#more like it crossed my mind as i was doing that

[beloveds-embrace]

Human!Reader being traded to Fae!Price to keep the peace. Like I heard once in ancient China, actual royal daughters wouldn't be married off, other girls would be married in their place, so maybe reader's parents volunteered her to be married instead of the king's beloved daughter?

see you perfectly get me 😩😩 i hope you don’t mind me using this as a chance to yap <3

The fae had no love for you.

You had known this from the moment you stepped into the obsidian palace, its towering spires slicing through the mist-laden sky like blades. You had been dressed in human silks then- pale, delicate, and utterly wrong in a court where darkness was beauty, where even the air shimmered with otherworldly grace. The moment you crossed the threshold, every gaze in the room had cut into you, assessing and dismissing in the same breath because not a single one of them wanted a human amongst them- least of all as their queen.

The words had not been spoken aloud, but you had felt them all the same, woven into the murmurs that rippled through the court. They had expected the human king’s beloved daughter (even if they would have hated her all the same), a princess groomed for diplomacy, raised in luxury. Instead, they had been given you- the daughter of an unimportant noble, a substitute barely trained in courtly graces but more than capable with ink and parchment, a woman who had spent years buried under the work the princess refused to do.

They had not wanted you.

And neither, it seemed, had your husbands.

King John Price, your husband, had barely acknowledged you beyond what duty required. He had spoken the vows in the old tongue, words and sounds you could never hope to replicate with a human tongue, and sealed the marriage with a kiss so fleeting it barely brushed your lips, then turned away to his own husbands- also yours, but they weren’t kings, so no kiss was required between you and them.

(The concept was still so strange to you. Humans practiced monogamy at the very least, in public- yet you had learned fae cared very little for such things.)

They were his advisors; Johnny, Simon, Kyle, and they were no different. They were powerful men, sharp as the wind over the mountains, and just as untouchable.

You were an outsider, a human intruder in a world where every glance from you was considered an insult, every word a nuisance.

They did not mistreat you, no. They simply ignored you, and you told yourself that it was worlds better than being hurt anyways… even if the loneliness hurt.

And so you threw yourself into the work. The human princess had forced all her duties on you for years, and it was no different here- except now it was fae treaties, fae disputes, fae taxes, all of which they happily let you drown in. You handled it all without complaint. The paperwork was easier to deal with than the loneliness. And if they noticed the way you handled the endless the endless paperwork that the court so conveniently let pile up on your desk, they gave no indication.

You were a human among fae. And in their eyes, that made you insignificant.

Your days blurred together in a haze of ink-stained fingers and stiff-backed chairs, the weight of the crown heavier than you had ever imagined. It might have continued that way- silent, distant, suffocating- if not for the day the Queen Mother descended upon you.

She despised humans. You could see it in the way she sneered at you, the way she spoke as if addressing something beneath her. But she was old, cunning, and- unlike her son- unwilling to let a political marriage go to waste. She had entered your chambers one evening without announcement, her presence crackling in the air like a brewing storm.

For a long moment, she had said nothing. And then:

"You look human."

You had stiffened at her tone. It was not a compliment.

"That is your first mistake."

She had circled you then, her gaze stripping you bare. "The court despises you. My son ignores you, as do his husbands- they do not even see you. Why?"

You had swallowed, resisting the urge to drop your gaze. "… Because I am human."

A flicker of a smile, cold and knowing. "No, child. Because you make no effort to be anything else. You are no longer within humans.”

That night, your wardrobe was stripped away- every pale gown, every soft fabric, every piece of jewelry that marked you as human. In their place, the Queen Mother had garments brought in that dripped with fae elegance.

Your dresses were no longer delicate, but sharp—cut to flatter the lines of your body, corseted to perfection, woven with fabrics darker than midnight and embroidered with silver-threaded fae flowers that shimmered when they caught the light. Your silks no longer billowed, but clung, whispering around you like shadows given form.

Your jewelry transformed you further. Earrings that mimicked the elongated points of fae ears, tapering into elegant curves. Rings shaped into sharp, clawed talons that gleamed when your fingers moved. Tiaras twisted into the illusion of horns, their dark metal twining like the antlers of the fae lords. Even your hair was adorned with woven fae flora, petals shifting as though alive.

When you stepped before the mirror, you barely recognized yourself.

You were still human. But you no longer looked like prey.

The court noticed first. The whispered mockery did not cease, but it changed- less scornful, more wary. Some sneered that you were playing dress-up, but others looked twice, their gazes lingering in ways they never had before.

Your husbands were slower to react, but when they did, it was irreversible. It was the point of no return- even if you did not know it at the time. Did not once suspect this had been the Queen Mother’s plan from the start.

Johnny cracked first.

One evening during another dinner where you were supposed to be ignored once more, as you reached for a goblet, he caught your hand- his calloused fingers brushing the rings now shaped like talons. His thumb grazed over the curved metal, blue eyes flicking up to yours with something thoughtful, something curious.

“…This suits you, lass."

A simple statement. But his touch lingered a moment longer than necessary. You did not allow yourself to think more of it, as he eventually turned away from you and returned to ignoring you.

Kyle was next. It was not the rings he noticed, but the way the darker fabrics shaped you, the way the fae silks whispered around your form when you moved. His sharp gaze assessed you, and when you met his eyes, he hummed- low and appreciative.

"Fascinating."

Simon was the hardest to read, but you caught the way his head tilted slightly when you walked past him, the way his gaze lingered on the flowers adorning you, unreadable but lingering. He did not speak on it. He never did speak to you, not eveb now. But he watched.

And for the first time since your marriage to John, he truly looked at you; not past you. Not through you. But at you.

The next time you stood before him, spine straight, chin lifted, cloaked in the elegance of the fae, John leaned back in his seat, exhaling slowly. His eyes raked over you in quiet thoughts, but there was something different this time- something sharper, darker.

You had changed.

And the court had noticed.

He had seen the way the nobles looked at you now- the way their gazes lingered too long on the curve of your throat, the bare skin exposed by the daring cut of your gown. The way their admiration had shifted, no longer dismissive but hungry. Once, they had sneered at your presence, insulted by the mere thought of a human in their midst. Now, they sought your attention, vying for your favor with soft smiles and murmured compliments.

It soured something in him.

His fingers curled against the armrest of his throne, a slow, thoughtful movement. He knew he had no right to feel this way. He had ignored you first. Had dismissed you, had treated you as a necessity rather than a wife. And yet-

He did not like the way they looked at you.

From the corner of his eye, he could see the way the others reacted as well. Kyle’s jaw was tight, his gaze sharp whenever a noble leaned too close. Johnny had grown restless, the usual brightness in his eyes dimming whenever he caught another fae whispering to you, their voices dipped too low. And Simon was a shadow at the edge of the room, silent, unmoving, but his cold stare was a warning, his claws tapping idly against the hilt of the dagger at his belt.

They saw it, too.

You were theirs.

And now, far too many in this court seemed to be forgetting that.

John’s grip on the chair tightened before he forced himself to relax, schooling his expression back into something unreadable.

Well, he may have been a neglectful husband to you in the beginning… but no time better than the present to fix his mistake.

[div6down]

CHRIS X READER QUICKIE IN THE SHOWER BLURB (18+)

you should’ve know better then expecting to take a normal shower when staying over at chris’ because of fucking course they have an ongoing war over who takes a shower and timing it at that.

you stood in the middle of his bathroom, maxed out with the eucalyptus scent of his body wash and steam curled around the edges of the foggy glass blurring your vision of chris, who stood beneath the shower, head tilted back allowing water to run throughout his body.

he cracked an eye open and turned down his music, noticing you in nothing but a towel and your usual annoyed expression.

“um, yeah?” his voice was lazy like he was seconds away from falling asleep mid-shower. “ya don’t fuck with knocking no more?”

“chris when am i taking my shower?” you asked, arms crossed over your chest, holding the towel in place.

“relax ma, you just gotta’ wait.”

“no, i’ve already been waiting for two hours, im tired n’ i wanna’ shower before i knock out.”

chris exhaled dramatically but not budging from his spot, “guess you should’ve went when i told you right?” he said in a teasing tone, you could detect his low laugh through his breath.

“chris. shut the fuck up, being sassy and shit.” you rolled your eyes at his remark, actually starting to regret not taking him up on his offer to shower earlier.

he grinned, running a hand over his wet hair, “you tryna’ fight me over the shower right now?”

“i didn’t think i’d have to wait on matt too, get your shit fixed,” you groaned and rubbed your temple.

a beat passed before chris huffed and sticks his head out the glass door, hand out and waiting for you to jump in, “fuck it, get in.”

“no,” you shrug simply.

“no? s’not like i haven’t been inside you or anything” he absentmindedly joked, not caring how agitated you were at the moment.

you narrow your eyes at him, “i want to actually shower, chris.”

“and you can do it now or in bout’ a hour, which one baby?”

you hesitated.

then sighed in defeat, unwrapping yourself from the towel and throwing it on the rack. chris watched with a satisfied expression and a smug smirk, knowing he would get his way regardless.

taking your hand, he pulled you in, hot water immediately hitting your skin, welcoming relief and relaxing your muscles after the long day y’all had.

chris stood close behind, his body heat mixing with the steam of the water and his gaze fixed on you.

“stop lookin’ at me” you pointed out, reaching for your vanilla body wash.

“you in my shower, ma”

you rolled your eyes again, but felt the way your stomach flipped. the tension was so sexual and thick, undeniably built up in the small space.

your tried to ignore it, bending over, minding your business and scrubbing suds all over your lower half.

chris shuffled closer, his breath heavy and fingers trailing down your sides and resting low on your hips, slow and deliberate. “since y’already here…” his voice dripped with lust, low and raspy whispering in your ear.

“move, babe—”

you couldn’t even finish your sentence, he was already gliding his tip between your folds, teasing you slowly. your now pressed against the cool tile, chris turning your head to his and connecting your lips. the water ran between you, but neither cared to move.

your body felt like it was on fire as chris’ hands mapped their way around it not missing an inch of you and finally slipping his full length into your sopping cunt, eager to suck him in all while maintaining the sloppy kiss.

“ohhh, fuuuck” chris groaned out, his head thrown back to the ceiling and mouth hung open while your gummy walls clenched around him, squeezing him in so tight like you were perfectly made for him.

“mmh, chris” your eyes rolled to the back of your head, feeling his tip kiss your cervix over and over again. your shower sponge was long forgotten as chris held you up by your neck, leaving traces of saliva as he kissed it and fucked into you at the same time.

you looked down at your bodies colliding, water droplets bouncing off your pelvis’s and splashing you in the faces while your overwhelmed with pleasure. your whole body is leaning on chris, allowing him to plow as deep and fast as he needed.

growing worn out you laid your head on his shoulder and panted out, barley audible, “you’re.. sucha’ liar…”

you gasped feeling your arousal build up in your stomach and moans bubbling in your throat.

“i didn’t lie baby, jus’ tricked ya” chris grunted lowly and moved his hand from your jaw to your mouth, attempting to muffle your outburst of moans. he brung the other hand down to your clit, messaging quick circles causing you to shake in his arms.

“cum—cumming”

“shh…that’s my good girl, you gonna’ squirt f’me baby?”

chris choked out groans as he thrusted his cum deep inside, stopping and releasing your juices with each movement while you creamed all over his dick, leaving strings and streaks of your cum as he fucked both of your through your orgasms. “fuck, fuck, fuck..”

“ugh, chrisss,” you whined out his name as you felt yourself come down from your high. chris began to loose his rhythm, the constant slapping noise fading out and revealing loud thuds followed by nicks voice echoing from upstairs.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?”

you froze like a deer in head lights as chris sighed against your neck, “awe shit.”

“YOU TWO ARE ACTUALLY RIDICULOUS, GET THE FUCK OUT THE SHOWER,” the hollering got even louder, honestly impressing you, so loud that it sounded like he was right outside the door.

chris carefully slipped out of you, legs still twitching and pussy so sensitive to the touch.

“he’s so dramatic.” chris muttered behind your neck, using his hands to stabilize you on the floor.

“chris, you could’ve just gotten out the shower and we wouldn’t be in this situation”

he glared at you for a second before sending a slap to your ass while you climbed out the shower, “nah, don’t start complaining now, y’know what you were doin’.”

𓂃⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ 𝒯𝒜𝒢𝐿𝐼𝒮𝒯 𓂅 𝑀𝒜𝒮𝒯𝐸𝑅𝐿𝐼𝒮𝒯 𓂅

© divadown 2025

[joemama-2]

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader

synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 12.3k

tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation

series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter < spotify playlist

YEAR: FEBRUARY, 2018

You don’t think you’ve ever felt more scared than you do at this current moment. No screams from your mother, preparation for a big exam, nothing. None of it compares to the way your hands tremble, your heart racing faster by the second, followed by a sinking feeling in your stomach. You gulp, sweat falling down and stinging your eye, but you don’t wipe it. All you’re focused on is the tiny, white stick in your hand. The even tinier two lines stare back up at you, laughing in a taunting way that almost makes you hurdle it across your room. 

Pregnant.

You’re fucking pregnant. 

“God…oh…oh my god, no…no, this can’t be—”

“Y/N! Did you not clean the rice like I asked?!”

Your mother’s angry voice snaps you semi-back into reality. You gasp with a jolt,  head swiveling around. “Shit, shit, shit,” you mutter to yourself in a dazed panic, hearing the approaching steps of hers coming to the bathroom door. Without any other solution, you lodge the pregnancy test into the pocket of your sweats, flattening out your oversized sweater and praying to whatever gods that are watching that it doesn’t slip. You open the door just as she’s about to yank it open. “Sorry, I…I forgot.”

She eyes you with suspicion, her sharp gaze flickering over your face. "Forgot?" she repeats, arms crossing over her chest. "What could possibly be more important than doing what I asked you to do?"

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to meet her eyes despite the suffocating weight pressing down on your chest. "I just—I'm not feeling well," you lie, trying to keep your voice steady. "I was gonna do it in a minute."

Her frown deepens. "Not feeling well?" She clicks her tongue, shaking her head. "You're always holed up in here, wasting time. Get out of the bathroom and go wash the rice before my date gets here."

You nod quickly, brushing past her, heart hammering so hard you're sure she can hear it. The test in your pocket feels like a burning secret, each step making it press heavier against your thigh. You rush to the kitchen, hands clammy as you reach for the bag of rice.

Pregnant.

The word echoes in your mind, taunting, terrifying. You grip the edge of the sink, squeezing your eyes shut. This isn't happening. It can't be. You don't realize your breathing has turned shallow until you hear the faintest of footsteps behind you. "Y/N," your mother's voice is sharper now. "Why are you just standing there?"

Your eyes snap open. You force your fingers to move, pouring the rice into the bowl, submerging it in water. The grains slip between your fingers as you swirl them around, but your mind is far, far away. “Sorry, Mom.”

She scoffs and walks over to plop onto the couch. 

What are you going to do? And the better question is, how in the fuck are you going to tell Satoru?

You remember going over to his that night, considering his parents were once again out of the country for business. Even driving there, you felt the need to pull over because your wobbly hands were inhibiting you. Somehow, you persevered and made it to his estate. Quickly hopping out of the busted-down 2001 Toyota pick-up truck, striding over to the front door. He must’ve seen you through the window, opening it before you could knock, with his usual smile. “Hey, baby, I mis—”

You push past him to go inside, scrubbing a hand over your face. 

Satoru pauses mid-sentence, blinking as he watches you storm inside. His usual playful demeanor falters when he catches sight of your expression—wide, panicked eyes, lips pressed into a thin line. “Uh… okay?” he mutters, shutting the door behind you. He turns, arms crossing as he watches you pace back and forth in the grand foyer, your hands running through your hair like you’re trying to hold yourself together. “Are you gonna tell me what’s going on, or do I have to start guessing?”

You stop abruptly, looking at him. Your throat tightens, and your nails dig into your palm. Just say it. Get it over with.

But the words refuse to come out.

Satoru’s brows furrow. His teasing lilt is gone now, replaced with something softer—concerned. He steps toward you slowly, hands reaching out but stopping just short of touching you. “Y/N… what happened?”

You take a deep breath, fingers curling around the pregnancy test still hidden in your pocket. Your heart pounds so loudly that you swear it echoes off the expensive marble floors. Your eyes water, but you force yourself not to shed any tears. Not now, at least. “I…there’s something I have to t-tell you, Satoru.”

He tilts his head slightly, white lashes fluttering as he studies you. The concern in his expression deepens, but there’s something else—anxiety, maybe. You’re not sure, and you don’t have time to analyze it. Your fingers tighten around the test like a lifeline, the plastic digging into your palm. Your entire body is tense, stiff like a tightly coiled wire that could snap at any moment. The air between you is thick—too thick—like the walls of the estate are pressing in on you, suffocating you beneath their weight.

Satoru notices. He always notices.

His hands fall to your shoulders, firm yet gentle, his thumbs grazing over the fabric of your sweater in slow, soothing motions. “Y/N,” he says your name again, softer this time. “You’re scaring me.”

You swallow hard, willing yourself to look up at him. His gaze is piercing, searching for something in yours, and it only makes this harder. He looks so young, so unburdened, like he hasn’t even considered the possibility of the life-altering news you’re about to drop on him. And that makes you feel even more terrible. Your breath hitches as you pull the test from your pocket, your hand trembling as you hold it out between you. The two little pink lines stare up at him, just as they had at you hours before.

Silence.

Satoru doesn’t move at first. He just stares, like his brain is struggling to process what’s right in front of him. His lips part slightly, then close again. The usual easy confidence, the endless supply of teasing remarks—it all vanishes in an instant. His hands slip from your shoulders, falling uselessly to his sides. “...Is…is this real?” he finally breathes out, voice uncharacteristically quiet.

You nod, your throat too tight to speak.

His eyes dart back to the test, then back to you, something unrecognizable flickering across his face. For the first time since you met him, Satoru looks… lost. The strongest man you’ve ever known, the boy who never seems to falter, suddenly looks like a scared kid. That terrifies you even more.

“Shit,” he murmurs in thinly veiled panic, grabbing the test from your hands and looking closer. As if doing that will magically make the two lines revert to just one.

You almost want to scoff at his initial reaction. Shit. The word you say when you do something wrong or when you make a mistake. Though, you’re not surprised. How could you be? Why would he be happy right now? Why would he want a child at just twenty-one with someone like you, of all people? But the reality starts to sink in even more as you gauge his reaction. The furrow of his brows, the way his lip pulls downwards, the agitated hand he runs through his messy hair, then the shaky exhale he lets out when he looks at you. Nothing is said, not that it needs to be. Your eyes blur with tears, and your heart twists at the fact that he looks this close to telling you to get rid of—

“What do you want to do, Y/N?” 

His voice cracks slightly, low and steady, but the tension in it is unmistakable. The words hang in the air between you, heavy, unspoken fears weighing on both of you. It’s not a question of blame—there’s no accusation in his tone. But there’s a raw vulnerability in it, as though he’s searching for an answer he doesn’t know himself. You swallow hard, struggling to find your voice again. You almost don’t want to answer. You don’t want to say the words out loud because hearing them could make this all feel too real. Too permanent. Your eyes drop to the test in his hand, the two lines mocking you like they were always meant to be there, unyielding, undeniable.

You don't know what to do. You don’t know what the right choice is, and that's the part that terrifies you the most. 

“I—I don’t know,” you whisper, your voice cracking on the words. It’s the truth. You don’t know what you want. What you can want when the ground beneath you feels like it’s shifting, crumbling. But you should know, right? You know, having a kid right now is the last thing you should ever think of, especially with a boy you’ve only been dating two years. So then, why are you still hesitating? 

The silence stretches long, and all you can hear is the rapid pounding of your heart, the heavy rhythm of his breath matching yours. You watch him closely, his gaze flickering between the test and your face, eyes searching, unsure. His lips press into a thin line, his jaw tightening with the weight of something neither of you wants to confront but both of you can’t avoid. For a second, he doesn’t speak, just looks at you. He seems to be considering something, maybe weighing every possible outcome, every potential consequence. Then, as if making up his mind, he shifts closer to you, his presence overwhelming, his warmth enveloping you. You didn’t expect it, but the way he steps into your space feels grounding—like he’s silently promising to bear this weight with you.

“I’ll be here,” he says, his voice quiet but firm. “Whatever you decide... I’m here. We’ll figure this out.”

His words feel like both a relief and a burden, and you can’t help the hot tears that sting your eyes as you look up at him. You want to believe him. God, you want to believe him. But there's a part of you that feels like this is the moment where everything could fall apart. The moment where reality finally crushes everything that was once easy between you two. “I don’t know if I can do this, Satoru,” you confess, your voice barely more than a whisper. "I don't even know if I want to." The weight of your words crashes down on you both. You never expected this. You never thought you’d be here, standing in front of him like this, unsure of everything.

Satoru doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he gently squeezes you tighter, his grip steady and warm. It’s all he has to offer for now. And, somehow, it’s enough. For the first time, you realize he’s not trying to force an answer out of you. He’s just... here. And for the moment, that might just be the thing you need the most.

The air feels charged, thick with unspoken promises.

Satoru takes a step closer to you, his eyes searching yours. “You don’t have to make any decisions right now,” he says, but his voice cracks at the end, and it feels like he's trying to convince himself more than he's trying to comfort you.

But you feel it in your chest—the fear, the doubt, the uncertainty of everything. “I just… I don’t know what to do,” you whisper, your breath hitching with the weight of it all. "I never thought this would happen. I never thought—god, we’re so stupid, so…so fucking stupid. If my mom finds out—"

“She’s not going to find out,” he cuts off your rambling, his hands cupping your face. A mix of uncertainty and determination is written on his face. “She…she won’t okay? You, um—you stay here until we figure things out. The guest house in the back, it’s yours for now. I’ll make up some shitty excuse to my parents, and you do the same for your mom. O-okay?” 

You blink rapidly, trying to make sense of his words as they rush past you. His hands on your face are warm and grounding, but you can feel the tremble in his fingertips. His words, though filled with urgency and a bit of fear, somehow settle inside you like a strange, fleeting comfort. He’s offering you a solution, a way out of this terrifying uncertainty, and yet the weight of it still feels like it could break you at any second. 

"I don’t... I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be doing, Satoru," you whisper, your voice cracking at the end. "This isn't... this isn’t how I imagined it. I can’t even look at my mom, I—" Your voice trails off, caught in the overwhelming mess of emotions swirling inside of you. The fear of disappointing her, the panic over the future, the terror of doing something you might not be able to undo.

He shakes his head, his thumbs gently brushing away the tears still trailing down your cheeks. His touch is steady and soothing in its own way. “I know, baby. I know,” he says, his voice low, as if the words themselves are meant to protect you. He presses a soft kiss to your lips. “You’re not alone in this. We’ll figure it out, okay? Together.”

But even as he says it, you can see the doubt in his eyes, the fear that lingers beneath the surface of his reassuring words. You don't know what’s worse—the fact that you two got yourselves in this predicament or the way Satoru looks at you like he’s already bracing for the worst. You want to believe him, you want to believe that this—all of this—can somehow work out, but you're not sure how to convince yourself. Satoru’s hands move from your face to your shoulders, pulling you into him, his arms wrapping around you like he’s trying to hold you together. "I won’t let you face this alone," he mutters against your hair, his voice thick with emotion. "We’ll figure this out. I don’t care how hard it gets...we’ll get through it. You and me."

For a long beat of silence, all you can do is hold onto him, the only thing you know you can rely on right now. The tears continue to fall, but this time, you don’t feel as alone. You don’t feel as scared. But the reality still sits heavy in your chest, and you can't push away the nagging feeling that nothing will be the same after tonight. 

PRESENT TIME:

Satoru wakes with a small groan, the morning sunshine rays doing their duty of rousing him from a very deep sleep. The first thing he feels is an annoying crick in his neck. The second thing he feels is the reason for that crick. You lay on top of him, a cover hiding both of your bodies from the rest of the world. Your hair tickles at his nostrils, causing him to wiggle his nose a bit. Legs tangled with one another, his arms rested securely around you, one hand on the small of your back and the other on top of your ass. The way your sleeping face is positioned has made him sleep most of the night with his head turned to the left. Usually, he would’ve been annoyed. But all he feels now is a deep sense of reverie—happiness. 

He lets out a wistful sigh, shifting carefully so he can get a tiny look at your face. It’s relaxed. Though there’s a small crease in between your eyebrows, and he wonders what you’re dreaming about. He spends a few more minutes just looking. In any other situation, this would’ve probably been creepy. 

Technically, it still is.

But can you blame him for wanting to admire your beauty?

His thumb hovers, reaching out to soothe the skin between your eyebrows before a tiny, stifled giggle catches his attention. He looks to his left. There stands Koji, still clad in his matching pj’s. Holding his two hands to his mouth, but he can still make out the way his lips upturn at the edge, the hint of his dimple peeking out, and how his eyes crinkle with delight. His hair is messy; he must’ve just woken up.

He looks like you when you used to deny having witnessed him do something so utterly embarrassing like missing a step when walking up the stairs. 

God, I’m in heaven.

“And what are you doing, huh?” Satoru asks, keeping his voice low so as to not wake you. His tone is still tinged with a raspy sleepiness, however, he still laces it with a faux annoyance at his son. “Spying on us?”

“Noooo,” Koji replies, dropping his hands to his sides. “I’m watching.”

“Uh-huh.” 

“You and Mama are sleeping together.”

“We are.”

“Why?” 

“Because it was too late to go home yesterday, so Mama let me stay.”

“But Mama usually sleeps in her room.”

He sighs. Damn curiosity. “She does, but things can change too sometimes.”

Koji makes an “oh” sound, nodding. He pads his tiny feet closer, craning his neck to get a look at you. His hand reaches out in an effort to touch your face, but Satoru stops him short. 

“Careful, buddy. Mama’s sleeping. Will you be gentle?”

“I’ll be gentle,” Koji pouts, wiggling his hand in his father’s grasp.

“And quiet?”

Koji pauses for a moment, his tiny white brows knitting as he considers the request. “Like a ninja?” he whispers, his eyes lighting up with the excitement of his new plan.

Satoru lets out a quiet chuckle, his hand loosening just enough to allow Koji to slip his small fingers free. “Exactly like a ninja,” he says with a grin.

The little boy nods vigorously, his excitement evident in the way his body practically vibrates with energy. He tiptoes closer to the couch, his steps exaggeratedly careful as he approaches you. Satoru watches him, both proud and amused, as his son carefully reaches out, his fingertips brushing lightly against your cheek. You stir slightly at the touch, your face softening in the way it always does when Koji’s close. Koji freezes, holding his breath for a second before smiling at the success of his mission.

Satoru watches the scene unfold with warmth in his chest, his mind replaying everything that’s led to this moment—how, after everything, this is what he has now. It’s not perfect, far from it, but it feels right. He looks down at you, his heart full. He could get used to this. "Good job, ninja," Satoru whispers, his voice full of pride.

Koji beams, looking back at his father. "I didn’t wake her up."

"You didn’t," Satoru confirms, his eyes flicking back to you, your peaceful face still nestled in sleep. "Now, let’s keep it that way, okay?"

"Okay, Papa!" Koji whispers enthusiastically.

Koji climbs onto the couch, settling down on Satoru’s free side. His father sighs, playfully rolling his eyes and wrapping an arm around Koji to stabilize him. Koji watches you sleep, and they’re each lost in their own thoughts. Satoru rests his chin on top of Koji’s head, the weight of his emotions settling in quietly. Life is a bit of a mess, but moments like this? That is everything. He’s already dreading the time you wake up, plus the inevitable conversation you two will have about last night, but he’ll greedily enjoy this while it lasts. 

You woke up to the sound of pots clanking together and bacon sizzling on the stove. Normally, you’d question why Satoru was up, let alone cooking for you, but after last night, it felt more like a silent offering—maybe a ‘thank you’ or an attempt at normalcy. Whatever the reason, you had more pressing matters to focus on.

Stepping outside, you lean against the cool railing of your apartment floor, phone pressed to your ear. In your free hand, you toy with the sleek black business card, running your thumb over the gold-embossed lettering. Evelyn Carlisle. The name alone carries weight. Your stomach tightens as the dial tone rings, your finger tapping anxiously against the back of your phone in sync with the robotic sound.

For a moment, you think the call won’t go through—until a woman’s voice answers, curt and businesslike.

“Who am I speaking to?”

You clear your throat, straightening up instinctively. “Uh… Y/N L/N.”

There’s typing on the other end, quick and efficient. You hear the faint sound of gum popping. “And your business for today?”

“I’m trying to reach Ms. Carlisle. She gave me this number about a job opportunity.”

A pause. More typing. You grip the railing a little tighter.

“Uh-huh,” the woman drawls, followed by the unmistakable crack of her gum. There’s another beat of silence, long enough for doubt to creep in. Did you dial the wrong number? You glance at the card again just as the woman speaks up.

“Ms. Carlisle has a meeting in thirty minutes. I’ll be redirecting you, but use your time wisely.”

You barely have time to process her words before the line clicks and the dial tone starts again—only for a familiar voice to answer almost immediately.

“Evelyn speaking.”

Your breath hitches.

“Oh, hi,” you start, trying not to sound as flustered as you feel. “This is Y/N. I’m not sure if you remember me, but you gave me your business card not too long ago…”

Evelyn doesn’t respond right away. For a split second, you think she might not remember you, but then she hums in acknowledgment. “Y/N,” she repeats your name as if testing how it sounds on her tongue. “Yes, of course. I remember you. The woman from the café.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“I wasn’t expecting your call so soon,” Evelyn continues, her voice smooth and professional. “But I’m pleased you reached out. Are you still currently employed?”

“Yes,” you answer quickly. “But… I’m looking for a change, better opportunities.”

“Good,” she says, as if that’s exactly what she wanted to hear. “Well, yes, as I mentioned briefly before, we’re currently hiring for a personal secretary position. Given the nature of our clients, discretion and adaptability are crucial. With experience in service, that tells me you may be able to handle fast-paced environments, but I’d like to know—how comfortable are you with high-profile clientele?”

High-profile. Meaning rich. Possibly powerful. Maybe even dangerous.

You grip the railing tighter, thinking about your answer. “I’m comfortable,” you say, steadying your voice. “I’ve worked with all kinds of people for many years now.”

“That’s what I gathered.” There’s the faint sound of papers shuffling on her end. “I won’t waste time with formalities. If you’re interested, I’d like you to come in for an interview. How does tomorrow sound?”

Tomorrow? So soon?

You swallow. This is happening fast—faster than you expected. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing. You’ll hopefully be moved in completely within the next couple of weeks, and if you can secure this job now, that’s even better. “That works,” you say, keeping your voice even.

“Good. I’ll have my assistant send you the details. Be prepared, Y/N. This is more than just a desk job. I’ll explain everything when we meet.”

And with that, the call ends, leaving you staring at your phone. More than just a desk job? Everything seems so vague, and that doesn’t do very well to reassure you. You’ve never exactly been a secretary before, especially for a company as luxurious as this one. 

Your fingers tighten around the phone as you glance down at the business card again. The elegant gold lettering seems to mock you, reminding you that this isn’t just some ordinary job opportunity. You’ve worked in fast-paced environments before, dealt with demanding customers, and handled your fair share of stress—but this feels different. More exclusive. More… intense.

What exactly does she mean by more than just a desk job?

A part of you wonders if you should be cautious, if maybe this isn’t the right move. But then you think about your dwindling savings, the past bills stacking up, the debt collectors calling nonstop, and Koji’s future. Stability is a luxury you can’t afford to second-guess.

With a deep breath, you tuck the card away and turn back toward your apartment. Whatever this job entails, you’ll find out soon enough. But for now, you have a morning to get through. 

You step back into the apartment, closing the door behind you. Koji is in the living room, playing with his action figurines and little playhouse. Glancing to the left, Satoru is washing your dishes. He must’ve cleaned up in the short time you’ve been outside. The sight is domestic—cute, even. You did always have a thing for men doing household chores. 

With a determined nod, you walk over, standing beside him, ensuring your voice is not too loud for the nosy child to hear. “Thanks for the food. You didn’t have to.”

Satoru glances up at you with a soft smile, a dish towel draped over his shoulder. His movements are fluid, like he’s done this countless times before, even though he’s far from being a regular guest in your home. “No problem,” he says quietly, his voice carrying a light, teasing edge. “Figured I’d help out after crashing your place all night.”

You nod, your arms folding across your chest. “I didn’t ask you to. But…” You hesitate for a moment before continuing, your gaze drifting back to Koji, who’s deeply engrossed in his playtime. “It was… nice.”

He looks over at Koji, too, before focusing back on you, his expression unreadable for a second. Then, that familiar smirk of his appears. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You roll your eyes but can’t suppress the small smile tugging at your lips. “You don’t have to try so hard to be charming, you know. It’s a little much.”

He chuckles, the sound light but genuine. “I’ll tone it down for his sake.” His eyes flicker toward Koji again before meeting yours. “But seriously, if you ever need help, just ask. I can’t exactly be around all the time, but I can make myself useful when I am.”

A small part of you wants to brush it off, to remind him of the boundaries between you, but the other part of you—the part that’s constantly stressed about everything and everyone—feels comforted by the offer. Not to mention, you two have already crossed said boundaries in just the span of a night. You nod once more, slower. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He gives you a quick, half-hearted salute, returning to the dishes with a hum. The atmosphere between you two is light and easy, but there’s something heavier hanging in the air. The space between your words says a lot more than either of you care to admit.

Satoru clears his throat, breaking the silence that was settled too thick. “So… what’s next for you today?” he asks, clearly trying to keep things casual.

You consider the question for a moment, still distracted by the thoughts swirling in your head about the job opportunity and everything that comes with it. “Nothing much. I guess just prepare for a meeting I have tomorrow,” you finally reply, your voice steady but the unease barely hidden. “With someone who could… offer me a job.”

Satoru glances at you over his shoulder. “A job, huh?” His tone is light but curious, and you can’t tell if it’s genuine or just his usual flippant nature.

“Yeah,” you reply, your gaze flicking back to Koji. “It’s nothing permanent, yet. Just something to help out.”

Satoru doesn’t respond immediately. You can feel his eyes on you, but when you look back, he’s already back to the dishes, like he’s trying to give you space without making things awkward. Still, there’s a noticeable tension in his shoulders—something he’s not letting show.

