#rating: mature

[yubinism]

i just finished the final part of the fuckboy next door, and honestly, it left me with so much to think about. at first glance, it feels like a familiar rom-com setup—the charming neighbor with a notorious reputation, the banter, the undeniable chemistry—but what really stood out to me were the undertones that ran quietly beneath the surface. it’s not just about attraction or a will-they-won’t-they dynamic; it’s about perception, vulnerability, and the quiet ways people reveal their true selves.

one thing i kept noticing was how reputation played such a huge role in their story. like, everyone sees the guy as just a player, a fuckboy, but underneath all of that is this vulnerability that’s never explicitly spelled out—it’s just there. the neighbor is labeled a “fuckboy,” and for a while, he plays into it—because what else is he supposed to do? it’s easier to be what everyone expects of you than to challenge it. but as the story progresses, you see these subtle shifts in him, these small cracks in the persona he’s built, and it’s so deeply human. it’s not a dramatic change—it’s gradual, real, and so satisfying to watch. and the protagonist? she sees those cracks before anyone else does, even before he does. it’s such a quiet, beautiful reminder of what it means to truly see someone.

effie, your writing style is what makes this story so impactful. it’s sharp and witty when it needs to be, but it also has this incredible way of sneaking up on you emotionally. the dialogue is snappy and fun, but it’s the moments in between that stay with you—the silences, the glances, the pauses where so much is left unsaid. you write in a way that feels effortless but carries so much weight. every word feels intentional, every scene layered with meaning.

the writing has this sneaky way of making you question what we owe each other in relationships, even when we don’t realize it. there’s this one moment (you know the one) where everything just clicks, and it’s like a gut punch because you realize how much of their connection has been built on things they didn’t say. it’s such a delicate balance between the loudness of their chemistry and the quiet truths simmering under it.

what i loved the most is how you balances the lightness of their banter with the heavier, unspoken themes. it’s like the story has two voices: one loud and playful, and one quiet and reflective. and together, they create something so rich and memorable. i can’t stop thinking about how much growth and emotion you packed into this final chapter without it ever feeling forced.

it’s the kind of writing that pulls you in and stays with you long after you’re done. eff, you have such a gift for crafting characters and relationships that feel so real, and i’m honestly in awe. this story wasn’t just a romance—it was a deep, thoughtful exploration of identity, connection, and the courage it takes to let someone truly know you. absolutely brilliant. thank you for working so hard and constantly delivering such beautiful pieces on fridays. im so proud of you, thank you for writing this, my luv 💕

THE FUCKBOY NEXT DOOR.

FINAL PART.

Bangchan x reader. (s,f,a)

Chapters: Part I / Part II / Part III

Synopsis: When a new fuckboy, Minho, moves into the building, Chan’s sense of security is shaken. Minho’s flirtatious confidence and bold claim to win you over rattles Chan, igniting a rivalry. As Chan struggles to defend his relationship, he’s forced to confront his insecurities while proving his worth to you. (18,1k words)

Author's note: It's been fun writing this series. Thank you for enjoying this "fuckboy". Hope you enjoy this one too, my darlings ♡

The early morning light filters through the window, painting the room in soft hues of gold. You blink awake, your senses still heavy with sleep, and it takes a moment to realize where you are—wrapped in the warmth of Chan’s bed, tangled in the sheets that carry his comforting scent.

Turning your head, your gaze falls on him. Chan lies next to you, his face relaxed in sleep, his lashes casting delicate shadows over his cheeks. His soft curls are a tousled mess, a few strands falling over his forehead. He’s snoring lightly, the sound barely audible but undeniably endearing.

You can’t help but smile as your heart swells with affection. Careful not to wake him, you reach out, your fingers brushing his curls gently, marveling at their softness. The light touch doesn’t disturb him; he shifts slightly, murmuring something unintelligible before settling again.

Your hand trails lower, tracing the line of his jaw, the curve of his cheekbone, the slight bump of his nose. He looks so peaceful, so utterly beautiful, that for a moment, you’re content to simply watch him.

You know you should wake him, ask if he wants to come with you to the farmer’s market like you’d planned. But seeing him like this, so serene, you can’t bring yourself to disturb him. Instead, you lean down and press a feather-light kiss to his lips, his soft breathing tickling your skin.

With a final glance, you slip out of bed and quietly gather your things. Pulling on yesterday’s clothes, you tiptoe out of his apartment, careful not to make a sound.

As you step into the hallway, the door closing gently behind you, you nearly jump when you see Minho standing a few steps away, leaning casually against the wall. He’s dressed for the day, a small smirk playing on his lips as he takes in your disheveled appearance.

“Morning,” he says, his tone teasing but not unkind.

You feel the heat rush to your cheeks, shyly hugging yourself to hide your rumpled clothes. “Good morning, Minho,” you mumble, offering him a small, embarrassed smile.

“You're a morning person, I see,” he adds with a playful lift of his brow, his eyes flicking down from your head to your toe.

Your face burns hotter, but you muster a weak laugh. “Why are you even awake this early?”

Minho shrugs, his smirk softening into something closer to amusement. “Wanted to check out the farmer’s market. Fresh produce, you know?”

Your eyes light up, relief washing over you at the change of subject. “Really? I was actually heading there too.”

“Perfect timing,” he says, straightening up. “Want to go together?”

You nod, grateful for the distraction. “Sure, just give me a minute to change. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

As you move past him, hugging yourself tighter, you catch Minho’s amused glance lingering. It’s clear he’s enjoying your flustered state, but he doesn’t say anything more.

Safely inside your apartment, you lean against the door, exhaling deeply. You glance down at yourself—messy hair, wrinkled clothes—and groan softly, vowing to make yourself presentable before facing Minho again.

You can still feel the warmth of Chan’s bed, the softness of his curls beneath your fingers, and the image of his peaceful face stays with you as you quickly get ready. It’s a walk of shame, sure—but you can’t find it in yourself to regret it.

-

Chan stretches out on the bed, his hand instinctively reaching for the space beside him. It’s empty, but the faint warmth still lingering on the sheets tells him you haven’t been gone long. The sunlight filtering through the curtains reminds him it’s Saturday—your farmer’s market day.

He sighs, running a hand through his messy hair as he sits up. Saturday mornings are quiet without you. Your trips to the farmer’s market are a ritual he admires, though he can’t help but miss waking up to your smile.

Throwing on a hoodie, he pads into the kitchen. The apartment is quiet, save for the hum of the fridge. He pours himself a glass of orange juice, sipping it while glancing at the clock. You should be back soon.

As if on cue, the sound of your laughter echoes through the hallway. Chan perks up, moving to the door just in time to hear another voice—deeper, smooth, and unfamiliar.

Curious, he cracks the door open. You’re standing there, balancing bags filled with fruits and vegetables, laughing at something the man beside you has said.

“Let me take that,” the new neighbor, Minho, offers, easily grabbing one of the heavier bags from your hand.

“Thanks, Minho,” you say with a warm smile.

Chan’s chest tightens as he opens the door wider. “Hey, you’re back,” he says, keeping his tone casual.

He leans in to give you a kiss on the cheek and you subtly dodge away again by turning your head, beaming. “Chris! Look who I ran into at the market.”

Minho looks up, flashing Chan a confident smile as he extends a hand. “Morning, Chris.”

“Morning,” Chan weakly replies with a faint smile.

“We bumped into each other,” you explain. “And he’s new to the area, so I showed him around a bit.”

“That was kind of you,” Chan says, the words sharper than he intends.

Minho doesn’t seem fazed. “She's got great taste. She picked out the best peaches I’ve ever seen.”

Chan’s jaw tightens as he opens his mouth to reply, but Minho shifts his attention back to you before he can. “Here, let me carry this for you,” Minho says, gently brushing your hand as he takes another bag from your arm.

“Thanks, but I’ve got it,” you reply, though your smile stays warm.

“Too late. Can’t let someone as lovely as you strain herself,” Minho says smoothly, winking.

Chan’s stomach churns, his grip tightening around the doorframe. “I think she’s stronger than she looks,” he mutters, his tone laced with a subtle edge.

Minho turns, a smirk playing on his lips as if he hears the challenge in Chan’s voice. “Maybe. But I’m just trying to be neighborly.” His eyes flick to Chan’s, sharp with a silent taunt, before he turns back to you.

“Well, I’d better get these inside,” you say, oblivious to the tension. “Thanks for helping with the bags, Minho.”

“No problem,” Minho replies, stepping back toward his apartment. “See you around, neighbor.” His voice is light, but as he passes Chan, his shoulder brushes just enough to feel deliberate.

Chan watches as Minho disappears behind his door, leaving the two of you alone in the hallway.

“Nice guy, huh?” you say, unlocking your door and stepping inside.

“Yeah,” Chan mutters, following you in. But deep down, he knows Minho isn’t just being friendly.

As you step inside, you nudge the door open wider, motioning for Chan to follow. "Come on, don’t just stand there."

He steps in, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The moment it’s shut, Chan’s frustration bubbles to the surface.

“So,” he starts, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall, “why do you always dodge me when I try to kiss you outside?”

You pause, setting the bags on the kitchen counter. “What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean,” he says, his tone half-playful, half-serious. “I went in for a kiss earlier, and you just… turned away. Again.”

You exhale, pulling a carton of eggs from one of the bags and placing it in the fridge. “I’m just not comfortable with public displays of affection, Chris. It’s not you—it’s me.”

“Yeah, but it’s hard not to take it personally,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair.

You walk over to him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make you feel like that. It’s not about you. It’s just how I feel. I promise it’s not because I don’t care about you.”

He glances at you, his frown softening slightly. “I just… I like showing the world you’re mine, you know?”

You smile, cupping his cheek. “I know,” you murmur, brushing your thumb against his skin, “but in here, you can kiss me as many times as you want.”

His face lights up at your words, the tension in his shoulders melting away. Without hesitation, he pulls you into his arms, holding you so close there’s barely any space between you.

His lips find yours, soft and eager, moving with a tenderness that makes your heart flutter. You kiss him back, threading your fingers through his hair, feeling him relax under your touch.

The kiss deepens, Chan’s hands sliding down to your waist, pulling you flush against him. His lips grow hungrier, and his grip tightens as he starts to lose himself in you. Sensing the shift, you gently pull back, your lips lingering on his for a moment before parting.

“Easy there, tiger,” you tease softly.

He groans, resting his forehead against yours. “You’re killing me.”

You laugh, stroking his hair. “Come on. Let me make you breakfast.”

He sighs dramatically but steps back, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Fine. But only if I get to watch.”

“Deal,” you say, heading toward the kitchen, feeling his eyes on you the whole way.

As you start pulling ingredients from the fridge, Chan takes a seat at the table, watching you with a soft smile. Moments like these remind him why he doesn’t need the validation of public displays—this, right here, is what matters.

-

It’s one of those rare weekends where neither of you has work pulling you in different directions, and Chan insisted on making the most of it.

“Just a normal date,” he’d said, grinning like a kid as he scrolled through movie listings.

Now, as you step out of the restroom, the smell of buttery popcorn fills the air. You spot Chan at the concession stand, leaning slightly against the counter as he waits for the popcorn and drinks. He’s smiling, that warm, dimpled grin you’ve come to adore.

But it’s not for you.

The girl behind the counter, probably a college student, is laughing at something he said. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, her gaze lingering a little too long on him. You know that look—girls are always drawn to him like moths to a flame.

You don’t even feel a pang of jealousy anymore; it’s practically routine. Still, you’re not about to let her think he’s single.

Walking up beside him, you clear your throat. “Got the tickets?” you ask casually, your voice cutting through their little bubble.

Chan startles slightly, his grin faltering before he turns to you. “Uh, yeah, got them right here.” He pats his pocket like a man trying to prove he hasn’t lost his wallet.

The girl’s expression falters, and she quickly hands over the popcorn and drinks. Chan fumbles with his wallet, hurriedly paying as if he can’t get away fast enough.

Once you’re walking toward the theater, his shoulder brushing yours, he exhales and glances at you sheepishly. “You could’ve let me hold your hand, you know. Then everyone would’ve known I’m with you.”

You roll your eyes, the corner of your mouth quirking up. “I never said you couldn’t hold my hand, Chris.”

His face lights up with a grin, and before you can react, his hand slides into yours, warm and secure. “You’re right,” he says smugly, giving your hand a squeeze. “You didn’t.”

Shaking your head, you let him lead you into the dim theater, his thumb brushing against yours. As the movie starts, Chan leans closer, whispering, “Next time, I’m holding your hand the whole time, no excuses.”

You bite back a smile and focus on the screen, feeling the warmth of his hand in yours. Some things about Chan might drive you crazy, but moments like this make it all worth it.

-

The movie is halfway in, but Chan's attention is barely on the screen. Instead, you catch him watching you out of the corner of your eye. His hand stays in yours, his thumb idly tracing circles against your skin, but his gaze keeps flickering your way.

You nudge him gently. “Chris, the screen is that way. You’re missing the movie you wanted to see so badly.”

He grins, unapologetic. “Yeah, but I kind of regret taking you here now.”

You raise an eyebrow, curious. “Oh? And why’s that?”

He shrugs, leaning closer so his voice doesn’t carry. “If we were watching this at home, I could actually cuddle you... maybe kiss you a little.” His grin turns teasing. “Or a lot.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “This whole thing was your idea.”

“I know, I know,” he admits, squeezing your hand. “But I can’t help it. You’re right here, looking all cute, and I’m supposed to just sit here and watch the movie?”

You glance at him, warmth blooming in your chest despite his antics. You’ve always appreciated how much Chan respects your boundaries. One of those boundaries being your aversion to public displays of affection.

But right now, sitting in the darkened theater with no one paying attention, you’re tempted to bend the rules. You put your bucket of popcorn aside, turning fully to face him. Gently, you cup his cheek, drawing his attention to you. His eyes widen, and you can see the curiosity sparkling in them.

“It’s dark in here,” you whisper, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “I think we can make an exception just this once.”

Chan doesn’t need to be told twice. He leans in immediately, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that’s soft at first, almost testing. But as you respond, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, his hand comes up to cradle your jaw, his thumb brushing your cheek.

It’s as if he’s been waiting all day for this, and the world outside the theater melts away. The movie becomes background noise as the two of you lose yourselves in the moment.

By the time you both pull back, slightly breathless, the movie is already well past its climactic scene. You glance at the screen, then back at Chan, who looks utterly content.

“We missed most of it,” you point out with a low laugh.

“Totally worth it,” he murmurs, his fingers still entwined with yours.

He leans in again, clearly aiming for another kiss, but you grab a piece of popcorn and pop it into his mouth instead. His lips close around it, his expression shifting to surprise before softening into amusement.

You laugh quietly, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “Focus, Chris. At least pretend to watch the ending.”

He chews the popcorn, grinning as he leans back into his seat. “Fine, but just know I’m only staying for you, not the movie.”

You shake your head, trying to hide your smile as you settle back beside him. Chan might be incorrigible, but moments like this make you fall for him just a little more.

-

The elevator hums quietly as it ascends, but Chan barely notices. His attention is entirely on you—your hand in his, the faint smile playing on your lips, and the soft glow of the overhead lights casting shadows over your features.

He feels giddy, almost buzzing from the events of the night. The movie had been fun, but honestly, he can barely remember the plot. What he does remember is you, and how you made the entire evening feel like something out of a dream.

Unable to help himself, he leans in and presses a quick kiss to your cheek. You turn your head, meeting his gaze with a raised eyebrow, and he grins mischievously.

“So... Your place or mine?” he teases, his tone light but with a playful edge.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “Neither. I’m going to my place to sleep because I’m working tomorrow.”

His grin fades into a dramatic pout, his shoulders slumping. “What? No fair. I thought we were having a date night, not a goodnight.”

The elevator dings softly as it reaches your floor, and before he can protest further, you tighten your grip on his hand and pull him along toward your apartment.

Once you reach your door, you turn to him with a sly smile, one that makes his heart skip a beat. “You’re staying at my place tonight, Chris.”

His pout vanishes instantly, replaced with a boyish grin. He doesn’t need to be told twice.

The moment you unlock the door and step inside, Chan pulls you close, his arms wrapping around your waist as his lips find yours in a kiss that’s anything but restrained. All the affection he’s been holding back spills out as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss.

His hands wander to your lower back, pressing you flush against him, and he groans softly when you respond with equal fervor. The scent of your perfume lingers between you, mingling with the faint warmth of the apartment.

Chan smiles against your lips, murmuring, “I don’t care how early you have to wake up tomorrow. I’m not letting you go.”

And for now, it seems, you’re just as unwilling to let him go either.

-

"Are you going to be my girl tonight?"

Chan's voice is husky, teasing, as his lips capture yours in a deep, heated kiss. He doesn’t wait for an answer—not with the way your body responds to him. His hands glide down your sides, firm but tender, pulling you closer, despite you already being laid bare before him.

He finally breaks the kiss, only to continue down your body, his lips leaving a burning trail on your skin. You're sprawled across the bed, your legs dangling off the edge, and the way Chan looks at you feels like he’s savoring every second.

“I know you like it when I call you that,” he murmurs as he parts your legs, kneeling before you like you’re the only thing that matters in the world. You giggle softly as he places a teasing kiss on the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

“You are my girl,” he breathes, his voice thick with reverence. “My sweet, sweet girl.”

He punctuates each word with a kiss closer and closer to where you need him most. You barely have time to prepare before he surprises you, tugging your body toward the edge of the bed and positioning himself closer, deeper. Your breath catches as he throws your legs over his shoulders and dives in, his mouth working magic that has you squirming in seconds.

Chan’s skill is unmatched—his nose pressing against your most sensitive spot, his tongue exploring with precision and intent. Your hands find their way to his curls, your toes curling, your body writhing under his ministrations. The sound of your moans fills the room, sweet and breathless, as he pushes you closer to the edge.

And when you finally unravel, shattering in his hands and on his lips, he doesn’t let up. Instead, he lingers, soft kisses marking your thighs, his tenderness grounding you in the aftermath of bliss.

Hovering above you now, Chan takes in the sight of you, your chest rising and falling, your face radiant with pleasure. His dimples appear as he smiles, brushing stray hair away from your damp forehead. He leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss so gentle, it feels like a promise.

“Hey,” you tease, your voice light and playful as you encircle his neck with your arms. “Your girl wants you to put it in now.”

His brows raise, his grin widening. “My girl wants it inside?” He presses his forehead to yours, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Now?”

You nod, your sly smile making his chest tighten with affection. “Mm-hmm.”

With deliberate slowness, he drags his lips down your jaw, leaving a trail of heat on your skin. “Only if you say please,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Baby, please,” you coo, and the way the pet name falls from your lips has him grinning, his dimples sinking deep into his cheeks.

Chan doesn’t need more encouragement. He shifts lower, positioning himself at the edge of the bed. One hand holds your leg open while the other guides himself to your entrance. As he pushes in, his eyes lock onto yours, drinking in the way your expression shifts—the way your lips part in a gasp, the way your body arches to meet his.

Fully sheathed, he pauses, his chest rising and falling as he takes in the sensation of you. With a satisfied smile, he begins to move, the angle perfect thanks to the bed’s height. Each thrust is measured, deliberate, his focus entirely on you. Your hands glide over his shoulders, down his arms, feeling every inch of him. They trail lower, cupping his ass with a playful squeeze that earns you a breathy chuckle.

He leans down, teasing you with a slow kiss before pulling back just enough to ask, “Impressed?”

Your gaze is locked on his, unwavering, and you nod firmly. “Very.”

Your moans mix with his quiet groans, the room filled with the sound of shared pleasure. Chan’s eyes never leave you, watching every flicker of emotion that crosses your face. He’s close—he can feel it, and with the way you’re tightening around him, he knows you are too.

“Where do you want it, hmm?” he asks, his voice rough with restraint.

But instead of answering, you pull him into a kiss, hot and heavy, your tongues tangling as if the world outside doesn’t exist. The kiss steals his breath, and the moment takes him over the edge.

With a groan, Chan pulls out at the last second, climbing onto the bed and positioning himself over you. His hand moves quickly, chasing his release as your hands rest on his thighs, your gaze locked on him in anticipation.

Moments later, with a shudder and a raw moan, his release spills over your chest, painting your skin in streaks of white. You gasp softly, the sight of him undone above you leaving you breathless.

Chan collapses onto his elbows, framing your face with his arms. He kisses you deeply, his lips lingering as he brushes your hair back with tender fingers.

“Stay, yeah? I’ll grab a cloth,” he whispers against your skin, his tone filled with affection.

You stop him with a soft kiss, smiling. “Okay.”

After a quick cleanup in the bathroom, he returns to find you sitting up on the bed, your hair swept back, your skin glistening wet in the aftermath of passion. With gentle care, he wipes you down, his touch lingering longer than necessary.

When he’s done, you reward him with a kiss, your lips soft and full of promise. “Thank you,” you say with a grin.

“Time to cuddle.” He eagerly moves to his side of the bed, ready for his favorite part of the night.

