#or just stare at you as you chase someone

[enhani-ki]

fuckboy!ni-ki x reader ᡣ𐭩｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

warnings: smut, nsfw, cursing, mentions of killing, etc.

read part two here

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki likes to lie and waste time.

a game player, smooth talker, and a liar when it suited him.

ni-ki knew exactly what to say to get what he wanted. he'd tell a girl she was the only one, that she was special, that he couldn't stop thinking about her, only to turn around and send the same message to someone else.

when he got what he wanted? he gets bored.

it was always the same: a few weeks, maybe a month if they were lucky, then he'd just start pulling away. no more sweet words, no more playful texts, it's dry responses and distance until they finally took the hint.

girls will cry, get angry, some even tried to plot revenge... but ni-ki? he never felt guilty.

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki doesn't believe in love.

he won't date and won't do relationships. he wasn't interested doing those late-night calls or good-morning texts, and the thought of commitment made him want to laugh.

he just likes a little flirting, a little fun, love songs, fucking then moving on before things got too serious.

they liked the chase, thinking they could be the one to change him, and the idea of being the exception.

but there are no exceptions. he'd rather catch a body than catch feelings for somebody he barely knows.

ni-ki was always clear about what he wanted, even if they refused to believe him.

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki was impatient.

he's leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, and tight jaw. his fuck buddy is late and he hates waiting. it's not his style to sit around for anyone.

he sighed, running a hand through his hair. then, he spotted a familiar silhouette approaching.

finally.

and without hesitation, he reached out, grabbed your wrist, and pulled you into the shadows.

"you took your sweet time." he muttered, his lips brushing against your ear, whispering. "i should make you pay for making me wait, don't you think?" then ni-ki started talking dirty.

and your body in his grasp stiffened.

ni-ki smirked. he loves it when someone gets shy because of him but something was off.

there's no giggle or eager hands slipping on his body.

only silence.

ni-ki pulled back, his eyes locked on your wide, terrified eyes.

you're a face he had never seen before.

"who the fuck are you?!" he blurted out.

"i- i'm sorry!" you stammered, breathing heavily in shock.

ni-ki's mouth opened to say something but before he could, you ran away, you ran so fast that your belongings spilled onto the floor in your rush to escape.

ni-ki cursed under his breath, running a hand down his face.

fuck.

not only he's not gonna have sex but he also accidentally just harassed a complete stranger.

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki got mad, completely ghosting and blocked his fuck buddy's number.

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki wasn't the type to dwell on things. if he ever made a mistake, he moved on. simple.

what happened with you? that bothered him.

maybe it was the way your eyes looked at him, it was pure fear, like he was some kind of monster... or maybe it was because he had never been the kind of guy to force himself onto someone.

he's cocky, sure. shameless, absolutely.

but he never needed to resort to shit like that and now, he just left a random girl traumatized.

great.

ni-ki took your abandoned things from his bag, staring at them in irritation. he could've just tossed this somewhere and let you deal with it, but it's the least he could do, right?

he looked for you everywhere and when he finally spotted you walking down the hall, he didn't hesitate.

"hey."

your body stiffened instantly when you saw him, you gulped and turned to leave.

ni-ki rolled his eyes and reached out, catching your wrist before you could escape. "relax," he sighed. "i'm just here to give you these…"

you hesitated but quickly grabbed your things and muttered, "thanks."

he let go but he's also expecting you to run again though he's not letting you off easily.

his fingers wrapped around your wrist again, "i'm not done..." he said. "why are you in such a hurry?"

"i gotta go…"

"oh, really?" ni-ki scoffed but released his grip. "fine. look, i'm sorry about earlier. i thought you were someone else."

"your girlfriend?"

ni-ki chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "no, i don't do girlfriends." he teased but it wasn't meant to joke or seduce. "you forgive me?"

you smiled slightly before nodding but then you tilted your head, curious. "...but why would you say something like that to someone who isn't your girlfriend?"

he smirked and leaned in again, so close you could smell his cologne.

"mind your own business, won't you?" he said and walked away.

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki found you at his playground.

parties were all the same. loud music, flashing lights, people pressed up against each other like they forgot what personal space was.

ni-ki was used to it, it's his playground.

he's sitting with his friends, a smirk on his face while some girl clung to his arm, twirling her hair and giggling at everything he said, even though he wasn't even trying to be funny.

"so, ni-ki..." she purred, leaning in close, "when are we getting out of here?"

ni-ki exhaled through his nose, he's not in the mood yet and ready to give a half-assed answer until his eyes flickered to the entrance where you walked in.

huh.

you walked in, looking... insanely good wearing a dress that hugged all the right places. it made ni-ki's fuck boy brain short-circuit for a second.

the girl beside him was still talking, but he wasn't listening. his smirk twitched and his interest became completely derailed.

"wait here..." ni-ki muttered, removing the girl's arms off of him without another word.

she sputtered in protest but ni-ki was already gone, slipping through the crowd, with eyes locked on you.

he "accidentally" bumped into you, almost knocking you off balance. his hands instinctively gripped your waist to steady you.

"wow… you're-"

you covered yourself quickly, your arms crossing over your chest, and sent him a glare before he could even think about finishing that sentence

"what do you want?" you asked, unimpressed.

he blinked, momentarily thrown off.

"nothing." he recovered quickly, slipping his hands back into his pockets.

you sighed. "have you seen my friend, f/n?"

ni-ki shook his head. "i have no idea who that is," he admitted, then quickly added, "i'll help you look."

his hand landed on your shoulder but you instantly shrugged it. ni-ki scoffed at your unfriendly action, "seriously?" he asked, rolling his eyes but followed anyway, trailing beside you like he's trying to find his friend too.

he was enjoying himself, honestly.

his eyes kept drifting to you. the way your hips swayed slightly as you walked, the way your hair swung when you turned your head... it was so distracting and ni-ki found himself grinning.

he wasn't even gonna try to flirt anymore, he was just thrilled to be by your side.

you stopped in a less crowded part of the house, scanning the room, then you were pulling at your dress subtly, adjusting the hem like you're clearly uncomfortable.

ni-ki clicked his tongue "w- why are you wearing that if you're uncomfortable?"

you turned to him sharply, eyes narrowing. "why do you care?!"

"why are you so mad at me?"

"'cause i don't know what you're trying to do."

"i'm not trying do do anything to you!"

you glared at him again, adjusting your dress.

"tch." ni-ki removed his jacket and threw it at your face.

"what the hell-"

ni-ki rolled his eyes, already regretting being nice. "wear that, idiot."

you hesitated.

he sighed and turned away, "do whatever you want."

you slipped the jacket over your shoulders then ni-ki peeked at you from the corner of his eyes where he saw you practically drowning in his jacket. you looked so tiny in it, he had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling.

you finally spotted your friend near the drinks table, "f/n!" you called out, relieved.

your friend turned with a smile then her eyes immediately widened when she saw who was standing beside you.

"oh. my. God." she gasped, barely even acknowledging you because she's looking at ni-ki.

ni-ki smirked at her reaction, clearly used to it. "hi. what's up?"

you friend actually looked starstruck for a second before shaking herself out of it.

"why are you with him?" she whisper-yelled at you, leaning in like you just brought home a stray cat but the dangerous kind.

"he just helped me find you." you replied, and without another word, you grabbed her arm and practically dragged her toward the exit.

"bye, ni-ki!" your friend waved at him.

ni-ki chuckled, grinning while watching the two of you rush off.

as soon as you and your friend stepped outside, she immediately started her interrogation, eyes gleaming.

"okay," she breathed, grabbing your shoulders. "do you know how many girls would kill to be in your position?!"

you groaned. "it's not what you think!"

she gasped, dramatically covering her mouth. "wait… did you do it?"

you blinked. "what do you mean by it?"

she wiggled her eyebrows and giggled, playfully slapping your arm. "you know what I mean~"

you eyes widened in disgust. "i would never do it with anyone!"

she laughed as you pushed her lightly, still giggling like a schoolgirl.

"okay, okay, i believe you..." she teased. "but still, damn. ni-ki even gave you his jacket?"

she said, snatching the sleeve of the jacket and sniffed it.

you grabbed it back.

she gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest. "it smells expensive… sexy, actually."

you gave her a disgusted look again and tightened the jacket around you, trying to ignore the fact that, yeah, it did smell good.

"don't get so weird about this." you warned.

she only laughed, linking her arm through yours. "now tell me more about you and ni-ki."

"there is no me and ni-ki!"

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki suddenly wants to prove that he wasn't actually the asshole you thought he was but ended messing it up.

he told himself it was over. he gave back your stuff, apologized (which, honestly, he never did for anyone), even gave you his jacket, and that should've been the end of it.

he tried not to be pushy 'cause he knew better now, but he still found ways to be around you. if he saw you at school, he'd just give a casual nod. if you were in the cafeteria, he'd sit nearby, pretending it was a coincidence. and if you caught him looking, you'd glare and he would quickly look away.

he was used to people chasing him, used to girls who always wants something from him, not someone who wanted nothing to do with him. and when you made it clear, he said "you really think the worst of me, huh?"

you crossed your arms. "can you blame me?"

ni-ki huffed a laugh. "i don't even do shit to you."

but then, you might just be playing hard to get, right?

he smirked, grabbing your phone and held it high.

"ni-ki, i swear- give it back!"

you jumped, reaching for it, but he was way taller. he tilted his head, watching you struggle, and then...

fuck it.

because he's ni-ki, he's reckless, stupid and didn't think things through... he kissed you.

it was quick, barely even a brush of lips.

he pulled back, expecting a reaction, but not the one he got.

your face twisted in disbelief before you hit him.

you smacked his chest repeatedly, pushing him, "what is wrong with you?! that was my first kiss, stupid!"

ni-ki's eyes widened. "wait- what? seriously?"

you fought back your tears, shoving him one last time before storming off. "don't talk to me ever again!"

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki is doing something completely out of character.

he didn't plan to kiss you. it just happened like some dumb, impulsive thought he acted on before his brain could catch up.

he wanted to reach out but what the hell was he even supposed to say?

"hey, my bad for stealing your first kiss lol?"

"i didn't think it'd be that big of a deal."

"wait, you really never kissed anyone before?"

shit, no. that was all dumb as hell.

for the next few days, ni-ki is not being himself.

he forgot his usual girls, he hadn't even been with anyone ever since he met you.

"dude, what's up with you?" one of his friends asked.

ni-ki just shrugged, flipping his phone in his hands. "nothing."

you were avoiding him like he was some virus. you look the other way when he walked past or really refusing to even glance in his direction.

so, fine. he swallowed his pride and showed up at your house.

you opened the door, immediately frowning when you saw him. "what do you want?"

ni-ki exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck.

"i'm sorry, alright?" he said quickly. "i was being an idiot, i didn't think, and..."

"you're apologizing?"

ni-ki groaned, shoving his hands in his pockets. "yeah..."

you crossed your arms, unimpressed. "took you long enough."

he sighed, stepping closer. "i didn't know it was your first kiss..."

you rolled your eyes, "whatever."

then ni-ki hugged you.

you gasped, trying to make him let go. "what- what are you doing?!"

ni-ki just chuckled, resting his chin on your shoulder. "saying sorry?"

"by hugging me?!"

"would you rather i kiss you again?"

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!"

he laughed again, pulling back slightly to look at your flustered expression.

you scowled. "you're such a pervert."

his smirk returned, teasing. "you liked being hugged though."

you smacked his chest hard. "GO HOME, NI-KI."

he grinned, backing away "but we're good now, right?"

you didn't answer, just slammed the door in his face.

ni-ki chuckled to himself, breathing in relief as he walked away.

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki is trying his best to please you... and hold himself back from being a fuck boy.

ni-ki has a serious problem. these days, he found himself doing things that were completely out of character.

like waiting outside your classroom when he swore he was just going to pass by, remembering your usual order at the café near school and handing it to you in front of everyone like it was no big deal, and making sure you got home safe after study sessions.

he wasn't even trying to get anything out of it because for once in his life, he actually wanted to do things the right way. he wanted to get a girlfr- girl friend. a friend that's a girl. that's all.

totally normal. nothing weird.

but it's so frustrating because you weren't even making it easy for him.

you still roll your eyes at him when he tried to be nice. you still gave him unimpressed looks when he offered to carry your things. and the other day, when he casually said you looked cute, you hit him with a deadpan, "what do you want?"

like, damn. he was actually trying here.

then… you'll also do things that completely messed him up.

your cheeks puff out whenever you concentrate, making him desperately want to bite them.

or how we would notice your tits slightly jiggle and move whenever you're running or simply writing. suddenly, he would have to leave the room for fresh air.

when you got mad at him, all fiery and stubborn, he had the worst urge to just shut you up, not in a way that was appropriate for a friend.

ni-ki groaned, running a hand down his face.

his first thought?

"God, i wanna touch."

his second thought?

"i need help."

you left something at school. suddenly, he showed up at your door, handing your things back along with a bottle of your favorite drink.

you looked at him confused, ni-ki rolled his eyes, pushing the bag into your hands.

"you… bought this for me?"

"don't be weird!" he grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "just take it."

you stared at him for a long moment before stepping aside. "you wanna come in?"

ni-ki shook his head, he knew himself. he knew that the second he got too comfortable, his usual instincts would kick in... he would start flirting, the way he always found a way to get what he wanted.

instead of smirking and stepping inside like he usually would, he just shoved his hands in his pockets, exhaling.

"nah," he said. "i'll just see you tomorrow, okay?"

a small smile formed at your lips. "thanks, ni-ki."

he turned away quickly, waving a hand over his shoulder while his heart raced so fast. "welcome."

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki who can't figure out if you're just a damsel in distress or actually bossing him around

ni-ki likes to think he's a pretty capable guy. he's used to girls needing him for things... carrying their bags, opening their drinks, giving them rides home. he didn't mind. it boosted his ego.

but every time you asked for his help, he couldn't tell if you were actually helpless or if you're just treating him like some personal assistant.

you handed him your backpack without a word while texting on your phone.

ni-ki blinked. "uh… am i supposed to carry this?"

"yeah." you replied without even looking at him.

"…please?"

you gave him a look. "i could say please, but you're already holding it."

then later you stared at a vending machine like it had personally offended you.

"what, it didn't give you your snack?"

"no..." you huffed, crossing your arms. "it won't take my bill."

ni-ki sighed, pulling out his own money and sliding in a new bill. the machine beeped, and he pressed your selection.

the the snack dropped, you grabbed it, turned on your heel, and walked away.

the way you pouted when you struggled with something, how your brows furrowed in concentration, the tiny pleased smile you gave when things worked out in your favor... it pleased him too.

so when you showed up next to him one day, shaking your phone with an exaggerated sigh, ni-ki already knew what was coming.

"my phone is dead," you said.

he smiled "finally."

you glared, "give me your charger."

ni-ki scoffed in disbelief. "you don't even pretend to be polite anymore!"

you pouted. "please?"

his eye twitched. you're so annoying. cute but mostly annoying.

ni-ki pulled out his charger and handed it to you. "i swear, don't lose it."

"i never lose things." you said, already plugging it in.

"liar." he shook his head. "you lost your AirPods case last week."

you laughed and waved him off. "that was one time."

ni-ki smiled, he felt that stupid warmth creep up his neck again when he heard your laugh.

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki asked you to work out with him.

you regret this.

you had never worked out before but when ni-ki said, "come on, i'll go easy on you." you refused to back down.

big mistake.

now, here you are, struggling to breathe properly while ni-ki, just finished another set of weights, stood there looking like some Greek god.

sweat clung to his skin, his black shirt sticking slightly to his toned torso. his hair was pushed back from his forehead and sharp jawline got even more defined.

you gulped.

then he caught you staring. his lips curled into a grin. "like what you see?"

you quickly looked away. "shut up."

he only laughed.

later, back in your room, you are dying.

your muscles ached in places you didn't even know existed. you lay on your bed, groaning while ni-ki sat next to you, arms crossed.

"you're overreacting." he said.

"you tricked me," you accused. "you said you'd go easy."

"i did!" he defended, snickering.

you groaned again, moving slightly only to wince at the soreness in your legs.

ni-ki smiled. "want a massage?"

you looked at him. "you give massages?"

he smirked. "i'm really good with my hands."

you squinted and he laughed. ni-ki began to straddle your back, hands pressing into your tense shoulders.

the moment he started kneading your muscles, your body melted.

"oh… that's so good…" you whispered, voice airy.

ni-ki chuckled. "i am good, huh?"

"ah, ye- yeah, it feels so good." you mumbled, already slipping into a relaxed haze.

ni-ki's hands stilled for a second.

your voice sounded… weirdly suggestive.

he bit back a laugh. he knew you were just tired, but hearing you say that in such a soft, breathy tone? hmm.

he kept massaging, feeling the tension slowly leave your body. it wasn't long before your breathing evened out.

"…did you just fall asleep?" he muttered.

silence.

ni-ki shook his head, you looked so peaceful, face slightly turned to the side, lips parted slightly.

his eyes trailed to your exposed neck, ni-ki's heart pounded while reaching out, gently brushing your hair aside.

and before he could stop himself, he leaned in, pressing soft, featherlight kisses along the curve of your nape up to your neck.

your body reacted on instinct, tilting slightly, giving him more access.

a soft, sleepy moan escaped your lips.

ni-ki's eyes widened, heart slamming against his ribs.

"…a- are you awake?" he asked.

silence.

panic surged through him. he quickly grabbed the blanket and draped it over you, standing up so fast he nearly tripped.

ni-ki ran home and the second his front door swung open, he stumbled inside, slamming it shut behind him. his fingers went straight to the waistband of his sweatpants, tugging at it while his mind still clouded with you.

the soft moan you let out, the way your body naturally tilted into his touch, the warmth of your skin beneath his lips.

his jaw clenched as he glanced down at cock, his sweatpants doing a poor job at hiding the evidence of just how badly he was losing control.

ni-ki groaned, balling his fists, fighting the instinct to just take care of it.

he grabbed his phone, scrolling through his contacts.

the phone barely rang before a familiar, flirty voice answered.

"hey, ni-"

"how fast can you get here?"

the girl on the other end giggled. "mhm, about 30, 40 minutes-"

click. that's too late.

ni-ki exhaled sharply, tossing his phone onto his bed. his hand ran through his hair, feeling the frustration throughout his body. he pulled his sweatpants back up, shaking off the temptation.

and even though he had just worked out, he grabbed a set of weights and dropped to the floor, blasting music at full volume.

push-ups. sit-ups. anything to burn the tension off.

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki looked like shit the next day.

you burst out laughing the moment you saw him.

he looked rough. dark circles under his eyes, hair a mess, slouched in his chair like he barely made it out of bed.

"what happened to you?" you grinned, poking his arm.

ni-ki groaned, brushing you off. "it's your fault."

"wha- my fault? what did i do?"

he turned his head away, eyes shutting like he couldn't even look at you right now. "just… drop it."

you leaned in, pushing him playfully. "come on, tell meee." you pouted. "fine, then at least let me make it up to you! what can I do?"

ni-ki scoffed, tilting his head back against the chair. "there's nothing you can do."

when class ended and you followed him towards the gym storage room.

"ni-ki!" you called, slipping inside right behind him.

he turned around just as the door slammed shut. the click of the lock echoed through the small space.

"…are you kidding me?" ni-ki muttered.

you tried the handle. locked.

ni-ki groaned, he sat and started rubbing his face. "i really don't have the energy for this right now."

you stepped in front of him, with hands on your hips. "you seriously won't tell me what's wrong?"

and instead of answering, ni-ki suddenly reached out, gripping your waist and pulling you close.

you froze as he rested his head against your stomach, arms wrapped around you.

"just shut up, will you?" he murmured, voice muffled against your shirt.

you brought your hand to his hair, your fingers brushing the strands. you began to comb through them slowly, your touch gentle and rhythmic.

his body relaxed against you, the tension in his grip softening. ni-ki hummed.

you began to smile while playing with his hair, twirling a few strands between your fingers before smoothing them out.

it's sweet... but your legs were starting to ache.

"okay... maybe just a little longer." you thought, shifting your weight slightly to ease the pressure on your feet.

ni-ki didn't move. if anything, his grip on your hips tightened, like a sleepy child clutching a favorite pillow.

your legs began to tremble faintly, you hoped ni-ki would notice.

but nothing, he was like a cat curled up in the perfect sunbeam.

you sighed quietly, glancing down at him. your hands still in his hair as you debated your options. "maybe if i lean a little, he'll..."

ni-ki let out a low hum, his grip loosening just slightly as he shifted his head. for a split second, you thought your prayer had been answered, until he wrapped his arms fully around your waist, pulling you down to his lap.

"ni-ki!" you hissed, barely catching yourself with your hands as you stumble forward.

his eyes cracked open, a sleepy smirk tugging at his lips. "why are you so tense?"

"because you're treating me like a body pillow!"

"you're comfy."

you groaned, glaring at the top of his head. ni-ki added "you should've leave me alone." the smirk of his returned as his arms tightened around you once more.

"you know..." he began, "let's just skip class, you wanna sleep with me?"

your eyes widened, your brain short-circuiting at his words. "wha-what do you mean sleep with you?" you stuttered, leaning back instinctively.

ni-ki flicked your forehead lightly, his smirk growing. "not like that, you idiot." he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "i meant just sleeping. me, you, sleeping here. eyes closed. that's it."

you laughed awkwardly. "right..."

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki realized that he doesn't want to be your friend.

ni-ki got annoyed the second you started talking about jungwon. he had just introduced him but he noticed the way your eyes stared at his friend.

ni-ki subtly stepped in front of your view, blocking jungwon from your sight.

"hey! move!" you hissed, trying to peer around him.

and instead of budging, ni-ki covered your eyes with his hands.

"what the?!" you immediately grabbed at his wrists, struggling.

he kept his hands firmly in place, waiting until his jungwon hyung was completely out of sight.

and when he finally let go, you blinked, looking around. "where is he?"

ni-ki smirked. "i killed him."

you smacked his arm.

later, he was sitting on his bed while you lounged across from him, "he was really nice," you said, kicking your feet. "and kinda cute too, like a cat don't you think?"

"who do you like better, me or him?"

you blinked, confused. "what kind of question is that?"

"just answer."

"i like you," you said casually. "as my friend."

ni-ki scoffed. maybe he did want to be your friend before but that isn't the case anymore.

"i'm not your friend."

"yes, you are."

ni-ki grabbed your face with both hands, tilting your head up before slamming his lips onto yours, aggressively like he was trying to erase every thought you had of jungwon. "friends don't do this."

rough and desperate, his fingers pressed into your cheeks as he devoured your mouth, refusing to let you breathe while angling your head exactly how he wanted..

you gripped his shoulders, a muffled gasp escaping your lips as he deepened the kiss.

but ni-ki wasn't just kissing you, he was already claiming you.

he groaned against your lips, hands sliding to the back of your neck. holding you in place like he didn't want you slipping away and the second your lips parted slightly, he will deepen the kiss even more, biting at your bottom lip like he wanted to ruin you.

and when ni-ki finally pulled away, his lips were already swollen.

"you were saying?" ni-ki muttered, still holding your face.

you stared at him, breathless, lips tingling.

"…huh?"

he smirked, wiping his thumb over your lower lip before leaning in again.

"that's what i thought."

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki can't keep his hands off you.

you used to slap his hands away.

his arm over your shoulder? gone.

sneaking his hands around your waist? not happening.

grabbing your wrist to pull you closer? absolutely not.

but after the kiss, you started letting him and ni-ki noticed... of course, he did.

the first time you didn't push him away when he rested an arm around your shoulders, he almost did a double take.

you also didn't immediately escape when he pulled you onto his lap and when he linked his fingers with yours? he was expecting you to smack his hands, but you didn't.

"you're getting too comfortable," you muttered, feeling the warmth of his palm against yours.

ni-ki only smirked, giving your hand a squeeze.