Which reminds you…

“Hey, so…” you start off, fidgeting with your fingers. “I have a little question for you.”

“Mhm?” He hums, turning the sink off and drying his hands, body facing you now as he gives you his full attention. 

You tilt your head, a little unsure of how to bring this topic up. “The company it’s for, it’s called Carlisle & Harlow. Have you heard of it?” Play dumb, play dumb. 

He blinks, then nods. “Yeah, I have. Why?”

“Well, I was looking through their website and saw they’ve been in partnership with the Gojo Group for a good few years now.”

“They have been.”

You bite your lip. His nonchalance is annoying you a little bit, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s feeding you just the right amount of information on purpose. Maybe he knows something you don’t? “Well, she—Evelyn—approached me during my shift a while back and gave me her business card. That’s how I got this opportunity in the first place.”

His hands reside in his pockets, eyebrows raising with a small hum. “Wow, that sounds like a lucky offer.” His tone is light, like he’s trying to make a small joke. You make a noncommittal chuckle, eyeing his reactions. 

But he’s giving you nothing. 

Maybe you really were just being superstitious about this all. 

“It’s just…it seemed a little too good to be true, you know? Almost like someone put in a good word for me.”

You force a small laugh, hoping the remark can ease him into revealing a possible clue. However, you start thinking to yourself: Would it be better to know that Satoru played a part in getting you a job with his business partner? Would that make you feel more inadequate of your own abilities? Would it just lead to another argument about him doing something without considering your feelings first? Or would you rather be left in the dark?

Satoru’s eyes meet yours again, but this time, there’s a flicker of something you can’t quite place. He leans back against the counter, his posture relaxed, though there’s a quiet tension in the way he watches you. For a second, it feels like he’s weighing something in his mind. “You’re a hard worker,” he says, his voice still light but with a hint of something deeper, like he’s carefully choosing his words. “I don’t think you need someone to put in a good word for you. If you’re getting an offer like that, it’s because you’re capable. Simple as that.”

You nod, your eyes lingering on him, not quite convinced by the simplicity of his answer. But he’s always been the type to brush things off with a smile, to make everything seem like it’s no big deal. Still, there’s that nagging feeling at the back of your mind, the thought that he knows more than he’s letting on. Maybe he didn’t have a hand in it. Or maybe he did, and he’s just not ready to tell you because he knows you better than anyone else. 

You’ll take things at a surface level—for now.

“I guess,” you mutter, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “But it still feels… a little too perfect, you know? I mean, why me? Of all people?”

Satoru’s smile softens a little, and there’s a quiet intensity in the way he looks at you now. He steps closer, closing the distance just enough that you can feel the heat of his presence. For just a split second, your heart skips a beat, but you quickly brush it off. “Maybe it’s just your time,” he says softly, his voice low, like he’s trying to soothe you. “Sometimes, things just fall into place when they’re supposed to.”

You nod again, though it doesn’t really make you feel any better. It’s just too easy, too convenient, like someone’s pulling strings behind the scenes. But you can’t quite figure out who. Or why. 

Silence follows, and you practically force yourself to tear your eyes away from him because you can already feel the magnetic pull they have on you.  You clear your throat, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Well,” you say, forcing a lightness into your tone, “guess I’ll find out soon enough.”

Satoru hums, but he doesn’t say anything else. He’s watching you again, that unreadable look back in his eyes, and you hate how easily it makes your stomach twist. You should be used to this by now—the way he always seems to see right through you, the way his presence alone makes you feel like you’re standing too close to a flame. 

And, of course, there’s still the silent, lingering question of when you two will discuss what happened last night. However, even saying that question out loud makes you nervous—guilty even. Like you’re coming to terms with the fact that you did something you know wasn’t the best thing. It complicates things even more, and you distinctly remember him saying something along those lines to you a while back—back when you tried kissing him. 

You’re feeling the embarrassment all over again. But the embarrassment starts turning to fascination when your eyes rove over the way his shirt fits so perfectly around his waist—his biceps. He opted for just putting on one of the old shirts you still had of his from years ago, waving off your protests of how it hasn’t been washed. 

Black does look sexy on him. 

And if you look closer, you can even make out the slight perkiness of his—

“We should head out soon.” Satoru’s voice snaps you back into reality. “Got to drop off the donation stuff in the car and head to my place to grab some of Koji’s things.”

“Right, right,” you respond, a little breathlessly, shaking your head free of lewd thoughts. “I’ll go get ready.” You turn on your heel, eager to put some distance between yourself and the weight of his gaze. It’s frustrating—the way he manages to make you feel so self-conscious without even trying. It's almost like he’s waiting for you to bring it up first, like he knows you won’t.

The moment you step into your bedroom, you let out a slow exhale, pressing your palms against the dresser. Get it together. Last night happened. You can’t stop thinking about it. You can’t change it. But you can control how you handle it moving forward. You two are grown adults who can hash out their shit maturely and respectfully.  You rummage through your drawers, pulling out something casual but presentable. Something that makes you feel like yourself—whoever that is these days. As you slip on your shoes, you hear the faint sound of Koji’s laughter from the other room, followed by Satoru’s easygoing voice, and it tugs at something in your chest.

This fragile balance you’ve built—it’s dangerous, isn’t it? Because every time he fits so seamlessly into your life, it becomes harder to remember why he shouldn’t.

That thought stays with you longer than you’d like. It lingers as you pull your coat on, as you grab your bag, as you catch your reflection in the mirror before heading out. There’s something unsettling about the way things feel almost… natural with him again. Like muscle memory, like something you once knew by heart but tried to forget.

Now, if that isn’t the truth. 

You step back into the living room, and Satoru is crouched beside Koji, helping him tie his tiny sneakers. His voice is light, patient, as he guides him through the motions, and Koji is beaming up at him like he’s the whole world, nodding along to his father’s explanation of the great process of tying your own shoelaces.

It makes your throat tighten.

Satoru looks up just then, like he can feel your eyes on him, and for a second, neither of you speaks. There’s an understanding there, something unspoken but felt. Then, he straightens up, brushing invisible dust from his pants. “You ready?” he asks, voice even.

You step closer. “Yeah.”

Koji cheers, raising his arms as Satoru effortlessly lifts him, settling him against his hip. It’s so natural, so easy, and you hate that your heart aches at the sight. How you start imagining how it would’ve been coming home to Satoru holding an infant version of Koji. 

It is dangerous. 

And yet, you still follow them out the door. 

Your smile doesn’t feel forced as it slowly creeps its way onto your face. You don’t flinch away from the hovering of his hand on the small of your back as he guides you to his parked car. Maybe it’s just the fact that it’s a nice, sunny day out. Or, the more optimistic side of you, believes that it’s a possibility that maybe things don’t have to be as complicated as you make them out to be. That for once, you can just exist in this moment without thinking too hard about what it means.

The drive to Satoru’s place offers you enough time to sit back on your current decisions and more so, trying to decipher whether or not he was just lying to your face. Because no matter how smoothly he played it off earlier, there was something about his reaction that didn’t sit right with you. The way he barely blinked at the mention of Carlisle & Harlow. The way he didn’t seem surprised at all. Almost like he already knew. You glance at him from the passenger seat. He’s focused on the road, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting lazily on the gear shift. Sunglasses perched on his nose, shielding his eyes, making it impossible to read him. Maybe it’s best not to dwell on things and just enjoy the opportunities that have been cast your way. 

Before you know it, he’s parked and carrying Koji out his car seat, plopping him down onto the ground and holding his hand while he leads you two up the way to his penthouse, a route that’s becoming vaguely familiar to you now. 

You’ve already dropped off boxes of donations to your local thrift store in order to make enough space to fit whatever was left at his place into his car. Inside the elevator, Koji chatters excitedly about something—you’re not entirely paying attention—his small hand still wrapped securely in Satoru’s. The sight of them together, so natural and effortless, is something you’re still working toward getting used to. Your mind wanders to six months ago, fascinated just over how much things have changed. For the better, yes. But there are also some things or people you wish hadn’t entered your life.  You keep your eyes trained on the ascending floor numbers, trying not to let your mind spiral. It’s too easy to overthink, to read into every little thing, to get caught up in what-ifs and maybes. But as you steal another glance at Satoru—still effortlessly cool, still impossible to read—you can’t help but wonder if you’re the only one doing that.

When the elevator chimes, doors sliding open, Koji tugs on Satoru’s hand eagerly, practically bouncing on his feet. “Can I see the big TV again?”

Satoru chuckles, ruffling his hair. “Yeah, buddy. I’ll put on whatever you want.”

You exhale softly, following them down the hall and inside his place. It still looks the same, you haven’t been here since you slept over. 

The familiarity of it all unnerves you. The faint scent of his cologne still lingers in the air, mixing with something warm—probably the remnants of whatever coffee he drinks. The living room is neat, save for a few stray items Koji must’ve left behind during his last visit. A toy car sits near the edge of the coffee table, a small sweater draped over the back of the couch. It’s the kind of lived-in mess that makes the space feel less like a showroom and more like… a home.

You hesitate in the doorway for a moment before stepping inside, watching as Koji makes himself comfortable, already climbing onto the couch, eyes lighting up as Satoru turns on the massive flat-screen TV.

“Want anything to drink?” Satoru asks, his voice casual, as if you’ve done this a hundred times before.

You shake your head. “I’m good.

He nods, but his eyes linger on you for a second longer than necessary, like he’s waiting for you to say something more. Maybe you should. Maybe you should bring up what happened the last time you were here. Rip the bandage off before it festers into something worse. But instead, you cross your arms, glancing toward the hallway.

“I’ll, um, start packing up Koji’s things,” you say, shifting the conversation elsewhere.

Satoru doesn’t argue, just hums in agreement before following you toward the spare bedroom, where most of Koji’s stuff is still tucked away. “There’s a couple things in my room too, I’ll come help after I’ve put his show on.”

“Got it.” You shrug off your jacket and turn around, walking down the long hallway and into the room where your son’s toys reside. 

The room is neatly organized but still carrying traces of Koji’s presence. His small clothes are folded in the drawers, and one of his favorite stuffed animals is sitting on the bed like it’s waiting for him to return. You let out a quiet sigh as you step inside, running a hand over the soft fabric of his tiny hoodie.

This shouldn’t feel so strange. You should be used to this by now—the quiet moments, the back and forth between two spaces. But standing here, gathering your son’s things from a place that feels more and more like a second home, there’s a weight in your chest that you can’t quite shake.

You hear Satoru’s footsteps before you see him. He leans against the doorway, arms crossed loosely over his chest, watching you with that unreadable expression of his.

“You alright?” he asks after a beat.

You force a small smile, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

He hums, pushing off the doorframe and stepping further into the room. “Thinking about?”

You hesitate. Because how do you explain this feeling—the unease of being in limbo, of not knowing where you stand with him, of feeling like you’re caught in a current you can’t control? 

Instead, you opt for something easier. “Just how much stuff he has,” you say, motioning to the half-packed bag on the bed. “I swear it multiplies when I’m not looking.”

Satoru chuckles, crouching down to help you pack. “Yeah, well, that’s kids for you.”

You work in silence for a while, folding clothes, stuffing small toys into the bag. It’s easy—too easy, the way you move together in sync, like you’ve done this a thousand times before.

And maybe that’s what scares you the most.

“He doesn’t even stay here that much, and he has so many things. Maybe I should donate some of these toys, he doesn’t use them anymore,” you comment, picking up a figurine from one of his favorite TV shows he hasn’t watched recently. 

Satoru glances at the toy in your hand before shrugging. “You could, but you know how kids are. The second you give it away, he’ll suddenly remember it’s his favorite.”

You huff a small laugh, rolling the figurine between your fingers before setting it aside. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

He zips up one of the bags, sitting back on his heels. “If it makes you feel better, it’s not that bad. Koji having a bunch of stuff here just means he’s comfortable, yeah?”

You pause at that, fingers lingering over the next item you’re about to pack. It’s such a simple statement, but something about it makes your chest tighten. Koji is comfortable here. He has space here. Enough for his clothes, his toys, his laughter to fill the rooms. And maybe, a quiet part of you wonders, that’s why it’s starting to feel like you do, too. You shake the thought away, focusing on finishing up the packing. “I guess that’s true. But I still think I need to cut down on the clutter. When we get to the new place, I really want to emphasize cleaning with him.”

Satoru smirks. “Good luck. Just don’t expect me to help if he throws a tantrum about his missing toys.”

You roll your eyes, nudging his arm playfully. “Some protector you are.”

He grins, the easy warmth of the moment settling between you. But underneath it, there’s still that lingering feeling—that nagging question you’re not ready to ask. And finally, after more minutes of pure silence and bags rustling, you decide to bite the bullet. Your lips pursed with a big sigh escaping you, turning to face him wordlessly. He feels your gaze and simultaneously looks over. 

Just do it, before you pussy out. 

“Look, I—” you scratch your neck. “I really don’t…like all this weird tension between us. And it seemed we came to a good agreement yesterday. But I…I just want to know if—if what happened between us…changed anything.”

Satoru's expression flickers—just for a second. So quick that if you hadn’t been watching him so closely, you might’ve missed it. But you don’t. You see the way his fingers pause in their movements, the slight shift in his posture, like he’s bracing himself. Then, just as quickly, he exhales, a slow, measured sound as he leans back on his hands, tilting his head slightly. “Changed anything, huh?” he repeats, almost like he’s testing the words on his tongue.

You nod, throat tight. “Yeah.”

Another beat of silence. And then, “Did you want it to?”

Your stomach twists. Because he’s throwing the question back at you, forcing you to answer first. Classic Satoru. Never giving anything away unless he absolutely has to. But the way that question has heat pooling in your stomach, like he’s testing the waters, just barely revealing his true thoughts, it makes you wonder if it has changed things for him. 

You shift awkwardly, arms crossing over your chest. “I—I don’t know.” It’s the truth, as frustrating as it is. “I just… I don’t want things to get complicated.”

Satoru lets out a small, humorless chuckle. “Too late for that, don’t you think?”

Your chest tightens, but you hold his gaze. “I just need to know where we stand, Satoru.”

Something in his expression changes then. Softens, just a little. He exhales through his nose, sitting up straighter. “We’re still us,” he says finally, his voice quieter than before. “Whatever that means.”

“I need a better answer than that,” you admit. “We’re supposed to be doing this for Koji, not our own selfish desires. I want to be on an equal playing field with you, but we can’t have that if we’re….ya know.”

Satoru watches you carefully, his gaze sharp beneath the shadow of his lashes. You’re asking for clarity, a definitive line in the sand, and yet… you don’t even know what you want the answer to be. His lips press into a thin line, tongue running over his teeth as he considers his response. “So what, you think we’re being selfish?” His voice is even, but there’s something unreadable lurking beneath it.

You exhale, shaking your head. “I think this—whatever it is—could make things messy. And Koji is the most important thing in all of this.”

Satoru hums, rubbing his palm over his chin in thought. “And what if I said I don’t think it changes anything?”

You frown. “How can you say that?”

“Because it’s the truth,” he says simply. “You and I? We’ve been complicated from the start. One night doesn’t change the fact that we’re still trying to figure things out. It doesn’t change that I want to be in Koji’s life—or yours, for that matter.”

Your breath hitches slightly, and you hate the way your pulse flutters at his words. “Satoru…”

He leans forward then, resting his elbows on his knees. “I don’t know what you want me to say. That it meant nothing? That I regret it? I won’t, because that’d be a lie. But I also know we can’t afford to lose sight of what really matters.”

You swallow thickly, fingers tightening around the fabric of your shirt. It’s not a declaration of love, not some grand confession, but it’s honest. And that almost feels a tad bit worse.

He sighs, raking a hand through his snowy hair. “Look, if you want to draw a line, I’ll respect it. If you want to figure this out, I’ll meet you halfway. But I won’t pretend like nothing happened, and I sure as hell won’t act like I don’t care.”

His words sit heavy between you, the weight of them pressing into your chest. The choice, as much as you hate it, is yours. That should be a good thing, right? He should be letting you take control, steering your “relationship” into wherever the hell you want it. But the pressure of it all feels more drowning by the second. “What about Himari? What happens when she finds out?”

Satoru's jaw tightens just slightly, the only visible crack in his composure. He exhales through his nose, tipping his head back against the wall, as if trying to gather his thoughts before speaking. “What about her?” he finally says, voice low.

You blink, momentarily caught off guard by his casual response, confused. “What do you mean, what about her? She’s your girlfriend, Satoru.”

His fingers tap idly against his knee, a slow rhythm, measured. “She and I… it’s complicated.”

You scoff, crossing your arms. “Sounds like your favorite word.”

Satoru huffs out a quiet laugh, but there’s no real amusement behind it. “Maybe. But it’s the truth.” He turns his head to look at you then, eyes sharp. “You think I don’t know how messy this is? That I don’t realize what this means? But you keep asking me where we stand, and I’m trying to tell you—we’ve never been simple, and I don’t think we ever will be.”

“But what if I just want to be simple for once?”

“Then we can try.”

We. Your throat feels tight. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

Satoru watches you for a moment before sighing, dragging a hand down his face. “When—if—Himari finds out, I’ll handle it.”

There’s a finality in his tone that makes your stomach churn. Your eyebrows furrow, pushing for more. “Handle it how?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, his gaze flickering away for a second before landing back on you. “You don’t need to worry about her.”

That should bring you some relief, but instead, it just unsettles you further. Because deep down, you know Himari will find out eventually. And when she does, the consequences won’t be something either of you can just walk away from. You run your hands through your hair, shaking your head as you stand to your feet. “I’ll go get the rest of the stuff from your room.”

Satoru doesn’t stop you as you step around him, making your way down the hall toward his bedroom. But you can feel his eyes on you, watching your retreating figure, like he wants to say something but chooses not to. The air in his room is cool, the faint scent of his cologne still lingering in the space. Koji’s things are tucked neatly in the corner: some folded clothes, a few toys, his favorite blanket. You bend down, gathering them into your arms, but your mind is still racing.

What happens when Himari finds out?

Satoru’s words replay in your head. You don’t need to worry about her.

But you do worry. How can you not? Satoru might not think much of it now, but Himari isn’t just going to sit back and accept this. She’s from his world—a world that doesn’t take kindly to secrets or betrayal. And whether you like it or not, you’ve just stepped right back into it.

You hear the sound of glass crunching under your shoe, which momentarily halts your running mind. Peering down slowly, you remove your shoe from the shards. The sight you’re met with makes your mouth dry instantly, stomach dropping. A picture stares up at you. But not just any picture. The one of you and your son on one Christmas back then, the same picture you specifically remember framing before wrapping it into a small gift for him. 

Then why is it on the floor?

Why is the glass of the frame broken?

Why is the picture itself dirtied, the mark of a footprint staining right on top of your face, the side with your son crumpled?

You look up, a disbelieving scoff sounding from you. You’re then met with the sight of his king-sized bed. But the sheets are all rumpled, the pillows thrown about. And if you focus hard enough, there are a few noticeable stains that could really only mean one thing. 

You look between the bed, the picture on the ground, the bed, the picture, the bed, the picture, and before you know it, you’re calling him in. “Satoru.”

No response. 

“Satoru!” 

Heavy footsteps echo down the hall before he appears at the doorframe, his expression unreadable. “What?” he says, though there’s something in his voice—something hesitant, wary.

You bend down, picking up the shattered frame, holding it up for him to see. “Care to explain this?” Your voice is tight, barely holding back the storm brewing inside you.

His eyes widen, brows furrowing as he steps forward, blue eyes flickering between the picture in your hands and the mess of his bed. Then, something shifts in his face—realization, maybe, or something darker. “Shit,” he mutters under his breath, running a hand through his hair.

“T-That’s all you have to say?” You let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking your head. “This was a gift. A gift, Satoru.” Your fingers tighten around the cracked edges of the frame. “And it’s stomped on. Crumpled. What the fuck happened?”

He exhales sharply, shoulders tensing. “I don’t know. I didn’t—” He stops himself, jaw clenching. “I didn’t do that.”

“You didn’t do it?” you repeat back, incredulousness in your voice. “That’s the excuse you’re coming up with?” 

He stays quiet, a look of confusion and anger present on his face. But for some reason, it’s only making you even more pissed. You scoff and push past him, but he grabs your arm. “Y/N, I’m serious. I didn’t do this.”

“Then who did?” You attempt to yank your arm back, glaring up at him with eyes of fury. “I–I gave you this as a gift. I did this for you, I—and you just treat it like it’s nothing? How could you?”

Satoru’s grip tightens on your arm as you try to pull away, his eyes not meeting yours as he steps closer. His expression shifts again, like he's processing something, but it’s not a calm reaction—it’s frustration, maybe guilt, and it's doing nothing to calm the storm inside you. “Y/N,” he says, his voice lower now, like he's trying to de-escalate the situation. "I didn’t stomp on it. I didn’t break the frame. You think I would do that?” He doesn’t let go of you, but the way his thumb rubs over your wrist is almost soothing—almost, but it doesn't make the anger fade.

“You didn’t do it. Then who the hell did?” you snap, tugging your arm again, but his grip holds firm.

He exhales sharply, his chest rising and falling with the effort to keep himself calm. He opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, then closes it again, his hand falling from your wrist as if he’s choosing his words carefully, but you’re not in the mood for careful right now. The room is thick with tension, and you can barely stand to be near him, especially when his presence is only making everything feel more complicated.

“Maybe you didn’t do it,” you say, your voice shaking with suppressed rage, "but something about this—this situation—it doesn’t…."

He looks at you for a long moment, then seems to give in, running a hand over his face as if tired. “I don’t know what’s going on, Y/N. I swear, I didn’t touch the damn picture. Please just listen to what I’m telling you, I didn’t—.”

“Then who did?!” You swiftly cut him off.

He exhales deeply, trying to tone down the situation. “...I don’t know for sure. But I think I do.”

You bite your lip, your fingers still wrapped tightly around the broken frame, your heart pounding. “You think, you think?” You shake your head, momentarily looking up. “You’re the one who keeps making things more complicated,” you reply softly, glaring at the crumpled picture again, the smile you once wore in it now tainted with every bit of the hurt you feel.

Satoru’s face softens, but the regret doesn’t make you feel any better. If anything, it only makes everything more confusing. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he mutters, though it doesn’t exactly reach your heart.

You set the frame down carefully on the dresser, not trusting yourself to hold it any longer. “Then why does it feel like you’re always doing it, even when you’re not trying to?”

Satoru stays quiet for a long moment, looking between the bed and the shattered picture, the distance between you growing as the weight of everything hung heavy in the air. His lips twitch, as if he’s about to say something else—but you don’t need more words right now. You need actions.

“Just fix it,” you finally whisper, your voice raw. "I can't do this anymore, Satoru."

You turn to exit the room, feeling hot tears sting behind your eyes. You barely make it two steps before he’s once again hauling you back to him, cupping your cheeks in his hands, and delivering a sweet, but firm kiss to your lips. He swallows your surprised squeak. However, it’s short-lived, and you didn’t even have the chance to reciprocate. He pulls back, looking down at your widened eyes with his own set of determination. Leaning down to rest his forehead against yours and you almost hate the way you tilt your head up, a sad attempt to chase after his lips.

“I'll fix things. For us.”

The lights above cast a soft glow, but nothing about the setting seems to calm the sharp edges of her demeanor. Himari is flanked by assistants, one adjusting the hem of a sleek, modern black dress while another fusses with her hair, tugging at the strands to give them more volume. But Himari’s patience is thin, and her mouth, a thin line of frustration, shows no sign of softening. She pulls at the fabric around her waist, glaring at the assistant. "This doesn’t look right. It’s too tight here,” she snaps, voice laced with annoyance.

The assistant hesitates, clearly uncomfortable with her tone, but follows her orders. "We can adjust it, Ms. Nakamura, just a few more minutes."

“No," she cuts in sharply. "I told you last time. I don't like anything that pinches or restricts me.” She lifts her hand, a clear signal that she’s done with the discussion. “Start over. I’m not going out like this.”

The assistant stammers out an apology and steps back, fidgeting with her fingers as she goes to fetch another dress from the rack. Himari’s eyes shift to the mirror before her, taking in the sharp lines of her reflection—perfect, poised, and controlled. It’s the version of herself she’s always put forward, a product of her family’s brand, her father's influence, and the high standards that come with it.

Her gaze flickers briefly to the phone on the nearby counter, buzzing with an incoming message. Her eyes narrow slightly as she sees the name. Gojo. A smirk plays at the edge of her lips, but it's cold and calculating. She’s been holding her ground, making sure that he knows she’s still here, still the one in control. Yet, a small, insidious part of her can't help but feel a twinge of unease, something she won’t admit even to herself.

“I should be the one to get everything right, not them,” she mutters under her breath, frustrated, as she adjusts herself in front of the mirror. The moment passes, but the irritation lingers in her sharp expression.

She has half a mind to just throw a fit in the middle of the studio, no matter what other pompous bitch is here for the same reason she is. Everyone here should know by now that when Himari visits, there’s no time for screw-ups. She whips out her red lipstick, reapplying some in the mirror just as the assistant and stylist come back. Himari’s eyes flicker over the mirror as she reapplies her lipstick with deliberate, steady strokes, her fingers so controlled it’s almost an art form. She’s not looking at herself, not truly. She’s too busy calculating—how she can assert her dominance here, how she can make everyone bend to her will.

The assistant and stylist stand quietly in the corner, their movements hesitant, trying not to disturb the storm brewing in Himari’s gaze. The silence between them stretches, thick with tension, before Himari finally breaks it.

"You should have known better," she snaps, voice sharp as a blade. "I’m not here to babysit, I’m here to be seen, and seen perfectly. Do you get that?" Her tone makes it clear there’s no room for mistakes. The weight of her presence, her reputation, presses down on the studio like a vice.

The assistant tries to salvage the situation, taking a few cautious steps forward. "I’m terribly sorry, Ms. Nakamura, we just—"

"No excuses," Himari interrupts, eyes flicking to the stylist, who’s now stepping forward with a different outfit. "This had better be right. If you can't get it together, I’ll find someone who knows how to make me look good."

The stylist immediately holds up the new dress, his fingers trembling slightly. "This one is different, I made sure the adjustments were perfect this time."

Himari doesn’t even look at him, just taps her finger on the counter impatiently. "Put it on me, then. I don’t have all day to waste here."

The assistant exchanges a quick glance with the stylist before moving to remove the current dress from Himari. The whole room feels like it’s walking on eggshells now, every movement a little too slow, too careful, as if they’re afraid to provoke her. Himari watches it all unfold, satisfaction curling in the corner of her lips. She relishes in this—being the center of attention, holding the power. But under all the poise and control, there’s that small, gnawing voice. The one that wonders if her grasp on Gojo’s attention is starting to slip, even if only slightly. She pushes it down quickly, focusing on the next move. The game isn’t over. Not yet. 

“Shit!” she gasps, pushing away the stylist. “You just pricked me, you idiot!”

The stylist stumbles back, his face paling as he fumbles with the needle in his hand. "I-I’m so sorry, Ms. Nakamura," he stammers, eyes wide with fear. "It was an accident, I—"

“An accident?” Himari hisses, her voice sharp with venom. She reaches up to press a finger to the small puncture mark on her arm, staring at him like he’s the source of all her frustration. "You people can’t even do the simplest things right." Her voice oozes contempt as she glares at the poor man, who is frozen in place.

The assistant, clearly distressed, starts to panic. "Please, just let me get you something to stop the bleeding—"

“I don’t need your help!” Himari snaps, her eyes narrowing. She turns away from them both, walking toward the mirror. "Just fix the damn dress, and keep your hands away from me. If you mess up again, I’ll have your job. Do you understand me?"

The stylist, his hands shaking now, nods vigorously. "Yes, of course. I’ll be more careful."

She sneers at his response before looking at herself in the mirror, rubbing her arm as if the sting of the prick is the least of her concerns. But deep down, there’s a simmering unease, a feeling of being off that she can’t quite shake. Everything has to be perfect, especially today. She’s had enough of feeling like things are slipping through her fingers.

She fixes her gaze back on the assistant and stylist. "I’m not leaving here until I look flawless. Fix it. Now."

The assistant and stylist exchange nervous glances before scrambling to comply, working as quickly as possible to avoid the wrath of the woman who could ruin their careers with a single word. Himari watches them with a predatory calmness. 

“Such a shame my father pays you,” she scoffs, eyebrow raising as the stylist kneels by her side to focus on the hem. 

The stylist’s hands tremble as he adjusts the fabric of her dress, trying to avoid eye contact. "I'm just doing my job, Ms. Nakamura," he murmurs, not daring to look up from his task.

Himari rolls her eyes dramatically, letting out a sharp sigh. "Your job is to make sure I look perfect, not to give me excuses." She takes a step back, examining herself in the mirror again, as if she can already sense the imperfection of the dress lingering in the air. "But I suppose that’s what happens when you hire amateurs desperate for dimes and nickels."

The assistant, sensing her frustration, hurries over, offering a forced smile. "We’re doing our best, Himari. The fit will be flawless in no time."

Himari doesn’t even glance at them. She crosses her arms, her lips pressed into a tight, thin line. "Best? Best doesn’t even come close. Don’t make me regret bringing my business here."

The assistant’s face flushes, but he keeps his voice steady. "Of course, Ms. Nakamura. We’ll make sure it’s exactly what you want."

Her gaze shifts from her reflection back to the stylist, who looks like he might crumble under the pressure. "You should be thankful my father is paying for this. He could have gone elsewhere, but he chose you. Don’t waste his generosity." Her voice drips with sarcasm as she smirks, watching the man scramble to finish his work. The tension in the room thickens, and for a moment, it feels like the entire studio is holding its breath, waiting for her next move.

“Mr. Gojo! It’s nice to see you again.”

The name snaps her out of her stupor in the blink of an eye, and she whirls around. Oh, he looks so sexy today. Satoru doesn’t even bother greeting the worker who called out, his steely gaze focused solely on her. Usually, she would’ve been flattered, joyous even that she’s being spared the accurate amount of attention she so desperately needs. But today feels different.

He feels different, looks different. 

“Satoru,” Himari puts on a charming smile, nonchalantly pushing the stylist to the side, holding her arms out. “You’re here, you didn’t tell me you were comi—”

“What the fuck did you do?” his cold voice startles her, his hands pushing her inviting embrace away with not much of a care. 

Himari blinks, tucking a strand of brown hair behind her ear. She gulps and shakes her head. “I…what are you talking about, Satoru?”

“Don’t play dumb right now, because I have zero patience for you,” he cooly grits back out.

The studio quiets, the stylist and tailor awkwardly going silent at the public display of an argument between their client and her boyfriend. The two look away, though that’s not saying much. Himari’s lip trembles, biting down on it. “Satoru, I really don’t know—”

“You come into my place, you trash my bed, and then you leave the evidence all over the floor.” Satoru steps closer, invading her personal space. She’s forced to take a small step back, wide eyes staring back up at the man who’s looking at her like she’s worth nothing more than gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe. That thought angers her more than she’d like to admit. “I let you get away with a lot of things, Himari. A lot. More than I should. So why shouldn’t I have you arrested for breaking and entering?”

Himari gasps, eyebrows shooting up. “W-what?! You’d never.”

“Keep trying me, and I will.”

Her face pales, her throat tightening as a mix of guilt and frustration rises within her. “You can’t—no, you’re being ridiculous. That frame… it’s just a thing! A stupid, insignificant thing of you and that—that leech!” She forces a laugh, though it sounds hollow and brittle. “You’re making a mountain out of a molehill. It’s not like I—”

“Not like you what?” Gojo steps forward again, closing the space between them. His towering figure looms over her, eyes locked with hers, piercing through her, tilting his head. “Not like you’re jealous? Because from where I stand…” he leans his neck down, voice lowering, “it looks like you’re trying to erase the one thing you’ll never be."

Himari’s breath catches in her throat, her eyes flashing with anger, but her lips remain tight. The words he’s throwing at her feel like daggers, each one sharper than the last. She doesn’t want to admit it—doesn’t even want to acknowledge it—but the sting of his words is undeniable.

She forces herself to stand tall, pushing down the fluttering in her chest. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she spits, a slight tremor in her voice betraying her. “You think I’m jealous of her?” The words come out in a cruel laugh, but it’s weak. A façade. “Please. She’s nothing. You should’ve let her rot in impoverished obscurity. I never wanted anything to do with her.”

Satoru’s eyes narrow, his posture unwavering. “But you still do, don’t you? You can’t stand that she’s still a part of my life. That she’s always going to be a part of it.”

The silence that follows is thick with tension, suffocating in its intensity. Himari’s chest rises and falls with quickened breaths, her fingers flexing at her sides. The reality of the situation is dawning on her—this isn’t about a broken picture frame. It never was. This is about something deeper, something she refuses to confront. The jealousy she’s spent so long hiding. The truth she’s tried so hard to bury. She forces a smile, trying to mask her vulnerability with arrogance. “You think I’m scared of her, Satoru? You think she matters to me? She’s just some pathetic little woman you got caught up with. A mistake you’re too proud to admit. But I will be the one who gets everything you’ve worked for. I’ll be the one standing beside you. I’m the one you chose, remember?”

Her words feel empty, hollow. She doesn’t believe them anymore. And Satoru knows it.

He steps back, his expression unchanged, cold and calculating. “If you’re so sure of that, Himari, then why don’t you start acting like it? Because right now, you look like a jealous little girl throwing a tantrum. And I’m done with it.”

Her breath catches again, and for a moment, she feels small. Smaller than she ever wanted to feel. Her fingers twitch with the need to lash out, but the weight of his words keeps her still. He’s right. Her limbs shake. 

“You’ll never be her,” Satoru adds, his voice low, almost pitying. “And that’s something you’ll have to live with.”

Himari’s eyes flash with something unreadable, and for a second, the mask she’s worn for so long falters. But she quickly regains control, lifting her chin with a defiant snarl. “I’ll make you regret this, Gojo. I’ll make you regret ever even meeting me with the shit I’ll send your way if you do this to me.”

Satoru doesn’t flinch, doesn’t react. He simply turns on his heel, walking toward the door. “You already are,” he says over his shoulder, the words hanging in the air between them like a final nail in the coffin.