You hold a hand to his chest, stopping him from pulling you in. “Hold that thought,” you tease, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “I have to pee.”

Chan laughs, watching you saunter off to the bathroom, and admiring how beautiful you are with your skin glowing under the soft glow of your bedroom lights.

“That’s my girl,” he delightfully sighs, his smile full of adoration.

-

Chan is already smiling when you step out of the bathroom, his head resting lazily on the pillow, the sheets pooling around his waist. The way he looks at you, with an easy grin and a softness that doesn’t quite match the image he projects to the rest of the world, almost makes you forget to breathe. But his smile drops the moment he notices you pulling on a t-shirt.

"Hey," he whines, propping himself up on his elbows. “Take that off. It’s illegal to wear clothes in bed when I’m here.”

You roll your eyes, tugging the hem of the shirt into place. “I’m cold.”

“Excuses.” He opens his arms wide, an irresistible invitation. “Come here. I’ll warm you up.”

With a small shake of your head but a smile on your lips, you crawl into bed beside him. He helps you taking the t-shirt off and aggressively tosses it onto the floor after. His arms wrap around you immediately, pulling you close until your head rests on his chest. His hand finds its way to your hair, idly brushing through the strands while his other arm holds you securely against him.

For a while, there’s just comfortable silence. Chan’s chest rises and falls steadily beneath your cheek, and you let yourself relax into the comforting rhythm.

Then, out of nowhere, Chan breaks the quiet.

“Why aren’t we dating yet?”

You blink, caught off guard. “What?”

“I mean, think about it,” he says, his voice contemplative as his hand stills in your hair. “We like each other, right? That much is obvious. And the… uh, sexual chemistry?” His lips curl into a sheepish smile you can feel more than see. “It’s off the charts. So why aren’t we just… together?”

You lift your head to look at him, raising a playful eyebrow. “What happened to the guy who used to hide in my apartment to avoid having these kinds of conversations with the girls he was seeing? Huh?”

Chan chuckles, the sound low and warm. “That guy grew up, okay?”

You hum, pretending to think. “Who are you? And what did you do to the fuckboy next door?”

He laughs outright this time, shaking his head. “He retired. Sold the title. But seriously...” His voice softens as he meets your gaze again. “I want this. I want us. So why not just make it official?”

His earnestness leaves a slight ache in your chest, but you press it down. Instead, you offer him a soft smile, reaching up to brush his cheek with your fingertips.

“I think,” you begin carefully, “that we shouldn’t rush it. Relationships are a big deal, and I don’t want to mess this up. We’ll know when it’s the right time, Chris. I promise.”

He searches your face for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he sighs and nods. “Yeah. Okay. I get it.”

But you can feel the tension lingering in his shoulders as he pulls you close again. You know what’s bothering him, even if he doesn’t say it. Minho. That bold, smug smile. The little comments that he probably thinks are harmless but dig under Chan’s skin like splinters.

And for all his charm and newfound earnestness, Chan is still afraid. Afraid of losing you before he even truly has you.

-

The bed shakes, pulling Chan from the light doze he’s been enjoying. He cracks an eye open, disoriented, and watches as you bolt out of bed, mumbling something about being late. The slam of the bathroom door jolts him further awake, and he groans, dragging his hand down his face.

A quick glance at the clock confirms it—you’ve overslept. Knowing how rushed you must feel, Chan forces himself up despite wanting to stay cocooned in the sheets a little longer. He stretches, yawns, and heads to the bathroom. The sound of water rushing in the shower drowns out any chance of conversation, so he settles for a quick wash at the sink before leaving you to it.

In the kitchen, he moves on autopilot, pulling ingredients from the fridge and setting the coffee machine to brew. Within minutes, the smell of toast fills the air, mingling with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Chan prepares a cup just the way you like it and grabs a plate with a buttered toast before making his way to the bedroom.

When he enters, you’re perched in front of the vanity, expertly applying your makeup in quick, efficient motions. You glance at him in the mirror and flash a grateful smile as he sets the coffee and toast down beside you.

“Thanks, baby,” you murmur, pausing briefly to take a sip of coffee and a bite of toast before resuming your routine.

Chan smiles hearing you used a petname for him and then he leans against the wall, watching you with a fond smile. “Want me to help dry your hair while you do that?”

You glance at him and nod. “That’d be great.”

He picks up the hairdryer and begins carefully running his fingers through your hair as he dries it, making sure not to disturb your makeup process. It’s a small thing, but he loves moments like these—helping you in the ways he can, being part of your busy mornings.

When you’re finally ready, you sit on the bench by the foyer to put on your shoes. Chan hovers nearby, watching as you lace them up.

“Want me to pick you up at the bus stop later?” he asks.

You glance up, slipping your second shoe on. “I’m working on a photoshoot today. I’m not sure when I’ll be done.”

Chan nods, already mentally preparing to wait up for your call regardless of the hour. You stand, heading for the door, but Chan stops you with a light tug on your arm.

“You’re forgetting something,” he says, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

You blink and smirk, leaning in to give him a quick kiss. “There.”

Chan laughs, holding up your phone. “Not that, genius.”

Your cheeks flush, and you laugh along with him, snatching the phone from his hand. “Thanks. Again.” This time, you cup his face and give him a longer, lingering kiss, leaving him momentarily breathless.

The two of you exit the apartment together, and just as the elevator arrives on your floor, you step inside, waving goodbye with a rushed smile.

Chan stands there, hands in his pockets, watching the doors close with a content grin on his face. He couldn’t ask for a better way to start his day.

The elevator doors slide shut, and Chan stands in the hallway for a moment, a warm smile lingering on his face. He stretches, ready to head back inside for a quiet, lazy morning. Just as he turns to his door, a voice cuts through the peaceful silence.

"Well, isn’t this a cozy little scene?"

Chan looks up to see Minho leaning casually against the doorway of his apartment, arms crossed and a smirk plastered across his face.

“Good morning, Chris. Or should I call you ‘Neighbor Boyfriend’ now?” Minho teases, his voice laced with mock amusement.

Chan’s grin falters slightly, replaced by a frown. “Morning,” he half-heartedly replies, trying to keep his tone neutral.

Minho straightens up and steps into the hallway, his smirk only widening. “Gotta say, you two are quite the sight. She’s so... composed, and then there’s you, acting like a lovesick puppy.”

Chan exhales sharply through his nose, willing himself to keep his cool. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, don’t I?” Minho chuckles, casually leaning closer. “I mean, I’ve only been here a few days, and it’s already obvious. You’re head over heels, but her?” He shrugs, feigning innocence. “Hard to tell.”

Chan clenches his jaw but forces a smile. “Thanks for the unsolicited opinion, Minho.”

Minho chuckles again, stepping back toward his door. “Just calling it as I see it. Enjoy your day, Chris.”

He gives a mocking little wave before disappearing into his apartment, leaving the door slightly ajar as if to taunt him further.

Chan stands frozen for a moment, hands curling into fists at his sides. He lets out a deep breath, shaking his head as he steps back into his own apartment, Minho’s words still echoing in his mind.

Ugh. So much for a peaceful morning.

-

Chan wipes the sweat off his forehead as he steps into his apartment, dropping his gym bag by the door. His phone buzzes, and he checks the screen to see a message from you:

Almost done with work! Heading to the bus stop soon.

A grin tugs at his lips, and he glances at the time. “Perfect,” he mutters, making his way to the bathroom for a quick shower. He knows you’ll appreciate him being on time, especially after how hectic your morning started.

Minutes later, Chan is freshly showered, towel-drying his hair as he scans his wardrobe for something decent to wear. Settling on a simple hoodie and jeans, he slips into his sneakers and grabs his phone, ready to text you that he’s on his way.

Before he can type a word, there’s a knock at the door. His brows furrow. It’s too early for you, and he’s not expecting anyone else. When he opens it, the sight on the other side is the exact opposite of what he wants to see.

Minho stands there, a sly grin plastered across his face.

“Chris! Just the guy I was looking for,” Minho says, leaning casually against the doorframe.

Chan crosses his arms and narrows his eyes. “What do you want, Minho?”

Minho straightens up, his grin widening. “Oh, nothing much. Just here to show someone where you live.”

Before Chan can question him further, Minho steps aside, and someone else comes into view. His stomach twists as he sees her. Sue.

The familiar face catches him off guard. Sue, with her perfectly styled hair and charming smile, greets him warmly.

“Hey, Chris,” she says, her tone light and casual, as if no time had passed since they last spoke.

Chan’s hand tightens on the doorframe, his mind racing. Of all the people to show up here, Sue is the last person he expected—or wanted—to see.

“...Sue,” he finally manages, his voice clipped. He shoots a quick glare at Minho, who’s now leaning against the hallway wall, looking far too pleased with himself.

Chan forces himself to meet her gaze, bracing for whatever reason she’s here—and for whatever game Minho thinks he’s playing.

-

Chan sets the glass of juice on the coffee table in front of Sue, trying to balance politeness with the unease creeping up his spine. He forces a small smile as she thanks him, her eyes scanning the room before landing on him again.

“Nice place, Chris,” she says, her tone light, her lips curving into a warm smile. “It’s cozy.”

“Thanks,” he replies curtly, sitting down on the armrest of a nearby chair instead of joining her on the sofa. He fiddles with the hem of his hoodie, feeling the seconds stretch awkwardly between them. “So… why are you here, Sue?”

Sue’s expression brightens as if she’s been waiting for the question. She reaches into her bag and pulls out a tie, holding it up.

“This,” she says, a playful tone in her voice. “I believe it’s yours. From that wedding we were at a while back. You left it behind.”

Chan stares at the tie for a moment before taking it from her. It’s familiar, all right—the tie he wore the night they reconnected. He thanks her, though the gesture feels unnecessary. A tie isn’t exactly something worth returning.

“You really didn’t have to go out of your way for this,” he says, placing it on the coffee table.

Sue shrugs, crossing her legs. “I thought it’d be nice to stop by. And I figured it’d give us a chance to catch up.”

She leans back, her gaze softening. “It was such a surprise seeing you again that night. It brought back so many memories, you know?”

Chan nods, his smile tight as he feels her words start to linger in the air. He’s polite but cautious, sensing the subtle shift in her tone.

Sue continues, her voice lowering slightly, as though sharing a secret. “And if we're being honest, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since then.”

Chan freezes, the implication behind her words settling heavily between them. His heart sinks as he realizes where this conversation is heading.

Clearing his throat, he straightens his posture. “Sue,” he starts, his voice measured. “I think I wasn’t clear enough the last time we talked.”

Sue tilts her head, her smile faltering ever so slightly.

“I know what you’re trying to do here,” Chan continues, his tone gentle but firm. “And I really don’t want to lead you on.” He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m seeing someone right now. It’s… getting serious.”

For a moment, Sue doesn’t say anything. Then, her expression shifts, disappointment flickering in her eyes as she processes his words.

“Oh,” she murmurs, lowering her gaze. “I… I’m sorry, Chris. I didn’t mean to—”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Chan interrupts, his tone softening. “Really. I’m flattered, Sue. You have no idea. If anything, I feel like my teenage crush has finally come full circle.”

Sue blinks, her lips curling into a reluctant smile. “Teenage crush, huh?”

Chan chuckles, feeling the tension ease between them. “Yeah. I mean, come on, you were way out of my league back then. And still.”

Her laugh is genuine now, and she shakes her head. “I guess timing was never on our side.”

“Guess not,” Chan agrees, a warmth settling in his chest as they share a moment of mutual understanding.

As the laughter dies down, Sue rises from the sofa, smoothing her skirt. “Well, I should get going. Thanks for the uh... juice and the honesty, Chris.”

Chan stands, walking her to the door. “Take care, Sue.”

She gives him one last smile before stepping out into the hallway. As the door clicks shut behind her, Chan exhales deeply, feeling a strange mix of relief and gratitude. Timing really wasn’t on their side—and for once, he’s perfectly okay with that.

-

Chan’s knuckles rap softly against your door, the sound almost drowned out by the racing of his heart. He adjusts the hem of his hoodie nervously, rehearsing his apology in his head. When the door opens, your bright smile greets him, and all of his words evaporate on his tongue. Without a second thought, he steps inside, cups your face, and kisses you.

The kiss lingers, soft and apologetic, before he pulls back just enough to speak. “I’m sorry about last night,” he begins, his voice low and earnest. “I meant to pick you up, but something—”

Before he can finish, a figure emerges from your bathroom. Minho steps into the living room, his white t-shirt clinging to his chest, soaked through as though he’d just been caught in the rain.

Chan freezes, his words dying mid-sentence. Minho runs a hand through his damp hair, offering Chan a sly smile before addressing you. “Hey, the shower head’s fixed, but it might still leak a little. You’ll probably want to check it later.”

Your smile falters slightly as you glance between them. “Thanks, Minho. Let me grab you a towel.” You disappear down the hallway, leaving the two men alone.

Chan shifts uncomfortably, glaring at the floor while Minho leans casually against the wall.

“Rough night, huh?” Minho starts, his tone far too conversational. “Must’ve been, with your guest and all.”

Chan’s jaw tightens, his gaze snapping to Minho. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Minho shrugs, feigning innocence. “Oh, nothing. Just thought it was interesting helping your friend return your tie. You know, the one you left in her hotel room?”

Before Chan can respond, you return, handing Minho a towel. “Here,” you say with a warm smile. “Thanks again for helping with the shower.”

“No problem.” Minho takes the towel, winking at Chan. “I’ll leave you two to it.”

As the door closes behind Minho, Chan lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. His gaze moves to you as you sit down on the sofa, looking at him expectantly.

“Okay,” he says, standing in front of you. “I need to explain something.”

You nod, but your attention drifts almost immediately. Your eyes flicker downward, then linger a little too long.

“Are you listening?” Chan asks, noticing your distracted expression.

You blink and meet his eyes, caught off guard. “Yeah, of course,” you say, though your gaze quickly strays again.

Chan follows your line of sight and catches on, his cheeks flushing as he realizes where you’re looking. “Hey, my eyes are up here,” he teases, a nervous laugh escaping him. “Are you even listening to me?”

You finally snap out of it, sitting straighter. “I am,” you insist, though your shy smile betrays you. “It’s just…”

Chan raises an eyebrow, waiting.

You hesitate, then admit, “It’s hard to focus when you’re wearing those grey sweatpants.” Your cheeks heat as you gesture vaguely toward his lower half. “They’re… distracting.”

The flush on Chan’s face deepens, and he stumbles over his words. “What? These? They’re just—” He glances down, clearly self-conscious now. “I wasn’t—this wasn’t—”

You lean closer, your voice dropping to a seductive murmur. “I don’t have much time before work so…” You let the sentence hang, your lips curving into a teasing smile. “Can we talk about it in the shower?”

Chan’s breath hitches, his brain short-circuiting at your suggestion. The apology he had so carefully crafted is long forgotten as you take his hand, pulling him toward the bathroom.

-

The steamy mist envelops the bathroom as Chan steps in, his heart racing the moment his eyes land on you. Warm water cascades down your body, tracing paths he longs to follow with his hands and lips. He stands there, momentarily stunned, feeling like he’s witnessing something ethereal.

Unable to resist any longer, Chan moves closer, slipping his arms around your waist. The heat of your skin against his sends a shiver through him, and he presses a tender kiss to your shoulder, letting his lips linger on the beads of water glistening there. His mouth trails up to your neck, the salty-sweet taste of your skin driving him wild.

You turn in his arms, your hands resting firmly on his chest. The mischievous glint in your eyes makes his pulse quicken. Gently but insistently, you push him back until his back hits the cool tiles of the shower wall. Chan’s breath hitches as you lean into him, your wet body pinning him in place.

Your lips hover tantalizingly close to his, and he instinctively leans forward, only for you to pull back, teasing him with a sly smile.

“Patience,” you murmur, your voice low and sultry.

He groans softly, his hands finding purchase on your waist as you finally close the gap, kissing him deeply. Chan melts into the kiss, his arms pulling you impossibly closer, the warmth of the water surrounding you both like a cocoon.

You move your lips down to his neck as your hand glides down his front, not stopping until your hand meets his hardening member. He's helpless as you're kissing his sensitive spot and your hand wrapped around his length, and the warm water does nothing but contribute to the rise of the temperature.

As you slowly stroking his cock, you press your mouth to his ear. “Mmh... so big.”

Chan drops his mouth on your shoulder, drinking in the scent and beads of water on your skin. His hand snaking down your back, kneading on your ass cheek.

“Want to feel it getting bigger in mouth,” you whisper and with that, you put your knees down on the bathroom floor.

Your hand keeps stroking his cock while your eyes fixated on him, you tease its head by circling it with your thumb. You begin teasing his tip with kitten licks and you hold his cock slightly upward to land a lick along his length, earning a raw groan from him.

You slyly smile seeing him losing focus of you but you surprise him by cradling his balls in your hand while your mouth starts taking his length. You take and keep on taking his length until it fully disappeared into your mouth.

Chan lets out a deep growl as you close your lips around his length and sucking at it, your tongue feels hot around him, oh... he knows he's about to lose it soon.

While keeping the eye contact, your head bobbing as you pull away and take more of him, twirling your tongue around it, sucking him harder and using your hand to compensate the rest that you can’t take.

Next thing he knows, Chan is teetering on the edge, it's the way you're looking at him, your eagerness to please and just how good you are with your mouth. He tangles his hand in your damp hair, breathlessly he says, “I'm about to cum, baby.”

With your mouth full of him, you can exactly respond to him but ypu blink your eyes, signaling that you hear him. You slowly pull away, replacing your mouth with both hands now, continuing building the tension that's about to burst soon.

You tilt your head upward, watching him falling apart at the seams as you tirelessly pumping him with your hands. A smile tugging at your lips ad you wait for him to come undone before you.

“I'm coming, I'm coming,” he says with a rushed tone.

You close your eyes to brace yourself to receive his load on your face and you gasp as the first streak of his seed lands on your cheek and some more landing on your chin and around your mouth. When you think he's done, another one lands across your eyelid.

“Chris, not my eye!” you grumble with a playful laugh. You keep your eyes closed and freeze, unsure on what to do.

Chan pulls you up so he can help you with it, he collects some water from the shower and gently, he washes your eyes with it and eventually all over your face.

“There. Done,” he announces as he wipes the last of his cum on your chin and gives you a quick kiss on the lips.

You slowly open your eyes and smile at him. “That was fun,” you teasingly comment.

Chan shyly smiles and pulls you close. “I think that was hot.”

Your arms slide up to rest around his shoulders, and you look at him with a playful yet expectant expression. “Alright,” you say with a grin. “I’m ready to listen now.”

Chan blinks, momentarily disoriented, before the memory of why he came over resurfaces. “Right… Sue,” he begins, his voice slightly breathless. “She stopped by yesterday to return a tie I left behind. That’s all it was.”

You raise an eyebrow, tilting your head. “Uh-huh. And why’d you leave your tie at her place in the first place?”

“It was from a wedding I went to, remember?” he explains hurriedly, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your hips. “I didn’t even realize I left it. She just… used it as an excuse to show up.”

You can’t help but laugh softly, leaning your forehead against his. “Chris, you could’ve just told me that. No need to make it a big deal.”

He sighs, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “I know, I just didn’t want you to get the wrong idea. I’m not… like that anymore.”

You chuckle, your fingers brushing through his damp hair. “I know you’re not. But for the record, if you get into trouble again, you might want to hide your ties better.”

Chan laughs, his heart feeling lighter as he kisses you again, this time slower, savoring the moment. All his earlier worries melt away under the warmth of your touch and the water cascading around you both.

-

The soft hum of conversation fills the lobby as you step in, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. Your eyes scan the space and quickly land on Minho, standing by the mailboxes, sifting through a stack of letters. He looks effortlessly put together, dressed casually yet sharply, and you can’t help but smile as you approach him.

“Morning,” you say, catching his attention. He looks up, his lips curling into a small, knowing smirk.

“Morning. Shower still working?” he asks, setting the mail aside.

You nod, feeling a bit sheepish. “Yes, perfectly. Thank you for fixing it this morning. I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime,” he says with a wave of his hand, as if it were no big deal. Then his gaze flicks to your bag. “Heading to work?”

“Yeah,” you confirm with a small smile.

Minho tilts his head slightly, a spark of mischief lighting his eyes. “Want a ride?”

“Oh, no, I’m good,” you reply quickly, shaking your head. “It’s not that far, and I don’t want to trouble you—”

“Trouble me? Please,” he interrupts, his smirk widening. “It’s literally on my way. Just say yes.”

You hesitate for a moment, but Minho raises an eyebrow, clearly not taking no for an answer. “Come on,” he urges. “Unless you want to be late?”

With a soft laugh, you relent. “Okay, fine.”

The ride starts off light, the radio playing softly in the background as Minho drives. He’s casual, one hand on the wheel, the other draped over the gear shift. It’s comfortable, easy—until he glances over at you and breaks the silence.

“So,” he begins, his tone teasing but laced with curiosity. “You and Chris. What’s the deal?”

