog immediately pounced on the food, devouring it in a matter of seconds, the sound of its chewing filling in the silence of the house.

As the dog finished, you crouched down beside it, rubbing its back, and you finally understood the puppy was a male. “What now, little one? You just going to stay here with me?” you asked, your voice soft.

The dog responded with a loud, excited bark, his tail wagging furiously as he jumped up in front of you, as if to say “Yes, please!”

You chuckled lightly. “Guess that’s a yes,” you smiled, patting the puppy’s head.

“Alright then, you can stay with me for now.”

Without thinking twice, you picked the little thing up, holding him carefully in your arms as you carried him toward the bathroom.

You turned on the tap, filling the bathtub with warm water, and carefully set the puppy down.

You took your time, softly scrubbing the dirt out of his brown and black fur.

Just as you were finishing up, the puppy suddenly shook his body, spraying water everywhere. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight, the tiny creature soaking your clothes and the bathroom floor, but you didn’t mind. The laugh felt good, like a release, like a bit of normalcy in the chaos that had surrounded you lately.

“You really know how to make a mess, huh?” you said, wiping your face with the back of your hand as the dog looked up at you, his fur dripping wet and his expression utterly adorable.

After a few more moments, you helped the puppy out of the tub and wrapped it in a towel, rubbing it gently to dry it off. He seemed to enjoy the attention, snuggling into the towel as if it had finally found a safe place. You sat on the floor with him for some moments.

Then, you looked down at the tiny creature, now dry and warm, curled up on the towel beside you, his little eyes closing in contentment. “You're a good boy,” you said softly, smiling as the puppy let out a quiet yawn.

That night, he whined until you picked him up and let him sleep in the bed with you, his body pressed close to yours, keeping you almost as warm as Noah's had.

The next morning, before going to the café, you left enough food and water around for the dog before heading out, promising to think of a suitable name for him.

When you were at work, it had started raining, and when you stepped out of the coffee shop during the afternoon, it hadn't stopped yet.

The cold rain immediately soaked through your clothes as you reached your car.

The city streets were slick with water, and the dull hum of distant thunder echoed in the sky, but you barely noticed. Your mind was consumed with the need to reach Noah. You had to. You had already waited too much.

You got in, slammed the door, and turned the key. Nothing. You tried again. And again. The engine sputtered but refused to start, the engine light flashing mockingly at you in the dark interior. Your heart sank. You cursed under your breath and tried once more, but the car just refused to cooperate. It was as if the universe itself had decided that this was not the night for you to see Noah, that fate was conspiring against you, and all the progress you'd just made would come crashing down.

"This is ridiculous," you muttered, staring helplessly at the wheel. Frustration surged inside you, and you felt a lump rise in your throat. The rain was pouring harder now, and everything felt like it was falling apart.

But then, in that moment of frustration, something shifted inside you. You wiped your damp face with the back of your hand and exhaled, steadying yourself. This wasn’t the end, not yet. You weren’t going to give up this easily.

Noah was waiting for you. Even if maybe he didn’t know that. You couldn’t afford to let something as trivial as a car breaking down stop you.

"Fine," you whispered to yourself, the determination in your voice solidifying. "I’ll walk."

Without another thought, you opened the door, slammed it shut, and stepped back out into the pouring rain. The streets blurred with each step you took, your soaked clothes clinging to you as you began your journey toward Noah, your mind set on one thing: You needed to see him.

The rain was hitting the ground in heavy, unrelenting sheets, turning the streets into rivers when you reached Noah's house. The sound of it pounded against your ears, drowning out everything else. You stood there, drenched to the bone, the cold water soaking through your coat and clothes, your hair was wet, dripping down and sending a chill through your neck, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except getting to Noah.

Nothing mattered except Noah.

The cold air pressed against your skin, your heart pounded in your chest, thoughts spinning.

You reached the front door, the familiar house looming before you, but it wasn’t the same. It didn’t feel like home anymore. Not when everything had been shattered, and the quiet that hung between you two was almost suffocating.

Finally, you pressed the doorbell, the sound of it echoing louder in the still night than you had anticipated. The seconds felt like hours, and then, the door creaked open.

There he was, standing in the doorway, but he wasn’t the same Noah. His eyes were tired, bloodshot from lack of sleep, and his face was drawn. The person you had known—the one who laughed with you late at night, the one who made you feel safe—felt distant now, a ghost of the man you had loved.

He looked at you, and for a moment, there was nothing but silence as the rain kept pouring all around you. He didn’t say a word. Didn’t even move. You couldn't read him, it was like he was trying to keep you at arm’s length, afraid that if you got too close, you might shatter him further.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words felt like they were stuck in your throat. What could you even say? How could you explain what had happened, explain how everything had fallen apart because of one man's manipulation? You knew this was your fault, too.

“Noah,” you said, voice shaky as you finally met his gaze. “I... I need to talk to you. Please.”

His expression remained overall hard, a wall that you couldn’t break through, not yet. He looked down for a moment, his jaw tightening, as if he was fighting the urge to turn away from you.

But when he looked at you, his eyes were soft, as if despite everything he couldn't look at you with anger.

"What?" he muttered, his voice strained, as if a single word was causing him physical pain.

You took a deep breath.

"Ever since Jason came back to town, I—I didn’t see it. I didn’t want to see it. I thought that chapter was closed, that he was a thing of the past, that I was done with him. And I was. Because I love you and I'll always love you and only you. But he wasn’t done with me. I should’ve known. And I... I was too fucking stupid to realize he never wanted to let me go. Not really. He wanted to win me back, to tear us apart, and I was blind to it."

He just stared at you, so you kept talking. Seeing him like that was absolutely breaking you.

"He asked Rick for help, a friend of his that understood he was doing something wrong and talked to me. And Rick, he... he just wanted to be a good friend. He didn’t understand. But Jason—he used Rick, manipulated him, got him to leave him drunk in front of your house, knowing that I would let him in because I am too fucking srupid and too fucking nice. He knew that you’d think I cheated on you. Knowing that you’d be hurt, that you'd doubt me, that it would rip us apart. He had everything planned. And I—I let it happen. I didn’t even see it coming. I didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late, until I saw the way you looked at me like I let you down like your ex. And I've never wanted that.

And now... now I’m standing here, soaked to the skin because I always forget to bring an umbrella with me and because I care about you, trying to find the right words, but there’s no easy way to explain this. No way to take back the pain I caused you. No way to undo what Jason did. But I need you to know this... I love you. More than anything. More than I ever thought I could love someone.

And I’m so fucking sorry for the mess I’ve made and for letting Jason ruin everything. I’m so sorry I didn’t see what Jason was doing. I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner that I was losing you, that I was pushing you away when all I’ve ever wanted is to be with you.

I love you more than I ever knew how to say. I love you more than anything. And I need you to know that, to believe that, because it’s the truth. You’re the only thing that matters to me and I miss you. And I miss Luna. And I miss the family we built. The three of us. And if you can find it in your heart to forgive me... I swear, I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right. But please, Noah, don’t let me lose you. Not like this. Not because of an asshole who thought he had power on someone else's love."

After you finished confessing, Noah looked at you with a mix of confusion and concern for a moment, his brow furrowing as his gaze flickered over your drenched form. "Why are you completely soaked?"

You couldn't help but smile softly, a little amusement tugging at the corner of your lips, despite the moment. "My car wouldn’t start," you replied, trying to sound lighthearted, almost as if it was a silly inconvenience. "So I walked."

Before you could say anything more, Noah’s expression softened even more, and without another word, he stepped forward in the rain. His lips found yours with a sudden intensity, and it was like everything else melted away. You smiled against his mouth, the taste of him so sweet, so right, that it felt like you could stay in this moment forever.

You had longed for the sensation of his lips on yours, the warmth of his tongue dancing with yours, and the comfort of his arms wrapped around you for days.

His hair clung to his forehead as the rain soaked him through, and without thinking, you reached up to brush it aside, your fingers grazing the damp strands as you continued to kiss him, your hearts racing in sync. It was perfect. It was real. The kiss lingered, deepening, as if neither of you wanted it to end, until the air between you both ran out and you both pulled back, gasping for breath.

Noah’s hands were still on your hips, pushing you close to him.

His voice was low and vulnerable as he whispered against your lips, "I’ve dreamed of this moment for fifteen nights. I thought you hated me..I'm sorry I told you to leave. I was scared to lose you and so fucking jealous. I've never wanted you to leave. I love you.

I loved you from the first moment I walked into the café with Luna barely able to speak, when she raised her little hand to say hi. She didn't do it with anyone. But she did it with you. Maybe she also understood at that moment that you were going to be the most important person in both our lives."

You couldn’t help but smile, the warmth flooding back into your chest at the sound of his words. "I’ve walked in the rain for forty minutes for you," you murmured, your voice soft but full of certainty. "I’d say I don’t hate you at all."

He chuckled, the sound of it wrapping around you like a warm blanket. God, you'd missed that sound so bad. "I’d say I don’t hate you at all either," he replied, a grin tugging at his lips, and then he kissed you again, softer this time, as if savoring every second, every drop of rain falling around you both.

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lacy1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme @hurricanesfollowyou @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @missduffsblog

TBAF Tags: @klutzy-kay24 @mrscevans @concreteangel92 @iconic-taurus @niicoleleigh @cheyyyyr @supersquirrel1996 @respectfulrebel @clickmedead @whenyouwannafindlove @kenjipepsi1

[fireheartpages]

interlude | b.d

bodhi durran x reader chapter two. series masterlist summary: So, he made a plan. He would work his way into your atmosphere. Get your attention somehow, manage to win you over. He didn’t know what it was, only that his interest would only be satiated by one thing: knowing you. word count: 1.8k notes: kind of second person pov, it's mostly all bodhi's pov though. canon-typical violence. bodhi is such a sweetheart ok. this is a little brain baby because i wanted to dive a little more into his brain so i could get a good feel of where this was going! pls enjoy reading bc i really enjoyed writing it, i love a good character study and that’s well and truly what this is!

When Bodhi had seen the dragons after parapet as a first year, he had almost been apart of the group that ran.

They were menacing—terrifying, and for a brief moment, he wondered why more people didn’t have the common sense to turn around in their presence. Leave them be. Simply try something else. Like maybe something that encompassing and powerful should just be left alone.

His anxiety had eaten through every nerve ending in his body until he was barely able to stay on his feet. But he did. He stayed standing, and when Garrick leaned over and whispered to him not to move—lest he incur the wrath of such a colossal beast—he listened. He planted his feet on the ground and kept his head held high. This was his life now. This was the card he had been dealt, and deal with it he would.

It was this attitude that had gotten him bonded to his own dragon: Cuir, the massive green with a quick tail and even quicker tongue.

She was a mother hen if he’d ever met one. Half the time she was making sure Bodhi had an adequate meal and enough sleep, and the other time she was the backbone he’d grown and hardened in the quadrant.