Her breath hitches, fingers curling into her palms. “C-Come back here….you’re—you’re not doing this! You’re not breaking up with me, Satoru! You’re not! I won’t allow it!”

But he says nothing, continuing to walk, and then, he’s gone.

Himari stands there, rooted to the spot, the silence around her deafening. The anger, the humiliation, the fear—they all swirl inside her, a storm she can’t control. But beneath it all, there’s something else. Something she won’t dare admit.

She’s lost him.

A gut-wrenching scream sounds out through the floor, with employees flinching. The stylist and assistant cover their ears, grimacing and not even daring to look her way. 

But the reaction of a white haired woman, holding back a laugh, differs from all. Looking at herself in the floor-length mirror, the elegant, silk purple dress was not nearly as satisfying as the dramatic scene she had just witnessed. She’s glad she decided to indulge this very fine afternoon. 

Things are getting good, she thinks to herself, pressing the button on her phone to stop the voice recording. 

Very good.

a/n: i’ll be releasing the first chapter of the levi fic after this. everyone who has commented to be on the taglist, u have been noted lol (i swear im not ignoring). anyway, hope u guys enjoyedddd :)

taglist is now closed

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[shroomyv]

ᢉ𐭩-GOOD BOY(‘S) [2]

Pairing: mark grayson x sinister mark x Mohawk mark x viltrumite mark x F!reader

Synopsis: continuation from the first story. It gets absolutely feral in that room with the other variants. IT GOES DOWN.

Warning: 4/5 sum, oral sex (male and female receiving), anal (f!receiving), harsh words, struggling, cum (lots of it…🌝😔), possibly corny dialogue

W.c: 2,899 (we went even bigger)

A/N: …so, I’m here with the 2nd part. I most definitely stayed up till 3am writing my little freakish thoughts out. I’m genuinely hoping I didn’t fuck up this story for everyone but it’s def a lil icky icky in some spots and places. Rmb this is a smut story it was always intended to be a smutty story. (This may not be the end of the series…WHO KNOWS WHO KNOWS) thanks for all the love on the first part and I hope I didn’t permanently fuck up the story for u guys being a little freak of the night. (But srsly I hope I didn’t fuck up the story for u guys ☹️😭)

Tag list: @weaponxgames @martinys-world

“No.” You replied with a stern voice continuing your way down the long hall with Your Mark by your side. You had confidence in your walk, you were on a mission and you would make it happen.

“How about now?”

“No.”

“Now?”

“No!”

You two went back and forth like this until you reached the end of the hall. Your card swiped, opening the cell door. The marks lifted their heads to look at you as they looked like they wanted something from you…like they needed something from you. You had a smile of pure confidence on your face.

“Mark…My Mark, can you stand over there at that wall.” You pointed towards the wall with every mark lined up on it as he joined the lineup—the major difference was that he wasn’t locked up in metal to make sure he didn’t get away.

You observed all 4 of them, your mind running wild with every possibility whether it was gonna be good or bad. You had to think it out as carefully as you could. Your arms crossed as your back turned to all of them. You needed absolute and genuine focus. You had plans for every one of them. Your brain finally clicked. You had your idea.

Your eyes stared at the camera in the room for a few seconds before you used your mind to the best of your ability to have it freeze on the last frame it got. You then walked up to your mark as he was a bit confused by your behavior struggling to keep following it. You looked him up and down and up one last time before kissing him. His arms flew up for a second in shock before wrapping around you. You two stumbled around the cell kissing each other hard. Your tongue snaked into his mouth as he fought back grabbing yours right back—it felt hot…your mouths fighting for control of each other. Eventually, you separated for air—a line of spit connected from both of your lips. Mark looked bashful as you looked hungry and starved for more.

The other marks stared in shock each having their own things to say

“You’re just gonna fucking do that in front of us. Are you trying to get to us or something” sinister Mark shouted in a bit of a jealous tone. He didn’t want to show it but he clearly was.

“If she’s trying to get to us…it’s honestly working…I don’t know…” Viltrumite Mark said back in a low tone trying to look everywhere but at the sight in front of him.

“If you two are just gonna fuck get out of here…fucking tease…” Mohawk's mark snarled out as he stared at you and your mark in a bit of a jealous way. He blew a little raspberry at you which made you laugh a bit.

You kicked off your heels—dropping in height a bit as your mark was most certainly confused now.

“What are you-“

You cut him off quickly with the raise of your hand as you walked to the other marks cells. The first mark you released was viltrumite mark. He flicked his wrist enjoying the feeling of his body being free again. He was confused as to why you had even let him go—he couldn’t get a read on you or your behavior at all. He stared at you and you stared right back in silence. The air was thick…it was like you two were having a contest—who could eye fuck the hardest. Eventually, you called your mark over not wanting him to get angry or left out at all. You kissed viltrumite mark harshly sucking on his lip. His eyes shot up in a bit of shock but he leaned in pressing himself against you.

Your hands sprung up—one hand was rubbing Viltrumite Mark's face, letting him know he was doing good. The other hand moves to your mark, letting him know to trust you and lean in. He leaned in kissing at your neck softly as you wanted to melt to his touch but knew you had to try and stand tall as much as you could. You were sloppily kissing Viltrumite's mark before swapping over to your mark's mouth. Whenever you switched to another mouth, the one you were just kissing looked absolutely needy and desperate for more.

Your mark kissed you softly while you matched his energy a bit more roughly to let him know he could go as crazy as he wanted and needed to. Viltrumite Mark kissed you roughly—he couldn’t get enough, he needed more of you. You kissed him softly forcing him to savor it and fold at your whim or else he wouldn’t get more. Eventually, you squished both mark's faces in your hand having them stop for a second.

You saw how Mohawk Mark and sinister Mark were starting to get pissed now that they still weren’t in on the fun nor let go off. You stood at both their cells staring them down. You went up to Sinister Mark first whispering in his ear sensually.

“If I let you out…are you gonna be good?” You softly nibbled on his ear causing his head to jerk a bit from pleasure as you waited for a response.

“Yes…” he replied a bit desperately as he wanted to join in already. He felt like he was being fucking tortured just watching the fun.

“Yes, what?” You said with a tease sucking on his neck softly as you waited for another reply. He choked up a bit not expecting it in the slightest. It felt so fucking good…he felt like sinking into your hold

“Yes ma'am! F..ngh...FUCK!” Sinister Mark shouted out quickly just wanting to be let free already. You swiped your keycard letting him free. You gave him a minute to stretch before you walked over to the last one…Mohawk mark.

“How about you? You gonna play nice?” You asked him with a smirk waiting for a response

“I’ll try, that’s the best I can give you…” he said feeling content with his answer until you walked up to him. You lifted his chin softly before licking his Adam’s apple. He was being teased and he loved it…he could only take so much though.

“Yes ma'am! Let me free fuck!” Mohawk Mark shouted as he began getting more squirmy.

“Good answer!” You replied before swiping your card. Freeing him as he dropped out of his hold.

You stood in the middle of the room as the four marks surrounded you. You gave an evil smile before rubbing each of their faces. You were gonna have the time of your fucking life with 3 versions of your boyfriend…and him of course~

It was like a fucking war in the middle of that room. They were all fighting to get to your lips. Your mark had latched onto your lips first kissing you sloppily as he wanted the most of you. He was yours, obviously, he deserved the most. Mohawk Mark hadn’t even gotten a turn and wanted one. He stayed at your left fighting for your lips whenever you were free from your mark's clutches. Viltrumite mark desperately kissed your neck and collar bones. He needed more of you but had to wait his turn. Finally, sinister mark stayed at the back of your neck sucking hard to place marks, hickeys, and bruises wherever he fucking could.

You got to breathe for 5 seconds at most because whenever you went out for air another pair of lips were snaking at you. They needed you…they yearned for your touch and hold. You felt yourself growing wet and you had to keep it going. The pile of marks and you—now on the floor as they still snake for kisses while you struggle to unbutton your shirt. Sinister Mark saw this as he grabbed onto your collar roughly.

“You won’t be needing that anymore.” He said before tearing the shirt from the back

The other marks saw this quickly joining in as they all ripped off bits and pieces of your clothes before tearing off bits and pieces of their own. You were all like snakes, raggedly ruining everything just to get to each other. Your panties were drenched as they all leaned over you watching you catch your breath. You hadn’t even started and you were already in pure bliss

Your mark spoke to you softly “You ok baby?”

“We haven’t even started yet and she’s already dying…may just be pathetic.” Mohawk Mark said with his arms crossed as if his fun was ruined

You weren’t gonna let him talk about you any kind of way and get away with it. You held yourself up with your elbows before grabbing at his hair. He yelped in pain a bit before his face was roughly shoved against your cunt.

“Well? Get to fucking sucking.” You tried to look as mean as you could, you needed him—no, them to know that you meant absolute business.

“Y..yes.” He choked out as he looked surprised at you standing your ground even though it was 4 against 1.

He began sucking at your pussy quickly as you felt your thighs getting ready to shut on his face. Before they could crush him to death, Viltrumite Mark grabbed at a thigh holding it still as best as he could.

“I’ll take this for you.” He said in a snarky tone before he began sucking on your thigh harshly. He wanted to leave marks everywhere.

“Oh…oh fuck.” You moaned out softly. It felt amazing. However, that was only two of them—there were two more who needed their hunger satisfied. Your mark rushed over to your lips in a heartbeat beat trying to keep them all to himself as best as he could. Sinister Mark went to your breast dragging his tongue across the hard nipple trying to get you to cum as fast as he could so he could get a turn at you.

All of them on you, each focusing on different parts and areas felt absolutely fucking intoxicating. Your mark was basically devouring your moans—sucking and kissing at your lips with every chance he got. Mohawk Mark kept sucking at your pussy, were you tensing the hell up due to all the pressure.

They were eating you alive—you basically threw yourself in shark-infested waters. Your eyes shoot to each of them not knowing which one to focus on.

“Oh god…! Ngh- you…you guys…mhgn…fuck-“ you breathed raggedly as your mark just kept plunging his tongue into your mouth. You were practically choking on your moans

“You close? I call dibs next!” Viltrumite Mark said hastily as he sucked on your thigh. He couldn’t get enough of it, it was soft, and he wanted to latch onto it forever.

“There is no dib…she’s a person…” your mark said with a snarl reminding them that you were a person, not an object. Them arguing over you was honestly turning you on more and more having multiple versions of your boyfriend that each acted differently go crazy over you was absolutely intoxicating.

It was all too much for you as your legs finally gave a little shake before you came. Your mark and Mohawk mark were the first to notice. Mohawk Mark lifted up with a cum covered face as he leaned back catching his breath waiting for whatever command you were gonna throw out next. You shook your leg getting viltrumite mark off of you as he gave you a sour look. You had to practically shove sinister mark to get him to unlatch from your breast and your mark moved as soon as you told him to.

“Listen…” you said panting for breath as you were thinking of the next activity to do with them. You sat yourself up as you grabbed Saint Mark's arm having him lie on the floor.

“Finally…my fucking turn.” Sinister Mark said readily. He wanted whatever you threw at him. You had your mark and Mohawk mark get on the side of you and viltrumite mark sat in front of you. You touched their faces once more before getting ready to act.

You mounted yourself on Sinister marks cock. Your breath hitched but you kept going, you felt like you were gonna collapse but you had to pull through. Besides he was already huffing just from you sliding on his cock.

You began to pick up your pace—your moans and huffs picked up as you struggled to keep balance. Luckily, your mark being a fucking saint, helped you balance yourself. You had two free hands….so you got to work. You slowly stroked Mohawk's mark and your mark off while Viltrumite's mark had to do it for himself.

God it was an absolute struggle—tears of pure pleasure leaving your eyes as you struggled to please all of them at once

“Fuck…I’m so…” sinister Mark huffed and whimpered out breathily as he was struggling to not explode inside of you already

Your mark and Mohawk mark were struggling to keep you and themselves up as their hips were bucking due to being stroked off. Luckily for you, sinister Mark had finished off…he came inside of you quickly—laying back to catch his breath.

You struggled to keep wake—you stroked off Mohawk mark and your mark as fast as you could to get it over with. 1 mark cummed inside of you…the other 3? They cummed on you. Your face, tits, and side are coated in semen. You were pleased with your work but knew they were still hungry. You were so exhausted though.

You slide sinister Mark's cock out of you as you laid back on the floor huffing for breath before they stood over you again.

“She’s struggling,” Mohawk Mark said as he was catching his breath

“Shit…she’s basically been doing all the fucking work, 1 of her against 4 of us mother fuckers.” Sinister Mark said as he gave the rest of the marks a glance.

“Let’s do this one for her…” your mark suggested as they all stopped in silence for a second

They shared glances and looks before looking back at you for some sort of approval. You felt like you were gonna pass out but you knew you had one more in you…

You nodded as they put whatever they had in mind into motion.

“Let’s stuff her like one of those donut things.” Mohawk Mark said with no remorse as they lifted you. Your mark was first up—they lifted you before slowly sliding you on your mark's cock. You felt like you were gonna crash.

“Can’t…can’t keep up-“ you whimpered out as you shed a little tear from the overstimulation.

“You got this…trust us.” Your mark said softly reassuring you as they continued. Mohawk Mark used his fingers to softly pick up some of the cum on your tit as he rubbed it on your anal hole. He slowly entered you feeling your hole wrap around him quickly. Your breath was hitched now as you had two people in you at once.

Viltrumite Mark kissed your lips softly for once before he moved his dick to your face. You knew what was next as you opened your mouth a bit allowing him to enter. He knew you were already struggling—he wouldn’t go that deep and kill you. They needed you alive.

Lastly, sinister mark had you raise your hand. He wanted a handy. You stroked as best as you could while being used up.

“MPHM- ngh!-“The only thing that could leave your mouth was muffled moans because the only thing that was entering it was cock. All your senses were being attacked. Each hole was being filled to the brim. Tears left your eyes as you were struggling to even stay awake from the overstimulation at this point

They went as fast as they could to please not only themselves—but you. Everyone struggling and hitching for air as you finally tighten around your mark giving him a stare of satisfaction. You cummed harder than you ever had before as the other marks quickly followed suit

Viltrumite mark cumming in your mouth as he watched you swallow every last bit like it was good. It was salty but god you just couldn’t stop yourself from swallowing it.

Sinister mark came over your hand and arm before rubbing your head being satisfied with your work

Your mark filled up your vagina as best as he could before sliding himself out of you like you were some donut, and Mohawk Mark did the same thing with your anal hole. You were absolutely sore—it hurted everywhere. But with that pain, so much fucking pleasure came to. You were absolutely satisfied covered in marks or bruises. (no pun intended)

All of you obviously reeking and covered in sweat—laying in a pile as you were struggling to keep yourself awake and catch your breath.

“You…all of you…you’re coming home with me,” you said with as much sternness as you could before passing out asleep in a pile of marks. You were fucked to sleep and now in complete bliss.

(A/n: there will definitely be another part sometime soon 🚪🚶‍♀️😗)

[ippilulu]

Kanna and Yume oh my god

In honour of this severe call-out post, here's a snippet from a fic I'd written around this (from Kanna's POV):

"I heard about your show for Father. I personally thought it was wonderful, Kanna. A pity that they don't feel the-" "Yume one-san, they're our parents. They have our best interests in mind." Do you even believe that anymore, though? His sister sighed and Kanna's skin prickled. He could see the echo of his father in her, sometimes. It didn't help improve his perception of her. "Okay, Kanna. I apologise. But speaking about the performance, I caught most of it! I especially loved the twirl you had towards the end, the one before the jump..." Yume continued to speak, her eyes glittering as she recollected the morning's events.

So she watched everything, huh?

Why didn't she step in when it mattered, then? Why wait until after, when it was safe?

Kanna knew why. After all, he'd just said it to her a few moments ago. But some part of his heart lurched in a burning feeling he hesitated to give a name to. All he could do, however, was smile and pick at his food, waiting for her to leave.

And another, cause I love angst:

Kanna could imagine Manya there, alone in the magnitude of her grief. She’d have been informed of Kanna’s defection, have had to hear him labelled as a traitor. The last one who knew the woman she loved the way she deserved, and he couldn’t even be there. Surrounded by people like their- his, now- parents, who were surely scrambling to save their own image, to portray themselves as the bereft parents left behind in a tragedy… And who knows- maybe they actually felt the grief they were showing. After all, it was Yume, they had to have loved her. How must his mother be dealing with it now? Did they know that he was the one… who killed their beloved daughter? The son they’d always chastised, who could never measure up to the heights his sister had crossed. And now, he’d let them down in the worst way possible. Surely, they’d hate him forever now- no more birthday gifts and guilt-trippy letters, huh? The timing of it was so horrible that he’d have laughed if he could find his voice.

"After all, it was Yume, they had to have loved her."

Does bro know what he does to my psyche? Every time he enters he does 1000+ emotional dmg and leaves me on the curb.

But I love him anyway he's my bb 🫂

Doomed siblings enjoyers when the one that dedicated their whole life to trying to live up to their parents is still worse at it than their sibling who spent their whole life rejecting them

[alohajix]

𝑹𝒐𝒐𝒎 1014

Description: freshly single and craving something reckless, Cassie meets a soft-spoken stranger in a hotel lobby. One look turns into one night—filthy words, slow touches, and a room she might never want to leave.

Warnings: explicit sexual content, smut, oral sex (f. receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, light chocking, soft dom harry, alcohol consumption. Readers +18.

Words count: 12K.

*****

The lobby was quiet, humming with the low buzz of a piano track playing somewhere overhead. Glass walls caught the last flickers of city light, and the air was thick with cologne, polished floors, and money. It was the kind of place where everyone either had somewhere to be—or was waiting for something to happen.

I was the latter. Sat on the edge of a velvet armchair in a dress I probably wouldn’t have worn two weeks ago, I sipped what was left of my watered-down drink and crossed my legs tighter. My breakup was still fresh—three years gone in one loud, final fight—but I wasn’t here to sulk. Not really. I’d told myself I just needed to get out, clear my head. Let the city hold me for a while. But deep down, I wanted to forget. Maybe even get a little reckless.

I’d spent the last hour pretending to scroll through my phone, watching couples pass by, laughing, arms linked or fingers brushing. I tried not to let it eat away at me, but it did. That sharp twist of loneliness, edged with something hotter—want. Need. I wanted someone to see me. Crave me. Someone who didn’t know my past or my favorite coffee order or the sound of my laugh at 2 a.m. Someone who wouldn’t ask why I wasn’t home.

I ran a finger along the rim of my glass. I didn’t need a relationship. I didn’t even want a conversation. I just wanted out of my head.

That’s when I noticed him. Tall, broad-shouldered, leaning casually against the bar with a glass in his hand and his head tilted slightly toward me. He didn’t look like everyone else here—too understated. Wavy brown hair that curled at the ends, a plain black tee hugging his chest beneath a dark jacket, rings on his fingers that glinted every time he adjusted his grip on the glass. He had a quiet confidence, like he could ruin you without saying a word.

And then he walked toward me. My heart kicked up the moment our eyes met. His lips curled just slightly, but he didn’t smile.

“Mind if I sit?” he asked, voice low, smooth with that unmistakable British lilt.

I blinked up at him, pretending I wasn’t already a little dizzy. “Be my guest.”

He took the seat beside me—close, but not too close. Enough to feel the heat off his body. Enough to make me ache for more.

“Didn’t look like you were waiting for anyone,” he murmured, eyes still on mine.

“I wasn’t.” I tilted my head. “Are you always this forward?”

He chuckled softly, gaze dropping to my lips. “Only when it works.” God.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward—it was thick, full of something unspoken, crackling beneath the surface. I shifted in my seat, my dress brushing against his thigh as I did. He didn’t move. His scent—clean skin, faint spice, something woody and warm—settled into my nose like a drug.

“What’s your name?” I asked, voice a little breathier than I meant it to be.

“Harry,” he said, tilting his glass toward me. “You?”

“Cassie.”

“Cassie,” he repeated slowly, like he was tasting it. “Pretty name. You look like you’re not quite sure what you want tonight.”

That made me pause. My lips parted, but I didn’t speak. He leaned in just slightly, voice softer now, aimed only at me. “Or maybe you do. You’re just waiting for someone to ask.”

My thighs clenched instinctively. I could’ve played it coy. Could’ve teased or deflected. But something about the way he looked at me—like he already knew what I was thinking—made the words slip out before I could stop them.

“Do you have a room here?” His eyes darkened instantly.

“I do,” he said, voice gravelly now.

I stood, slowly, letting him look at me. His gaze dragged over every inch, lazy and deliberate.

“Then take me to it.”

————————————————————————————————

It should’ve felt too fast. But it didn’t. I followed him through the sleek glass elevators in silence. There was something magnetic in the stillness, something dangerous in the calm. The doors slid shut behind us, and I suddenly became aware of the way his hand brushed mine as he reached for the button. His knuckles were rough, the backs of his fingers dusted with ink. I wondered what his hands would feel like on my waist. On my thighs. Around my throat.

“Regret it yet?” he asked, barely glancing at me.

“Not even close.”

He nodded once. Didn’t smirk. Didn’t flirt. Just pressed his back to the elevator wall and let the air between us fill with everything we hadn’t said yet. The ride was slow. Too slow. I didn’t lean into him. He didn’t reach for me. But when the elevator dinged, I could still feel the tension in my gut, hot and liquid.

He walked ahead, key card ready, and I took my time watching him—broad shoulders rolling under that black jacket, jeans sitting low on his hips. His walk was confident, grounded. Like he knew exactly what he was doing. Like he wanted to make me wait.

Room 1014.

He slid the card in, the light flashed green, and he opened the door for me.

“After you.”

The room was dark and cool, the soft scent of linen and something musky drifting out from within. I stepped inside, heels clicking quietly against the hardwood. I heard the door click shut behind me. But he didn’t touch me. Not yet.

“You nervous?” he asked after a moment.

I turned toward him slowly, my hand resting on the back of a chair. “Should I be?”

His lips twitched, the ghost of a smile. “Not unless you’re scared of wanting something too much.”

I didn’t respond. I was too focused on the way he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over a chair. His sleeves hugged his arms, tattoos curling over his skin, disappearing into the dark fabric.

“I’m not going to rush you,” he said, stepping closer, voice low and even. “We don’t have to do anything.”

“I didn’t come up here to talk,” I replied quietly.

He raised an eyebrow, pausing a few feet in front of me. “Didn’t think you did. But you look like someone who’s been pushed around before.”

My jaw tensed. His eyes caught it.

“I won’t do that to you,” he said simply. “Even if you want me to.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. Instead, I took a step closer, closing the space between us until we were nearly chest-to-chest. I could see the gold flecks in his green eyes now. I could smell the heat on his skin. He didn’t move. He didn’t reach. He just looked at me like he was waiting.

So I whispered, “What if I want to be touched?”

His voice dropped. “Then tell me where.”

My breath caught somewhere between my chest and throat. I didn’t answer right away. I was too aware of the silence stretching between us, too wrapped in the feeling of his gaze on me. There was no smirk, no playfulness in his face—just heat. Pure and controlled and terrifying in how much it made me want.

I swallowed. “Everywhere.”

He blinked, slowly.

“Cassie,” he said, low and deliberate, like he needed to say my name just to stay grounded. “You sure?”

I nodded, but he didn’t move. He waited. Patient. Unrelenting.

So I said it. “Yes.” That was all he needed.

His hand lifted first, fingertips grazing the side of my jaw so lightly I barely felt it. But I leaned in anyway, craving more. He cupped my cheek, thumb tracing a path just below my eye, and his other hand followed—slow and careful—brushing down the slope of my neck until his palm pressed just above my collarbone.

“You’re warm,” he murmured.

“You’re slow.”

He smiled at that, a tiny curl at the corner of his mouth. “That’s on purpose.”

His hands traveled downward, not groping—just exploring. Over the curve of my shoulder, down the outside of my arms, until his fingers wrapped gently around my wrists. He guided my hands to his chest, placed them there like he wanted me to feel him. And I did. Solid warmth under soft cotton. A steady heartbeat under inked skin.

“You haven’t been touched like this in a while,” he said softly. It wasn’t a question. And I didn’t deny it.

His thumb brushed over the inside of my wrist, eyes holding mine.

“Tell me something,” he whispered.

“Mm?”

“What were you thinking about… when I walked over to you?”

I let out a slow breath. “Whether or not you’d be worth it.”

His grin deepened, and something flickered in his eyes—darker now, mischievous, but still patient. He dipped his head just slightly, his lips brushing the shell of my ear as he asked, “And what do you think now?”

“I think you’re still being too careful.”

His hands slid down to my hips, fingers curling around the fabric of my dress. “You want reckless, don’t you?”

I nodded, barely.

“You want to forget.”

“Yes.”

He stepped forward, pressing his body against mine without warning, and I gasped—his chest firm against mine, his thigh between mine, his hand suddenly tangled in my hair. He didn’t kiss me. He just looked at me, holding me still.

“Say it,” he murmured.

“I want to forget.”

“Forget what?”

“Everything.”

His mouth brushed mine. “I can do that.” And then he kissed me.

God—he kissed me like he meant to erase every other man before him. His lips were soft but sure, coaxing rather than demanding. But when I opened my mouth to him, he groaned low in his throat and pressed me back toward the bed. I went willingly.

He guided me with both hands, like he’d done it a hundred times before, like he knew exactly where my body would go and how it would respond. When the backs of my knees hit the edge of the mattress, he paused. His forehead rested against mine, and his fingers slid down the length of my arms again.

“You nervous?” he asked again, but softer this time.

“No.”

“Good.”

He kissed me again—deeper now, slower, teeth scraping just enough to make my knees buckle. I clutched the front of his shirt, pulling him in closer, and this time he let his hands wander. One dragged up my thigh, pushing the hem of my dress higher. The other trailed over my ribs, just barely grazing the side of my breast.

“You feel good,” he whispered against my lips.

“Then touch me.”

His smile curved against my mouth. “I am.”

“Not enough.”

He laughed once—low and rough—and his mouth moved to my jaw, then my throat. He took his time there, letting his lips brush over my pulse before sucking gently at the skin. I arched into him, desperate for more, but he didn’t rush.

“Cassie,” he said again, dragging my name out like a promise.

“Yes.”

“Tell me what you want.”

“You.”

“You have me.”

I pulled back slightly, looking at him. His eyes were dark, pupils blown, lips kiss-swollen.

“I want your hands on me,” I said quietly.

He didn’t respond. Just leaned in, slowly, and kissed the corner of my mouth before pulling back entirely. For a second, I thought he was stopping. But then he dropped to his knees. My breath caught. He looked up at me from the floor, palms gliding up the backs of my thighs, pushing my dress higher, higher, until I was completely exposed to him. He didn’t touch me—not there. Not yet. He just stared, taking his time.

“You’re trembling,” he said.

“I know.”

He pressed a kiss to the inside of my thigh. “You’re soaked.”

“I know.”

And then—finally—he slid my panties down, inch by inch, until they pooled at my ankles. He helped me step out of them, kept eye contact the entire time, and pocketed them with a smirk.

“Souvenir,” he said, like it was nothing.

“Fuck,” I whispered, breathless.

“I haven’t even started yet.” He said it like a promise. Like a threat. Like he already knew how I’d unravel.

I didn’t move. Couldn’t. Just stood there in front of him—bare from the waist down, dress hiked around my hips, legs slightly parted, breathing shallow. Harry stayed on his knees, still holding eye contact. The sight of him like that—broad shoulders, messy curls, gaze locked on me from beneath long lashes—made something inside me twist.

Then he leaned in. His hands slid slowly up the backs of my thighs again, thumbs brushing over the curve just beneath my ass. He kissed the inside of one thigh, then the other. Feather-light. Like he had all the time in the world.

“Still want this?” he murmured against my skin.

“Yes,” I breathed, my voice thin.

“Good. Wanna taste how fucking sweet you are.”

He hooked one of my legs over his shoulder. The shift forced me to balance with one hand gripping his hair, the other clutching the edge of the dresser behind me. He didn’t tease. Didn’t draw it out. The first stroke of his tongue was slow—so slow—it made me gasp. The second had my hips tilting forward. By the third, he was groaning into me like he needed it just as much as I did.

“Fuck, look at this cunt,” he muttered, voice rough against my skin. “Dripping all over my tongue already.”

He hummed in response, the vibration shooting straight through me. One arm wrapped tighter around my thigh, holding me steady while his mouth worked in slow, deliberate circles. He alternated between soft licks and firm pressure, and when I squirmed, he simply gripped me harder, tongue dragging deeper, wetter, filthier.

“Gonna ruin this pussy,” he said between licks, lips slick and red now. “Gonna fuck you so hard you forget your own name.”

The words made me moan. My head dropped back, my spine arching as pleasure crept higher, faster than I wanted it to.

“Harry—” I choked out.

“Yeah, baby? That close already? Go on. Fucking soak my face.”

“I’m gonna—”

“Cum for me. Wanna feel that pretty pussy fall apart.” That did it.

My orgasm hit with a low, desperate cry, my legs trembling as I came against his mouth. He held me steady, licking me through it, only easing up when I was gasping for air. When he finally pulled back, his mouth was shiny, and his expression was dark, intense, like he wanted more.

“Fuck,” I breathed. “That was…”

He stood up, licking his bottom lip as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “That was just your warm-up.”

I blinked. “Warm-up?”

“Yeah, love. I’m not even close to done with you.”

He kissed me hard—filthy and deep, tongue sweeping into my mouth like he wanted me to taste myself. I moaned into it, grabbing at the hem of his shirt, pulling until he raised his arms. I tossed it to the floor and finally got a full look at him.

Jesus.

His chest was strong, defined, tattooed with black ink that danced over his collarbones and down his ribs. I ran my hands over it slowly, letting my nails drag. He hissed softly, eyes dropping to my hands.

“You’re fucking unreal,” I whispered.

“Wait ‘til you feel me inside you.”

He turned us toward the bed and lowered me onto it gently. Then he undid his jeans, pushing them down his hips—no boxers underneath. My eyes widened slightly at the sight of him: thick, flushed, already hard. He caught the way I looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

“You gonna be a good girl and take every inch?”

“Every single one.”

He crawled onto the bed and hovered over me, trailing kisses down my throat, between my breasts, over my stomach. Then he paused, hands bunching the hem of my dress again.

“Still want me to fuck the heartbreak out of you?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Gonna make you cum ‘til you forget who fucked you over.”

He pushed the dress up and over my head, leaving me fully naked beneath him. I felt bare in every way, but I didn’t look away. Not when his hand gripped my jaw. Not when he leaned in and kissed me like he owned me.

“Condom?” he asked against my mouth.

“In my purse.”

He reached for it without rushing, pulling one out and tearing the wrapper with his teeth. My thighs rubbed together while I watched him roll it on—his hands slow, practiced, deliberate. When he looked back at me, I was already panting.

“Spread those legs for me, pretty girl.”

He didn’t make me ask twice. The first push of him inside me stole every thought from my brain. He was thick, stretching me inch by inch, and still slow—always slow.

“Shit—this pussy’s so fucking tight,” he groaned, forehead pressing to mine. “So warm. Fucking made for me.”

I wrapped my legs around his waist, drawing him deeper. “Please fuck me. Don’t make me wait.”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. Gonna fuck you nice and deep.”

He set a rhythm that made my body burn. Deep, steady thrusts that dragged across every sensitive spot. His hand found my throat—not tight, just enough pressure to make me feel claimed—and his other hand slid under my knee, angling me open even more.

“Look at me,” he said. I did.

“Let me see how pretty you look when you take cock.”

He fucked me with purpose—filthy, perfect purpose. His hips ground against mine with every thrust, pelvis catching my clit just right, making my moans get louder, higher. I clawed at his back. He kissed me through it, groaning when I clenched around him.

“You gonna cum again for me, baby?”

“I’m close,” I gasped.

“Do it. Cum on this cock—make a mess. Want you soaking me.”

I shattered with a cry, body arching beneath him, eyes fluttering shut as my second orgasm tore through me. He didn’t stop—just fucked me through it, still holding eye contact like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. When I came down, he was still moving—slower now, controlled.

“You okay?” he whispered.

I nodded, breathless. “Don’t stop.”

He groaned again, hips stuttering slightly. “Gonna fill you up, even if you can’t keep it in.”

“Do it.”

He kissed me hard one last time, then buried himself to the hilt and came with a low, drawn-out moan, his grip bruising on my waist. I held him through it, shaking slightly, head spinning. Then he collapsed beside me, chest heaving. Silence filled the room. Not awkward. Just… full.

I turned my head toward him. He was already watching me.

“Worth it?” he asked.

I smiled. “You have no idea.”

*****

hope you enjoy this one lovelies! 💕

don’t forget to ask any request you'd want to see next

[lieslab]

You know I can't fight the feeling

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Chan X gn reader

Summary: Your boyfriend's simple mistake causes him to feel like the world is ending

Genre: Reverse comfort/hurt

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: I know I said there'd be a Hyunjin fic up and it will be up tomorrow. Someone posted Chan's bubble message where he said he always hurts people and that felt like being shot in the chest. Parasocial relationships aside, nobody deserves to feel hopeless and feel like they can't do anything right. If you have bubble, please be kind to the guys. To the rest of us, let's be a little kinder to ourselves, yeah? <3

_ _ _

The soft knocking on the recording studio’s door caused Chan to glance up from his laptop. The usual beats and instrumentals came to a halt quite a while ago. For the past twenty minutes, he’d been staring at the screen and letting his mind wander. 

He didn’t move, wondering which one of his members would appear. Someone probably saw the bubble message he posted and they’d be here to talk to him, but he didn’t want to talk. What was there to say? He was drowning in all the pressure from everyone and everything. 

It never goes away, not really. When you’re the leader, the eldest, the most mature, and the one that’s responsible for everyone, even when those you’re responsible for grow up, you still feel for them. There’s still a part of you that bends and contorts to make them happy. Fifty or five, it doesn’t matter. Once you start to care in certain ways, it never goes away. 

And it doesn’t help when the world is watching. Why do people want him to fall? He doesn’t know. He might never know. One minor mistake. Lately, it’s felt like a thousand. One minor mistake to you, but a million to me. 

You become a lifeline in certain situations. The emergency contact. The one person to go for advice. The leader. The father. The best. What happens when those expectations crumble? Who is there for you? 