Caught off guard, you blink at him. “Uh… what do you mean?”

“I mean, are you guys… serious? Casual? Still figuring things out?” He spares you a quick glance before returning his focus to the road.

You shift in your seat, feeling a flicker of nervousness. “We’re still getting to know each other better,” you answer carefully. “It’s… new.”

Minho hums thoughtfully, and you can tell he’s not convinced. “You sound like you’re hesitating,” he observes, his voice soft but perceptive.

“I’m not hesitating,” you counter quickly, meeting his gaze briefly. “I’m just… being careful.”

“Careful,” Minho repeats, the word hanging in the air. Then his tone turns playful. “Is that because Chris has a bit of a, uh… reputation?”

You can’t help but laugh softly at his bluntness. “No, it’s not that,” you say, shaking your head. “It’s because… I like him. A lot. And I don’t want to ruin this—for either of us. Like I did with my last relationship.”

Minho’s teasing demeanor softens slightly, and he gives you a sidelong glance, a flicker of understanding in his expression. “Ah, I get it. You’re serious about this one.”

“I am,” you admit, your voice quieter now. “I just want to do things right.”

A beat of silence passes before Minho’s smirk returns, albeit gentler this time. “So, you’re saying I don’t have a chance?” he asks, feigning disappointment.

You laugh, the sound genuine and light. “Sorry, Minho. I’m very much taken at this point.”

He lets out a dramatic sigh, playfully smacking the steering wheel. “Chris is a lucky bastard,” he grumbles, though his tone is laced with good-natured envy.

You shake your head, still laughing softly. “He’s… something else,” you admit, warmth spreading through your chest at the thought of Chan.

Minho glances over at you again, his smirk softening into a smile. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re happy, neighbor.”

As Minho pulls up in front of your workplace, he shifts the car into park and turns to you, a teasing smirk already forming on his lips. “Well, here we are,” he says, gesturing grandly like a chauffeur.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say with a grateful smile, reaching for the door handle.

“Don’t mention it,” he replies. Then, just as you’re stepping out of the car, he adds with a mock-serious tone, “But don’t think I’m fixing your shower again.”

You freeze mid-step and turn back to him, laughing softly. “What? Why not?”

“Because next time, I’m charging you,” he quips, leaning back in his seat. “Or better yet, I’ll let Chris deal with it. He can pick up a wrench for once.”

You roll your eyes but can’t stop smiling. “Noted. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Minho grins, clearly pleased with himself. “Good. Now go have a nice day at work. And tell Chris he owes me for this ride, too.”

Shaking your head, you step out of the car, shutting the door behind you. “Thanks again, Minho,” you call out with a wave.

“Anytime,” he replies, winking. “But seriously—no more broken showers.”

You laugh, turning toward your workplace as Minho drives off, his playful words lingering in your mind and leaving you with a lighthearted smile for the rest of the morning. You can’t help but feel a little more certain of the path you’re on—with Chan, and maybe even with Minho as a good friend by your side.

-

The evening air feels warm and easy inside Chan’s apartment. You're perched on a stool next to his DJ setup, your fingers hovering uncertainly over the turntable as Chan stands close, guiding you through the basics. His voice is soft but enthusiastic as he explains how to cue up tracks, mix beats, and create seamless transitions.

“See? Just like this,” he says, demonstrating the movement with fluid precision. His hands brush against yours, and you feel the slight buzz of electricity from his touch.

You bite your lip, pretending to concentrate. “So, what happens when a girl comes into your DJ booth?” you ask teasingly, glancing up at him with a playful smirk.

Chan grins mischievously, his dimples deepening. Without missing a beat, he takes you gently by the waist, pulling you into the open space of his living room.

“This happens,” he replies, starting to sway with you to the beat of the music.

You laugh, a little awkward as you try to follow his lead. “You know I’m terrible at dancing, right?”

“There’s no such thing,” Chan counters, spinning you around playfully before demonstrating a goofy dance move, making you burst into laughter. “See? Now you’re better already.”

Shaking your head, you try to mimic his move, but it’s hopeless. He chuckles and takes your hands, pulling you closer until there’s barely any space between you. “Alright, let’s make it simple,” he says, lowering his voice. “Just follow me.”

Despite the upbeat track playing in the background, Chan slows his movements, leading you into a slow dance. The contrast feels silly and intimate all at once, and your heart beats faster as he gazes at you with a soft, unguarded look.

He leans in, his lips brushing yours, and you melt into the kiss. His hands tighten slightly on your waist, anchoring you as the world shrinks to just the two of you and the music in the background.

When you pull back, you tilt your head and narrow your eyes playfully. “Do you do this with every girl who comes into your booth?”

Chan smirks, his dimples making another appearance. “Absolutely not,” he says smoothly, his tone dripping with mock seriousness. “I’m very selective about who gets into my booth… especially who gets to touch my turntable.” He pauses, his grin turning cheeky. “And let’s be honest, no one handles my knobs like you do.”

Your jaw drops as you laugh at his lewd joke, swatting his arm. “Chris!”

He laughs along with you, catching your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “What? It’s true,” he says with a wink, pulling you back into his arms for another dance, the music now forgotten as the two of you move to your own rhythm.

The music hums softly in the background as Chan’s lips move with yours, his hands firmly holding your waist as the two of you sink into the plush sofa. The warmth of his body against yours, combined with the way he kisses you—urgent yet tender—sends shivers down your spine.

Chan’s fingers trace slow, teasing patterns along your sides as the kiss deepens, pulling you closer. His breath hitches as your hands tangle in his hair, tugging slightly, eliciting a low groan from him.

Then comes the knocking.

Chan stiffens slightly but doesn’t stop, his lips still lingering on yours. When the knocking persists, you reluctantly pull back, breathless. “Chris,” you murmur, your lips still brushing his. “Someone’s at the door.”

He groans audibly, his forehead dropping against yours. “Ignore it,” he mutters, his voice heavy with frustration.

The knocking grows more insistent, and you nudge him lightly. “You can’t just ignore it forever.”

With a resigned sigh, Chan pulls himself up, running a hand through his messy hair as he trudges to the door. He swings it open, already prepared to send whoever it is away, but freezes when he sees Minho leaning casually against the doorframe.

“Chris,” Minho greets with a smirk, his tone infuriatingly casual. “Nice party you’re having. Could hear it from my place.”

Chan narrows his eyes and lets out a sigh. “What do you want now, Minho?”

Before Minho can reply, you appear behind Chan, peeking over his shoulder. “Minho,” you say with a smile. “What brings you here?”

Minho straightens up and gives you a polite nod before turning back to Chan. “I actually need a favor,” he starts, leaning just a little too casually against the doorframe. “There’s this heavy piece of furniture I need to move from my old apartment, and I figured Chan here could help me out. It’s too much to handle on my own.”

Chan’s jaw clenches, clearly unimpressed by the request. Deep down, he’s looking for an excuse to say no, but when you glance up at him with an encouraging smile, he knows he’s already lost.

“That’s so nice of you to ask Chris,” you say warmly. “He’s always so helpful.”

Chan exhales sharply, knowing he can’t refuse in front of you. “Fine,” he mutters, his tone begrudging. “When do you need help?”

“Tonight,” Minho replies, his grin sly and victorious. “I’ll swing by to pick you up in... 15 minutes?”

“Okay,” Chan replies just so the conversation ends quickly.

“Thanks, man.” Minho gives Chan a quick pat on the shoulder before sauntering off, clearly pleased with himself.

Chan closes the door a little harder than necessary, turning to you with a pout. “You know I didn’t actually want to do that, right?”

You laugh softly and loop your arms around his neck. “I know,” you tease. “But I like having a boyfriend who’s nice and kind. It’s very attractive.”

Chan pouts deeper, narrowing his eyes. “I don’t like him.”

You nudge him playfully. “Come on, Chris. We didn’t like each other at first either, remember?”

He crosses his arms, his pout unrelenting. “This is different. I’ll never, ever be in love with Minho.”

Laughing, you pull him into a hug, resting your head against his chest. “Good,” you murmur with a smirk. “One reformed fuckboy is enough. I don’t think I could handle another one.”

He softens under your touch, his arms coming around you as he mumbles, “I told you, I’m not that anymore.”

You lean back just enough to meet his eyes, a teasing smile on your lips. “Exactly. That’s why I’m keeping you.”

He grins despite himself, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your lips, his earlier frustration melting away entirely. He sighs as he pulls away, knowing he has to get ready.

“I'll go get changed.”

You playfully slap his butt as he walks towards his room. “Now, that’s my good boy!”

-

The car ride to Minho’s old apartment is tense. Chan sits in the passenger seat, arms crossed as Minho keeps throwing questions his way.

“So, you and her... it’s serious?” Minho asks, eyes flicking between the road and Chan, a sly grin playing on his lips.

Chan sighs, looking out the window. “How far are we from your apartment?”

Minho ignores the deflection, his grin widening. “You’re dodging the question. Come on, it’s me. You can tell me. Is she ‘the one,’ or is this just a phase?”

Chan keeps his gaze firmly outside, biting back his frustration. “Are we there yet?”

Minho laughs, clearly amused by Chan’s silence. “Touchy subject. Got it.”

When they finally arrive, Chan follows Minho up the stairs, carrying a dull sense of hope that this errand will be quick. Minho unlocks the door, and the sound of music and chatter spills out. The apartment is crowded, with people milling about and laughing loudly. Chan frowns.

“I thought we were here for a table,” he says, glancing at the scene unfolding before him.

“We are,” Minho says nonchalantly, stepping inside and greeting his friend.

Chan hesitates at the door before reluctantly following. Minho is already chatting away, and before long, a drink is being pressed into Chan’s hand.

“Relax,” Minho says, grinning as he sips his drink. “The table’s in the kitchen, but look at it—it’s holding up all the drinks. Can’t exactly take it now, can we?”

Chan’s eyes narrow as he spots the dining table in question, completely covered in bottles and snacks. He exhales sharply, already regretting agreeing to this. “So this is a party. Not a quick errand.”

Minho shrugs, his grin unrepentant. “Two birds, one stone. Come on, have a drink. Socialize a little. You used to be great at this.”

Slumping into a seat, Chan takes a reluctant sip from his drink, more out of necessity than enjoyment. He knows Minho well enough to realize there’s no rushing this.

As the evening drags on, Minho leans back in his chair, eyeing Chan with a mischievous glint. “You ever miss it?”

“Miss what?” Chan asks, his tone clipped.

“The lifestyle,” Minho says, spreading his arms. “No strings, no commitments. Just fun. You were the shit back then. Why’d you give it up?”

Chan takes another sip, avoiding the bait. He knows what Minho’s doing.

Minho smirks, leaning closer. “Me? I don’t get it. Settling down when you could have this.” He gestures around the room. “You’re still young. Still good-looking. You could have it all. Why lock yourself down?”

Chan keeps quiet, his grip tightening on his glass.

Moments later, a group of girls approaches their table, all bright smiles and curious eyes. Minho grins, clearly in his element, and introduces himself—and Chan.

“This is my boy Chris,” Minho says, slinging an arm over Chan’s shoulder. “He’s a legend. Used to be the life of every party.”

The girls giggle, their attention now focused on Chan, who shifts uncomfortably. Leaning in close, Minho whispers in Chan’s ear, his tone low and tempting. “You can have fun, you know. No one’s going to find out. I won’t tell her.”

Chan’s jaw tightens, the words cutting through him like a blade. He sets his glass down, staring at the table. This is what Minho wants—to see if he’ll crack, to see if he’ll slip back into old habits.

But Chan knows better. He’s not that person anymore. And he’s not about to prove Minho right.

-

The moment Chan leaves, you find yourself wandering around his apartment. Though you've been here countless times, something about being alone in his space feels different. It’s like you’re seeing it through fresh eyes—the meticulous way he keeps everything in order, the slight personal touches that reflect his personality.

You run your fingers along the edge of his desk, smiling at the neatly stacked papers and perfectly aligned pens. His living room is spotless, not a cushion out of place. Even his shoe rack catches your attention, with every pair arranged in perfect color coordination.

When you peek into his bathroom, you can’t help but chuckle softly. His toiletries are lined up like soldiers on parade, everything from his toothbrush to his cologne standing in perfect order. It’s so Chan—practical, disciplined, and oddly endearing.

As you wander further, you pass by the laundry room and pause. A small pile of clothes spills out of the dryer. Without thinking, you step inside, deciding to fold them for him.

You reach for the first item, a hoodie you’ve seen him wear so many times before. Lifting it to your nose, you inhale deeply. The scent of fabric softener mingles with the faint, familiar smell of Chan himself—clean, warm, and comforting. An unexpected ache blooms in your chest, a longing for him even though he was right here just hours ago.

Smiling to yourself, you finish folding the clothes and set them neatly on the counter. You glance at the clock, realizing it’s later than you thought, and decide to wait for him to come back. You make your way to his bedroom, lying down on the bed that smells just as much like him as the hoodie did. It doesn’t take long for sleep to claim you.

-

As the night drags on, Chan finally decides he’s had enough. He stands, leaving his half-finished drink on the table, and starts making his way toward the door. The noise and chatter fade into the background as his only focus is getting out of this suffocating situation.

“Leaving already?” Minho’s voice cuts through the din, and Chan turns to see him catching up, his grin still infuriatingly smug. “What’s the rush, man? We haven’t even moved the table yet.”

Chan sighs, his patience wearing thin. “I’m not wasting any more time here. You didn’t need me for this. You just wanted an excuse to drag me into your mess.”

Minho laughs, stepping in front of him to block his path. “You’re so obedient these days. Might as well put a leash around your neck and hand it over to her, huh?”

Chan’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t rise to the bait. “Move, Minho.”

Minho tilts his head, mock curiosity in his eyes. “What’s the rush? Afraid she’ll get mad at you for staying out too late? Or is it guilt because you know I’m right?”

Chan glares at him, but doesn’t respond. Instead, he pushes past, his hand already on the doorknob.

But Minho isn’t done. “You know, relationships like yours don’t last long,” he says, his tone deliberately casual. “Guys like you? You get bored. You might not want to admit it, but I know you, Chris. You’ll start to crave what you gave up. And her?”

Chan freezes, his grip tightening on the doorknob.

Minho takes a step closer, his voice dropping to a mockingly sympathetic tone. “She doesn’t even address the relationship, does she? Never flaunts it publicly. Almost like she’s already bored of you. But hey, maybe that’s a good thing. Makes it easier for you to go back to your old self.”

Chan exhales sharply, his knuckles white as he grips the doorknob. He turns his head slightly, just enough to meet Minho’s gaze. “I’m not the same as you, Minho.”

With that, he steps out, slamming the door behind him. The cool night air hits him, but it does little to cool the frustration simmering in his chest.

As he walks away, Minho’s words echo in his mind, planting seeds of doubt he desperately doesn’t want to acknowledge.

Is Minho right? Would you get bored of him? Would he?

Chan shakes his head, trying to dispel the thoughts, but they cling to him like shadows, following him all the way home.

-

The sound of the front door opening wakes you. Disoriented, you scramble out of bed, brushing your hands through your hair as you hurry to greet him.

Chan steps inside, his jacket slung over his arm and a weariness etched into his features. His eyes meet yours briefly, but there’s none of the usual warmth in them.

“Hey,” you say softly, approaching him. “You look exhausted. Was the furniture that heavy?”

He doesn’t respond, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto the back of the couch. His silence makes you hesitate, but you press on. “How was it? Did you—”

“Do you even think of me as your boyfriend?” he suddenly bursts out, his voice sharp and filled with frustration.

The question hits you like a punch to the gut, leaving you momentarily speechless. “What?”

Chan steps closer, his eyes searching yours, his tone a mixture of anger and vulnerability. “Do you? And if you do, why don’t you ever talk about us? Why don’t you ever want anyone to know? Do you want this relationship? Or are you already bored with me?”

You stare at him, completely thrown off by the intensity of his words. You’ve never seen him like this before—so raw, so unguarded. It’s clear something is bothering him deeply, but you can’t figure out what triggered it.

“Do you even want to be with me?”

“Chris…” you begin, but your voice trails off when you see the exhaustion in his eyes.

He sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair and turns his back to you, avoiding your eyes. “I’m not feeling well tonight.”

You take that as your cue to leave him alone. Nodding, you grab your things, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Goodnight,” you whisper before slipping out the door.

As you walk back to your apartment, your mind races. What happened tonight? Why was he so upset? You replay his words over and over, trying to piece together what might have caused such a drastic change in his mood. Something feels off, and you can’t shake the feeling that this isn’t just about tonight.

-

The next morning, you find yourself standing in front of Chan’s door, your knuckles poised mid-air. You’ve been replaying last night’s events over and over, trying to make sense of his sudden outburst.

You knock softly once, then twice. On the third knock, you pause, lowering your hand. Maybe he’s still sleeping. He probably needs the rest, you think to yourself, chewing on your bottom lip as you hesitate to disturb him further.

Just as you’re about to turn and leave, the door across the hall creaks open. Minho steps out, his ever-present smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Morning,” he greets casually, leaning against his doorframe as if he’s got all the time in the world.

You offer a polite smile and greet back. “Morning, Minho.”

Deciding not to linger outside Chan’s apartment, you turn and make your way toward the elevator. Minho follows, his footsteps echoing lightly in the hallway.

As you press the button to summon the elevator, you glance at him. “So, did you manage to get that furniture back to your place last night?”

Minho’s smirk widens slightly, and he shrugs nonchalantly. “Yeah, something like that.”

His vague answer doesn’t sit right with you, but you choose not to press further. Instead, you take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts before speaking again.

“Minho, can I be honest with you for a second?”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Sure.”

You turn to face him fully, meeting his gaze with calm determination. “I like you. I think you’re a great guy, and I really appreciate how friendly you’ve been. But I just want to make sure we’re clear about something.”

He tilts his head slightly, his smirk faltering just a little.

You continue, your voice steady. “I’m with Chris. We’re building something together, and he’s been working really hard on leaving his old habits behind. I know it’s not always easy for him, but he’s trying, and I want to support him in that.”

Minho’s expression doesn’t change much, but there’s a flicker of something—curiosity, maybe—behind his eyes.

“I’d really appreciate it,” you say, your tone firm but not unkind, “if you could stop… whatever it is you’re doing to him. I want us all to stay friendly neighbors, but I need you to respect that Chris and I are in this together.”

For a moment, Minho doesn’t say anything, his smirk fading into a neutral expression. Then he chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Fair enough.”

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. You step inside, glancing at him one last time.

“Thanks for understanding, Minho,” you say, offering a small smile.

As the doors close, you can’t help but wonder if your words got through to him. You don’t know what exactly happened last night, but you’re determined not to let anything—or anyone—get in the way of what you’re building with Chan.

-

Chan heard your knocks this morning. He was sitting on the sofa, debating whether to open the door. He wanted to. He even stood up, reaching for the handle, but then your voice carried through the door.

You were talking to Minho.

At first, he tensed, expecting some kind of casual banter, but what he heard instead made him freeze. You were telling Minho off. Not angrily, but in a calm, respectful way that had him smiling despite himself.

Chan leaned against the door, listening to every word, and for the first time in a while, he felt lighter.

Now, as the hours tick by, he waits for you to come home. His ears are tuned to every little sound in the hallway, and when he hears the chime of the elevator, his heart jumps. Without thinking, he scrambles to the peephole. There you are, stepping out of the elevator, looking just as calm and composed as you did this morning.

Chan feels a surge of emotions he can’t quite untangle. Guilt for the things he said last night. Gratitude for the way you stood up for him. Relief that you’re still here.

He retreats back to the sofa, sitting down heavily, running a hand through his hair. He doesn’t have a plan. Part of him wants to rush out and hug you, to thank you. Another part reminds him of the way he hurt you last night, and the words that might have planted doubts.

His thoughts spiral until a knock at the door snaps him back to the present. He’s on his feet in an instant, heart racing. When he opens the door and sees you standing there, smiling softly, it takes everything in him not to collapse into you.

“Hey,” you say gently. “Just want to check if you're feeling any better.”

Chan doesn’t respond with words. He steps forward, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a tight hug. His face buries in the crook of your neck, and he breathes you in, letting your presence soothe the storm inside him.

You don’t hesitate. Your arms circle his back, your hand rubbing slow, comforting circles. “Aw, poor baby,” you coo playfully, your voice warm and teasing.

Surprisingly, Chan doesn’t mind. He lets himself melt into your touch, holding you as if you’re the only thing anchoring him. Because right now, that’s exactly what you are.

-

The room is dimly lit, the warm glow of the bedside lamp casting soft shadows as Chan curls into you on the bed. His head rests against your neck, his arms securely wrapped around your waist as if you’re the only thing tethering him. He sighs softly, comforted by your fingers threading through his curls.

Every now and then, you press a gentle kiss to his head, and Chan feels his heart swell. Moments like these are rare, and he’s determined to soak up every second.