She’d gotten him through all of the hardest things he’d done within the quadrant. His first year had been rough—not incredibly eventful by most standards, but enough to put him through the wringer.

Nothing had made him feel more inadequate than watching all of his friends develop signets while his own lie dormant. Cuir had started channeling almost immediately. Her trust in him was implicit, but he had worried it was misplaced. He worried he would just never develop one. Worried that he would just burn up and never amount to anything.

But there never seemed to be a danger of it. Never seemed to be a surge of power with the threat. He could feel it, and he could channel into lesser magics, but there was no signet. Nothing.

Everyone else in his squad had a signet. They had even been developing and training them. But not Bodhi.

It was only a few weeks before the end of the year, going on a mission for the rebellion and suffering through Xaden’s taunting when he realized his signet had developed. He just hadn’t used it yet.

Xaden had swarmed his feet with shadows, nipping at his ankles like they were viscous animals, and they all watched as the shadows seemed to burn up.

No one was more surprised than Bodhi was.

“Light?” Garrick had asked.

Xaden shook his head. “No, I—I felt that.”

Then, during War Games, he realized what it was.

Some asshole from first wing was a fire wielder, and he had it out for Marked ones. He sent a wall of fire at Bodhi, completely intent on killing him, and Bodhi had thrown his hands up. And then nothing happened. The flame sputtered out, and—oh.

A twist of his hand, and he had rendered the asshole incapable of using his own signet.

The other rider tried again, and Bodhi was intentional with it this time. He twists his hand again, imagining it was a dial on someone else’s power, and he watched as the flames seemed to retreat back into him.

Satisfaction was a tangible thing in his chest. Pride filled his bond with Cuir. There was a roar from someone behind him, and Bodhi couldn’t help but just fucking smirk at the guy.

“Nice try.”

“I’m gonna fucking kill you, Durran!”

“You’re gonna have to try a little harder than that!” Bodhi called as he mounted his green, knowing it was a taunt. He was top of his wing in sparring. He’d lost to one other person during challenges ever. In that moment, Bodhi felt unstoppable.

He suddenly became the most useful tool his squad—hell, his whole wing. Needless to say, they won War Games that year.

The Executive Officer title came as no surprise, not after the display of power he had shown in the latter half of the year. It did, however, paint a target on his back. No one liked that Marked ones were working their way up in the ranks. Him, Garrick, Xaden, they were the pentacle of everything leadership had hoped rebellion kids would never become—good at their fucking jobs.

But Bodhi had decided he refused to show them what they were looking for. Including anything less than perfect. He would be a powerful rider. He would master his signet. He would be a just officer. He would do everything he could to help with the rebellion. He would be the perfect soldier for Navarre, so they could never suspect he was an even better soldier elsewhere.

And then he watched you make a dance of the parapet.

He couldn’t resist the interest that followed, the way you captured his attention simply by being there. You were meant for a stage, not the hardened walls of Basgiath. And yet.

You were incredible. Skilled and talented. You were kind, and witty, and good gods he would give anything to be the center of your attention. You were like a drug he couldn’t get enough of.

So, he made a plan. He would work his way into your atmosphere. Get your attention somehow, manage to win you over. He didn’t know what it was, only that his interest would only be satiated by one thing: knowing you.

Step one: observe. Figure out your likes and dislikes, your habits and interests, who your friends were. Xaden’s weird interest in Violet helped, gave him an excuse. He watched you during challenges, even got the chance to spar with you. Would watch you slip those gloves on your hands every morning as you run to catch up with your squad. Watched you dominate the Gauntlet despite the odds stacked against you.

Step two: get an in. Ané was the cadet in the healer quadrant that always seemed to be stuck with him when he came in with any particularly nasty wounds. A sprained wrist, too-deep cut, and one time, even a broken rib or two he’d gotten on a very much not sanctioned flight to drop off some weapons over the border. That was all his fault, but it was hard to explain away when no one had observed it. But Ané was kind, like you, and when he explained what he’d seen of your hands, Ané seemed to know what it was. And have a solution.

Step three: delivery. It had taken Ané minutes to make a balm for you, and he kept it on him until the next time he saw you. He had felt like he was ambushing you, jogging up to you in the courtyard as you headed back from the infirmary, but he was excited. To say the least. Not being able to do so had never crossed his mind, so when you’d nearly rejected it, he had almost crumbled right then and there. But then you’d taken it from him, and gods, the look on your face—he wanted to bottle the feeling in his chest, the light in your eyes. And when you’d told him about home? Trusted him with little pieces of yourself—the cold you hated, your mom’s role in the damn rebellion, how you’d ended up in the quadrant. The high he felt was better than winning War Games.

Step four: make you like him. You were a hard shell to crack, but he was working on it. He was doing his damndest. He would give you as many little pieces of himself as he could. Find you during Threshing and talk down your anxiety. If you could admit your history to him, he could tell you a little about his. You weren’t Marked physically, but from the burden you carried, you were marked in another way. On your soul.

Step five: make you fall for him. Not that he’d fallen for you. He wasn’t, like, in love with you or anything. He just—liked you. Yeah. Really, really liked you. Cuir thought he was full of shit, but she didn’t know everything. (Even though she reminded him many times that she, indeed, did.) And the more he got to know you, the more he liked. He would teach you how to spar, and make you give him something in return. He didn’t care about flying like you. In fact, you were terrifying in the air. Said you weren’t meant to be a rider and yet you rode like you were born for it. He just wanted to spend time for you. And if he got to touch you while you sparred? In the most innocent way, of course. No funny business. Unless you have the green light, then—

Then you started pulling away.

He missed seeing you for days at a time, sometimes an entire week. He felt it like a phantom limb.

It had only then occurred to him then just how thoroughly you had encompassed every part of him. Just how easily he had gotten you mixed into every aspect of his day. How much he looked forward to seeing you until he was deprived of you. Until he didn’t have access to your wit and your laugh anymore.

Seeing you on the flight field had been nothing less than a shock. He had recognized Shocair before she had even seen them. He was still thinking of the most recent drop when their little group had stumbled across her.

And somehow, deep in his gut, he knew. He knew that if you discovered them, found out what they were doing, that they were working with the resistance… You wouldn’t say a word. In fact, he knew you would jump to help.

Those thoughts had sprung forward without him realizing, and it was like they were caressed, cupped in his head and—it was a weird feeling. Almost like someone ran a hand through the pond that was his mind. Not unlike the one he got around Xaden sometimes. The one that flared something in his channel.

And then Shocair’s wing lifted and you stepped out and Bodhi’s heart about stopped beating. You looked run through. Tired. Still beautiful. Beaten down.

Xaden had gone on offensive, but you handled it with ease. With the support of Shocair, of course. When you said you slept on the flight field, it was like his world had stopped spinning.

Something was wrong, something was deeply, deeply wrong. He would have done anything to fix it.

But you kept icing him out. And it hurt like hell.

He wasn’t going to push, but damn him if he wanted to. There was a moment there where he thought he might have cracked you. But he wasn’t a fire wielder, so he couldn’t melt your ice, and he wasn’t an inntinnsic, so he couldn’t figure it out for himself.

So he walked away. And he felt like a damned coward for it.

[tinytinyblogs]

Hey can you do yandere skz punishments

Punishment time darling

They give you everything you could ever want, but crossing them is a mistake you’ll never want to make.

Hyung line, Maknae line (coming soon)

Stray Kids Masterlist 1.0 & 2.0

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

Chan

Bang Chan isn’t one to act impulsively, not when it comes to you. He’s always calculating, always planning. When you disobey him, he doesn’t explode in anger like someone else might. No, Chan prefers something quieter, something more effective. He believes punishment should teach a lesson, not waste energy. And when it comes to you, he wants you to feel the weight of your guilt, to truly understand why you were wrong. Isolation is his preferred method. It’s clean, controlled, and, most importantly, it works. The first time he catches you breaking one of his unspoken rules—talking to someone he doesn’t approve of, going somewhere without telling him—he doesn’t raise his voice. Instead, he gives you a long, measured look, the kind that sends a chill down your spine. His usual warmth is gone, replaced by something colder, sharper. Later, when it’s just the two of you, he sits you down. The air feels heavy, suffocating. His voice is low and calm, almost tender. “Think about it, darling. I’m doing this for your own good,” he says, his expression carefully crafted to appear apologetic, though his eyes betray something darker. “If I’m not protecting you, who will? This world is too dangerous for someone like you. Without me… you’re nothing.” The words sting, but they also confuse you.

He delivers them with such conviction, such unwavering certainty, that a part of you begins to question yourself. Maybe he’s right. Maybe you were careless, ungrateful even. He leans closer, his hand brushing against yours as if to comfort you. “You’ll understand soon enough,” he murmurs. And then it begins. Subtly, at first. Your phone mysteriously stops working, and when you ask about it, Chan is quick to offer an excuse. “It’s better this way. You don’t need all those distractions.” Your friends start to drift away—he makes sure of it, carefully orchestrating misunderstandings and missed calls until you have no one left to turn to. Your schedule becomes eerily predictable, revolving entirely around him. He insists it’s for your benefit, that it’s safer this way. The isolation creeps in slowly, but it’s relentless. The world you once knew shrinks until it consists of only him. And every time you try to protest, he’s ready with the same disarming smile and soothing words. “I know this feels harsh, but it’s because I love you. You’ll thank me someday.” Yet, no matter how gentle his tone, there’s no mistaking the steel beneath it. Bang Chan doesn’t give second chances. By the time you realize the full extent of his control, it’s too late. You’re trapped, and he knows it. And to him, that’s exactly as it should be.

Minho

If Minho grows quiet and his sharp gaze locks onto you, it’s never a good sign. When you talk back to him or let your emotions run wild, and he remains silent, it’s far worse than anger—it’s dangerous. His silence is not passivity; it’s a storm waiting to unfold. Minho doesn’t like wasting energy, and why should he? When he acts, it’s always calculated, deliberate, and impactful, ensuring you won’t dare to repeat your mistakes. The last time you pushed him, your words came tumbling out in frustration, escalating into a full-blown argument. He listened without interruption, his expression unreadable, the stillness of his body unnerving. Once your words ran dry, he finally spoke. “Are you done?” he asked, his voice eerily calm, laced with a sharp edge. “You’ve been crossing the line lately. You know that, don’t you?” The weight of his words sat heavy in your chest long after he left the room. Sleep felt impossible that night as anxiety churned in your mind. You couldn’t ignore the suffocating feeling that something was coming. And you were right. Just as the clock struck midnight, the sound of your door creaking open made you sit up in bed.