Why do people do that? Assume someone is meant to hold all your expectations and not drop a single one? Nobody fills the role of perfection and yet, it’s still expected. Who picks you up when the world lets you down? Who picks me up? 

“Hey,” you uttered softly as you appeared in the doorway. You with a softness on your face and he knew it just by that look. The way your eyes oozed with pity. The frown that only crossed your face when you were worried. 

“I don’t want that pity.” His head went back to his laptop. “If you saw that message I posted, I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“I’m not here because of the bubble message. I’m here because the guys said you went radio silent a few hours ago and you’ve been declining their calls and leaving their messages on read without a response.” 

“Just perfect. More expectations that I’ve ruined.” He pushed the top of his laptop down with a hard thud. Your heart instantly ached at the sight. “How many more things can I ruin because of my choices?” 

“You don’t ruin things.” 

“I ruin everything.” 

Your heart sank to your stomach. What do you say to someone who holds those beliefs rooted in their heart? You can cut down a tree, but the roots still embed deep into the ground, twisting through soil, and contorting towards earth’s core. 

“That’s not true,” you whispered. 

“Of course, it’s true. It’s always true. I make one minor mistake and everyone jumps me for it. God forbid I do something wrong.” He jerks up his hands. “There’s a Dispatch article tarnishing my name. Videos get posted to social media sites with hate comments in masses. I meant it, I can’t do anything right.” 

“And what about all the other videos where you do things perfectly? The way you thank the band members who play for your shows. Thanking supporting staff when you don’t have to. Taking the time to thank the security personnel for keeping you safe.” 

“I-” 

“And what about all the time you sat on live streams giving out advice for free, to the people who genuinely needed it? All the smiling and the laughter. The vulnerable moments you shared. Those hour sessions made people feel like they weren’t alone in life.” 

His heart ached. You stepped further into the room. “And what about the staff members who gush about you? There’s a reason people call your group kind and cherish you. There’s always a reason you get photoshoots and so many interviews. It’s not just because of your company, but because you’ve created a group that cherishes kindness and passion. You believe that it’ll take you far, even when you struggle to maintain that image.” 

“But there are people who…” 

You sat the paper bag down on the coffee table behind him. A leather couch expanded. Multiple times, the guys sat on it waiting their turn to record. Changbin and Han took turns sitting beside Chan in the producer’s seat. 

When a third chair couldn’t be found, Han wormed his way onto Changbin’s lap. Other times, he squirmed onto Chan’s lap like a fussy toddler. Grumbling and huffing, stressing about recording and trying to do things right. On better days, he stretched out over them and joked that he’d stay there, pretending to be their joint child forever. 

“I know, but you have to focus on the good stuff. If you only focus on the bad stuff out there, it’ll kill you. You. Your passion. Your love for what you have. I’m here to remind you that the good still exists, even when the bad feels like it’s outweighing it.” 

He sucked in a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. “I know, but it’s so hard. It’s hard to get onto bubble and look at all the messages telling me I fucked up. I’m really trying to be better and be aware of it all. I’m trying, I swear.” 

“You’re allowed to ignore the messages. I know you like reading people’s responses and feeling giddy. There are so many places where you can go and find the outpouring love that you deserve.” 

“But the fans paid for bubble.” 

“And that’s their right, but it’s your right to create healthy boundaries for yourself. If you are receiving more hate on bubble than support, go somewhere else. You can post something on bubble and go to another site, too. Don’t read through mountains of hate because you think you have to. Stop punishing yourself simply for existing.” 

For a brief moment, a lump in his throat grew. A bottom lip quivered and right in front of you, he thought he’d break. The hate filled his heart so much, he thought it’d burst. Deep down, he knew people cared, but it was difficult to pull himself away from it all. 

Everyone wants affection and praise. Everyone wants to be seen as valid and craves reassurance. When the hate trickles in, whether it’s from friends, family, or fans; it pours. The only thing you can think of is how much you let them down. It stings. It aches. It soaks your heart in acid and it reacts by causing your brain to scream at you. 

Before the tears fell, he forced himself to place his head in his hands. Besides his bleeding heart, a sniffle sounded. For so long, he’d relied on the fans for everything. What more could he do? 

When you grow up in such a world without the constant support of people around you, you learn to rely on validation where you can get it, even if it’s not the healthiest kind. Just because his phone is filled with supportive texts and calls from family and close friends, it’s not the same as being there to hold them tight in real life. To hear their words, to take in their facial expression, to truly hear and know that you’re doing well. 

When your own worst enemy is your brain, sometimes, you begin to think the entire world is against you. All the praise you hear from people around you, you never take it to heart because you think they say that just to appease you and try to slather your hurt. You never believe it, not really; never fully. 

Deep in the trenches of the idol industry, when management forces diets and group secrets, all you have is the people around you and the fans. Always a constant steady stream of support, usually, but when one minor mistake feels like a downfall, what’s the point of any of it? 

Those thousands of minnows feel like circling sharks. Sharp teeth, gnashing jaws, and you’re just a human. Words bite into your skin and rip it apart. Blood fills the water; a weakness that they can sense and then it begins again. A never ending cycle that leaves you defeated and floating as a deceased corpse. 

It takes so long to build yourself back up. Your belief in the good. The belief that thousands and thousands of fans aren’t against you. It never turns out the way you want it to, but what else can you do when the relationships with people around you have been tricky your entire life?

Seven years alone in an industry where people come and go. Just when you think you’ve finally latched onto someone, they’re ripped away again. Forced to debut without you. Quitting because the pressure to be perfect is just too much. 

When you’re shoved into an industry that molds perfection, you’re supposed to keep it that way. Growing up in a culture where if you aren’t striving and you’re not constantly moving and pushing forward, you’re falling behind. There will always be someone better; a wolf chasing on the heels of a rabbit. 

How do you break that mindset? Breaks will not kill you. A reaction from a certain number of fans over a minor mistake is not the end of the world. Slowing down and taking a moment to breathe is a good chance to recuperate. 

You walked over and placed a hand on the back of his head. He didn’t fight you pulling his head into your stomach. His arms wrapped around your waist tightly. “Please don’t be mad at me, too.” He croaked. 

“I’m not mad at you for making a mistake. I make them, too. I brought food because I wasn’t sure if you were hungry.” 

After a few moments of closeness, he pulled away and pawed at his streaming tears. His mouth opened, but his stomach beat him to it. A growl roared before it faded into silence again. 

“Sounds like you’re starving to me.” 

He weakly laughed and nodded. “I guess you could say that, yeah. It’s been a while since I last ate.” 

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” 

“Thank you for coming.” 

“No worries, let’s eat well together, shall we?” You smiled and glanced up. He sniffled and nodded, wondering what you bought for dinner. He watched you open the bag and let you lay out everything. 

Today, you’d feast together and tomorrow was another day; tomorrow he’d try again.

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @inlovewithstraykids @velvetmoonlght @chrizrizz

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[darkmatilda]

𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: when the case hits too close to home, spencer makes an assumption about you. you decide to prove him wrong, even though, of course, you don’t care what anyone thinks. and especially not him.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x diva!chemist reader, case involving school bullying, diva reader and penelope taking control over the world, diva kinda opening <3

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 3.5k

𝐚/𝐧: anon's request

Garcia’s office was a kind of safe space.

Small, yes, but that only made it quieter, calmer—a place where very little could overwhelm the senses. But what truly made it what it was, what mattered most, was its owner. The way she’d lift her eyes from her screen and flash a wide, welcoming smile at anyone who stepped inside. Even wider if that someone happened to be a member of her beloved team. Since most of her work kept her stationed at her desk, she didn’t see them as often as she’d like—a fact she openly complained about, insisting they could at least make an effort to drop by more.

Fifteen minutes earlier, she’d called Spencer, saying she’d found something on the case they were working on. The case that had been gnawing at him from every angle since the start, sending dull pulses of pain through his skull as his mind struggled to push back old, painful, unwelcome memories. The case that, more than ever, made him long to disappear somewhere quiet, undisturbed. Not completely alone—just in the company of someone he genuinely liked, someone who, more often than not, could pull him away from dark thoughts simply by being there.

As familiar doors came into view, someone was just stepping through them. After they closed, that someone turned back briefly, shaking his head with a quiet sigh.

“I’m gonna curse the day I introduced them to each other for the rest of my life,” Morgan muttered under his breath.

Spencer stopped a couple of steps away, his brow creasing slightly.

“Introduced who?” he asked.

At first, his friend’s expression flickered with surprise at seeing him. But then something strange crossed his face—a brief smirk, followed by a dismissive shake of his head.

“No one,” he said evasively.

Spencer was about to press further when he noticed something odd in Morgan’s gaze—a shadow of something close to concern, which managed to catch him off guard even more than his friend's unusual behavior.

“By the way, you good, Reid?”

Spencer tensed slightly at the question. He knew exactly why Morgan was asking. A long time ago, he had opened up to him about it. Looking back, he knew it had been the right call—something he had needed to do—but there were moments, like this one, when he regretted it. Moments when Morgan could read him too easily.

He cleared his throat, keeping his tone perfectly neutral.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I just need to talk to Penelope,” he said, tilting his chin toward the door in an attempt at a subtle subject change. “She says she found something.”

Morgan studied him in silence for a moment before nodding. A quiet understanding. No pushing. As he walked past, he clapped a hand briefly against Spencer’s back in that familiar, brotherly way of his.

“Oh, and Reid—”

He stopped after only a few steps, glancing back over his shoulder. Something flickered in his eyes, something suspiciously close to amusement. But why?

“Fix your tie. Trust me.”

Spencer frowned in confusion, watching as Morgan walked away. After a second, his gaze dropped to the mentioned tie which, well…okay, it wasn’t exactly at its best. Then again, he was heading to Garcia’s office, not a meeting with the president. Though, if he really thought about it, looking presentable for Penelope ranked higher on his priority list than looking presentable for the president.

He straightened his tie and stepped inside.

It didn't take Spencer long to understand why Morgan had been acting the way he had, muttering odd things about introducing someone to someone else. What he didn’t get, however, was why he’d been told to fix his tie.

Anyway, as soon as he opened the door, he was met with not one, but two familiar women. One behind the desk, the other, as usual, perched delicately on top of it (Spencer was starting to suspect that she would rather settle herself on the ceiling than sit properly in a chair).

He couldn't suppress the frustrated sigh that escaped him, drawing the attention of both women and interrupting their lively conversation.

“Finally,” Penelope sighed, half-turning in her chair to face him. “I was starting to think you forgot about me.”

“You called fifteen minutes ago,” he reminded her, not bothering to hide his displeasure, or the tension building in his body due to the presence of the second woman. Every interaction with her seemed to follow the same pattern—plenty of banter and playful jabs, which he really wasn't in the mood for today. He decided that he’d simply ignore her for now.

Well, that didn’t work out. Almost immediately, when he sensed her gaze on him, he responded to it, adding to Penelope, “But it doesn’t look like you’ve been bored waiting for me.”

The two exchanged looks, identical smirks spreading across their faces. Spencer felt a slight, uneasy shiver run down his spine. They had barely known each other before, but when he mentally summed up their personalities, this combination could be very, very dangerous.

Thanks, Derek.

 "Because I wasn't," Penelope shot back casually. "God, I really needed to expand my social circle. I had no idea how much drama and gossip I'd been missing out on!"

She nodded enthusiastically, her hands resting on the edge of the desk as she grinned smugly.

"So glad this collab happened. All Spencer Reid's dirty secrets revealed in less than fifteen minutes."

He slowly shifted his gaze, locking it onto his friend. Garcia raised both hands in a defensive gesture, an apology flickering in her eyes.

“She was joking! Seriously, she was joking!” she explained hurriedly. “You know all your dirty secrets are safe with me. All of them!”

Spencer didn’t feel convinced in the slightest, especially seeing the shameless twitch of the corners of both women’s mouths. He felt genuinely uneasy about what she might have said about him. He knew—he was sure—that Penelope wouldn’t reveal anything that could truly hurt him or was exceptionally private, but there was a whole range of random tidbits she might not consider a big deal, yet he didn’t want her to know any of them. She already had enough ammunition to tease him, she didn’t need more.

Penelope tilted her head, looking genuinely concerned.

“You don’t believe me?” she asked. She turned her gaze to her new acquaintance. “He doesn’t believe me. Tell him you were just joking.”

The woman stared at her silently for a moment, then rolled her eyes and slowly locked eyes with Spencer.

“Just joking. And seriously, do you think I care about which chess tournament you cheated at twenty years ago? No.” she snorted, sounding sincere. Spencer allowed his shoulders to relax slightly. But before he could breathe a full sigh of relief, her eyes didn’t just sparkle—they lit up completely, like an alarm signaling an incoming bomb. “But it was so iconic of you, pulling that actress, I wouldn’t expect that from you—”

“Garcia!”

“Oh Reid, it just slipped out!”

His long, disbelieving sigh, Penelope's rapid-fire apologies, and the proud, toothy grin that flashed across the woman's face as she twisted her lips into a full smile. It was a scenario that could be his eternal punishment if he ever ended up in Tartarus. He'd rather be pushing that damned stone uphill.

At some point, he decided to cut the conversation short, reminding himself that he had come there with a specific purpose.

"Alright, Garcia, show me what you've found."

"Sorry again, sweetie," she said quietly, turning to her computer and tapping something with her colorful-ringed fingers on the keyboard. Spencer stepped closer to see what would appear on the screen. This required him to stand almost directly in front of the woman sitting on the desk. In the relatively small space, her knee brushed against one of his legs.

"But hey, I could’ve said something even worse," Garcia continued, pulling him out of his brief moment of thought. "Like, for example..."

She silenced herself with her hand.

"Like, for example..." the other woman teased, leaning closer to her.

Spencer slowly shifted his gaze towards her, which only made him more aware of their proximity. They were less than an arm’s reach apart, but he had been forced to get this close just to catch a glimpse of what Penelope wanted to show him.

"You said you weren't interested in any chess tournament I might've cheated at twenty years ago," he reminded her.

She pouted her lower lip as her eyebrows shot up.

"Oh, so there was cheating at a chess tournament."

"Please. Twenty years ago, I was already playing in national championships. You think there was room for cheating?"

"I think you could've figured something out."

"No, no way. They were watching us like—"

"Look at this, Reid," Penelope interrupted him mid-sentence.

Both he and the other woman immediately turned their heads toward the blonde's computer, freezing in place as they silently analyzed what they were seeing.

"This is the forum of that school where someone planted explosives in students' cars. As you can see, one name keeps coming up. This boy, specifically."

"Your suspect?" the woman asked, searching Reid's face for confirmation.

She wasn't directly involved in the case—maybe this was the first time she was even hearing about it. Spencer gave a slight nod, his eyes still scanning the posts on the forum. Cruel. Really cruel.

"Can you check who exactly wrote them?" he ignored the question directed at him, speaking instead to Penelope.

She didn't like being ignored. Her stare was practically burning a hole into the side of his face.

Garcia nodded. 

"The forum is anonymous, but I managed to trace it. And as you can probably guess...the accounts belonged to the victims of the previous attacks."

"So...they were like his school bullies? Meaning they became victims of someone they used to torment?" the woman asked again, summarizing the information.

Spencer felt a flicker of irritation at her persistence. This wasn't her job—she technically shouldn't even be here. Every question she asked, every time she spoke, it disrupted his train of thought, pulling him out of the focused mindset he was trying to maintain. Her proximity wasn’t helping either.

He straightened up, increasing the distance between them.

"Considering a career change to profiling?" he asked.

She narrowed her eyes at his dry tone.

"I'm just curious."

"Don't be. It's distracting."

"I'm distracting you?"

"Kids, don't fight," Garcia scolded them without even looking up.

Her fingers moved swiftly and efficiently over the keyboard. Within moments, the online forum on the screen transformed into a paused video.

“This is footage from one of the cameras I somehow managed to access. You can’t see the explosion itself, but you can see someone walking away. It’s dark, and he’s wearing a hood, but the height matches, and honestly, it could be Jamie.”

She was, of course, referring to the teenager they were looking for—the one who had run away from home after the second attack, right around the time he officially became a suspect.

“Look at the way he moves.”

Spencer studied the shadowy figure on the grainy footage.

“He’s limping,” he noted.

He sensed movement beside him—something lightly brushed against his arm as the woman shifted on the desk, angling herself to get a better look.

“I figured he might’ve gotten into a fight,” Penelope said. “He ran away from home, no one knows where he’s been staying—he could be living on the streets by now.”

For a moment, he considered her words, so lost in thought that he didn’t even realize he was shaking his head slightly.

“No, I don’t think so. I don’t think his escape was impulsive. He planned it from the start. He must have already found a safe place to go. But the limp…that’s bothering me. Garcia, see if you can get his medical records.”

“On it.”

It didn’t take her long to pull up a recent case of Achilles tendonitis.

Reid’s face lit up as the pieces suddenly clicked into place. The two women exchanged glances.

“Oh, I can’t wait for this,” she said, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “Let me guess, you’re about to link his tendonitis to the Yakuza or something.”

“He was a runner,” Spencer cut in, his mind flashing back to the conversation with Jamie’s parents, to the pair of well-worn running shoes with completely destroyed soles sitting near the doorway. “Given his struggles at school, he might have used running as a way to cope. And if he ran in the evenings, he could have used it as an opportunity to scout his victims’ houses without drawing much suspicion. As his situation worsened and the bullying escalated, he needed an outlet more than ever, so he ran more and more. Achilles tendonitis is a common injury among runners. When he lost his only way to clear his head, those violent thoughts he’d been battling started to build up, eventually pushing him into his killing spree.”

Spencer inhaled sharply—he had said all of that in one breath, so quickly it made his head spin. Fixing his gaze on her, he added “No Yakuza connection. Sorry if that disappoints you.”

For a moment, she just stared at him, lips slightly parted. A strange sense of satisfaction flickered in his chest at having rendered her speechless, even if only for a second. She recovered quickly, shaking her head slightly.

“You think running was his way of keeping those urges at bay?” she asked, skepticism lacing her tone.

“Not everyone copes by turning to, say, substances,” he explained. “Though, sure, those are some of the most...dramatic coping mechanisms. But for teenagers, who don’t always have access to that kind of thing, they find other outlets. Like sports, or... reading. Anything that lets them escape, even for a little while, from the nightmare they’re living every day.”

He could feel Garcia’s gaze on him, though he wasn’t looking at either of them as he spoke. Not really. Even though he stood directly in front of her, it was clear he was trying a little too hard to detach himself from the subject, his expression distant, almost absent.

“You should share that profile with the rest of the team,” Pen suggested.

After a brief delay, he nodded. Right. He needed to discuss it with them as soon as possible. He even turned toward the door, ready to leave his friend’s office with a passing farewell—when her voice stopped him.

“You’re really invested in this case, don’t you?”

He tried to decipher her true intent from her enigmatic tone, but he couldn’t. Instead, he simply shrugged it off.

“Like any other. It’s my job,” he replied, curt.

She tilted her head slightly, studying him. He decided this was as good a time as any—probably the best time—to take half a step back.

“You know what I mean,” she said, rolling her eyes just a little. “Personally invested. More than usual.”

He didn’t think she was right—or at least, he decided to believe that. But that didn’t stop him from responding with a passive-aggressive, “So what?” 

“That’s not healthy.”

He couldn’t hold back a scoff—he didn’t even try. If one of his friends had said something like that—JJ, Morgan, Hotch, especially Hotch—maybe he would’ve actually given it some thought. He would’ve known it came from a place of concern. But coming from her? His instinct was to interpret it as mockery. After all, that was what she’d conditioned him to expect throughout their entire acquaintance.

“You know, I’m not going to discuss this with you. Not that it’s something you’d understand anyway.”

His words carried a bitterness that etched a flicker of tension onto her face. Penelope silently observed as they stared each other down, her lips slightly parted in confusion at the position she had suddenly found herself in.

“You know what? Maybe I’ll just…leave you two for a moment,” she suggested, slipping out from behind her desk—almost as if she had completely forgotten that this was her office and that she had every right to kick them out instead.

Before either of them could so much as blink, she was already halfway out the door.

Spencer watched her go, gathering himself to stop her—but it was too late.

When his gaze landed back on the woman in front of him, her arms were crossed over her chest—a stance that demanded an explanation.

“Why do you think this is something I wouldn’t understand?”

He regretted saying it. Not because he didn’t believe it—he did—but because he could have just let it go, focused on something else. The case, for example. But the words were already out, and since she seemed so intent on getting an answer, he decided to give her one. As briefly as possible.

He started, of course, with a sigh.

“You’re curious about this case. You’re curious about why I care so much about it. And it shows. But let’s be honest—what could you really know about any of this?” He paused, watching as her brows slowly knit together. “About what this kid is going through. It’s not something you’d relate to, considering that back in high school, you were probably popular. Pretty. More the type of person who hurts kids like him.”

 For a brief moment, her face displayed nothing but surprise. Then, it was swallowed by coldness. Her chest rose as she took in a breath—only for the small room to be filled with the sharp sound of her scoff.

“So, you’re suggesting I was a bully?”

“No. I’m suggesting that, given certain…aspects of your personality, it’s more likely—”

“Oh, shut up with your probabilities.” She cut him off, stepping down from where she’d been sitting on the desk, finally planting both feet on the ground. Now, they stood face to face—her visibly angry, him a little confused by the outburst, considering he had merely stated a fact. “You categorize people terribly. I don’t know what kind of experience you’ve had, but teenagers don’t just split into victims and bullies.”

"I'm aware that they don't," he stated clearly. "But I also know that some of them don't even realize that they were. Because what seemed like jokes to them was years of trauma for others," he tried to explain.

Her lips parted again, but he cut her off, clarifying, "I'm not saying that was the case with you. I didn't know you back then. If you claim that you were liked by everyone, then congratulations. I won't question it again."

In the brief silence that followed, he swallowed hard, wondering if he should say sorry. For a moment, he felt like he should. After all, he had brought up the topic, and his words could have been taken the wrong way. But looking at the cold expression on her face, he knew she would only scoff at his apology, truly despising it.

To his surprise, when she spoke again, her voice was quieter.

"I wasn’t liked," she admitted shortly.

He hesitated for a moment, unsure if she was going to add anything else. Her gaze drifted slightly from his face; it no longer held anger but seemed to be looking somewhere far away. Lost in memories, probably.

"I was definitely not liked," she repeated, but this time, there was a certain lightness to it. "But I never cared about that. The only thing that mattered to me was whether the people I valued thought the same about me. I would have much rather been alone than stuck with girls who, I don't know, thought they were better just because they had nicer shoes. I'll admit, I could be a little mean to them. Sometimes."

"Sometimes?" he picked up on her words, raising an eyebrow. "And just a little?"

"Okay, I was awful when the situation called for it. It didn’t win me many friends, but I was, in a way…" She snapped her fingers, searching for the right word. "Respected."

Spencer, thinking it over more deeply, could actually picture her in the exact role she had just described.

"Just like now," he noted carefully.

She nodded.

"Well, some things never change," she muttered. "But for God's sake, I was never a bully. You really need to stop always assuming the worst about me."

Her unexpected confession stirred a certain kind of shame in him. This strange conversation, almost an argument, probably wouldn’t have even started if he hadn’t been walking around frustrated for days due to the case that had landed back in his hands. When he realized that, he thought that maybe she had a point about personal involvement not being the healthiest for him.

"Okay," he finally broke the awkward silence, which was only on his side, taking a deep breath. "Okay, I'll try."

She shook her head slightly, confused.

"Try what?"

"Not to assume the worst about you," he clarified. "From...now on."

For a moment, she stared at him in silence, her expression unreadable, until, of course, she did exactly what he had most expected. She let out a loud scoff. He had anticipated this so perfectly, he could have synchronized with her and mimicked the sound if he wanted to. But then, something almost small, ironic, but deep down, in her own way, amused appeared on her lips.

"Wow. What did I do to deserve this privilege?"

He shrugged.

“You were somewhat honest."

"Somewhat? I just told you my whole life story. Not only do you always assume the worst about me, but you also can't appreciate me."

He was about to roll his eyes, but not in his typical frustrated way, when Penelope's head popped into the room, gliding her gaze between them.

"My office is still standing, so I guess that's a good sign. You’re good, guys?"

They briefly exchanged glances. Well, given how their relationship usually looked, it was hard to classify it as good. But there was probably a more fitting word. It was stable. Between them, it was really stable.

[winsmoke]

Wow, I love the way you structured this story. Initially, I was weary because of y/n's persistence & her people-pleasing nature. There's a fine line between being an admirer & harassment and y/n was crossing it. But the way you drip fed the backstory was so incredible. I actually felt, as a reader, that I was more like Haechan than the y/n, skeptical & judgemental. I also did not like Jaemin at first because he was encouraging her (perceived?) harassment.

Y/n is a complex character, she was almost annoyingly kind and a die-hard people-pleaser. It made her extremely flawed (especially in communicating) yet charming. Although I do not agree with y/n choices to try and win Renjun back, I grew to like y/n in the end when all of her intentions were made clear. I will say though, like Renjun & Minnie said, I wish that y/n was given space to let herself be angry at someone other than herself. I liked that y/n got really close to being vulnerable when Haechan berates her at the party, it was soooo close. Now that I think about it, maybe Haechan would make a better partner. Since he's so honest with her, it would hopefully compel her to be more honest with others and herself.

The story itself is simple but the way it pushed me to explore and change my mind made the story wonderfully engaging and powerful. Thank you for writing this! There's an unfortunate lack of Renjun angst and this was quite amazing. I would love to know your inspiration & thought process in structuring the story this way.

The Fine Art of Rejection - h.rj

3/4 diary of the heartbreakers

summary ➸ ♡ Huang Renjun, the sweetie of the year, is one hard star to catch. Not as easy as his other friends, he's quite difficult to have. Although he has a fair share of affairs with girls, it is considered to be a rare occurence. But you? Oh boy were you something. You were quite head over heels over him. His friends could never understand, but you were persistent to get the boy. No matter how much he refuses your advances, Its like you found art in rejection. But to what degree can you hold it out?

"I can be everything I want, but fuck, I only wanted to be yours. Even though you couldn't be mine."

GENRE: Unrequited love, Humour, Fluff, Angst, Smut

WARNINGS: Minors DNI, Language, Explicit sexual content, Violence, Alcohol Usage, cheerleader!reader, asshole!renjun

AUTHOR's NOTE: This has gone way too angst-y than I planned but hey, i thrive for angst. Longer than what I expected but it's not gonna be a ryo fic if I stuck with the expected wc lmao. also i cried while writing this fic lol

WC: 19k (told ya)

DISCLAIMER: This story is purely fanfiction. Only the names of the Idols are used, and does not reflect on them in real life. There's no way in any shape of form that they are like this in person, because I MADE IT UP. I don't personally know them. DO NOT STEAL / TRANSLATE / MODIFY. This is my work and I don't appreciate people stealing it. Thank you.

Enjoy reading! -ryo

My dearest Renjun,

I hope you had a wonderful day! I heard you have an exam today. Don’t forget to eat on time, okay? Here’s some brownies, I know you love them xoxo

-y/n

You clicked your pen after writing the letter, spraying a bit of your perfume on the note. You put it nicely on top of the box of brownies before putting it on your bag.

You checked the time, and you nod when it says exactly 7am.

“Seriously, a handwritten letter? You’re crazy,” your roommate, Julie, sassed at your small box of sweets.

You tighten your shoe laces, before turning around to get your bag. You smiled at Julie, “It’s a habit,” You hear her scoff, but before she argues again, you are fast on your feet. 

As soon as you entered the school premises, you were greeted by some of the freshmen, waving at you. You of course, waved back and gave them a good morning back. It was nice to greet people, even if you don’t know them. You don’t know when a simple greeting could make someone’s day. It sure makes your day better at least.

You’re supposed to go left at the gym because you have practice at 7:30 sharp and you’ve used up all your chances to be late. However, if you run fast enough, you’re sure you’ll get there in time. 

“Hey, y/n! Be careful!” One student says as you run through the hallway. You still manage to respond with a smile. 

You look at your watch, and you silently curse. 7:15.

Once you made it at the school garden, you hover your eyes at the entire field and sure enough, you see who you’ve been looking for. 

There he was. He sat with his three other friends, which you knew of. Usually, it’s only him and Jeno, but this time, there’s Jaemin and Haechan with him at the picnic table. Haechan slumped in the table, Jaemin mindlessly watching something on his phone and Jeno, along with Renjun, seemingly studying for their upcoming exam.

You put on your best smile, and dust off your cheer uniform. 

Once you reach their table, you clear your throat. It was Jaemin who granted you attention first, and as soon as he looked at you, his smile beamed brighter than the sun. He’s good at that, a charmer, really. Too bad it doesn’t affect you in any way.

“Renjun, someone’s here for you,” He says through his smile and nudging Renjun.

You hear the boy grunt, and let out an exasperated sigh. Finally, he turns to you, and even if you swore you had a big smile, seeing him made it even bigger.

“Hi, Renjun! Uh,” you waved at him, and then brought the box of brownies out your bag, glad to see it's still in pristine condition. “--I brought brownies.. For you and your friends,” 

That’s when Jeno and Haechan, who suddenly woke up from his sleep, looked up at you.

Renjun rubs his forehead, and sighed again. He puts down his pen that he was holding from earlier. “Y/n, I told you, stop making these for me.” 

You gulp in nervousness. “Do.. do you not like them?” you can’t help sound dismayed, with the end of your sentence getting quieter.

“I like brownies. I just don’t like when it comes from you. Don’t you get that?” 

Honestly, you were expecting this. Renjun was always harsh, however, you like to think he’s just brutally honest. But you would be lying if you say that it doesn’t sting.

“Oh-kay,”  Jaemin joins the conversation, attempting to dilute the tension. Your smile falters for a second but you try your best to smile again. Jaemin continues, “Sorry, birdie, he’s just extra grumpy today ‘cause of the big exam later.. I’ll get that,” he grabs the brownies out of your hold. 

You whisper a small thank you to Jaemin. “Renjun, if you change your mind, I guess Jaemin has the brownies..” you still tried to sound cheerful.

Renjun, however, didn’t say anything. 

“I’ll shove it down his throat if I have to. Go on now, Birdie, I heard you guys have cheer practice at 7:30.” Jaemin answers for him again, sweet as ever. 

That piqued your interest. You raised your brows, “How’d you know?” 

“I have a friend in your squad. Now, shoo! Don’t wanna be late! Renjun says fighting!”  He grabs Renjun’s hand and waved it forcefully, but Renjun just pulls away from his hold.

“Okay. Uh, bye everybody! Bye, Renjun.” Your eyes glanced at him with hope, but came to no avail when he just continued reading his book. Jeno waved a little bit and Haechan just gave you a fake smile. Haechan, for reasons unbeknownst to you, doesn’t seem to like you either. But you don’t dwell on it too much because frankly, you don’t care.

Jaemin smiles, waving at you. You turn your heels and start to run. You have two minutes to get to the gymnasium. It was worth it tho, you like to start your day seeing him. 

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

After a few hours of practice, you were dismissed due to the classes you have later on the day.

“Why were you late this morning?” Sunghoon, one of your spotters on the squad, asks as you walk to your class.

You didn’t have a chance to answer, when Minnie spoke. “Duh, she did her daily rejection therapy, of course.” 

You shook your head and chuckled at her. “It’s not rejection therapy, Minnie.” 

“Oh please, Huang Renjun could literally stomp at your feet and you’ll still show up with freshly baked cookies the next day.” Minnie was annoyed more than anything, but you still smile at her. You know she means well.

You chose not to answer because really, what’s there to say? Minnie might sound mean, but she’s just telling the truth. 

Huang Renjun has rejected you more times than you can remember. Honestly, you think you’re immune to it now. Sometimes, you find it really interesting that he just won’t budge, at all. He hates your guts, but as long as he doesn’t have a girlfriend, and he doesn’t verbally say to your face that he hates you, technically, there’s nothing wrong with what you’re doing.

Much more women do worse, actually. Renjun’s really popular with women, despite the attitude and sass he possessed. Some girls are intrigued, curious as to how they could get with Renjun. Going further as to literally kneeling in front of him just to sleep with him. Poor Kim Chaeyon.

You’re not at that level of extremities yet, thank god.

Although he was picky, he did kind of have a fair share of girls. Some students call the girls he’s been with the chosen ones, making you laugh. Renjun has a standard, and he likes to abide by it.

Unlike his friends, Renjun can count in his fingers how many girls he was with. And boy, were they special.

Renjun is picky. He’s not someone you can just get together with just because you’re pretty. His standards are sky high, but hey, they don’t call you Birdie for no reason. 

“I don’t get why you keep on pursuing Renjun, to be honest. Yeah, I heard he’s hot shit, but come on. You’re Y/n. NCU Cheersquad Captain, Thee Bird, and not to mention, a Mathematics Olympiad runner up. You’re like.. Einstein’s hot little sister.” Minnie didn’t stop, even after class she blabbered about your undying admiration for Renjun, claiming it doesn’t make sense to her.

It doesn’t really matter how many times Minnie likes to remind you that Renjun isn't worth your time, your answer stays the same.

“I just like him. It doesn’t have to make sense to you, Minnie.” You say casually as you bite into your apple.

“Ugh! You’re insufferable,” She says before standing up and stomping her way out. You just laughed at her reaction. Minnie’s easily pissed, and it amuses you.

It’s past five when you finished your day, ready to head back to your apartment. Your routine was consistent, it sometimes just differs depending on your practice and classes. You never really enjoyed going out with your friends, not a party-goer, and most especially, you’re not really amused by other boys, much to your friend’s dismay.

There have been attempts, here and there, of trying to pursue you. You just don’t feel like giving  attention to any of them, when you already set your eyes on someone. It feels like a waste of time. 

When you enter your dorm, you see Julie, all dressed up and ready to go out. You eye her up and down and give her a smile. “Going on a date?”

“Yeah, uh,” You notice she’s struggling to clasp her bracelet, so you try and help her with it. 

“That dress looks cute on you,” you compliment her. 

Julie never really dresses up for dates, well, at least you don’t see her getting this dolled up for a date. You have always questioned that, because she’s always out on dates and she looks good in dresses as well. But hey, each to their own. 

“Thanks, y/n.” She replies with a forced smile, but you assumed it’s because she’s nervous. 

You walk inside further, leaving her in the doorway putting her shoes. “Hey, don’t forget your keys.” You remind her.