You take his hand, your fingers lightly tracing the rough calluses on his palm. “Where did these come from?” you ask, curiosity lacing your voice.

“Deadlifting,” he mumbles, his voice slightly muffled against your neck.

Your eyebrows lift in surprise. “And how much can you lift?”

“Three-fifty,” he answers casually.

You gasp, pulling back just enough to look at him. “Three-fifty? You can lift that much but crumble like a baby from a slight fever?”

Chan pouts, his lips jutting out adorably as he buries his face deeper into your neck. “That’s different,” he grumbles, voice tinged with mock indignation.

You laugh, the sound light and teasing. “Aw, is my big strong man pouting?” you coo, planting a soft kiss on his pout to make it disappear.

For a moment, everything feels lighthearted and easy, but Chan knows he can’t avoid the topic forever. He exhales deeply, adjusting slightly to look at you. “I need to talk about last night.”

Your fingers pause in his hair, and you pull back slightly to meet his gaze, your eyes filled with understanding. “Okay. I’m listening.”

Chan hesitates for a moment before speaking. “It wasn’t about Minho. Not really. I mean, he has a way of... getting under my skin, but that’s not why I blew up.” He takes a deep breath. “It’s me. My fears, my insecurities. I’ve spent so much time trying to change who I was—trying to be better for you—and sometimes I worry I’m not enough. Or that... you’ll realize I’m not worth it.”

You frown, your hand cupping his cheek. “Do you really think that?”

He nods reluctantly. “Last night, when I said all those things... I didn’t mean them. Not really. I was scared. Scared that maybe you don’t see this—us—the same way I do. And I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”

You soften, your thumb brushing against his cheek. “Thank you for telling me. And I’m sorry too—for anything I’ve done that made you feel like that. I want you to know that you are enough, Chris. More than enough.”

His chest feels lighter at your words, and he leans in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

You smile against his lips, wrapping your arms around him. “Always.”

As you settle back into the embrace, Chan feels himself relax completely. The warmth of your touch and the reassurance in your words lull him into a sense of peace. His breathing slows, and before he knows it, sleep starts to claim him, safe in the comfort of your love.

-

The sound of soft breathing fills the room as you glance over at Chan, still fast asleep. His features are peaceful, his chest rising and falling steadily. You carefully slide out from under his arm, pressing your knuckles gently to his neck to check his temperature. It's lower than before, a relief that makes you smile softly. Quietly, you adjust the blanket over him, tucking him in snugly before stepping out of the room.

Your mind races as you head to your apartment. Dinner time is approaching, and you remember Chan once mentioning his favorite comfort food. It’s been a while since you’ve cooked, but for him, you’re willing to try.

Gathering ingredients from your fridge, you return to his apartment, silently letting yourself in. The kitchen is as neat as always, but it doesn’t take long for it to be filled with the sounds of chopping, sizzling, and the occasional clatter of a utensil. You hum softly as you stir the curry, hoping it will turn out as close as possible to what he likes.

You’re so focused on your task that you don’t notice Chan until you feel his arms wrap around your waist from behind. His warmth and familiar scent surround you, and his voice, soft and a little groggy, breaks your concentration. “What you doing?”

You glance over your shoulder, smiling at him. “Making you curry. Thought you might want some comfort food.”

His eyebrows lift slightly in surprise, and a small smile tugs at his lips. “You remembered?”

“Of course,” you say, turning back to the stove. “But don’t thank me yet—it could be inedible.”

Chan leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, his arms still loosely around you. “I’m thanking you anyway,” he murmurs.

You try to act unfazed, brushing him off with a teasing smile, but the warmth in his voice makes your heart flutter.

When the curry is finally done, you serve it with some rice and set the plates on the table.

Chan takes a bite, his eyes widening slightly as he chews. He grins, shoveling in another mouthful before looking at you with exaggerated enthusiasm. “This is amazing! Like, Michelin-star worthy. No, better!”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re just saying that because I made it.”

“No, I mean it! This is comfort food and happiness in one bite,” he says, still grinning as he digs in.

Watching him eat so heartily makes you momentarily forget your own plate. He looks so genuinely happy that you can’t help but feel a warm glow in your chest.

“Do you like it?” you ask, though you already know the answer.

“Like it? I love it,” Chan replies, his voice bright and sincere.

As he finishes the last bite, you remember something important. “Oh, by the way, I have to go out of town for work tomorrow. I’ll be back Friday.”

Chan’s expression falls into a dramatic pout. “Who’s going to take care of me while you’re gone?”

You chuckle at his reaction. “Minho can,” you tease, watching as his pout deepens.

“I’ll starve,” he mutters, slumping in his seat.

You roll your eyes and lean closer, gently patting his cheek. “You’ll survive.”

As Chan finishes the last of his curry, he leans back in his chair, looking content and drowsy. His cheeks are slightly flushed, probably from the warmth of the food and the lingering effects of his fever. You watch him quietly, a smile tugging at your lips as he gives you one of his bright, boyish grins.

“What?” he asks, tilting his head.

“Nothing,” you reply softly, shaking your head. “Just glad you liked it.”

But it’s not nothing. Not really. As he leans forward, resting his chin in his hand and watching you with those warm, chocolate-brown eyes, something inside you feels steady, sure. This isn’t just a fleeting feeling, a passing infatuation. It’s deeper than that.

In Chan, you see someone who works tirelessly, who loves with everything he has, even when he’s afraid. Someone who has his flaws but owns up to them, who’s willing to grow and try harder. He’s not perfect, but he’s real. He’s kind, patient, and someone who makes you feel safe just by being near.

You reach out, placing your hand on top of his. “You know,” you say softly, your voice carrying a weight of sincerity, “I don’t think I’ve ever been this certain about anything before. About how I feel about someone.”

Chan blinks, caught off guard by your words, but the way his face softens tells you he understands. “Yeah?”

You nod, your thumb brushing over his knuckles. “You’re the person I want to be with, Chris.”

For a moment, he’s silent, his expression unreadable. Then, with a shy but radiant smile, he squeezes your hand. “I’m glad. Because… I feel the same.”

The moment feels still, like the world has quieted around the two of you. You lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, and when you pull back, the look in his eyes is one of pure affection.

“Now,” you say, breaking the quiet with a teasing grin, “finish your curry so I can clean up and start packing for tomorrow.”

Chan laughs, the sound light and happy, and as he dives back into his plate, you can’t help but think that, with him, you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

-

Chan wipes his forehead with the towel slung around his neck as he steps into his apartment, still catching his breath from his gym session. The familiar hum of quiet greets him, but his first thought isn’t about the silence—it’s about you.

Grabbing his phone off the counter, he unlocks it with quick swipes, scrolling through to see if there’s a text from you. Nothing. His brows furrow slightly as he opens the messaging app, his thumb hovering over the screen to type. Where are you? he begins, but the sound of a knock at the door stops him mid-sentence.

Setting his phone down, he walks over to the door and opens it, and there you are. Leaning against the doorframe, you look up at him, your eyes wide but glittering with a playful edge. His heart gives an involuntary thump against his ribcage.

“You didn’t text me you were here,” he says, trying to keep his tone casual, though his mind is already spinning at the way you’re looking at him.

You don’t answer right away. Instead, your gaze drops, roaming over him like you’re savoring every detail. He suddenly becomes hyperaware of himself—his black compression top clinging to his chest, the sheen of sweat on his pale skin, the way his grey sweatpants hang on his hips.

“Hey! Eyes are up here,” he teases lightly, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorframe, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

You blink, snapping yourself out of it with a slightly sheepish but unapologetic grin. “Right. Sorry.”

You straighten up, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “I just came by to remind you—it’s pajama party tonight. Be ready by 9.”

“Got it,” Chan replies with a nod, though he can’t help noticing the way your eyes still linger on him, making him feel like he’s under a spotlight.

You flash him a sly smile, leaning in close enough for him to catch a hint of your perfume. “I can’t wait for tonight,” you murmur, and before he can say anything else, your lips press against his in a slow, lingering kiss.

When you pull away, your eyes sparkle mischievously, and with one last glance—one that travels shamelessly from his head to his toes—you turn and start walking back to your apartment.

Chan leans against the doorframe, watching you go. You glance back just before closing your door, flashing him another teasing smile that makes his chest tighten and his pulse race.

He closes the door with a soft click, leaning his back against it as he exhales slowly. His pulse is still racing, and it has nothing to do with his post-workout adrenaline. The way you looked at him just now—the glint in your eyes, the sly smile, the lingering kiss—was enough to leave him completely disarmed.

He glances at the clock to check how much time he has until he has to go to your place. His lips tug upward in a small smile as he thinks about it. Pajama parties with you were always something to look forward to, a mix of playful banter, laughter, and quiet moments where the rest of the world seemed to fade away. But the way you'd just looked at him… He had a feeling tonight would be different.

“Cold shower,” he mutters to himself, already heading toward the bathroom. "Definitely need a cold shower."

Shaking his head, he pushes off the door and heads inside the bathroom. The memory of your lingering kiss makes his lips tingle, and he absentmindedly touches them as he grabs a towel.

“You’re really gonna be the death of me,” he mumbles to himself, stepping into the shower and letting the cold water wash over him. It doesn’t do much to cool the warmth that spreads across his chest, though.

As he dries off and changes into something comfortable, his mind drifts back to you—your smile, your voice, the way your eyes seemed to linger on him. He can't help but feel a mix of anticipation and nervousness. Tonight, he tells himself, will be another reminder of just how much you mean to him.

And honestly, he can’t wait.

-

Chan inhales deeply before knocking on your door, his nerves already getting the better of him. He tries to keep calm, shaking out his shoulders and muttering under his breath to steady himself. When the door finally clicks open, and he sees you standing there with that soft, welcoming smile, it’s like the air is stolen from his lungs.

“Hey,” you say gently, stepping aside to let him in.

“Hey,” he replies, his voice quieter than usual as he walks into your space.

The scene you’ve set hits him instantly. The lights are dim, candles flicker softly around the room, and the scent of something sweet and warm lingers in the air. You’ve transformed your sofa into a makeshift bed, complete with blankets and pillows, all perfectly angled toward the TV.

It’s obvious you’ve gone all out tonight, and that realization makes Chan’s pulse quicken. He knows where this could lead if he lets it, but he silently resolves not to give in so easily.

“Make yourself comfortable,” you tell him, already heading toward the kitchen.

He nods, sitting on the edge of the sofa and rubbing the back of his neck as he tries to steady his thoughts. You’re just here to watch a movie. Keep it together, Chan.

When you return, balancing a tray of snacks in your hands, Chan smiles at the sight of you—until you set the tray down and shrug off your silk robe.

His throat goes dry.

You’re wearing a silk slip dress that clings to your figure in all the right ways, but what nearly makes him lose composure is the white stockings you’ve paired with it. He swallows hard, suddenly hyperaware of how close you’re standing.

You sit next to him, curling your legs up on the sofa as you flash him a teasing smile. “Ready?”

“Y-Yeah,” he stammers, clearing his throat as he fixes his attention on the TV.

The movie starts, and Chan leans back slightly, trying to focus on the screen. But then you shift closer, snuggling into his side, your warmth seeping through his clothes.

“So, how was your day?” you ask casually, your fingers grazing his arm.

“Good,” he manages, his voice steady despite the way his heart is hammering. “Spent most of it at the gym.”

“Is that why you're so tense?” you murmur, your hands sliding to his shoulders. Before he can respond, you’re massaging the knots in his muscles with deliberate care.

Chan sucks in a breath, closing his eyes briefly as he mutters, “I–I'm fine.”

You hum softly, but from the corner of his eye, he notices you’re barely watching the movie. Your gaze is on him, studying him with an expression that’s both mischievous and affectionate.

“This is a good movie,” he says, desperate to break the tension.

“You’re a good movie,” you tease back, your tone light but laced with heat.

Before he can protest, your lips brush against his neck, slow and deliberate. Chan’s breath catches, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as his resolve wavers.

“Focus,” he whispers to himself, gripping the edge of the blanket tightly.

You don’t make it easy for him, planting more soft, heated kisses along his neck, your hands tracing slow patterns over his chest.

Somehow, by sheer willpower, Chan makes it to the end of the movie, though he has no idea what happened onscreen. His thoughts were too consumed with resisting the endless temptations you threw his way.

As the credits roll on the movie, Chan exhales a long breath, his muscles tense from an evening spent in quiet restraint. He feels like he’s been holding his breath the entire time, caught between wanting to let himself relax and staying vigilant.

“I’ll be right back,” he murmurs, standing up and heading to the bathroom.

Once inside, Chan splashes cold water on his face, gripping the edge of the sink as he stares at his reflection. Get it together, he tells himself. You’ve made it this far.

He dries his face, takes a steadying breath, and steps back into the living room. The sight waiting for him freezes him in place.

You’re lying on your side, one arm propping your head up, the hem of your silk slip dress riding high up your thigh. His eyes trail down, catching a glimpse of the garter encircling your leg—a detail so provocative it sends his resolve teetering on the edge.

Chan swallows hard, forcing his face to remain impassive as he approaches the sofa. “So,” he says casually, his voice steady despite the way his heart races, “what movie are we watching next?”

You smirk, your eyes sparkling with mischief. Instead of answering right away, you reach out, grabbing his wrist and pulling him down beside you. Chan lets himself be tugged into the space next to you, your warmth immediately invading his senses.

You lean in closer, your voice low and teasing as you finally reply, “What you’re watching next… is me.”

Chan freezes, his breath catching as your words sink in. For a split second, his mind goes blank, and then he feels the corner of his lips curve into a smile, his carefully constructed resolve cracking just slightly.

“That’s it! I give up,” he murmurs, his voice soft but filled with a mix of amusement and surrender. He takes you by the waist with force, sending the two of you collapsing onto the mattress.

-

A triumphant smile spreads across your face as Chan finally gives in, his whispered declaration of defeat filling the quiet air between you. Before you can say a word, his lips find yours, urgent yet tender, his hands gripping your waist as if anchoring himself to you. Though you're already straddling him, he pulls you closer, closing any remaining distance as if afraid of letting you slip away.

His lips wander to your neck, brushing soft, tickling kisses that make your shoulders twitch in delight. You can’t help but giggle, the sound light and airy in the warmth of the moment. When his head tilts up to meet your gaze, you gently cradle his face in your hands, his flushed cheeks warm beneath your palms.

“Chris,” you begin, voice steady yet filled with quiet conviction. “I’m ready. Let’s do this. You and me.”

Chan freezes, his expression unreadable for a heartbeat too long. The silence stretches thin, but then he pulls you into another kiss. This time, it’s different—deep, deliberate, and brimming with every emotion he can’t put into words. Your hand presses to his chest, and beneath your fingertips, you feel the frantic, erratic rhythm of his heart.

It gives you pause. You pull back slightly, just enough to study his face. His breathing is shallow now, his chest rising and falling unevenly. Concern prickles at the edges of your joy. “Are you okay?” you ask softly, brushing your fingers along his jaw.

“I’m fine,” he replies, but his voice is barely above a whisper, and it doesn’t convince you.

His heartbeat only quickens, thundering against your hand, and a flicker of panic crosses his eyes. “Chris,” you murmur, your worry rising. You start to slide off his lap, intending to get him some water or give him space, but his arms tighten around your waist.

“Don’t,” he whispers, his voice cracking slightly as he holds you close. His lips part, struggling to form the words. Finally, with a quiet, almost trembling breath, he confesses, “I love you.”

The raw vulnerability in his voice makes your chest tighten. The weight of his words lingers in the air, fragile and unguarded. Suddenly, everything makes sense—his uneven breathing, his racing heart. It wasn’t fear, but the overwhelming intensity of his feelings for you.

Relief floods through you, and you let out a soft sigh, cupping his face gently. “Gosh, you worried me,” you murmur, your thumbs brushing over his cheeks. Pressing your forehead to his, you let out a slow, steady breath, grounding both him and yourself in the moment.

Gathering your courage, you lean in and press a feather-light kiss to his lips. “I love you too, Chris. So much,” you whisper, your voice trembling with sincerity.

His eyes search yours, wide and hopeful, his emotions laid bare. As the tension melts from his body, he exhales deeply, a sound filled with relief and quiet joy. You stay like that, foreheads touching, your breaths mingling in the shared stillness.

Gradually, the wild rhythm of his heart begins to settle, syncing with the steady cadence of your own. In that moment, the world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you—connected, understood, and wholly in love.

-

Chan towers over you, his eyes dark with want as he works with practiced ease, removing each piece of clothing until there’s nothing left but the soft white stockings clinging to your legs. You feel the heat of his gaze, the weight of his admiration, and it sends a thrill coursing through you.

Your lips curl into a sly smile as you meet his eyes. “This isn’t fair,” you say, your voice low and teasing. “Take it off.”

He doesn’t argue. With a grin that makes your breath hitch, Chan reaches behind his neck and pulls his shirt over his head, revealing the chiseled perfection of his chest and abs. The sight steals the air from your lungs—it always does. No matter how many times you’ve seen him like this, it feels like the first, like you’re witnessing something sacred.

You sit up slowly, your gaze locked on the hard ridges of his torso. Your fingers lift almost instinctively, tracing the outline of his muscles, the way his body shifts and flexes beneath your touch. His skin is warm, smooth, and alive under your fingertips.

Leaning forward, you press your lips to his abs, soft at first, letting them linger for a moment before moving to the next spot. You taste the faint salt of his skin, the heat of him, and it makes your pulse quicken. His breath hitches as your kisses turn bolder, your tongue flicking out to trace along the defined lines.

A soft chuckle escapes your lips as you gently nip at his skin, your teeth grazing just enough to tease. The sound is playful, dripping with mischief, and you feel a rush of satisfaction when his body tenses in response.

You glance up, catching his gaze. His smile is tender yet filled with unmistakable desire, his dimples deepening in a way that makes your heart flutter. There’s something intoxicating about the way he looks at you, like you’re his entire world.

You let your lips trail lower, your fingers continuing their journey, savoring every second. Each kiss, each touch, is deliberate, a silent declaration of your adoration. You linger, taking your time, committing the feel of him, the taste of him, to memory.

And as you feel him relax under your touch, you can’t help but smile, knowing he’s completely and utterly yours in this moment.

You brace your hands against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palms. With a sudden surge of boldness, you push him down, catching him completely off guard. He falls back onto the bed with a soft grunt, his sly, mischievous grin spreading wider as he looks up at you.

You straddle him, your thighs framing his waist, and his gaze darkens with anticipation. There’s nothing between you now, and the heat radiating from his body only fuels your desire.

“I’ve been dreaming of this,” you confess, your voice low and dripping with intent. “Of riding your abs.”

His brows lift, and his dimples deepen as he lets out a low, amused chuckle. “Yeah?” His voice is a rich hum of approval, laced with arousal. “Then don’t let me stop you.”

He props his hands behind his head, his biceps flexing as he settles back to watch you. “Do whatever you want, baby,” he murmurs, his eyes locking onto yours. “I’m all yours.”

You feel a rush of exhilaration as you scoot forward, positioning yourself so that your core hovers above his perfectly sculpted abdomen. Slowly, deliberately, you lower yourself, your wetness meeting the firm ridges of his abs. His body tenses beneath you, muscles hardening, and you gasp softly as the sensation sends a jolt of pleasure through you.

Chan flexes beneath you intentionally, giving you exactly what you need, and the friction only heightens the thrill coursing through your veins. You begin to roll your hips, dragging yourself along the hard contours of his body, painting him with your essence.

Your head tilts back as a moan slips from your lips, the sensation unlike anything you’ve felt before. His hands remain where they are, but his eyes follow your every movement, dark and heated, his mouth slightly parted as if he can feel every wave of pleasure you’re experiencing.

“Look at you, baby. So perfect,” he murmurs, his voice strained with desire.

The way he looks at you—like you’re the only thing in the world—makes your pulse race even faster. His chest rises and falls steadily beneath your palms, but there’s a tension in his body, a barely contained restraint that tells you he’s just as affected as you are.

You grind harder, your movements becoming more erratic as your pleasure builds, and the sound of your moans fills the room. Chan watches you with an intensity that makes your skin tingle, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk.

“That’s it,” he whispers, his tone low and reverent. “Take what you need, baby.”

And you do—letting go of everything else and losing yourself in the intoxicating rhythm of your body against his, feeling completely and utterly alive under his gaze.

-

Your body is a vision before him, a masterpiece of curves and softness that Chan could never tire of admiring. As you settle onto your hands and knees, the arch of your back catches his breath in his throat, the way it flows so naturally into the curve of your hips. He's already buried deep inside you, but the way your body welcomes him only fuels his desire to savor every single moment.

His hand glides down your spine, his touch reverent as though he's committing every dip and line to memory. The softness of your skin makes him whimper—a sound he doesn’t try to hide—his fingers trailing upward until they reach the nape of your neck. Without hesitation, he tangles his hand into your hair, gently tugging to tilt your head to the side, baring the column of your neck for his lips.