"you're spoiling me, you know." he murmured against your ear, his breath sending a shiver down your spine. "if you keep this up, i'll start thinking you actually like me."

you scoffed, pushing his face half-heartedly.

ni-ki chuckled, leaning in like he was about to kiss you again. you froze, expecting the warmth of his lips- but he only brushed his nose against yours.

he pulled back, satisfied at the way you reacted. "see?"

your cheeks burned, frustration bubbling in your chest. you freed yourself from his grip and walked away, annoyed.

ni-ki watched you go with amusement. "where are you going?"

"far away from you."

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki ready to be yours.

"go put on a nice dress." ni-ki said over the phone.

you raised a brow. "why?"

he grinned. "because we're going to a restaurant."

you narrowed your eyes. "we are?"

"yeah." replied. "i made a reservation."

you got ready anyway. and when you stepped out in your dress, ni-ki scanned you up and down, "pretty." he murmured, before grabbing your hand and leading you outside.

before you both enter the restaurant, he suddenly intertwined his fingers with yours, "this is a date, okay?" he said, watching your reaction.

you blinked, caught off guard. "a what?"

ni-ki just grinned and dragged you inside.

your eyes widened as you looked around the table. all your favorite foods were there, plated beautifully under the dim, warm lights.

you turned to him, speechless.

ni-ki simply pulled out a chair for you, nodding at the seat.

the dinner was nice. way more than nice. he talked, he listened, and laughed with you.

"is this real? are you actually asking me out?"

"yes," ni-ki said, nodding. "i'm serious."

your chest tightened. you wanted to believe him but a part of you was scared.

what if he change his mind? what if you let yourself fall, only for him to break your heart once you bit into it?

ni-ki noticed your hesitation. he hated that you had to doubt him but he can't also blame why, though he wasn't just playing around.

he reached for your hand, bringing it to his lips. "just a bit more of your trust, okay?" he whispered against your skin.

you stared at him for a moment before finally leaning in to hug him.

he held you close, his lips curving against your shoulder. "you were mine the first time i kissed you."

you pulled back and laughed, playfully slapping his arm as you remembered how he stole your first kiss.

at his house, ni-ki captured your lips in a slow, passionate kiss. his mouth moved against yours, savoring every moment. he then pressed soft kisses along your jaw and down the column of your neck.

he found that sensitive spot that made you moan, he latched on and sucked harder, relishing the sound of your pleasure.

ni-ki started guiding you towards his bedroom, never breaking the kiss. once inside, he gently laid you down the bed, his body still pressed against yours.

he looked up at you with intense desire in his eyes, he asked breathlessly, "can i?" his eyes flicked down to your heaving chest.

you nodded, granting him permission. ni-ki didn't hesitate, slipping his hands under your shirt to fondle and tease your sensitive nipples through the thin fabric of your bra.

you arched into his touch, panting softly. he swallowed down your needy moans as he devoured your lips again, his tongue delving deep to clash against yours.

"friends won't do this, right?" ni-ki gasped between heated kisses. he tugged your shirt up and over your head, tossing it aside. his mouth moved, licking and sucking at your bare breasts.

your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him against you as he lavished all attention on your tits.

then ni-ki trailed kisses down to your stomach. hooking his fingers in your panties, he groaned at feeling soaked folds. "fuck, you're so wet for me already," he murmured, tracing his finger along your slit.

he buried his face between your thighs and began eating you out with your panties on. the fabric added delicious friction when his mouth sucked the sensitive bud, lapping at your clit.

you cried out, ni-ki removed your panties. the first swipe of his tongue directly on your pussy made you both moan. you taste even better than he imagined.

ni-ki growled. diving in for more like a starving man. his talented mouth had you writhing and gasping within moments.

he couldn't help but picture how tightly your virgin pussy would squeeze his cock when he finally got to slide inside you. he just know he wouldn't last long once he felt your walls gripping him.

his tongue darted in and out of your slick folds, making you to tug on his hair harshly.

ni-ki's fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thighs as he licked and sucked your clit with sloppy, desperate motions. sounds of your moans and gasps only served to fuel his own growing arousal with every passing second.

but he promised himself he could wait, for now, he was content to focus solely on pleasuring you, determined to make you feel as good as possible.

he sealed his lips around your clit and suckled hard, pressing two fingers inside as listened to the squelching sounds of your tight cunt.

you cried out, your back arching off the bed as he pumped them in and out. "ni-ki, i...i think I'm going to...ahhh!" your words dissolved into a wordless moan as he curled his fingers just right.

soon, your thighs clamped around his head as you came, your pussy clenching down on his fingers in rhythm.

ni-ki crawled up your trembling body to capture your lips in a deep kiss. "you taste so good," he murmured against your mouth. "i can't wait to be inside you." he said as he positioned himself at your entrance, rubbing the thick head of his cock at your wet folds "i'll be gentle, baby."

"tell me if it hurts too much." he added, slowly pushing forward when he felt your walls relaxed slightly.

you let out whimpers and sharp gasps, the sting of pain clouded your eyes with tears. ni-ki paused, giving you a moment to adjust to the new feeling of being filled inside completely.

the sensation of your pussy squeezing him was unlike anything else. he wanted to fuck the shit out of you, claim you so thoroughly that you'd never forget your first time but he loves you so he has to be patient and gentle with your innocent body.

your whimpers and moans filled the room, ni-ki's heart swelled seeing you like this, breathless, desperate... he can't believe that your body is his for the taking.

your cunt began to welcome him inch by inch.

"fuck, you feel amazing." he groaned, fighting the urge to hammer into you wildly.

starting with shallow thrusts, he gradually increased his pace, still mindful of your pain. and as ni-ki doing it deeper, he leaned down to capture your lips in a passionate kiss. "you're taking my cock so well..." he praised. "so fucking sexy."

your eyes fluttered shut and you tilted your head back in bliss, lost to the new pleasure and pressure building inside you. ni-ki felt your walls fluttering around him erratically. "ni-ki, i think- i'm- again..."

he knew you were close.

he increased his pace, deep strokes hitting that special spot inside you with every thrust. his hands gripped your hips enough to bruise as he fucked his dick into you, grunting with the effort of holding himself back from his own release.

and with a strangled cry, you came undone beneath him. ni-ki followed soon after with a moan of your name, pulling out before spilling his cum all over your thighs.

after cleaning up, ni-ki crawled back into bed and pulled you to his chest, kissing your face and neck but you moved and positioned yourself in his hips, where his hardening cock already poking on your sensitive, beaten entrance. "ready again?" he chuckled, wrapping his arms on your waist, his face nuzzling on your neck.

you giggled and sank down on him with a gasp. ni-ki groaned at the slick heat enveloping him again, making love with more confidence this time around.

rounds later, you're all sweaty and tired. ni-ki wondered dazedly if he'd turned his sweet, innocent girl into a sex addict. "you're so good, ni-ki..." you said, kissing him. to ni-ki, you looked like a sex god, your lips kiss-swollen, chest full of hickeys, your hair is a mess...

completely wrecked by him.

he wrapped his arms around your limp form and rolled to the side, careful not to dislodge from where he was still buried inside you.

and you're there thinking about worshipping ni-ki's body for the rest of your life.

"i'm going to fuck you all over again in the shower." he declared with a wicked grin. you answered with a moan that tells him it sounds like the perfect plan.

never knew sex could hit this different when it was out of love.

a/n: this is too long lol! enjoy <3 read PART TWO HERE

similiar: read Nishimura Riki as your boyfriend

read Nishimura Riki as your classmate

read part-timers!ni-ki x reader

read part-timers!ni-ki x reader part 2

read snitch - reader x ni-ki

read touché - ni-ki x reader

read touché - ni-ki x reader part 2

read exes - ni-ki x reader

[pomegranatelifethis]

STAR IN THE SHADOWS

The massive walls of Wayne Manor were built to protect you, yet they could do nothing to ease the loneliness inside. This place felt less like a home and more like an endless void. Full, yet silent. Warm, yet unreachable. You saw your family every day, but it was as if none of them truly saw you.

As a child, you would often draw pictures for your father—Bruce Wayne—eager to show them to him. But he was always busy. He would take the paper, give it a quick glance, and mutter, "Looks nice," before returning to his work. And you… you would walk back to your room, crumpled drawing in hand, staring at the ceiling, asking yourself the same question:

“Does he really love me?”

As time passed, you stopped looking for an answer.

Jason... He was different.

Jason always noticed you. As a child, you followed him everywhere. Sometimes he was your big brother, sometimes your partner in crime, sometimes your hero. No matter how bad you felt, he would sit beside you, his laughter chasing away your dark thoughts.

But one day, he never came back.

When the news of Jason’s death arrived, your father said nothing. Dick stared into the distance. Tim averted his gaze. Damian didn’t care. But you… you shattered.

A world without Jason… was too quiet.

Seeing your father show no grief ignited something inside you. At night, you sneaked down to the Batcave, watching Bruce stare at the screens with cold, emotionless eyes. As if Jason had never existed. As if his memory wasn’t even worth mentioning. That night, whatever love you had left for your father turned into something else—something bitter.

Tim… Tim was the most logical. Always reading, always analyzing. But even when Jason died, he never showed his emotions. Maybe he buried them deep down, knowing how much it would hurt. He spent time with you, but he always kept his distance. The Tim who once held you in his arms and read you stories as a child had become someone who preferred to watch from afar.

And Dick…

Dick loved you, you knew that. But his love felt like freedom. Whenever he was near, whenever he smiled at you, it warmed your heart like the sun. But you could never hold on to him. He always had a mission, something more important to do. Whenever you tried to talk to him, he would say, "We’ll talk later, okay?" before leaving.

And Damian…

He treated you like a rival, always challenging you. Even as a child, he competed with you for Bruce’s attention. "You’re weak," he would say at every chance. "Useless. You don’t belong in this family." His only goal was to prove himself to Bruce, and the easiest way to do that was by pushing you down.

Years passed. You grew up. But Bruce never changed. Dick drifted away. Tim closed himself off. Damian kept looking at you with the same cold, condescending eyes.

One night, you walked into the Batcave and found them all gathered around the screen, focused on Gotham’s latest crime wave. They were preparing for their mission, too caught up in their work. You stood in the doorway, wanting to speak.

But no one turned to look at you.

You took a step forward, but no one noticed.

And that was when you realized.

You weren’t a hero to them. You weren’t a warrior.

To them, you were just a shadow.

And in the end, shadows always fade away.

[neeeooon]

Hey! How would the bllk boys (Bachira, Isagi, Chigiri, Rin + your choice?) React to their SO trying to break up with them bc she's insecure about not being ambitious enough and she thinks they should be with someone 'better'?

omg this made me so sad 😭 hopefully you enjoy!

when you try to break up with them because you’re insecure ;

bf bllk x fem!reader

bachira meguru

-> watching bachira dance across the field was your favorite thing in the world, but it could be bittersweet. you saw how happy it made him, and it sucked to know that you’d never feel that kind of excitement

-> the thoughts about not being good enough finally got to you, and you caved. “meg? when you have a minute?” “what’s up, y/n?”

-> you didn’t think it’d be this hard. “i… i don’t think i’m ambitious enough to be your girlfriend. i don’t have a thing like you do, and i feel like maybe i’m distracting you? like instead of being on the field, you’re with me, and that’s not fair to you and your dreams.”

-> after a moment of staring and blinking and confused looks from bachira, he jumps up and pulls you into a bone-crushing hug. “just because you don’t have a ‘thing’, doesn’t mean i don’t want you.”

-> he releases you and flashes his signature head-tilt-smile combo that wrecks your heart. “i can help you find something that drives you as much as soccer drives me, if you want! and if you don’t, that’s okay, too! but whatever it is, i want us to do it together. okay? :>”

isagi yoichi

-> after watching team blue lock play against the u20 team and win, hearing how determined your boyfriend was during the interview, watching him celebrate with his teammates, you made up your mind

-> “yoichi? can we talk?” and he starts sweating because he hasn’t seen or heard from you except for a little “congrats!” text since his game

-> you sit him down and stare into your lap as you say, “i think we should break up.”

-> he leans forward to ask why, but stops when you look up to reveal tears in your eyes. “i don’t have a dream. i’m not ambitious like you, and i don’t want to hold you back from achieving your dreams. i want you to live a full, prosperous life with someone better—“

-> and he’s kissing you. “y/n, no. i don’t… there isn’t anyone better. yes, this is my dream, but it’s a dream with you in it! and no one says prosperous, babe.”

-> you laugh at that and he helps wipe your tears away. “do you promise?” “i promise.”

chigiri hyoma

-> you loved watching chigiri regain his dream of running and playing soccer, but there were times when you felt like he was going to pass you by and not look back

-> it made you insecure, knowing he was so happy chasing after this dream that had previously been out of reach, when you didn’t have anything to compare it to. you felt like he could do better with someone who understood his struggles

-> “hyoma?” “hm?” “can i talk to you about something?” “mhm!” “something serious?” “… okay.”

-> and you tell him everything. “i feel like you could do better. like if you were with someone who truly understood your struggles and dreams, that you’d be happier. i love you, but i don’t want to be a deadweight in your future.”

-> chigiri would look at you, know you’re not joking, but still think this is a huge prank. “y/n, i’m able to run toward my dream because of you. because in my head, you’re there at the finish line. you’re not holding be back, you’re giving me something to run to.” you cried after that for sure

itoshi rin

-> though you cheered for your boyfriend and encouraged him every step of the way, you didn’t think you’d ever amount to the love and passionate rin has for soccer

-> it made you doubt yourself, seeing him so ambitious to strive for this dream when you didn’t have anything close to amounting

-> when it finally got to be too much, you pulled your boyfriend aside and kept your hands at your sides. “you are the most talented person i know.”

-> and now he’s nervous. “what’s going on, y/n?”

-> “i feel like i’m pulling you away from that when i’m around. i think your career would be better off without me dragging you down. you’re such a skilled player, rin, and i’m just—“

-> he takes your hands in his and squeezes them, almost desperately. “don’t say anything else. i don’t want to hear it, y/n, please. i can’t do this without you. you aren’t pulling me away or dragging me down, so don’t—“

-> this time it’s you who cuts him off when you fling yourself against his chest. “i’m sorry. i didn’t know… thank you for telling me.”

michael kaiser

-> omg he is terrified when you ask him to “talk” because he’s 98% sure he left the oven on and thinks you found out

-> but when you say, “i think we should break up,” his mind goes blank

-> “why.” “i just feel like you’re so focused on chasing your dream that you don’t need me… i can’t help you become a better player, and i don’t want to hold you back—“ “did i do something?” “huh?”

-> kaiser would look at you with such sad eyes, but accept this thinking that you want to leave him. “if you want to go, i won’t stop you. don’t stay with me if you aren’t happy anymore, y/n—“

-> you are confused, because how has the conversation changed this much? “what the heck, no! michael, i’m saying you can do better than me—“ “but i don’t want ‘better’! there isn’t ‘better’. i want you!”

[madebycloud]

If you want to, only if you want to

jinx/powder x female reader — 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬⠀𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: when your ex girlfriend thought you'd move on with another woman, she tried to ruin your "date." (request from @Snow0Knight0 on ao3) warnings/themes: fluff and slight angst, ex lovers, valentines, amusement park date, mordern au, jealous!jinx, isha's sister!reader, bible terms ig as a metaphors, pov switch words: 9.7k notes: kinda ooc jinx cz i think she'll go on a rampage if she's jealous 🤷‍♀️

You sit on a park bench, watching your little sister play with Jinx. Isha chases after Jinx in circles around the park while Jinx hides behind trees. You see Jinx pop her head out from behind a tree and make faces at your sister before ducking back behind the trunk. Isha giggles, then keeps running after her.

Your little sister can't wait to see Jinx again. After all, they had so much fun the last time they played together. But things aren't the same anymore because you and Jinx are no longer together. Though you can't say no to your little sister, so here you are.

Isha keeps on after Jinx, her legs running as fast as they can go. Jinx grins and sticks her tongue out as she runs backward. “You gotta keep up, kiddo!”

You pull out your phone to film your little sister. But right before you hit record, your phone starts ringing. It's your boss.

You look down at your phone screen, then back up at your little sister. She's still chasing after Jinx, giggling the whole time. You hesitate, then swipe to answer the call.

—

“Yeah, I'm free next week.”

Jinx stops running, suddenly curious about your conversation. She slows down and looks over your way, trying to hear what you're saying.

Isha looks confused, her face scrunched up in a frown. She glances up at Jinx, then back to you.

“Okay, I'll see you next Friday then.”

Next friday? As in on valentine's day? Why are you making plans with someone else on one of the biggest couples holidays there is?

Jinx narrows her eyes at you. She can see the phone up to your ear. Who are you talking to? why are you planning to do something with someone else on valentine's day? 

Isha tugs at Jinx's hand, wanting to continue playing. But Jinx is too preoccupied to pay attention to your little sister right now.

Jinx turns to Isha, her attention still partly on you. She squints her eyes. “Hey, listen, kiddo.”

Isha cocks her head to the side, curious why Jinx isn't playing with her anymore.

Jinx lowers her voice to a hush and whispers so that only Isha can hear. “Do you know if your sister already has a girlfriend or something?”

Isha just shrugs. She doesn't know. She doesn't really care about her sister's love life, at least not as much as Jinx does. Though she remembers you and Jinx dating, and she knows you've broken up. But all that matters now is that she plays with her favorite people, like you and Jinx.

Jinx frowns, not happy with the lack of answer she's getting from your little sister. 

She's not mad... at least, not right now. She's still not sure if the person you were talking to was a girl or not, or if you two really had something going on for you to make such plans. But the thought of you spending that day with anyone but her is bothering her.

To be clear, Jinx isn't like… jealous or anything. She's just curious. Yeah, just curious. To know why you're talking to someone on the phone and what they want with you, specifically on a day like that.

Still, Jinx tries to shrug it off. You do have your own life. You're not together anymore.

She doesn't care. She doesn't care if you spend a stupid holiday with someone. She doesn't even care that you two aren't together anymore. You have every right to make plans with someone else. She can't be mad... nope, definitely not mad at all.

She looks down at your sister, who's still standing there, staring up at her expectantly. She remembers that she's supposed to be playing with her. 

Jinx tries to smile at your little sister. It's forced, though. She decides to put her focus back on the kid in front of her. She can't spend her time worrying or getting upset over you and your weird phone call. Nah, it's better to focus on the little one in front of her. Playing with her is much better than worrying about you. Definitely.

“So…” Jinx starts. “Still wanna play tag?”

—

A few days later, Jinx still can't shake the thought. She knows she shouldn't care... but that doesn't stop the thought from being there. That doesn't stop it from thinking about you with someone else. 

She needs to know who you're seeing. She needs to know who you're going to spend Valentine's day with.

So, she keeps trying to get more information from your little sister, whenever and however she can.

One day, Jinx finally gets the information she's been looking for. 

And now, she's standing outside a cafe. Jinx sees you through the window, talking to someone. She watches as you laugh at something this woman says. She can't see who it is. She can't hear whatever the conversation you're having. But she can see you laughing, and that... that makes her stomach churn.

She's seen you happy before. But there's just something about the way you're laughing with this woman. It's making her feel... something.

Wait.

Is she jealous?

No, that's just stupid. She just wants to know who you're talking with. Yup. That's all. She just wants to know who you're seeing. She's not jealous.

Jinx steps inside the cafe, the bell above the door jingling. Her eyes are locked on you, not even twitching an inch. She's so focused on you that she's not even paying attention to anything else. Not even the barista trying to ask her what she wants to order.

“Um... ma'am?” the barista tries again.

Jinx finally snaps out of it, turning her attention toward the barista. She realizes that she probably looked weird, just staring at you like that.

She blinks once, twice, before she answers. “Uh…” She looks back at you, and then back at the barista. “Oh... um... yeah. Can I get a…” Jinx looks at the menu. “A caramel mocha, or something…”

The barista nods, not minding Jinx's sudden zoning out. “Sure thing. And just so you know-” they continue, as they start preparing her order. “We have a discount for couples, especially since it's Valentine's today.”

Oh?

Jinx's eyes dart back to you, and she starts to put two and two together. Couples? Discount? Does that mean you and that woman are…

—

“Hahaha… yeah.” You force out a laugh, feeling awkward. Free food. Yeah, free food is good.

You don't have work today, thanks to your boss who's sitting in front of you.

Spending Valentine's day with your boss of all people and…

Ugh.

It's not a date. It's just a meeting. Just a meeting that your boss decided to have on valentine's day. 

You're sitting across from your boss, forcing out a laugh as she talks about… about-

Wait. What was she talking about? you were too busy thinking about the fact that you were in a valentine's meeting with your boss that you didn't pay attention to the actual conversation.

“I must say,” your boss chimes in with a smile, taking a sip of her coffee. “I'm quite impressed with your recent work.”

You force a smile back. “Oh, um… thank you, ma'am.”

Your boss nods. “In fact-” your boss continues, but their voice starts to fade out. Why? Because…

Your attention suddenly drifts towards the door. The bell jingles as someone new walks in.

You're not sure why... but you feel the sudden urge to look at whoever has just walked in. Is it... is it a feeling? a weird feeling?

“Promotion”

What?

Did you just hear your boss say... promotion?

The noise in the cafe suddenly dies out. You're no longer listening to the sound of coffee being brewed, or the barista taking orders, or the hum of conversation.

Your focus is on the one word you just heard.

Promotion.

“Promotion?” you repeat. As in, a pay raise. As in, even more responsibilities. As in-

“Yes.” She puts her coffee down. “You've been an excellent employee. You're diligent, focused, and always go the extra mile.”

Just before she can get another word out, something happens. Just when everything seems to be going right with those precious words “promotion,” something just HAS to happen.

Accidents happen, right?

Except this one is a really big accident.

Because some idiot accidentally spilled a hot, caramel mocha with a mountain of whipped cream all over your boss's shirt.

“What the-” your boss's eyes widen when she sees the ruined blouse that she's wearing. “Who on earth-”

“Oh god. I'm so, so sorry.” The idiot who caused this whole mess apologizes, stepping closer to your boss.

Wait-

There's something about that voice...

Why does it sound so familiar?

Your head turns slowly toward the source of the voice.

Your ex.

Jinx.

JINX?!

What is she doing here?!

“Again, I'm so sorry.” Jinx repeats herself as she tries to fix the mess, grabbing some napkins from the table and using them to soak up the mess on your boss's shirt. “I didn't mean to-” Her head suddenly turns in your direction.

Why is she... why is she here? she already spent time with your little sister last week, what could she possibly want-

“Oh-” your boss interrupts, noticing the way Jinx looks at you, or the way you're looking at Jinx. “You two... know each other?”

Shit. 

This is going to be awkward. 

“Uh…” You look over at Jinx. She's still staring at you with that look on her face. Why does she look like that? Is she trying to tell you something? “We're just old friends.”

You cringe at the words. Friends isn't the right word to use, but you know you had to say something. You couldn't just say, “Oh yeah, she's my ex and I don't know what the hell she's doing here.” There's no way you're saying that in front of your boss.

Then you notice the way Jinx clenches her jaw, just subtly. You know that look on her face. The one where she's trying to hold something back. Not that she's going to explode or anything, it's just... the expression tells you that she has something to say.

And she looks pissed.

Why is she pissed? You didn't say anything wrong. You aren't together anymore, right? So shouldn't everything be fine?

But that doesn't matter now because you have bigger problems to deal with. Like how Jinx just spilled a freshly brewed, steaming hot coffee full of sugar and cream all over your boss's blouse.

“Yep.” Jinx affirms with a nod. “We're just old, good friends.”

Your boss looks between the two of you. Then, she takes a napkin and dabs some of the excess, creamy liquid off.

You stand there, waiting for the moment when your boss will explode. That she'll get extremely mad at the woman who has just ruined her blouse (which cost probably double of your salary) and demand compensation.

But-

Your boss just sighs.

“How... unfortunate.” She murmurs, looking down at her blouse.

That's it?

Why isn't she asking for compensation? or demanding an apology? or an explanation? or whatever else one would demand in this kind of situation?

“Don't worry about it.” Your boss reassures. “It was just an unfortunate accident.” She smiles at Jinx and then places the stained, crumpled up napkin onto the table. “I'm just... out of luck, because I don't have a spare blouse to change.”

—

Jinx didn't expect that.