There he was, standing in the doorway, his silhouette outlined by the dim hallway light. His eyes, dark and piercing, met yours, and an unsettling smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Waiting for me, lovely?” he asked softly, stepping into the room with a predator’s grace. Before you could respond, he tossed something onto the bed. The clatter was jarring, and your breath hitched when you realized what it was: your phone, shattered into pieces. “Phone? No more,” he said with an icy smirk. “I wonder what else I should make into pieces. Those stupid plushies you’re so attached to? Or maybe… someone precious?” A soft, humorless laugh escaped him as he leaned closer, his face mere inches from yours. “Remember this, love. No crossing the line. Consider this your warning,” he murmured, his voice dangerously low. “Don’t make me dirty my hands, alright?” His words cut deeper than any shout ever could. Straightening, he glanced at you one last time before leaving the room, closing the door behind him. With Minho, silence was never just silence. It was a threat, a promise, and a lesson. And when he acted, it was always with a precision that left no room for misunderstanding.

Changbin

Explode—that’s the only way to describe him when he’s angry. It’s not subtle or restrained; it’s raw, chaotic, and terrifying. When his temper snaps, it’s like a storm that tears through everything in its path. He throws things against the wall, his voice rising into a roar that makes your chest tighten with fear. The sweet, soft side he usually shows you is gone, replaced by someone you can barely recognize. “You think I’m joking right now?” he shouts, his eyes blazing with fury, so red it’s like all he can see is rage. He plants himself in front of the door, his body a solid barrier ensuring there’s no escape. The once tidy room is unrecognizable—vases lie shattered on the floor, shards glinting in the dim light, papers scattered everywhere. Each crash feels like a knife twisting in your gut, and all you can do is collapse onto the floor, your knees too weak to hold you up. His breathing is heavy, his chest heaving like he’s barely holding back from completely losing control. “Ignore me like that again,” he growls, his voice low and dripping with menace, “answer me without thinking, and next time, I’ll throw you against the wall just like I did those vases.”

The venom in his words makes your heart race, and for a split second, you can’t tell if it’s an empty threat or a promise. Either way, the weight of his fury presses down on you, leaving you frozen in place. And then, just as suddenly as it started, the storm begins to subside. He straightens, his eyes still fixed on you, but the blazing anger in them softens into something almost tender. He takes a step forward, then another, crouching down to meet you on the floor. “Are you alright?” he asks, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant, as if trying to erase the memory of the chaos he just unleashed. You flinch as he reaches for you, but he doesn’t stop. His hands find your face, cupping it gently, his thumbs brushing away the tears that have spilled down your cheeks. “I’m sorry, love. You need to understand how much I love you,” he whispers, his tone pleading. It’s disorienting, the way he shifts from monster to lover, his gentleness so at odds with the destruction around you. “So don’t make me lose my temper again, got it?” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. The warning is clear, and you can only nod.

Hyunjin

Hyunjin has a way of making you doubt yourself, twisting your thoughts until you’re unsure of what’s real. He doesn’t raise his voice or resort to anger—instead, he makes you feel like you’re the one who’s wrong, like you’re the villain and he’s the victim. His charm is intoxicating, but beneath it lies something dangerous, something that leaves you questioning everything about yourself and your relationship. When you upset him, he doesn’t comfort you or address it directly. Instead, he turns it into his own game, one where the rules are stacked entirely in his favor. He knows exactly how to manipulate the situation, how to make you feel like the guilt is entirely yours. His voice is soft, trembling just enough to tug at your heartstrings as he asks, “Do you even love me?” Somehow, he manages to conjure tears—perfect, convincing tears that make your chest tighten with guilt. You know he’s playing a part, that the sadness in his eyes is an act, yet it still works. His vulnerability feels so real, so raw, that you can’t help but question if maybe you truly are the problem. He always knows what to say to make you doubt your actions, and soon enough, you’re scrambling to fix something you aren’t even sure you broke. He doesn’t stop there.

His words cut deeper than any raised voice or angry outburst ever could. “I feel like I’m nothing to you,” he murmurs, his gaze dropping as though he can’t bear to look at you. “Do you even care? Am I just wasting my time here?” The weight of his accusations settles heavily on your shoulders, making you feel like the worst person in the world. And that’s exactly what he wants. For Hyunjin, this isn’t just a moment of hurt—it’s a game, a calculated strategy to make you prove yourself over and over again. You find yourself apologizing, explaining, and convincing him of your love, even when you don’t fully understand what you’re apologizing for. By the time he leans in, brushing a tear from your cheek, you’re already falling into his trap. “Tell me,” he whispers, his voice barely audible but laced with desperation. “Tell me how much you love me. Please… I can’t live without you.” His words are a plea, but they carry a weight that crushes you. It’s not just about proving your love—it’s about erasing the guilt he’s so carefully placed on you. And when you finally stammer out your assurances, he smiles faintly, knowing he’s won. For Hyunjin, victory isn’t loud or violent. It’s quiet, devastating, and entirely unforgettable.

[sulumuns-dootah]

Can I please request a whb king's reaction to actress/actor mc but this time mc is in a dramatically sweet or cringy romance movie as the main lead? With the ending being the main couple having a child time skip cuz like why not (asmo's breeding kink...)

WHB kings w/ a romance movie actor reader

⟡ Masterlist ⟡

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

As much as Satan tries to enjoy the movie, it's not exactly his cup of tea

It will be kinda hard for him to stay focused, but will try his hardest

If there's some drama and maybe fighting that ends with a kiss, he's immediately into it

Also, he hates to admit it, but he's jealous of your co-star

So to somehow keep himself entertained, he'll look for ways to trashtalk them and the things they say

(Pointing out that it's just a script they're reading is useless)

       ༺☆༻

I also don't see Mammon as romance movie enjoyer, but he doesn't hate them either

There are a few romance movies you can get him to enjoy and yours is one of them

Mammon is especially interested in the part where the main couple moves into their dream house

He can't help but wonder what would be your dream home

And don't get me started on the wedding ring

The one that he'll get you, should you want one, will be way bigger and better than whatever that tiny stone was in the movie

       ༺☆༻

Cheesy romance movies are Leviathan's secret guilty pleasure

Sure, he will watch your movie and even like it, but won't tell you he did

His envy gets triggered every time there's a scene between the main couple wiht them touching or kissing

Sure, it's just one kiss on screen, but how many rehearsals and failed shots were there before you nailed it? He doesn't even want to try to guess

If he sees your co-star anywhere around you again, he can't be responsible for his actions

       ༺☆༻

Watching movies with Beel is fun for the same reason it's frustrating to show him the movie you starred in

He'll watch the movie whole, but focus on the exactly wrong thing

It's always something random too

I imagine Beel's the type to make '(a scene)but it just zooms in on random items' movie edits

Will point out background mistakes like missing flowerpots or extras changing clothes mid-scene

Only when it's solely you, centered in the shot, he'll finally pay attention to your character

       ༺☆༻

Belphie tries really hard to stay awake, he really does

But to him unless it's anime, it's kinda boring

Where's the superpowers? the cursed beings? the jojo stands?

If there's Beleth with you in the room, it's to Belphie's benefit

Belphie'll be awake as you're settling in to watch the movie and by the time you stop checking in on him, he'll be out

And then all that Beleth needs to do, is nudge him awake before you start asking for his opinion

       ༺☆༻

Asmo loves cheesy romance movies!

They remind him of his past lover and some of them even have sex scenes

And sometimes you can even cach him on the verge of crying once the big movie climax happens :)

So now that you're playing in one, he's found the one he'll keep rewatching over and over

Ooh, but if there's a sex scene in your movie, the mood drastically changes

Screw the movie... Asmo suddenly feels like rewriting the movie and showing you exactly what he'd do differently (you already know where this goes)

And the movie time skip to children is absolutely one of his favorite parts

Too bad he can't actually make you pregnant bc of his past lover's curse bc he would absolutely love to have a mini army of mini you's running around Hell

       ༺☆༻

If you ask, Lucifer would tell you that he doesn't have a movie preference, but romace movies are one of them

Generally, any movie that he can watch with the rest of the Paradise Lost demons without them arguing over it is a good one

Lucifer loves learning about the human experience so any realistic movie is a nice way of him to find out more

As you show him your movie, he'll watch it carefully and remember from it way more than even you could

The final scene with the main couple and their kids makes him smile

Similarly to Asmo, he can't help but wonder what it would be like to have a mini halfling that looks like the two of you combined, running around

[peachhcs]

the new guy | the wonder years

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

will finds out about samy's new boyfriend kevin after thinking there might be a chance for them after they kissing at her senior year kickoff party

wc: 1.7k

cooked this up because 1. i love wonder years and 2. i don’t think i’ve ever written everyone meeting kevin for the first time (i’m also running out of pics so im resorting to gifs lol)

au masterlist

it was a typical friday night for the boys. they raced home after their game to change and make it to samy's first soccer game of the season that started promptly at 7. their goal this season was to make to every single one of her games that didn't coincide with their own games. ryan's mom's suv was definitely going to be put to good use.

the seven of them piled in and were on the road by 6:15 which was record time for them considering their game just finished at 5:30. will was feeling a bit giddy tonight. he had a great game with two goals and an assist and now he was about to see samy for the first time since last weekend. he was still thinking about that drunken kiss they shared.

he knew they were just playing with one another like back in april during that seven minutes in heaven, but will couldn't help thinking that maybe it meant something more this time. it'd been on his mind since last weekend when it happened and the boy started wondering what exactly the relationship he had with the girl was. they were friends, yeah, but..could there be a possibility for something more?

will's never really thought of her that way. maybe that one time when they were twelve, but that didn't count because they were twelve. all he knew was that she'd been on his mind a lot more recently and he started wondering what it meant or if it was even normal to be thinking of his best friend that much? surely it was because he thought of all the guys in the car with him a fair amount. either way, will was excited to see her.

they pulled into the already full lot exactly fifteen minutes before kick off. gabe was texting marcie and riley asking where they were sitting as they walked towards the bleachers. they spotted the two girls in the student section and quickly joined them.

"i'm surprised you guys made it in time," marcie teased and made room for the seven of them.

"you should've seen will barking us around. he was not playing around," ryan teases the blonde who flushed. he scanned the field for samy.

she was by the bench talking with some of the girls. her captain band was wrapped proudly around the top of her shin before her socks started. will knew how hard samy worked for that honor this season and he was proud of her for finally being able to show it off and lead the girls to another successful season in her last year.

"this should be an easy sweep. central michigan has always had a shitty defense," marcie mumbled as the boys' gazes swept over to the other team warming up.

will's gaze followed the other students in the stands. he recognized some of them from the parties samy dragged him to. being in the student section really made the boys feel like they were in high school which was another reason why they wanted to go to the games because they got to experience high school traditions the dev program didn't give them.

samy finally waved up at the stands to the boys who eagerly waved back at her. will smiled widely when he caught her gaze. he watched her gaze fall to the other side to wave at her parents and then the next person she waved at caught him off guard.

it was a guy with brunette hair about three rows down from them. he was taller and stood with some friends that looked to be on the boy's soccer team. samy was smiling widely at him and will's stomach twisted seeing her wave at him.

but he tried to not think about it too much. maybe he was just  a friend? yeah, a friend. she could have friends. will was thinking about this too much.

the game was a clean sweep like marcie said. samy's team scored three goals, one of them being from samy and she assisted the other two. the students cheered for them as they ran up to the bleachers to give out high-fives before running back to the benches. the students began filing out of the bleachers to meet the players in the parking lot after their post game debrief.

the boys talked with marcie and riley waiting for samy to come out. her parents joined them a second later where ellen and jim happily greeted them and thanked them for coming. will was too immersed in his conversation with drew and aram that he didn't see samy come out and turn her attention to the boy she waved to before the game started.

she greeted him with a warm hug and blushed when he gave her flowers. will didn't see them coming until gabe nudged his shoulder and marcie ran to hug her best friend.