He dips down, pressing hot kisses along the sensitive skin, each one deliberate and full of hunger. The way you shiver under him only spurs him on, and he tightens his grip, tugging your head back further. Your lips part slightly, just enough for him to claim them in a rough, demanding kiss, the kind that leaves no room for doubt about who you belong to in this moment.

Without warning, Chan begins to move, his hips setting a steady rhythm that has you gasping into his mouth. The way your body reacts to him, the way you’re already melting under his touch, sends a rush of satisfaction through him. He grins against your lips, knowing he’s in complete control, playing with the balance of gentle and rough in a way that keeps you guessing.

“God,” he groans, his voice deep and strained. “You’re so perfect like this. Do you know what you do to me?”

Your moans grow louder, and Chan feels your body start to tremble. He knows you’re close, and it only drives him to push you further. His lips trail back to your ear, his breath hot against your skin as he murmurs, “Bite the pillow, baby. I’m not holding back anymore.”

With that, he releases your hair, letting your head fall forward onto the pillow. He watches as you follow his command, sinking your teeth into the fabric while your hands clutch the sheets. The sight sends a fresh wave of arousal through him, and he plants both hands firmly on your hips.

Then he lets loose. His thrusts become harder, faster, each one drawing a sharp cry from your lips muffled by the pillow. His grip on your hips tightens, fingers digging into your flesh as he drives into you with relentless intensity. Sweat beads on his forehead and runs down his chest, but he doesn’t slow down—not until he feels you clench around him, your body trembling violently as your release washes over you.

“That's it,” he growls, his own pleasure building to its peak. “Let go for me. Come for me, baby.”

The way you pulse around him is almost too much to bear, but he keeps going, determined to give you everything before letting himself fall over the edge. And when he finally does, it’s with a guttural groan, his body shuddering as he pours himself into you completely, lost in the overwhelming sensation of having you in every possible way.

Chan watches as your body shudders beneath him, the aftershocks of your climax slowly ebbing away. He gives you a moment to recover, his hands gently tracing soothing patterns over your hips and lower back. Carefully, he pulls out of you and rolls you onto your back, his movements tender as though handling the most precious thing in the world.

His eyes search your face, concerned yet soft. “Are you okay?” he murmurs, brushing a stray strand of hair from your damp forehead.

You meet his gaze with a weak but contented smile, nodding. “I’m okay.”

Chan leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then to your cheek, and finally to your lips. “Good,” he whispers, his voice filled with a mix of relief and affection.

He gives you another moment, letting you bask in the afterglow. His lips pepper soft kisses along your collarbone and shoulders, his fingers trailing lightly over your skin, grounding you in the tenderness of the moment. You let out a small, blissful sigh, and he can’t help the smile tugging at his lips.

When you start shifting under him, signaling that you're ready, Chan positions himself between your legs again. He kisses you deeply, his lips molding to yours as if trying to convey everything he feels but can’t say. Then, he enters you once more, this time with infinite care, his movements slow and deliberate.

His thrusts are unhurried, every roll of his hips designed to make you feel cherished. His lips barely leave yours, his kisses deep and consuming. When he pulls back to breathe, he whispers sweet nothings against your lips, his voice a soothing melody.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his gaze locked with yours. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

Your hands find each other amidst the tangle of sheets, fingers lacing together as you share this quiet intimacy. Chan feels something new, something deeper—a connection that goes beyond the physical. For the first time, he feels like he’s truly becoming one with you, not just in body but in soul.

The sheen of sweat on your skin doesn’t matter. The messy sheets don’t matter. All that exists in this moment is you and him, moving together in perfect harmony.

When the two of you finally reach your peak, it’s as if time slows, the world narrowing to the shared rhythm of your breaths and the racing of your hearts. He presses his forehead to yours, groaning your name as you both shatter together, your bodies trembling in unison.

After a long moment, Chan shifts slightly to look at you, his expression soft and full of adoration. “How you doing?”

You let out a tired laugh, your voice teasing. “Remind me to send a thank-you note to your personal trainer.”

Chan blinks, then bursts out laughing, his chest shaking as he collapses beside you. “Oh, gosh,” he says between his shy laughs, pulling you into his arms.

You nestle against him, a playful grin tugging at your lips as you add. “That if my hand can ever grip a pen again.”

Chan shakes his head, still laughing as he presses a kiss to your temple. “I think I’ll keep that note for myself,” he murmurs. “After all, I’m the one who gets to make you feel this good.”

You hum in agreement, your smile softening as you drift into the comfort of his embrace. And as the two of you lie there, tangled together, Chan feels a deep sense of contentment, knowing this moment is one he’ll carry with him forever.

-

The movie is long forgotten, a faint hum in the background as Chan lies sprawled on top of you, his body perfectly molded to yours on the makeshift sofa bed. His head rests just above your chest, the steady rhythm of your heartbeat grounding him. Your fingers weave through his curls, gentle and soothing, while he trails soft kisses across your chest, his lips brushing against your skin like whispered confessions.

He’s elated—completely and utterly elated. The words you said to him, “I love you too,” keep replaying in his mind, wrapping around his heart and filling him with a joy he can hardly contain.

He lifts his head slightly to look at your face, illuminated softly by the glow of the room. You’re so beautiful, so perfect, and it feels like this moment is too good to be true. His chest tightens with emotion, and for a fleeting second, he wonders if he needs to pinch himself to make sure he’s not dreaming.

“What are you thinking, mmh?” you ask, your voice soft and teasing as your fingers trace his temple.

Chan hesitates for just a moment before answering, his voice low and earnest. “I’ve been thinking about the future. About you being in it. And how… happy that makes me. For the first time, I can’t wait to live that future with you.”

Your lips curve into a playful smile. “Oh yeah? What kind of future are we talking about?”

His cheeks flush slightly, but the words come naturally. “A house. A family. Seven kids. And a dog, of course.”

Your eyes widen, and you gasp in mock horror. “Seven kids? Are you serious? You’d better find another girlfriend if you want seven kids because I’m not doing that.”

He grumbles, a mix of amusement and protest, and buries his head into your neck. The scent of you, the warmth of your skin—it’s all so grounding.

“Too late! You can't back out now,” he mumbles against your collarbone as he possessively holds you. “This fuckboy is yours.”

Your laughter vibrates through him as you wrap your arms tighter around him, holding him close. You press a soft kiss to his forehead, and he feels himself melting further into your embrace.

Chan closes his eyes, sinking deeper into your warmth. For the first time in his life, he feels like he’s standing at the beginning of his happy ending—and he’s never felt so sure about anything.

-

As Chan watches you sitting at the vanity, carefully applying your makeup, he still can’t believe this is his life now. This is his morning—seeing your face illuminated by soft daylight, your focused expression softening whenever you notice him watching. It feels surreal, like the culmination of every quiet dream he’s ever dared to have.

You catch his gaze in the mirror and smile, and Chan’s heart squeezes. He walks over, placing a cup of coffee on the table in front of you, and leans down to kiss the top of your head.

“Thanks, baby,” you say, turning to press a quick peck on his lips before going back to your routine.

As you finish getting ready, Chan busies himself, making sure your bag is packed and you’ve got everything you need for the day. When it’s time to leave, he walks with you to the door.

At the elevator, you pull him into a kiss, your hands resting gently on his chest. He savors the moment, every second a reminder of how deeply he’s fallen for you. When you pull away, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his voice soft as he asks, “Want me to pick you up at the bus stop later?”

You shake your head, slipping a spare key into his hand. “Or you can wait at my place instead.”

Chan stares at the key in his palm, overwhelmed by what it means. It’s not just a key—it’s your trust, your willingness to let him into your life even more deeply. His chest tightens with gratitude and joy, and he leans in for another kiss, slow and lingering, pouring all of his emotions into it.

The sound of a door opening down the hall interrupts the moment. Chan pulls back, turning his head, bracing himself for one of Minho’s sarcastic remarks. But instead, Minho’s door swings open to reveal Sue stepping out.

Chan freezes as Sue says something to Minho, who smirks and leans down to kiss her. The shock must be written all over Chan’s face because Sue looks startled when she notices him.

Minho, on the other hand, is his usual unbothered self, raising a hand in a casual wave. “Morning!” he calls out with a sly grin.

Sue walks toward the elevator, her steps hesitant, and exchanges an awkward smile with Chan. “Hey, Chris.”

“Morning, Sue,” Chan replies with a smile.

“So... This must be the girl you’ve talked about,” she says, glancing at you.

Chan’s cheeks burn as he nods and glances at you. “Yeah. This is my girlfriend.”

You smile warmly, looking between Sue and Chan. “Oh, is this Sue? The one you had a crush on when you were a teenager?”

Chan groans, embarrassed, as Sue’s eyes widen before both you and Sue burst into laughter. Thankfully, the elevator comes and saves Chan from further embarrassment.

“Good taste, Chris,” Sue teases, giving him a wink before stepping into the elevator.

You press a quick kiss to Chan’s lips before joining Sue in the elevator. “See you later!” you call out as the doors close.

Chan stands there for a moment, the absurdity of it all sinking in. His first love meeting his current girlfriend—and laughing together, no less. Added with the fact that Sue is also hooking up with the neighbor he hates so much, Minho. He shakes his head, chuckling softly to himself as he walks back to your apartment, amazed at the twists life throws his way.

Back inside your apartment, Chan locks the door behind him, letting out a deep sigh as he leans against it. He turns the spare key over in his hand, still marveling at how much his life has changed.

The morning had been a whirlwind, but somehow, it left him feeling more grounded than ever. Watching you confidently interact with Sue—teasing him like it was the most natural thing in the world—only solidified his feelings. It struck him that while his first love had been a naive dream, you were his reality, and everything about it felt right.

He makes his way to the sofa, the scent of your perfume lingering faintly in the air. Sitting down, Chan stares out the window, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Life had a funny way of surprising him, weaving paths together in ways he couldn’t have imagined. And now, holding the key to your apartment, it feels like a metaphor for more than just trust—it’s an open door to the future you’re building together.

Chan leans back, running a hand through his curls. His phone buzzes on the table, and he picks it up to see a text from you.

“Miss me yet? ;)”

He shakes his head, grinning as he types back:

“Always.”

As he hits send, Chan realizes he’s not just happy—he’s completely at peace. For the first time, the unknown doesn’t scare him. He’s not caught up in what might have been or what could go wrong. Instead, he’s focused on what’s in front of him and what’s to come.

And he knows, without a doubt, that it’s you.

-

Support my writings by kindly reblog, comment or consider tipping me on my ko-fi!

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[strbymacaroon]

Silent Love: Master-List!

Master-List:

༝̩̩̥͙ ༓༝̩̩̥͙ ⊹ ૢ་༘࿐ Synopsis:

When moving out of your dorm and leaving your eccentric roommate goes to shit, you're offered by one of her friends to move in with him... for free! That is, if you don't mind living with two completely opposite college boys.

However, life isn't that easy, and there's a hot asshole around the corner to piss you off. Especially when he's always up late at night when you're studying, purposely trying to get on your nerves in the most perverse way possible.

You hate him.

Yet, the tables seem to turn when he comes knocking on your door asking for your help. For something in exchange, of course.

Under one agreement, that is.

CW: Alternate Universe - College/University, Shameless Smut, Thin Walls, Mildly Dubious Consent, Roommates Fluff and Crack, Slice of Life, Kinda Slow Burn, Oral Sex Vaginal Sex, Slight Age Difference, Degradation Fake/Pretend Relationship, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Enemies to Lovers, Spit Kink, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort.

.・-: ✧ :ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

༝̩̩̥͙ ༓༝̩̩̥͙ ⊹ Reader here on Ao3 ⊹༝̩̩̥͙ ༓༝̩̩̥͙

ૢ་༘࿐ Chapter One: 14k words.

.・゜-: ✧ :-︑︒⚬∙︓· : ̗̀ ➛ New Roommate(s)

“… “I can’t deal with your sobbing when I’m trying to go to bed because he broke your heart again.” It’s the reason you're moving out, actually. That's being mean, it isn’t the reason why you’re moving out. But, it definitely is one of them…”

ૢ་༘࿐ Chapter Two: 9k words.

.・゜-: ✧ :-︑︒⚬∙︓· : ̗̀ ➛ Sexual Tension

"...Maybe you imagined the whole thing, you were up really late and could’ve been sleep deprived. You can’t, right? That’s impossible, you’re not crazy. Besides, if you’re not imagining it, Yuuji had to have heard, right?..."

ૢ་༘࿐ Chapter Three: 11.7k words.

.・゜-: ✧ :-︑︒⚬∙︓· : ̗̀ ➛ Fake Dinner Date W/Feels

"...You yell at the door. It’s way to fucking early to be dealing with this shit, why couldn’t he bother you in the afternoon? You glance at the clock on your counter, the numbers ‘2:57 PM’ glaring back at you, oh shit. Okay, fine, maybe it is time to get up..."

ૢ་༘࿐ Chapter Four: 26.6k words.

.・゜-: ✧ :-︑︒⚬∙︓· : ̗̀ ➛ Project Week

"...You weren’t necessarily dreading this moment, but you aren’t looking forward to it. Things are just back to being silent between you two. Now, you have to follow him around like a lost puppy..."

ૢ་༘࿐ Chapter Five: 10k words.

.・゜-: ✧ :-︑︒⚬∙︓· : ̗̀ ➛ "Good Guy."

"...You feel your stomach drop. Sukuna presses his lips together, his eyes moving up and down your frame, before naturally looking at the women besides him. He can see your expression sour from the corner of his eye, and it makes his stomach turn uncomfortably..."

ૢ་༘࿐ Chapter Six: 27.1k words.

.・゜-: ✧ :-︑︒⚬∙︓· : ̗̀ ➛ Forgiveness?

"...Uruame nods, placing the things on the table. “Of course, I’m here for Sukuna.” They place the final item, and you quickly observe they’re the ingredients for cookies..."

ૢ་༘࿐ Chapter Seven: 34k words.

.・゜-: ✧ :-︑︒⚬∙︓· : ̗̀ ➛ A Lovely Night

"...“Shit! Sukuna why didn’t you—“ If possible, your stomach twists even harder. The space next to you is empty, void of any form of existing life other than a messy pillow. You feel your eyebrow twitch, before punching his pillow. That fucking lying ass son of a bi..."

ૢ་༘࿐ Chapter Eight:

.・゜-: ✧ :-︑︒⚬∙︓· : ̗̀ ➛ Epilogue...

[cultofdionysusnet]

Thrill of the Hunt - Masterlist

Art assembly by @anyamaris, contributed by all the staff

Introducing! The Fae Realms

The Fae Realms beauty is divided into three kingdoms: the gracious Day Court, Latha, with its long mountainous range, the curious Dusk Court, Ciaradh, containing valleys and cities, and finally, the dangerous Night Court, Oidhche, stretching into marshes and fields.

The inhabitants will never lie to you, simply spruce themselves up a bit, and please leave all iron belongings at home when visiting. The Fae Realms also can boast of time moving differently than in the mortal realm, so please leave us a five-star review on the added benefits of visiting our lovely lands. *

Enjoy our attractions such as The Wild Hunt!

Looking for an exhilarating and once-in-a-lifetime experience? The Fae Realms offer a thrilling adventure full of heart-pumping and blood-chilling moments. Race through a forest, a meadow, anywhere your heart desires as a Fae pursues you tirelessly. There is no end to the chase…unless you want to be caught**. Because here in the Fae Realms, we have a motto: we hope you never leave! Because you won't be able to.

Imprinting: written by @mint-yooxgi

The most important mark a Fae can bestow upon another is that of an imprint. Consisting of a simple bite mark, usually located in and/or around the neck area, the mark designates a special connection between the one who is bitten and the biter. These bonds can be either platonic or romantic, but always depend on an intense emotion from the giving Fae. Once bonded, the mark symbolizes to others that one or more bearing such markings should not be touched by other Fae, for they are under the ‘protection’ of the Fae that has done the marking. Once given, the mark cannot be undone unless another with much stronger emotions comes along to reclaim the mark bearer, and negates the original bond. As such, we have a variety of imprints, ranging from best friends, to former lovers, to even those who enjoy claiming what’s theirs! Hopefully you don’t get stuck with one of those ones…

Here's a list of our Sponsors!

Jan.1: @anyamaris (Once upon a Crimson Moon) Yeosang, Ateez Jan.2: @strawberryya (The Art of Seduction) Yunho, Ateez Jan.3: @biaswreckingfics (Merry Dancer) Beomgyu, Txt Jan.5: @flurrys-creativity (Enypnion) Changbin, Stray Kids/ Yeonjun, Txt Jan.6: @mint-yooxgi (Fight or Flight) Ateez, Mingi Jan.7: @wooyoungqueen (Until the Edge of Dawn) Stray Kids I.N/ Ateez, Wooyoung & @sanjoongie (Honey Lies and a Sweet Bite) Stray Kids, Hyunjin/ Ateez, San Jan.8: Anya (The Games We Play) Stray Kids Felix Jan.9: Nea (Too pure for heaven but fallen nonetheless) Txt, Taehyun Jan.10: @kpop-stories-21 (Better than Before) Txt, Soobin & (Stains of Crimson) Ateez, Jongho Later Dates: Flurry (Panacea) Stray Kids- Bang Chan, Jisung and Seungmin

*Any and all humans who cross into the fae realm are subject to torture, dismemberment, etc etc, we have something for everyone!

**The fae of this realm are not liable for any damages, emotional or otherwise once you cross over!

[merlinrarepairfest]

Title: sweet like honey AO3 username: kairennart (personaje) | @kairennart Rating: Mature Warnings: Choose Not To Use Warnings Medium/Word Count: Digital art Pairing/main characters: Lancelot/Arthur Pendragon Up to 10 tags: Shade Lancelot

Summary:

Lancelot's lips don't leave Arthur's as he slides his hand under the pillow and grabs the dagger. He sits up, feeling the way Arthur shifts underneath him, and with both hands drives the dagger to his King's chest.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60072397

[rsbigbang]

R/S Big Bang Fic & Art: This Way We Fall (M)

Title: This Way We Fall

Author: @heartofspells

Artist: @drunkdumbfucker

Beta Reader: @tracingpatternswrites

Summary:

All he'd wanted was some time. Just a bit of time to get his head back on straight. But time had turned into two dead friends, twelve months spent in Azkaban that had felt like years, and a head more damaged than when he'd started.

Blinded by distrust and grief, Sirius had turned his back on Remus, thinking it would cost him nothing while it had cost him everything. Now, five years later, drowning in his own fog of terrible days and worse actions, Sirius stands a small chance of gaining back some of what he's lost in the form of his godson once thought gone. The only thing that stands in his way is the man currently raising Harry; the man Sirius cast out of his life like broken shards of glass. Remus doesn't trust Sirius, but Sirius is determined to claw his way back and mend what once was broken by his own foolish hands.

read on ao3!

[daydreamingfoxglove]

Day Twenty-Five: Day & Night

@microficmay, words: 83, ship: drarry, rating: M

_ _ _ 

Day and night Harry could not get enough of him. Of the soles of his feet digging into Harry's spine. Of his lithe body, rocking in rhythm with Harry's own. Of his heaving breaths, hot against Harry's throat. 

Perhaps his favourite was Draco's lips, kissed raw, parted in ecstasy. Maybe it was his grey eyes, clouded over like the sky before lightning. Or his long hair, golden strands pooled past flushed shoulders. He couldn't decide, but, whatever it was, he couldn't get enough.

_ _ _

Previous parts on A03

[merthurglompfest]

Title: Instead of Roses By: @paceprompting Gift for: DarKymi / @rehaliahdrarys Rating: Mature Word Count: 14, 371 words Warning(s): Merlin gets a bit ill in the beginning, nothing serious, but otherwise No Archive Warnings Apply Creator Notes (Optional): If I could add and add to this prompt forever, I really think that I would. It was lots of fun to write and be a little extra! Thank you to DarKymi for such a creative prompt, and helping me write outside my comfort zone. ❤️❤️❤️

Summary: After Merlin mistakenly eats a poisonous flower, the only cure involves him losing control of his magic. The chaos that ensues leads Arthur to several conclusions: 1) he needs to legalize magic in Camelot, 2) he enjoys watching Merlin's magic more than he ever thought he would, and 3) he can't keep pushing down his feelings for his loyal sorcerer for much longer.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54663001

[winterknights]

FIC: All I Want For Yuletide Is You, You Idiot

Title: All I Want For Yuletide Is You, You Idiot Author/Artist: tansyuduri Pairing(s): Merlin/Arthur Prompt: N/A Word Count: 5,887 Rating: Mature Contains: Hypothermia, poison, A fade to black sex scene. Disclaimer: Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended. Notes: Beta: Beta Calamity-Talvi Schweet_Heart Summary After Arthur survives Camlann in an alternate version of Camelot, Merlin decides to court him by getting him the only gift he can think of for a King. Unfortunately, this leads him into life, endangering disaster. Will Arthur find him in time?