She thought she'd get chewed out by your ‘girlfriend’ for ruining her expensive shirt, have to pay for it, or something similar. But instead, she just walked over to the shop across the street, picked out an expensive replacement for the ruined shirt, paid for it, and then went into the changing room to try it on.

Now, you and Jinx are just sitting next to each other on a white leather couch, close enough that your thighs almost brush, but far enough that you have enough space to not actually touch.

Her foot is tapping impatiently against the tiled floor. She's staring at the side of your head, trying to catch your attention. Your eyes are glued on a random painting on the wall across from the couch.

It's quiet and uncomfortable.

She remembers how many times in the past you and her would sit on a couch like this. In her place, in your place, it didn't matter.

She'd be snuggled up next to you, sitting on your lap, and you'd have an arm around her waist, or she'd place your hand on her thigh, or her hand on the back of your neck, or she would be playing with your hair.

But now, she's keeping both hands to herself, and it feels... wrong. Like something is missing.

“So…” Jinx drawls, the tapping of her foot stops. “You and your d-” She barely gets the word out before you interrupt her. 

“What are you doing here-” you turn to face her, and the words just kind of blurt out of you, “-I mean, why are you-”

“What do you mean, what am I doing here? I was at the cafe.”

“Why were you in the cafe?”

“What?”

“Did you know that I was going to be there?”

“No,” she lies. “Why do you think I went to the cafe? Do you think I'm stalking you or something?”

“Are you?”

“What?!” Jinx throws her hands up in frustration. “Since when do I stalk people?”

You give her a look, one that says, ‘really?’

“Don't look at me like that! I've never stalked anyone in my life. Ever.” She huffs. “I was just... doing my own thing. I just happened to be there. In the same place. At the same time. That's all. A coincidence.” Jinx pauses, realizing her own words, how it sounds, and how she sounded. She then looks at you, eyes tracing over your face, before she suddenly looks away. “Anyway,” she says, “you and that woman... are you two a thing?” she asks, trying to change the topic.

“Why do you care?”

Why does she care?

She doesn't.

She shouldn't.

She can't care.

She has no right to care.

She left you. She pushed you away. She can't care anymore, because that would make her a hypocrite, to push you away but care for you at the same time.

She's supposed to be moving on. That's what she was supposed to do.

But why does she still feel like this?

Why does her heart ache? Why does it ache because she's sitting right next to you, and she can't do anything but keep her hands to herself? Why does it ache because your shoulders are only an inch away from touching? Why can't you just touch each other again? Why do just a few inches feel so... lonely?

She's supposed to be over you. It's been months.

Months!

She doesn't understand why she still feels this way. She tries to date other people, but none of them compare to you.

And that's not fair.

It's not fair because she keeps comparing everything about them to how you used to be.

She compares the color of their outfit to yours, she compares the way they walk to yours, she compares the sound of their voice to yours.

Her mind keeps finding little things in them that remind her of you.

How their hands feel too rough. How their smiles are too forced. How their eyes never lit up like yours did. How their hugs didn't feel right. How they never seemed to get her the way you did.

It's all wrong.

Because they're not you. No one could compare to you.

She tries to convince herself that she's over you, that she doesn't care, that she doesn't miss you. That the fact that you've found someone else shouldn't bother her at all, that she's totally fine with the fact that you've clearly given your attention to someone else. That she has no right to be jealous, no right to be like this.

So she repeats the same thing she's been telling herself for months.

“I don't care,” she lies to herself and lies to you. Her eyes darts to your hand, close enough for her to take if she reached out her own hand. “It doesn't bother me.”

“Of course it doesn't.” You scoff. “It has nothing to do with you.”

It has something to do with her.

Before she can say anything else, the changing room door opens, and the woman walks out wearing a new black and white blouse.

“Ah, much better.” The woman looks at herself, smoothing out the wrinkles on the fabric. She turns her attention to you. “What do you think?” She smiles. “Looks better, doesn't it?”

Jinx glares at her. That woman looks dumb in the stupid white and black blouse, which somehow manages to look cheaper than the previous blouse even though it probably cost more.

“Yeah.” You force yourself to look away from Jinx, standing up from the couch. “It looks good.”

Jinx grinds her teeth, standing up as well. The way you speak to her like that, it... annoys her. It makes her want to do something petty.

“Glad you think so,” she continues, adjusting the collar. “At least this is presentable. Unlike my previous blouse, which is now... coffee-stained.”

Jinx smirks at that. But her smirk quickly disappears when the woman turns to look at her.

“Speaking of that,” the woman says, her eyes locking onto Jinx. “I don't believe we've had a proper introduction. I'm Cassandra. Cassandra Kiramman. What's your name?”

“Uh…”

“Don't be shy,” she says, in a tone that could be perceived the wrong way, and it grates on Jinx's already thin temper. “I just thought we should greet each other properly, especially after the… earlier accident.”

“Jinx,” she replies. “Just Jinx.”

“Jinx,” the woman repeats. “Interesting name.”

“Better than your boring name,” Jinx mutters.

You elbow her side. Jinx holds back a grimace.

“What was that?” The woman's brow quirks.

“Nothing,” Jinx lies. “Just…” She looks down at the woman's designer heels. “I was just admiring your heels.”

“Oh.” The woman looks down at her heels as well, raising one foot up to show them off. “I got them at the same store I bought this outfit.”

Jinx snorts. “Cheap.”

The woman either doesn't hear what Jinx just said or she just ignores it. Instead, she holds out her hand, and Jinx stares down at it.

“It's nice to meet you, Jinx,” the woman says, still holding out her hand. “I hope we-”

You nudge Jinx. “Be nice,” you whisper.

Jinx scoffs but begrudgingly reaches out and grips the woman's hand. “Likewise.” She forces a smile onto her face.

The woman's hand feels too soft. Jinx could break her with her bare hands if she wants to. Which she is very much considering.

“I'm glad that's settled then.” She lets go of Jinx's hand, and Jinx wipes it on her pants, trying to rid that weird feeling off her skin. Everything about her just makes her sick. Even her name, Cassandra, makes her want to hurl.

The woman starts to walk towards the counter. “I'll just... go pay for this.”

“Sure.” You say, watching her walk away.

—

After your boss pays for her overpriced blouse at the register, she pulls you outside, away from Jinx, who stands several feet away. Jinx can see you talking to her, but she can't hear what you're saying. 

“About that promotion…” your boss starts. “Your name is still in the running for consideration, however, we're still going to be discussing it before making any final decisions.”

“Since my name was mentioned?” you repeat, “so there are already some possible employees they're considering?”

“Yes,” she says, looking at you with a stern and serious face. “The only problem being…”

“...being?” you prompt.

“How do I put this?” Your boss clears her throat. “Your performance has been excellent, to say the least. You've always exceeded our expectations and more, and your skills have certainly improved over the years.”

Your confidence rises a bit. “But?”

“But,” your boss continues, “the decision isn't solely based on your performance.”

“How so?” you probe. “It's always based on performance, right?”

“Not in this case,” your boss explains. “In regard to the promotion, the decision is up to the board members.”

The board members? Up until this point, you had assumed that the decision was made by the managers, but you guess it makes sense, since you're dealing with a large company.

“You mean the... big guys? The ones who are…”

“Rich, wealthy, snobby?” Your boss completes your sentence for you. Smirk forms on her lips, as if the board annoys her as well.

“Ahh... and that could be bad…?”

Your boss pauses for a moment, then, “...yes.”

“Why?”

“Because the board is a bit finicky.” She sighs. “They're not one to make decisions easily, and they've always had this... habit of arguing over even the most trivial affairs.”

“So… it’s not looking good for me then?”

“Don't say that,” your boss says. “It's not looking terrible for you.”

“I see.” You chew the inside of your cheek. “Wait, does that mean I have to impress the board members?”

“Yes, that's exactly it.” Your boss agrees. “The members are picky, so to speak.”

Figures. Of course the rich assholes are picky bastards.

Your boss gives your shoulders a reassuring pat before returning her hand to her side. “Just-” she glances over your shoulder towards Jinx, “-try not to worry about it, alright? It's out of your control.”

Jinx continues to glare at the woman. Your boss leans in to whisper, “Your friend-” she nods at Jinx “-doesn't seem to like me very much.”

You follow her gaze. 

Jinx notices the two of you staring and suddenly finds great interest in a nearby pigeon pecking at the ground.

“Yeah…” you reply, laughing nervously.

Your boss chuckles, turning to you again. “Anyway, I've got to run. But don't bother coming to work today. You have the day off so-” She gives you a smile and glances towards Jinx, “-spend the rest of your Valentine's day... with her.”

“Oh no, we're not-”

“Don't give me that.” She cuts you off. “I'm not naive, okay? I'm not stupid. I know you two are a thing. It's obvious.”

“Was.” You correct her.

Your boss doesn't seem to care much about the correction. She doesn't react at all. No surprise, no shock, no disappointment. “Was, is, who cares?” 

Huh. What is this woman talking about? “Excuse me?”

Your boss ignores your confused look. “The point is, the two of you have something. Something that still hasn't faded.” She motions at Jinx, who's still busy watching a pigeon pick at some bread crumbs on the ground. “I'd better get going. Take the day off for yourself. And…” She gives you a knowing look. “Figure things out.”

With that, your boss turns around and waves to you before walking away. You watch her go, dumbfounded and confused. Is she right? Does Jinx still have feelings for you?

—

Jinx hates the way the woman pulls you outside, she hates the way the woman lays her hand on your shoulder, she hates the way the woman leans into you to whisper something that Jinx hates because she couldn't hear what the two of you were talking about. When the two of you catch her looking, she suddenly looks away.

She hears you laugh. It's the most beautiful sound she's ever heard, but it's the fact that you're laughing with someone else that pisses her off. 

She focuses her attention on the bird pecking at the ground.

That's right. 

Focus on the bird, not the sound of your laughter. Ignore the way the woman keeps her hand on your shoulder. Don't pay any attention to the way the two of you are talking. 

Just focus on the bird. Nothing but the bird.

She could turn and leave right now if she wanted to. Nobody's forcing her to stay. She doesn't even know why she stuck around and followed you and the woman into this shop in the first place. But she wants to stay. She wants to stay because you're here. Because of you.

This is ridiculous.

It's none of her business. You two aren't together anymore. You're not her responsibility. You're not her issue to deal with. She's free to do whatever and whoever she wants.

She hears footsteps getting closer to her, and she turns her head to see you coming over. She looks around, noticing the woman is gone.

“Did you bid your farewells to your girlfriend yet?” she asks curtly.

“She's not my girlfriend,” you reply, walking to her side.

“Oh…” She turns back to the pigeon but finds it has flown away, leaving a few bread crumbs on the ground. She's left with nothing to focus her attention on aside from you. “Then what is she?”

It's a stupid question, but she asks it anyway. It's not like she's entitled to your intimate details. 

“She's just my boss.”

She lets out a sigh. Is it a sigh of relief? Maybe.

“You know… you've been glaring at me the whole time,” you continue.

She snorts. “That's just because your face is irritating to look at, nothing else."

“Oh, I'm sure that's the only reason.”

No, it's not just the only reason.

“So what is it then, huh?” she asks, irritated. “Is she flirting with you?”

“No.”

“She laid her hand on your shoulder, didn't she?”

“Is that what you're worked up about? That she laid her hand on my shoulder?”

“Why did she do that anyways?”

“It's no big deal, she's just-”

Jinx interrupts you. “Why did she do it? what compelled her to touch you like that? It's not very appropriate for your boss to be physically affectionate towards you.”

“Since when were you a stickler for rules and appropriate conduct?” 

“I'm not.” 

“Then why are you so worked up about a simple touch?”

“Because it's not just a simple touch.”

“What? So now you're the authority on what a simple touch looks like?”

“I know a lust driven touch when I see one.”

“Lust driven? What are you, insane?”

“I'm not insane,” Jinx grumbles. “I know the difference between an innocent touch and a not-so-innocent touch.”

“Not-so-innocent? Seriously, Jinx. What are you—do you think my boss has a thing for me?”

“Don't be dense. It's obvious that she has the hots for you.”

“Jinx, she's married. Didn't you see that ring on her finger?”

That makes Jinx pause.

A ring?

Huh... she didn't notice it.

Had she really been so focused on you that she hadn't noticed?

“And married people can't want anyone else? you'd be pretty blind if you think married people can't have crushes, or feelings, or affairs... oh god, is she having an affair with you?”

“What?! No, she's not-” You facepalm. “What in the world would make you think that my boss, who's happily married by the way, would be cheating on her husband with me? That's fucking insane!” You pause, suddenly realizing something. “...wait a minute?”

“What?”

“Earlier today... the spilled drink. That was on purpose, wasn't it?!”

She remains silent.

“You're jealous,” you state.

“What? Jealous? That's bullshit.” Her face heats up. She's a terrible liar, isn't she?

“Then why are you so bothered by the fact that my boss-”

“Because you're mine!”

And there it is. This is what she wanted to hide. Her jealousy, her possessiveness, her attachment to you.

The words slip out before she can even think, and they're so loud and so clear that anyone within a few meters could've heard them. There was no plan, no filter, no hesitation. Just the words that spill out from her mouth before her brain could catch up.

What is she even saying? You're not hers. Why did she say that? She didn't mean it. She has to backtrack, change the subject, anything, just don't look like a blubbering idiot.

“I'm-” She turns away from you. “You're-” She covers her face with her hands and groans.

How pathetic.

Why did she just say that?!

She'll just laugh it off, right? Just say haha, kidding, no hard feelings, we can be friends... right?!

You rub your forehead and shake your head. “Jinx... even if my boss had any feelings for me, which she doesn't, but even if she did-”

The thought of you being with anyone else is driving Jinx completely crazy.

She can't bear to even imagine the thought of you being with someone else or your boss. She's already picturing it in her mind, the both of you together, laughing, smiling, happy, while you're wrapped around your boss like a dog. Your boss is so rich and successful and could provide you with everything you could ever want. And what could Jinx offer you?

Jinx turns to you, dropping her hand from her face. “Why WOULDN'T you be interested in her? She's got it all, for fuck's sake! She's pretty, she's nice, she's independent, she's successful… she's everything any guy or girl would want. What's not to like?”

“Because she's not you!”

“Pfft! Of course she's not me!” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “She's got everything going for her. She's put together, mature, not a total mess-” her mind goes blank when she realizes what you'd said. “...wait. What did you say?”

“She's not you.”

Jinx opens her mouth to argue, then suddenly closes it. She looks away, biting her lip, refusing to look at whatever expression you have right now. 

Why?

You shouldn't have said that. You shouldn't have said something like that.

Don't you realize this is only going to make things harder... and better?

—

Jinx isn't saying anything. You both are just... standing there in silence. People are passing by, couples holding hands, friends laughing and talking.

Your boss' words are still ringing in your ear. Figure things out.

You glance to the side, at the brick wall, and at the clock on the building. The second hand is ticking away. “We still have time,” you say, and you feel Jinx look at you.

“Time for what?”

“My sister isn't out of school yet, so…” You clear your throat. “I heard there's a new amusement park that just opened up nearby. Would you…”

Would you like to be my valentine? The words hang in your head, and your mouth refuses to say them. You just want to see if it's still there. If the connection you felt before is still present. If the feelings she had for you remain.

“Would you like to go with me?”

“...huh? Like, right now?”

“Er-” you sputter, “ONLY IF YOU WANT TO-” you add hastily. “I… I mean, if you're free-” You look down, shifting awkwardly. “If you're not-”

“I am!” she blurts out.

Okay, she agreed.

Wait, what?

Your head whips back up, eyes wide as you blink at her in silence.

“No, I-I mean, yes, I'm free,” Jinx clarifies. 

“Are you sure?” you ask, “I only mean if you want-”

“Yes!” Jinx blurts out again, then clamps a hand over her mouth with a muttered ‘fuck’ when she realizes how eager she sounds.

You both just stand there awkwardly, staring at each other, before Jinx snaps herself out of her nervousness, eyes hardening as she puts on a confident smile. “Well,” she quips. “Lead the way.”

—

“Watch this.”

Jinx grips the fake pistol, a grin spread across her face. She lines up her shot, and-

BANG!

The target falls.

BANG!

Another falls.

BANG!

And another.

The park staff watch in shock at the girl's accuracy, while passersby stop to watch the impressive display of skill.

“Hell yeaaahh!” she crows, spinning the toy gun around her finger. “That's how it's done, baby!”

A group of teenagers watches her, chanting “MVP” and “QUEEN!”

Jinx shrugs, twirling the gun around. She hands the toy gun back to the staff and looks up above to choose a prize. “Hmmm... hmm... that one.” She points up to a giant stuffed pink shark, and the worker sighs. 

“That-” they start before Jinx interrupts them. 

“Yeah, I want the giant shark.”

The worker sighs heavier and takes the shark down, reluctantly handing it over to Jinx.

Giggling, she throws her prize towards you, and you awkwardly catch the gigantic stuffed animal under one arm.

“What-” you ask as she walks away. “Where are we going now?”

“Ooh! Let's go to that!” She points to the twisted rollercoaster as you struggle to keep pace with her.

The roller coaster looks like torture, and the line is so freaking long you could fall asleep while waiting.

“Can't we go on something... calmer?”

—

“I'm not so sure about this…” you hesitantly say as you're forced to sit next to Jinx in the roller coaster, her thigh touching yours since the seat is so damn small.

You try to fit the giant shark between you, and by some miracle, you manage to cram the stuffed toy in the already crowded space.

The staff comes to make sure everyone is buckled up and stops when they see the giant pink stuffed shark squished awkwardly between you two. “That uhhh... needs to be placed there.” They point over to a shelf where they take any extra luggage/belongings.

You and Jinx both turn around to look at the shelf, then back at the ride worker.

“Oh, right.” You nod and pick up the giant stuffed animal, handing it to the staff.

“Don't lose it-” Jinx warns them.

“Yeah, yeah, we won't,” the staff says, putting it on the shelf.

The bars come down and latch you in.

“Alright-” one of the staff says, “The ride is about to start!”

You look at Jinx, and she looks back at you. “Ready?” she asks, grinning.

“Uh, Ahahaha… sure.”

The staff member comes around one last time and checks to see if you're strapped in correctly. “All right-” they say. “Here we go-”

You gulp, swallowing nervously. You'd rather take on a bullet than ride this metal atrocity, but you're stuck with Jinx.

The ride starts moving, making the clicking sound as it's being lifted upwards to the very top of the coaster.

The ride climbs up to the top, and your nervousness only starts to increase as the rollercoaster continues to climb higher and higher. When it finally reaches the top, it suddenly stops moving, probably to give a few minutes for those to take pictures.

“Hey, look!” Jinx points to the view of the amusement park below the two of you. “We're so high up!”

“I just want to say…” you start, “that I ate the cake you put in the fridge last yea- AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH.”

The roller coaster suddenly drops, and the two of you are sent flying down at a high speed.

“OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD-” you scream over the roar of the coaster. Your screams are mixed in with the screams of everyone else.

“WOOOOOOO!” she yells, raising both of her arms in the air. “FUCK YEAAAHH!!”

The roller coaster does a series of sharp turns, drops, twists, and loops that completely mess with your perspective and gravity.

You feel like your stomach is somewhere in your thighs as the ride twists and turns around at breakneck speeds. “HOLY SHIT I CAN FEEL THE SKIN COMING OFF OF MY FACE AAAAAAAAAAAAAA.”

Jinx, on the other hand-

“IT'S SO FAST! FASTER FASTER FASTER!”

This is it. This is how you die.

—

…you somehow survived the roller coaster, but you're not so sure if your soul has left your body.

After the first roller coaster ride, you decided to take it easy on yourself and went on the carousel, but Jinx was having none of it and pulled you onto the next wild ride. And the next. And the next…

Eventually, you get your hands on the picture captured during the roller coaster.

Jinx laughs and stares at the picture before sticking it into her pocket. “You should see your face.” She giggles as you pass a few other people.

She's currently holding the giant shark stuffie in her arms as the two of you walk around, looking for something else to do.

You've done just about everything except for the log ride and there's no way you're going on that.

You're walking aimlessly through the park when you notice Jinx's pace starts to slow down, trailing behind you.

“Hey?” You turn around to look at her. “What's wrong?”

She's already looking up at the sky. “Do you want to try the ferris wheel?”

—

notes: i would 100% recommend listening to “come here” by kath bloom since this scene (and what happens afterwards) is inspired by the movie before sunrise

You sit in the ferris wheel, side by side. The ride starts moving, slowly bringing the two of you up higher and higher.

You stare out the window to your left, watching the world get farther and farther away as the cabin rises up.

The giant pink shark sits across from the two of you. You like this. Just you and her and the shark.

You feel her side pressed against yours, and you're unable to concentrate on anything besides that. She also looks unable to sit still because she's constantly shifting in her seat.

You sneak a glance at her and see her looking at the window as well. She notices you staring and turns her head to look at you. Suddenly, your eyes meet—you note the color of her irises. An artist might have trouble replicating them, but you think yours could do a pretty good job.

...and just like that, she looks away. Back to the window, finding something interesting to stare at on her side of the cabin.

It gives you a good opportunity to look your fill.

But then she looks back at you, and you look away. Your lips twitch into a faint smile before you quickly purse them together.

You feel her knee brush yours, just gently, like someone walking past you in a crowded room. Except this isn't an accident.

You turn your focus back outside the window, admiring the view. You see the top of the roller coaster you were just on, the carousel, and so many other places you've been today.

But your attention soon drifts to your right side and—oh. She's staring at you again.

Her eyes trace up the side of your head. Over your hair, around your ear…

…to your lips.

She wants to kiss you.

A fact that you notice quite easily.

You want to kiss her too.

You take a deep, trembling breath. You don't know if it's the height, or the cramped space, or the fact that you're alone with her right now—but it's starting to get hot in here.

You wait for a few more seconds, but then, unable to wait any longer, you turn to look at her-

Only to realize she already looked away before you could capture her gaze.

You look down at your lap, feeling the corner of your mouth twitching into a smile again, and... you don't bother stopping it, nor the way your tongue flicks out to wet your lower lip.

You're shaken out of your thoughts when the cabin jerks to a stop. It stopped at the very top. The highest point, where the view is the best.

You don't take time to look out the window. You can only focus on the woman sitting next to you.

Just one more look.

Just one more. That's all you want. You want to turn your head just one more time and kiss her right here in the cabin.

Just one more before you lean in and capture her lips with your own.

You don't know what pulls at your chest or your head, but suddenly you feel the urge to look back at her-

But she stares down at her lap, idly fiddling with her fingers, picking at the blue and pink nail polish. Her braids hide her face from your view. You want to reach out and tuck them behind her ear to see her face better... but you hesitate.

You wait for her to look at you, and when she does-

She looks up, and your eyes lock. She doesn't look away. Neither do you.

—

“Isha will love this.” Jinx chuckles, patting the pink shark sitting next to her.

You watch her from across the table. The diner around you is mostly empty, the staff working while waiting for the next customers to come in.

You look at the clock on the wall. Only an hour left before you have to pick up your little sister. Both of you decided to take a break from the amusement park and grab a bite to eat at the nearby diner.

Jinx sighs, drumming her fingers on the table, growing bored with the wait time. “I'm bored,” she whines, “Let's do something.” 

You've been waiting for your order for a while. “Like what?”

She hums, thinking. “Like... roleplay.”

You shrug. Why not? You don't have anything else to do. “Alright, let's try it.”

She grins and leans forward, propping her chin on her hand. “Okay, you're going to pretend to call a friend, and I-” she points her finger at her chest, “-will answer. Sounds good?”

You're a bit confused, but you nod anyway. If you can humor her, maybe it'll pass the time. You lift your hand up and imitate holding a phone, with your thumb and pinky pointed upwards. “Ring ring.”

Jinx does the same and clears her throat before replying, “Heeellloo.”

The sound of her cheerful voice makes you crack a smile. “Hey.” You put on your serious but friendly tone, looking straight at her. “Is this... er-” You pause, your brain working to come up with a random name. “...is this Rebecca?”

“Heyyy yes it is, this is Becca.” Jinx tilts her head to the side. “How are you?”

You have to suppress a laugh. She really sounds like another person. “Yeah, I'm doing good. I was just calling to catch up. How's life been?”