"you played so well!" the girl exclaimed making samy flush.

"thanks for coming guys. i didn't actually think you'd make it on time," the soccer player said the the boys.

"thank will. he got us moving," ryan clapped his friend's shoulder. the blonde smiled softly at her. she returned it before directing her gaze back to the boy will saw earlier.

he quickly noticed the flowers in her hand and the shy expressions on both of their faces. that twist in will's stomach quickly returned as he put the pieces together.

"there's someone i want you guys to meet. this is kevin," samy introduced him and he shyly waved at everyone.

for a second, everyone looked at will while the blonde had a blank expression on his face. the excitement he had earlier started fading as he realized what this meant.

"nice to meet you. we're samy's hockey friends," ryan finally said and held his hand out. he was always the one to break the ice first. kevin shook his hand.

"good to meet you guys. samy talks highly of all of you," kevin chuckled.

will struggled to meet samy's gaze that he knew was on him because she was searching for his approval. he didn't really know what to think.

it was dumb to think that maybe he had a chance with her. samy was right. those two kisses were just for fun because they were drunk half the time anyway. it didn't mean anything and will shouldn't have thought it did. he swallowed and sucked up his pride.

"didn't know samy had a new fling," drew chirped up with a small, teasing smirk.

"we've been talking for a few weeks," the girl giggled and then will's eyes nearly bulged out of his head. a few weeks? she's been talking to this guy a few weeks and they still made out in her friend's bathroom last weekend. were they even official then?

"we've been keeping it on the down low until making it official a few days ago," kevin slung his arm around her shoulders.

will found gabe's gaze beside him. the dark-haired boy spoke with his eyes like he knew exactly what will was thinking. gabe didn't really know about the drunk make-outs will and samy have done, but he could probably take a guess. it was fairly obvious whenever the two came back out of the bathroom. all gabe did was place a hand on his friend's shoulder and offered a tight-lipped smile to the new guy in front of them.

"well, it's nice to meet you, kevin. hopefully we'll see you around more," gabe said.

"we're gonna head out, but thanks a lot for coming guys. i always like seeing you guys up there," samy grinned and walked back through the parking lot with kevin.

ellen and jim wished the others goodbye and safe travels back to plymouth. the boys glanced between one another.

"sorry i didn't mention anything. samy wanted to like..surprise you guys," marcie said and looked at will. everyone seemed to be looking at will.

"it's fine. he seems cool," the blonde finally said.

"i know you guys are..and we tease you guys about.."

"no, we're just friends, you know that. all of that doesn't mean anything to us," will cut marcie off, managing his best smile. the others exchanged quick glances before deciding to let it go for now. they said goodbye to marcie and riley before climbing back into ryan's suv to head back.

the car ride was a bit silent. will stared out the window suddenly rethinking everything. he should've known him and samy's relationship would just be a friendship and nothing more than that. it was stupid of him to even think otherwise. they hardly even talked too. usually, samy would be all over him after the game and wanted to talk until they had to leave.

she just left without even saying a word to him really. that did kind of hurt.

ryan dropped everyone back off at their houses. the two boys walked back into the house in silence. ryan didn't want to prod, but he's also never seen will so quiet before.

"look, i know it's not my business, but are you good?" the brunette raised his eyebrow when they were away from the prying ears of their moms.

"i'm fine, why?" will didn't meet his gaze.

"you're just weirdly quiet," ryan mumbled.

"i'm fine. it's nothing," the blonde shrugged and as much as ryan hated prying, he kept talking.

"look, i know the teasing we make at you is all in good fun about samy, but..i didn't know she was talking to someone. i'm sorry."

"why are you sorry? it's not like we were like together or liked each other," will said quickly and ryan gave him a look that both of them knew the blonde was not telling the full truth or at least that ryan saw right through him.

"right, yeah," the brunette mumbled. they left the conversation at that because ryan wasn't gonna poke anymore. will was left to think about ryan's words and what exactly they meant to him because surely, he didn't actually like samy like that.

right?

[levis-poison-is-my-medicine]

Dreams Don't Lie

(The Tea Lovers Pt. 10)

A Levi x reader fanfic

Crossposted from AO3

It all started with a silly dream. How could it get this out of control?

tags: fluff and humor, silly and sweet, tea-obsessed fem!reader with their head in the clouds (word count: 4.1k)

(Part one) / (Levi x reader Masterlist)

"I know your deepest, darkest secret."

You spun around, trying to pinpoint the source of the voice which had suddenly spoken behind you. But all you found was a cat lounging in the doorway, looking up at you with a sullenly bored expression.

"Nice try. But I don't have any," you replied, slightly bemused. It was true – there was no point in having secrets when you sucked at keeping them.

The cat's tail twitched impatiently. "Oh, but you do. It is a secret so clandestine, so private, that not even you know about it."

"A secret that I don't know about? And what would that be?" You challenged, your tone skeptical. It didn't even make any sense.

The cat took its sweet time before answering, thoroughly licking its paw as if to savor the moment. Then it locked eyes with you. "There's something you love more than tea."

You gasped, horrified. "Take that back!"

"Why should I? You know it's true." The cat looked thoroughly unimpressed by the accusing finger you had jabbed in its direction. "As a matter of fact, it's been true for a while now."

You frantically shook your head, trying to erase the words from your mind. But they kept replaying, growing louder and louder each time, until they melded together in a deafening choir, all chanting the same few words: "There's something you love more than tea."

With a start, you jolted awake, bathed in cold sweat. A wave of relief washed over you when you realized you were safely tucked in your bed, and it had all been nothing more than a stupid dream. You shook your head again. "How absurd," you mumbled. How absolutely, completely, utterly ridiculous. Tea had been there for you when no one else had. It had gotten you through your darkest hours. How could anything possibly hold a candle to that?

But a little bit of doubt remained, gnawing at you. After all, dreams were the royal road to the unconscious, and all that. Maybe your subconscious was trying to tell you something. But what? That you were secretly a coffee person? You shuddered at the thought. How blasphemous.

It was probably just a dream. Still, you were too shaken to fall back asleep, so you got up to brew yourself a nice, hot cup of tea.

When you came back in, your roommates were already awake, getting dressed and ready for the day.

"How come you're up so early?" Nanaba asked in astonishment. You usually slept right through the early morning hustle and bustle, only getting up at the last possible minute.

"It's nothing. Just a bad dream," you replied offhandedly and settled back down on the lower bunk of the bunk bed you shared with Nifa, cradling the steaming cup of tea in your hands.

"Oh yeah? What was it about?" Nanaba inquired.

You sighed. "I don't really know. It was all pretty confusing."

Nanaba gave a brief nod, sensing you weren't too eager to talk about it. She slipped on her uniform jacket and headed for the door.

Without thinking, you blurted out, "What do you love the most?"

Nanaba stopped with her hand on the door handle. She turned around, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

"I–" she began, but Lynne was faster.

"Mike, of course," she snickered.

Nanaba shot her a dirty look, but then begrudgingly conceded, "…You're probably right about that."

"Ha! I know you so well. I may not understand your infatuation with that glorified sniffer dog, but I sure know you."

Nanaba just rolled her eyes at Lynne's playful jab.

"What were you going to say?" You asked Nanaba, still curious.

"Honestly? I don't know. Most likely something different, like my family."

You gave her a puzzled look. "How come?"

Nanaba shrugged. "Sometimes these sort of things can be hard to admit. Other people might even know you better than you know yourself at times."

You turned your cup of tea in your hands, trying to make sense of her answer. "How could someone else know you better than yourself?"

"Well," Nifa chimed in, "sometimes it's easier to see things from a distance. Plus, we tend to lie to ourselves – say the "right" thing instead of the true thing. Like... there's something within us that holds us back from saying what we really feel. Others don't have that barrier."

You nodded thoughtfully, understanding what she meant.

"And what do you love the most?" Lynne asked, a teasing grin on her lips as she dropped down next to you on the bed.

"Tea," you replied without missing a beat.

Lynne snorted out a laugh. "Of course. Why did I even ask?"

But a flicker of doubt remained.

– –

The thought lingered in the back of your mind even during the scout's daily training session. Today, your squad had been assigned to Titan combat training in the woods alongside squad Levi – usually your favorite type of drill. But this time, your mind just wasn't in it.

You halfheartedly slashed at the nape of the wooden Titan dummy in front of you, barely even leaving a mark as you passed it, shooting forward among the trees.

"What the hell was that? That wasn't even a scratch!" Oluo shouted from a nearby tree.

"Huh?“ You hadn't even noticed, too deep in thought to really pay any attention to your surroundings.

"Off your game today?" Petra asked as she zipped past you.

You looked after her with a blank expression, watching as her green cape fluttered after her in the rush of air before it disappeared among the leaves. You couldn't help but wonder: what did Petra love the most? And did she even truly know what it was?

The green canopy blurred around you as you picked up speed, the gas hissing as you pressed down on the trigger. You absentmindedly shot the grappling hooks into another tree, propelling you forward with a jolt.

A Titan dummy sprang into your vision, looming over you like a sudden shadow – too close, and getting closer still. Adrenaline surged through your veins, jerking you away from your daydreams. You twisted to the side to change your trajectory, but it was too late. The hard wood scraped against the side of your body as you veered right. There was a snap, and a sharp, searing pain shot through your shoulder. All strength left your am. You dropped the trigger. Then the world spun out of control.

You were falling, upended, the air screaming in your ears as you barely whipped past a tree. Desperate to regain your balance, you pushed the remaining trigger, releasing the hook you still had control over. In an instant, you were yanked sideways. Branches scratched over your arms and face as you were swept through the underwood.

Then – a sudden lurch. Your downward plunge came to an abrupt stop as the wire of the remaining grappling hook was pulled taut. It made you swing back and forth violently, scraping your skin against the bark of the tree it was attached to, but you were still suspended in the air.

Upside down, swinging like a pendulum. But still.

The muscles in your abdomen strained as you fought to get back into an upright position. But hanging only by one wire, it was impossible.

"Shouldn't have had that dessert earlier," you mumbled to yourself. All that swinging wouldn't have been easy on an empty stomach, let alone one currently doing a headstand. You really needed to come up with a solution, but the blood rushing to your head didn't exactly help.

"Here goes nothing."