“Uhm, I think I won’t need them.” Your smirk got even wider at her response, understanding exactly what she meant. 

“You go, girl. Enjoy your date.” You giggled before you entered your room. 

You sigh as soon as your back hits the soft mattress, relieved that you’re now in the comfort of your own home. You don’t let your eyes rest for more than three minutes because you have papers to finish tonight and you don’t intend to accidentally pass out earlier than what you’ve planned.

You did your basic night routine, ready to turn on netflix before drowning yourself in papers.

Your last step was to put your phone on Do Not Disturb, but before that, you shoot a text to the one who matters to you the most. 

[8:01] to: renjun <3 

just got home! i hope u ate some of the brownies from earlier, it’s really good! enjoy your night and see you tomorrow, renjunnie! 

xoxo -y/n

[9:05 read]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

“Just go talk to him, y/n. Get your mind off that Renjun boy.” You roll your eyes at Minnie who nudges you. 

You don’t know why people even attempt to ask you out. You’ve made it clear that you only have eyes for Renjun, and the fact that you never went out with anyone should’ve made it obvious. Do you have to write it across your forehead? 

Sungchan’s nice. Really tall, not bad with the eyes either, and from what you’ve heard he’s a real sweetheart. Not a bad bone on his body. A perfect man, maybe, but not for you. Nobody really is for you unless it’s... well, you get it.

“Listen, atleast I tried, right?” He snickers, but you can tell it’s unenthusiastic. 

“I’m sorry, Sungchan.” 

“Should’ve listened to Jeno,” He whispers, one you can’t make out but you didn’t push. He then bids you goodbye, but before leaving, he asks you if you two could be friends. 

“Of course, we can be friends, Sungchan.” You’re glad he offered to be one, at least you don’t turn him down in every possible way. There’s still something there. 

He smiles at you again and now fully walks away. You also stood up and turned around, but when you do, you see Renjun, on the sidelines talking to Jeno and Yangyang.

Speak of the Angel.

You widen your eyes in great surprise, smiling ear to ear as you see him, hands folded in his chest. Seeing him instantly brightens your mood— even looking like the most intimidating person ever.

You silently run back, putting an extra hop in every step. You stop where Renjun is, and waved at him.

“Good morning,” you smile at him. You always give your best smile towards him, and not that you put an extra effort to, but he just brings it out of you. A magic pull, in some ways.

He takes a deep breath, “Morning,” he muttered, not even sparing you a glance before going back to whatever they were talking about.

You don’t know why, but you still stood there. You’re waiting for something, but you don’t exactly know what it is. Maybe, it’s just an excuse to look at him longer.

“What time is your lunch? Wanna grab lunch later?” You ask and you hear Jeno snorts on his side..

“I’m in the middle of a conversation, do you mind?” Renjun says, again with his usual cold tone towards you. In some twisted way, it made your chest flutter.

“You’re really cute,” you say, making both Jeno and Yangyang laugh. You don’t know what they find so funny. You’re just telling the truth. Renjun’s cute when he gets grumpy. Tho, sometimes you wish it’s not directly at you.

Renjun closes his eyes in frustration and grunts, you can tell there’s another strong statement that’s boiling in his mind. Before he could though, you heard Minnie’s voice from afar.

“Birdie! Practice back on!” 

“Oh, gotta go. Bye Renjun!” You say in your most cheerful voice, throwing him a wink before running back to your squad.

You giggle as you run through the field. You got to talk to Renjun! 

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Today, you’re opening auditions for the squad, to prepare for the upcoming cheerdance. 

Pulling up your phone to track the time, 6:54am. 

You carefully place the cupcake on the box, getting rid of your pink mittens and finally, a perfectly tied bow to finish it off. 

A glimmer of a smile appears on your face as you admire the box.

Packing it safely, you made your way out of your apartment, looking at your wrist watch, 8:32am.

"Just on time." You whispered to yourself.

"Hi, y/n!" A junior student greeted you as you passed by, which you bowed back. "Hello!"

"Good morning, y/n." You waved back to another student.

Finally, reaching up to the fourth floor, you strutted yourself to the empty hallways until you reached the abandoned elementary library. 

"Do Not Entry" It says on the door.

Knocking three times, finally, someone opened.

"Oh, hi, y/n-ie. I'm guessing this is for Renjun?" Jaemin, with his sweet smile, asked as his eyes fixed on the box you were holding.

"Hi, Jaemin. Yeah. Is he here yet?" You tried looking pass Jaemin,into the room, but to no avail, as he was literally blocking everything inside.

"No but I'll make sure he got this, alright?" Jaemin grabbed the lunchbox from you, not missing the opportunity to wink at you.

"Oh. I guess he's late. Okay, Jaemin. Thanks." Disappointed that you didn't get to see your Renjun, you turned around bitterly.

You decided to just get to your first class early. Only a few people was in the room, because its quite early for the class to start. You crossed your arms over the desk and rest your head. 

You're sure Renjun's just running late. Biting your lip, 

You pulled out your phone, texting Renjun. 

[9:01am] to: renjun

hi goodmorning! i brought u a cupcakes today. are u running late? be safe! xoxo -y/n

You didn’t see him the entire day, and even though you tried to focus on other things, your day didn’t seem complete without seeing his face. But you didn’t let it ruin your day, of course. You’re sure tomorrow, you’ll get to see him again. 

You hop your way back to your apartment, with your laptop bag on hand. It’s getting chilly, you notice. You thought about what you’ll eat for dinner when you exit the elevator.

You were about to take a step out, when you see someone in front of your apartment, hugging whom you assume is your roommate.

You can’t be mistaken. You’re sure it was Renjun. You can never mistake him for someone else.

Renjun’s hugging Julie, before smiling at her and letting her enter the apartment. 

Your lips fall ajar, baffled at what you saw. Your clutch in your bag tightens, and you feel sick. Renjun and Julie? Since when?

You immediately step back into the elevator, pushing the button desperately, just to get it to close. You don’t know if you can look Renjun in the eyes, at least not right now. 

When it slowly closes, you still stand there frozen. In a split second, in the tiny gap of the elevator, you see his face. And there, you see the shock on his eyes. But before anything else happens, the elevator closes.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

That night, you slept at Minnie’s apartment. You were lucky that her roommate’s nice enough to let you, although Minnie says that you don’t ever need any permission to sleep over at hers. You smiled at the thought that at least, you have Minnie.

It was rough, to say the least. You weren't a stranger to heartbreak, especially when it comes to Renjun. You’ve literally liked him for so long, and you’ve witnessed him with girls before. This one’s just special because it’s your roommate. It’s Julie, for christ sake. 

She witnessed your Renjun shenanigans for months. She would even laugh at you for waking up early just to prepare food for Renjun. God, you sure looked stupid. 

Despite Minnie’s disapproval, you still sent a text to Julie, informing her that you wouldn’t be going home tonight. You still apologize for making her wait, if she ever did wait for you. You never received a reply back, but she’s just probably asleep by now.

The next morning was tough. You don’t know if you should still bring snacks to Renjun, maybe you should respect his relationship with Julie. So you didn’t. 

You went to the campus half asleep, Minnie offering to buy you a drink from the cafe. You seriously can’t thank her enough.

Sunghoon was the first one to greet you at the gymnasium. 

“Hey, captain!” He waves, completely oblivious to your bad mood. However, you still waved back and gave him a smile.

“How many are auditioning?” You ask as you sit in one of the chairs that's laid out.

“Thirty? I don’t know, but I recall seeing your roommate on the list tho? You never told me that your roommate’s interested in Cheerleading?” 

You froze. Julie’s auditioning? You might just pull your hair out. You really cannot catch a break, huh?

You scan the paper he held out, and much to your dismay, her name’s listed. Han Julie. 

You mentally curse at yourself. 

And in some effed’ up timing, you hear a couple of steps coming in the gymnasium. You assumed it was your other teammates, or one of the students that's auditioning, but you were dead wrong.

Sunghoon stood up, looking at your back since you’re seated facing back at the hall. 

“Oh? Renjun, Haechan and Jaemin’s here.” He says in a casual tone, you, on the other hand, just wanted the floor to eat you alive. There’s no way this is happening to you right now.

“Can you deal with them for a bit? I have a headache,” You rub your temples to up your acting, Sunghoon obediently nodding and walking towards them.

But before you can even catch a breather, Sunghoon returns. 

“They want to talk to the captain, Birdie,” He says carefully, afraid to piss you off. But you can never be pissed off, silly Sunghoon.

You smiled, and stood up. You start walking towards the three men who stands out like a sore thumb, with Haechan’s leather jacket and Jaemin’s baggy ripped jeans. Renjun, still looks like an angel, and in your eyes, he fits wherever he goes.

“Hey, hi. You guys need something?” You ask, in your usual tone. Avoiding looking at Renjun because you know you can’t help but to melt in his stare.

“Hi, birdie. Actually,” Jaemin smiled, grabbing Renjun’s shoulder and pushing him slightly towards you. “--Renjun here, just dragged us here. Apparently, he wants to talk to you!” He wiggles his brows excitedly.

“Oh?” You act surprised, now looking at Renjun because you literally have no choice.

“You want us to give you some space or—” Before Jaemin could even finish, Renjun interrupted him, grabbing at his friend’s forearms, to avoid him leaving. 

“No, this’ll be quick,” His tone was cold, nothing new to you. 

Haechan, on the other side of him, just looks bored. Honestly, he looks like he just woke up. But when he saw the other cheerleaders walk in, his body jolted. Typical. 

“Listen, y/n.. uh,” Renjun clears his throat, “My friend.. Julie is auditioning. I just want to let you know that she’s really good at cheer and I want you to really consider letting her in the team.”

His friend? Oh, you want to throw up. He’s sick. He’s really… ah, he’s really done it now. You didn’t know Renjun could ever ruin your day, but wow.. He just did.

“Wait, what the fuck?” You hear Jaemin curse beside him, Haechan just letting out a laugh. You wanted to burst out in anger and bash his head in concrete, but that’s not very nice.

You decide that you can’t handle this kind of conversation at 9 in the freakin’ morning. 

“Renjun, I would love to let her in the team, but she really needs to pass the auditions first. I’m not the only one who decides if a someone gets in. I’m sorry.” 

He didn’t say anything, but let out a deep sigh. “Alright, I know she’ll pass the audition. Anyways, we’ll watch…” 

You nod, not having the energy to keep up with him. You immediately turn your heels and you walk away. Yeah, this will be a long day.

Surprisingly, there’s a lot of people who showed up for the auditions. Apparently, some had an info that Haechan, Jaemin, Jeno and Renjun are watching, (Jeno showing up half an hour after the other three arrived) and that’s when a wave of students came in. 

You didn’t let your sour mood ruin your judgment, so you put on your big girl pants, and watched every audition in full professional mode. You don’t want to sabotage the team, by letting just about anyone join just because you’re not in the mood.

They were good, you have to point out some hopefuls that didn’t fit the criteria, in the nicest way you could. However, Minnie took her role as your ‘anger translator’ seriously.

“Are you sure you know what you were auditioning for?” 

“Oh honey, you’re really good! You should really try to be a singer.” 

Or sometimes, just cutting off the music mid-performance. Of course, you scolded her for that and let the girl continue, but there’s just no coming back from that.

“Babe, I’m sure you can work on your cartwheels a little bit better. If I’m still here by next year, just call me out and I’ll for sure get you in the team. But for now, you can practice, okay? You can even call me for guidance, okay?” You say softly at Sofia, after her performance. She just nods eagerly, but you can tell she was about to cry.

You really want to go up there and hug her, but you can’t because you’d have to do that with every single one you reject.

This is why you hate auditions.

You were still arranging the papers at your table, anticipating the next person when you heard Minnie curse.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” 

You whip your head up, seeing Julie walk up on the stage.

As soon as she stood in front, you knew she had knowledge in cheerleading. Her stance says it all.

She started the performance, and even if you want her to be bad, she isn’t. She’s really good, and it annoys you so much. God, why does she have to be good?

The routine she did wasn’t easy either, and she nailed it to the ground. Some of your team was actually impressed, and you can’t lie and say you weren’t. That back handspring was perfect, to say the least.

“You guys know that we judge not only with skills, but with personality and attitude as well, right?” Minnie just sounded eerily like a mean girl, saying it to your team but also loud enough for Julie to hear. 

You silently nudged her, earning a whine from Minnie but you looked at Julie instead, giving her a smile.

You don’t know what to say, to be honest. Your cheerleading captain side of you, says that this girl is perfect for the team. But the y/n part of you wants nothing to do with her. 

You roam your eyes across the bleachers and like a magnet, your eyes swiftly went to him. Surprisingly, he’s also looking at you. Or at your direction, at least. 

His elbows are in his knees, his entire upper body leaning his height on his elbows. He looks to be anticipating your answer, because at the end of the day, what you say goes.

You took one final breath before tapping your pen. You look up at Julie, and finally, giving her a wide smile.

“Welcome to the team.”

A mix of cheers, clapping and a curse from Minnie fills your ears. You look up, back at Renjun, seeing him smiling and clapping his hands as well. You look down, ignoring the ache you’ve got going on in your chest.

You hope you won’t regret this decision. You really hope so. 

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

“That’s fucked up, you know. That’s really fucked up,” Jaemin won’t stop bitching up until they got home to their apartment, and Renjun just wants him to stop.

In his head, there’s nothing wrong with what he did. He tried to help a friend, to get a spot she fully deserved. He just did a favor, but it seems to Jaemin that it means he’s a horrible person.

“She passed the audition, Jaem. I didn’t do anything,” Renjun says, stirring his iced americano in hand.

“Yeah but d’you really need to talk to Birdie about it? Like dude, everybody in this world knows that she’s head over heels for you. Then you get in her face talking trying to get some other chic on her team? That’s messed up!” 

“She’s the captain of the cheerleading squad! Who else am I supposed to talk to?” Renjun can’t see where he ‘messed up’. 

Sure, he did have a hint that you were affected with his whole situation about Julie, especially when he saw you at the elevator that night. You looked genuinely hurt, but there’s nothing he could do about it.

He told you many times that he wasn’t interested. He doesn’t know what else to do. He can’t just stop seeing other people because of you.

“Man, I say she deserves it.” Haechan joins in the conversation, taking a sip from Renjun’s drink.

Jaemin gives him a disgusted look, “You’re such a hater, Lee Haechan.”

“She deserved to be treated the way Renjun does, especially when she did those things before, right, Renjunnie?” Haechan scoots up into Renjun’s side, leaning his head onto the boy’s shoulder. 

“Come on, that was years ago! You can see she clearly regrets it by now,” Jaemin continued to be at your defense, confusing Renjun as to why because he has never seen you two around each other. Jaemin doesn’t know you like he knows you.

“Do you wanna be with her, Jaem?” Jeno joins in and smirks at Jaemin.

“No! Of course not! I won’t do Renjunnie like that!” Jaemin quickly on the defensive state. 

“I’m literally right here?” He states, reminding his friends of his presence because they seem to talk about him like he wasn’t in the room.

“What I’m saying is, can’t you just put all those things behind you now? I just feel bad for the girl,” 

In Renjun’s head, Jaemin makes a lot of sense. And yeah, Renjun really did tried to forget all of the things that happened in the past. 

He tried to leave it all behind and just completely start fresh. Because really, he’s got way better life now. He basically could have the world now if he wanted to. 

Wouldn’t it be better if he left all his baggage behind?

Unfortunately, all those are all easier said than done. Considering that everytime he looks at you, he’s just reminded of the fact that you made his life miserable for your own gain.

He relates your smiles to all the tears he had way back when he needed you the most.

For everyone else, you were an angel in disguise. To him, you were the devil he once loved.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

A few years back

Ever since you were ten, you’ve dreamed of being a cheerleader. 

The entire saga of Bring It On was your lifeline as a kid, and every part of that movie is engraved in your mind. Every dialogue, every routine and every single pose in that movie is burned in your brain. 

Ever since then, you knew you’d be a cheerleader.

Whatever it takes.

It was summer, you remember it vividly, sophomore year when you met Renjun. 

Your first meeting didn’t go well, though. You still laugh when you think about it.

It was the first day Renjun moved to your school. The teachers announced a Chinese boy joining the class, and you were excited. 

Then here goes a pale and soft looking boy walking into class, with a pair of glasses and a bag that looks heavier than him. You were dumb, of course, assuming that Renjun would only speak strictly Chinese. 

So you pulled your phone out, and tried searching Chinese words to impress the boy.

You finally chose one and practiced it over and over, and when you decided you were comfortable enough, you approached him.

“See-sow-jian zai na-lee?” 

You tried your best to not sound like an asshole, but you really wanted to strike a conversation with him. He looks at you oddly, blinks a couple of times before he breaks into laughter.

“You’re asking me… where’s the bathroom?” 

You were shocked to hear him speak your language fluently. You furrow your brows before smiling at him, as he keeps on laughing. You found it somewhat cute.

And ever since then, you became friends with Renjun.

He was timid, shy and overall an introvert but you liked that about him. You like that he’s not some cringy highschool boy trying to impress you or other girls. He’s just unapologetically him.

“Wait, what homework!?” You panicked as you try to backtrack your classes from yesterday, remembering if you did in fact had homework that you missed out on.

“Geometry, stupid. Here, copy some of mine,” Renjun pulls his notes out, allowing you to completely copy off of him.

You thanked him furiously as you tried to tweak some of the details off his homework, but ended up copying it as it is. Renjun didn’t complain, he finds you cute when you cram.

The class ended and both of you got a perfect score on your homework, and you got Renjun to thank for that. 

So the following morning, you begged your mother for a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie, and packed it carefully with a ribbon on top. This was the only thing you could think of giving him, as a thank you.

“D’you like choco-chip cookie?” You ask, as if you’re just asking a random question. You see him furrowing his brows at your sudden question, but smiles otherwise.

“Yes. I love home baked ones,” He answers, still smiling at you.

You take that chance to grab the pink container on  your bag and give it to him. “Mom baked those,” 

He was speechless at first, looking at the cookies, before looking back at you with the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen. “Wow. Thank you, y/n. This is like… the first time I’ve received a gift like this.” 

“Well, buckle up dude. There will be a lot coming from now on.”

You and Renjun became inseparable after that day. Having Renjun by your side swiftly became a norm for you, to a point you’re comfortable in saying that Renjun’s your person. It kind of feels that he was always meant to be with you, and you’re meant to be with him.

You never really found the need to find more friends than him, he just filled that need himself. 

The first bump in your friendship happened three months after that day.

Renjun quickly became the talk of the school, and the longer he settled in, students started to notice just how good looking he actually is. He barely wears his glasses now, and he styled his hair differently. But Renjun never seems to realize the attention he was getting from  it.

You never thought it would affect the friendship you had, when you yourself have been making efforts to make friends other than him. However, your sole reason was to just be familiar with the school, because you’re planning to audition for cheerleading this semester. Renjun was still at the top of your priority, you still think of him as your best friend. 

You were waiting at the library for him, this has been your daily routine since you’ve been friends. At first, you thought you were just early, or maybe there has been a change with his schedule so you just thought he’d be late.

But the library alerting you that they’ll close in five minutes snaps you from that thought. 

You got hurt, yes, but not too much where you had to ask him to apologize. Naturally, you just gave him the benefit of a doubt and think that he just maybe forgot. He did apologize the morning after, and you just kind of forgave him after that. 

However, when it happened for the second time, that’s when you question if he really just forgot or he just never really wanted to hang out with you anymore. 

It sucks, sure, and you wish you didn’t attach yourself to him as much as you did, but you were never a confrontational person so again, you just let it happen. This time, you don’t make an effort in hanging out with him, and actually try to avoid him. 

On the evil part of your brain, you thought that maybe, you were just a stepping stone for him to climb up the status quo, and now that he was popular, he doesn’t find any real use to be your friend anymore. 

You hate to think about that, because the guilt of even thinking bad about someone as nice as Renjun eats you up inside. 

You focused on your own, starting to work on your goals solely and completely stopped hanging out with him. It seems like he has found a new friend circle, and you assumed that’s just how it ends. 

You sat by yourself in the cafeteria, planning to just ditch lunch for today. You look like a complete loser, and you don’t want to spend more time wallowing in your sorrows alone. Before you could stand up and leave, you saw Renjun walking in, with his friends. 

He was drastically different than the first time you saw him, and it feels like he’s not the same person. But when he laughs at something his friend says, his smile stays the same, reminding you that he’s still somewhat your Renjun. 

You sigh and look away, and on your second attempt at leaving the area, somebody sat across from you.

“Y/n?” He asks, with his brows lifted as if genuinely curious.

“Yeah?” You kind of recognize him, but nothing really pops up in your head.

“Hi, I’m Kim Sunwoo. I’m part of the Cheerleading squad and our captain told me to speak to you.” 

You froze on the spot. That’s where you remember him from! 

You’ve been watching the cheerleaders at the sidelines recently, in hopes to get hints and further knowledge about the team. You were fascinated, of course, because you feel like you’ve always belonged in that team. 

You loved watching them, it’s almost like you’re almost living the life you’ve dreamed of. It feels like you’re on your own Bring It On movie.

Especially when you watch Uchinaga Eri, more known as Giselle, the flyer and the cheer captain. 

She’s really great at what she does, and it motivates you to work even more harder to finally be on the same team as her.

“Y/N, right?” Giselle is now standing in front of you, looking at you like she was judging your form. You felt nervous, of course. 

“Y-yeah.” 

“You sent that audition tape?” She asks again, now looking at you from head to toe. 

“Yes,” You say, although nervous, you managed to stand still. She reminds you of a mean girl, but that’s not always a bad thing. She just reeks of confidence, and you aspire to be that someday.

She smirks, looking back at her co-cheerleaders, and walked backwards, giving you space.

“Okay, then, y/n—” She clears her throat.

“—Front handspring, step out, back handspring, round off back handspring, step out, full twisting layout.”

Your eyes widen at her order, heart stumping off your chest. You’re wearing denim jeans! What the hell were you thinking!

You take a deep breath, before pulling your bag over your shoulder.

This is the moment that could potentially write your future, y/n.

You shake your hands, letting your body loose before walking back to gain your momentum. That routine is a lot, and you’re gonna need a lot of space.

Happy thoughts, happy thoughts. You’ve practiced this before. You’re just gonna have to put them all together! It’s easy!

Deep breaths.

Okay.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

You walk out of the stadium overjoyed, gripping the plastic that was given to you— containing your own cheer uniform. You let yourself shriek quietly in excitement. 

You made it to the team. Torrence Shipman would be proud.

Over your small celebration by yourself, you hear somebody call for your name.

“Y/n.” 

You whip your head over to where it came from, standing there with a bouquet of tulips in his hand, is a face you’ve missed dearly.

“Renjun,” you softly say, not registering that he’s now walking up to you.

He hands you the flowers, and you accept them despite your state of confusion as to why he’s approaching you now. Yellow tulips.

“Do— uhm, do you need something?” You feel that darn butterflies fluttering in your stomach again, as he stands before you.

“No, no. Uhm, I don’t— ah, shit. Okay,” He inhales, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry if I haven’t hung out with you recently and If you ever felt that I abandoned you, I’m sorry. I was just really scared—“

“I got in,” you say to him, smiling ear to ear.

“—because I was a cow– what?” 

“I got in the cheerleading team!” You yell excitedly, opening your arms to hug him tight. You didn’t care, you’re just so happy right now. What made it better is him, being here.

It takes him a full second to hug you back, burying his face on your neck. “I’m so proud of you.”

And with that, you felt like you won twice today.  

You got a spot on the squad, and you got your Renjun back.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Today

It has been a few weeks after the auditions, and it’s safe to say that you’re not feeling well.

Back-to-back exams, training the new members of the squad and working on side projects for school credit has been killing you these days.

Being a Cheer captain is a heavy weight to carry. You need to succeed in both cheerleading and academics, and the responsibilities sometimes get overwhelming. You never once complained tho, because you wanted this. You needed this. 

Cheer is the only thing that made your life make sense. And well.. Renjun too, of course. So there will be times like this. But you’ll endure it, as you should.

Not to mention the emotional torture of having to see Renjun and Julie all the time, thanks to Julie inviting him over everytime she’s got a chance.

Just like tonight. You were exhausted from all the school activities and you just want the comfort of your bed. So when you finally enter your apartment, to your dismay, you see Haechan, Jaemin, Renjun and Julie snuggled up in the couch of your apartment, watching some movie you didn’t care to look.

Your body is sore, and so is your brain. If you have a choice, you’d take a vacation to anywhere else than your apartment right now. 

And although you already accepted the fact that Renjun and Julie has got something going on between them, it’s still a stab in your chest everytime you see them together.

“Hey, uh, Birdie, I invited them over for a movie night.. I just thought you’d be over at Minnie’s. I’m sure you don’t mind, right?” 

You smile at them. “Oh, no. Enjoy your movie. I’m a bit tired so.. I’ll just head in.” You say, not exactly welcoming as you want to be, but you just can’t be energetic as you usually are tonight. 

You see Jaemin waving at you, Haechan not acknowledging your presence as always, and Renjun sparing you half a second glance before focusing back on the movie.

You head straight to the kitchen, hoping to see anything that could fill your stomach. You just need to eat and then pass out for the night. You can’t find time to mend your broken heart, when your entire body feels like convulsing the next minute.

“It’s been two weeks since the last brownie. Finally got tired, huh?”

You look back at whoever’s speaking, and to your unpleasant surprise, it’s just Haechan walking over the kitchen.

“I just got busy, Haechan.” You say, managing to smile at him.

“You and your damn cheerful attitude. Still gonna pretend like you’re the perfect little birdie?” Even tho his voice was quiet, his tone still pierced through you. 

“I’m not quite sure how I should respond to that,” 

“Of course you don’t. You’re always nice. Whoever that bitch that fucked my friend over years ago is long gone, right?” His smirk splattered all over his face makes your eye twitch.

God, you know hate is a strong word to describe an emotion. You’re not one to hate on anybody. But you give yourself a pass, because you just maybe hate Lee Haechan right now.

“Haechan, please. I just want to rest.” You say, closing your eyes frustratedly. 

“Sure. And just so you know, he’s very happy with Julie right now. She treats him better than you— fuck it, she cheers better than you too.” 

He just had to hit you where it hurts the most, doesn’t he?

You wanted to curse at him, real bad. You wanted to yell, scream at him for pete’s sake. Your chest is heaving with animosity, to the point where you want to cry. But you kept your composure, at least until you weren’t in the safety of your own room.

“I understand Renjun is your friend, and you want to protect him. And I also do understand that you don’t know everything that went down between me and him so I’ll just try and ignore everything you say to me. Now, if you excuse me, I’m going to bed.” 

You left Haechan in the kitchen, the growling of your stomach long forgotten. You don’t think you could still have an appetite after that. 

The hunger you feel was overpowered by the tears you want to let out.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

You’re awoken by pounding in your head, nose stuffed and difficulty breathing. You were convulsing. You had a hunch that you’re having a fever before you even went to bed— but chose to ignore it and just sleep on it.

Which you know to be a bad decision now that you’re drowning in your own sweat and tears.

You needed something. Advil— whatever the fuck is available to you. You need to get up.

Dragging your feet and standing up from your bed, you immediately feel like you’re going to faint. This might be the worst fever you’ve gotten so far.

You get your phone to call Minnie, she’s only in the next building. You see that it’s not even 3 hours when you went to bed. There’s clattering sounds outside your room and you’re sure they’re still out there.

Minnie didn’t pick up, meaning you’d have to fend for yourself.

You close your eyes in frustration, even your eyelids burns. 

Shit, you have practice tomorrow.

You grab your oversized hoodie and ultimately decided to just go out in the kitchen, and find the medicine kit. There’s one out there, you knew it for sure because you were the one who put it there.

You really don’t want to look like a sick girl out there, so you just buried yourself with the hoodie. 

You make your way to the kitchen, and to some poop luck, they’re all there in the counter enjoying two pizza boxes. You practically salivate over the sight, but there’s no way you’d ask for some.

They all turn their heads at you, each having an expression you can’t read. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Jaemin’s the only one who sounded concerned. You shake your head and smiled at him.

“I’m good. Just—” cough. “–need to get something.” 

You see Renjun looking over at you with his brows furrowed, following your figure as you move around the counter. The medicine cabinet is exactly where he was standing, so you just muttered a weak ‘excuse me’.

“You don’t look good.” He says as soon as you stand next to him. You didn’t respond, but you just rummaged through the cabinet just to find anything. 

You were stunned when you felt his hands over at yours, looking up at him with your confused eyes.

“You’re fucking burning up, y/n.” 

He pulls your hood down, and then proceeds to put the backside of his hand on your forehead, checking your temperature. You were baffled, at his sudden concern but you don’t dwell on it, you physically think of anything but the raging headache you’re suffering from.

You gently swat his hands away, “I’m really okay… I just– Julie, where’s the Tylenol?” 

She looks at you, as if you were interrupting something.  “Don’t you keep them in your room? You didn’t have to come out,” 

You shake your head and you almost respond, before Renjun cuts you off.

“You should lay down, I’ll call someone,” He says strictly.

“What? Dude, she says she’s fine. She’ll live!” Haechan interjects, but Jaemin hits him on his shoulder.

“She’s literally dying, Haechan. Are you fucking blind?” Jaemin.

Haechan rolls his eyes, whispering something about ‘attention’ and Julie looking at him with a smirk.

You didn’t have the energy to be offended or anything, and you’re almost sure the world’s spinning. 

Before you know it, you heard Renjun curse and that’s when your vision turns absolutely pitch black.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

“Probably just over fatigue, just a little bit of rest and she should be okay.” 

Renjun rubs his temple as he sighed a thank you to Nurse Suh through the phone. 

“I told you, she’s just really over dramatic sometimes,” Julie says, in a comforting way, massaging Renjun’s shoulder. He was sitting in a single chair beside the couch, where you were laying on.

He bit his lip, looking over at your figure sleeping soundly. He doesn’t even know why he’s still here, Jaemin and Haechan already left half an hour ago. 

“Why’re you even so worried, Renjunnie?” Julie chuckles.

“She literally fainted in front of us. Why aren’t you worried? You’re her roommate,” 

Julie looks to the side, straightening up. “Yeah, but we were never close,” Renjun frowned at her response, but still shrugged it off.

Honestly speaking, Renjun really did kind of snapped the moment you fainted. He was scared to death, he knew you weren’t feeling good the moment you entered the kitchen. And when you passed out, he felt the air snatched from his lungs.

He panicked, he admits. And he hates it so much, the way he acted. He wasn’t supposed to care. But what can he do when you literally faint in front of him? Every decent human being would do what he did. 

Except maybe the part where he woke up a school nurse in the middle of the night in panic and sat beside you for three hours trying to monitor your temperature waiting for you to wake up.

When your temperature finally seemed to had gone down, that’s when he decided to go home. And on the walk back to his car, he silently drove back to his apartment, simmering on his own thoughts, disappointed in himself.

“I hate her so much.” He says to himself, more so convincing himself. Even his body seemed to detect his lies, every word burns in his tongue. 

Among the texts you sent him, he finally texts you first.

[12:37 am] renjun: take a break.

Why can’t he just.. let you be? Why do you affect him this much? Still, after all this time?

He blames you. He blames your consistency. He blames your overconfidence, every time you look at him. He blames you for smiling at him every chance you get. He blames those stupid fucking cookies you give him everyday. He blames your entire personality, making him melt in a puddle every single time. And more importantly, he blames you for acting like you’ve never done anything wrong.

You make him feel like everything that happened in the past was a mere imagination. Like the pain he felt was a pigment of his own mind. Because no normal person would act the way you do if they’re aware of the damage they did to another person.

However, what kills him the most is the way he still wants to hold your stupid hand and kiss you in your stupid lips. He would never admit it, even to the devil himself, that after all that’s said and done, he’d still adore you with your hands around his neck.

“I told her to take a fucking break. What in the hell is she doing?!” He muttered to himself when he saw you doing stretches on the matted floor of the gymnasium. He had gone down there in disguise of visiting Julie, but in reality, he just wanted to check if your stubborn self didn’t listen to him. 

“Chill out.” He hears Haechan on his side. Haechan tagged along with him, as always, under the excuse of wanting to see Jeno practice. Who’s he kidding? He’s here to check out the cheerleaders. 

Jaemin was on his side too, having no classes to attend and not much better to do, he just went along.

“You’re so sweet, that’s for me?” Julie’s high pitched voice slashed through his ears, and that’s the only reason he even saw her in the first place. He caught himself staring at you and he immediately brought all his attention to Julie.

“Uh, yeah.” He lied, giving Julie the gatorade that was supposed to be for you, but he felt stupid giving it out to you. It’s embarrassing.

He watched at the sidelines, along with his two friends. His eyes were laser focused on you, and when you suddenly slipped during one of your stunts, his whole body flinched like a reflex.

“At least try to not be so obvious, Injunnie.” Jaemin laughed beside him.

“Shut up, dude. I just had a few extra cups of coffee today.” Even he, himself, cringed at his stupid excuse.

“I thought we hate her, dude? Come on, stand the fuck up! She’s playing you dude. I hate girls like that, acting all perfect and cheery when she literally fucked you over before.” Haechan complained, following it with a huff on his side.

“I still don’t like her, at all, okay? I’m here for Julie, and no one else.”

“Sure, Injunnie.” Jaemin folds his arms on his chest, a playful smirk playing on his lips.

“Say it with me, Injun. We hate Birdie!” Haechan says with two clenched fists moving simultaneously up and down.

“You know what, Haechan, with the way you’re bitching all the time, why don’t you wear the cheer uniform and pompoms?” Jaemin snickers, earning a hit from Haechan.

“Fuck you,” Haechan spits.

“Sorry, honey, but I don’t swing that way. And even if I do, you wouldn’t even reach the list.” Jaemin and Haechan continued to bicker, with Renjun in between. 

He’s still deep in his own thoughts, remembering that he shouldn’t even look at you right now. He has Julie, and that’s what he should be focusing on. Not you.

But when he invited Julie back to his place, and he found your lingering eyes amidst the crowd, with a hint of pain splattered on your pretty face, he almost wanted to push Julie off of him and run to you.

And at that moment, he curses at himself. 

He cares.

He still cares.

He will always care.