“Oh, the usual. Work, sleep, rinse, and repeat,” she says with a sigh. “What about you?”

“Well…” You look down at the table, pretending to think of something, then look up and meet her eyes once again. “I met my ex.”

Jinx's (or rather, Rebecca's) eyes go wide, pretending to be shocked. “Your ex? Like, Jinx, your ex girlfriend? When did this happen?”

“Just today. I was having a meeting with my boss, and, well she… she kind of accidentally spilled a drink on her.”

Jinx's face scrunches up into an 'O' shape. “She spilled a drink on your boss?” she repeats. “What the hell? Why would she do that?”

“I think she's jealous.”

Jinx smirks. “So... what did you do? Did you two end up talking?”

“Yeah, we did,” you reply, watching her face. “She's still the same. Same eyes, same lips, same tattoos, same long braids of blue hair... beautiful as she always is.”

Jinx's expression softens. She listens to you intently, smiling.

You hesitate before continuing. “I still... love it.”

You stare down at the table and lay one of your hands on the surface. 

“I like it when she looks at me,” you say, your fingers tracing the wood. “I like to feel her eyes on me when I look away.” Your eyes return to hers.

Jinx lets her hand rest on the table, her fingers only a few inches away from your own. The gap between your fingers is not close enough to touch, but it still causes your heart rate to pick up.

You look at her slender digits, tracing the faint veins on the back of her hand. 

Her hand moves a bit, as if she were about to reach out and touch yours, but then she changes her mind. “Are you going to get back together?”

You contemplate her words, and then a snort of laughter escapes your lips. “We haven't really talked about it yet,” you answer.

There's a pregnant pause, the two of you looking into each other's eyes in silence.

You break the silence with a cough and return your hand back down to the table. You mimic hanging up the phone, signaling that the conversation is over. She does the same, coughing awkwardly.

“Your turn,” you say, “you call your friend.”

“Okay, okay.” She raises her hand, mimicking holding a phone once more. “Brrrring brrrringggg.”

You play along and answer in a deep voice. “Sup, dude? What's up?”

She giggles at your tone. “Hey, how ya been?”

“Doin' just fine, ya know. Livin' the dream. You?”

“I'm doing just great,” she responds. “No, scratch that. I'm rapturous. Wanna know why?”

“And why, might I ask?”

“I met someone.”

“Who?”

“My ex.”

“Oh wow.”

“And the best part is,” she adds, looking at you. “She's here with me,” she continues. “Have you heard the saying that we're all our own angels and demons?”

You nod.

She hums and grins. “Well, turns out that's true. Because I'm looking at an angel right in front of me.”

That's so cheesy... and it's working. “How did you meet?” you ask, changing the topic.

“Oh yeah, about that…” She clears her throat and sits back. “Well,” she starts, drumming her fingers on the table. “I was just curious about who your... uh, I mean her…” She wrinkles her nose. “Valentine's date was. So I got info on her little sister.”

“My sis—I mean, her little sister?”

“Yep, that little squirt was actually pretty cooperative.” Jinx chuckles. “But I just saw her with another woman in a cafe. Turned out it was just her boss.”

You laugh at that, shaking your head.

She grins, satisfied that she was able to make you laugh.

The two of you sit in silence again, waiting for the waiter to bring your orders.

“Anyway, I know we have a lot to talk about,” she continues, her eyes finding yours. “Everything that went down between us. About our relationship. But…” her voice trails off, and then she seems to have found her voice again. “But do… do you think… do you think we would ever be back together?”

Your hand moves from the table to her hand, taking it into yours. The gesture is so natural you don't even notice it until you see the way her fingers wrap around yours.

You run your thumb over her knuckles, her hand fitting in yours like it always did and always will. “I think... if you both talk things out... and if you're both willing to try again…”

She brings your hands to her mouth, placing kisses on your knuckles, on the bumps of your skin, on the veins that run beneath. She looks back up at you, her eyes searching for something in your face. Whatever she was looking for, she finds it and smiles.

“Are you willing to try again?”

You don't reply. 

What would it be like to be with her again? Despite everything, despite how things were, there were still moments you remember in a warm light.

The times you and she held hands and just walked down the street. The times you two would sit in a park and people, watch and joke about anyone that walked past.

The times you got stranded in the rain with her and had to share an umbrella, giggling as you squeezed together under it. 

The times you two went on a road trip together and laughed and sang along to the radio the whole way.

The times you two spent a night at a hotel together, and neither one of you got any sleep.

The times she would laugh at a stupid joke or just do something adorable, and all the air of the room would just leave you and your voice would get caught in your throat.

The times you saw her in a t-shirt and shorts and no makeup, and she's still the most beautiful in the world.

The times you felt your heart leap when you saw her name pop up on your phone. 

The times spent talking about the most boring things and the most boring things were suddenly the most interesting things in the world.

The times you went to the movies and she'd get bored and try to make out with you.

The times she fell asleep with her head on your shoulder, and you'd stay as still, not moving a muscle, and when she asked why you weren't moving, you said “Nothing,” but it was because you could feel her breathing against your neck, and it was so calming that you just wanted to stay like that forever.

The times the sun would hit her face and light up her features and her hair would be golden and the freckles on the bridge of her nose would stand out.

The times she would say something ridiculous like “Oh god, my back is killing me... it sure would be a shame if a beautiful and caring woman just, oh, I don't know, gave me a back massage,” and then look at you with complete innocence.

The times she went with you to meet your grandmother, who immediately took a liking to her and pulled you aside later on to tell you she's a keeper.

The times she would talk about her childhood, and you would listen, and you thought “I wish I could take your pain away.”

The times you stood in the kitchen and cooked together, and it was a mess of flour and batter and sugar and eggs everywhere because you two kept throwing things at each other and laughing and kissing and stealing sips of cookie batter.

The times you woke up next to her and she was looking at you and her eyes were still bleary and the only thought you could think of was “I love her even more than I did last night.”

The times she would get upset about the smallest thing and leave, only to come back hours later with tired eyes and a tight smile. The times you would try to comfort her and she would shrug you off and tell you she's fine, even when she's clearly not.

The times she'd play with your little sister, pretending to be a princess alongside her. The times she'd be a regal queen who let her little princess sit atop her throne. The times she'd be an evil witch who terrorized your little sister. The times she'd be an adventurer who'd save your little sister.

The times she'd look at you when she thought you didn't notice. The times she'd lie and say she wasn't staring at you.

The times she would come to your place unannounced, just to show you something that reminded her of you.

The times you would just exist. No need for words. No need for actions. Just both of you in the same space, comfortable.

There used to be so much love between you two.

The nicknames you had for each other. The inside jokes that no one else knew about. The looks you would give each other from across the room.

You knew the taste of her lips better than your own name. You knew where to kiss, to taste, to worship. Her moles, her scars, her tattoo, her hips, her waist, her neck, her shoulders, her wrist, and it would always lead back to her lips. “All roads lead to Rome,” they say, and Rome was her lips.

You'd trace every line and curve on her body with your tongue the way a blind man would read Braille. You worshipped her like the messiah. She was the promised land to your Moses, her body the Holy of Holies, parting her legs like the Red Sea as you knelt at her altar, and drown in her like an Israelite drinking from Marah.

Being with her was like sitting beside a fire on a cold night. It was cozy, and sometimes you would feel her hand on your back or her arm around your shoulders.

She had a habit of touching you, you could never keep yourself away from each other. 

Even now, the way she holds your hand and kisses your hand, it reminds you of the days when all the two of you did was touch and kiss.

But that was then, and this is now.

Instead of spending every minute with each other, you're now sitting across from each other at an empty table in a quiet diner with the ghost of your past relationship hanging over your heads.

You remember the cold moments.

The times you two would fight, scream, yell, sometimes cry.

The times she was distant and cold. The times you wished you could just understand her thoughts.

The times you both would argue and shout at each other and afterwards lay in your bed and just stare at the empty space between the both of you.

The times she'd lock herself in the bathroom and you'd stand outside, your heart breaking with every word you heard her utter.

The times you would wake up in the middle of the night and see her on the edge of the bed, facing away from you, her body trembling, and every single time you would reach for her, and every single time she would pull away.

The times she'd hold you close and you'd hug her back and you'd feel her body shake from stifled sobs, and you would tell her it was okay, even though you didn't know if you were trying to make it okay for her or yourself because nothing was okay.

The times you felt so lost and alone and you just wanted her to hold you, tell you you were going to be fine, but instead she'd give you a blank look and just stare at you, unable to understand how you were feeling because how could she when she was so disconnected from herself and the world around her?

The times you wondered if she still loved you as much as you loved her, because even when you thought she didn't, she would catch you off guard and surprise you with a joke or a smile or a laugh or just the way she'd take your breath away with the simplest things, and you'd feel her love in those little moments and you'd cherish them because those moments were fleeting.

You'd hang onto them desperately, hoping to preserve them, hoping to relive them in your mind over and over because you wanted to feel her love again.

But the feeling would fade so fast, because soon enough she'd be in those moods again, and you'd feel yourself slipping from her grasp more and more every day, and you just wanted to hold on in vain, hold on and hope it will get better, it had to get better, it would get better.

And for the first time in your life, you were tired.

Not of her, not ever of her. You never get tired of her, you never want to be without her. But at that moment, you were tired.

You were tired of trying to understand her, tired of trying to make everything okay, tired of feeling like your love for her wasn't reciprocated.

Just tired.

You never wanted to break up with her. You never wanted to leave her. You just wanted everything to stop. You just wanted a pause.

She was tired too, maybe more tired than you.

When you said, “I'm tired,” she took it personally. She thought you were tired of her, you were tired of the relationship, and you were tired of being with her.

So she left. She broke up with you.

You never expected her to do that.

You never expected her to walk away from you, just like that.

You thought that she would understand, you thought that she would know what you meant when you said you were tired. You thought she would know that you were tired of being the only one trying to make things work, tired of feeling like you're the only one who cares, tired of feeling like the only one who's making sacrifices.

She didn’t hear the words you were actually saying, the words, “I need a break, just a short break.”

She heard different words, words that said, “I'm done, I don't want to do this anymore.”

And she responded accordingly.

She ended things before you could end them on your own terms.

She broke up with you all because you said the wrong words and she heard the wrong words.

But the past is the past, and you can't stay there forever. Right now, you're here with her.

You feel her hand squeeze yours, and you look up to meet her eyes.

They're the same eyes you lost yourself in so many times before, the same eyes that used to be filled with love, affection, passion, and desire. All of a sudden, the past is so close. The feeling comes rushing back, and you can't let it go.

You realize that your boss was right. Something is still there. Something that hasn't faded away.

Was or is, it's still there.

Are you willing to try again?

You know it wouldn't be easy. You still remember every painful, difficult moment of your relationship. You still remember every stupid fight, every misunderstanding, every mistake, and every argument.

But those warm moments that bring up an ache in your chest when you remember them, they were real. You know they were real.

Maybe this time, it will work out. Maybe this time, both of you will learn from your mistakes. Maybe this time, you'll make a better effort to understand her. Maybe this time, you'll try harder to listen to her and make sure she understands that you don't mean anything differently than what you're saying.

Maybe this time, everything will be different.

It will be different. 

Maybe if things work out, you won't lose her a second time.

Just maybe… you can get things right this time.

It took you both long enough to realize that neither of you really wanted it to end, right? and now here you are, with her, and she's looking at you with those same beautiful eyes, and-

Maybe this time, things can change for the better.

You squeeze her hand back, and it's an answer without saying anything.

She sees it, and she smiles. She turns your hand and brings it again to her lips, pressing a kiss on your palm.

This time, she doesn't let your hand go.

You don't let go of her hand either.

missed a deadline for this, but that’s okay because it’s worth it, JINX IS WORTH IT!! 🤞

[rafesbuzzcutseason]

chasing city lights

chapter 10 - vulnerability

synopsis: you move to new york to start fresh, hoping to find comfort in the city’s atmosphere. that’s when you meet sarah cameron, where she takes you to a concert and you catch sight of the lead band member, rafe cameron. it only takes a moment for you to realize you’re captivated by him. as sarah helps you navigate your new life in the city, you start to get pulled deeper into rafe's world—the music, the fame, the chaos. the more you get to know him, the more you realise that rafe is not just the rock star he seems to be. he’s wrestling with his own demons, and the last thing he needs is someone like you getting close.

masterlist

cw: language, fluff central

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

you and rafe had spent the whole afternoon together and it had been everything and more. just like he had promised the other week, he was showing you around LA and never leaving your side.

the sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange as you walked along venice beach, his fingers brushing against yours in a way that made your heart race.

"you know," rafe said with a smile, glancing over at you, "i’m glad we’re doing this. not just the tour thing, but... you and me, this."

his words hit differently now, sitting down on the beach to watch the gentle waves and the sky change colours.

you looked over at him, "me too," you said softly, a smile tugging at your lips.

he grinned back, his playful energy still present, but a hint of seriousness took over him. "i've never done this before." he admitted.

"done what?" you asked him.

"caught feelings like this." he spoke softly, almost scared to say the words out loud.

you reached out to touch his cheek, "me neither rafe." you held his gaze, "there's still so much we have to learn about each other."

"i know, and that's what i'm scared of."

"why?" you questioned.

"i'm scared you won't like the version of me you uncover. i'm not good with my words but, i didn't used to be a good person. i was addicted to drugs, i bought girls home every night to fill a void, i was so unhappy and treated people so badly. but this," he stuck his hands out and pointed between the two of you, "i've never experienced this."

his truth taking you by surprise, but making your heart swell that he was opening up to you this way. "i'm not scared rafe. the rafe i know now is a good guy. i've never met someone like you and i want to know all parts of you even those that you think i won't like."

rafe let out a soft, almost shaky breath at your words. it was as if you had taken a weight off his shoulders without even realising it. his eyes softened, and the air between you two stilled for a moment.

his eyes didn't leave yours, no response was needed, but he pulled you in for a soft kiss full of emotion.

he pulled away to stare at you for a moment, searching your face for any sign of doubt, but there was none.

"i’ve been thinking about you a lot," he admitted, almost too quietly. "more than i thought i would. i know we’re still figuring things out, but i can’t help but want to be around you. want to be better because of you."

your heart fluttered at the honesty in his words, the vulnerability making you weak, all laid out in front you.

"rafe, you’re already better. you’ve made it this far and the fact that you're here with me, saying this stuff, shows me just how far you've come. you don’t have to prove anything."

his lips parted as if he was going to say something, but instead, he just smiled. without another word, he reached out, carefully taking your hand into his, the touch gentle, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

after many hours had passed of gentle touches and soft conversation, you headed back to the hotel in time to join the others and pack before your flight back home tomorrow.

your chest was full of happiness, feeling ready for what was to come.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

a/n: why am i crying writing this they are so cute i hate them

taglist: @hoefordrewstarkey @marleymarleymarleymarley @bee-43 @cherryhoneybabe @skye-44 @drewrry @drewrry  @yesterdaysproblemm @pogueprincesa @dylsdaily @rafeysworldim19 @valyrianflower @kaiparkerwifes @judesgfirl @4urvalidation @chillgal135 @drewstarkeyslover @yesshewrites1 @amterasuu@babykhloutofthisworld @blushmimi  @moonywhisp3rs @rafeysworldim19 @marleymarleymarleymarley @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @vcnillafairy @bambii1i @sammyrenae68

i will be taking people off taglist if that don't interact! just as more people want to be added and need to make it fair<3

[scarletwinterxx]

breaking the ice - chwe vernon scenario

scrolled through tiktok too much now i'm simping over vernon🫠

for my other svt fics, check them here

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

The cold air inside the ice rink nipped at your skin as you pulled your coat tighter around yourself. You weren’t much of a sports fan, but when your cousin, Chan, practically begged you to come watch his game, you couldn’t say no.

"It's gonna be fun! Just come once, and if you hate it, I won't ask again," he had insisted over the phone.

And that's how you found yourself in the bleachers, watching a group of guys in bulky gear chase a puck across the ice. You weren’t clueless—you knew the basic rules—but you weren’t about to start screaming at referees like some of the other fans. You were here for one reason: Chan.

The game was intense, fast-paced, and honestly more interesting than you expected. You followed your cousin’s movements as he skated past an opponent and passed the puck to a teammate. The crowd roared when the puck was slapped straight into the goal.

You clapped, smiling as Chan pumped his fist in the air. That’s my cousin, you thought proudly.

Then, your eyes drifted to the player who had taken the shot. Number 16. He skated back toward Chan, giving him a nod of acknowledgment before the two joined the rest of the team.

You squinted.

The name on the back of his jersey read "Chwe"

You weren’t sure why, but something about him stood out. He wasn’t showy like some of the other players who thrived on the crowd’s attention. He barely reacted after scoring, just gave a small nod before skating off.

"Who’s number 16?" you asked the girl sitting beside you, who had been squealing nonstop.

She gawked at you. "You don’t know Chwe Vernon?!"

You blinked. "Should I?"

She looked at you like you had just committed a crime. "He's literally one of the best players on the team! And super famous! His family's Korean-American, and he's been playing since he was a kid. How do you not know him?"

You shrugged. "I don’t really follow hockey."

The girl sighed dramatically. "You’re missing out. He’s, like, effortlessly cool and insanely good."

You turned back to the rink, watching as Vernon—Chwe Vernon, apparently—glided across the ice. Effortlessly cool, huh? You weren’t convinced.

After the game, you waited for Chan outside the locker rooms. The hallway was filled with people—some reporters, some fans, all hoping to catch a glimpse of the players.

When the team finally emerged, Chan spotted you instantly. "Hey!" He grinned, walking over. His hair was damp from the shower, and he still had a towel draped around his neck. "So? Did I impress you?"

"You did great," you said, ruffling his hair, making him groan. "Proud cousin moment."

"Good. I need you to come to more games for good luck."

"Don't push it," you teased.

Before he could respond, someone else walked past you—number 16. Vernon.

Chan called out to him. "Hyung!"

Vernon turned his head slightly, slowing his pace. Up close, you noticed how sharp his features were. He had this laid-back, unreadable expression, like nothing ever surprised him.

Chan gestured toward you. "This is my cousin, the one I told you about."

You arched a brow. "You talked about me?"

Chan ignored you. "This is Vernon."

Vernon gave you a short nod. "Hey."

That was it. Just one word. No handshake, no smile.

You crossed your arms. "Wow, you’re a real talker, huh?"

Chan coughed, trying to stifle a laugh.

Vernon just blinked. "Not really."

You stared at him, waiting for him to say more. He didn't. This guy was something else.

"Well, okay" you said your name, breaking the silence. "Since we’re introducing ourselves and all."

He nodded again. "Cool."

You squinted at him. "Do you always talk in one-word sentences?"

He tilted his head slightly, as if considering your question. "Depends."

You exhaled sharply, turning to Chan. "I’m leaving. This guy’s impossible."

Chan laughed. "That’s just how he is."

You gave Vernon one last glance. He wasn’t unfriendly, just... different. Quiet. Detached.

And yet, something about him made you curious.

A few days later, Chan texted you.

Chan: Come to our next game. You: Why? Chan: Because I bet Vernon you wouldn’t come. You: …You bet on me? Chan: Yeah. He said you wouldn’t bother. I said you would. You: What do I get if I show up? Chan: The satisfaction of proving Vernon wrong. You: Tempting. Chan: Also, if I win, Vernon has to buy me dinner. So do it for me.

You sighed, staring at the text. You weren’t the type to back down from a challenge. Contemplating for only a few moments before shooting Chan one last message saying you'd go.

And maybe, just maybe, you’d get a reaction out of Vernon this time.

The next game rolled around quicker than expected. You hadn’t initially planned to attend, but the thought of proving Vernon wrong was too tempting.

So there you were, sitting in the bleachers again, this time with a smirk on your face as you spotted number 16 skating onto the ice.

Chan was the first to notice you. From where he stood, he shot you a triumphant grin, raising his fist in victory. You lifted your hand in a mock salute, acknowledging the win.

Vernon, on the other hand, took a bit longer to spot you. When he did, you could swear there was a brief flicker of surprise in his usually impassive expression. His eyes met yours for a split second before he coolly looked away. No reaction, no acknowledgment—just Vernon being Vernon.

Oh, so that’s how he wanted to play it? Fine.

The game started, and as expected, it was intense. You found yourself getting more invested than last time, especially when Chan assisted in another goal. But what caught your attention the most was Vernon. He was ridiculously fast on the ice, his movements so fluid and effortless that it was almost unfair to the opposing team.

By the time the final buzzer rang, their team had won. The crowd erupted into cheers, and even you found yourself clapping.

Chan was practically bouncing when he ran over to you after the game. “Ha! Told you! I knew you’d come.”

You smirked. “Enjoy your free dinner.”

Before Chan could respond, Vernon walked up behind him. His damp hair clung slightly to his forehead, and he looked as composed as ever despite just finishing a game.

“You actually showed up,” he said, voice neutral.

“I did.” You crossed your arms. “Surprised?”

He shrugged. “A little.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Not gonna admit you were wrong?”

He blinked, considering. “Nope.”

Chan burst out laughing. “He’d rather die than say that.”

You turned back to Vernon. “Well, I did come. So now you owe Chan dinner. Hope you have deep pockets.”

Vernon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess I do.”

You weren’t sure why, but the idea of Vernon being slightly inconvenienced by this bet made you a little too satisfied.

Chan clapped a hand on Vernon’s shoulder. “Since I’m getting a free meal, you should come too.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Me?”

Chan nodded. “Yeah, you’re the reason I won the bet. Might as well let you enjoy the victory too.”

You glanced at Vernon, half-expecting him to protest, but he just nodded. “Up to you.”

You weren’t sure if he genuinely didn’t care or if he was just going along with it because Chan said so. Either way, you weren’t about to back down.

“Fine,” you said. “Let’s go.”

You ended up at a small Korean barbecue place not too far from the rink. It wasn’t fancy, but it smelled amazing. Vernon, true to his word, paid without complaint, though you noticed he didn’t exactly look thrilled about it. You didn’t feel bad in the slightest.

As the food started cooking, Chan filled the silence with his usual chatter. You had always liked how easygoing he was, able to carry conversations without effort.

“So,” Chan said, turning to Vernon. “What do you think of my cousin?”

You nearly choked on your drink. “What kind of question is that?”

Chan grinned mischievously. “I just wanna know. Vernon’s not really a people person, so I’m curious.”

You turned your gaze to Vernon, expecting some deadpan answer like “She’s fine” or “She exists.”

Instead, he looked directly at you and said, “She’s different.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Different how?”

He tilted his head slightly, considering his words. “Most people try too hard. You don’t.”

You blinked. That was… surprisingly insightful.

Chan nodded approvingly. “That’s a compliment, by the way. Vernon doesn’t say much, but when he does, he means it.”

You studied Vernon for a moment. He was still as unreadable as ever, but now you were intrigued. “Well, thanks, I guess.”

Dinner continued with casual conversation, mostly dominated by Chan. Vernon remained quiet but occasionally chimed in with a dry comment that made you laugh more than expected.

By the end of the night, you realized something strange.

You didn’t dislike him.

In fact, you kind of wanted to see what it would take to get a real reaction out of him.

A week later, you got an unexpected text from Chan.

Chan: You’re not gonna believe this. You: What? Chan: Vernon just asked if you were coming to the next game. You: …You’re lying. Chan: I’m dead serious. He just asked me out of nowhere.

You stared at your phone, processing.

Vernon? Asking about you?

Interesting.

You: Tell him to ask me himself. Chan: LMAO you’re evil.

A few minutes later, another text came in.

Unknown Number: Are you coming? - Vernon

You smirked. So he finally cracked.

This was going to be fun.

Sitting at your desk, you stretched your arms, feeling the exhaustion settle into your bones. The clock on your laptop read 11:47 PM, and you still weren’t done with the reports your supervisor had asked for last minute.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. You hadn’t expected your internship to be this demanding, but then again, you had never been the type to slack off. If you were going to do something, you were going to do it well.

Your phone buzzed beside you.

Vernon: Heard you were busy.

You blinked. Of all people, he was texting you? You smirked, quickly typing back.