You tried to angle your hip upwards into the right direction, then tapped the remaining trigger lightly, sending the second grappling hook shooting toward the nearest trunk. The hook caught, and you were jerked to the side – the swinging finally stopped.

With two wires holding you, you managed to right yourself straightaway.

Now that you had your balance back, it should be easy – you just had to grab the other trigger currently dangling from your left hip, and you'd be back in the game. But as you tried to reach for it, nothing happened. Your left arm refused to obey, hanging limply by your side like a dead weight, useless. You couldn't move it, couldn't grip.

You were stuck.

Without the trigger, there was no way of releasing the left grappling hook. And if you released the right hook again, you'd just go back to swinging back and forth like a giant pocket watch, tethered to a tree for all eternity.

This was embarrassing.

"Um... Help? Is anybody out there?"

No response. You sighed. Screw your dignity. You needed to be out of here by teatime.

With your right hand, you fumbled for one of the signal flares. For training, it was loaded with a purple shell for emergencies. You held it above your head and pulled the trigger, watching the purple plume of smoke erupt into the canopy above.

On second thought, maybe you should go back to swaying between the trees bottom-side-up. If you kept it up long enough, you might pass out, and then you wouldn't have to be awake for the mortifying rescue.

A fully trained soldier. Injured by a titan made from wood. During a routine training session. You would never live it down.

It wasn't long before you heard the familiar high-pitched sound of the wires whizzing through the air, the sharp hiss of the gas indicating someone going at full speed.

You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable laughter and mockery of your pitiable state. But it never came.

Instead, there was a warm hand, expertly palpating your injured arm which still dangled uselessly from your side.

"It's dislocated," someone said flatly. You would recognize that voice anywhere.

"Levi," you exhaled, suddenly full of relief. Everything would be alright now.

You opened your eyes to find his face only inches away from yours, studying it with a frown. He raised his hand as though he was going to touch your face, but stopped short, frozen in mid air. "You're all scratched up." His voice was quiet, almost a whisper, and it sounded strange somehow, too rough around the edges.

"It's nothing," you replied quickly. "Just a few cuts."

"It's not nothing," he said.

There was something in the intensity of his stare that made your face heat up. Or maybe it was still warm from your upside down escapades. You cleared your throat. "Can you help me get away from here? I'm kind of stuck."

Levi slowly lowered his hand, his gaze drifting away. "Press the right trigger." His hand grasped the other one.

"Now?"

"Now."

You pressed down on it, hard, and for a split second, you were falling, but then a strong hand gripped you, sweeping you out of mid-air. Your world turned upside down once again as you were swung over his shoulder. Next thing you knew, you dangled awkwardly over his back, your face brushing against his green cloak.

"Hold on if you can," Levi said firmly. Your fingers closed around the fabric of the cloak, gripping it tightly. Through it, you could feel the straps of his uniform at his upper back, and you held onto them with your good arm, steadying yourself as best as you could.

The air rushed past you as Levi darted through the forest, expertly changing the hand securing your legs every so often to allow him to shoot both hooks.

The uneven weight distribution didn't seem to bother him at all. That was Levi for you.

"You truly are the best," you told him, but it came out muffled from the cloak fluttering into your face every so often. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Levi didn't reply, but you could feel the muscles in his back tensing through the fabric. He had a lot of them.

Your heart was fluttering in your chest and you felt a bit dizzy. It was probably because you were flipped over again. And of course, your upturned brain chose this exact moment to make you think of your dream again.

There's something you love more than tea.

But before you could give it more thought, the wind around you died down, and Levi's feet touched down on the ground with a soft thud.

You had reached the edge of the forest.

Levi started walking, your body still draped over his shoulder, legs dangling over his chest.

"Um, you can let me down now. My legs are fine, I can walk," you said, a little flustered.

"You sure?" He sounded like he was frowning again.

"Yep. I'm positive."

Levi stopped and bent at the knees, carefully easing you down from his shoulder until your feet found solid ground again. You placed your good arm on his shoulder to support yourself against him, shifting to a more upright stance. When you looked up, you realized how close you were to him, your chest pressed to his, your noses almost touching. Somehow, you couldn't meet his gaze, but you didn't move away. You felt his heart beat against yours, rapid and wild.

Maybe it had been strenuous to carry you, after all. He'd made it seem so easy.

"Thank you," you murmured. "For rescuing me. And... " You trailed off. Your hand was still on his shoulder. You squeezed it. "I'm sorry for causing you trouble like that."

"Like I'm not used to it by now," he muttered. "We'll talk about this later. Let's get you treated first."

You nodded, finally meeting his eyes, relieved to find no trace of anger in them. There was something else there, something you couldn't place, but it made your chest overflow with warmth, and you suddenly felt like giving him a hug. So you did. You were so close already, all you had to do was wrap your good arm around him.

You felt the muscles in his back tense under your fingertips. They had to be sore from carrying you. You rubbed them gently until they relaxed into your touch.

"I'm so glad you saved me!" You beamed. There was so much gratitude inside you, you didn't know what to do with it. "Thank you so much, I mean it! And while we're being honest, I was starting to feel a bit scared up there. But when you showed up, I knew everything was gonna be just fine."

"Don't be stupid. You don't know that yet," Levi muttered. "You still have to get your arm examined."

"I know, I know." You gave his back a final pat before you stepped back.

Levi was staring at you with his usual non-expression, his gaze lingering on you even as you started walking to where you'd left the horses.

He was silent the entire way, letting you ramble on about your dreams of becoming a porcelain potter should the threat of the Titans ever be purged from this world.

That silence was abruptly broken the moment you tried to climb on your horse. "No."

You turned around, confused. "No?"

"I'm not letting you ride one-handed."

"Oh come on," you protested. "Have you seen me ride? I could do it free-handed! Besides, Jeanie and I are the best of friends!" You gave the horse's neck a rub.

"This is final," Levi said tersely.

"Fine, if you insist." You took Jeanie's reins. "That's gonna be one hell of a walk."

"We won't walk. You can ride with me."

You shot him a surprised look. "You serious?"

"It's safer that way." His voice was calm, reasonable.

You shrugged. "If you say so."

He made you sit in front of him, your back pressed against his chest, his arms on either side of you. It certainly made you feel safe. But as you calmed down, the pain in your left arm grew stronger, settling into a constant, deep ache that was hard to ignore. The pain sharpened in time with each stride of the horse, making your teeth clench against the waves of discomfort.

Levi seemed to sense your distress. "You're in pain," he noted. It wasn't a question.

"Kinda... getting worse," you gritted out.

You felt his hand on your shoulder, steadying you. "Almost there," he said.

By the time you got back to scout's headquarters, you were ready to have your arm sawed off if that would stop the pain.

Thankfully, the medic had a less drastic plan in mind.

"I'm going to reset your shoulder to get it back into its proper position. It won't be pleasant, but afterwards, it will feel much better."

"Sounds good," you exhaled. "Let's get it over with as quickly as possible."

The medic nodded. "Of course."

She pulled your arm slightly away from your body, her hands firm and steady. The pain spiked, intense enough to make your breath catch. You peered at Levi, who was leaning against the wall of the examination room, his eyes fixed on you. He gave you an almost imperceptible nod, as if to encourage you. You nodded back, silently signaling that you were ready.

With a sudden movement, the medic rotated your arm, making the joint slide back into its socket with an audible pop. A sharp, searing pain shot through your shoulder, making you gasp, but then it faded, leaving behind a sore, tender feeling which was much more bearable.

"You'll need to rest your arm for about two weeks. I'll get you a sling to help keep it immobilized during that time." The medic opened one of the cabinets, perusing its contents for the sling.

Levi pushed himself off the wall and stepped closer. "You alright?"

"Much better," you said with a smile.

He nodded, letting out a soft breath.

The medic returned to help you put on the sling, carefully tying it behind your neck.

"There, all done." She smiled.

"Yay! Just in time for tea."

"There's not gonna be any teatime today." Levi's tone was sharp.

You looked at him with wide eyes. "What? Why not?" You could really use some tea right now. There was still a dull ache in your shoulder, and now that the initial shock had worn off, you could feel the bruises throbbing on your left side where it had scraped against the wooden Titan.

"You're gonna tell me exactly how this could happen." Levi's arms were crossed as he scrutinized you, his eyes narrowed.

"What happened was…I almost flew straight into a training dummy." You scratched your head sheepishly. "I managed to avoid it at the last minute, but I still scraped it."

"Why?"

"I was distracted."

Levi raised an eyebrow. "Distracted by what?"

"I had this strange dream last night, there was this talking cat, and–"

"It doesn't matter," he cut you off. "You don't get to be distracted. If that had been a real titan, you'd be dead."

You nodded. "I know."

"Even in this scenario, you still could've died. Slamming into a wooden wall at the speeds we're moving? If you hadn't dodged–"

"I know that," you said quickly. "It was stupid. Incredibly stupid. It won't happen again. I promise."

For only a brief second, his gaze met yours, brushing you so softly and lightly, it felt like a caress. Then his face hardened. "I don't know if you can. If things like that happen to you during training, maybe you shouldn't be with us on the next expedition."

You stared at him, shocked. "You don't mean that. I've always been nothing but focused during missions. The reason this happened was because it was just training, so I underestimated the danger. It was a mistake. I admit that. But it won't happen again."

"Tell this to Erwin," Levi said curtly. He turned to leave. "You will submit a report about this. So will I. He'll decide from here on. I trust him to make the right call."

The exchange left you frozen in place, stunned.

Going on expeditions was a scout's purpose. Why would he take that away from you?

You shook your head. There was no way you were going to let that happen. You'd talk to Erwin, of course. But first, you had to clear your head. Levi was right: as a scout, you couldn't afford to be distracted. That stupid, silly dream which, for some reason, just didn't let you go – you had to get it out of your mind. It was why you'd ended up in this mess in the first place, taking up space in your thoughts when you should have been focused.

But how? Just turning it over in your mind had done nothing but make it worse. That was when the conversation from this morning popped into your head.

Sometimes it's easier to see things from a distance. Other people might even know you better than you know yourself at times.

You straightened up. Time to ask your favorite scientist for advice.

– –

You entered the lab. It always had a sort of singed smell about it, like something was burning, and today was no exception. The stains on the wall told you there might have been a minor explosion or two.

"Hey-yo!" Hange greeted you with a massive grin on their face, seemingly unbothered by the mess in their lab. As always, it was contagious, and you felt yourself smiling despite yourself.

"To what do I owe the honor?" They put down the beaker they were holding to give you their full attention. When their gaze landed on your sling, they shot you a questioning look, but quickly you waved it off. Later.

"Hange," you began, then hesitated. You took a deep breath. "Do you… Do you think there's something I love more than tea?"

Hange's grin widened. "Something… Or someone?"

You groaned. "Stop it. I'm serious here!"

"So am I. Dead serious, actually." They laughed heartily. "I genuinely think you might be onto something there."

"What do you mean?" You asked curiously.

"Well," they said in a long, drawn out way. "That's for you to figure out. Though I can certainly help, if that's what you want." There was a spark of mischief in their eyes.