And that’s his fucking problem.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

“The game’s in two weeks, and you all should’ve nailed the routine by now. What is going on here?” 

Coach Evie goes on rampage with the squad, most of the blame pointed at you.

“Y/n, I will only say this once. You’ve been chosen as the captain of this squad for a reason. Don’t make me doubt you.” 

This was the first time you felt upset. Not because of the rage that was poured onto you, but because you knew Coach Evie was right. You have not been giving your all these past few days. 

There’s something wrong with you. Emotionally and physically.

Ever since the incident that happened last practice, you find it hard to do all the routines because of your left knee. You didn’t want to think about it, hoping it would just go away. 

It never did.

Emotionally, you felt horrible as well. Renjun was still with Julie, and from what you can see, they look like they’ll be together for a while. It hurts, yes, but there’s not much you can do about it. It’s never your forte to force yourself onto a man that’s spoken for. 

So you decided to take a break. Maybe a few days without practice will do you and the squad good. You focused on your studies, your classes and other stuff. 

That’s why you found yourself in the middle of a random basketball player’s party Thursday night. You came with Minnie, and in typical Minnie fashion, she disappeared with a random stranger within twenty minutes into the party.

This wasn’t what’s on your mind at all when you say that you needed a break. But Minnie was persistent, saying everybody has been waiting for you to finally show up with one of these parties. Because again, this wasn’t your scene at all.

She basically guilt tripped you into attending. 

“Oh, no, I don’t like alcohol.” You politely refused, for the nth time this night. Even though some were absolutely drunk and stubborn to accept rejection, you still politely responded to every single one of them.

“Shit, Birdie’s here!” You hear someone yell, and it turns out it was Sungchan, standing tall on the other side of the room pointing at where you were. 

A small commotion breaks out, some even gasps at seeing you. You didn’t expect it to be this big of a deal, you didn’t know these people at all.

After Sungchan’s announcement of your attendance, people started swarming you. You didn’t want to say it because it sounds so cringe in your head, but you were as if a celebrity attended a random student’s party. It was odd.

“Hi Bird,” You flinched a bit when somebody suddenly pressed on your side, a strong smell of weed filling up your nostrils. 

“Uh, hello.” You smile a little, taking a step away from the stranger. He smirks at you, biting his lip as he looks you up and down.

You press your cup of orange juice in your mouth as you look back at him.

“Fancy seeing you here,” 

You furrow your eyes trying to remember him. You don’t want to be rude and disrespectful so you did try your best but you just can’t remember.

“I’m Eric, y’know.. basketball team?” He says to spark familiarity in your head and it sure did. That’s where you knew him from!

“Yeah! Yeah that’s right!” You sounded so proud of remembering him now that you‘re sure you looked stupid.

He laughs– a bit too much actually before stepping again in your space. You didn’t know what to do, because you don’t want to confront him causing unnecessary drama. There’s too many people in here and the last thing you want to do is to bring attention to yourself. 

You silently prayed that Minnie finishes up quickly. You don’t know how to handle this kind of stuff.

“Wanna go somewhere quiet? Some privacy—”

“Really, dude?” 

You prayed up above, but the devil spawned from down below. It was Haechan who showed up.

Eric rolled his eyes and looked at Haechan, muttering ‘whatever’ before leaving. 

You finally take a breather, and close your eyes in relief. Even tho you think Haechan is a pain in your butt, his interference just saved you. You have to be grateful with that.

“Thanks.” You say sincerely.

“I didn’t do anything. What, you got tired of chasing Renjun’s tail and now you’re trying other options?” And there he goes again. As soon as you give him the benefit of a doubt, he goes right back in with his horrible remarks.

“I’m tired of this,” You say, wearing down your guard and putting your drink down on the counter.

“Finally! What a fucking relief. We also got tired of your pathetic ass running around my friend—“

“What did Renjun tell you to hate me like this, Haechan?” 

He falls silent. Suddenly not knowing what to say, completely perplexed at your sudden change of tone.

“You don’t know what happened, Haechan. And all this time I’m trying to understand all your hatred towards me because I know you’ve been told one side of the story. And I know I was in the wrong—”

“Y/n.” 

Your words hang in the air, swiftly looking over your shoulder seeing Renjun standing with his arms crossed along his chest, leaning his body on the counter.

Cheeks flushed, eyes droopy. He’s intoxicated.

“Renjun,” you whisper upon looking at him.

“Haechan, please leave.” Renjun slurred a bit in his words, but strict enough for Haechan to take it seriously.

“But she—“

“Leave.” 

Haechan huffs, giving you one last glare before walking away.

You wipe away any tear that might’ve escaped your eyes, before gaining back your composure. You stand there before Renjun, not knowing what to say next. Should you leave? Should you stay? 

“Your oven broke or something?” 

His question caught you off guard. That’s definitely not what you’re expecting him to say. You’re confused, really, really confused.

“What?” You say almost breathless. 

He smirks, letting his head fall backwards, eyes closed as he whispers something to himself, one you can’t quite understand.

“It’s been weeks, no cookies, no brownies or any bullshit you used to give me. What, you give up now, Birdie?” 

The way your nickname falls off his lips so smoothly makes your heart thump in excitement. This is the first time he acknowledged you by the way everybody calls you. It sparked a light in your chest that maybe, just maybe, this is a step.

“N-no, I-I’m just.. respecting your relationship with my roommate.” You don’t even know why you had to mention it. You could’ve just lied and told him you were busy, but the atmosphere of being in a party fed your courage to be reckless.

“Relation— bullshit. Me and Julie aren’t together, at least yet.”

 There he goes. He brings you up just to tear you down. It’s an endless roller coaster with him, but he would always be a ride you won’t ever regret. 

“I thought you don’t like them,” 

“I don’t. I like the fact that you’re trying so hard.” 

“I don’t understand Renjun. What are you— do you want me to keep running after you?” You state, extremely nervous about what he’d say next. Every breath you take was calculated, every second mattered.

You don’t even know why you’re having this conversation with him when he’s clearly drunk. However, there could be no other opportunity for him to give you attention other than this. 

“I don’t want you to do anything. I don’t want you, period. It’s just… why the fuck do you give up on me so easily?” His disencourage tone was evident, a slight hoarse in his throat made it obvious. He’s drunk. He doesn’t mean it.

“You’re with Jul—“

“I’m not— fuck!” He sounds like he’s running out of patience, gripping the edge of the counter as if to hold himself back.

“I’m asking you one more time, Renjun. Do you want me to keep trying? Do you want me to keep chasing you?” 

This time, he looks at you with an intense gaze, saying the words that won’t come out of his lips, with a hint of resentment and despair. You know him too well.

You bite your lip as you try to hold back the tears threatening to escape again. “Because I will, Renjun. Just tell me the words.” 

If anyone could hear you right now, they’d be horrified at how desperate you sound. You, the cheerleading captain, down so bad for a man to the point of begging to let you chase him desperately. You’re so ridiculous that it’s not even funny anymore.

Not that you would care. When it comes to Renjun, you’d do worse.

“Go home.” He spat, turning around just before your eyes started letting go of the tears you’ve been dangerously holding on to.

A dagger through the heart, but you are to blame. You're willing the blade through your own heart.

And you won’t have it any other way.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Ever since that party, you’ve discovered new courage— much like before.

You went back to baking sweets for Renjun, approaching him any chance you get, and smiling at him at all times. It’s like you were motivated to do things for him again. 

Despite the glares Julie consistently gives you, you can’t find it in you to care. Renjun said it himself, they’re not together yet. He was practically saying you’re welcome to do anything you’d like.

Well maybe you assumed that but tomato, tomáto.

“Oh, hi Birdie. Long time no see, huh?” Jaemin’s smile was the first to greet you as you knocked in their hangout place.

“Hi, Jaemin. Renjun there?” 

“No, but I’d gladly take that cookie off your hands and give it to him.” He nicely takes the box from you.

“Tell him good morning too.” 

Jaemin chuckles and scratches his brow, “Sure thing, sugar.” 

You don’t know what he finds funny, because you were serious. But oh well.

You happily walked back to your department, ready to take on one of your classes. A few waves to some students who greets you, stopping for some who attempt a conversation with you.

You remember what Minnie said, you’re always late because you don’t like ignoring people or saying no to a conversation, it doesn't matter who it is.

But you just really don’t like coming across rude. It feels wrong. 

You were almost at your class when you stumbled upon Renjun walking in the hallway with his earphones on. 

Smiling to yourself, you skip over to his side. All it takes was a soft tap on his shoulder before he takes off his earphones and turns around to look at whoever grabbed his attention.

“Hi, Renjun.” With the sweetest smile you have to offer. 

“You need something?” You felt really giddy hearing his usual cold tone, his voice making you flutter.

“I brought you cookies up at your hangout place but you weren’t there. Jaeminnie took it so you can just get it from him. And oh, good morning!”  

For a quick second, you see irritation across his eyes. Creasing his brows down at you.

“Since when is he ‘Jaeminnie’?” 

Your smile faded, hinting something new at his demeanor. This is new. His tone was something different and the way he looks at you seemed far from what you’re used to.

Is he… no way. 

“Since he..” You shook your head, “Nevermind. It’s freshly baked too so it would be good if you eat it as soon as possible. I don’t want you skipping breakfast or any meals—”

“Junnie.”

You snap your head back, only seeing Julie approaching you two. You almost scowl at her presence but you decide it’s not very nice to do. So you just kept the smile you had before and waved at Julie.

“I thought we’ll meet at the cafe?” Renjun asks, the change in the way he talks was prominent. 

“I figured we should walk together..” The glance Julie gave you was short lived, obviously trying to question why you’re still here. 

And to be honest, you don’t know too. You look pretty stupid standing in a conversation you don’t belong in.

You were about to walk away, when your name got called.

“Y/n!” You turn to see Sungchan, waving at you with a wide smile spread across his face.

“Hey, Sungchan.” You wave back.

He looks at the three of you, but ultimately keeps his focus on you. He seemed to read the room, and when you thought he’d sweep you away, he stood tall.

“Hey, Renjun, Julie. Uh,” he turns to you, “Mr. Hong canceled the class.” 

“Oh really? Okay.” You nod, thinking where you should go. You turn to Renjun who’s looking at Sungchan, visibly irritated by the boy’s sudden appearance. 

“We should go, Injunnie. The cafe could be crowded by the time we get there.” Julie clings onto his side, tugging him slightly. 

“Dream cafe? I heard they’re giving out free croissants! Y/n, we should go with them!” Sungchan, way too enthusiastic as he put his arms around you. You flinch a bit, thinking about Renjun seeing it. 

But when you see him and Julie, you opted to just let it be.

“I don’t—“

“Let’s go!” Sungchan pulls you with him, and you hesitantly walk with him. Renjun lets out a scoff, looking to the side before following. 

“What are you doing?!” You whisper at Sungchan.

“I’m helping you, silly.” He answers quietly, and you wanted to ask for an explanation on how this is helping you, but you were greeted by a student walking by.

“What’s your order?” A lovely barista greeted Julie.

“Spanish Latte for me, Injunnie?” Iced Jasmine Tea. You silently whisper to yourself.

“Iced Jasmine Tea.” You smirk to your triumph. Little wins matter! 

“Psh, simp.” You heard Sungchan on your side, you immediately elbowed him on his side. How the heck did he hear you?

“Shut up.” You growl at him, but quickly smile as you look ahead.

“How about our pastries?” You look to the side and there’s deliciously looking treats displayed. You would order one yourself, but you’d already eaten your own baked cookies.

“Cheesecake for me and.. you, Injunnie?” You note the additional pitch Julie adds in her voice whenever she talks to Renjun. She sounds cute. 

“No thanks. I have cookies back at my place.” 

You hitch your breath. Is he.. Is he talking about your cookies? The one you baked for him? Widening your eyes, you look at him in disbelief. Did he just acknowledge your cookies? Oh my god!

“Hi Birdie!” Your trance was cut-off by the barista’s enthusiastic approach, even waving excitedly at you.

“Jesus christ, Even outside the campus people know you?!” Sungchan asks in astonishment. 

“Of course! I love her, she’s like one of the reasons I’m trying out cheerleading next year. That routine you did last summer was so perfect!” The barista gushed on and on, making your cheeks red. 

“I’ll have Iced Americano and she’ll have..” Sungchan looked back at you.

“Caramel Macchiato, please.” You say sweetly, and the barista happily put your order in. You were about to pay cash, but before you could even bring out your wallet, a ping on the cashier.

You look back and see Sungchan smiling like an idiot after tapping his phone. 

“I got that.” You complain.

“I got it first tho.” Sungchan smirked. You open your mouth to retort back, however, Renjun starts walking away— probably to one of the tables. You quickly follow pursuit.

“Hmm, so big game next week, huh?” Julie was the first to initiate the conversation.

“Oh, yeah. Uh, heard you guys are performing at the game?” Sungchan looked at you.

“Ye–”

“Of course. We’re already almost finished with the routine. Just kind of sucks that we had to take a break for no reason.” Julie says in the most oblivious way, as if she just said something casual.

You blink thrice, processing her words. Didn’t you need to take a break because she didn’t do her job causing you to have knee problems? 

 “I’m sorry about that,I just really needed to let my knee relax. But I'm alright now.” You still smiled and took a sip off your coffee. 

“You hurt your knee?” Renjun’s sudden concern made the three of you look at him, but he didn’t even flinch. He’s still waiting for your response.

“Yeah uh, it’s just the usual… not that big of a deal.” You say, words stumbling upon your throat. You’re not used to him being like this. 

“Didn’t I tell you to take a break?” 

“I did…that’s why the practice got held back afew. But I’m fine now!” Your tone was cheerful, hopefully to convince him that you’re really doing okay now. You don’t know where this sudden concern about your well being came from but you’re not complaining either.

However, If looks could kill, Julie might’ve committed murder by now. 

“She’s doing fine now… she’s Birdie, after all.” The sarcasm laced in her words are strong.

The tension was too much to handle, so you excused yourself. 

As soon as you were in the bathroom, you let out a deep breath. You really don’t know how to handle confrontation. When someone’s being obviously rude towards you, you just fold. 

There’s something really wrong with you. You can’t seem to be comfortable with defending yourself, or just straight up calling out people for their rude behavior. You’d rather just sit there and take it. You can’t even curse, for christ sake!

“Y/n.” You look at the mirror, only to see Julie entering the bathroom as well.

She looks upset. Like really, really upset.

“Hey Jul—”

“You know that me and Renjun are a thing, right?” You stop whatever you’re doing, and turn around to really face her. Did she have to lie straight to your face?

“According to him though, there’s nothing going on between you two.” 

“Come on, you’re supposed to be smart. There’s clearly something there.” She rolls her eyes.

“And unless you and him say it verbatim, there’s nothing wrong here.” You shrug your shoulders.

“Are you hearing yourself? You sound ridiculous. What’s not clicking, y/n? Renjun hates you. He finds you annoying. He probably thinks you’re a desperate bi—”

“Julie, get the fuck out of my face. I’m not gonna say it twice,” 

She let out a small gasp. You were shocked as well. You can’t believe that just came out of your mouth. You inhale and close your eyes, exhaling when you look at her.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. But if you could just… just leave, please.” 

“You’re gonna regret this, Birdie.” You can see that she meant the threat, and you can’t help but to feel anxious. You were about to question it but she walked out before you could do so.

When you go back to the table, Renjun and Julie are long gone. Apparently, Julie went on about feeling sick, and Renjun had to go with her. 

“I really don’t get it, y/n. You really like that man? He’s clearly interested in Julie. And not to mention, he treats you like shit.” Sungchan was perplexed, to say the least.

You just gave him an apologetic smile and continued sipping your coffee. You’re tired of convincing people on why you’re into him. 

They don’t need to understand. As long as it makes sense to you and Renjun, that’s enough.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Game night.

NCU vs SHU. Two universities that've been butting heads all year. Jeno leads the NCU neocats, whilst Dino leads the SCU ravens. You’re all in for NCU, of course. 

The gymnasium was packed. The first game was on your campus, opening its gates for both universities for tonight’s game. 

It’s always exciting, the marching band started playing, indicating that the game is about to start. 

“Alright, guys! Warm up!” Coach Evie calls. You quickly sit on the grass, stretching your legs, reaching it with your fingertips.

Everybody else was stretching as well. But you can’t help but feel the daggers that've been throwing at you ever since practice. 

Julie has been glaring at you. And you can’t help but feel anxious. You pull Minnie to the side.

“Switch main base with me?” You ask nicely.

“That would ruin the routine, Birdie. Why would you want to switch anyways?” She questions, kind of confused at your sudden request.

“I don’t feel secure with some of my support. It’s only for the toss, Minnie.” You didn’t want to say Julie’s name, careful not to single her out. But you also feel bad pertaining to all your main bases when they didn’t do anything at all.

“Oh, is it that bitch Julie? What happened? You want me to beat the lights out of her? Because I will—”

“You know what, nevermind. I hate that you resort to violence for anything, Minnie. That’s not very nice.”  

Maybe you’re just paranoid. Julie won’t intentionally ruin your routine. She won’t.

Minnie kissed her teeth, putting her hands on her hips. “I know that you know switching main bases last minute is a horrible idea. You’re the captain, for christ sake. So that means one thing. Julie said something that would make you want to switch. I will keep an eye on her, don’t worry. If she tries shit, I will fuck her up, okay? Now go, captain. We’re about to start.” Minnie hugged you tight, stepping away after just to fix your bow. 

You’re really glad you have Minnie. You wouldn’t know what to do without her.

You glance around the bleachers, finding someone that would definitely soothe your overthinking brain. 

And there he was, in the midst of the busy crowd, looking graceful as always as he sat in between Haechan and Jaemin. It’s like seeing him made you calm down. The effect of his presence made you relax. 

And as soon as he connects his sight to yours, he sighs. You thought he’d just look away, but he smiled. Mouthing the words, ‘Goodluck, Birdie’

You felt your chest burst, instantly nodding at him. You didn’t even think about it when you whispered the words you have always wanted to say.

‘I love you’ 

And then he visibly froze. But before he could react, Coach Evie called you.

You didn’t have a choice but to bring your attention back to the squad.

“Birdie, lead the squad. Alright, everybody. Finish the routine safely and perfectly. This is just the beginning. The real competition is the next game, the National Cheerleading Competition executives will be here as judges— they will pick a winner between you and Scarlet Heart. But that doesn’t mean y’all can slack on this one, alright?” Coach Evie really needs to work on her pep talk. 

You sigh, shaking your entire body to loosen up. You were about to go into position when you noticed the entire squad looking at you.

“Whatchu wanna say, captain?” Minnie smiles at you, and you realize they’re waiting for you to say something. 

“Oh, right, uh–” You clear your throat, “Cheer like it's your last?” You were unsure, and so as everybody, but Minnie, being the ever sweetheart that she is, she clapped and cheered. 

As the announcer yelled for the NCU Squad, the familiar feeling rushed through your body. The adrenaline starts to creep in and you get high in the feeling. Everytime you perform, you get the chills that you have always craved. Like this was your calling. Like this has always been what you’re meant to do.

The music started, and you swore you had nothing on your mind. Your body moves on its own and it somehow perfect every single step. It was more of a reflex by this point, every position, every beat tatted in your brain. 

But then there comes the part where you get tossed in the air. And although you memorized everything in the back of your head, this particular moment was extremely dangerous. You get tossed almost nine feet up in the air, and everything goes once it’s executed. So it’s natural to get nervous, however something’s not right.

You don’t have time to figure it out, the crowd already hyping you up. They know the climax of the routine, and that’s when the air lifts are performed. And you’re usually the person who gets thrown– so they know when it’s your turn.

“Birdie, Birdie, Birdie!” 

You take a deep inhale, before starting to climb up on a couple of bases.You glance at the bleachers, finding your courage from one person but he isn’t where he’s at earlier. You didn’t have time to think about it, and on two counts, the bases started to gain momentum. And just right before you get thrown, you look at a pair of eyes that made your blood run cold.

The rage behind Julie’s eyes was evident. You performed the pose in the air, executed it perfectly, but when you’re about to land, everyone went silent.

Julie stepped back from her spot, causing you to land on your injured knee immediately the pain made you lose your balance. 

A sharp, stabbing sensation shot through your leg. A searing pain lanced through your knee, buckling your leg. You hold it in place as you process the entire situation.

Everybody was silent. It felt like a slow motion, most of your squad immediately running to you. You can’t breathe. The initial shock felt like a dagger through the heart. Your jaw slacks, as you look at Julie running away from the field. 

Minnie immediately shook you from your trance, and that’s when you looked at her. The pain has gotten worse when you snap back to reality. You felt your entire cheerleading career crumble in your hands. The tears follow through as you look up at Minnie.

“Minnie, I’m done..” You can’t believe it. “Oh my god, I’m done.” 

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

A few years back

“Huang Renjun, you’re close with him, right?” Giselle asked.

“Yeah..” You hesitantly say. You saw her look back at Ningning, and they both smirked at each other.

“I was just asking.” Giselle shrugged, and even though you were sure that there’s underlying meaning behind her question. 

It has been about three months since you got in the cheerleading squad, and to be honest, it has been underwhelming. Giselle rarely calls for practice, but she’s always in cheer uniform. She also only has very limited rotation between the team, mostly her, Ningning, and Yiren always in the center. 

You? You were always at the back. Which you never complained about, because Giselle is the captain for a reason, what she says, goes. And you’re a newbie, there’s no room for complaints, especially from you. 

“What happened? Why’d she call you?” Renjun’s soft voice instantly turns your mood up. He waited at the parking lot, leaning on his car as he watched you walk towards him. 

As soon as you close the distance he smiles warmly, then proceeds to fix the hair that was all over your face, and tucks into your ear.

“She just asked a question,” You didn’t lie, technically. You just withhold a minor detail.

“Ready for tonight?” He smiles warmly at you. You nod excitingly at him.

Renjun promised to take you out on a ‘friendly’ date tonight. It’s one of his ways to make it up for the time he lost with you. You swear to him that he didn’t need to do all this, but he insisted that you come with this ‘date’ tonight. 

You didn’t want to expect anything, but it’s hard not to when you’re literally head over heels with Renjun. A little assuming won’t hurt, sometimes.

“Are you sure I don’t need to change my clothes?” You pat down your pleated skirt, a bit conscious about your outfit. You were only wearing an oversized knitted sweater– and your everyday sneakers for this ‘date’. 

Renjun is also rocking a casual outfit, but he still looks dashing. It's honestly not fair.

“No, I promise you,  you look good in anything.” 

There’s also a change in how Renjun talks to you. He talks to you with a bit of… flirting? You didn’t want to assume anything, again, but being delusional naturally is registered in your system. 

You didn’t know where Renjun was taking you, but you didn’t care as long as you’re with him. Nothing could make this man look bad in your books. 

When the car stops, your hand moves to the car door, but Renjun held your wrist. 

“Come on, you don’t need to open the door for me.” You chuckle a bit, finding his chivalry cute.

“No, we don’t even need to leave the car.” You furrow your brows at him. As you turn your eyes on the front, you get suddenly blinded by a cinema sized LED screen.

You hitch your breath as the familiar movie starts.

“Bring It On!” You squeal, fascinated and somewhat perplexed as to how Renjun got this drive in cinema play a movie from the 2000s.

You turn to him with, corners of your mouth going up. He smiled back, reached at the backseat— and suddenly, a bouquet of yellow tulips separated your eyes from him. 

You can’t help but blink rapidly, trying to make sense of it all. Is this an actual date? Not a friendly one? Whatever is going on right now, one thing’s for sure, you’re loving every second of it.

The movie started, and it feels like you’re straight out of a novel. However, as you try to relax, your fingers brush against his, and you swear you felt a slight spark. 

At this very moment, the movie is long forgotten. All your undivided attention is on the way your skin feels hot, and your focus is on how to initiate more contact with Renjun.

“Want something to eat?” He asks softly, glancing at you with the sweetest eyes you could ever imagine.

“Not exactly that,” you let out an awkward chuckle and shifted in your seat.

“What’s the problem?” God, he’s so oblivious, you just want to jump his bones right now. You shake your head off with the dirty thoughts.

“Why– why’re we doing this? Why are you doing this, Renjun?” You gather courage to actually address the elephant in the room.

His jaw slacks but he swiftly kept his composure. “I thought you’d want to finish the movie first—”

“I’ve watched that movie 54 times. I could probably cite the next dialogue without thinking. So what is it, Renjunnie?” 

He gulps one time, before he starts fidgeting with his hands. “I love you, y/n. I have loved you for a long time now and I was a coward because I had thought that a loser like me didn’t have the right to want you. So I gained my confidence, tried befriending other people to gain popularit–” Before he could even finish, you threw the bouquet on the back seat of his car and grabbed his collar. Next thing you know is you’re already making out with him on the passenger seat and you did not care about anything else.

You pulled away, breathless, “I love you too, Renjun.” 

You could not take your hands off of each other as soon as you entered his apartment. He shared it with a guy named Donghyuck, but he was out tonight, which you thanked the heavens for.

“Y/n,” He whispers your name every chance he gets, which is not much since your lips are connected at every moment ever since you stepped foot in this apartment.

You didn’t want to rush things with him, but you just felt like this was the right moment. This was the perfect timing. He’s the right person to do this with.

He kissed you hard, but softly at the same time. It was like you were drowning, but you didn’t mind it. 

“Shit,” curses sounded heavenly when it came from his mouth, turning you on even more.

You didn’t even realize you were already in the confinement of his bedroom, until the back of your knees hit the edge of his bed. You let your balance loose, allowing yourself to lay back on the mattress. 

He looked at you in a way that made your spine shiver, your entire body burning with desire. 

“Are you sure about this?” He carefully asks as he lowers himself to tower over you. You look at him with the same passion and nod your head. “I’m always sure about you.” You take his lips once more.

You can tell he was hesitant to touch places you wanted his hands on. So you take the lead, grabbing his nervous hands and placing it on your breast. “Please touch me,” 

His jaw slackens, a new sensation traveling down his body. “I’-I’m sorry, I haven’t done this before.” He stuttered, but you just bit your lip.

“I haven’t either. We’ll be each other’s first,” You smile reassuringly at him, caressing his cheek as he looks at you warily. 

He started to massage your breast, whilst his lips traveled down your neck. You can feel your stomach flutter at the feeling, never expecting such a move would make you go crazy. He then looks at you again, holding the hem of your shirt, almost as if asking permission. You gazed over at him with lust that you knew he got the message.

He lifted it up, and in every skin that gets exposed, he blessed it with his lips. The wetness of it  makes your breath hitch. “Renjun, please.” 

He pulled your sweater up until you’re now only left with your bra. He slowly reaches at your back, which you helped by arching, and with a snap, your bra falls undone. 

The cold breeze around your nipples did not last long because as soon as his eyes fell down, his lips attached to one of the peaks. You shudder, gripping his hair, gently pulling it. You’re a moaning mess.

“Touch me more,” You managed to blurt out. He seemed to understand, with the way his hands traveled down your skirt. Still making out with your exposed breast, paying attention one after another, he started playing with your panties. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet already.” He felt the dampness over the cloth, directing his middle finger on the slit. You gasp in pleasure, flinching every time he explored further. 

“Jun,” You whine when he starts pulling down your skirt, along with your panties. His jaw opens slowly as he looks at you with hunger behind his eyes, but the softness of adoration still present at his expression. You clench at the sudden coldness but he didn’t allow you to suffer any further as he moved fast and removed his own clothing.

“Shit, baby you’re fucking gorgeous.” 

He parted your thighs and squished himself in between, his member hitting your core ever  so slightly. But the thought of it drives you nuts, and it takes all of you to not do anything about it. He went back to making out with you as his hands do wonders.

“Uh, my gosh.” You inhale once his fingers start rubbing your pussy, trying to steady your hands on his body. He pulls away just to watch you fall apart in his hands.

He bites his lip as his fingers started moving down, where your hole is. “I’m.. I’m gonna finger you first, okay?” He asks ever so carefully, and it’s obvious that he’s also as nervous as you are.

“Okay, baby. I trust you.” 

And just then, he applied pressure and eventually entered you, making you flinch a bit. He moans with you, a foreign feeling enveloping at his fingertips. This is the first time he had ever touched somebody, and he can already tell that you’re the best.

“R-Renjun.” You whine as he starts moving in and out. ]

“Fuck, fuck you’re dripping, oh-” He takes a glance at your wet core, where his middle finger disappears. He pushed another finger in and you swore you almost felt like you’re coming.

You see his other hand leave your breast, moving it down his own body and you just knew what he was going to do. You swiftly take his hand away and replace it with yours. You knew enough from videos, ones that were shown to you by your former friends. 

He muttered out a deep groan once you made contact with his cock, immediately moving your hands in the same rhythm he does with his own fingers. 

You never knew it would feel this good. The look in his face, the way his mouth slackens and the way he falls vulnerable on your touch felt dangerously addicting. 

There was a strange feeling on your stomach, like a thread that’s waiting to snap. Like you were about to explode. “Renj– oh, I’m.. I think I’m coming,” 

You cry at the feeling, making him work even harder. He licks his lips as he went faster, and you can just feel your body shake. Your hands can no longer move, and in the next moment, you felt euphoria. You were shaking, grabbing at his wrist, trapping it in between as you rode the wave of pleasure.

“That was so fucking hot, baby.. God I can just cum right here.” He says, now trying to calm you down. He placed a kiss on your forehead and whispered ‘good job’. Your eyes are still closed when he positioned himself on top of you, the tip of his cock aligning in your entrance.

“You ready?” He asks, moving his tip up and down your slit. You nod, even when tired, you’re still filled with eagerness. 

“I need to feel you now,” You say. He gave you a peck on your lips and just when you know it, he started to stretch you out.

And it hurts. It hurts so bad, but it's so good. 

“It hurts,” You just couldn’t believe how painful it was. Yes, you knew it would sting a bit, but not like this. You almost wanted to stop right there but when you felt him shiver, and hear him moan, everything washed off. 

“I’-I’m sorry baby, fuck you’re gonna make me cum.” He says, whining even louder than you. He cages your head with both his forearms, making you look up at him, and him only. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” He says, tears on the edge of his eyes. 

“I love you so much,” You whisper. Swiftly, by looking at his eyes, the pain subsided. “You can move now, baby.” 

He nods and in every thrust he makes, the pain slowly turns to pleasure. Like magic, it dissipates into thin air, only replaced with the pure euphoric feeling. 

Your tears were one of those tears that came from pleasure, and that pleasure not only derives from him fucking you, but also from the fact that it’s him you’re doing this with. The boy you love the most.

“I can’t, baby. I can’t last, you feel too fucking good.” He whined in your ear, embracing you so tight that you might’ve broken a rib, not that you’d care. 

You hugged him back, “It’s okay, baby. Let go.” 

“Ah, ah— shit, I love you. I love you, y/n. Please tell me you— fuck —love me too.”

You were there with him, both your climax approaching fast, even faster when he called your name. “I love you so much, my baby, my Huang Renjun.” 

You both came, looking at each others eyes. He dived down to kiss you torridly, caressing your hair. 

And with that intense state of pleasure and love, you hold him like you’ve never before. 

Everything was perfectly in place for you, and you’ve never been happier. 

You’re achieving your dream of becoming a cheerleader, and your dream of being with your first love, Huang Renjun. It all seemed dandy, until Giselle asked you to stay behind practice.

“You know Theo? The main base? Yeah, he likes you, y/n.” At the end of the practice, Giselle and Ningning basically cornered you. You had no idea about what they were talking about— one thing’s for sure, you’re not interested.

“I don’t like him like that.. and besides, I have a—”

“And our Ningning here likes Renjun. So I suggest giving her a chance, yeah?” Giselle crossed her arms across her chest, lifting her brows.

You were puzzled. You and Renjun just officiated your relationship last night, how can they ask you this? Your breathing quickens.

“I-I— Giselle, what are you saying? He’s my boyfriend,” Your voice started to shake. 

“Don’t piss me o—” Ningning rolled her eyes at you and even attempted to lunge at you, making you flinch but Giselle blocked her.

“Nings,” Giselle reprimanded before staring back at you again.

“You know that cheerleading is all about sisterhood, right, y/n?” Her voice was ice cold, her eyes making you shiver. The Giselle you idolized was long gone, only replaced by this cold hearted person.

“I—”

“But it’s fine. However, you can’t just turn down Theo like that, right? He’s been talking about you nonstop, and to be honest, I like him as my brother. So, be kind and meet him at the back of the gym tonight. You can do that, right?” Her attitude screamed authoritative, but also soft, as if to trick you into manipulation. She didn’t let her smile fade while waiting for your answer.

You shake your head, “I will talk to him when I want to, Giselle. But I don’t think its a good idea—”

“Do you think it’s a good idea to go against the cheer captain? You'll see him after this. And you better not tell Renjun. Or else, I’ll kick you out of the team.” 

You were in a state of shock. You feel highly strung, why is she being like this? Threatening to kick you out because you refuse to obey her nonsense order? 

You couldn’t say anything when they left. You were conflicted on so many levels. 

When you become Captain, you will never be like her. You’ll be better, in every conceivable way. 

But now that you’re still starting, you can’t do much. So you followed her. Convincing yourself that nothing worse will happen. You'll just have to talk with Theo, that’s it.

[6:34pm] injunnie <3: baby are u done? meet me @ the parking lot

Your fingers shake, typing out a lie. You cannot fathom lying to him, but still, you did. 

[6:35pm] you: hi babyy <3 uhm, not yet. i need to practice a few stunts :(( i’ll just text u, ok?

[6:35pm] injunnie <3: ok baby. see u later! love u :*

You brush your hand across your hair. Not even a day in your relationship, and you’re already lying to him about meeting a guy. You felt horrible. 

Yet, here you are, standing a few feet away from Theo.

“Hi, y/n.” He was smiling at you, but you felt uncomfortable. He started walking towards you rather aggressively, to the point that your legs started to step away backwards. 

There was a measure of anxiety spread all over your face, however, you still managed to talk. 

“Giselle told me–”

“She’s right, y/n. I asked her to help me. And I’m glad you decided to talk about this–” 

Your brows knitted together, but you thought that maybe he had a wrong impression about you coming here to talk to him. “Actually, Theo, I have a boyfriend.” 