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61079278

[excelsiorfics]

Vengeance Drives For Uber

Date: April 20, 2019 Author: rokhal Rating: Mature Word Count/Status: 115,292, complete Dynamic: Robbie Reyes & Eli Morrow, Robbie Reyes & Gabe Reyes Characters: Robbie Reyes, Gabe Reyes, Eli Morrow Tags: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Emotional manipulation, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Angst, Family feels

Summary:

Last year, eighteen-year-old legal guardian Robbie Reyes made a deal with the ghost of the serial killer possessing his body: together they will unleash their rage on those who endanger Los Angeles, and when they find someone truly evil, truly deserving, they will kill them. Since he made the deal, they've maimed plenty, but killed no one, and the ghost is getting impatient. Robbie gets a side-job driving his Ghost Rider car for Uber. This goes about as well as one could hope: he doesn't attack any passengers, but he does stumble upon a murder victim. Robbie wants the killer to pay, for reasons he does not understand. Eli wants Robbie to finally fulfill his end of the deal and kill somebody, anybody. To avenge the innocent dead, Robbie is finally willing to cooperate. They work together to identify and hunt the killer. Meanwhile, Lisa takes Robbie to meet her parents, Robbie plans for his future, Ramón Cordova pays it forward, Guero Valdez adapts, the woman who got slipped a pink pill puts her apartment back together, a cop from New York comes out west hunting Ghost Riders, and Gabe understands more than Robbie knows.

[snamioneasks]

Fanfiction.net: 5 most popular WIPS - October 2025

Bound to Him by georgesgurl117 - M, currently 93 chapters  At the behest of Lord Voldemort, Severus Snape is forced to commit a deplorable act against one who should have been under his protection. Bound by Dark Magic, he and Hermione Granger must learn to trust one another and themselves as they work together to thwart the dark plots surrounding them.

Quantum Entanglement by CaspianAlexander - M, currently 50 chapters Voldemort won. The last of the war criminals Hermione Granger is about to face public execution. Except - it doesn’t work out that way. What would you do if you went back twenty years in time? With nothing to lose, Hermione creates a ruthless deception. She enters Slytherin as pureblood Hermione Black with one thing on her mind: Revenge. Unapologetic trope-abuse.

Let Me Protect You by BarelyAWriter - M, currently 24 chapters Dumbledore decides that Hermione will be instrumental in aiding the war effort at the start of her fourth year. Using her time-turner, she might find the time to make his plans work, but she will need guidance from her growing friendship with Snape. Disrupted by a marriage law in 1997, how will events unfold? A story with a slow-burn romance.

Utterly Barbaric by weatherwings - T, currently 77 chapters Experimental potions apprentice Hermione Jean Granger is running out of time, options and allies. Forced to make some of the most difficult decisions, only one certainty remains: She will never submit to the Ministry's insidious Marriage Law. Going on the run, Hermione is labelled a Ministry Malcontent and receives help from the most unexpected places.

Subtle Support by Angeltsuki - M, currently 99 chapters  Hermione has a life-debt to pay to Harry Potter and will do whatever she can to pay it back. Harry has no idea. She'll go through the fires of hell to repay him, and he won't even notice. It helps when a spy notices. An unlikely partnership is forged to fulfill their debts. Slow burn. HG/SS Contains: Slash, violence, angst, swearing, and love.

Parameters

Ordered by reviews.

Updated in the last two years (following the blog's definition of abandoned work).

Sins of the father by Emmaficready appears as 4th in this list, but since it appears on the AO3 list posted yesterday, I decided to skip it here aiming to showcase a diversity of authors.

-Lisianpeia

[mindthewitch]

New GO fic! From me!

Rating: M

Summary: Normally, Aziraphale wouldn’t give in to his basest curiosities, but this situation was one of a kind. He had the opportunity to observe Crowley without suspicion, since he and Jim would be in Aziraphale’s bookshop. He could hide, remain unseen, and Crowley would be none the wiser.

Aziraphale paused at the door for just a moment, thinking about his morality and the ethics of spying on Crowley speaking to his former boss, the boss that tried to eliminate him. But, he thought, I could understand how he’s feeling. He never talks about how he’s really feeling.

Neither do you, a little voice whispered. He told it to quiet itself as the angel followed Crowley swiftly up the stairs and made himself invisible to the pair.

He had reached the top of the stairs as he heard Crowley softly say, “Let there be light.”

Tags: no archive warnings, Fluff, angst, smut (eventually/minor), dancing, emotions, vulnerability, aziraphale ur gonna blind people with that smile

[lightsonparkave]

Check out the amazing fills for round 54 below!

If you missed out on participating, remember that you can always submit something for a round that already ended. You can find out more information about that in the guidelines.

You can see all of the prompts for Round 54 here. In addition to looking at this master list, you can search for works by rounds, creators, work types, ratings, and universes on this page and peruse the Lights on Park Ave AO3 collection.

Round 55 has now begun and will run until October 31. The theme is the undying, and all the prompts can be found here.

FIC

AU

"A Knight's Treasure" - Naivelittleprincess/@sunnysideprincess Anthon follows Steven to battle. But the knight is not too happy about the rescue. He would rather have his mate hidden and safe, at least until the birth of their first child.

"An Alternate Tale of a Fall" - felisnocturna When a strange, winged man falls into the sea off the coast of Thera, Stephanos doesn't hesitate to jump in after him. Little does he know that saving Antonis will change more than just his plans for the day.

MCU

"Darling, your grave is right next to mine" - Naivelittleprincess/@sunnysideprincess This time he isn't alone. This time, when the plane goes down, Tony is right there with him, his voice wavering even as he quips about the horrible makings of their coffin.

"Romcom Fantasies" - @starkparade Tony runs into Steve at the airport, and when the hotel Tony booked in Washington DC abruptly cancels his reservation, Steve offers him to stay the night at his place. It sounds like something straight out of Tony's romcom fantasies starring Steve, except Tony is convinced that Steve is in love with someone else.

[strbymacaroon]

❀ “That’s Jean’s Girl” ❀

❀ Toxic Jean Kirstein x Smart Petite Fem. Reader. ❀

❀ Sypnosis:

Jean. Kirstein.

Jesus Christ, who didn’t know his name? Everywhere you looked you were sure to find someone talking about. Looks, sex, attitude, money, anything you could think of was latched to that name. And, he lived up to his reputation perfectly.

A toxic, full of himself, man-whore. Someone who uses other people for his own gain.

And his next target? You.

A sweet, innocent, naive, freshman girl.

Right?

❀ Genre:

Attack on Titan, College AU.

❀ Content warning:

Dark content, manipulation/toxicity, previous relationships, slight voyeurism, degradation, sub, smut at the end, oral sex, revenge sex, non-penetrative sex, explicit video recording, dacryphilia, Scum-bag Jean, etc. (Not proof-read.)

❀ Word Count:

28.5K words.

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

Jean lifted his glasses to the bridge of his head, a few strands of hair framing his face as he pulled his best friend, Eren, to his side. “Let me tell you one thing.” He told him, smiling as some girls passing by. “Nothing is sweeter than a little virgin creaming on your dick for the first time.” 

Eren shoved his best friend away, “Ew.. I swear, we need to censor you.” He mumbled, taking a sip of his soda. “But, I guess that’s just how you are.” And, Eren wasn’t lying. 

Jean and Eren were popular at their campus. Hell, people in neighboring campuses knew about them. That’s just how it is. Cherry chasers, playboys– whatever people called man whores, because they would call them everything, but that. 

A painful double standard? Yes. Annie knows full well, but that’s how the world is. 

The two boys didn’t care. They were trying to enjoy their youth. So, shitty decisions and careless actions were their constant. Even if they were at the expense of other people, mostly girls they hooked up with. In short. They were someone people didn’t want to get tangled up with. 

Jean laughed, “Everyone knows it, and loves it.” He walked up, glancing at the menu. Jean always liked to change what coffee he drank before going to class. He always found it boring to stick to one thing. It got repetitive and bland, he always liked to experience new flavors. Especially the ones no one knew about, it was like his little secret. 

And, Jean was known for gatekeeping things. “Besides, some girls are into that.” Jean said, nodding to himself and choosing a flavor. Was it something new? He could’ve sworn he’s never seen it on the menu before.. “They wanna’ fix me or some shit.” He rolled his eyes, “You know how some bitches are.” 

Eren groaned, “Yeah, I know.” He said, pulling out his phone and clicking on his last messages. Trying to pick out a certain conversation he just had last night, but he couldn’t recall the girl’s number.. 2056 or 2065?.. I know it’s one of the two. 

He handed the phone to Jean, scrolling up slightly. “Just had one last night.” Jean grabbed his phone, reading the messages. 

“Damn, that’s kinda harsh.” He said, cringing at his best friend’s reply. ‘I didn’t ask you to.’ I mean, Eren did just meet the girl. 

“What? She said she wanted to be there for me for the rest of my life.” He made a face, “She didn’t even know my favorite color.” 

“She also said she’s available tonight at eight.” Jean said, handing the phone back to Eren. “And she’s got a pretty good guess on what your favorite color is.” He pointed at the picture she just sent Eren. A sexy lingerie photo, with his favorite color, emerald green.

“I told her about it last night.” He said, pushing his phone into his pocket. “I just didn’t feel like committing to someone I met a week ago.” Which was completely reasonable. 

“Wait, she was planning to be there for you, when you two barely met?” Eren shrugged, beforing nodding. “Wait a week ago? Is this that one girl from the party?” He snapped his fingers a few times, trying to think of her name. “Pieck was it..”

Jean smiled, “Yeah, you’re right. That was her name.”  Damn, how the hell did Jean know her name and Eren didn’t. He was slightly embarrassed, but didn’t know how to bring it up. Especially after the two of them slept together that night. 

Eren doesn’t really remember though, he was practically black out drunk when it happened. He just woke up to a piece of paper under his phone, along with a— ‘I’ll text your later’ note. He didn’t even know her name at the time. 

“Damn, must be nice.” Jean said with a laugh, “I’d give anything to make a girl that obsessed with me.” He was being sarcastic. 

Eren rolled his eyes, “Girls are that obsessed with you.” 

Jean laughed, “No, they’re not–” 

“Hey, uhm..” some girl giggled behind them, “You’re really cute, can I get your number or something?..” Jean turned over his shoulder, peering at the two girls behind him. One girl was slightly closer to him, the other a foot behind her. She was cute. Small. He liked that in girls, when they were shorter than him. Jean turned his head to Eren. And Eren gave him a look that could only be described as– ‘I told you so.’ 

Jean rolled his eyes, looking back at the girl. “Sure, yeah.” He pulled out his phone, handing it to the girl. “I’ll shoot you a text, yeah?” Something was telling Eren, Jean wasn’t going to ‘shoot her a text.’ He was just trying to be polite. When the two left, Jean turned back to him rolling his eyes. 

“What? I thought you wanted a girl to be obsessed with you.” Eren teased, “Give it a week and I think you’ll have a Pieck of your own.” 

Jean groaned, walking up to the counter after what felt like forever. “I fucking hate you.” 

Eren smiled, leaning on his shoulder briefly. “I love you too, horse–cock.”

“I thought it was horse–face?” Jean replied, noticing no one was tending to the cashier. Was this Starbucks really that packed? I mean, they did just wait thirty minutes to order so– maybe..

“It was.” Eren replied. “But, I feel after recent events— that name is more fitting.” 

Jean tapped his fingers on the counter, bringing his body over and looking at the people. “You know that wasn’t me in the video.” He said, turning over his shoulder. “Unless you’re dying to find out.” 

“Go fuck Floch if you’re that horny.” Eren laughed, “You know how hard he gets over you.” 

“Shit, I’m not getting in between what the two of you have.” Jean clicked his tongue. “If I remember correctly he did say he was a Yeagerist.” 

“He was high, and stupidly drunk.” Eren defended, leaning his back to the counter. “We all say stupid shit high and drunk. I don’t even know half the shit that’s going on when I’m drunk.” 

“Yeah, sure.” Jean dismissed. He totally wants to fuck Eren.

“I’m so sorry for the wait! We got backed up for a second.” Hands clasped together, showing sorrow. On your thumb, a white gold, purity ring. That’s always a good sign for Jean. Jean turned his attention to the small cashier, eyes beaming widely at him. His eyes went to the tag. 

‘Y/n ❤︎︎’

How cute, you drew a heart by your name. Right above it was ‘1st year: Student.’ And you were a student, a freshman at that. Even cuter. You pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, pushing your glasses to the bridge of your nose. Placing your finger on the screen of the computer. “You know how busy college coffee shops can get, everyone needs coffee in their system.” You giggled, giving him another smile. 

“I can already feel myself relapsing, I need it in my system.” Jean joked, smiling at you. Dimples denting into his slightly tan skin. 

You giggled, leaning closer. “You and me both, but I want a cake-pop.” You bit your lip, “I seriously love sweet things. It’s like— my favorite thing ever!” You paused, before awkwardly adding— “Along with the color pink.” 

Jean felt a chill go down his spine, he laughed it off, trying to ignore the thoughts traveling through his head. Not the one he was talking with. You were his type. “The ones from here?” 

“Yes!” You said, almost a little too loud for your liking. You pressed your lips together, your hand coming to your lips. “Yes, especially the ones from here.” You said, quieter than before. Giggling at yourself. 

Jean felt his heart flutter for a second. That was cute. 

You shook your head, pushing your glasses to the brim of your nose. “But, what can I get you?” You turned your head to the side, looking at something before looking back at him. Smiling cutely, adding a head tilt for good measure. Jean looked at Eren. Eren looked at Jean. Who were you? They’ve never seen you on campus. Which would kind of make sense, it was the beginning of the second semester, and you were a freshman. 

You were cute. Small and soft spoken, Jean wondered how soft spoken you would be crying over his cock. “Uhm,” Jean shook his head, trying to ignore his dick for a second. And his head. “Get me the cake batter frappuccino, venti.” 

You looked at him, blinking with wide eyes. Your lips pressed together slightly, wiggling slightly. Like you were suppressing a laugh. Before tapping on the screen. “Alright, Cake Batter Frappuccino.” You turned into your shoulder, a small huff of air leaving your lips. Almost like a small laugh. 

No, it was a small laugh. “What?” Jean asked, intrigued. Who were you? Cute, that’s for sure. He wanted you. 

“Just—“ you let out a small giggle, pressing your hand to your lips. “I’m so sorry— that’s just my favorite drink.” You told him, clearly lying— well, half lying. That wasn’t what you were laughing about. 

“Is it?” Jean could see that. You seemed like a person who likes sweet things. Candy, flowers, lollipops, cards, maybe even stuffed animals. 

“I’ve never tried it.” Jean said, sliding you his card. “Wanted to try something new.” He said, his dark eyes bouncing to your shiny ones. You nodded, checking the price. 

When your friend —and coworker— bumped into your shoulder, smiling at him. “So I’ve heard.” She replied to Jean, glancing at the computer screen. She pouted, “Goddammit.” You stuck your tongue out at her, whispering— “You owe me thirty and I’m leaving after this.” You pushed her away, grabbing his card and smiling. “It’s going to be eight, eightyseven.”

You glanced at him before putting the card into the machine. “Is that okay?” Your lip went in between your teeth, glossy and soft. Jesus.

Jean swallowed, biting his tongue. But, he couldn’t stop himself, “You don’t have to ask, just do what you want.” His hands went into his pockets. 

Your eyebrows came together, “Uhm, yes I do?” You swiped the card, “It’s kinda’ policy..” 

Eren snickered, turning it into a cough when Jean glared at him. “Sorry, yeah.” 

You handed him back his card, grabbing a cup and a sharpie. You lifted your head, about to ask his name. However, the two of them were walking away. Rude. 

You rushed after them, “Excuse me!” You said, catching the one with a man-bun attention. He elbowed his friend. 

Jean looked back at you, “I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name.” You said, pointing at the cup with the sharpie. Pink, it was a cute pink. 

Jean felt frozen, you didn’t know his name? Everyone knew who Jean was. Hell, people in neighboring colleges knew who Jean was. 

“Jean.” He said. He didn’t know why, but he hated that you didn’t know him. Everyone knew him, except you. He wanted you to know him. You were going to know him. Or, know him enough to let him get in your pants. Either two worked. Maybe, you were the new flavor he wanted to try. New and different, something no one knew anything about. And, Jean always gate-kept things. 

You smiled, writing down his name. Placing the cup on the counter and sliding it to your coworker. “I’m off.” You slid off the barista apron, starting to walk off when someone stopped you. 

“Y/n! Uhm! Could you—“ they stopped, going to the edge of the counter and waving for you. Making you smile and nod your head. Placing your hands against theirs and saying, “Yes?” 

The guy hesitated, before finally speaking. If Jean remembered correctly, his name was Porco. Pock is what his friends call him. Popular dude he was, knew a lot of people. But, nothing much compared to Jean. The only reason Jean knew about Porco was, because he asked his ‘girlfriend,’ Historia, out on a date. Jean didn’t do anything about it, just went out of his way to find out information about the guy. “Would you want me to walk you to class?” Porco said, his hand going to his neck and rubbing it nervously. “I think we have the same class together.”

You blinked a few times, before smiling at him kindly. Your skin heating up, fingers playing with your hair for a moment. “Mr. Ackerman?” 

Porco smiled, “Yeah, Mr. Ackerman.” Your voice was still so soft. Porco didn't know if you were being nice or flirty. He hoped it was the latter. “Let me go change and I’d love to walk with you.” You always loved making new friends. “Oh wait! Let me just give you my number!” You passed him a pre-written note, something you were going to give to someone else. Porco took it, and bashfully smiled at you. 

You gave him a final smile, a small pat on the hand and turned around. Your hair snugly held in a messy bun. You looked so— nerdy. Jean’s never been with a nerdy girl. An innocent, small, nerdy girl. Sounded like fun. Eren noticed his best friend's transfixed gaze. Smiling to himself he instantly played on the idea, “Did you find a new drink you wanna try?” 

Jean shook his head, “I think I did.” 

Eren gestured to the blonde boy, “Well, you better hurry up and grab it before someone else does.” Eren pulled out his phone, “I’m going to call a friend.” He took a final glance in your direction. 

Jean nodded, walking up to Pock and placing his hand on his shoulder. Porco turned to him, making the brunette friendly smile at him. It was a common thing to see with Jean, he was always smiling. “You know Y/n?” It was intimidating. 

Porco blinked a few times, shaking his head. “No, we just have a class together.” 

Jean faked a relieved sigh, “Oh, then nevermind them, it’s nothing.” He turned on his heel, about to return to Eren when Porco called for Jean. Making him give his best friend a knowing smile. It was just too easy sometimes. 

“Is there something.. wrong? With that?..” Porco had his arms crossed over his chest, slightly offended by Jean. 

Jean shook his head, “No, no. Nothings wrong,” he cooed, his smile staying put. “You just share a class with her, right?” His hands were in his pockets again. Playing with something inside. 

Porco’s eyes glanced at it, then answered. “Uhm, kinda.” 

“Good.” He said, turning back to Eren. Speaking to him over his shoulder, his smile was gone. “Because, that’s my girl you’re talking to.” Jean gripped the item in his pocket. “And, I fucking hate the idea of someone trying to get at her.” 

Eren looked at Porco, seeing him glance at him for help. Which wasn’t something Eren was going to give him. He didn’t like to deal with this side of Jean, it was toxic and annoying. 

“You know how it is.” You know how I can be. Was what Jean was really saying. 

Porco’s eyes widened, “Shit, my bad man. Didn’t know you two were a thing.” Jean pushed a strand of hair off Porco’s face. 

Jean didn’t correct him. I mean, soon enough it would be true. That’s how it always ended. Jean always got what he wanted. “Well, you know now.” He pushed him away, scowling lightly. “So, don’t do it again.” 

Porco thickly swallowed, glancing at Eren. He only glanced up and gave him an amused smile, Eren wasn’t going to help. 

Porco sighed, pushing his way out of the coffee shop. Jean’s eyes followed him, watching as he joined a group. Probably his friends, before they all walked away. Demanding for an explanation on what just happened. 

Jean watched with an amused smile as Porco pointed at Jean. Now, none of those guys were going to talk to you.

You walked out, hugging your friend and looking around. Trying to find the male who you were just speaking with. Where did he go?.. Before walking to where he was once standing, not too far from Jean. 

“He left.”

You turned to Jean, blinking at him confused. “But.. he’s the one who invited me to walk with him?..” You placed both hands behind your back, holding onto them. 

Jean shrugged, “Guys can be like that.” 

You giggled, “I guess so.” You played with the white gold, purity ring, on your thumb, trying to keep yourself occupied. “Are.. you like that?” You were playful, smiling at him kindly. 

“Why don’t you find out.” He played, taking a step in your direction. Glancing down at your feet, seeing that they weren’t pointed in his direction. Hm. 

You nibbled on your bottom lip, giving him a kind smile. Looking at him with your shiny eyes before looking away, “Well, if you see him, tell him I don’t have Mr. Ackerman’s class today, I just didn’t want to say no.” You had another job to work though. You twisted around, taking a step towards the exit. “Bye.” You kindly said. Finally, leaving the coffee shop with a soft ‘ding!’