"Yep, I definitely want that," you said eagerly. "That's why I'm here."

"Great!" Hange clapped their hands together and leaned forward excitedly.

"Let me start by asking you this: what have you done in your free time these past few months?"

You mulled it over for a few moments. "I guess I've been drawing a lot. Why?"

"That's a very good question! Why, indeed – why have you been drawing so much?"

You shrugged. "It was a good source of income. I needed the extra money."

"And for what, exactly?"

You tilted your head, unsure what Hange was getting at. "To buy Levi the perfect present for his birthday. You know that."

Hange smiled, satisfied. "Oh, you know I do."

You squinted at them, confusion etched into your features.

"Now answer me this: how have you been spending your beloved teatime recently?" They continued, gleefully unfazed by your puzzlement.

"I've been having tea together with Levi…?"

"Exactly!" Hange exclaimed, excitedly pumping her fist into the air.

"Yaay," you said, grinning at her enthusiasm, though you still didn't quite get it. "And that's interesting because…?"

"Don't worry, it should soon become crystal clear! You see, science is all about gathering knowledge and making observations, which in turn build up the basis of an hypothesis. Before we can call this hypothesis a fact, however, it has to be proven by running experiments. So let's do a little thought experiment, shall we?" Hange rubbed their hands in anticipation. There were burn holes in the sleeves of their lab coat.

"Let's imagine there's a giant fire ravaging our sacred headquarters. Can you do that for me?" You nodded. You could also easily imagine who would be at fault for the fire.

"You and Levi are the last people inside, the rest have already evacuated. Which one do you save – Levi or your treasured tea?"

You scrunched up your nose. "That's easy. Levi doesn't need saving."

"Sorry to say, but in this scenario, he absolutely does. Poor guy is passed out due to all the smoke. So which one will it be? You can only save one."

"That's so unrealistic," you protested.

"Just humor me here."

You threw up your hands in mock surrender. "Fine. I'd save Levi, of course."

A face-splitting grin spread over Hange's features. "There you have your answer. You chose him over your prized tea, didn't you?"

Your eyes widened as the realization sunk in. The thing, no – the person you loved more than tea was...Levi.

You loved Levi.

A/n: Yes, it needed a Freudian cat dream and a near-death-experience, where you were literally only hanging by a thread, to get it through your thick skull that you are head over heels for that man :D (or should I say: head over shoulders? By which I of course mean Levi’s strong shoulders xD OK. I’m going to stop now.) Stay tuned for next chapter if you want to know the consequences of your realization xD

Tag list: @thechaoticarchivist, @mmm-alhaitham, @nironasaran, @leviiheichou, @huffleruffplant, @shutupp1, @iifrui, @shakysif, @ickearmn, @omlyurslvi

[hinatastinygiant]

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: Mitsuya's Sketchbook :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

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Mitsuya’s studio is every bit as meticulous and breathtaking as you had imagined. The space is soaked in soft natural light filtering through his windows, lighting up rolls of fabric, racks of clothing, and scattered tools. You’re standing by his work table, admiring the neat chaos of his creativity, when you spot an old, weathered sketchbook among the more professional-looking designs.

“Can I?” you ask, your hand hovering above the sketchbook.

“Sure,” Mitsuya says, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he reorganizes a pile of fabric swatches.

You pick it up carefully, its worn cover is soft from years of use. Flipping through the pages, you’re greeted by rough sketches of dresses, suits, and intricate patterns- some finished, others abandoned midway. One page catches your eye: a design for two tiny dresses and a matching suit, complete with doodles of little stick fingers labeled “Luna” and “Mana”.

“Oh my god, is this from when Luna and Mana were little?” you ask, showing him the page.

He glances over and chuckles. “Yeah. I’ve had that sketchbook since middle school. It’s seen better days, though there’s no way I’d get rid of it."

You pass it back to him, the spine creaking slightly. “It’s falling apart. You should preserve it or something."

“Maybe,” he says, setting it down gently. “I’ll treasure it forever, but yeah, I really do need a new one."

The moment lingers before he picks up a box of charcoal sticks and passes it to you. “Here. Didn’t you say you were running low?"

“I did! Thanks, Mitsuya,” you say, grinning as you take it. “You’re a lifesaver."

He shrugs with a smile. “If you ever need more, you know who to ask."

Before you can reply, Luna’s voice interrupts. “What are you two doing in here?” she asks, her tone teasing as she steps into the doorway with Mana trailing behind her.

“None of your business,” Mitsuya says smoothly, but there’s a faint flush to his cheeks. “Y/N, would you like something to drink while you’re here?” he asks, turning to you.

“Tea would be great. With honey, if you have it,” you reply.

He nods and heads to the kitchen, leaving you alone with Luna and Mana. Before you can blink, they’re plopping you down on the couch and glaring at you with mischievous grins.

“Taka’s got such a crush on you,” Luna says, leaning in close.

Mana nods eagerly. “But he doesn’t know how to tell you ‘cause he’s not sure if you like him back."

“But you do, though, don’t you?” Luna chimes in again.

You blink, heat rising to your face. “I don’t know about that. He’d tell me if he did. Right?"

Luna’s grin widens. “You didn’t answer the question. Don’t you like him?"

“I… well, I…” you stammer, but Mitsuya’s return saves you from having to answer. He sets the tea in front of you, his gaze flicking between his sisters and you.

“No need to get all quiet when I walk in the room. What were you three talking about?” he asks suspiciously.

“Nothing!” Luna and Mana answer quickly before bolting from the room.

Mitsuya sighs. “Sorry about them. They love drama, especially when it involves me. Can’t say I blame ‘em, though. They are in high school, after all."

You laugh, brushing it off. "It's fine. No harm done."

You sip the tea and glance at Mitsuya. You know Luna and Mana aren’t wrong- you have spent the past few weeks with a constant tingling in your cheeks and butterflies in your stomach. But you aren't sure what to do about it either.

Later that week, you sit at your desk, staring at the blank cover of a new sketchbook. With a deep breath, you pick up a piece of charcoal and start to draw. On the top, you write a note in a soft, flowing script.

For Mitsuya-

A creative soul who brings beauty into the world. Thank you for inspiring me.

Below the note, you sketch flowers blooming upward, their petals curling gracefully to the left corner. The process feels meditative, and by the time you finish, the cover feels like a work of art in itself.

Once you’re sure the charcoal won’t smudge, you wrap the sketchbook in simple brown paper and tie it with purple twine. You take it to Mitsuya’s house although slightly nervous. Luna answers the door, her eyes lighting up when she sees the package.

“Is that for Takashi?” she asks, grinning.

Mana peeks over her shoulder, squealing. “He’s going to love it!"

“Is he home?” you ask, glancing behind them.

“Not yet,” Luna says. “You can leave it if you want-"

Before you can decide, the sound of a motorcycle pulling up cuts her off. You turn, and there he is, stepping off his bike. Mitsuya’s eyes widen slightly when he sees you.

“Y/N,” he says, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Wasn’t expecting to see you here. What a nice surprise!"

You take a step forward, holding out the package. “Hey, I brought this for you."

“Oh? A gift?” His brows lift in curiosity as he takes it. “Should I open it now?"

“Sure."

The two of you settle onto the couch while Luna and Mana watch from a not-so-subtle distance. Mitsuya carefully unties the twine and unfolds the paper, revealing the sketchbook. His fingers trace the charcoal flowers and the note, his expression softening with every detail.

“This is incredible,” he murmurs, his voice tinged with admiration. “Thank you, Y/N. For the gift… and for everything."

You swallow, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’m glad you like it."

He looks up, meeting your gaze. "I love it. It couldn’t be more perfect."

A moment passes, and his face shifts, uncertainty clouding his eyes. "Hey, can I ask you something?" he asks quietly.

“Would you like to go somewhere? Just us?” His tone is hopeful, almost shy. “There are some things I’d like to say, and… I think it’d be easier without Luna and Mana around.”

Your chest tightens in the best way. “I’d love that."

Now you’re stepping off the back of Mitsuya’s bike, the salty breeze of the beach greeting you. The sky is dark now, the waves gently lapping at the shore not too far away. You follow him to a quieter spot, the roar of the ocean filling the silence between you.

He turns to you, his eyes warm despite the cool wind.

"I've been thinking, and..." he begins, a slight hesitation in his words. "You know, the thing is, I like you, Y/N. And I have for a while. I'm not exactly sure when it started, but... I want to be with you. If you'd let me."

You stare at him, and he continues. "So... if that's something you want too, then..."

"Takashi."

He pauses, looking at you. "Y/N?"

"I like you, too."

You feel weightless. Like a breath has been released, and a new, bright world is opening before you. Mitsuya's eyes widen slightly, a smile slowly spreading across his face. “Can I kiss you?"

You nod, a rush of warmth washing over you as he leans in. His lips are soft, and the kiss is gentle and sweet. You sigh into his mouth, melting into his arms. When you pull back, you look up at him.

"So what happens now?"

"Well..." Mitsuya smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "I have to confess, I have plans."

"Plans?"

"Yeah. Big plans. And it all starts with a date. Are you free tomorrow night?"

You laugh, warmth flooding through you. "Of course."

"Great," he says. "Then it's a date."

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[augustwinesworld]

𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐯𝐞

why? why? why did it bother you so much?

description: a routine job turns into a deadly standoff when you, Levi, and Furlan are cornered by members of a gang—lucky for them, you’re here to save the day!

pairing: underground! levi x underground! reader

genre: so much unspoken affection, they love each other so much and don't even know it lmao | the reader being a smart cookie

notes: im probably gonna post two more chapters this weekend :) holy shit I hated the first draft of this soooo much, but I hit some inspiration tonight and loved the end result.

word count: 2.8k

extra: moodboard | playlist | ☆:**:. 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐞 .:**:.☆ 

Feel free to #𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 (◕‿◕✿) *:･ﾟ✧ if you have any scenarios in mind! I might not write everything but I’ll respond to everyone.

series masterlist: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭

The job should have been straightforward: sneak into the storage warehouse controlled by one of the mid-level gangs, find the ledger and some valuable items, and get out before anyone noticed.

Everyone had done their part, scouting, exit strategy, and lockpicking. But, as always, everything went to shit right before you were done.

Six gang members, armed and on edge, blocked the only way out of the cramped storage room.

“Well, well,” one of the men said, twirling a knife in his hand. “Looks like we’ve got some rats in the pantry. You got a death wish, or are you just stupid?”

Behind you, Levi’s fingers flexed around his blade. His eyes darted from one thug to the next, probably calculating angles, movements, odds.

Furlan on the other hand, shifted uncomfortably. His own weapon gripped tight.

“Any bright ideas?” Furlan muttered, his voice barely audible.

Levi didn’t answer. His posture was tense, even more so than usual. You knew he was weighing his options, but the numbers weren’t in your favor.

Knowing him, he would probably try to take them all himself—and he probably could—but...you couldn't let it happen.