He froze, smile fading, his expression accenting his confusion. You almost felt bad, but in a swift moment, his lips stretched into a smirk and leaned his head to the right. “Well, you could just give me a lil’ kiss then, right?”

Your lips ajar, brows furrowed as you try and process what you’ve just heard. Deeply offended, you attempt to call him out on his brazen request, but he continues.

“Giselle would be so mad to hear that you can’t even give me a single kiss, y/n. She loves me, and if I told her how selfish you are, she’d have no problem banning you from cheerleading up until college. She has connections, y/n.” 

All other words suddenly fled your mind. Theo’s basically blackmailing you into cheating. Your nose wrinkled in disgust upon his words, but you can’t seem to say anything. Heart beats intensely as you weigh the choice you need to make in this situation.

“Giselle won’t–” 

“Oh she will. You’re outshining her in the squad and she’d be more than happy to make up a reason to ban you. Come on, y/n. Your boyfriend doesn’t need to know.” 

You’d be forbidden to join up until college. You wouldn’t be able to cheer ever again. 

He takes a step forward, this time, rooted in your place, you feel your stomach twist. Your eyes burned in tears. Theo’s touch burned, and you gulped as his palm laid on your cheek. 

You couldn’t move. Your skin tingles, heart rapidly beating within your chest as your breathing grows tighter. 

He doesn’t have to know. Renjun wouldn’t know.

At the moment his lips touched yours, you knew you made a mistake. You felt disgusted, you can’t find it in you to respond.

 “Kiss me fucking properly.” He growls. You clench your fist, and tighten your eyes as you kiss him back despite the tremble of your lips due, a wave of revulsion swept through your entire body. 

You’re cheating on Renjun for your dream of being a cheerleader. 

Then there was a terrifying moment when you feel someone else being present in this vile affair that you’re forced to partake in. You open your tear filled eyes and right there and then, your whole world shatters.

There he was, the love of your life, standing a few feet away. Behind him was Ningning, sporting a smirk as if she’d won. Your mind tells you to step away, run to Renjun, and beg for forgiveness. But your fear overshadowed you, staying right where you were, slowly digging your own grave.

His eyes were poisonous to even look upon, so much hatred tainted in his mind. You knew he’d hate you, no, he’d despise you. And nothing breaks your heart even more than seeing him walk away.

You immediately pushed Theo, and landed a sharp slap across his face. Tears surged in uncontrollably as you slowly realize that you’d already lost the only person you loved. 

Whatever it takes, huh?

You see Theo leave, and when it’s just you and the overflowing guilt alone, that’s when your legs give out. You sat there, clutching your hand on your chest as you cried, desperately wiping your lips until they hurt. 

In the quiet moments that followed, the only sound was the echoing resonance of guilt, regret, and shame.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ 

“Ruptured patellar tendon on your knee, Ms. Y/N. Unfortunately you’ll have to undergo physical therapy, and most likely, you'll never be able to perform in cheerleading indefinitely.” 

You felt like a bucket of ice cold water was just poured all over you. You stared at nothingness, hoping all of this was just a dream. 

Why should this even happen to you? Is it karma? If it is, isn’t this too much of a punishment? 

You cried and cried until your eyes dried up, having to accept the fact that at the age of 22, your dream was snatched away from you.

Was it cruel? Yes, absolutely. Did you deserve it? Arguable. 

Cheerleading was the only thing you know, and now it’s off the table. It was as though a veil of sadness had been draped over your eyes, distorting your perception of the world and casting everything in shades of gray. What are you supposed to do now?

A swarm of support follows you on the third day of your hospitalization, and you swear you’re grateful for all of them, however, you can’t seem to find gratitude for any of them.

Most of the cards called you Birdie, and how are you supposed to live up to the name if your wings were broken off? You’re no longer Birdie, and the only remaining sentiment that name carries is sadness and disappointment.

“I beat her up, you know?” Minnie says one time she visited you.

You look at her in shock. A laugh traveled through her, “Not ‘beat’, actually. I just landed a few on her face. Nobody in the squad snitched, because they knew she deserved it. Her boyfriend seemed mad about it tho,” 

For the first time in a while, you thought about Renjun. Your mind was in a different space the entire time that you forgot about him. He wasn’t there when the incident occured and it would be possible if he didn’t know what happened. 

“Does he know?” Your voice was scratched, and a glint of hope laced in your tone.

“I don’t think he knew of the severity of the injury, and I’m sure that bitch already switched up the story. He’s a dumbass.”

“He wasn’t there, he didn’t see what happened. I’m sure he’s–”

Minnie snapped, raising her voice. “Oh for fuck’s sake, Birdie. Stop defending him! You should get your mind off of him. It’s pissing me off that despite what happened, you still find a way to give people the benefit of a doubt. And I bet you don’t even blame Julie, you’d rather blame yourself,” She’s right. Not that you’re not mad about what Julie did, but you’re more so empty. You don’t know what to feel, and even debated if you deserved it or not.

You sink more on your seat in shame. “Please, learn to be mad. Learn to be angry, and hold people into accountability. Not everyone deserves a second chance.” 

That made you think, not only about this entire ordeal, but also the past. Not everyone deserves a second chance.

Does that mean you too? With what you did with Renjun? Did you not deserve a second chance?

Maybe you’re too nice because you’re overcompensating for what you did to get what you had. And now you’ve had your time, it was cruelly snatched from you. 

Maybe that dream wasn’t yours to begin with.

And maybe, Renjun wasn’t meant to be yours, too.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Renjun felt uneasy. There’s something weird about the atmosphere that night of the game. 

Before your performance that night, he had to take a call from his mom, asking him to come home for a favor. He was conflicted, because although he masked it greatly, he did liked watching you perform. 

However, he thought that you still had a final performance in the next game, which was twice as important than that night so he just opted to leave before the game. 

The next morning, he was overwhelmed by Julie’s tears. 

“M-Minnie, that fucking bitch beat me up!” She screams, pointing at the slight bruising at her temple.

He heard about the incident last game, and it killed him to get the news that you were injured, again. The last time that happened, he almost wanted to take you home and take care of you properly. Yet, something in him always reminds him that you chose this career.

You chose this over him. 

But Renjun wouldn’t lie if he said that he didn’t feel bad about Julie right now. From what he has heard, the entire thing was an accident. Julie did not deserve to be hurt physically, at least that’s what he thought at first.

Julie had become a close friend of his, quickly forming a bond with shared interest in some things. Julie’s really pretty as well, and even though Renjun doesn’t care about that stuff, he’s sure as hell won’t deny the truth. 

He tried, he really did. Julie was a perfect partner, and she seemed sweet and kind, one of the qualities Renjun liked about her. So, yes. Maybe he did plan to be with her, at least sleep with her. 

But when he saw your pain stricken face in that elevator, he was suddenly unsure.

“Why did you have to put your hands on her?” He asks Minnie calmly. He had no intention confronting her, he just wanted to know the reason and she happened to walk past him.

She stared back at him with a cold grin, “That bitch deserved more.” 

For some odd reason, Renjun didn’t say anything after that. Rather, he’d questioned why Minnie did it to that extent, why is she so angry that she’d resort to violence.

It wasn’t until the day before your big performance that Renjun started to worry. It has been more than a week and he still hasn’t seen you.

He snuck out from classes just to peek at the cheerleading practice and you weren’t there. Not in your usual classes, hallways or cafeteria where he’s usually seen you. 

Out of sheer desperation, he asked Julie.

“What happened at the last game?”

He saw a glimpse of fear run through her eyes when it widened upon hearing his question.

“I told you, It was an accident.” Julie’s tone was defensive.

There’s a voice inside Renjun’s head, saying to not trust her. 

For the reason being that you’d never not show up in your classes, even with simple injury. Sure, you’d skip practice for a few days but you’d be back on your feet the next day. Especially with an event like this.

His worry grew, now stressing on why you’re still not around. It’s the final game, and you should be here, if not to cheer, but atleast watch your squad. You’d always done that. So why are you still not around?

He curses at himself for caring about you this much. He felt like he betrayed himself, his own morals and beliefs because he should not care about you anymore. Afterall, you cheated on him. No matter how nice you are, no matter how much you claim that you’ve changed. There’s no way he could just forget the pain he went through.

So why is he standing outside the field, waiting on any of your friends to show up and ask them where you’ve been? 

“Where’s your captain?” He asks the first person he saw wearing the squad uniform.

“Oh, she’s almost here, wait, there she is!” Sunghoon says pointing at the back. 

A wave of relief washed over Renjun. Shit, you’re okay. You’re here. 

But when he turns around, he sees Minnie. He furrows his brow, quite perplexed as to why he’s pointing at Minnie when he knows damn well she’s not the captain of cheerleading.

“If you’re here to ask where’s Julie, I kicked that bitch out. Sorry,” She sneered at him.

He almost yells that he’s not here for Julie. He couldn't care less about her. He’s here for you.

“You’re.. You’re not the captain. Where’s y/n?” 

Minnie’s smirk faded, as if his question shifted the mood. “You really don’t know, huh?”

He felt the first thump in his chest. “What?”

“Better ask her yourself.” 

With that, she left Renjun hanging. He couldn’t try and stop Minnie, asking her for any explanation because he felt like he was going to explode.

His lips fell ajar, as everything clicked.

You had an injury, and right after that you didn’t go to any of your practice, then Julie got kicked out and now Minnie’s replaced you as the captain.

He covers his mouth in realization, adding another layer of fear. He needs to find you.

Fortunately, Renjun doesn’t need to walk far. He had heard that you’re in the premises to watch the game, and the first place he had thought of was the gymnasium.

He finds you, sitting alone on the bleachers with a pair of pompoms on your side. You weren’t wearing your uniform.

“Y/n,” He whispers, yet the resonance of his voice echoes. He approaches you carefully, assessing the entire situation. He wants to be there for you, but he doesn’t want to force you if you want to be alone.

You look up at him, and when his eyes meet yours, he can just hear his heart break. You looked defeated. You look tired.

“Why aren’t you in uniform, Birdie?” He asks softly. Deep inside Renjun, he knew why. But he can’t accept it. Not when this is your life. Not when he knows it’ll break you to give up.

You slowly shake your head helplessly at him, on the verge of despair. Gripping both your hands on your knees, like you’re holding yourself together. 

“The game’s about to start–”

“I can’t, Renjun, I can’t dance anymore.” He takes a huge breath after hearing your voice break, and he takes two huge steps to reach you. He kneels before you, grabbing your cold hands. 

“There has got to be another way, baby. We’ll get you the best doctor out th–”

“I’m done with cheerleading, Renjun. I.. I can’t even fucking walk properly!” You broke down in front of him, and he swore he’d never felt so horrible in his life. His own tears betrayed him, but he doesn't care. When you, his entire world, is falling apart in his hands.

He pulls you in a tight embrace, letting you wet his shirt completely. Caressing your hair as he attempts to calm you, but in his mind, he’s also hanging by a thread– seeing you like this, completely giving up, breaks him to his core.

“What do I do now, Renjun? What–” you sobbed in between your words, and he bit his lip hearing you like this. It hurts him so much to see you like this. He closes his eyes, gently trying to soothe your shaking shoulders.

“I’m so sorry, my baby.” He whispers, kissing the top of your head repeatedly. 

At this moment, Renjun swears in his grave, that he will never forgive whoever did this to you.

And if your sweet smile never comes back after this, all hell will break loose. Because he’s never afraid of his own scars, but yours? Oh, that’s his deepest, darkest fear.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Neo Culture University Newsblog

“NCU’s Top Cheerleader, the captain of NCU Squadron, the first ever cheerleader to perform the highest basket toss in NCU cheerleading history, Y/N, L/N, famously known as The Bird, announces her departure from the squad after the incident at the first game between NCU vs SHU. 

Also known as Birdie, had suffered a career ending injury after falling whilst performing a routine last Thursday night. It was announced by the cheer committee that Hwang Youngmin will be replacing her as a captain of the squad.

Furthermore, investigations involving a former cheerleader who’s accused of sabotaging the Cheer Captain’s career, causing her to retire from cheerleading. Foul play is suspected, and we’ll be reporting more on it soon. So far, it has been confirmed that said cheerleader is now kicked out of the squad. Updates soon.”

Renjun is filled with nothing but rage.

That was your dream. That was your everything. And just for… a fucking bitch to ruin it all for you?

“Calm down, man. I’m sure the school will handle it.” Jeno, ever the mediator says. This was the first time his friends saw him this fuming.

“No. Fuck no. I want that bitch out of this school.” Renjun was adamant about kicking Julie out. He’d do everything in his power to make sure she didn’t step foot on this campus ever again. 

“Are we even sure about what happened—” Haechan attempts to cut in on the conversation but a sharp look from Renjun made him freeze.

“Do I look like I care? Accident or not, I’ll make sure she suffers. I’ll make up a dumb fucking reason, anything, to get her kicked out. I’ll fund the fucking investigation against her. I’ll make sure she pays for it. Whatever it takes.” His voice was dangerously calm. Every word carrying weight, every threat sounded like a promise.

It doesn’t matter to him now. He could lie and tell everybody he hates you, but nobody could ever hurt you like this. Not on his watch.

You could cheat on him a million times but he’ll never be angry enough to let this happen to you. Not when you were once his everything — not when you’re once his lifeline. Everyone else doesn’t matter. 

When it comes to you, he’d do worse.

Haechan, Jeno and Jaemin looked at each other, worried about what Renjun would do. They had never seen him filled with this much rage. It was horrifying, the lengths he’s willing to take for you. 

And deep inside, they knew that behind the cold exterior he always treated you with, is a man who is still deeply in love with you. 

Also, one common knowledge among them is never to mess with Renjun.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

“Thank you, Ms. Lin! See you next monday,” You waved goodbye to your therapist, as you went out for your weekly physical therapy. 

After the surgery, it was really hard to adjust. You needed to use clutches for what it feels like forever, and there were restrictions that you needed to follow. The school granted you a scholarship, which was really awesome to hear. At least that was taken care of.

“Baby,” 

You look up front to see Renjun waiting for you in his car. You smiled at him and waved excitedly. He runs up to you, swiftly taking your bag with him.

“Right on time, impressive.” You sneer at him. He grabs your hand and hooks it over his arm. 

“I was here fifteen minutes early, baby.” He winks at you, giving you a light peck on the lips. You giggled, watching him open the car door for you. You put your injured knee first, before sitting with your entire body. 

“Where are we going?” You ask. He didn’t tell you about the plans today, but you didn’t bother to ask either. You just assumed he would take you back to his apartment and you’ll just burn a hole in his couch watching netflix the rest of the day.

You can never really pinpoint on when you and Renjun decided to get back together, or at least you think you’re back together. Ever since that day at the gymnasium, Renjun never left your side. You didn’t dare ask him what’s going on, afraid to ruin whatever it is.

You sat there, a bit uncertain on why Renjun still hasn’t started the car. You turn to him, looking for any reason as to why he just sat there gripping the steering wheel.

“Giselle called today,” He exhaled.

You widen your eyes in aghast. That’s a name you’ve never heard before. Or more accurately, that’s a name you wished to never hear of ever again. 

Nonetheless, you guessed this topic should be discussed sooner or later. You can’t always avoid the inevitable, hiding from the ghosts from the past. And you believe that the both of you are much more grown now to handle it  maturely.

“She saw the article, apparently. And uh, she told me.. Well, everything.” You take a deep breath.

You clear your throat and nodded, calculating on how you should go about the conversation. You’ve rehearsed begging him for forgiveness a thousand times before, however, you realize that you should just tell him what you feel at the moment. Not some rehearsed bullcrap, because Renjun deserves nothing but the raw truth from you.

“How’s Giselle? I hope they’re doing good,” You start with genuine curiosity. 

Renjun furrows his brows as he looks at you. “Baby, they gave you hell and you still wish them the best? I–I don’t think I can ever forgive them for ruining us, ever.” He claims, grabbing your hand, intertwining it and kissing the back of your palm.

You smile warmly at him. “It’s okay, baby. I’ll forgive them for the both of us.” 

He shook his head, disagreeing. “No. You’ll have to learn how to express anger for people who deserve it. You can’t let them get away every single time. They’d just do it all over again.” 

A semblance of a smile had gently flickered onto your lips as you admired him. “Alright, baby. I’ll try. But good thing you’re with me now, right? You can be the bad cop and I’d be the good cop!” 

Through his serious demeanor, a small smirk threatened to sneak its way on his mouth. 

“And I’m so sorry for treating you like shit. I was deep in my own hateful charade to mask the fact that I still wanted to be with you. I guess I was a puss–”

“Language, baby.” You faked an angry tone, but immediately smiled after. “Besides, I understand. I wouldn’t want to be seen with a person who cheated on–”

“You didn’t, baby. You quite literally had no choice.” He warned. 

“Okay, sure but you also have to let me earn your trust. At the end of the day, I still kissed somebody else when we’re together. But at the same time, I also feel terrible because it seemed like I sacrificed our own relationship for nothing.” 

Everytime you remind yourself of the decision you made when you were young, hurting the person you love, for something that was taken away from you way too soon, makes you feel so stupid. So disappointed in yourself. 

“I trust you with my life, baby. You’re responsible for me now, so don’t you dare leave me again. Okay? I love you.” 

Before you wallow in guilt, Renjun kissed you deeply and passionately. Your lips move in a rhythmic manner, as if it was a melody that played in the silence of your hearts, a song of tenderness and affection. 

“Shit, baby we should go. We’re going to be late,” He pulled away too early, despite your pleas and looked at his wristwatch. 

You turn your head in confusion. Do you have plans today? He didn’t say anything and began to drive. You were sitting in your seat demented, wondering where he’d take you. You try to familiarize the road he’s taking, but you are left clueless.

He stopped at an expensive looking hall, seemingly a restaurant, or an events place, honestly you’re not sure. There's a waitress waiting at the reception. Renjun just says his name, and the woman just nodded and smiled at you. You hesitantly smiled back, and that’s when she guided you inside.

“What is this?” Your heart is now pumping out your chest, as you try to figure out Renjun's plan. 

He just turns to you and puts his index fingers on his lips. The waitress stopped at a double door, knocked five times, odd to say the least, then gestured for Renjun to open the door. 

For a moment, Renjun unlinks your hands from his arms to open the door. And as soon as you took a step inside the dark room, a collective excitement shrieked as the lights turned on. 

“Congratulations, Birdie!” 

Your eyes widened, your mouth fell open as you saw everyone who ever mattered to you greets you with the widest smile as they held their own party prop. The confetti drowns you, but it doesn't baffle you. What touched you the most is your cheer squad, Minnie leading them as she blows the small horn. 

‘Celebrating Y/N “The Bird” L/N’s legacy in NCU Squad’ it says on a banner.

You covered your mouth and immediately broke down, Minnie running to you and hugging you so tight.

“Bitch, you’re gonna make me cry!” She whines as she tries to wipe your tears off your face.

You clutch your chest, being overwhelmed in joy. Sniffing silently as you greet the other people.

“There she is!” You hear Coach Evie emerging from the crowd, embracing you.

“Thank you, Coach.”

“You’re by far the best cheerleader I’ve seen in my career. But I know you’re much better than just being a cheerleader. Please remain as hopeful as you were before, Birdie.” She says, making you sob even more. You murmured more gratitude to her.

“Uh-Uhm.” You look at someone clearing their throat beside you, and you see an awkward Haechan standing there looking at his feet. Renjun harshly nudges him forward to you, Jeno and Jaemin smirking behind him.

“I apologize for my behavior, and I regret everything I have said that’s hateful towards you. I wish we could get along and be friends. And again, I’m sorry.” He says, almost robotic, and most people would find it insincere, but you just chuckled.

“Did Renjun ask you to memorize that?” 

“Renjun asked more, actually. He was supposed to kneel, Birdie. Just wait for it..” Jaemin snickers, Jeno laughing at the entire thing.

“Psh. It’s fine, Haechan. I forgive you.” You say in the middle of a laugh, finding it almost adorable how Haechan is scared of Renjun. Somehow, it just makes sense.

It was Jeno’s turn to hug you, “Congrats, Birdie.” He’s always been soft and composed. You always appreciated that about him.

“Come here! Congratulations Birdie!!” Jaemin runs to you and embraces you, spinning you around. You yelp, not expecting it but Renjun quickly holds Jaemin’s shoulder as he pulls you from him.

“Not too much on my girl, dude!” Renjun shouts, as if Jaemin just kidnapped you in broad daylight. Jaemin carefully puts you down, pointing at Renjun with a mischievous smile splattered all over his face.

“Ooh, Is our Renjun jealous?” 

The three of them clowned Renjun on, “It’s just–! She’s injured!” He says in defense. 

As much as you want to watch him have fun with his friends, you’re afraid what’s on your mind can’t wait any longer.

“Baby,” You gently pull at his hand. He whipped his head towards you quickly.

You caress his furrowed brows, smoothing it then caressing his cheeks. In the middle of the chaos, the noise and the sea of people, you looked at him as if you two were the only people in the room.

His eyes fill your chest with warmth, the familiarity of his touch calming your soul, and the comfort of his smile soothes your entire wellbeing. He is your solace, and you won’t ever fucking do anything to hurt him, ever again. 

“I love you,” You say, silently, eliciting a smile from him. He leans down, kissing you with intensity, almost sparking a flame between the two of you. You hear the crowd cheering, as you two pull away.

“I love you, and you will never be unloved by me. I’m sorry baby but you’re stuck with me. Be my girlfriend again?” He asks loud enough for just the two of you. You nod eagerly, kissing him again.

That’s when you felt the world cheer for your happiness. It’s now clear to you that your happiness is with him. Not with cheerleading, not with anything else. Your dream could change, your future could give you the biggest plot twist ever known to man, but one thing’s for sure. 

Just as long as you’re with Renjun, you’re gonna be okay.

To: My dearest Renjun,

I will love you in this lifetime, and the next, because forever doesn’t seem enough. My love, you’re worth it all. xoxo

-y/n

-end-

[sunsetmade]

My Talker

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: You love to talk but some people don’t wanna hear it.

Please request any ideas!

The small beach house was buzzing with chatter and laughter, a mix of loud voices and clinking bottles. It was a Kook party, but this wasn’t the usual wild rager that went on until sunrise. This afternoon, it felt more laid-back, a chill vibe where everyone was just hanging out. Rafe had dragged you along, promising it would be fun, and of course, you agreed. You didn’t mind going with him to his parties or events—it was reassuring to know he wanted you there, by his side.

You and Rafe hadn’t been dating for long—just four months, to be exact. Yet, in that brief time, you’d grown as close as two people could possibly be. He’d let his guard down around you in a way that few ever saw, revealing a side of him that was soft, sweet, and gentle. Despite how different you two were, it just worked. You were the talker, and he was the listener—exactly how he wanted it to be.

Rafe loved listening to your rants and random stories. It was one of his favorite things about you. The way your voice was soft yet serious, no matter what you were talking about, always drew him in. He could never get enough of hearing you speak.

✧* ✧*

“— so I was standing in line, and the lady in front of me had, like, I don’t know, maybe five items, and I swear it took her like thirty minutes—” You were in the middle of telling Rafe about your grocery store adventure without him. He was stretched out on his bed, propped up on his elbow, watching you as you sat beside him, legs crossed. His left hand absentmindedly traced circles on your thigh as he nodded along, fully engaged in your story.

“Was Linda the cashier?” he asked, and immediately, he saw your eyes light up. That simple question showed you that he was listening, that you weren’t just rambling on, even though you kind of were. But Rafe would never interrupt. “Yes! So then—” You chuckled, and Rafe smiled, gently squeezing your leg, his attention completely on you.

✧* ✧*

Rafe stood behind you, his arms wrapped around your waist as he chatted with his friend. You silently watched the conversation unfold between the two men, your gaze lingering on him. Soon, a small group of people gathered around, most of whom you didn’t know. While it might have been uncomfortable for some, you saw it as an opportunity to meet more people to talk to.

“Don’t you teach little kids how to surf?” one of them asked. Rafe gave your hip a gentle squeeze, and you smiled brightly.

“Yeah, it’s so much fun! Do you guys surf?” you replied. The girl nodded, smiling, and you continued, “It’s such an amazing hobby, like being one with the water. It’s kinda cool.”

Rafes lips turned up into a grin hearing the excitement in her voice. She had been dying to talk all night and now was her chance.

“Actually, the other day this one kid like totally belly flopped in the water. He had the biggest red spot on his back after and—” you rambled on, glancing around at the faces in the circle. Most of them looked interested, nodding along, but when your gaze passed over the two girls sitting nearby, your heart sank.

“God, does she ever shut up?” one whispered, and the other laughed.

The words hit you like a punch to the stomach, and suddenly, all your confidence seemed to vanish. You cleared your throat, your voice quieter now. “Uhm, s-sorry...the kid ended up being okay. But surfing is great, you guys should really try it.

Rafe frowned, glancing down at you as you stared at the floor, your usual spark gone. The rest of the group hadn’t noticed, and the conversation resumed, but Rafe couldn’t shake the confusion gnawing at him. You never stopped a story halfway, especially not before getting to the good part. He leaned down, his mouth brushing against your ear as he whispered, “You okay, pretty girl?”

You gave him a weak smile and nodded, but it didn’t reach your eyes like it normally did. His heart clenched at the deflated tone in your voice.

“What happened?” he asked, his protective nature starting to build, already suspecting that one of the Kooks had said something.

You looked up at him, trying to shake it off. “I’m fine, Rafe. I promise. No one wanted to hear my silly story.” You waved him off, but the way you said it made him freeze. Why did you think that? Why the hell would you ever believe that?

In a split second, he pulled his arms from around your waist and took your hand, guiding you outside to the quiet patio. His frustration was clear in his quick, purposeful steps, his grip tight around your hand as if he needed to keep you close.

The cold dusk air hit you both as you stepped into the dim light of the patio, and Rafe turned to face you, his jaw clenched. “Why would you think that?” he asked, his voice sharp but laced with concern. “You think no one cares about what you have to say?”

You looked up at him, unsure of how to respond, your eyes still heavy with the weight of their words. Rafe’s gaze softened, “Baby, why would you think that?” He asked again this time softer as his right hand pulled you in closer to him. Your sad doe eyes looked up at him.

You walked into his chest, burying your head there. Rafe sighed, his arms wrapping tightly around your back, pulling you even closer. For a few moments, neither of you said anything, just standing there in the quiet. Then, you finally spoke, your voice muffled against his shirt, “These two girls were laughing when I was talking. Not only that, but I’ve been hearing people say around the island that I’m annoying because of how much I talk.”

Rafe’s breath hitched slightly at your words, but he immediately tightened his hold on you, his grip becoming possessive. His chest rose and fell as he exhaled sharply, clearly frustrated. “Don’t listen to them,” he muttered, his voice low and intense. He pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt your chin up so he could look you in the eyes. “You’re not annoying. Not even close. Those people don’t know what they’re talking about.”

You could see the anger flashing in his eyes, a protective fierceness that only surfaced when it came to you. He cupped your face with his hand, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. “If anyone has a problem with you, it’s their issue, not yours. Don’t ever let anyone make you feel small, especially not over something as stupid as talking too much. You’re perfect just the way you are, got it?” His words were fierce, but there was a tenderness in his tone that made your heart flutter.

His mood softened as a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. Seeing it, Rafe's expression lightened, and he couldn’t help but smile too. “Besides,” he murmured, his voice low and sincere, “I love hearing you talk. It’s my favorite thing about you.”

His face moved closer to yours, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, the words lingering in the air. A bright smile spread across your face, and you let out a soft chuckle. “Really?”

Rafe nodded, his expression casual, as if his words held no weight. But to you, they meant everything. Grinning, you stood on your tiptoes and pressed a light kiss to his lips, your heart fluttering as the moment settled between you.

Rafe gave a small smile, the protective, fierce edge softening into something more gentle. With his arm around you, you both stood there in silence, the moment stretching on as the world outside continued to turn. But right there, in his embrace, you knew you’d be alright.

[22ayla21]

A Royal Beard

Leona's decision to grow a beard was vetoed the moment he spoke.

From the Author: I wanted to post with a request, but then something bugged and the request disappeared. Anon, if anything, let me know if you liked what I wrote.

Leona Kingscholar had never been one to care too much about his appearance. Yes, he always looked presentable, his hair was in order, and his uniform, though slightly disheveled, fit him perfectly. However, lately, he had a new idea. He was thinking about a beard.

Kings always wear beards, right? It's a symbol of power, strength, and maturity. Even his father and some of the advisors at court had substantial facial hair. Of course, Farena didn't have one, but his older brother had always been too... pious. But Leona was different.

And so, lying on his girlfriend's bed in Ramshackle, he lazily stretched out, staring at the ceiling, and said, "I'm going to grow a beard."

The response was immediate: "No."

He didn't even turn his head to look at his girlfriend, who was sitting nearby doing her homework.

"Why not?" he asked, squinting.

She scoffed, putting down her book. "Are you serious? Picture yourself with a beard. Well?"

He imagined it. A mighty lion, with a thick, dark beard exuding nobility and aristocracy. Yes, it would definitely look impressive.

But her face clearly said she saw it differently.

"So, what do you think?" he asked with a grin.

She crossed her arms. "Leona, let's be honest. You barely take care of your hair, and now you want something that requires even more maintenance?"

He opened his mouth to object, but then closed it.

Okay, she was right. He really didn't bother much with combing his hair. But a beard was royal!

"A beard adds gravitas," he argued.

She snorted. "And extra sloppiness."

Leona sighed heavily and stretched, then lazily mumbled, "You just don't want me to look too imposing, do you?"

She shook her head. "No. I just don't want you to look like someone who forgot to shave for months."

He paused.

She continued, "You're too handsome to hide your face behind a beard."

Leona froze. That was an unexpected move.

Of course, he knew he was good-looking, but hearing it from her... was nice. Her voice softened as she came closer, leaned down, and gently ran her fingers along his cheek.

"I like the way you look now. Without a beard."

He scoffed, but didn't pull away. "Don't think I've changed my mind."

She smiled. "Of course, of course. But just so you know, if you grow it, I won't kiss you."

Leona's eyes snapped open, and he propped himself up on his elbow. "What?"

She shrugged innocently. "Well, beards are prickly. And besides..."

She ran her fingers over his smooth skin, smiling slightly. "I like it like this."

Leona paused, deep in thought.

"Hmm..."

And then, with a sigh, he collapsed back onto the bed. "Fine, fine. You've convinced me."

She smirked.

Leona Kingscholar could be stubborn, but even he knew when to back down.

[elstattoo]

men and minors dni

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ phone sex with ellie .𖥔 ݁ ˖

content: fingering (r), dirty talk, ellie touches herself

You couldn’t do it. Not without the aid of her. It was times like this when she was away, you grew the most desperate for her. Especially with the heat in your stomach appearing when you were close, then disappearing because you couldn’t finish without her, and Ellie knew this, it swelled her heart with a sense of pride, knowing you needed her that much. So when you pinged her phone, messaging her about how much you missed her and needed to hear her voice; she knew.

“C’mon, baby. Tell me what you’re doing,” she husked into the phone.

You shivered hearing those words, pussy growing wetter the more she talked. You had two fingers curled inside yourself, your wetness sticking to both your thighs and even the sheets below you. You were growing closer and closer, and more impatient, wanting to finally cum. “I’m fingering myself to you, Els. Need you so bad…”

Ellie bit down on her lip, a groan rasping through the phone which made you slicker, legs closing together from the sheer sensitivity. “Jesus Christ, you’re so dirty. Always desperate for me, huh? Got such a needy fuckin’ cunt…”

Her own fingers were working pushing down her own pants and boxers, the clothing now bunched around her feet. Ellie wished she could see you right now, laying there looking like an angel, fingering your pussy for her. She wanted to see how your face contorted into pleasure, flashes of it crossing her mind.

Hearing such dirty words pulled from her lips, just was the kick you needed. The impending heat in your stomach suddenly grows more rapid, your fingers curling harshly inside your walls, repeatedly hitting a spot that feels so good. A whine escapes from your end of the phone, no actual words being formed. You were too fucked out, too dumb off the thought of Ellie and her repeative dirty words.

The silence only lasted so long before Ellie grew impatient by you not replying. Her slender fingers were rubbing aggressively against her clit, the phone picking up the echoing sound of your wetness and fingers pounding inside yourself. It made Ellie’s head dizzy, her own cunt soaked below her. She wanted to hear you, “C’mon where’s my girl’s voice? Are you close, baby?”

You sped up your fingers, stupidly nodding your head as if she were right there with you, too desperate for her to even care. “Yes, I’m so close. I’m gonna… cum. Fuck—“

Ellie gripped the phone harder, wishing she could see the filthy mess of you cumming all over your fingers. “Yeah… that’s it, baby. Soak those fingers for me.”

And you did, you came so hard, you felt as though you were floating. Your whole body shook as you came, you slipped your cum-coated fingers out of your pussy and eased the digits into your moan. Following with a pop when they were clean, “I came so hard…” you breathed out, “And I cleaned the mess for you.”

Hearing that, Ellie’s fingers halted, eyes widening. It was like a switch went off inside her, hearing you say that. She closed her eyes, sighing softly, knowing what she had to do.

All you heard was shuffling for a moment on her end of the phone, leaving you confused momentarily. Ellie had her shoes on and clothes pulled back up, now looking for her keys. “I’m coming over,” she mumbled. “You’re so fucking in for it, babe.”

You paused, replaying the words in your head. Even though you had fucked yourself minutes prior, you felt yourself dripping once again. “Please hurry. El.”

[redge]

I am not saying that I ship this pairing but I could say that this pairing actually occured in my mind. I can vividly remember while I was rewatching S1 to S3 how I posted on Twitter that it would be interesting to see Five and Lila end up together and that was even before seeing Season 4.

Second, I am part of the fandom that is very much accepting of this storyline (and Season 4 in general). A lot of things happened 6 years post-Oblivion. So obviously, things will also happen in this 6 years, and Five and Lila happened. Did it happen instantly? Hell no. Those feelings did not happen over night. It took them years.

Do I hate Five for crossing that line? No. Because even when he did, resigned and just threw in the towel knowing he'll never get what he wanted, and actually has a way out, chose to return to his siblings and be erased from history with them.