“She seems interested.” Eren said, watching you walk away. You also peaked his interest, but not in the way Jean was interested. No. He probably was going to do some research on you. 

“She wasn’t.” 

Eren gave him a look, cutting off his thoughts. “You’re kidding?” He rolled his eyes, “I swear you’re so conceited sometimes.” 

“She wasn’t, her body wasn’t facing mine, when she smiled the corners of her eyes didn’t crinkle, and she kept the conversation short and away from opening it further.” He said, “She didn’t want to be talking to me, she was just being polite. Just like she was being polite with Porco.” 

“I doubt that.” 

Eren and Jean turned their heads to the barista, if Jean remembered correctly it was the one that hugged you. He walked up, giving her a smile. 

“Cake Batter Frappuccino?” She asked, “Is this what you always get?”

“No.” He took the cup from her hands, turning his back to her. “She was interested.” He told Eren, “Y/n, wasn’t.” He glanced at the name, smiling. Letting out an amused laugh. 

Eren tilted his head, “What?..” 

Jean twisted the cup to Eren, showing the name written. ‘Shawn :)’ “Yeah, she made it pretty obvious.” You knew who he was. You just wanted nothing to do with him. 

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

You pushed your glasses up the bridge of your nose, putting pen to paper. Glancing at the board, coping down the equation and trying to complete it on your own. You knew how to do this, just happen to make small mistakes costing you the answer. You hate how tedious math can be. But, you can’t deny how much this was your passion. Blowing a strand of hair out of your face, you rested your head on the table. If you did the problem right, the answer should be 2. Which was ridiculous for how long it took you to finish it. Which wasn’t odd, just something you always complained about. 

Your professor lifted their hand, glancing at the watch on his wrist. “We’ll wrap this up later,” he dismissed, “I don’t feel like teaching it anymore, enjoy your weekend.” He walked to his desk, throwing the expo marker. “Homework is what’s posted in my class.” 

You giggled, closing your notebook and placing your pencil on top of it. Reaching for your bag and shoving your stuff inside. Trying to leave the classroom as quickly as possible. You didn’t want to be late for your job. “Mr. Ackerman,” you said, walking to the front of the classroom. “I was wondering if I can get an extension on the essay due tomorrow?” 

Levi's eyebrows came together, “I gave you a week to complete that assignment, why do you need an extension?” He had his arms crossed over his chest, his head tilted to the side. 

“Well, I’ve had work everyday after this class til’ 10, and in the morning I work at the coffee shop until my first class.” You placed your hands behind your back, fiddling with your ring. 

“What time is your first class?” 

“Usually 12.” You were slightly embarrassed to ask this, you were always incredible at staying on top of your work. Just with the holidays coming up, and the end of the semester. Studying and work has started to become a blurred line. You wanted to get something nice for your family. “But, I promise you I’ll be able to get it done by next week, I’m going to get a long holiday break.” Almost two months. “Coffee shops aren't open when campus isn’t open and I’m friends with my manager.” You said. 

Levi sighed, “It’s fine.” He suppressed a smile, “Just forget about it, it’s nothing to worry about.” He walked to his desk, leaning against it. “It’s my Christmas present.” 

“I still want you to get me some AirPods, Professor Ackerman.” You responded, turning on your heel and walking away. 

“Don’t call me that,” he muttered, “It makes me feel old.” Tapping his foot on the ground. 

You giggled, “Levi, you are old.” You played, “And, I don’t think you want me to call you Tío at school.” You turned on your heel, walking backwards as you walked with him. “And, I think that would make you feel older.” 

He has known you since you were a child. You could hear him mutter, “Spoiled brat.” Aauhh, you loved Levi, and he loved you. 

You turned back around, only to embarrassingly bump into someone. You could feel your face burn. 

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.” You said, tilting your head up and looking at the person. You could feel the gears in your head turning, he looked familiar. 

“Y/n?” 

You told him your name? Oh, Shawn! The boy in front of you was Shawn. Or, mostly known as, the school's most infamous two faced boy, Jean. It had only been two weeks since you last saw him. 

“ Now, lets quickly–Pause  ▹ “

This was the last person you wanted to see. Why, you may ask? 

Because. 

Okay, not just because… it wasn’t as easy as pinpointing a specific reason. There were many reasons. But, to give you a few ideas!–

It was because you hated the way he treated women, his friends, and acted in public. It was extremely unattractive. Sure, people let him get away with it because he was conventionally attractive —which is debatable—, rich, and a star when it came to his sport. But, you didn’t care about any of that. 

Especially after the way he treated your best friend. Mikasa. 

Maybe, you can pinpoint your hatred, and where it started. 

Mikasa was a senior when you were a freshman. She would constantly say, you were her freshman. And, she absolutely adored you. You equally adored her. If that was possible. It probably wasn’t.

Mikasa bought you McDonald’s, took you shopping, drove you home, bought you Starbucks, and gave you money if you needed some. School lunches these days are expensive. She was like your big sister. The big sister you needed in your fucked up family and life. She really did help you with a lot of things. You seriously loved her. A part of you wondered late at night if you loved her too much. 

The plan was— Mikasa would apply to Trost State University. And, when it came time for you to go to college, you would also apply. 

You two were so excited! 

You wanted to meet her friends, but you only met a few of her close ones before she graduated. —Some of which you couldn’t remember— But, a bit before she left— you remember her distinctively telling you, “I met someone!” 

You wished you took a picture of her. You’ve never seen her that happy. You’ve never seen her love that hard. 

Maybe that was the problem. The only love she ever produced, was one stronger than the rays of the blistering sun. The two of you celebrated with —illegal— drinks for your age. It was sweet. She told you everything about him. And, let’s just say your expectations were high… “You don’t get Y/n, I’m obsessed.” Mikasa’s eyes widened, stuffing a fry into her mouth. Before grabbing a tater tot and adding it. 

“I feel like we got too many fries.” You said, grabbing a tater tot and popping into your mouth. Eating it quickly with your mouth open as it burned your mouth. Mikasa always made eating hot food so misleading, she made it look so normal. 

“I don’t think we got enough.” She ran her tongue over her pink lip. “No, but–I really think, this is the guy.” Her hands moved over the steering wheel, parking the car. 

“You said that about the last guy.” You groaned, giving her a look. Grabbed your ‘drink,’ and pressed the top against your lips. 

She pinched your cheek, “We made up, and I still do think he’s the one.” She sighed dreamily, “and he was amazing in bed.” 

You scrunched your nose in disgust, a chill going down your spine. “Ugh, I forgot you had sex.” You pressed your lips together, “It’s so gross.” You finally took a sip from your ‘drink.’ Okay, it was alcohol in a sippy cup. 

“Y/n, believe me. Once you find the one, you won’t hate it.” Mikasa said, looking at you for a second. “Unless.. you already found one.” 

You looked at her smiling, quickly putting the glass bottle down. “I have,” You placed your hand on her arm, “Mikasa, there’s—“ you faked a sniff, “there’s something I need to tell you..” 

She laughed, before grabbing your hand. “There’s something I need to tell you too, Y/n— I,” she closed her eyes, pretending to struggle. 

“Let’s just say it at the same time.” You muttered, getting closer to her face. Trying not to laugh. 

“I love you.” 

“I love Dilfs.” 

Mikasa’ jaw dropped. “Shit, me too but,” 

You snorted. “But— what?” 

“I totally misread the signals.” She said, leaning back into the driver's chair and getting another fry. “I thought we were having a moment.” 

You put your hand on her shoulder. “We were.” You took the fry from her. “But, not in a way you thought.” 

“Jesus.” She laughed. “I guess, I’ll just move onto my other hoe.” She smiled, “But, you were always my number one.” 

“Wait, you never told the guy's name.” You looked to the side thoughtfully, “Or, the guy before that..'' you felt your eyebrows mush together. “Wait, do these guys even go to our school?”

“Oh course they do, Y/n.” She rolled her eyes, “I loved Dilfs, but I don’t wanna date one.” She pressed her lips together and smiled, “Just yet..” 

You nodded, giving her a discrete thumbs up. 

“No, but his name is Jean.” She smiled, tilting her head back in her chair. “And, he’s the guy I’m going to marry.” And, you’ll never forget his name. Jean. 

It was always fresh in your head the next two years of highschool. “What’s he look like? Do I know him?” You muttered, twisting your body in the chair, and lifting your legs onto the seat. 

“No, unfortunately.” She murmured, “but, I do have a picture of him.” She reached for her pink phone, unlocking it and going to her camera roll. “He’s so cute!” 

You watched her squirm, smiling at her phone. Clicking on to something and flipping the screen to you. You could feel your smile slowly drop. “This is the guy you’re twisting your panties about?” You tilted your head, squinting your eyes. “He’s so—“ 

“Cute!” 

“Horse face.” 

“What.” 

You smiled, “He has a horse face.” You giggled, “Maybe he’s just not my type but, absolutely not.” 

She pouted, dropping her arm. “What?… I thought he was so cute..” 

“Mikasa, you thought Floch was cute.” You deadpanned. 

“I said, I didn’t think he was as ugly as people made it to be!” She almost shouted. 

You two giggled. “Well, if you're happy, that’s all that matters.” You smiled, “I just want you to be happy Mika, you deserve to be.” 

She smiled, bringing you into a hug. “Thanks, Y/n.” She pulled back, holding your hand. “What would I do without you?”

And, she was happy. Was. 

The moment the two of you parted, that’s when everything went downhill. It was probably the universe telling the two of you, you needed each other. And you did. You still do. 

She would still pick you up from school. Since your parents were never around to do it, and that’s when you would hear it. That’s when you would finally see your best friend— big sister, fall down in tears. 

Over what? A boy. Over Jean. 

You hated those days. Absolutely hated them. It was like you could feel her pain seeping into your heart. She would pick you up, and sob about what the boy she liked–loved did to her. The boy she loved. About how he cheated, lied, and ignored her. At some point, Mikasa wondered if Jean hated her. Mikasa was such a sweetheart, she thought she was doing something wrong. 

She was never in the wrong. And, that’s the Jean you know. The one who absolutely tore the heart of your big sister. The one who ruined her so much, she thought she was in the problem. 

The worst part was, every time she cried, it was always over something. One day– Fuck. 

One day, Mikasa claimed he wanted someone different. Jean wanted someone small, innocent, untouched, and cheerful. Something that—Jean claimed, Mikasa wasn’t. At least, not anymore. And, you saw it. The moment the gears in her head started turning as she looked at you. And, you had the same realization. 

Mikasa, just described you. And, that broke her. 

She no longer spoke to you after that. So, now that you were in college, you had to deal with seeing his ugly face. 

Where was she now? Unfortunately, she moved schools by the time you got accepted. But, the two of you stayed in contact. FaceTime every night, and some calls throughout the day. 

You two were still close. She managed to move on, but you could never forget the face and name of the man that broke her. Even if she forgave him. You wouldn’t. 

So, that one fateful day, you were working at the school Starbucks. You two were on call. The title, “Whore of Trost,” haunting your vision. A video the whole college knew about. “I can’t blame her for moving.” You whispered, “Poor girl, I can’t imagine what she must be going through.” You whimpered, existing out the video. You couldn't bear to watch anymore, you could feel yourself growing sick. You scrolled down looking at the comments. They didn’t help your condition. 

Mikasa mimicked your expression, turning away from her computer. “I can’t imagine, it’s a girl's worst nightmare.” She tilted her head, pressing her hand to her heart. “Have they caught who posted the video?” 

You shook your head, “They haven’t, I think the only thing that the school knows about is where it was shot.” The football locker room, “So, the whole football team is under surveillance.” You pressed your lips together, “But, I heard something about the baseball team getting revenge, or something.” 

“But, on a poor innocent girl?” Mikasa stressed, “I get the sports have their rivalry, but to bring an innocent girl into the mix is just fucked up. Keep it between the sports, not the students.” Mikasa scowled, she was very passionate about these things. “Was she dating one of the football players?” 

“No!” You stressed, “That’s what makes this so much more– frustrating. She was just an innocent bystander. In-fact, she didn’t even know she was being recorded.” What you don’t understand is why she hasn’t revealed who it was. 

Did the person have blackmail on her? Actually, was the video the blackmail?

“I hope she’s okay.” Mikasa’s voice cut you out of your thoughts. 

You nodded, “I hope so too.” 

“Are you on break?” Mikasa asked, trying to lighten the mood. 

“Yes, I’m on my break.” You replied. Pressing a strand of hair behind your ear. Trying to forget about the heavy feeling on your shoulders. 

“How many goddamn breaks do you get?!” She asked, trying to make you smile. “You called me like an hour ago.” 

“I was also break.” You opened the door, peering into the barista room. Seeing everyone make drinks and take orders. It looked packed today, maybe you should be out there..

Naw. 

“You must be abusing your break privileges.” 

You forced a giggle, leaning back and walking into the room. Recalling something that happened recently. With something you did abuse. Actually, it was something you constantly abused. “I abuse my pretty privilege.” 

“Again?!” Mikasa asked shocked, “Did you make another boy cry?” 

You sat down on the small chair in the break room, “Look, I thought I liked this guy, really did. But, the moment we started—“ you giggled, “You know, having sex— I realized, absolutely-fucking-not.” You sighed, “Gave him the best head and pussy in the game, then dipped.” He was fucking horrible in bed. You couldn’t express that enough. 

“No wonder he was heart-broken.” She cooed, “He got pussy-whipped.” 

“They all get pussy whipped.” You put her on speaker, lowering your phone and looking through your messages. “Look, I’ll send you some shit he’s been sending me. It’s so fuckin’ cringy.” 

“Jesus, Y/n, what the hell happened to you.” You could tell she was joking. “Ah, it feels like just yesterday we were in my car, you telling me about how gross sex was— and now look at you!” She cooed, “A full on man-eater, leaving a trace of heart-broken guys with such an innocent face.” 

“Man-eater?” You questioned, sending the picture to Mikasa. A long string of messages about how much he loved you, and wanted you in his life. Only to soon follow they by— ‘one more time, let’s fuck one more time, please. Then, I leave you alone.’ 

Ah, men begging was always so funny. 

“Jesus, is that an 8-ball game you sent him?” 

“Yeah, he’s really bad, so it helps me raise my stats.”

“Jesus..” 

“What’s a man-eater?” You questioned again, still wanting an answer. Reaching into your pocket and playing with the small jewelry inside. 

“Exactly what you are.” She laughed, “If you searched up the definition ‘man-eater’ your face would pop up.” You couldn’t help but laugh at that. “But honestly, they deserve it.” Clearly. After the video was spread, you couldn’t agree more. 

But, you felt your throat run dry. Your heart stopped. Well, fuck me. “Mika, you wouldn’t believe who’s in line right now.” 

You could hear her groan on the other line. “God, don’t tell me.” There was a slight pause, before the two of you spoke at the same time. 

“Jean.”

“Your mom.” 

You made a face, “I swear to god, when will you drop that ‘your mom’ thing?” You asked, almost annoyed. But, you couldn’t be annoyed at Mikasa. 

“Never, Y/n. Never.” She giggled. “But, ew. I completely forgot he loves coffee.” 

You could feel your eyes bulge out of your head. “And, you didn’t think of telling me that when I told you I was applying to a coffee shop?!” You almost shouted. 

She laughed again, “I forgot.” 

“Bull-fuckin-shit.” You joked. Searching up the definition. 

‘INFORMAL

a dominant woman who has many sexual partners.” 

I guess that’s not completely wrong. 

Besides, you’ve always wanted to see a big strong, alpha male. Tied to your bed, begging you to touch him while you record. 

But, you were saving that for a certain boy. Which, coincidentally, was waiting outside for coffee. 

“I mean, this isn’t wrong.” You said, leaning back in your chair and sighing. “But, you know, all my sexual partners are just people I used to pass time.” Or, to get revenge for other people. 

“Or, hurt for other people.” Mikasa added. She was always good at reading your mind. 

“Some girls want me to hurt them for revenge.” You shrugged, “Who am I to say no.” You always understood the pain of someone who did you wrong in a relationship, you literally watched your best friend go through it. And, you couldn’t do anything. 

Now, you can. 

You try making up for it by helping other girls your age. 

“If you get the chance, do it to Jean.” Mikasa said jokingly. But, you couldn’t help, but notice how her tone deepened. A part of her wasn’t joking. 

“If I can, I will Mika.” You told her, standing up and throwing your hair back. Walking towards the doors, about to go outside. 

“Okay, Y/n.” She cooed. 

You peered outside again, looking at him. “I’ll call you back.” You wanted to do what you always did. “Luca! Get over here!” You whispered, pulling the cashier to the side. She looked at the person, quickly finishing their order and walking to you, confused. 

“I’m in the middle of—“ 

“The shark is out of the pond!” You whisper shouted. Eyes wide as you grabbed her shoulders. “The shark is out of the pond.” 

She blinked, “Oh, shit.” She looked out the door, “Don’t tell me.” You didn’t have too. 

“Do something shitty to his drink,” you told her. You weren’t allowed to serve drinks, only work as a cashier. “I’ll take the order.” 

Her jaw dropped. “Girl, I love you, but I can’t lose my job.” She gestured to the cashier, “Just over charge him.”

That wasn’t enough. “That isn’t enough after all the shitty things he’s done to—“ you paused, feeling guilt crawl up your throat. You didn’t mean to tell Luca about Jean and Mikasa, you just were so overwhelmed—

Luca pressed her lips together, not wanting to say anything. 

“How about this, we bet on it.” You forced a smile at her, “if he orders one of my favorite drinks, you give me thirty, and do something to the drink.” You smiled, “If he orders one of your favorite drinks, I’ll give you thirty and cover one of your shifts.” 

“Deal.” 

You smiled, “Good, lemmie cover this order.” You pushed the doors open, four things in your head. 

Jean wanted someone small, innocent, untouched, and cheerful. 

Just like Mikasa had once heartbreakingly told you. 

You turned to Luca, “If I win, I want you to fucking shit in his drink.” You smiled at her sweetly, reaching into your pocket and pulling out the white gold, purity ring. Slipping it into your thumb. “Kay?” 

She shook her head, “Whatever you want.” 

You pushed the doors open, widening your eyes, and smiling sweetly. Going behind the counter, “I’m so sorry for the wait! We got backed up for a second.” Your hands were clasped together, trying to show your —fake— sorrow. 

Your purity ring shining under the coffee shop lights. 

“ Play  || “

Sure, you’ve seen him around. But, you always avoided him, walking away, pretending not to see him, and plain out ignoring him. You didn’t want to see him. 

“Y/n?” 

Now, you couldn’t exactly do that. 

You pressed your lips together, suppressing the scowl that was building on your face. “Oh, hey!” You said, cheerfully. Holding onto your backpack’s strap. 

“That’s right, you have Ackerman’s class.” Jean grabbed his glasses, lifting them to the crown of his head. Smiling sweetly, “How’s this going for you? Easy class?” 

He’s trying to make small talk, Y/n. Don’t slap the shit out of him. 

Yet. 

Your eyes widened, faking your emotions. “Easy!? This class kills me.” You laughed, “But, I do excel in the material.” You smiled. 

“Maybe, you could tutor him, Y/n.” Levi interjected, “He seriously needs it.” 

You almost broke your neck when you twisted your head. You glared at Levi, speaking to Jean with your back to him. “What do you have in this class?” 

“Not something good.” Jean nonchalantly replied. 

You sighed, turning back to him and smiling. Clasping your hands to your chest and smiling, “Well, I’d be more than happy to help!” You placed a foot behind the other, tilting your head. “And, it’ll be completely free.” 

Jean smiled, “That sounds lovely.” He leaned down, pulling his phone out of his pocket. Bringing it in your direction, “Here, give me your number, I’ll text you where my dorm is.” 

You knew he wanted you to grab his phone, but you didn’t. You quickly went to his side, looping your left arm around his right one, and putting in your number. Hands wrapped around his single one holding the phone. 

Showing off the massive size difference between you two. Jean thickly swallowed, his eyes drinking up the skin you were showing. 

“Okay, I’m actually free next week today—“

“That works.” He cut you off, his eyes still trained on your hands. Slowly sliding off his body. 

You giggled, “Okay then, I’ll meet you at my dorm.” You said, running your tongue over your bottom lip. You turned on your heel, “See ya.” Jean smiled, his head following you as you walked away.  

Once you passed Jean, you turned to face Levi— walking backwards as you flipped him off. You hated your Tío sometimes. 

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

You dramatically groaned, rolling your eyes the moment you hit the library. It had been too long since your last visit. And, after your Jean encounter close to a week ago, you needed it to be quiet while you studied. 

“Jesus, I don’t know how long I can keep this up.” You moaned. Leaning on the outside railing, you needed to sit down. You needed to be alone. 