Why?

Why?

Why did it bother you so much? Levi was more than capable, and if anyone could handle six armed thugs without hesitation, it was him.

So why couldn’t you just let him handle it? Why was your instinct screaming at you to step in, to do something, even if it meant putting yourself in the line of fire?

Your breathing picked up as the men started rounding you up, guns coming closer and closer to your temples.

Your fingers tightened around the hilt of your blade as the thought gnawed at you. Maybe it was his damn arrogance—the way he always acted like he didn’t need anyone, like he could shoulder the weight of the world without breaking.

Or maybe it was the realization, buried deep, that for all his skill and precision, Levi wasn’t invincible. No one was.

You hated the idea of standing back and watching him get hurt, even if he didn’t share the same concern for himself. It wasn’t fair. He didn’t get to make that call alone.

Maybe it was selfish—an unwillingness to feel the sting of guilt if something went wrong.

Or maybe it was something simpler, something you weren’t ready to fully confront: you trusted him, but that trust went both ways. And if you couldn’t step in when he needed it, what was the point?

It didn’t seem right to you, for some reason.

So you took a step forward, lowering your knife slowly.

“Hold on,” you said, your voice calm but loud enough to cut through the comments. All eyes snapped to you. “Let’s not do anything hasty.”

That one man—the self-appointed leader—tilted his head, amusement flickering across his face. “Oh? And what exactly are you offering to stop me?”

“I’m offering you something better than a fight,” you said evenly, letting the weight of your words settle.

Levi stiffened behind you. “What the hell are you doing?” he hissed under his breath.

The leader’s amusement shifted into something sharper, his eyes narrowing as they swept over you. “Better, huh?” His tone carried a crude undercurrent, one that wasn’t lost on anyone in the room.

Levi stiffened further. You could feel his glare burning into the back of your head.

“Trust me,” you murmured under your breath, keeping your focus on the leader.

The leader’s smile turned predatory. “You think I trust you? You think I won’t just take what I want anyway?”

You could see the gears turning in his head, the hunger in his eyes shifting into something darker, more calculating.

He wasn’t considering your words—at least, not the way you’d intended.

No, he thought you were offering yourself. And it made your stomach churn. His smirk widened, crude and confident, as if he’d already figured out what you were playing at.

Of course, he’d assume that. Men like him always did. Always looking for ways to take more, to push boundaries they shouldn’t even be near.

Behind you, Levi’s tension sharpened, his low growl barely audible. “If you think—”

“Relax,” you interrupted, forcing your tone to remain calm, though your pulse pounded in your ears. You couldn’t let this spiral. Not now. “What I’m offering is leverage—not whatever’s going through that head of yours.”

The leader tilted his head, his amusement faltering though not entirely disappearing. “Leverage?” he echoed, suspicion creeping into his voice. “You’ve got my attention, but you’d better make it good.”

You straightened, pushing past the weight of his gaze. “Your boss has been screwing you over,” you said, keeping your voice steady and cold.

The shift was immediate. The gang members exchanged glances, the murmurs starting to spread as doubt took root. The leader’s smirk thinned, his confidence cracking ever so slightly. He was listening now, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

Levi stayed silent behind you, but you could feel his eyes boring into the back of your head, the weight of his unspoken judgment hanging heavy.

The leader’s smirk faltered. His knife lowered just slightly, though his suspicion didn’t waver. “What are you talking about?”

“Why else would he keep a ledger like the one we’re after?” you continued, your voice steady, holding his gaze. “It’s not just to track his deals—it’s to track what he’s skimming off the top. Pocketing what should be yours. Why else would he hide it?”

The room shifted. Uneasy murmurs rippled through the gang members, and the leader’s eyes narrowed further. But then that cocky smirk returned, probably trying to maintain some semblance of control.

“And what do you want?” he asked, his voice low and full of mirth—and something else you didn’t care to name.

"We take this merchandise, disappear, and leave you the proof you need in the ledger. You win. We win. Nobody gets hurt.”

The gang leader studied you, his expression unreadable, though his fingers tapped rhythmically against the hilt of his knife. The tension was thick enough to choke on, and you could feel Levi’s irritation radiating from behind you.

“You expect me to believe you’ll just walk away?” the leader finally said, his tone skeptical.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” you replied, your voice firm, your eyes steady on his. “Think about it. If I was lying, why would I even bring it up? Your boss has been playing you. But you’re smarter than this.”

The gang members exchanged uneasy glances, the murmurs growing louder. The leader’s grip on his knife loosened slightly, though his glare didn’t waver.

You could still feel Levi's gaze on you, heavy.

More murmurs from the gang. The leader’s gaze flicked between you, Levi, and Furlan. Finally, he waved a hand. “Fine. Take the damn stash. But if I see you again—”

“You won’t,” you said, cutting him off with a tight smile.

He motioned for his men to step back. They moved reluctantly, but the path cleared. You nodded, moving toward the stash with Levi and Furlan close behind.

As soon as you were out of earshot, Levi’s hand shot out, grabbing your arm and pulling you to a stop. His eyes were cold steel, his voice sharp enough to cut.

“What the hell was that?” he demanded, his tone low but furious. “You could’ve gotten us all killed.”

You wrenched your arm free, meeting his glare with your own. “But I didn’t, did I? We got the valuables, and we’re alive. You’re welcome.”

“That’s not the point!” Levi snapped, his voice rising just enough to echo faintly in the narrow alley. “You gambled with all our lives, and for what? A shot in the dark?”

“It wasn’t a gamble,” you countered, your tone firm. “It was a calculated risk. And it worked. Or are you incapable of admitting someone else had a good idea?”

Levi’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. “You call that a good idea? He thought you were—” He cut himself off, his glare intensifying as he searched for the right words.

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. “What? Offering myself up? Yeah, I noticed. And I handled it, didn’t I?”

“That’s not the damn point,” Levi hissed. “You shouldn’t have had to handle it at all. That’s why we plan, why we don’t improvise like—like—”

“Like me?” you finished for him, your voice sharp. “Newsflash, Levi: your plans aren’t infallible. Sometimes improvising is the only option.”

Furlan stepped between you both, holding up his hands like a referee stepping into the ring. “Alright, alright, enough. She’s got a point, Levi—it worked. And let’s be honest, it was kind of brilliant.”

Levi shot Furlan a glare that could’ve frozen hell, then turned it back on you. His shoulders were tense, his breathing controlled but heavy. Without another word, he spun on his heel and stalked off, his cloak billowing behind him.

Furlan let out a low whistle, glancing at you with a lopsided grin. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. Remind me not to play cards with you.”

You smirked, though your heart still raced from the confrontation. “Smart man.”

As you watched Levi disappear into the shadows ahead, a strange pang of guilt settled in your chest. For all his sharp edges and impossible expectations, you couldn’t shake the feeling that, in his own way, he’d been trying to protect you. Not that you’d ever admit it—not yet, anyway.

The air was thick back at the hideout. Tense.

You sat at the rickety table, the supplies spread before you as you carefully flipped through everything in an effort to keep count.

Levi stood nearby, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable. He wasn’t hovering, exactly, but his presence was impossible to ignore—heavy, sharp, like a blade waiting to strike.

Furlan had disappeared to another room, muttering something about not wanting to be caught in the crossfire.

The silence stretched, taut as a wire, until Levi finally spoke. “Next time you’re going to pull a stunt like that, give me a heads-up.”

You paused, your fingers resting on the edge of the ledger, before glancing up at him. “A heads-up? Is that your way of saying I did okay?”

Levi’s gaze narrowed, but the sharp retort you expected didn’t come. Instead, he shifted slightly, his arms loosening from their defensive posture. “I’m saying I don’t want to be blindsided by whatever scheme you’re cooking up in the moment.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back in your chair. “So, what? You want me to run all my brilliant ideas past you first? Didn’t realize I needed a babysitter.”

“I’m not your babysitter,” Levi snapped, his voice clipped. “But if you’d told me what you were planning, I could’ve backed you up instead of standing there wondering if I’d have to pull your ass out of the fire.”

The frustration in his tone caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t respond. Was that...concern? You studied him, his eyes hard but not unkind, his stance tense but not hostile. It wasn’t like Levi to explain himself, let alone admit to any level of worry.

“I didn’t think I’d need backup,” you said finally, softer than you intended. “And I didn’t mean to...put you in that position.”

Levi didn’t respond immediately. His gaze flicked to the ledger, then back to you, as if weighing his next words carefully. “You handled it,” he said at last, grudgingly. “But don’t push your luck.”

You blinked, surprised by the rare flicker of acknowledgment in his voice. Was that as close to a compliment as Levi could manage?

“Well, don’t worry,” you said, smirking despite the lingering tension. “Next time, I’ll send you a memo.”

Levi rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath as he turned toward the door. But before he left, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder. “Just...don’t get yourself killed being clever. It’d be a waste.”

Then he was gone, leaving you alone with the ledger and a strange mix of emotions. A waste? You weren’t sure whether to feel insulted or oddly touched.

You shook your head, letting out a low chuckle as you returned to the ledger. Levi might be impossible, but at least now you knew: beneath all the sharp edges and scowls, there was something else—something that, just maybe, made the whole mess worthwhile.

extra scene:

Levi’s grip on his blade tightened as the gang leader’s smirk widened. He hated the way the bastard was looking at you, the way his eyes swept over you like you were some prize he’d already won. Levi wanted to step in, to end this with a single, calculated strike, but the cold press of a gun barrel against his temple kept him still.

The leader’s voice was low and smug, his amusement curling in every word. “Better than a fight, huh? You’d better make it convincing, sweetheart.”

Levi’s jaw clenched, his entire body coiled with tension. He could feel the weight of the gun against his head, the unspoken threat that if he made one wrong move, it was over. For a split second, he considered the angles—the distance, the timing, the likelihood of disarming the thug behind him before the leader could react.

It wasn’t good.

Damn it.

His eyes flicked to you. You stood there, calm and composed, your hands raised in what looked like surrender but wasn’t. He recognized the sharpness in your gaze, the way you were reading the room, calculating. It should’ve reassured him, but it didn’t.

What the hell were you planning?

“Trust me,” you murmured, your voice steady but low.

Levi’s stomach twisted. Trust. Did you even realize what you were asking of him right now? The word grated against every instinct he had, every lesson he’d learned in the Underground. Trust got people killed.

And yet, he stayed still.

The leader tilted his head, his smirk deepening. “You think I trust you? You think I won’t just take what I want anyway?”

Levi’s stomach churned. He knew that look, that tone. He’d seen it too many times in the Underground, on the faces of men who thought power gave them the right to take whatever they wanted. His sharp gaze flicked to you, and for a brief moment, he saw the faintest tension in your stance, the way your shoulders straightened ever so slightly.

Then the leader’s smirk widened, crude and confident, and Levi felt something inside him snap. The bastard thought you were offering yourself.