Do I hate this season and want it to be erased from The Umbrella Academy? No. Because when you watch the whole series from Season 1 to Season 4, them not existing was a logical ending. It's like that scene from Avengers: Infinity War where Doctor Strange was looking for all the possible futures, 14,000,605 outcomes and they win in 1 at a cost of someone's life. What did Booth Five tell Five? That they tried to save the world 145,412 times only to fail every single time and come to the conclusion that they should cease to exist to return to the original timeline.

Do I find it rushed? Just because I wanted to see more of these siblings, I'd say yes. But story-wise, I think it was enough.

Not even season 4 or this storyline can make me hate Five. He will always be my numero uno.

SIX YEARS

[thatwishfulthinking]

a wretched flower

my last one shot skipped viktor giving head… rest assured that is not something i plan to let happen often… and here, neither do you

wc: 3.5k

summary: after years of avoiding his feelings for you, viktor has finally turned a corner— though you’re still unsure if he’ll stumble back into the bear trap of all-consuming work. not too keen on neglect, you decide to make sure he’s sticking to the right track. newly established relationship. f!reader

warnings: smut, desperation, dirty talk, choking

btw— i kind of have no idea what’s going on here. dom!vik, sub!vik, then angst, then metaphors, then clichés, then more sub!vik, and straight smut, and a little fluff? idk this has been making me insane for like a month

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

Clothes are left in a trail, leading from the living room into the bedroom. You're both on the bed, limbs tangled as you cling to each other. He's whispering sweet nothings into your ear. Things, of course, you’d have appreciated to hear scattered across the day instead of sewn together and adhered to one single moment.

It was a reality that you hoped for at the beginning of your relationship, only to soon declaw each finger from, one at a time, until you let it go. After yet another dinner at your kitchen island alone, accompanied by the somber tap of an expectant fork, heating up the remenants for a stony soul when he finally decided to cross through the front door. Things had been better; you basked in his attention for some time. It was only recently that he had backslid into the same depths that pooled at the most tormented part of your mind. 

Improvement wasn’t linear, of course, but god, could the ebbs and flows of it all be nothing less than excruciating. A garden, tended to and watered, would not continue to flourish if suddenly neglected. And oh, were you in trouble if came winter’s first frost. 

He moans softly, his hips thrusting upwards to meet yours, nipping at your earlobe. "I could do this with you for the rest of my life, and it would never be enough." His kiss is stinging with the sweet affection you’ve sought for fruitlessly for days now.

You grab his hips and needily move them faster for him. You knew he wouldn’t last this way, and the dichotomy of not wanting it to be over and desperately needing to take what you could, in the fleeting moments you had it, festered low in your abdomen. 

Another moan is blooming on his lips, and you register it in blissful slow motion. "You're so impatient, my sweet girl.” It’s a breathless, low sound, reverberating light into that dark place in your brain. He relents, his hips snapping with intensity. "Like this?" he groans, the bulb in his throat tremoring deliciously as it his voice travels up his esophagus in offering.

“My sweet boy” you whine back insistently at the use of the name: The very phrase he had decided to comandeer, your favorite endearment for him. Shame on you for sharing it with him, because the cheeky thing loved it so much that he was compelled to make it yours instead. You wrench his hand off of your waist, placing it on your neck. 

The sly smirk that plays on his face is one of prideful understanding at your nonverbal prompt. He grips your throat gently, his hand wrapping around the eloquent column as he applies a slight pressure. His gaze is one of communication, searching, silently asking, Is this what you wanted?

“Harder, love,” you declare, because after ample days of not enough, too much was more than welcome.

A tightening feeling at your trachea. The intentional shift of his position. The subsequent heightening the speed of his movements, it all hits you like three successive strikes. “This okay?" he asks, his breathing ragged but his voice weighted by feathers as he monitors your reaction. 

He leans in, hand brushing over your cheek as he were thumbing layers of dust off a forgotten bookshelf. "Look me in the eyes," he commands gently, and you realize that as your face twisted and contorted under his, he had been absorbing the tiny details that spoke to something else battering at you. A somber note between syllables of your words, the very corner of your mouth, where your lips discolored at the transition to skin, curling downwards ever so slightly. Subtle, but there all the same.

When you meet his eyes, he settles at a conclusion to the very research he had been conducting from aereal view. He presents a hopeful, apologetic solution— it pains him to think of all the time you’ve spent utterly hollowed by his absense. 

"No matter how busy I might be, you're always on my mind.”

The reassurance swaths across your collarbones, fizzling out delightfully somewhere at the peaks of your shoulders. A sharp grin appears across your face. “I know it’s worse now.” A calculatedly vague statement, of course, baiting him. 

He furrows his brow, slightly concerned by the change in your demeanor, and oh, the poor thing falls into your trap. "What are you talking about, love? What do you mean it’s worse now?" he asks softly, releasing your neck and letting tentative fingers pass across your brow, pinky pressed to your temple.

You laugh mischievously— he was completely correct in his sentiment, and for this you were well aware. 

“You couldn’t stop thinking of me… compromised, before,” you grab his neck instead, causing his jaw to jerk forwards. “But now that you’ve had me, you need me. You need this, love, and now it’s even harder to wander from because you know exactly what it’s like.”

His eyes widen, mystefying golden caches that you’d love to curl up inside of. His bleached clavicle warms with something that resembles sun kisses, washed with a soft flush. 

He swallows hard, his gaze locked with yours. “That is something I cannot deny,” he admits, almost solemnly, eyes pacing back and forth pensively to find the subtext. "You're right. It's harder now. The lab, the separation, it is… challenging.”

You purse your lips, still holding a bit of teasing bregrudgement. “Tell me you love it then, Viktor. Speak to me, for god’s sake, forget all the pleasant—“

"Your pussy is divine," he cuts you off, the words rolling off his tongue, and it’s almost without second thought. Someone so pretty uttering such filthy words like a confession is a sight to behold, and your breath catches abruptly.

You bring a hand to his face, and he closes his eyes, his exhales growing stronger at the thought, offering more. “I dream of it, fantasize about it, obsess over it. I stare at the chalkboard and try to conjure up the taste of it in my mouth." 

“You must be parched,” and you sigh passively, as if isn’t the most seductive statement his eardrums could manage with currently.

His eyes fly open and he groans loudly, heat coursing through his body. You can feel the boiling froth in his stomach seeping through his skin into yours where you lie against one another. How enjoyable it is to peer at him now, avoiding eye contact, staring up at the cieling and squeezing his eyes closed in heavy blinks.

“You’ve been rude, baby.” You tut.

His chest swells with a large inhale before slowly looking down at you once again, raising an eyebrow. You can’t miss the immistakeble hint of a grin playing on his lips. "Have I? And what did I do exactly?”

He leans in closer, his hand trailing up the side of your leg, pressing a thumb into the dip below the jut of your hipbone. "I'd hate to think I've offended you, love."

”I’ve just noticed,” you lift your chin and angle it upwards towards him. “You skipped what you claim to crave.”

“Sounds like a terrible oversight on my part." He tilts his head, his eyes gleaming with playful corruption. 

He leans in, lips ghosting against yours, amber irises bleeding into one another centimeters from your eyes. A painting set to still, knocked sideways by the soft underbelly of your spite, just before it could dry. 

"Allow me to rectify that," he whispers, before gently placing a kiss on your collarbone, starting his descent.

You’re shaking your head as you watch him move towards your legs. ”I don’t know, I can’t help but think you don’t appreciate it.” Appreciate me. “Is that it?” You tease, feigning mock sadness, the real version holding real space in the real lonely moments you’ve endured without him lately.

He looks up at you in an emotion so passionate it may be offense. “Love,” he murmers, his voice low, now swinging his head back and forth as well. "You know that simply isn’t true. Don't make the mistake of doubting that." He’s nudging your legs apart, and the sick, scorned thing in your mind jumps at the opportunity to interject.

“Maybe I shouldn’t let you.” You grab his chin, pulling it away from where his face has become situated between your thighs so he looks up at you. “Maybe I shouldn’t let you discover what it tastes like after the fact. You think you deserve that, hmm?”

He stills, and his brows furrow in dismay. You swear you see his lips beginning to tremble. "No, please," he gasps, his voice barely above a whisper. He sucks his cheeks in and bites, creating a pronouced hollow on either side of his slim face.

You scan his expression, completely enthralled in the fact that you’ve never seen him do that before, but he’s still trying his best at persuasion. “Please, I want to taste us, together. I do.”

You nod, acknowledging his plea, your grip on him firming slightly, fingertips pinching and propping him up by the jaw, snared like a spider’s catch. “You forgot all about it, my sweet boy. I can’t help but think you’ve been negligent, and just started fucking me. That doesn’t seem fair,” you tut once again.

He whimpers, his body trembling without inhibition now. "I'm sorry," he chokes, his voice ragged, spitting out fragments, as if otherwise he would be forced to swallow splinters chipped from feeble teeth. “Never that. I couldn’t forget. I simply lost track of my thoughts. I got carried away, I got distracted, I’m sorry." 

It may be a bit deranged, but you see yourself frolicking around, victorious, in your mind’s eye. There, you are clutching his reassurance— though product of an entirely different conversation— in a tight, delighted fist. Despite it all, your expression remains stoic.

"Please, just one taste. Just let me have one." There’s a low urgency in his voice that you haven’t heard before.

You spread your legs wider, immediately yanking his chin back up away from you as he tries to drive for a lick. His neck is now rendered taught again, poised back up towards you from your own manipulation. “I think that’s disingenuous, love. I think you know that one taste isn’t enough for either of us.”

He moans in frustration that somehow he’s saying all the wrong things, scrambling for any words that will earn clemecy. You can see the gears turning, conjuring up a response— another of which, you know, and perhaps he does too, that you will easily meet with the tortourous fortress of your acidity. “You're right," he gasps hopelessly, giving in, and he makes sure to echo himself over and over. 

“Repetition doesn’t denote sincerity.” You patronize, to which you can nearly see beads of sweat born above his brow. He buries his face into your inner thigh, shameful, disheartened. 

“I want you to look,” you say, your grip loosening, allowing his neck to relax, throwing a leg over his shoulder, a coaxing heel following the path of his spine up and down.

Arousal spattered across your thighs, parted and reddened from him fucking you. Swelling like a flower at daybreak. He desperately wants to put his tongue where his cock had just been and—

You cut his thoughts off. “Why did you sabotage yourself, my love?”

He looks up at you, his eyes wide and bewildered. "Sabotage myself, darling?" he murmurs, his voice dragging with grief. "I don’t understand. What do you mean I sabotaged myself?"

You give him a stern look, heel settling against vertebrae for a moment while you readjust your expression. “Is it not my responsibility to make sure you take care of yourself? That you don’t starve yourself of your wants, of your needs? I forbid that. Though your actions suggest that this isn’t something you need.” You draw a jagged inhale.

“Or rather, that I am not.” 

And the bitter words finally find soil to take root here, stretching upwards and outwards, a wretched flower themselves.

He shakes his head vehemently, his eyes clouding with the pain of finally understanding. “No, please, don’t say that.”

You break, reverting back to the discouraged version of yourself that you’ve had to be for weeks, and you’re gazing at one another, palms stretched outwards, showing your hand, each card a compliment to the other’s misfortune.

“Do you doubt what I feel for you?” And he says it as if he fears the letters that comprise the words themselves. 

“No,” you say meekly, and his nose wrinkles slightly, not entirely convinced.

“It—“ he sucks in a sharp breath. “Consumes me while I’m away. You. I’m never without you in thought, you need to know that. Please, I can’t have you thinking otherwise. You don’t understand, I used to sleep in the lab, because that was what would consume me, but now, every night, I come back. I come back to you. I know it isn’t much, but come back.” His eyes search yours with a wildness to be heard. 

You swallow at the guilty knot of bile in your throat, tear ducts miraculously stirring awake for duty.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “You’re right,” There it is again. “It has been worse lately— thinking of you, in all regards. Just as my absence has worse. It’s ignorant for me to think that simply picturing you is enough. I know it isn’t. I need to be present, I need to just be with you.”

Here he is, Viktor, taking a sledgehammer to those walls, the ones you didn’t use mortar to build because you hoped that he would knock through them in the first place. Here he is, Viktor, crushing that wretched flower under the sole of a worn dress shoe, hurrying it into a paper bag which he takes to the lab and promptly incinerates so that its pollen is to never spread again. 

His gaze softens, thankful, when he observes that the downwards draw of your lips, where they discolor at the transition to skin, have pulled back to equilibrium. Subtle, but still there all the same. He takes another breath, now slow, much more assured. 

“And I will be, just, please.” 

You give him a weak nod, you find no skepticism for what he’s saying, and so, you take him up on his offer, you do not speak, you just be.

You sigh softly as he presses his chin to your mound, looking back up at you with adoration in his eyes, rubbing your thighs and sides and pulling your legs apart, before pressing a soft kiss to your clit. His eyes shine with desperation, one that lusters with the earnest need to convince. “Now, may I?”

A bashful smile is what he gets, a hand cupping his face, which is the most you can give while all of the solitude-driven uncertainty dissipates from your soul.

He pushes your legs apart, settling between them, his mouth hovering over your folds, bathing it in warm, billowing breaths. He plants soft kisses against your clit.

You grab desperately for a fistful of his hair. 

He gasps, his mouth already parted, tongue lolling, desperation turning into something much deeper. His tongue is hot, the suction of his mouth nearly unbearable, he’s being sloppy, abandoning his practiced nature simply for this.

He pauses and looks at you, his eyes locking with yours, his breaths coming in sharp pants against you. "I need you," he shudders, his voice ragged, bearing the weight of deeper meaning. 

There’s something so endearing about stopping what he’s doing to ask for more when he could just continue and take it for himself, but god, he’s worked himself up now, your foot twitching against his back. 

“Look at me,” you murmur, and he stops abruptly mid stroke, tongue out and glued to you, massive needy eyes, hazy with both sickening lust and pleading awe. You stroke his temple with your knuckle, murmuring his name breathlessly, and letting out a strangled cry as he cages his arms around your legs and pulls you up to his face, the back of your thighs locked against his collarbones, simultaneously held up and pinned down under his lips. The sensation of fabric tugging under your spine catches your attention, your gaze moving to angular shoulders, down his back, decorated with quaint little moles. You jump from one point to the next, where you rediscover the dimples at the base of his spine, just above where he’s moving his hips in slow, uncoordinated circles against the sheets. Hands, satisfied with how your thighs have found balance on his shoulders, shift, thumbs coming to massage where your skin meets your core, pulling it apart softly so he can lick his own whimpers into you, nose nudging at the underside of your clit.

Utterly helpless, the two of you, as you tug and chocolate tendrils and every muscle, every tendon, every capillary goes stiff. 

He moans, his hands grabbing at your thighs and pulling you even closer, giving you no escape. He's panting and sweaty, hair stuck to his brow, ears slightly flushed. It’s just about the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. "Please love," he whines, his voice ragged and urgent, “Please, love, please come. I need it. I need to.”

His face nods rapidly as he speaks into our flesh, and you cry out, his tongue lapping now with a preciseness to cultivate your orgasm and care for it like it’s precious. And your body feels like it’s accelerating, through all the seasons, the biting of winter in the jolts of adrenaline coursing in between your thighs, the mugginess of summer in his hot tastebuds. His dark eyelashes flutter like birds migrating, and his noises are like the groan of an old tree’s branches resisting torrential rain. His eyes are as captivating as golden hour, the sun begging you to follow it down the edge of the earth so that it can illuminate you all over again at the next hemisphere, pleading that you come with him. So you do. Hard, and he follows suit, straight into the duvet.

You’re stretching for him, reaching out and staring until your hands wrap around his shoulders and you inadvertently dig your fingers into his armpits, pulling him up on top of you and holding his waist with your thighs. He nuzzles into your neck, bracing a few moments too late for the shockwave. Your stroke his hair and tell him it’s okay, and you nearly want to sob, trembling against one another, willing your nervous system to still. And he nods into your throat, soothing you back, clutching at you tightly, whispering it’s okay back to you softly.

He grounds you without thinking or trying, just being, adorning your neck with tender kisses. You kiss his temple back, tilting your chin down against your throat to look at him as he draws his head to the side to peer back up at you. And you’re faintly aware that the angle of your face is abysmal, probably, but you don’t care.

“Are you okay?” You both ask, simultaneously, and your arms tighten around him affectionately.

You both chuckle when you speak at the same time, and it’s such a silly, wonderful thing, a small, soft smile budding on his lips. He’s so still, simply watching you, like you’ve just watered his soul. 

“Love…?”

“Yes, my sweet?” You whisper quietly, pecking his nose.

He shushes you softly, presses a finger against your lips. “Let me. Let me tell you…” 

You laugh at whatever strange force has corralled you two into pleasant delirium.

“Tell me.. what?” You murmur.

He whispers, slowly bringing himself up onto his elbows, his breath warm against your cheek, “Everything.. just...” he trails off and presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth.

You rub his temples gently with your thumbs, fingers stretching over his ears and playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I know, love. You know that I know,” you coo. You let out a bashful, affectionate giggle as he rolls to the side, bringing you, your legs, still twined around him, with you. You kiss his mouth softly, then the spot between his eyebrows. “Do you know? That I also feel.. everything?”

“Yes… I do,” he sighs, and his eyes close, grazing the tip of his nose up and down the bridge of yours. It’s all so nonsensical, but the mutual understanding prevails.

“Then maybe we shouldn’t even attempt to find the words” You whisper, feeling some gravitational force pull your face right into his neck.

He nods, his hand coming up to swipe your hair out of the way, exposing the flesh of your shoulder, and he kisses you there, trailing kisses across your collarbone.

“You’re right,” he murmurs, just one last time.

You copy him, kissing his collarbone back, then his shoulder. He kisses your pulse point, so you do the same. When his lips land on your nose, it only takes a few seconds after they retract for yours to find his. And you continue this little exchange, the only language you need, back and forth, until drowsiness retires the two of you for the night. In your dreams, you weed out vines and thorny stems with gloveless fingers, vowing to only let the good things to grow.

[dior-luxury]

https://www.tumblr.com/dior-luxury/778931380458536960?source=share

Could you continue with the other characters please? It doesn't matter if it's random <3 I loved your work.💗😭

You Call Them A Different Name To Get Their Reaction

Pt.1

( ✧ ) ────── boyfriend stories . fluff/drama - she/her .

- [𝐜𝐡.] trey . jack . jade . kalim . epel . lilia

- [𝐩:𝐬] jealousy . some talk of physical fighting

Note: Thank you so much for enjoying my work anon!! (*¯ ³¯*)♡ And I shall do your request!

Trey Clover

Trey had always been the composed and easygoing type. He was the kind of boyfriend who didn’t get riled up easily, who always met your antics with a chuckle and a warm pat on the head. But today was different.

You had been lounging in the Heartslabyul common room, waiting for Trey to return from baking in the kitchen. The scent of fresh strawberry tarts lingered in the air when he finally walked in, wiping his hands on his apron.

"Here you go, made them just how you like," he said, setting the plate before you.

You grinned up at him, your heart warm with appreciation. "Thanks, Riddle!"

The silence was immediate. You didn’t even realize what you had said at first, too busy reaching for a tart. But when you noticed Trey standing still, his smile slightly frozen, your stomach dropped.

Riddle?

Your eyes widened. Oh. Oh no.

Trey let out a small chuckle, but there was something almost imperceptibly strained about it. "Riddle, huh?" he repeated, sitting across from you, his usual calm demeanor still present—just a little quieter than before.

You scrambled to explain. "No, wait, that was an accident! I wasn’t even thinking, I—"

He held up a hand, shaking his head. "Nah, I get it. You’ve been spending a lot of time with him lately. Guess my name just slipped your mind."

There was no outright anger in his voice, no bitterness. But the way his fingers lingered on the rim of his teacup, the slight downward tilt of his lips, told you that it did sting. Trey wasn’t the type to make a fuss, but that didn’t mean he was unaffected.

You reached across the table, taking his hand in both of yours. "Hey. I promise it was just a slip. There’s no one else but you, Trey. You know that, right?"

He looked at you for a long moment before finally exhaling and squeezing your hand back.

"Yeah… I know."

He smiled again, this time more genuine. But later that night, when he kissed you goodnight, there was something just a little more possessive in the way his lips lingered against yours—like he was silently reminding you of exactly who he was to you.

Jack Howl

Jack was a lot of things—stubborn, loyal, and fiercely protective of you. He wasn’t the kind of guy who let small things get to him. But this? This got to him.

You were in the courtyard after classes, talking to Jack about your day as he listened attentively, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

"And then Ace was being an idiot like usual, and Deuce—oh! Leona, can you believe he actually—"

You paused mid-sentence, your words catching in your throat. Jack’s ears, which had been relaxed just moments ago, twitched. Slowly, he turned his head to you, golden eyes narrowed slightly.

"What did you just call me?"

The weight of your mistake crashed down on you all at once. Your boyfriend’s name wasn’t Leona. It wasn’t even close.

"Jack! I meant Jack!" You held up your hands in a panic. "It was just a dumb mistake! I was thinking about how Leona skipped class again, and—"

But Jack had already turned away slightly, exhaling through his nose in that huffing way he did when he was trying to hold something back. His tail, usually so expressive, was still.

"I see."

Just two words, but they made you feel awful.

"Jack," you stepped closer, trying to see his face, but he kept looking away. "Come on, you know I’d never mix you two up. You’re you. No one else even compares."

He didn’t answer immediately. For a few long moments, the only sound between you was the rustling of the wind.

Then, he finally spoke. "...Do you like him?"

Your eyes widened. "What?! No! Jack, of course not!"

Jack was still for a moment before he finally let out a low sigh. "I know you didn’t mean it, but…" He rubbed the back of his head, ears still stiff with tension. "I don’t like it."

You stepped closer, pressing a hand against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath. "I don’t like that I made you feel this way," you whispered. "Jack, you're the only one for me. I swear it."

Jack studied you for a moment, then let out another breath—this time softer. He finally let his arms drop to wrap around your waist, pulling you into his warmth.

"...Alright," he muttered, pressing his forehead against yours. "Just don’t do it again."

Jade Leech

Jade was someone you could never quite predict. He was charming yet unsettling, affectionate yet always holding something back. And that was what made your mistake all the more dangerous.

It had been a peaceful afternoon in the Mostro Lounge, and you had been sitting at the bar while Jade prepared a special tea blend for you. His movements were graceful as always, his gloved hands handling the delicate porcelain with practiced ease.

"Here you are, my dear," he said, placing the cup before you with that ever-present smile.

"Thanks, Floyd," you said absentmindedly.

The moment the name left your lips, you felt it. A shift in the air. A silence that pressed down on you like the depths of the ocean.

You looked up slowly. Jade’s smile was still there. But his golden eye, sharp and assessing, gleamed with something unreadable.

"Oh?" His voice was smooth as silk, but there was something distinctly unsettling about the way he tilted his head. "Floyd, you say?"

Your stomach twisted. "Jade. I meant Jade."

He let out a quiet chuckle, his fingers tapping lightly against the counter. "How peculiar. Do I remind you of my dear twin, then?"

"No!" You waved your hands frantically. "It just slipped out, I swear!"

Jade leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on his hand. His expression was still pleasant, but his gaze was razor-sharp. "Hmm. I wonder what Floyd would say if I told him about this. You do seem quite fond of him, after all."

Your breath hitched. "Jade."

He chuckled again, clearly enjoying your distress. "Oh, don’t look so alarmed. I am merely teasing."

But there was something possessive in the way his fingers brushed against your wrist, something dangerously alluring in the way he murmured, "Still… I do wonder how I should punish you for this little slip."

You swallowed. "P-Punish?"

Jade smiled wider, leaning impossibly close, his breath ghosting over your ear.

"Relax, dear. I’ll simply have to remind you who I am."

And with that, he took your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles—soft, yet full of silent warning.

There would be no more mistakes after this. Not unless you wanted to see what lay beneath that polite, charming mask.

Would you dare let it slip again?

Kalim, Epel, and Lilia React to Their Girlfriend Calling Them a Different Name

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim was someone who exuded warmth like the desert sun—bright, energetic, and ever-loving. He never failed to shower you with affection, always bringing you little trinkets or inviting you on wild magic carpet rides just to hear you laugh.

So when you called him by another name—Jamil’s name, of all people—it was as if the sun had momentarily been eclipsed.

It happened during one of your regular visits to Scarabia, where Kalim had been showing off his newest imported sweets.

"Here, try this one! It’s made with real golden saffron—super rare!" Kalim beamed, holding a small pastry up to your lips.

You giggled, taking a bite. "Mmm! That’s amazing, Jamil!"

The second the name left your lips, the room went silent. You didn’t even realize what you had said until you noticed Kalim’s expression—his wide, ruby eyes blinking rapidly as if he had misheard.

"...Huh?" He let out a small, confused chuckle, scratching the back of his head. "Wait, what did you just call me?"

Your heart sank. "Kalim! I meant Kalim! It was an accident, I swear!"

But even though he was still smiling, there was something… off.

"You called me Jamil." His voice was softer now, almost hesitant. Not mad. Not even sad. Just—confused.

And that was the worst part. Because Kalim adored you with every fiber of his being, and it never even crossed his mind that you might think about someone else like that.

"I—It just slipped out!" You rushed to grab his hands. "You know I love you, Kalim. I wasn’t thinking. You’re the only one for me, I promise!"

He studied your face for a moment, and then—just like that—his blinding smile returned.

"Hehe, okay!"

Just like that?

You blinked. "Wait… you’re not mad?"

Kalim shook his head, squeezing your hands. "Nah, I know you didn’t mean it! Besides, if you were thinking about Jamil, maybe it’s because he’s been helping you with something, right?"

You almost wanted to cry from how pure he was.

But then his grip tightened just a little. His smile was still warm, but there was a flicker of something unreadable in his usually carefree gaze.

"Still… I wanna make sure you’re always thinking about me, y'know?" Kalim leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. "So how about I spend even more time with you? That way, you won’t even have the chance to mix me up with someone else!"

His laughter rang in your ears like golden bells, and suddenly, you realized—you might have just signed up for never having a moment alone again.

Epel Felmier

Epel had always been fighting against people’s assumptions about him—his delicate features, his small frame, the way others (Vil) constantly made him practice "refined manners." So when you—his girlfriend, the person who was supposed to see him for who he truly was—accidentally called him the wrong name, it hit him harder than he wanted to admit.

You two had been hanging out in the botanical garden, resting against one of the large apple trees. The air smelled of fresh fruit, and Epel had just finished carving a wooden trinket for you with his pocket knife.

"Here." He placed the small wolf carving in your palm, a faint blush on his cheeks. "Made it for ya. Thought you’d like it."

Your heart melted at the sight of it. "Epel, this is beautiful! You’re amazing—seriously, Vil should let you show off your skills more!"

Epel scoffed, crossing his arms. "Hah, like he’d ever—"

"Right, Rook?"

Silence.

Epel’s whole body tensed. His grip on his knife twitched. You, on the other hand, immediately felt your soul leave your body.

"I meant Epel!" You blurted out in a panic. "Epel, Epel, Epel!"

His violet eyes snapped to yours, narrowed and sharp like a predator who had just been challenged. "Tch. Rook?" His voice was low, unreadable. "So ya think I’m like him now?"

You grabbed his hands. "No! I don’t even know why I said that—I was just thinking about how he always praises you, and it just—just slipped out!"

Epel clicked his tongue, clearly irritated. "Hmph." He pulled away, standing up and shoving his hands into his pockets. "That’s real annoyin’, y'know?"

You felt horrible. "Epel…"

For a moment, you thought he might storm off. But instead, he turned his back to you, exhaling sharply before muttering:

"I gotta make sure you see me as me—not anyone else."

The next thing you knew, he was pulling you up into his arms, pressing a heated, almost desperate kiss against your lips. His hands gripped your waist, and when he finally pulled back, his breath was ragged.

"There," he muttered, his face flushed but determined. "Now you won’t forget who I am."

And with that, he stomped off—probably to go punch a tree or something.

Lilia Vanrouge

You should have known calling Lilia the wrong name was dangerous.

The moment the name "Malleus" left your lips, you swore the entire atmosphere of the room changed.

Lilia had been casually floating upside down in your room, strumming his guitar when you had absentmindedly asked:

"Hey, Malleus, can you hand me that book?"

The strings of his guitar let out a warped, discordant twang.

Slowly, he flipped right-side up, his glowing red eyes peering at you with eerie amusement.

"…Malleus?" Lilia repeated, his tone light and playful—but oh no, oh no, oh no, something about it sent a chill down your spine.

Your breath caught. "I-I meant Lilia! LILIA! It was a mistake, I swear!"

Lilia tilted his head, his fangs peeking from his smirk. "Fufufu~ how interesting… I didn’t realize my little human had such a wandering mind."

He vanished.

Your stomach dropped. "Lilia?"

Suddenly, cold fingers brushed against the back of your neck.

"Right here, darling~"

You spun around, only for him to disappear again, reappearing behind you with a chuckle. "How careless of you to let another name slip, hm?"

"Lilia, please—!"

He let out a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over his chest. "Ah, what is an old fae to do? Must I remind you exactly who your boyfriend is?"

Before you could respond, Lilia scooped you up effortlessly, twirling you in the air before pinning you against the nearest wall, his smirk widening at your flustered expression.

"Hm, yes, I think some proper discipline is in order~"

You gulped. Oh, you were in danger.

And knowing Lilia, he was going to make sure you never made that mistake again.

[noreasontobebland]

Rafayel x Black Reader

CW/// Raf has a slight mommy kink(sorry but he so gives the vibe), Eating Pussy, Raf has a dirty mouth, Fingering, Tounge fucking, messy pussy eating

I’m a Firm Believer All LADS Men Don’t Mind If You Didn’t Shave/Wax Yet, But Rafayel Actually Prefers If You Don’t

“Why do you get so sensitive over something so pointless? You humans are so vain.”

It came to you as a shock to see Rafayel doesn’t seem to mind when you forgot to go to your waxing appointment. Not that he’s ever shown you he cared too much about your looks. He always made you feel like the only woman in the world that matters which would be true.

He loves you at your lowest when you feel like you look terrible for those days your body is aching and your hair ain’t done, and when you pretty yourself up.

However Rafayel was always the pretty boy, even when he was dramatically ill on those nights he was at his weakest he looked so …majestic, he didn’t have any body hair either, he doesn’t grow much so you often caught yourself comparing how smoother his skin was to yours.

Silly, but true.

“I’m going tomorrow for my appointment. When I come back I’m all yours.”

“So you hate me.”

“What?”

He smacks his teeth, arms crossed. He really did not understand the big deal of your pubic hair and why you tend to remove it. Though he’d never judge you about it or question you, because he supports you regardless he will give you an earful on why he loves it.

“It shouldn’t matter if there is hair down there.” Rafayel’s voice drops down as he crawls between your legs, placing your hand to cup his cheek, a habit he has grown to do when he seeks the warmth and comfort of your hands. You seem to melt everytime with this tactic.

Oh if your little fishy only knew how cat-like he really acts.

“Please ….mommy…?”

Your breath gets caught in your throat, he immediately went for a low blow that you should have seen coming, but it’s pretty rare he calls you that nickname. You huff at him, trying to keep your gaze at the beautiful dark blue sky reflecting off the water that evening, but Rafayel doesn’t stop, he turns your face back to him.

One hand on his cheek, and the other being guided down his neck, bare chest, down under the band of his bottoms to let your feel his dick practically grow in the center of your palm. You sink further into his cushy couch, his breath fanning over your lips.

“Please, I know I can make you feel good….i always do…”

“Raf…I’m…”

“Last time I made you cum twice. ….Then your body was practically crying out for more…you had some hair then and I loved how you felt grinding your pussy against my mouth I—-Besides I was more focus on that cute little clit of yours…She tasted so good—-“

“Rafie!” You moaned out his name to stop his talking, thinking about his own sweet noises he make when he eats you out, his indescribable soft lips against yours, and the way he makes out with your lower body sends a chill down your spine.

Lost in thought was officially broken when you felt your shorts being tugged on. The cool sea breeze hitting your clothed cunt you had squeezed your thighs but your boyfriend was stronger than you in every way prying them open to lay comfortably on his stomach between your legs.

You grimace a little seeing that some of your pubic hair was sticking out of your panties, and Rafayel didn’t seem to care his cheek laid on your warm inner thigh, tracing mindless shapes on your pussy and making small circles when he reaches you clit, “I’ll be quick? You don’t even have to look at me this time.”

“Yes you do.”

“Okay I do, but only if you don’t wanna look.”

He managed to crack a smile out of you, quite literally laughing you out of your panties seeing that your panties were now in his back pocket.

“You—-“

“Just say the word and I’ll stop….”

You really DIDN’T want him to stop…you’ve felt just as needy as him, but the hair you have now is almost turning into a bush, but the insecurity began melting away when Rafayel looked at you, then your pussy, licked his lips then looked back at you.

“I promise it’ll feel so good…plus I can smell you, you’re wet as hell—-“

“ALRIGHT—-AAH~”

Your horny fishie wasted no time pushing back the hood of your cli to suckle on, he began swiveling his head back and fourth, moaning and humming with satisfaction of eating you out.

….it was kind of hot, but also bizarre how much he didn’t care about your hair.

It didn’t take long for him to really prove it when he pushed your legs back against your chest and dived back in, his thumbs opening up your labia wider to tongue fuck you.

“This—-“ your words are broken in whimpers, “is so…embarrassing—-Raf!”

“Maybe for you…” He gave a harsh pop to your clit to punctuate his sentence, “But your pussy feels so good against my mouth, and you taste really good too…see look…your clenching.”

“STOP!”

“Uh uh…” Rafayel pouted and shook his head no in between your lower lips, as if what he wasn’t doing wasn’t lewd enough he brought two fingers to circle your clit while he plunges his tongue back in your weeping hole.

“Mmmmmmnghhh! Rafayel please…please don’t….dont stop!” Throwing your head back with little room you try reaching out for something and he immediately knew what you wanted so he went back to sucking on your clit to free his hand to interlock with yours as you came in his tongue.

His mouth followed the rhythm of your hips as you rode off your high, singing his name out loud and praising him, the hair began to rub against his mouth and it felt so good to the Lumerian boy he almost began to overstimulate you on accident by letting go of your hand to hold up your ass and rub against you more.

“See. Told you I’d make you feel good….now stop feeling like you need to shave…it’s stupid.”