You: Look at you, sending full sentences. I’m impressed.

A few seconds passed before the typing bubble appeared.

Vernon: I can type. You: Could’ve fooled me.

You leaned back in your chair, biting your lip. Was it bad that you found this amusing?

You weren’t expecting another text, but then—

Vernon: …You gonna come next time?

Your eyebrows raised slightly. So he did notice you weren’t there.

You debated your response, then decided to push his buttons a little.

You: Why? Did you miss me?

This time, the reply didn’t come immediately. You wondered if you had caught him off guard.

Finally, after a minute—

Vernon: Maybe.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard.

You: …Huh. Didn’t expect that. Vernon: Yeah. Me neither.

That made you pause.

You had been joking before, but now… was he actually admitting something?

You stared at your screen for a moment before shaking your head. No way. This is Vernon. He doesn’t just say things like that.

You decided to test the waters.

You: Careful, Chwe. Almost sounded like you like having me around.

This time, his reply came quicker.

Vernon: Don’t get ahead of yourself. You: Good night, hockey boy. Vernon: Night.

Setting your phone down, you exhaled. That was unexpected.

And oddly… kind of nice.

A few days passed, and you found yourself back to your usual routine—internship, assignments, barely enough time to breathe.

You hadn’t planned on going to the next hockey game either, but then Chan called. "Please," he whined over the phone. "Vernon’s been weird since you didn’t come last time."

You frowned. "Weird how?"

"I don’t know! Just… quiet."

You snorted. "Vernon’s always quiet."

"Yeah, but this time it’s different. Like he’s thinking about something."

That made you pause.

"Are you telling me you think Vernon missed me?" you teased.

Chan groaned. "I’m saying something’s up with him, and I think you should come see for yourself."

You hesitated. You really didn’t have the time, but… now you were curious.

"Fine," you said, "but if I show up and he acts the same, you owe me coffee."

Chan laughed. "Deal."

When you stepped into the ice rink the following evening, the familiar chill made you shiver. You spotted the team warming up, Chan already waving at you from the ice.

Your eyes flickered to Vernon.

He was stretching near the goal, looking as calm and composed as ever. But when he turned his head and spotted you in the stands, something shifted in his expression. It wasn’t dramatic—just a small pause, a barely-there flicker of acknowledgment.

Then, as if nothing happened, he looked away.

You smirked.

Yeah. He definitely noticed.

As the game started, you found yourself watching him more closely. He was fast, efficient, never wasted movement. But every now and then, when there was a break in play, you swore he glanced in your direction.

By the time the game ended, you were already preparing a sarcastic remark for when you saw him.

Chan met you outside the locker room first. "Told you he was acting weird."

You shrugged. "He looks the same to me."

"Trust me," Chan said, "for Vernon, that was basically a full-blown confession."

Before you could respond, Vernon appeared in the hallway. His damp hair fell over his forehead, his usual quiet presence making him seem effortlessly cool.

"You’re here," he said, stopping in front of you.

You crossed your arms. "You sound surprised."

He met your gaze. "A little."

You tilted your head. "Miss me?"

Vernon exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "You always ask that."

"And you never give me an answer."

He paused, then—

"Maybe."

You blinked. Well that was new. Before you could say anything, he walked past you, heading toward the exit. But as he did, he spoke just loud enough for you to hear

"See you next game."

You stared after him, lips slowly curling into a smile.

Another game day.

The rink buzzed with energy as another game night rolled in. The usual excitement from the crowd filled the air, fans from both teams eager to see their favorites go head-to-head.

Vernon adjusted his helmet as he skated onto the ice, his mind focused—until Chan nudged him.

“Look,” Chan said, nodding toward the stands.

Vernon followed his gaze, and there you were.

His brow furrowed slightly. He wasn’t expecting you. Usually, you’d give Chan a heads-up if you were coming.

“Guess she had time after all,” Chan muttered, but there was something in his tone—something suspicious.

Before Vernon could ask, his eyes flickered to the opposing team warming up. That’s when he saw it. You weren’t just watching the game. You were standing near the barrier, laughing. With him.

Lee Seokmin.

Forward for the rival team. Loud, energetic, and way too familiar with you.

Vernon’s grip on his stick tightened slightly as he watched Seokmin grin at you, leaning against the boards like this was some casual meet-up and not a competitive match.

Chan turned to Vernon, eyes wide. “Did I miss something, or do they know each other?”

“I don’t know,” Vernon said flatly, but now he really wanted to.

After warm-ups, the team headed back to the locker room. Vernon kept quiet, but Chan wasn’t letting this go.

“Okay, seriously,” he said, shoving his helmet into his bag. “What is going on? Why is my cousin talking to Seokmin?”

Joshua, another teammate, overheard and raised an eyebrow. “Wait, your cousin? She knows Seokmin?”

“I don’t know!” Chan said, exasperated. “She didn’t tell me anything.”

Vernon untied his skates, processing. He wasn’t sure why this bugged him, but it did. You weren’t the type to be friendly just for the sake of it—so if you were joking around with Seokmin, there had to be history there.

And for some reason, that annoyed him.

After the game, which ended in a close win for Vernon’s team, you were waiting outside the locker room.

Chan wasted no time. “Alright,” he said, crossing his arms. “Explain.”

You blinked. “Explain what?”

He gestured toward the rink. “Why were you laughing it up with Seokmin before the game?”

You gave him a look. “Because we’re friends?”

Chan’s eyes narrowed. “Since when?”

You sighed, already predicting this reaction. “We used to date. A long time ago. Now we’re just friends.”

Chan’s jaw dropped. Vernon, standing next to him, simply blinked.

“…You dated him?” Chan asked, as if the words didn’t make sense together.

“For, like, five months. It wasn’t that serious.”

Vernon finally spoke. “Why’d you break up?”

You turned to him, surprised he even asked. “We were better off as friends.”

Vernon’s expression didn’t change, but he held your gaze for a beat longer than usual.

Chan, still recovering, groaned. “I feel betrayed.”

You laughed. “Relax, it’s not that deep.”

Seokmin’s voice interrupted. “Are we talking about me?”

You turned to see Seokmin approaching, still in his team jacket, his ever-present grin in place.

Chan groaned louder. “Oh my god.”

Seokmin laughed, nudging you. “Did you tell them how you used to cheer for my team?”

You smirked. “I left that part out.”

Chan looked like he was about to collapse. “This is so much worse than I thought.”

Vernon, still quiet, glanced between you and Seokmin before saying, “So you’re just friends now?”

You nodded. “Yeah”

He doesn't say anything after that but you could tell there was definitely a reason. And you weren’t going to let it go unnoticed. Meanwhile, Chan was still staring at you like you had just confessed to some deep, dark secret.

“Wait, wait, wait.” He held up a hand. “You mean to tell me that all this time, you and Seokmin—”

“Dated?” Seokmin finished helpfully, grinning. “Yeah, man. Keep up.”

Chan dramatically pressed a hand to his forehead. “How did I not know this? How did no one tell me?”

You shrugged. “We broke up before you even joined the team, and it wasn’t that serious. Plus, you were busy with your own stuff.”

Chan looked genuinely offended. “I feel like I should have felt it or something. Like a disturbance in the Force.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, Jedi.”

Meanwhile, Vernon was watching the entire conversation with his usual unreadable expression, but something about his posture was different. He was listening.

Seokmin clapped a hand on Chan’s shoulder. “It’s okay, buddy. You’re just slow.”

Chan smacked his hand away. “I’m not slow, I just—ugh! This is so weird!”

You smirked. “Why? Because you hate the idea of me dating anyone or because it’s Seokmin?”

“…Both.” Chan groaned. “This is, like, finding out your best friend and your worst enemy were secretly besties behind your back.”

Seokmin gasped. “Worst enemy? I thought we were friends!”

“You’re my rival, not my friend,” Chan shot back.

Seokmin patted his shoulder. “Rival is just another word for friend who won’t admit it.”

You stifled a laugh as Chan let out another dramatic groan. But while Chan was too busy overreacting, Vernon was still quiet.

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “You good, hockey boy?”

His eyes flickered to yours, and for a second, he hesitated. Then, in his usual calm voice, he said, “Just surprised. That’s all.”

Seokmin grinned. “Vernon, don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

Vernon blinked at him. “Why would I be?”

Seokmin shrugged. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

For a fraction of a second, you swore you saw a flicker of something in Vernon’s expression. Annoyance? Amusement? Something in between?

But, as always, he kept it cool. “Not jealous.”

“Sure,” Seokmin said, clearly not convinced.

You smirked, deciding to push Vernon a little. “I was a great girlfriend.”

Vernon’s eyes flicked to yours again, this time holding your gaze.

“Yeah?” he asked, voice unreadable.

You tilted your head. “Yeah.”

A slow, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Seokmin looked between the two of you and let out a low whistle. “Huh. Interesting.”

Chan narrowed his eyes. “Don’t say it.”

Seokmin grinned. “I think your cousin has a new favorite hockey player.”

Chan groaned for the fourth time. “I hate everything about tonight.”

You just laughed. But the thing was—Seokmin might not have been entirely wrong.

The night air was crisp as you stepped into the parking lot with Chan and Vernon. The game had ended, and while the rivalry on the ice had been intense, the real battle had been you versus Chan’s endless questions about Seokmin.

Vernon had offered to drive both of you home, claiming it was “on the way,” but you were starting to suspect he just wanted to witness the soap opera unfolding in real time.

Chan, still in full interrogation mode, walked beside you. “Okay, but seriously—how did it even start?”

You sighed, exasperated. “I already told you, Chan. We dated, we broke up, we’re friends now. That’s it.”

Chan scoffed. “That’s not it! I need details. Like, who made the first move?”

Seokmin’s grinning face flashed in your mind. “He did.”

Chan gasped dramatically. “Seokmin made the first move?! What did he do, trip over his own skates and land in your lap?”

You laughed. “No, idiot. He was actually really sweet.”

Vernon unlocked the car and got in without a word, letting Chan get it all out of his system before the drive even started.

As soon as you all settled inside, Chan still wasn’t done.

“So let me get this straight,” he continued from the passenger seat, twisting around to face you. “You, my very strong, very independent cousin, voluntarily dated a hockey player?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, Chan. I, a normal human being, dated another normal human being. Groundbreaking.”

Chan shook his head, like this was the biggest scandal of the century. “You always said you’d never date an athlete.”

“Right,” you deadpanned. “Which is why I’m never dating a hockey player again.”

Vernon, silent up until now, suddenly coughed beside Chan. Both you and Chan turned to him.

Vernon kept his eyes on the road, shifting gears like nothing happened.

Chan squinted. “You good?”

Vernon nodded, completely unfazed. “Yeah. Just dry air.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Uh-huh.”

Chan threw his hands up. “Okay, now I really need to know what went down.”

You sighed dramatically. “Do you really want to hear about my tragic love story, or do you want Vernon to get us home in one piece?”

Chan hesitated before reluctantly turning back around. “Fine. But this conversation isn’t over.”

From the driver’s seat, Vernon finally spoke again—his voice smooth, unreadable.

“Yeah,” he murmured, eyes still on the road. “I bet it isn’t.”

Something about the way he said it made you glance at him again. Maybe it was just your imagination. Or maybe, just maybe, Vernon was thinking about how you might not keep that promise after all.

The hum of the engine filled the car as Vernon smoothly maneuvered through the late-night traffic. The city lights blurred past, casting fleeting shadows across his face. You sat in the backseat, arms crossed, while Chan sat in the passenger seat, still digesting your revelation about Seokmin.

"Okay," Chan started again, shifting to look at you, "so you’re telling me you went from hating the idea of dating an athlete to actually dating one?"

You groaned. "Chan—"

"No, no," he interrupted, waving his hands. "I just need to understand the timeline. When did this betrayal happen?"

Vernon let out a short breath, which you swore sounded like a laugh, though his face remained unreadable.

"You make it sound like I committed a crime," you said, rolling your eyes. "It was, like, a year and a half ago."

Chan gasped. "A year and a half ago?! That recently? And I’m just finding out now?"

"Look, it wasn’t a big deal," you said. "We went on a few dates, had fun, realized we were better as friends, and that was that."

Vernon, still focused on the road, finally spoke. "You broke up with him?"

You glanced at him through the rearview mirror. His voice was as calm as ever, but something about the way he asked made you curious.

"Technically, yeah," you admitted.

Chan groaned again. "Of course you broke up with him. You probably made him think it was his idea, too." Seokmin had been a little blindsided, but you weren’t about to admit that.

"You say that like it’s a bad thing," you said, smirking.

Chan turned back to Vernon. "See? This is why I tell people not to mess with my cousin. She’s too powerful."

Vernon finally looked at you through the mirror, his gaze unreadable. "Yeah," he murmured, "I can see that."

Something about the way he said it made your stomach flip.

Chan, oblivious, continued his rant. "But seriously, what did he do that made you swear off hockey players forever? Did he forget your anniversary? Get too competitive?"

You shrugged. "Nah. I just don’t want to deal with the whole team rivalries, constant traveling, always being second to the sport thing. Hockey players are a lot of work."

Vernon coughed again.

Chan turned to him, frowning. "Dude, do you need water?"

Vernon cleared his throat. "I’m fine."

You smirked. "Are you sure? You seem… distracted."

Vernon glanced at you briefly before returning his focus to the road. "Just listening."

"Hmm." You leaned back. "Well, anyway, I learned my lesson. I’m sticking to normal people now."

Chan snorted. "Normal people?"

"Yeah. You know—guys with normal schedules, normal jobs, no risk of getting concussed every other week."

Vernon’s hands flexed on the steering wheel.

Chan laughed. "I give it two months before you go back on that."

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And why is that?"

"Because," Chan said, smirking, "you like the chaos too much. Admit it, you love being involved in hockey drama. You thrive on it."

You gasped, pretending to be offended. "Excuse me! I am very peaceful."

Vernon finally spoke again, his tone deadpan. "Sure."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Are you siding with Chan?"

"I mean," Vernon said, shrugging, "you are sitting in a hockey player’s car, after attending a hockey game, while arguing about hockey."

Chan burst out laughing. "Oh my god, he’s got a point."

You huffed. "Okay, fine. Maybe I tolerate the chaos. But that doesn’t mean I’ll date another hockey player."

Vernon didn’t say anything but when you glanced at him through the mirror again, he had the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips.

Like he knew something you didn’t.

The rest of the ride was quieter. Chan was scrolling through his phone, occasionally making dramatic sighs about his “betrayal,” while Vernon drove smoothly through the streets.

At one point, you rested your chin on your hand, watching the buildings blur past. Despite the chaos of the evening, there was something… nice about being in Vernon’s car. He was steady, dependable. Even with Chan’s endless commentary, he never seemed irritated. Just patient.

When Vernon finally pulled up to Chan’s place, your cousin unbuckled his seatbelt and sighed dramatically. "Alright, I guess I’ll forgive you. For now."

You smirked. "Gee, thanks."

Chan opened the door but paused, glancing between you and Vernon. Then, with a knowing smirk, he said, "You two have fun."

Before you could question him, he hopped out and disappeared inside.

You scoffed. "What was that about?"

Vernon hummed. "Not sure."

But he definitely looked like he knew. with Chan gone, the car suddenly felt… quieter.

Vernon shifted slightly, one hand resting on the gear shift. "Where to?"

You blinked. "Huh?"

"Your place," he said simply. "Where is it?"

"Oh." You gave him the directions, and he nodded, smoothly pulling back onto the road. For a few minutes, neither of you spoke. It wasn’t awkward, though. Just… different.

"So," Vernon finally said, glancing at you through the mirror, "never dating a hockey player again?"

You smirked. "That’s the plan."

"Hmm." He didn’t sound convinced.

You tilted your head. "Why? You don’t think I can do it?"

Vernon let out a small breath—almost a chuckle. "I just think… you might change your mind."

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what makes you say that?"

He slowed to a stop at a red light, then turned his head slightly, meeting your eyes.

"Just a feeling," he said simply.

You held his gaze, searching for something—anything—in his expression. But, as always, Vernon was unreadable. Calm. Completely in control.

Yet, for some reason, your heart did a weird little flip.

You scoffed, looking away. "Well, I hate to break it to you, but I’m done with hockey boys."

Vernon tapped his fingers against the wheel. "Mm."

The light turned green, and he pulled forward. And though he didn’t say anything else, the ghost of a smirk lingered on his lips.

When he finally pulled up in front of your building, he put the car in park but didn’t move to unlock the doors yet. Instead, he rested his wrist on the steering wheel and turned his head slightly toward you.

"You sure about that?"

You blinked. "Huh?"

He kept his gaze on you, calm and unreadable. "About being done with hockey players."

You scoffed. "Yeah, I’m sure."

Vernon hummed, like he wasn’t convinced.

Your eyes narrowed. "Why? You think I’m lying?"

He shrugged, like it didn’t matter. "I think people say things they don’t mean all the time."

You frowned. "Well, I do mean it."

Vernon tilted his head, studying you like you were some kind of puzzle he was trying to solve. Then, after a moment, he said, "Wanna bet?"

Your brows shot up. "Excuse me?"

He leaned back, resting his arm on the car door. "Bet me that you won’t date another hockey player."

You let out an incredulous laugh. "What are we, twelve?"

Vernon just raised an eyebrow, waiting.

You rolled your eyes. "Fine. What’s at stake?"

His lips curled slightly—barely noticeable, but there. "Winner gets whatever they want."

You raised a skeptical brow. "Like… money?"

Vernon shook his head. "Nope."

"Then what?"

He exhaled through his nose, thinking for a second before saying, "Bragging rights."

"That’s it?"

"That’s it," Vernon confirmed.

You squinted at him. "You’re really so confident that I’ll cave and date another hockey player?"

Vernon didn’t even hesitate. "Yeah."

Something about his unwavering confidence made you cross your arms. "Okay, fine. It’s a bet. I will never date another hockey player again."

Vernon nodded. "Cool." Then, finally, he reached over and unlocked the doors.

You narrowed your eyes. "Wait. What happens if I win?"

His lips twitched slightly, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Then you get to rub it in my face."

You smirked. "Oh, I will."

Vernon just shrugged, like he wasn’t worried in the slightest.

That irritated you even more.

"Goodnight, hockey boy," you said, reaching for the door handle.

Vernon’s response was so quiet you almost didn’t catch it. "Goodnight," he murmured. Then, as you stepped out, he added, "See you around."

Something about the way he said it sent a shiver down your spine.

Like he already knew how this was going to end.

Like he was just waiting.

The bet was stupid.

You knew it was stupid the second you agreed to it, and yet… it bothered you. Not because you thought you’d lose—because you wouldn’t. There was no way you’d fall for another hockey player.

No, what bothered you was Vernon’s confidence. The way he’d looked at you, calm and collected, like he already knew how this would play out. Like he wasn’t guessing, but rather waiting.

And that? That was infuriating.

So you did the only logical thing.

You ignored it.

For an entire week, you threw yourself into work, into your internship, into anything that would keep you too busy to think about Vernon or his stupid, smug little bet.

And it worked. Kind of.

When you arrived at the rink, you told yourself you were not looking for him.

You weren’t scanning the ice, weren’t checking the players warming up, weren’t—

Oh.

There he was.

Vernon stood near the bench, adjusting his gloves, looking annoyingly good in his gear. He wasn’t flashy like some of the other guys, but he had this effortless kind of presence—calm, confident, and completely unbothered.

Which only made you more bothered.

You turned back to Chan. "I hate you for bringing me here."

Chan grinned. "Love you too, cousin."

A whistle blew, signaling the players to line up, and as Vernon skated past, he glanced toward the stands. His eyes found yours immediately.

And then—he smirked. Like he knew you’d be here.

Your stomach flipped, and you immediately turned to Chan. "I take it back. I really hate you."

Chan just laughed. "No, you don’t."

The game started, and you did your best to focus. But it was hard when you were hyper-aware of one player in particular and every time you told yourself you were imagining things, that Vernon wasn’t paying any special attention to you.

He’d prove you wrong.

A glance before a faceoff. A lingering look after a goal. A subtle smirk every time he skated near your side of the rink.

And the worst part?

You knew he was doing it on purpose.

By the time the game ended, you were fully prepared to never attend another one again.

You tried to ignore Vernon.

You really did.

But ignoring Vernon was impossible when he wasn’t ignoring you.

Every game you attended, he’d look for you. Every time he saw you, there was a smirk, a glance, a knowing look that said I’m still winning.

And the worst part?

You caught yourself looking for him too.

It was small things at first—wondering if he’d be at the team hangouts, noticing when he was not at practice, catching yourself staring a second too long during games.

You were slipping.

And you hated it.

You were officially avoiding Vernon.

It wasn’t obvious avoidance. You weren’t hiding behind corners or diving into bushes when you saw him. No, you were subtle.

You stopped showing up to games as often. You made excuses whenever Chan invited you to team hangouts. You even started leaving early when you knew Vernon might be around.

And for a while, it worked.

Until it didn’t.

Because Vernon wasn’t stupid.

And unfortunately for you, he was patient.

He wasn’t mad you were avoiding him. He wasn’t giving up.

He was just waiting. Waiting for you to stop fighting yourself. Waiting for you to let yourself have something good. And somehow that was worse because you could handle anger.

But patience?

Patience made you want to give in.

It happened at a café. You were minding your own business, fully immersed in your laptop, when suddenly a chair scraped against the floor in front of you.

You looked up and there he was.

Vernon.

Sitting across from you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You blinked. "What—"

"You’re avoiding me," he said.

You scoffed. "No, I’m not."

"You are."

"I’m busy."

Vernon nodded. "Sure."

You clenched your jaw. "I am."

Vernon took a sip of his coffee, completely unbothered. "You were at every game before. Then, suddenly, you’re not. Feels personal."

"It’s not," you lied.

"Right."

You exhaled sharply, tapping your fingers against the table. "Is this why you sat here? To call me out?"

"Partly," Vernon admitted.

"And the other part?"

He tilted his head. "I missed you."

Your brain short-circuited. "Excuse me?"

Vernon shrugged. "It was more fun when you were around."

You stared at him. "Are you messing with me?"

"Nope."

"Vernon."

"Hm?"

"You’re being weird."

He smirked. "Or maybe you just don’t know how to deal with me being serious."

Your stomach flipped. Okay. This was dangerous territory. He was right and your brain can't process the situation, you're so used to his one word remarks and nonchalance. But this feels like something your heart isn't prepared for.

You forced a laugh. "Nice try, but I’m not falling for it."

Vernon leaned back, watching you closely. "You sure?"

You clenched your jaw. "Yes."

"Okay," he said easily.

After a while he did leave you alone, even though he wanted to stay and banter with you some more because these days it seems that his main source of entertainment is to get under your skin. Coach called for a meeting. After a quick goodbye you find yourself alone again.

Later that day though, Chan came to your apartment. The moment you saw Chan, you regretted telling him anything.

Because instead of sympathy, he just grinned.

"You’re doomed."

You glared at him. "I am not."

"Vernon likes you."

You crossed your arms. "He does not."

"Okay, and you like him."

"Chan."

"You’re in denial."

You groaned. "Can you be normal for once?"

Chan ignored you. "You realize Vernon is going to win, right?"

"He isn’t."

"Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that."

You threw a pillow at him.

It happened at the worst possible time. You were at another game (against your better judgment), sitting next to Chan, when the unthinkable happened... Vernon scored.

And you.... you cheered. Loudly. Enthusiastically.

And worst of all?

Vernon heard.

He turned immediately, locking eyes with you from across the rink.

Vernon, still looking at you, winked.

You were still recovering from what happened during the game. The team had won, meaning the energy in the rink was electric. Fans cheered, players celebrated, and you?

You were debating leaving immediately before Vernon found you. But before you could execute your escape Chan grabbed your arm. "Oh no. You’re not running away."

You scowled. "I’m not running. I just have things to do."

"Like avoiding Vernon?"

"Exactly."

Chan shook his head, dragging you toward the locker rooms. "Nope. You’re gonna face your feelings like an adult."

"I am an adult. And my adult decision is denial."

"That’s not how it works."

"It’s worked for me so far."