Of course, he did. Men like him always assumed the worst, always twisted every situation to their advantage. The thought made Levi’s blood boil, a sharp, cold anger surging through his veins.

His jaw clenched, his breathing steady despite the growing rage. He couldn’t act—not yet. Not with the odds stacked like this. But the urge to lunge forward and shut the bastard up permanently burned in his chest.

Behind him, the thug holding the gun shifted slightly, the barrel pressing harder against Levi’s temple. It was a reminder of the helpless position he was in, and it made his skin crawl.

The leader’s gaze stayed on you, his eyes glinting with dark amusement. He wasn’t listening to your words—not the way you intended. Levi saw it in the way the man tilted his head, like he was already imagining how far he could push you.

“If you think—” Levi growled, the warning barely audible. His voice was low, dangerous, a promise of violence he couldn’t yet deliver.

“Relax,” you interrupted, your tone calm but firm. Levi’s eyes snapped to you, his frustration bubbling just beneath the surface.

Relax? Did you not see what he saw? Did you not understand the kind of man you were dealing with? Or worse—did you see it and still think you could control this situation?

“What I’m offering is leverage,” you continued, your voice steady despite the tension crackling in the air. “Not whatever’s going through that head of yours.”

The leader’s smirk faltered, just for a moment, and Levi felt a flicker of satisfaction. But it wasn’t enough to dispel the knot of anger and unease coiling tighter in his chest.

Levi’s gaze stayed locked on the leader, every muscle in his body taut and ready to strike the second the balance shifted. His thoughts raced, calculating the odds, the risks, the variables. If this went south, if the leader pushed too far, Levi would make damn sure he wouldn’t get the chance to regret it.

But for now, he waited, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. The only thing worse than being helpless was being forced to trust someone else to handle it.

Someone who, for all their boldness, didn’t seem to grasp just how dangerous the game they were playing could be.

next chapter↠

© AUGUSTWINESWORLD : no translation, plagiarism, or cross posting.

[ashblooddragons]

The Red Queen (Chapter 14/?)

Series Masterlist

Kingslanding 

113 ac

Your pov

I try to ignore the wails and screams that fills the halls. The swish of maids dresses as they rush down the halls with bloody rags trying to find clean ones. The whispers of courtiers trying to decide if the babe will be a boy or not. 

I try, but I find even a deaf man would hear the wails that fill the keep. 

All this pain for a babe? I think solemnly looking down at my flat belly. To think that one day a babe would one day grow there is baffling. 

“Her Grace needs more hot water.” I hear a frantic maid say most likely to another maid. 

I remember how happy I was finding out I was gonna be a big sister, now I wish I wasn't if only for her. 

Papa and Ali asked for me to come to his chambers. I try to figure out on the way what it could be about. 

Maybe there's gonna be another wedding? Nyra is betrothed to Laenor. I think just before the doors to Papa’s chambers open. 

“Ah wonderful you're both here!” Papa says when I enter. I notice Nyra sitting next to him scowling towards Ali who only hangs her head and twists her fingers.

“Yes we're both here, now what do you need?” Nyra asks in that tone of hers. She's been speaking this way ever since Ali married Papa. I don't get why she blames Ali, Ali said she couldn't stop it even if she wanted to, and it seemed like she wanted to. 

Papa grimaces at Nyras tone before smiling again. 

“I-no we have wonderful news. The Queen is with child!” Papa exclaims taking Ali's hand in his not even looking at her.

I smile ear to ear when I hear this. “I'm gonna be a big sister?” I ask excitedly as I rush over to Ali touching her belly.

I never got the chance before, Papa said Mama was too sick that it just wouldn't happen for a while. But then she did, but then she passed. 

With that thought I look up at Ali worriedly and she seems to notice my fears as she speaks next. 

“The Maesters say it should be a healthy pregnancy. No complications, at least from what they can tell as of now.” 

I smile wider, staring at her still flat belly trying to figure out if I'm gonna have a sister or brother. But then Nyra scoffs and glares at Ali.

“It's only been three moons since your wedding, and you're already with child? Interested.” She says as if she knows some dark secret and is all too happy about it. 

I'm confused why the time between their marriage and the baby being here is important. I mean we all saw them kiss at the wedding, and many times after. It was only a matter of time those kisses made a baby. 

Before Ali can cry from Nyras cruel words or Papa yell at Nyra I decide to speak. 

“This is great, do we know if it's a boy or a girl?” 

This makes Ali laugh as she looks down at me stroking my wild hair back. I know she knows own. I just went for a fly, I had told her that Srromchaser has been sad lately and I hoped a fly would help.

“We won't know until they are born. But what do you hope for?” 

My immediate thought is that I hope Ali lives and doesn't pass away like Mama. But I know I can't say that, this is a happy moment, no sad thoughts allowed. 

“I want a,” I start stopping to think one last time before responding. “Sister!” I decide with a nod.

She smiles down at me, she finally seems happy again. Like the Ali I knew before Nyra was mad at her and Papa married her. 

“Oh but a son would be helpful, don't you want a brother, Darling?” Papa says with a forced grin.

I try not to frown at his words, Papa always wanted a son I never understood why though. 

But what made me the most upset was how his words took away Alis smile. She was finally happy and he just had to ruin it. 

I'm brought back when the screams finally stop, I feel my heart stop, I can't breathe.

Why is it so quiet? Shouldn't there be a babe crying? Surely if I can hear her screams all the way across the keep I would hear a babes cries? I think frantically as I climb out of bed clutching my Caraxes plush. 

I move to open the door only to find Ser Criston. He doesn't seem to have noticed me having seemingly also been co fused by the sudden quiet. 

“Is she alright, oh please say she's alright Criston.” I beg tears rolling down my cheeks. 

He looks down at me frowning before kneeling and taking my hands in his much larger ones. 

“I don't know, but I am going to find out. Stay here, a guard will be in front of your door. I will be back as soon as I can with news.” Ser Criston says before standing and turning down the hall in search of a maid or maester with news.

I try not to think about how he didn't say good news, only news. I know there is a chance she could die, but I prayed, I prayed so much she wouldn't. I prayed to the Seven like she taught me, to the old gods, I even tried to pray to the Valyrian ones like Kepus taught me. So surely one of them heard me and will follow my prayers. 

I turn back into my chambers wiping my tears walking towards Orchid. She quickly sits me in her lap showing me the new hat she made for her son Noah. 

“I was thinking of putting little stars along the hem, and for his sister Clover well she will have flowers. She says trying to distract me from the cruel wait to know if all is well. 

I nod my head as I move Caraxes wings up and down pretending he is actually in the skins and not just a plush in my arms. 

Kepus wouldn't make me wait this long, he'd let me know right away. I think eyeing the door for any moment when finally after what feeling like moons a knock comes to the door.

“The Queen awaits you, Your Grace.” I hear Criston say through the door. 

Orchid quickly sets me on my feet and slips my wool slippers on as well as my silk shawl ‘to keep the cold away’ she says. Before running to the door with Caraxes still clutched in my arms.

“Is she alright? Is the babe? Oh please tell me they are alright!” I plead as he takes my hand in his guiding me towards the Queen's chambers. 

He smiles down at me before nodding and I feel all the worry leave my body. I fight the tears of relief that they are alright, that they are still breathing, that they hadn't passed like Mother and Baelon did. 

I can't help but notice all the courtiers who stand outside the Queen's chambers. I hear them whisper about how if it's a boy it would be the heir. 

If it's a boy it would be heir? I wouldn't feel all this stress anymore? I wouldn't have all of court watching me? I think excitedly before remembering that if it is a boy it will feel all this stress, fear, and crushing weight on him.

No please don't let it be a boy, I don't want anyone to feel this, let alone a innocent babe. I pray to any gods that will hear me.

Ser Ceiston pushes them all out of our way until we yet to the doors. 

“The Queen and King are excited to see you.” He says before opening the door and letting me in.

I step in taking in the sight of Papa talking to maester about something, and of Ali holding a bundle of blankets in her arms. I watch with bated breaths as she lifts her head to look at me. Her smile lights the room from its pure joy. 

“Come here.” She says waving me over. 

I waste no time running over to her tears of relief finally rolling down my cheeks. I climb into the bed sluggling into her side crying into her chest.

“What's wrong, Sweetheart?” She asks stroking my hair back so she can wipe my tears as they fall.

“I thought something bad happened, that you would be like-like.” I can't even finish the sentence but thankfully she seems to understand as she hums before responding.

“Me and your brother are perfectly fine.” She says and I can't help but look up at her wide eyed.

“I have a baby brother?” I ask looking down at the black and gold blanket again. 

“Yes, his name is Aegon.” 

I smile big as I move the blanket to the side to see his chubby cheeks and silver gold wisps. 

“Like the conquer. I love it.” I say stroking his cheek. 

His skin feels so soft, so fragile, like the finest silk. His cheeks are red and he seems to be asleep as his eyes are closed and he has yet to open them. 

“I'm glad you like them, now I have two wonderful children. You and Aegon.” She says and I freeze turning to look up at her. 

I see the joy bit also the fear in her eyes. But I don't know why she is afraid, I would be over joyed to be her child as well.

“Well we are lucky to have such a good Mama.” I respond and I see her wipe at her eyes fighting tears. At first I think she is sad but then she smiles and kisses my brow and I know they are happy tears. 

“Can I hold him?” I ask to which she nods telling me to sit with my back against the head board and hold my arms out in front of me. 

When Aegon is set into my arms I'm shocked how heavy he is. He's so tiny surely he isn't that heavy? I think looking down at him once he is in my lap. 

“He's so cute.” I whisper excitedly to Ali.

“He truly is.” She says shifting her position only to whince in pain. 

I frown going to ask if she is alright when she kisses my cheek and looks down at Aegon again.

“He looks just like you. Just with Papa’s hair, and I don't know what his eyes look like.” I whisper to her.

“You think so? All of the men say he looks like the King. And I hadn't gotten a close look at his eyes, but I do know they are purple.” She says stroking Aegons nose making him scrunch it up in annoyance making us both giggle.

It always strikes me as odd how she always refers to Papa as ‘the King', they are married and yet they only call each other by their titles. King, Queen, Wife, Husband, anything but their names or a sweet nickname. But instead of bringing it up I shrug it off like always looking down at my little brother again.

“I'm your big sister, I'll always protect you. Even when your big and strong, I'm gonna protect you from the bad people here. I'll guide you, teach you Valyrian, I even have toys you can pick from. Just not my Caraxes and Stormchaser plushes. Oh and not my dolly either, she looks just like me, even had my eyes.” I whisper down to him excitedly.

In my excitement I miss how Nyra walks in only to storm out once she hears its a son. But what I wish I didn't miss was how Papa stares at Aegon with disdain, and how the Hand looks at him like a tool. But Ali does, and because of this she holds me and Aegon closer silently swearing to the gods to always protect us even if it meant her demise.

Special thanks to my bestie @sugutoad for making the header for this fic! I swear I'd be lost without you girly!

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