Chan ignored you, you hear the pushing open of the locker room door before Chan screams "Hey, Vernon! Your biggest fan is here."

You smacked Chan’s arm. "I hate you."

"Hey."

Vernon.

Standing right there, fresh out of the shower, towel around his neck, still slightly damp from the game and he's looking directly at you.

Chan grinned. "I’ll leave you two alone."

You turned sharply. "You traitor—"

But he was already gone. You were going to kill him. You thought but first you had to deal with Vernon.

"Good game."

Vernon smirked. "I could tell. You were very excited when I scored."

You rolled your eyes. "It was an automatic reaction."

"Right."

"It’s called sportsmanship."

"Uh-huh."

You exhaled sharply. "You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?"

"A little," he admitted.

You crossed your arms. "If you’re expecting me to confess I like you, it’s not happening."

Vernon hummed. "You just did, though."

Your jaw dropped. "I did not."

"You said, ‘if you’re expecting me to confess I like you,’ which implies there’s something to confess."

You blinked. "I hate you."

Vernon grinned. "No, you don’t."

You clenched your fists. "This is a nightmare."

Vernon tilted his head. "So… when are you taking me on a date?"

You nearly choked. "Excuse me?"

"You lost the bet, right?"

"I did not lose the bet!"

You were completely and utterly screwed.

You should have known he wouldn’t let you get away with avoiding him because, a few days later, he showed up outside the building where you were doing your internship. You nearly dropped your bag when you spotted him standing near the entrance.

"What the hell are you doing here?" you hissed, marching up to him.

Vernon looked amused. "Visiting."

"Visiting who?"

"You."

You stared at him. "Why?"

Vernon shoved his hands in his pockets, looking far too casual. "Because you’re avoiding me."

"I am not avoiding you."

"You are."

You groaned. "Why do you do this?"

Vernon tilted his head. "Because it’s fun."

"For who?"

He smirked. "Me." You were going to lose your mind. You were seriously debating throwing your very heavy tote bag at him and his smug face.

Vernon glanced past you into the building. "So, this is where you spend all your time now?"

"Yes," you said firmly. "Because I’m busy."

Vernon nodded. "So busy you don’t have time for a date?"

Your brain short-circuited.

"What?"

Vernon shrugged. "A date. With me."

You blinked at him. "You’re joking."

"I’m not."

You stared. "You do remember the bet, right?"

"Yep."

"And that I refuse to date another hockey player?"

Vernon nodded. "Still waiting on that to work out for you."

You exhaled sharply. "I’m not dating you."

"Yet," Vernon added.

"Ever."

"We’ll see."

"STOP SAYING THAT" you all but scream at him, the way he's looking at you right now is making you want to pull all your hair out.

Vernon smirked, taking a step closer. "Admit it. You like me."

You scowled. "I will never admit that."

Vernon hummed. "Okay."

Too calm.

Too smug.

You knew he didn’t believe you and somehow, that was infinitely worse. You had spent days trying to push down the realization that you might actually—God forbid—like Vernon. And somehow, in those same days, he got worse.

Not in an annoying way.

No.

Vernon had started being… sweet. Not the obvious kind. Not the cheesy, over-the-top, grand gestures kind. But Vernon’s kind.

Small things.

Subtle things.

Things that made you notice how well he knew you. Like how he always made sure you had a seat at the games, whether you said you were coming or not. Or how he started bringing you coffee without asking, without a word just sliding it in front of you at the rink like it was normal.

Or how, when you stayed late at your internship, your phone would buzz with a single text:

Vernon: Don’t walk home alone. I’ll pick you up.

(And when you argued, he’d just show up anyway.)

It was infuriating.

Because it was working.

And somehow, you were losing the bet in real time.

It happened after a late game.

You weren’t supposed to go. You had convinced yourself you wouldn’t go and yet you find yourself sitting at the bleachers again waiting for the game to finish.

You blamed Chan. (And also yourself.)

You stayed after, waiting for Chan, when suddenly a hoodie dropped over your head. You startled, pulling it off. "What the—"

You turned and Vernon was there. He looked at you, completely unaffected. "It’s cold."

You blinked. "I—what—"

"Just wear it."

You hesitated, staring down at it.

It was his hoodie.

Still warm. Still smelling like him.

And for some reason you put it on. You didn't put up a fight, didn't say another snarky remark. You just put it on. Vernon nodded, satisfied, then leaned against the wall next to you.

Neither of you spoke. For the first time, it wasn’t teasing, wasn’t banter.

It was just—quiet.

"You know," Vernon said suddenly, "I like you."

Your breath caught.

You turned to him. "What?"

Vernon exhaled, tilting his head to look at you. "I like you."

Just like that. No hesitation. No we’ll see. No denial.

Just the truth.

You swallowed, avoiding his eyes now. You put your hands inside the pocket of his hoodie, toying with your fingers as you look at anywhere but him.

"You’re just saying that because you want to win."

Vernon shook his head. "I already won."

You stared at him. "You did not—"

"You’re wearing my hoodie."

You opened your mouth then closed it.

Because damn it—he was right.

And the worst part? For the first time you didn’t want to fight it.

After that, it's like everything was normal again. For Vernon, not for you. You had not recovered from Vernon’s confession. Mostly because he didn’t bring it up again. No teasing. No rubbing it in.

He just—let it sit which somehow made it worse because now, you were the one thinking about it.

About him.

About how easy it would be to just… give in.

And then one night, after another late shift, you walked outside and found him waiting leaning against his car. Hands in his pockets.

Like it was normal.

You sighed. "Vernon—"

"I know," he said. "You didn’t ask me to come."

You stared at him. "Then why did you?"

Vernon shrugged. "Because I knew you’d be tired."

Your chest tightened. You swallowed. "You really like me, huh?" you say, voice barely a whisper but he heard you. He heard you loud and clear.

"Yeah."

You like Vernon.

You like Vernon not just in a haha, he’s annoying but funny way. Not just in a he’s hot but I’d never admit it way but in a real, terrifying, no-going-back way and the realization hit you so hard that you had to physically sit down.

Chan, ever the menace, noticed immediately. "Oh no. It happened, didn’t it?"

You buried your face in your hands. "I hate my life."

Chan cackled. "I knew it."

"You are not allowed to tell anyone."

"Are you kidding? I’m telling everyone."

You shot him a glare. "Chan—" "Kidding. Relax. Your secret’s safe."

You exhaled. "Good."

Chan smirked. "But, uh… you might want to tell Vernon soon."

You blinked. "Why?" Chan pointed behind you.

And when you turned Vernon was standing there and he's looking right at you.

You froze. Vernon didn’t.

He stepped closer, hands in his pockets, head tilted slightly. "So."

Meanwhile Chan slowly walks backwards to escape the scene and leaving you to your devices.

You swallowed. "So?"

"You like me." he smirks. The man had the audacity to smirk and it sends something right through you. Either you want to run away from or run away with, you're not so sure.

You let out a sharp breath. "Don’t start."

Vernon hummed. "You do, though."

You ran a hand through your hair. "Vernon—"

"It’s okay," he said. "I already knew."

Your stomach flipped. "Excuse me?" you look at him wide eyed

Vernon shrugged. "I was just waiting for you to admit it."

You stared at him. "You’re insufferable."

He grinned. "And you like me anyway."

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. "This is the worst day of my life."

Vernon chuckled. "Is it?"

You hesitated because no it wasn’t.

It was actually… kind of nice.

Finally letting yourself feel it.

Finally stopping the fight.

Finally looking at him and knowing he had been waiting for you all along.

You sighed. "Fine." Vernon raised an eyebrow. "Fine?"

You crossed your arms. "Fine. I like you. Happy now?"

Vernon just smiled.

"Yeah."

And then he walks closer to you, only a step away. Close enough you can smell his shower gel and fabric softener but far enough to give you space if you needed it.

Then he laced his fingers through yours. He did it like it was normal. Like he had been waiting to do it this whole time.

You stared down at your hand in his. Warm. Steady. Unwavering.

And suddenly you felt stupid.

Because what now? what, he got what he wanted? You admitted it. You said it. He won. Was he going to smirk, say told you so, and just… walk away?

You pulled your hand back, crossing your arms. "What now?"

Vernon blinked. "What do you mean?"

You scowled. "What now? You’re happy? You win?"

Vernon tilted his head, confused. "Win what?"

You huffed. "The bet. The whole stupid game you’ve been playing. Congratulations. You made me fall for you. Now you can go back to your cool, mysterious, hockey star life and leave me alone."

Vernon frowned. "What?"

You threw your hands up. "I mean, that’s how this goes, right? You chase me, I resist, I finally give in, and then boom—you’re over it."

You scoffed. "See? Silence. I knew it. I knew—"

"I’m not leaving."

You froze.

Vernon’s gaze was steady, unreadable, but there was something serious in his tone.

You swallowed. "What?"

"I’m not leaving, I'm not going anywhere. Where do you think I'm going?" he asks, confused

You hesitated. "Why not?"

Vernon exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Because I like you. Like, actually like you. This wasn’t just some game for me."

"It wasn’t?" you mumble

"No."

You shifted on your feet. "Are you sure?"

Vernon laughed a quiet, breathy sound, like he couldn’t believe you were actually asking. Then he reached out—gently, carefully—and hooked his pinky around yours. And somehow, that tiny, stupid action made your chest feel like it was about to explode.

Vernon looked at you. "I’m sure."

And just like that—

You didn’t know how to fight him anymore.

After that night, Vernon didn’t change.

He didn’t start being overly sweet. He didn’t suddenly turn into a rom-com boyfriend who sent you flowers and love notes.

No.

He was just him.

Still showing up.

Still waiting outside your internship, still tossing his jacket over your shoulders, still holding your hand in that quiet, casual way that made you wonder how you had gone this long without it.

And maybe…

Just maybe…

You were finally starting to trust it. To trust him because he wasn’t going anywhere and for once you didn’t want him to. The moment you realized you weren’t fighting this anymore—weren’t fighting him—a strange kind of calm settled over you.

Vernon was still holding your hand. Still standing close. Still watching you with that infuriatingly patient expression like he had all the time in the world to wait for you to catch up.

It should have been a big moment. A grand, cinematic, fireworks-in-the-background kind of thing.

But instead—

"OH MY GOD."

You and Vernon both jumped, heads snapping up just in time to see Chan standing there, eyes wide, mouth open.

Your idiot cousin pointed an accusing finger at your intertwined hands.

"WHAT IS THAT?"

You blinked. "What is what?"

"THAT!" Chan gestured wildly. "You! Him! HANDS!"

Vernon blinked at him, unfazed. "Yeah, we have hands."

"OH MY GOD."

You groaned, trying to yank your hand away out of pure instinct only for Vernon to tighten his grip. Subtle. Calm. Like he was telling you, No. Don’t let go just because he’s here.

You hesitated. Then…

You didn’t let go.

Chan screamed.

"I need a moment," Chan announced, dramatically collapsing onto a bench like he had just received life-altering news.

You rolled your eyes. "Chan, it’s not that serious."

"NOT THAT SERIOUS?" Chan clutched his chest. "You—you and Vernon—I mean—when—HOW?"

Vernon just stuffed his free hand in his pocket, watching Chan with his usual unreadable expression. "You good?"

"No," Chan wheezed.

You sighed. "You’re being dramatic."

Chan sat up abruptly, eyes narrowing. "Oh? I’m being dramatic? Says the girl who SWORE she would NEVER date another hockey player?"

Your face burned. "I—okay, yeah, I might’ve said that, but—"

"SO WHAT IS THIS THEN?" Chan gestured wildly at you and Vernon.

You opened your mouth—then closed it because what was this?

Vernon didn’t let you think for long. "We’re dating," he said simply.

You choked. "Vernon!"

Chan’s jaw dropped. "YOU ARE?!"

Vernon turned to you, unfazed. "We’re not?"

You floundered. "I mean—I—are we?"

Vernon shrugged. "You like me. I like you. We hold hands now. Feels like dating."

Your brain short-circuited.

Because… that was it? That easy?

Chan looked between the two of you, unimpressed. "This is the weirdest way I’ve ever seen two people start dating."

You groaned. "I hate both of you."

Vernon smirked. "You like me, though."

You scowled. "Don’t push it."

Chan stood up, rubbing his temples. "I need time to process this."

You crossed your arms. "It’s not that deep."

Chan snorted. "Not that deep? Please. The entire team is gonna freak when they find out."

Your stomach dropped.

"The team?"

"Oh yeah," Chan smirked. "Good luck keeping this quiet."

Vernon didn’t seem fazed at all. But you?

You were doomed.

Chan had seen a lot of things in his life.

He had seen Vernon score impossible goals in the last seconds of a game. He had seen you single-handedly shut down an entire group of guys trying to hit on you at a party. He had seen Seungkwan lose his mind when they ran out of his favorite snacks at the dorms.

But this?

This was a new level of shocking.

He had come over to your place after practice, expecting a normal night of hanging out. Maybe some bickering, maybe some teasing—nothing out of the ordinary.

What he did not expect was to walk into the kitchen and see Vernon standing behind you, arms loosely wrapped around your waist, casually resting his chin on your shoulder while you scrolled through your phone.

And even more shocking?

You were letting him.

You. The queen of personal space. The same person who once smacked Chan for putting his feet on your couch.

But now?

You were just standing there, completely unbothered, letting Vernon be all up in your space like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Chan froze. "WHAT AM I LOOKING AT?"

You barely glanced up. "Hey, Chan."

"No." He pointed an accusatory finger at you. "What is this?"

Vernon blinked lazily. "A kitchen."

"VERNON."

"What?" Vernon was so calm it was infuriating.

Chan sputtered. "You’re—you’re literally all over her, and she’s letting you?"

Vernon hummed. "Yeah."

"YEAH?"

You sighed, turning your head slightly to look at Chan. "Why are you acting like this is a crime?"

"Because YOU used to YELL at me for even TOUCHING YOUR SHOULDER!"

You shrugged. "You’re not Vernon."

"EXACTLY!"

Chan ran a hand down his face, groaning dramatically. "Oh my god. Oh my god, I need a second."

Vernon just looked at him, completely unfazed.

"You’re acting like I’m holding her hostage," Vernon said, resting his chin back on your shoulder.

"Okay," he breathed, pressing a hand to his chest. "I need—I need to sit down."

You rolled your eyes. "Drama queen."

"No, YOU DON’T GET IT," Chan huffed. "I spent YEARS watching you destroy men for breathing near you, and NOW YOU’RE JUST LETTING VERNON CUDDLE YOU IN THE KITCHEN?"

Vernon smirked. "Would you rather I kiss your cousin in the kitchen?"

Chan stared at him, deadpan. "I will throw you in a snowbank."

Vernon just shrugged, unbothered, and looped his arm around your waist again. And when you didn’t move away—didn’t fight it, didn’t act like it was a big deal—Chan lost his mind.

"I CAN’T BE HERE."

And with that, your cousin stormed out of the kitchen.

You laughed, shaking your head. "He’ll be fine."

Vernon just smirked, squeezing your waist slightly before pulling away.

"Yeah," he said. "But this is fun."

And honestly?

He wasn’t wrong.

The first time Vernon kissed you, it wasn’t in some dramatic, romantic moment. It wasn’t after a big fight or some emotional confession.

It was a regular night. The two of you had just finished getting dinner, and he had walked you to your door like he always did.

No pressure. No expectations. Just… Vernon being Vernon.

And as you turned to say goodnight, he just looked at you for a second—head tilted, hands in his pockets, gaze steady as ever.

Then, so casually it almost felt like an afterthought, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours.

No rush. No hesitation. Just… easy.

And instead of pulling away, instead of overthinking it you kissed him back.

Because, for once in your life you weren’t scared. You weren’t running. You weren’t waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You were exactly where you were supposed to be.

And Vernon?

He had been waiting for you to figure that out all along.

The apartment was quiet.

Dim lighting from the bedside lamp cast a soft glow across the room, the kind that made everything feel warm and safe. Outside, the city buzzed with life, but inside, within the walls of your shared space, it was just you and Vernon.

And Vernon was clingy.

Not in an obvious, dramatic way. Not in the way some people whined for attention or made a big show of it.

No—Vernon’s clinginess was quiet, subtle, and completely inescapable.

Like now.

You had barely shifted an inch when his arm—already wrapped snugly around your waist—tightened.

"Where are you going?" His voice was low, raspy from sleep.

You sighed. "I wasn’t going anywhere."

"Good."

His hold on you relaxed slightly, but he didn’t let go. He never did. Vernon wasn’t the type to smother you with affection in public, but in private?

He was relentless.

He had to feel you. Had to know you were there. Had to keep you close, even in sleep which explained why your legs were tangled together, his arm was curled around your stomach, and his forehead was resting against the back of your neck.

The warmth of his breath tickled your skin.

You shivered and, of course, Vernon noticed. He let out a quiet hum, nuzzling even closer.

"Are you cold?"

"A little."

Without a word, he pulled the blanket higher, tucked it around you both, and pressed himself closer.

"Better?"

You smiled. "Yeah."

Vernon sighed, his lips barely grazing your shoulder. Silence settled between you. The comfortable kind. The kind where you didn’t need to say anything because just being there was enough.

But then you felt it. The way his fingers started tracing slow, absentminded patterns against your skin. Soft. Thoughtless. Completely natural.

It was so Vernon.

Always the same quiet gestures. Always the same small ways of showing affection. You reached down, lacing your fingers through his.

Vernon stilled for a second, then—without a word—he intertwined them properly, squeezing once before relaxing again.

And for a while, that was it.

Just the sound of your breathing. Just the warmth of him against you. Just the steady, slow rhythm of two people who fit together perfectly.

But then Vernon spoke.

"…You’re my favorite."

Your heart skipped a beat.

You turned slightly, catching the sleepy, almost shy expression on his face.

You raised an eyebrow. "Favorite what?"

"Just…" His voice was a little hoarse, a little soft, like he wasn’t sure he wanted to say it out loud. "My favorite everything."

Your breath caught.

Vernon never said things like this. Not because he didn’t feel them, but because he didn’t need to.

He showed it instead.

Through the way he waited for you after your internship, even if it meant sitting outside for an hour. Through the way he always pulled you closer in his sleep, like he was scared you’d disappear. Through the way he remembered the smallest things, like how you hated sleeping with socks on or how you always curled up a certain way when you were tired.

He didn’t have to say it.

But he did anyway.

Because you needed to hear it.

You swallowed, heart too full, too warm, too much.

"You’re such a sap," you muttered, trying to sound annoyed, but your voice cracked just a little.

Vernon smirked, eyes half-lidded with sleep.

"You like it."

You huffed. "Maybe."

He chuckled. Then, before you could say anything else, he tilted his head forward, pressed a lazy kiss against your jaw, and mumbled—

"Go to sleep."

And just like that—

You did.

[arxiwon]

If you | lhs

— Inspired by BIGBANG’s "If You" | Angst | Breakup | Regret | Heavy Emotions Word Count: ~1.8k

Sypnosis: Heeseung never thought he’d lose you—until he did. What started as unspoken words and silent nights turned into an irreversible distance, one he never tried to close until it was too late. He let his pride win, let his fear hold him back, and in the end, he let you walk away without a fight. But regret is a cruel thing, and as the days stretch into months, he realizes the weight of everything left unsaid. Then, one night, he sees you again—laughing, glowing, moving on with someone who isn’t him. It’s in that moment he understands the true meaning of loss. Not the kind that happens instantly, but the kind that happens slowly, painfully, with every second you spend happier without him. Now, alone in the remnants of what once was, Heeseung is left with nothing but his mistakes and the aching truth: you were never coming back. And no matter how much he whispers it into the silence, "I'm sorry" will never be enough.

The apartment still smelled like you. It was a cruel thing—how your scent still clung to the sheets, to his clothes, to every space you had once occupied. Three months had passed, yet nothing had changed. Not the untouched mug on the kitchen counter. Not the half-empty bottle of perfume you left behind. Not the ghost of you in every quiet corner of his life.

And yet, you weren’t here anymore. And you never would be again.

Heeseung sat at the edge of the bed, staring at his trembling hands. He had spent the last ninety days replaying the night you left over and over in his head. Every word he said. Every word he didn’t. Every mistake he made. The way your voice had cracked when you told him you were tired. The way your eyes had dimmed when he pretended he didn’t care. The way you had waited—waited for him to stop you, to say anything—only for him to stay silent.

He had let you walk away.

And now, he was paying the price.

"We need to talk." You had said those words so softly, so carefully, as if bracing for impact.

Heeseung had known what was coming. He had seen it in your exhausted eyes, in the way you kept wringing your hands like you were trying to hold yourself together. And yet, instead of reaching for you, instead of fixing what was breaking, he had leaned back against the couch with a sigh, as if he was bored of this conversation before it even started.

"Here we go again," he had muttered.

And just like that, he had lost you.

You had stiffened, the last shred of hope in your expression shattering right in front of him.

"I can’t do this anymore, Heeseung."

A part of him had panicked, screaming at him to move, to do something, anything, but his pride had won. His fear had won.

So he scoffed. Crossed his arms. Forced himself to look unaffected when, in reality, his heart was begging you to stay.

"Sure. Walk away. That’s what you’re good at, right?"

Your breath hitched.

For a split second, he saw it—the hurt, the hesitation. The way you were silently pleading for him to take it back. To say something real for once.

But he didn’t.

And that was it.

You nodded. Swallowed hard. Picked up your coat with hands that were trembling slightly. You didn’t yell. Didn’t cry. Didn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much he had broken you.

"Goodbye, Heeseung."

It was quiet. Simple. Devastating.

And then, you were gone.

Just like that.

He had told himself you’d come back. That you were just mad, that you needed time, that eventually, you’d miss him too.

But the weeks passed.

Then the months.

And you never called.

Never texted.

Never even looked back.

And Heeseung? He had never been good at chasing.

So he let the days drag on, let the silence stretch between you like a canyon that was growing too wide to cross. Even when he missed you so badly it made him sick. Even when he found himself staring at his phone, fingers hovering over your contact, typing out messages he’d never send.

"Are you okay?"

"Do you still think of me?"

"I’m sorry. Please come back."

But in the end, he never pressed send.

Because the truth was, he didn’t deserve to.

And then came the night that crushed him completely.

He hadn’t meant to see you. He hadn’t meant to witness the moment that would finally destroy him.

But there you were—in the café that used to be yours and his, sitting across from someone else.

Heeseung had frozen in place. His breath had caught in his throat. His heart had felt like it had been ripped straight from his chest.

Because you were smiling.

A real smile.

The kind he hadn’t seen in so long. The kind he had forgotten you were even capable of. The kind that wasn’t for him anymore.

And that was the moment he knew.

You had moved on.

You had let him go.

And he—he had been a fool to think you’d wait.

That night, for the first time in his life, Park Heeseung allowed himself to cry.

Not the quiet, restrained kind.

But the kind that left him breathless.

The kind that clawed at his throat, shaking his entire body.

The kind that made him realize—this was it.

This was what regret felt like.

And it was unbearable.

The days that followed were nothing but an endless loop of what-ifs.

What if he had just held you tighter?

What if he had just swallowed his pride and begged you to stay?

What if he had just told you how much he loved you before it was too late?

But "what if" didn’t change the past.

And it wouldn’t bring you back.

So all he could do now was exist in the emptiness you left behind.

He didn’t reach out. He didn’t show up at your door. He didn’t beg for another chance.

Because it wasn’t his choice anymore.

It was yours.

And you had already made it.

So he let the rain hit the windowpane, let the city blur around him, let his regrets drown him completely.

And in the solitude of his empty apartment, he whispered the only words that mattered—the only ones he never had the courage to say when you were still there to hear them.

"I’m sorry."

"I still love you."

"And I wish you were here."

But wishes didn’t change reality.

And Heeseung?

He had lost his chance.

Forever.

[proneterror204]

Raiju in Themiskyra

It never storms in Themiskyra. Well never naturally. It does rain, but never storms. Thunderstorms are a sign of zeus's wrath and are not taken lightly in the land of the Amazons. But out to sea on the horizon a storm was coming to the island.

On the coast, away off the beach, sat a hunter's cabin. Out of the cabin came a dark-skinned woman, outside of her original timeline, in a red chiton with light bronze armor.

Off the coast, just away from the beach landed a great white wolf. It was standing on the water with cloud-like mist floating around its shoulders like a tenne scarf. Lightning was crackling through its white fur causing it to flow and giving the fur a flame like appearance.

The woman and the wolf stared at each other awhile before the woman spoke. "What a beautiful storm. Are you causing trouble with it?

"Hmph hardly, someone has to keep that old Thunder-bringer on Olympus distracted and it keeps both of us from going down and causing problems on earth."

" I suppose Hera pays you alittle to keep her husband from chasing other women?

"Perhaps." says the wolf with a grin.

"Its good to see you again, Dan." the woman says

"Its good to see you to, Val." Dan says, turning from a wolf to a man.

"you know a storm cant stay here long." Valerie says

"Perhaps a night or two, with you?"

"Perhaps." she says blushing.

[daylighted]

Hii! I really love your stanford!dean drabbles, soooo may I request a stanford dean fic with a shy!reader?? (kinda like nerd x jock dynamic) in which dean is trying to pursue reader but reader isn't sure if he really means it bc of his personality (mostly bc he is really flirty) and all with a bit of angst but also a lot fluff ofc (sorry if it's a bit cliche I'm a whore for this trope😭😭😭)

Btw hbd!!!!💝💝💝

thank u for the happy bday omfg 😭 it's still two months away unfortunately. LMAOFIDKDJ BUT I AM PUTTING THIS IN MY BACK POCKET TO REMEMBER THAT DAY !!!

anyways ahem let me lock in.

it's not that dean didn't have game, it seemed to be that dean had too much game. you didn't like when he leaned against the doorframe you were in, posing in that way that girls liked; ankles crossed, arms crossed, head tilted down to look at you. you didn't like the arm stretch pose over the top of the doorframe either. if he wasn't so attuned to how your face lit up in a blush when he was around, he would have been convinced that you just hated doors or something.

but no, you could talk to your friends just fine, it was just─ him. which is a hard pill to swallow in of itself, but some truths just couldn't be changed.

he'd make effort too, you know. really, desperately, lay it on thick to play the nice guy, the boy next door you seemed to want. it was hard, since that was the role he'd worked so damn hard to break out of, but he'd do it. there was something about the chase that had him coming back to you, even though the game wasn't nearly as fun for you.

dean didn't think, really, was the main point. didn't think about how intense this must have been for you, didn't think about the possibility of you just ─ not liking him back? didn't think at all.

he's outside your dorm to walk you to class. a habit for him, and an irritation for you. you never could get yourself to argue with him about it, though, the words always lodged in your throat. how did you, politely, tell a football guy to get fucked? he'd take it some other way. you knew football guys, and specifically, knew this one.

dean snatches your backpack from your arms before you can shrug it on, carrying it in front of him like a little purse. maybe, you kept him around for that, too. schoolbooks were heavy, okay?

but it's the little twitch in his mouth that seems to break you. "can you just... find someone else already?" you've come to know that smile as his only preliminary warning before he says something that burns your cheeks red and almost makes you believe that this pursuit is genuine, and not just to get in your pants.

dangerous smile. those dimples could just about make anyone's panties drop ─ you'd know, you were a self proclaimed part of that statistic.

dean actually looks taken aback, slowing his steps, and you'd almost feel relieved if you didn't feel so sick that you'd hurt his feelings. and, he had your backpack, so now it was awkward. now you'd have to snatch it back before you could scramble away.

"find someone else?"

in his head, he was breaking down your walls. slowly, but surely. and here was this painstaking reminder that every wall he broke was just replaced by another.

you stare at him for a long few seconds, the halls of your building thankfully empty, except for the two of you and every question hanging in the balance.

"i don't want someone else, sweet girl," he says, his face contorted in a wince like he actually was hurt by the suggestion at all. you recoil, too, but you don't back down. quiet as hell but a viper when you had to be. backed into this conversational corner, you had to be. "hell, you think i've been chasin' you around this whole damn campus because i'm waitin' to get bored of it and start somewhere else?"

he acts like it's an unreasonable suggestion. boys like him didn't go for the girls in the bleachers. boys like him liked short skirts and pom poms. at least, that's what the movies taught you. what was he going to do next, take off your glasses and tell you that you really were beautiful, who would have guessed?

when you don't answer, dean seems to shrink back a little. he shrugs his shoulders to adjust his backpack on his back, and yours that, at some point in these ticking minutes, he had slipped on his front. "believe me, honey, this is torturous for me, too."

"torturous?" you shake your head, internally wincing at how, of all of what he said, that was the thing you latched onto. "so go find─"

"someone else. i heard you the first time." dean shakes his head, clicking his tongue after another strenuous break of silence. "it's torturous," he says slower now, like you're the one who needs to be talked in gentle words to, not him, who's seen more concussions than he's seen his family, "because you are a breath away, and yet you are so damned determined to keep that breath between us. because you seem so weary, and strung up, like at any moment, i'm gonna pull the rug away and tell you that this was some joke, and you're gonna fall on your ass and feel awful."

well. it's not like he was wrong. but now the embarrassment is worn so prominently in the pink of your face, and those awful feelings he brought up are right there, if only because you'd been so convinced that he was a terrible guy without having any sort of evidence to back it up.

dean takes a step forward, not like approaching a wounded animal but rather like he's approaching a feral beast determined to snap at his fingers. "all i want," he breathes, shaking his head, palms up in some miniscule effort of surrender, "is to buy you a coffee."

"coffee," you echo back to him. you can't help it. you glance at his double backpack situation and you have to press your mouth together to keep from laughing. maybe dean wasn't lying about this, or everything else. would someone really willingly make themselves look so silly just to keep up a ruse?

dean nods. "coffee," he says, and he notices, of course he notices, that dazzling smile of yours. he's a strong man, but he can be made into something so weak with nothing but a pair of lips and glimmering eyes. "coffee yes?"

"you have class in ten minutes."

a shrug. two backpacks lift and fall. "conveniently, i've forgotten for the next forty five minutes about that class. whoops."

you have to look away. his eyes are so earnest and he is so surprisingly silly when he's not spouting cheesy pickup lines and doing stupid poses in doorframes that you almost cannot handle to face the full onslaught of his expression. again, he asks, "coffee yes?"

you huff out a laugh. what did you have to lose, really? you'd been planning to drown in classwork for a while at the library. coffee would definitely be needed to survive that.

with an exaggerated sigh, you manage to stutter out a, "coffee yes," if only so you could see that smile on his mouth again. you were weak, too, in that regard.

and so you got coffee with the football boy, and again the next day, and suddenly it wasn't such a scary thought to hold the football boy's hand.

[ivyues]

Chasing Yesterday | 1 | - Bang Chan

Bang Chan x lost connection trainee friend

Years after splitting paths, Bang Chan didn't expect a simple text to bring an old friend – and old feelings – back into his life.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

The training rooms smelled of sweat, determination, and dreams that didn’t come easy. Chris always lingered a little longer than the others, his eyes fixed on the mirrors, wondering if his reflection would ever transform into someone worthy of debut. For years, it was the same – watching friends reach their dreams while he stayed behind, burdened by doubt.

There was also you. You weren’t just another trainee to Chris. Sure, you were a hard worker, someone who matched his relentless pace, but you were also his anchor. Late-night conversations about dreams, shared snacks in the practice room, and bursts of laughter after a particularly tough day made the grueling years bearable. He never told you about the way his heart would race when you smiled at him or how your encouragement after his failures felt like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. He kept that silly little teenage crush away, afraid to ruin what you two had.

But around the time Han joined the company, you decided to leave. The dream of becoming a K-pop idol didn’t burn as brightly for you anymore, and while Chris understood, he hated losing yet another close ally. One day, you were practicing next to him and the next day, you were just… gone.

The years passed. Stray Kids debuted, and Chris threw himself into his work, becoming the leader his members needed him to be. Life moved on, but every now and then, in quiet moments, he’d wonder what you were doing. 

It wasn’t until one day, years later, when he was catching up with Sana that your name came up.

“You remember Y/N?” Sana asked casually over coffee, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Of course, I remember her,” Chris said with a small smile. “It’s been years, though. I haven’t talked to her since…” His voice trailed off, the memory bittersweet. “I wonder how she’s doing.”

Sana grinned. “Funny you should say that. I got her number recently. Want it?”

Chris blinked, startled. “Her number?”

“Yep,” Sana said, sliding her phone toward him. “Go on. Text her. She’d probably love to hear from you.”

That night, Chris sat on his bed, your number staring back at him from his phone screen. He hesitated, typing and deleting messages, his nerves getting the better of him. Days passed before he finally worked up the courage to text you.

“Hey, this is Chris. Sana gave me your number. It’s been a while. How have you been?”

Chan hit send and immediately regretted it. What if you didn’t reply? What if you didn’t want to talk to him at all? He set his phone down, trying to distract himself, but every buzz made his stomach flip.

A few hours later, his phone lit up.

“Chris as in Christopher Bang Chan?”

He smiled, relief washing over him as he quickly typed back. “Yeah, it’s me. This is Y/N, right?”

Your reply came almost instantly: “Yeah. It’s been ages! I can’t believe you’re texting me!”

Chris hesitated for a moment, his thumbs hovering over the keyboard, before replying, “I’ve missed you. I hope you’re doing well.”

There was a brief pause before your next message arrived: “I am, thanks. You too. I’m proud of you. I’ve watched your MVs – You’ve come so far.”

The thought of you keeping up with his career sent a rush of warmth through him. He stared at your message for a moment, rereading it before typing back. “I wouldn’t be here without you. You know that, right?”

Your reply came with a teasing tone that made him laugh out loud. “Once you’re famous and living the idol life, you forget to text old friends, huh? 😜”

“Hey, I’m here now!” he shot back.

And just like that, the ice was broken. Over the next few days, your texts became constant – snippets of your lives, fond memories of the trainee days, and playful banter. It felt like no time had passed, and yet, in some ways, everything had changed.

One day, Han caught Chris grinning at his phone in the corner of the dorm. It was rare to see their leader so visibly relaxed, much less smiling to himself. Intrigued, Han leaned in, nearly giving Chris a heart attack.

“Hyung, who’s got you giggling like that? Is it someone I know?”

Chris scrambled to lock his phone. “It’s nothing, it’s just...an old friend. Do you remember Y/N from when we were trainees?”

Hearing him say your name, Han’s curiosity only grew. “Not really, but you were pretty close right? Hyung, why are you just texting? You should meet her. It’s been years, right? I bet she’d love to catch up.”

Chris hesitated. Meeting you in person? That thought felt heavier than he expected. He wasn’t sure why.

“Hyung.” Han’s tone softened, sensing his hesitation. “You’ve told me stories about her. She meant a lot to you back then, right? What’s stopping you?”

It was a question Chris couldn’t easily answer, but it nudged him to act. A few days later, after much internal debate, he texted you.

“How about coffee this weekend? There’s this café I like. We could catch up properly.”

Your response was quick and enthusiastic: “I’d love that! Let me know the place and time.”

-----

The café was warm and inviting, its earthy tones and gentle lighting creating a cozy ambiance. Chris arrived first, nervously fiddling with his phone as he waited. He hadn’t seen you in years, and the thought of reconnecting stirred a mix of excitement and anxiety. Would he recognize you? Would it feel the same as it did back then?

When the bell above the door chimed, Chan looked up, and there you were. You hadn’t changed much, and yet, you looked so different. The teenage girl he remembered had matured into someone who carried themselves with quiet confidence. Your smile was the same, though, lighting up your face as you spotted him.

“Chris,” you greeted, and the sound of his name in your voice felt like a time machine.

He stood, unsure whether to hug you or shake your hand, but you made the decision for him, pulling him into a warm embrace. “It’s been forever,” you said, pulling back to look at him. “You haven’t changed.”

Chris chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “You have – in a good way. You look… happy.”

The two of you ordered drinks and found a quiet corner. The conversation started easy – catching up on the basics, sharing stories from your lives since those trainee days. But as the initial excitement settled, the mood grew more reflective.

“Do you regret it?” Chris asked suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice was soft, but his gaze was intense, searching your expression for any flicker of doubt. “Leaving the company, I mean. Giving up on… that dream.”

You took a sip of your coffee, considering his question. “No,” you said finally, your voice steady. “I don’t regret it, Chris. After I quit I realized that I was chasing something that wasn’t really mine to chase. I think I was trying to prove something to myself, or maybe to others.”

You paused, hesitating before continuing. “I realized after I left that the dream I really wanted… it was never an option for me. Producing music, having creative control—it was never going to happen as a girl in a girl group, not in that company, not at that time. They had a mold, and I didn’t fit into it. Once I understood that, it was like a weight lifted off my shoulders. I stopped trying to be someone I wasn’t.”

Chris’ eyes softened, a flicker of something unspoken passing through them. “That… must’ve been tough to come to terms with.”

“It was,” you admitted. “I was angry for a while, at myself, at the system. But after I left, I started to see that it wasn’t the end. There’s more than one way to make a dream come true, and the path I’m on now—it feels right for me. I’m happy where I am.”

Chris nodded, processing your words. “You always seemed so sure of yourself back then. I guess I just… I admired that.”

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “I wasn’t as sure as you think. But thank you. That means a lot, coming from you.”

There was a moment of quiet, the café’s gentle hum filling the space between you. Then Chris tilted his head slightly, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Do you still do music? Like creating or singing?”

You smiled, the question sparking something warm in you. “Yeah, I do. It’s just a hobby now, though. I write and sing at home when I feel like it. It’s… different from before, but it brings me a lot of joy.”

“That’s great,” Chris said sincerely. “I’m glad you haven’t let it go completely. Music was always such a big part of who you are.”

You nodded, your fingers tracing the rim of your coffee cup. “It still is. But right now, I haven’t really been doing much with it. I just moved back to Seoul recently, so I’m still settling in. Once things are a bit more stable, I’d love to dive back into it.”

“You moved back?” Chris asked, his eyes lighting up. “How long ago?”

“Just a couple of months,” you said. “I wanted a change, and Seoul felt like the right place to be.” Then, after a brief pause, you added, “You know, once everything’s in order, you should come by sometime. I’ve been meaning to show someone my music setup—well, when I finally unpack it all.”

Chris’ eyes widened slightly in surprise, then softened with a warm smile. “Yeah? I’d like that. It’d be nice to hear what you’ve been working on since.”

“It’s nothing fancy – no chart-topping masterpieces” you said quickly, brushing off the compliment with a wave of your hand. “But it’s always fun to share it with someone who gets it.”

“I’d love to,” he said, his sincerity unmistakable. “Just let me know when you’re ready. No rush.”

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting golden light through the café windows, the two of you lingered, caught in a space that felt timeless. There was something comforting about reconnecting, about seeing the ways you had both changed and grown, yet still finding the same thread of understanding that had tied you together all those years ago.

pt.2 | pt.3 | pt.4 | pt.5 | masterlist

[zuzu-tries-to-write]

Katsuki Bakugo X Reader

Summary: Bakugo has spent years bullying you, masking his true feelings behind insults and harsh words. But when he finds out you’re dating someone else, something inside him snaps. Fueled by jealousy and frustration, he finally confesses—his way. With heated words, desperate kisses, and a possessiveness he can’t control, he makes it clear: you were always his. And now, he’s never letting you go.

(This one bakugo is a bit possessive but please don’t mind that)

Bakugo had always been a problem in your life. Since the first year at U.A., he had made it his mission to push your buttons, belittle your victories, and scoff at your every move.

At first, you thought it was just his personality. He was an ass to everyone. But as time went on, you noticed things—how he only seemed to get truly pissed when you outshined him in training, how he always had a comment about your friends, how his teasing was relentless when it came to you.

You had no idea why he was like that, and frankly, you had stopped caring.

Which was why, when Daiki—one of the second-year students from another class—asked you out, you said yes. He was sweet, kind, and most importantly, nothing like Bakugo.

The moment Bakugo found out, everything changed.

You weren’t expecting the confrontation to happen so soon.

It had only been a few days since you started dating Daiki, and already, your phone was full of texts from Ashido and Kaminari.

Ashido: Girl, I just saw Bakugo nearly murder a training dummy. WTF did you do to him?

Kaminari: Bro’s been pacing like a damn tiger in the lounge. He’s gonna explode.

You ignored the texts. It wasn’t your problem. If Bakugo was being a moody asshole, what else was new?

But you weren’t expecting him to grab you right outside the training hall and shove you against the wall, his arms caging you in before you could react.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” His voice was low, dangerous.

You blinked up at him, shoving at his chest, but he didn’t budge. “Excuse me?”

He scowled. “Don’t play dumb. You and that extra.”

Your stomach twisted. “Daiki?” You narrowed your eyes. “That’s what this is about?”

He let out a harsh scoff. “Of course it’s about that. The hell are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking I finally found someone who isn’t an asshole to me,” you shot back, frustration bubbling up. “Not that it’s any of your damn business.”

His jaw clenched. “Like hell it isn’t.”

“Why do you even care, Bakugo?” You pushed harder against his chest, but he still didn’t move. His whole body was tense, his crimson eyes blazing. “You’ve spent years making my life miserable, so why the hell does it matter to you who I date?”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, his fists clenching at his sides. “Because it should be me, damn it!”

The words hit you like a shockwave.

Your lips parted, but nothing came out.

His breathing was ragged, his chest rising and falling like he was barely holding himself together. “You think I just fuck with you for fun?” His voice was lower now, rougher. “You think I spent all this time chasing after you just to piss you off?”

Your heart was pounding. “What—”

“I didn’t know how to fucking say it,” he snapped, his hands slamming against the wall on either side of you. “I didn’t know how to—fuck—I didn’t know how to deal with you!”

You stared at him, stunned.

“You make me insane, okay?” His voice was raw, like the words were being ripped straight from his chest. “Every time I see you, every time you smile at those idiots, every time some loser gets too close to you, I wanna—” He exhaled sharply, his forehead dropping against yours. “I wanna fucking destroy them.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“I don’t want anyone else touching you.” His voice was barely above a whisper now, but it was so much more intense. “I should be the one with you. Not him. Me.”

Silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating.

Then, before you could stop yourself, you grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him down into a kiss.

It was desperate, messy, needy. The second your lips met his, Bakugo let out a low, guttural sound, his hands flying to your waist as he slammed you back against the wall. His grip was firm, possessive, his fingers digging into your skin as his mouth devoured yours.

You barely had time to process before his tongue slid past your lips, claiming you completely. Your head spun as he kissed you harder, deeper, like he was trying to burn himself into you.

One of his hands slid up your side, gripping your jaw as he tilted your head back, giving himself more access. You moaned against his mouth, and he growled, pressing his body even closer to yours.

“Mine,” he muttered against your lips, biting down gently before soothing the sting with his tongue. “Say it.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him back in for another bruising kiss. “Yours,” you whispered breathlessly. “Only yours.”

His grip on you tightened, his breath hot against your skin. “Damn right,” he growled, before kissing you again, harder, deeper, like he never planned on letting go.

Bakugo’s breathing was ragged as he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his grip on your waist still firm like he was afraid you’d disappear. His crimson eyes bore into yours, intense and unyielding.

“You’re not going back to him,” he said, voice hoarse but certain. “I won’t fucking let you.”

Your chest was rising and falling just as fast as his, your lips still tingling from the heat of his kisses. And the worst part? You didn’t want to go back.

You swallowed, your fingers still curled into his shirt. “Then what happens now?”

Bakugo let out a sharp exhale, his hands sliding down to your hips, gripping them like an anchor. “You’re mine,” he repeated, like he needed to hear it again. “And I’m gonna make damn sure you never doubt it again.”

His lips found yours once more—slower this time, but just as deep, just as needy. His hands moved over your body, memorizing every inch, every curve, like he was staking his claim. You melted into him, fingers threading through his hair as he pressed you back against the wall, letting his kiss say everything his words couldn’t.

When he finally pulled away, his smirk was cocky, but his eyes were softer—warmer.

“You should’ve known, dumbass,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over your swollen lips. “You were always mine.”

And this time, you didn’t argue…

[angel-kyo]

Almost the one [II]

When a too prone to fall in love Satoru decides he is tired of always chasing the wrong person, his eyes finally turn to the one that should be his perfect match, and to your dismay, this is no other than one of your closest friends; and while the idea of assisting your friend in becoming the man of someone else's dreams held no appeal to you, with your past revisiting, maybe helping him might be the way of helping yourself.

Prev: I

=======================

He must be nuts. There is no way he means it.

That’s what you had thought at Satoru’s request to date him before letting out an incredulous laugh followed by a court ‘No’, and turning around in direction to the campus.

“Why not?” he had asked, catching up with your step.

“What do you mean why not? Because it’s crazy.”

He had not insisted after that, and you assumed that he had not really meant it and it would be best to just forget it.

So why were you not forgetting it?

You peeked at Satoru from the corner of your eye. You two were now listening to the lecture of Mr. Nishikawa, or rather him reading an extremely long set of slides on statistics. It was one of the two classes you and Satoru would be taking together that semester. But as your friend kept looking ahead, his mind probably not on the lectures either, you kept wondering...

He could not have meant it, right?

Back there, he had looked so serious about it that, for a second, you almost believed him. However, you knew better. You were not the type he would date. No, he liked a certain kind of girls. Exotic ones, cute ones, some with stunning features or just girls who has a certain air around them. He liked girls who… stood out in a crowd. Girls like…

“Utahime!” a girl behind you called. “We saved you a seat.”

Utahime was one of your closest friends, and you were aware that her cool personality, and not to mention, graceful features, made her rather popular among your peers. So much that she seemed to have picked the interest of the Gojo Satoru himself.

The way he glanced to the back when she arrived did not go unnoticed by you.

He was at that phase of the Gojo cycle where he could not take his eyes off the one he liked.

The “Gojo Cycle” was something Shoko had come up after a night of too many drinks while you and your friends were discussing Satoru’s love life, and it could be summarized in five stages. The first stage was “The Cupid stage”, in which Gojo sets his eyes on someone for the first time and, as if targeted by Cupid himself, he thinks fate has brought them together. That was usually followed by the staring phase, where he currently was at with Utahime, always searching for her and effectively finding her in his surroundings, reinforcing his belief that the Universe wanted them together.

The third stage was dating. Most times, Satoru would be successful in asking someone out and even in taking them on a few dates for two or three week, but then, for some reason, they would inevitably enter the ’This isn't working stage’ and Satoru’s object of affection would start avoiding him, not answering his calls and texts, or plainly stating that they were not interested anymore. It did not matter how much he chased.

And that is when it came, the phase you feared the most: the heartbreak.

The last stage of the Gojo cycle you feared if not for it’s duration but for it’s unpredictability. Albeit short in terms of time, the process for mending Satoru’s heart could be… challenging. Sometimes he needed an emotional marathon of movies, some others, indulging in sweets to the point of almost making himself sick; other times, he just needed to hit the gym as if his life depended on it.

Party nights, running marathons, trying new hobbies, long calls at 3am….The list could go on and on. Sometimes, he would do all. And what all of Satoru’s coping mechanisms had in common was that he would drag you along with him.

Surprisingly, the breakup, if it could be considered as such, with Hana had not hit him too hard. While Satoru had worried you for a second making you think he was looking too deep into the reason why she had left him, his focus had then shifted to Utahime, which wasn’t ideal but just the fact of him moving on was a relief nonetheless.

===

“Are you sticking to basketball this semester?” you asked Gojo while you walked together out of campus.

He nodded with a big smile on his face. “Of course I am. The team is counting on me after all.” He winked and you would have rolled your eyes at his egocentric notions and tried to kick some sense into him so he would focus more on his studies, but the vision in front of you prevented any words from coming out.

Satoru, who had been expecting a snarky reply, looked down at you when none came from your mouth, only to find out you were not by his side but a few steps back, fixed on a couple of guys looking at one of the campus maps.

He knew one of them, Suguru, his friend and fellow teammate in basketball. However, he had never seen the guy next to him. Seeing that Suguru appeared to be giving directions and pointing at the map, Satoru assumed it was a freshman or a visitor who had asked for help, but that did not explain why you had gone pale out of nowhere.

“[name]? Are you okay?” Satoru asked returning to your side.

It took a couple seconds for you to nod and force yourself to look somewhere else.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Peripherally, you saw Geto wave and probably say his goodbyes to the other guy, and you couldn’t help but turn and try to get another look, hoping that you were mistaken, that it wasn’t him but someone with an uncanny resemblance.

You and Satoru were at least thirty feet away from them, but his eyes still met yours and you could have sworn you saw a brief flash of recognition on his face. You averted your gaze a soon as you could.

No, it was definitely him.

=======================

Note: To everyone's surprise, myself included, I'm alive.

[vandme12]

I'm so sorry you got a NSFW asked in your inbox from someone, So I'm here to give ya a completely Different prompt-to make up for the random NSFW prompt.

Prompt: Ronin popping in at random into visit his darling, expecting to take them out on a bloody date he's got in mind, only to find them watching a marathon of Puppybowls as serious as can be- as in cheering for their favorite puppy when they score, laughing at the puns, wearing either something blue or orange. That sort of thing. I would love to see what his reaction to this whole thing would be and if he joins in lol.

Thank you so much!

Bloody Plans and Puppy

Ronin had a plan.

A perfect, beautiful, bloody plan.

He had it all mapped out—sweep you off your feet, drag you into the night, and paint the town red. Maybe he’d take you to a nice rooftop where you could watch some poor bastard’s final moments together, or maybe he’d let you pick the target this time. Romantic, right?

Except—when he strolled into your apartment, all smug confidence and sharp edges—

You didn’t even notice.

No, you were too busy cheering.

For puppies.

Ronin stopped dead in his tracks, blinking at the scene before him like it was some bizarre hallucination. You, curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, eyes glued to the TV like it was the most intense thriller of the decade. Except instead of murder or mayhem—

It was a goddamn Puppy Bowl.

On screen, tiny, clumsy puppies in blue and orange bandanas were tumbling over each other, chasing around a mini football. The announcers were going wild, spewing dog-related puns at a machine-gun pace, and you—

You were into it.

Like, genuinely, seriously into it.

Ronin watched as you fist-pumped the air when a golden retriever pup barrelled into the end zone.

"YEAH! GO TEAM FLUFF!"

He blinked again. Slowly.

What. The. Hell.

"Babe." His voice was smooth, easy, as he strolled further inside, finally making his presence known.

You didn't even look away.

"Hey, Ronin," you said, voice distracted as your eyes flicked across the screen, laser-focused.

He raised a brow, waiting for you to acknowledge him properly, but instead, you just grabbed a handful of popcorn and shoved it in your mouth, nodding at the TV like some grizzled sports veteran analyzing the game.

"God, that Pomeranian's got no game sense," you muttered.

Ronin's lips twitched. Was this real?

"You're kidding me, right?" He flopped onto the couch next to you, propping his feet up, smirking. "You're skipping out on my very romantic murder plans for… this?"

You threw him a brief glance. "It's the Puppy Bowl."

"Right, and I'm the Pope. Babe, what the hell is a Puppy Bowl?"

You gasped like he just stabbed you in the heart.

"Oh my god, you don’t know??"

Ronin’s smirk widened. "Would I be askin’ if I did?"

You turned to him fully now, eyes wide with shock, hands gripping his jacket like you were about to tell him the meaning of life itself.

"It’s only the greatest event of the year."

He snorted. "Yeah? Thought that was our anniversary."

You rolled your eyes but didn’t let go of his jacket. "It’s a big, adorable football game where puppies ‘compete’ for the Lombarky Trophy."

Lombarky.

Oh, Jesus Christ.

Ronin blinked at you, expression unreadable. Then, after a long pause—

"You are… way too invested in this."

"And you are way too NOT invested!" You pointed aggressively at the screen. "Look at them. Look at their little tails! Their tiny, stubby legs! Their over-the-top replays!"

Just as you said it, the slow-mo cam caught a Labrador puppy tripping over its own paws and face-planting straight into the goal line. The dramatic replay made it look ten times funnier than it should have.

Ronin stared.

Then—he actually snorted.

You gasped. "See? SEE? You’re enjoying it!"

"That was one laugh." He smirked, but the way his eyes flicked back to the screen? Yeah, he was already hooked and didn’t even know it yet.

You grinned and grabbed his arm, pulling him in closer. "C’mon. Stay and watch with me."

"Babe, we had a date planned."

"Puppies first. Murder later."

His grin widened. "You’re lucky I love ya."

"Damn right."

Five minutes later, he was into it.

Like, way too into it.

"GO, YOU LITTLE FURRY BASTARD! GO!" Ronin shouted at the TV, gripping the armrest with white-knuckled intensity.

You cackled beside him as he leaned forward, eyes dead serious, watching a tiny dachshund sprint toward the end zone with all the power of an Olympian.

"If this pup doesn’t score, I’m personally takin’ out whoever rigged this game," he growled, narrowing his eyes.

"It’s not rigged!" you laughed.

"That Pomeranian’s been hoggin’ the damn ball all game. It’s clearly a setup."

You buried your face in your hands, laughing so hard your stomach hurt.

Ronin, meanwhile, looked like he was watching the Super Bowl. He was all in. When a tiny beagle got distracted mid-play and just started rolling around on the field, he let out a long, suffering sigh.

"No discipline. No strategy. This team’s a joke."

You nudged him. "They’re literally puppies."

"AND? If you’re gonna play, play to win."

"Oh my god."

And then—it happened.

The dachshund—Ronin’s guy—made a break for it, zooming across the field, dodging bigger puppies left and right. The announcers were going wild.

"LOOK AT THOSE LITTLE LEGS GO!"

"UNSTOPPABLE! A TRUE UNDERDOG STORY!"

Ronin leapt off the couch.

"HOLY SH—RUN, YOU LITTLE DEMON, RUN!"

The dachshund dove—DOVE—into the end zone, ball clenched in his tiny mouth. The crowd on TV erupted. The score updated. Touchdown.

Ronin fist-pumped the air.

"YES! THAT’S MY BOY! MVP! MVP!"

You were cry-laughing at this point, clutching your stomach. Ronin was actually invested. You never thought you’d see the day.

He collapsed back onto the couch, running a hand through his hair, exhilarated.

"Shit," he exhaled. "That was better than half the fights I’ve been in."

"Told you." You grinned.

He glanced at you, then at the screen, then back at you—before smirking. "Guess you got me, angel."

You leaned against him, pressing your face into his shoulder. "So does that mean… Puppy Bowl is a new tradition?"

He let out a dramatic sigh. "Guess so. But next year, I’m bettin’ on Team Ruff."

"Traitor."

"Competitive."

You laughed, and Ronin, despite all his chaos, all his darkness, found himself smiling.

Maybe, just maybe, he didn’t mind nights like this.

Even if it meant postponing a little murder.

For now.

[the0-tdh]

UNDER THE MASK

---/•/------/•/------/•/------/•/------/•/------

Jake had always been good at keeping secrets. Balancing his double life as a college student by day and the city's masked vigilante, Phantom, by night was second nature to him. And most importantly—his boyfriend, M/N, had no clue.

Or at least, that’s what Jake thought.

---/•/------/•/------/•/------/•/------/•/------

MASTERLIST / REQUESTS

---/•/------/•/------/•/------/•/------/•/------

"You’re late."

M/N crossed his arms, standing at the entrance of their shared apartment, his gaze locked onto Jake, who had just stumbled in—hair messy, clothes slightly rumpled, and a faint bruise peeking out from his collar.

Jake froze for a second before flashing his usual sheepish smile. "Traffic was bad?"

M/N raised a brow. "You don’t even have a car."

"Uh… subway delays?" Jake tried, scratching the back of his head.

M/N narrowed his eyes. "Really? Because I checked, and the subway was running fine."

Jake mentally cursed. He had fought off an entire gang of high-tech robbers an hour ago, chased them across half the city, and barely made it back before M/N got too suspicious. He could deal with criminals, but M/N’s interrogation skills? That was a whole different kind of danger.

M/N sighed, stepping closer. "Jake… this isn’t the first time you’ve come home looking like this." His voice softened, concern replacing his frustration. "Are you in trouble? Because if you are, you know you can tell me, right?"

Jake’s heart clenched. He hated lying to M/N. But he couldn’t just say, “Oh yeah, babe, I’m actually a superhero fighting crime every night. That bruise? Totally from getting thrown into a wall by a guy with laser gloves.”

Instead, he cupped M/N’s face gently, forcing a reassuring smile. "I promise, it’s nothing bad. I just… help people sometimes."

M/N studied his face, searching for something—an answer, the truth, maybe even a lie that felt less suspicious. Finally, he sighed and leaned into Jake’s touch. "Just… be careful, okay?"

Jake kissed his forehead, guilt gnawing at him. "Always."

But deep down, he knew the truth wouldn’t stay hidden forever. And when that day came, he just hoped M/N would still look at him the same way.

---

Jake thought he had gotten away with it.

M/N had finally let it go—for now—and Jake told himself he’d be more careful. No more close calls. No more coming home looking like he got hit by a truck (even if, technically, that had happened once… but he healed fast).

But life had other plans.

It started with the news.

“The city’s masked vigilante strikes again! Witnesses report seeing the mysterious hero, known as ‘Phantom,’ stopping an armed robbery downtown before disappearing into the night.”

M/N had glanced at the screen, then at Jake, who had been sipping his coffee way too fast to be normal.

"That Phantom guy is all over the news lately," M/N mused. "Kinda cool, don’t you think?"

Jake had just nodded, trying not to choke on his drink. "Y-Yeah. Super cool."

M/N tilted his head. "You ever wonder who he is?"

Jake nearly dropped his mug. "Uh—what?"

M/N chuckled. "Come on, aren’t you curious? A random guy running around saving people, never getting caught? That’s gotta take serious skill."

Jake forced a casual shrug. "I guess."

M/N leaned in, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. "What if it was someone we knew?"

Jake’s heart stopped.

M/N was messing with him. He had to be. There was no way he knew.

So Jake did what any normal person would do in this situation.

He laughed. "Pfft, yeah right! Like who?"

M/N tapped his chin, pretending to think. "Hmm. Maybe someone who always shows up late, with bruises and really bad excuses?"

Jake’s soul left his body.

M/N stared at him, waiting. And then—

He laughed. "Relax, babe. I’m joking."

Jake let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. "Haha… yeah. Joking."

But as M/N turned back to the TV, Jake saw it—just for a second. That look.

Like he wasn’t completely joking.

Like he suspected something.

And that? That was dangerous.

Because if M/N kept looking too closely… he might just find out the truth.

And once that happened, there was no turning back.

---

Jake had been extra careful ever since M/N’s joke—that wasn’t really a joke.

No more close calls. No more last-minute arrivals with bruises he couldn’t explain. He even started taking taxis home just to sell the “traffic was bad” excuse better.

But fate had other plans. Again.

---

It was supposed to be a normal night. A quiet dinner at home, a movie, maybe falling asleep on the couch together.

But then Jake’s phone vibrated.

An alert from his secret comms.

[Armed robbery in progress—6th Avenue. Multiple hostages. Police can’t get in.]

Jake’s jaw tightened. He couldn’t ignore it.

But M/N was right there, sitting across from him, eating takeout and rambling about something that happened at work. He looked so happy. So peaceful.

Jake clenched his fists. He hated lying. But he had to go.

He forced a smile. "Hey, babe, I just remembered—I, uh, left my wallet at the café earlier. Gotta go grab it before they close."

M/N blinked. "Your wallet? That’s… weird. You never forget stuff like that."

"Yeah, well… first time for everything!" Jake stood up quickly, grabbing his jacket. "I’ll be back soon, okay?"

M/N narrowed his eyes. "Want me to come with you?"

"No!" Jake said, a little too fast. "I mean, it’s fine. You stay here, relax."

M/N didn’t look convinced. But he sighed and waved him off. "Fine, fine. Just don’t take forever."

Jake pressed a quick kiss to his forehead. "Promise."

And with that, he was gone.

---

An Hour Later…

M/N was starting to get annoyed.

Jake was still not back.

And then—

BREAKING NEWS: LIVE FOOTAGE OF PHANTOM TAKING DOWN ARMED ROBBERS ON 6TH AVENUE!

M/N turned to the TV just in time to see the masked vigilante flipping over a counter, dodging bullets with insane speed, taking out three men in seconds.

And the way he moved…

The way he fought…

M/N’s heart pounded.

Because that—

That looked exactly like Jake.

He stared at the screen, watching as Phantom took down the last guy with a spinning kick, then disappeared before the cops could catch him.

A minute later, his phone buzzed.

[Jake: Hey, babe. Just got my wallet. Heading back now. Love you <3]

M/N knew.

He knew.

And now, there was only one thing left to do.

---

When Jake walked through the door, M/N was sitting on the couch, arms crossed, eyes locked on him.

"You get your wallet?" M/N asked, voice eerily calm.

Jake hesitated. "...Yeah?"

M/N stood up, stepping closer. "Funny. Because I just watched Phantom take down an entire gang on the news."

Jake froze.

M/N tilted his head. "You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you, babe?"

Silence.

Then—

"...I can explain."

M/N smirked. "Oh, you better."

[daisy-01-blog]

Stupidly beautiful model got fucked by another beautiful model (Model! Gojo x fem! model reader)

A/N: was thinking of using porn video title as the title but yea…it doesn’t work. Light angst and ended with smut LMAO. Subby Gojo

You’re a famous model known globally, everyone adores you and everyone wants you. Your face is on the magazine, on the banner, literally anywhere. You know that, and you flaunt it. After all, you're gorgeous and rich. 

There’s someone who didn’t appreciate all that, Gojo Satoru. 

It’s not a surprise he becomes a model, he’s gorgeous-with his striking blue eyes and white hair. People adore him. 

You too, you try your best to take his attention-yet he ignored it all the way. 

You two are usually paired with each other, and many people ship you-you’re afraid what they want won’t come true. 

You’re not a player, you had some lovers in the past-but there isn’t any info about Gojo’s dating life. People said he hasn’t dated anyone at all. 

You tried to ask him to hangout after the session ended, and he always refused. And you can’t force him. You still have (some) dignity after all. 

One day, you bought a coffee that you knew he’d like-and you paused in your tracks. You saw him conversing with a beautiful person. 

You’re more beautiful than her of course, but that’s not the point. He’s laughing and smiling, and you never saw him laughing and smiling with you. 

You turned around, sighing. Goodbye, Gojo Satoru. 

*** 

It’s the next day, and you talked to him. He’s surprised you didn’t bring anything-you usually did, to bribe him into loving you. 

“I’ll give up on you” you mutter. 

He raised his eyebrows and smirked, you must be joking. It has been months since you chased him. There’s no way you’ll be giving up now. 

“Sure” he shrugged, that’s all that he said.

You gritted your teeth, so it doesn’t even affect him. The shooting started and end in a breeze, you just wanna go home.

***

“I wanna stop modeling along with Gojo,” you told your manager. 

She raised her brows “you sure? you two have collected tractions all these years” 

You nodded “I wanna try something new” you muttered. She nods “suit yourself” 

Gojo didn’t know what to do with what happened, his manager told him you wouldn’t want to model with him anymore. 

He’s surprised, but he said nothing about it. After all, he felt nothing. Right? 

*** 

A week has passed and he becomes more grumpy, why does it matter to him now that you model with someone else? he didn’t even like you in that way. This shouldn’t even make any sense. 

And when he walks by and saw you on a cafe, laughing and talking with a guy you don’t recognize-he pulls you out there. 

“What!” you said “I’m in the middle of a date” you scoff, crossing your arms. 

You look nice, he noticed. A purple dress and a necklace. He stares at you “why did you leave me?” he said. 

“What?” you said, confused. 

“Why did you just-stop bothering me?” he mutters. 

You huff “isn’t this what you want?” 

“No” he said “I like you” 

You frown “and I’m in the middle of a date, so go away” you said to him. 

He kisses your hand “please” 

***

No one knows how you two get into this, but you ended up riding him on his bed. He shudders in pleasure as the bed creaks. You moan in pleasure. 

“Am sorry” he whines “please don’t leave me-ha” he moans “again” he whines. 

“Only if you’re a good boy” you moan as you feel his huge veiny cock throbbing inside your walls. 

He shudders “don’t stop” he moans as you did. You ride him fast as he moans in pleasure, shaking and panting. 

“Please” he whines “wanna cum” 

You shudder as you two cummed. But he isn’t satisfied. 

He moans in pleasure as he lets you suckle his cock, shaking and panting as you gag on his huge cock. 

He shakes his hips “so good” he whines needily, shaking his hips over and over. 

“Mmmh…” you drool as you kiss his cock. 

“I love you” he mewls “I love you…please don’t stop” 

You swallow his cum. 

“One more?” he whines. 

You grin “sure”

[matchamiko]

miko your tags …….. i’m gonna start barking i wasn’t even thinking abt predator prey roleplay with furina i was just thinking about bullying her until she squirts …. my head is full of thoughts

I literally just blacked out

I just think she’s so adamant about not being scared, about how she’s sooo brave and sooo independent even when she’s with you. So when you suggest she walk on ahead after your cosy little meal out, that you just need to stop and grab something from the postal offices or was it a bag of coffee beans and a cake? She wasn’t truly listening because all of a sudden she’s alone and it’s glowy and dark but not quite night time and the shadows are hazy and the setting sun still has its gentle warmth.

But she’s alone. And you’re not here. Or are you? Furina is a brave girl, you’ll see, she’ll prove to you that she can walk home all on her own even though she’s beginning to quiver and she thinks someone’s following her but she’s too nervous to look back.

S’probably just someone going in the same direction as her, wearing your same shoes with your same gait. But she can’t be sure. Nerves muffle your footsteps into something unrecognisable, causes sweat to bead on the back of her neck and unleashes something jittery in her tummy. It’s you, it has to be. Who else has a jingly little bell on their belt?

But you wouldn’t chase her like this? Would you? Or stalk? Like she was something meek and ripe and delectable. Maybe you would. You do devour her like a predator most of the time, and sometimes you’re mean about it too. Maybe you’re being mean now. Maybe. Maybe you’re having fun, teasing her, running her into a narrow alley with a dead end which Furina purposefully on accident went down.

She was scared! How was she supposed to know it was the next alley that was the shortcut when she’s close to hyperventilating and suddenly throwing furtive, terrified glances over her shoulder? You’re shrouded in shadow, but your eyes glow with something worrying and hungry. You seem bigger than life, but oh so small in your flitting from shadow to shadow in your advancing upon her.

Furina squeaks. You smile with a wet smack of your lips. She twirls around and kicks over an empty box. You do not stop your measured steps towards her and emit a soothing shushing noise as if trying to calm a frightened, cornered prey.

Perhaps you were, with how she was trembling and searching for a way out. But where her panting was picking up, her bottom lip wobbling and her eyes glistening with tears; her thighs, pale in the dappled dusk light, were squeezing and brushing together, not doubt concealing something shameful. Furina whimpered and backed against the wall,

“Stop it,” she whispered, “you’re being mean,”

“You’ve gotten yourself a bit lost, haven’t you honey?”

Furina tells herself she doesn’t like you calling her that, but she can’t deny the honey slowly sticking to her underwear with the way you size her up like a meal.

“I’m not lost, someone was following me,” she tries to be brave, tries to hold her head up but you’re stopping a few feet from where she’s quivering and staring at her. Through her. Eyes hot and melting her from the inside, as if she’s naked before you and you’re drinking everything without shame.

“Maybe they were, and you thought to get yourself cornered? How silly of you Furina, such a silly, foolish girl,” you chastise, though it doesn’t quite hold the heat and Furina squeezes at the humiliation, eyes closed tight and lip bitten raw. She doesn’t want to look at you, at the way you take in her squirming and rustling and fidgeting.

“It’s almost as if - you wanted to be caught, such an absurd thought, I thought you wanted the independence - I thought you were smarter than that Furina,”

The space between the two of you feels heavy, like jelly, like ice ready to shatter and Furina isn’t sure when you move. But you do. And it’s fast, predatory, a strike when she’s least expecting it. And she’s crying out and jerking against you but you’re solid and eager and hissing into her mouth with your hand shoved down her shorts.

“Do you want to learn your lesson? That you should always do as I say? That everything I do is to keep you safe?” Your fingers are so mean, so so mean and hard and rough but so fucking good between her thighs. There’s a ring on your thumb and it’s cold when you slip against her clit, but your fingers are warm when they bully inside of her and twist and crook and curl and beg against the sweetest, gooiest spots.

“When I tell you to go on ahead and head home, especially while it’s still light enough - what do you do?”

Furina turns her head away from you, eyes fluttering and lips wet from - something. She’s a mess, wound up tighter than usual and she thinks it’s from being so crudely in public, hidden by the shadows and fully clothed. Her nipples are so hard against her brassier, rubbing painful and sensitive when she wishes for the dressing of your mouth. Her heels scrape loudly on the stone, unable to keep herself still and upright, trusting you to bear her weight and shove her into the wall. She shakes her head, unable to remember the question.

“Answer me Furina, be a good girl now,” your other hand fondles her chest, hard and rough but only because of her many layers of clothing. You’re kind here, finding her nipple and tweaking it enough to have her gasping even if the sensation is slightly muted by her sash, and coat, and waistcoat, and shirt, and brassier. She curses. She sobs that she wishes she was naked so she could feel you touching her properly. She weeps your name when you add a third finger and marvel quietly to yourself about how well she’s taking you.

Her cunt is snug, oozy, molten hot and silky soft, accepting your fingers greedily. You grow annoyed for a moment that it isn’t your cock that she’s milking so eagerly, blue and opaque with surprisingly comfortable straps. You’re sure she’d leave creamy rings round the base. You’re sure she’d let you slip a couple of fingers alongside, if she’s so delectably hungry for it.

“Huh - wha -?” Furina is babbling and jolting and half fighting you through your aroused delirium, unaware of how thoroughly you were fucking her into the bare, brick wall. It’s gibberish what she’s half sobbing, mascara tracking down her cheeks and there’s a yelp of your name maybe, and you’re suddenly hyper aware of how wet she is and how she’s clenching and her clit throbs hard as fuck beneath your thumb and - and

She comes loud enough for it to echo down the alley, perhaps through the entire district. A punch of a cry, loud and high pitched, breathless as if she had been running for miles and miles. Warmth floods between her legs but this is different, this is so different to what she’s used to. At the last second, you’d ripped your fingers from her and viciously rubbed her clit somehow even in the confines of her clothes. And there was no stopping the force of her orgasm, coating your hand and leaving her absolutely sodden,

“So not only are you a silly, foolish girl, but you’re a dirty one too? I thought you were a brave, independent woman Furina, look at yourself - you’re a mess,”

Furina can’t answer you, twitching and staring up at the sky with tears still flooding down her cheeks. You’re right, she thinks, she’s a mess. She can feel it running down her legs and staining her socks, she can hear it as you pull your hand from her shorts and wipe it clean on your skirt, she can smell it in the air as she dares to test the strength of her legs. Humiliation fills her from the toes up to her head, tingling and cold, ready to send her into a fit of dry sobs and begs for this never to be mentioned again,

“You know I’m gonna make you do that again right? Fuck - imagine the mess you’d make at home,”

Your voice snaps her down from the heavens, clutching you like a lifeline. Something like a laugh rumbles through you as she throws herself into your arms and hides her face in your neck, cheeks burning and lips pouting. You stroke her back,

“Nearly got there Furina, a few more steps and you would’ve made it home all on your own, and you let me explore a little of something I like as well, thank you,”

Furina doesn’t dare look at you but emits a funny noise of confusion, allowing you to guide her from the wall as you begin your short walk home. Just before you reach the street, you pause and take her cheeks with your forefinger and thumb, forcing her to look at you with her lips plump and wet,

“You’re cute when you’re frightened, can’t help chasing you, scaring you a little, makes me feel good,”

Furina goes to speak, in defence or argument or to make some excuse; but you kiss her quiet. A chaste thing, lingering, soft and promising before leading her across the street to your apartments. You look back as you usher her over the threshold and stifle a grin at the little damp drops that had followed her from the alley, a stain upon the street and forever ingrained in your memory.