Everyday was the same thing, Jean would go to your job, your class, and your dorm. Don’t ask me how he found out, because I don’t know. So, you had to put on your poker face, and smile at him every time he walked you around the campus. 

It almost felt like he was a puppy. 

He probably was purposefully acting like a puppy. Trying to get on your good side, or something like that. 

It’s so annoying. 

When you felt someone tug your hair. “You bitch!” 

You turned, grabbed her hand and scowling at her. “What the fuck!” Who the hell was this— “Historia?” You questioned, confused on why the hell she yanked your hair. I mean, Jesus, that hasn’t happened since highschool. 

Historia was the school ‘it’ girl. Someone who had boys wrapped around her manicured finger. You two shared some random math class together. You always noticed how often someone was asking for her number. However, she always declined. 

Why? She was dead set on one guy. 

Take a wild guess who it is. 

“You’re such a two faced, ugly, bitch!” She said, tears pearling in your eyes. “I fucking trusted you, and this is what you do?! Stab me in the back?” You shoved her off you. 

“Historia, what the fuck are you talking about?!” You asserted, taking a step back and looking around. Now, there’s people looking at us. “Cause, I haven’t done shit.” You tried lowering your voice. 

“Jean!” She shouted back. 

You could feel that name echo through your head. 

Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. 

Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean. Jean..

Fucking. Jean. 

Why did he have to influence everything in your life? Most importantly, why didn’t it have to be you? You don’t even know what’s going on.

You mushed your eyebrows together, sighing. “Historia, I still have no clue what you’re talking about.” You said calmly, trying to de-escalate the situation. 

Maybe if you—

You pulled up your phone, opening your messages. “The only reason I have Jean’s phone number is because I tutor him.” And, you just got that yesterday. “And, I just got it like a week ago.” 

You twisted the screen to her face, showing that the two of you don’t even have any message dialogues. “If you want, you can search up my socials, and see if I follow him.” You didn’t. 

“Wait..” she muttered, tears falling down her cheeks slowly. “You two aren’t dating?..” 

What. 

“Dating?” You seethed, almost in disbelief before tilting your head back and laughing. “Historia, I don’t do dating.” You placed your hand into your hair, rubbing the spot she yanked. “I would never date Jean, not after what I’ve seen him do.” You said, damn, she yanked me hard. 

“That makes more sense.” She whispered, “I thought I was weird after what you did to Floch,” She paused for a second, “and Niccolo.” 

You squinted your eyes, “Niccolo was an accident,” but deserved, “and Floch was a favor.” Because, Floch literally sucks. It was about time someone put him in his place. And, you have the desperate, pleading, messages from him to prove it. 

“That makes sense.” Historia placed one foot behind the other awkwardly. She felt a guilt crawl up her spine. She completely forgot what you did for girls on campus. 

Jean could be another victim that you're wrapping into your web. Which could be something someone asked you to do. 

You pushed a gold strand of hair from her face. 

Then, placed a hand on her shoulder. “Now, I need you to tell me everything.” You we’re trying to keep your cool, “Because, I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about.” 

Historia blinked a few times, before nodding her head. “I’m sorry.” She softly said, “But, if you hate him that much—“

“I do.” You cut her off, “You don’t understand the history I have with him.” She didn’t. That’s why her words didn’t completely piss you off. 

Historia pressed her lips together. “Did he do something.. bad?” He’s done bad things to her. Cheating seemed to be a familiar word when dating Jean. 

You sighed, taking a step back and looking at your feet. Closing your eyes, before opening them. “It’s about something he did to someone who was a part of me.” 

Mikasa. 

Historia thickly swallowed, “Then, I’m going to need you to sit down.” She grabbed her hands. “Because, it’s really bad.” 

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

You looked at Armin, then back to Historia. “Now that you’re all caught up,” you told him, “Historia, spill.” 

Armin grabbed your hand, shaking his head. “It’s better you hear from her, than Eren.” He whispered, squeezing your hand comfortingly. 

Eren. That name sounded familiar. If you recall correctly, that was a friend of Mikasa’s. Along with a friend of Armin’s. You’ve never met him, but you’ve heard about him when calling Mikasa. 

If you didn’t know any better, you believed Eren was Mikasa’s first love. 

You felt your eyebrows mush together at a realization, “Wait! You know about this Armin?!” You pushed his hand away, glaring at him. 

“..Yes..” Armin slowly said. 

You shut your eyes, “Oh my god, does everyone know, but me!?” You groaned, placing your hands to your face and keeping them there. 

By their silence. You took it as a yes. 

“How bad is it?” 

Armin silently grimaced. “I’ve never seen Jean act like this towards someone.” He leaned back in his chair, “I know he’s horrible, but not obsessive.” He muttered, “Especially with someone he doesn't even talk to.” 

“He likes the idea of you.” Historia added, “That’s what he’s obsessed with.” She bit her lip, hesitating. She didn’t know if this would be a good thing to tell you. “And, with the way you approach men, is exactly his type.” 

You’ve heard that one, too many times. 

“Makes sense.” You said, “That was my goal when I spoke with him, but I didn’t think it would work—“ you paused, “..this well.” 

Obsessive? Over the idea of you. 

That makes things easier. Now, you can make him fall hard for you. You couldn’t wait to throw him out like trash. 

“Anyways,” if you hear what he’s saying, it could possibly help you. Despite how much you don’t want to. “What’s this horse face been saying?” 

Historia blew a piece of hair out of her face. “It’s worse than what he said about Mikasa.” 

You pressed your lips together, your heart squeezing at the idea of Mikasa and her pain. You thickly swallowed, “And, how do you know that?” Rumors are just as fake as Barbie. 

She closed her eyes. “Because, I was sitting next to him when he said them.” 

But, that was something hard to deny. 

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

Eren took a puff of his blunt, his eyes glossy. “Oh, have you two ‘made up,’ yet?” Eren asked Jean, smiling at the girl in his lap. 

Pieck. 

At least, who he thought was Pieck. He couldn’t think straight. 

“Yeah, and she’s tutoring me.” Jean replied, taking the blunt from Eren. “She’s also my personal cocksleeve.” He passed the blunt to Porco. Skipping over Historia. He never allowed her to drink, smoke, or do anything much when she was with him. 

Historia kept her gaze to the floor, the idea of Jean being so open about his infidelity stung. It stung and hurt worse than a cut to the wrist. 

Who the hell was Jean’s new play thing? 

“Damn, if I knew she was such a slut, I would’ve never looked her way.” Porco added, lifting his cup to the rest of the group of friends. Which consisted of most of the football team. “Don’t want someone ran through, right?” His eyes landed on Historia for a split second. 

Cheers and laughter of agreement erupted within the group. While Jean stayed quiet, a smile on his lips. “I’m telling you, the more innocent they look, the more of a slut they are.” He placed his hand on Historia’s head, bringing her close to him. “Right, Historia?” He smiled down at her, watching the way her lip trembled. He was humiliating her. 

She nodded. She only nodded. 

“Yeah, she knows.” He pushed her away, grabbing his cup and taking a sip. “But, seriously, I don’t mind.” 

Eren laughed, cutting into his sentence. “Because, that’s your girl Jean.” He smiled, “You should be the last person to care.” 

Porco’s eyebrows came together, “Wait, who the hell are you talking about?” He asked, “I thought you were talking about her,” he pointed at Historia, “But—“ 

“Y/n.” Eren cut in, grabbing his cup from the table and lifting it to his lips. “The barista you asked out. Her.” He sighed quietly, making sure no one heard. Before adding, “Jean’s girl.” 

“Her?!” He said, “Shit, that’s not what I expected.” He muttered, “She looks so—“ 

“Innocent, I know.” Jean wanted to ruin that, just like he did with Historia. Just like he did with every girl he was with. “That’s what drew me to her.” Like a moth to a flame.

“Ugh, I want someone like that.” Reiner groaned, “Just— not used.” He added. 

“Believe me, they’re out there. Virgins who can’t wait to get dicked down.” Jean replied, “Just gotta’ find them.” He laughed to himself. “Of course, not mine.” He sent Reiner a wink.

“Like we’d want some used whore like that.” Reiner added, “Sorry, but no thanks.” 

“You’d be surprised.” Eren said. 

Jean sighed, nodding his head in agreement. “That’s why no one’s been talking to her.” He added, “Everyone knows that’s my bitch.” Jean stood up, tossing his drink onto the table. Watching it spill into the carpet. 

He didn’t care, it wasn’t his carpet. 

He didn’t care about anything unless it was his. Those were the only thing he cared about. 

“Anyways, I’m out.” He said, “I’m getting bored.” 

Historia glanced over at Jean, then to Eren. Eren felt a small snag of guilt hit his chest. “Jean,” he turned over his shoulder, “What about Historia, you takin’ her home.” 

“No.” He added a scoffing laugh, “I don’t care.” 

And with that, Jean was gone.

Eren sighed, looking at the small girl, “I’ll take you home.” He pushed Peick off, “Let’s go.” He reached his hand out, taking Historia’s small one and gently pulling her off the ground where she was sitting. “You don’t deserve to be on the floor.” 

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

That’s definitely not the little puppy following me around campus. You never released how two-faced Jean could be. 

“I can’t believe he said that to you.” Now, you absolutely needed to humble this man. Put his pleading text on the internet, some shit like that. Something to kill his goddamn ego. “I swear, I can’t believe people like that exist.” 

Armin nodded his head in agreement, you immediately leaned into him. Smiling at him, “I’m so glad you’re not like that Armin.” You mumbled into his jacket sleeve. “I swear, you’re so perfect babe.”

Armin smiled at you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. Before, looking back at Historia, while she sighed. “I’m so thankful for Eren, he bought me some coffee after.” 

Your eyebrows came together, “Wait, Eren bought you coffee?” You scoffed, “And, not your boyfriend Jean?” You saw Historia cringe at the word ‘boyfriend.’

Historia softly sighed, “Jean’s never bought me anything.” She blinked a few times, “He’s never bought a girl anything, thinks his love is enough. And, if you want him to buy you something, he always makes you pay him back.” She paused, “He says he doesn’t really like romantic gestures.” 

“Ugh, I hate him.” You groaned. 

Armin pressed his lips together, “I’m glad Eren’s still the same.” He added. Trying to change the subject. 

Historia meekly nodded in agreement. Her fingers toying with her sleeve. “Me too.” 

Your eyebrows came together, “Wait, wait, please don’t tell me you’re talking about Jean’s best friend.” You asserted, pushing Armin’s arm off you. “The guy who’s literally the embodiment of Jean.” Sure, he might’ve bought Historia a coffee, but so what?

Armin pressed his lips together. Not wanting to add to the rumors. “Sure.” His response was brief, almost stiff.

You sighed, turning your attention to Historia. “Wait, you’re dating Jean?.. I thought he didn’t date anyone?” Especially with the amount of girls always around him. 

Historia propped her arm on the table, letting her head rest in her hand. “We’re not together, he just says we’re dating when it conveniences him.” She let out a long sigh, “With the amount of times he’s cheated on me, it just hurts more to say we’re together.” 

You could feel your heart shatter when she told you that. It felt like the late night calls you and Mikasa used to have. When she was breaking down over this shitty human. You stood up, a determined fist near your heart. “Make him fall in love with me and dump his ass!” You said, determined and proud. A eager smile on your lips. 

Armin slapped his hand over his face, softly groaning. Why were you like this?

You felt your phone vibrate, and instantly you got a bad feeling. It was on the table, face down, catching everyone’s attention. You smiled, “How much you wanna bet it’s Jean.” 

Armin squinted his eyes, playing the odd in his head. “Thirty if it’s that one boy.” He snapped his fingers a few times, trying to remember his name. “Niccolo was it? The one that’s begging you to fuck him again?” It was a good chance, since it was so fresh. He shrugged his shoulders, “Also. Forty if it’s Jean.” 

“Fifty if it’s Floch.” Historia added. 

You and Armin quickly agreed, Historia made the best bet. Floch was always texting you. 

You flipped the phone to you, glancing at the notification. You picked up your phone, flipping the screen so only you could see. Before smiling. “Fuck yeah.” You flipped the phone to the both of them, “It’s Jean and Floch.” And, Jean was asking for some tutoring. Fuck yeah. 

When, another number caught your attention. It was somewhat fresh, only sent an hour ago, and from an unsaved number.

324–1980–1234

Which was weird, despite not texting or calling the men you talked to, you always made sure to save their number. You didn’t like the idea of mixing up guys. Maybe, you didn’t save the number, because the numbers were so– unique. 1234, that’s so easy to remember. 

Obviously, not easy enough since you don’t remember the person. 

You clicked the notification, reading the text. A smile burning onto your face. Cute. Another horny boy asking you to fuck him. How original. 

More notably, he was saying ‘it can be a secret between the two of us.’ Which was odd.. Why would you need to keep anything a secret? You weren’t dating anyone, or talking to someone no less. His next text made you even more confused. 

‘Yk, since you’re Jean’s girl’

You could feel your eyebrows furrow together. Jean’s girl? What the hell? You weren Jean’s girl, in-fact– this was the first time you were hearing this. Wait, who the hell is this guy?! You were going to clarify, but Historia’s voice caught your attention. “How do you know this is even going to work?” 

You sighed, putting your phone down. I’ll respond later. “I don’t,” You lifted your eyes to Historia, “But, if I want this to work, you have to tell me everything you know about Jean.” You said, placing your phone down on the table. “And, I mean everything.” You leaned on Armin’s shoulder. 

Historia bit her lip, “I’m sorry, Y/n, but.. I don’t really know anything about Jean. Other than that, he doesn't talk to his parents anymore.” I can work with that. Historia glanced at Armin, “And, I don’t think anyone does.” She placed her hands on the table. 

Armin sighed, “He cut me off a month into college.” Armin placed his head on yours, accepting defeat with you. 

“Actually,” Historia voiced, keeping her eyes down. “I’m ashamed I haven’t told anyone, but..” She placed her hands to her face, whimpering to herself. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to.” 

Your eyebrows came together, looking at Armin. The two of you stayed silent, unsure of how to respond. Unsure how severe Historia's confession may be. 

 Historia sniffed, blinking a few times, then finally looking at you. “I’m sure you both know the name..” 

You could feel your blood run cold before the name even left her name. 

“Annie.” 

The whore of Trost.

You could feel tears brim in your eyes at the thought. 

What did Jean know about Annie? And, why hasn’t he told anyone?… What was he hiding?

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

Eren moved his foot up and down, glancing at the clock. Watching it tick in his room, hearing the loud music playing from his roommates room. Sighing into his phone, “I don’t know, he’s never acted like that. Like this!” He paused, thinking about what he said. “Well, never to this extent.” 

“Maybe, he is projecting?..” the person responded. 

“From what trauma?” He replied, “He had a childhood I— we were jealous of Mika.” Eren sighed, “I just, I can’t play pretend anymore for his sake. Jean’s become a different person..” 

Mikasa sighed into the phone, “We don’t know that Eren.” 

“We knew him enough to know he had a private chauffeur!” He almost shouted, “Seems like a life to be jealous of.” Eren didn’t have that growing up. Hell, he didn’t even think he was going to attend college because of the cost. Luckily, his academic scholarship helped him attend his dream school. 

Mikasa stayed quiet for a moment, “People change Eren, there’s nothing I– we can do about that.” Something probably happened to the poor-boy before he went to college. “Just wait until he messes up something he actually wants. I promise you he’s going to change.” 

“I don’t think so..” Eren sat up in his bed, “I’m telling you Mika, this Y/n girl really has him twisted.” It’s so weird. “It makes me uncomfortable. She makes me uncomfortable. They both make me uncomfortable.” 

Mikasa sighed, “You remember my best friend from highschool?” Eren’s eyes widened, no way.. “Y/n’s her. And, the two are deathly different, yet similar.” Mikasa hated to admit it. “But, I’m not worried about her, she knows how to take care of herself.” 

Eren nodded, “You think so?” 

“I know so, Babe. Y/n’s someone I warn boys about.” Mikasa sighed, “I think Jean’s the one that should be scared.” Mikasa bit her lip, leaning down on her bed. “I think Jean’s going to experience a real heart break for once.” 

“I hope so,” Eren placed his hand to his head, closing his eyes. “He’s such a shitty person.” 

“Oh, speak of the devil.” Mikasa interrupted, “She’s calling me, I’ll call you later Eren.” 

“See ya.” Eren heard the phone line end, making him place his device on the bed. He missed who Jean was. There was a knock on his door, making him sit up on his bed. Looking at the door, taking a deep breath before speaking. “Come in.” 

The door split open, revealing the person behind it. Jean. “Hey, I’m going out.” He informed Eren, “I have tutoring tonight.” 

Eren hid the expression building on his face. Pity, for you. “With Y/n?” 

“Yeah, with Y/n.” He responded coldly. “See ‘ya.” He was about to close the door when Eren’s mouth moved on its own. 

“Watch out.” Jesus fucking christ, Mikasa was going to kill him. 

Jean slowly walked back into the room, his eyebrows together. His shoes clicking on the wooden ground, “What was that?” Eren could pick up on the malice, yet confusion in Jean’s voice. Something he hadn’t heard in awhile. Hell, he hadn’t heard, let alone seen any emotions come from Jean. 

You know, other than lust. 

“She’s friends with Mikasa.” Eren said, making eye contact with his best friend. “That one girl you broke a while back.” Mikasa was a sensitive subject for Jean, Eren could tell by the way his eyes softened. Only for a moment. It disappeared. 

“Is she?” He leaned on the wall, “I mean, I know she seemed familiar, but I just thought–” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, I don’t care. It’s temporary. She’s temporary.” He corrected, placing his hand on his shoulder. 

“I know.” That’s what Jean always said. “Just.. felt like you would want to know.” 

Jean nodded, giving him a sarcastic, “Thanks.” Eren nodded back. Jean quickly left after that, the door clicking behind him. 

Eren held his breath for a second, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples. “Mikasa, you got to be fucking with me,” Y/n being the threat? What a joke. You were the one who should be worried in this situation. 

But, Eren couldn’t ignore the weight that lifted from his shoulder. He warned Jean, so… anything that happens is his fault. 

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

You sighed dramatically, “Mikasa, I don’t have anything sexy in my closet.” You groaned. 

“Well, where an oversized tee, with some panties.” She commented, resting her chin in her palm. “That always got him going when I was with him.” She shuttered. 

“Ugh, no.” You replied, “I have to be innocent about it, I can’t be too obvious.” Your closet was filled with clothing your mother bought you before moving. Along with things you had bought in your personal time. “What about a skirt?” 

“Sundress?” Mikasa suggested while removing one of the hair curlers from her hair. Blowing the silky strands of hair from her face. “Cute and sexy.”

You giggled, “I like the sound of that, oh!” You quickly dove for your drawers, searching around for something. “Mikasa, I swear if i can’t find this goddamn sleeping dress, I’m going to kill myself.” You were mindlessly tossing clothing from the drawer. 

“Oh! Is it that one.. Like– the lacy, silk dress you have?” Mikasa turned her attention to the camera, watching you frantically look for this article of clothing. 

“Yes! It’s a lace, satin, silk dress.” You added, letting out a ‘ah-ha!’ when you found it. You held it up to the camera, then placed it on your body. Holding it there for Mikasa to see. “Cute, right?”

She nodded her head, “Mhm! Super cute.” 

You slipped off your shirt and shorts, shimming into the natural fitting dress. Smoothing the material down your body, then looking at the camera. Fashing her a quick smile, “Shit, I can’t remember the last time I wore this?”

“You wore it with Floch.” Mikasa looked you up and down. “And, when we had a sleepover.” She grabbed her phone, bringing it to her face. Taking a screenshot on facetime, making your phone light up. 

You smiled, driving for your phone. “Eww! I look so gross!” You giggled, reaching for your laptop. Pulling up Mr. Ackerman’s classroom. When you paused for a second, looking at Mikasa. “Mika, do you?..” You bit your lip, wondering if you should ask. “Nevermind…” You didn’t want to get too invested in Jean, getting attached to him– was bad. That wasn’t how this worked. 

“No, don’t ‘nevermind’ me.” Mikasa huffed, “Tell me, what’s going on in your head, Y/n.” 

You sighed, biting the inside of your cheek. “Do you know anything personal about Jean?” Goddamn it, Y/n. So much for the getting personal bit. 

Mikasa looked at you for a moment, before softly sighing. “Well, back in highschool we were friends.” You didn’t even know he went to your highschool until Mikasa started dating him. “And, he was so kind and sweet. The sweetest boy you’d ever meet.” 

You watched as Mikasa slowly lost her beam. “Then, what?” You couldn’t help but be curious.

“That’s it, we don’t know.” 

We?

“He just changed. I don’t know why, or how? But, he did.” Mikasa sighed, “Some thought he got his heart broken, others thought a loved one died, but I just don’t know.” She bit her lip, “But, I think it has something to do with his parents.”

There was a knock at your door, making you jump. Quickly turning panicked, “Shit! I didn’t change my panties!” Mikasa giggled, ending the call. While you grabbed all your clothing, shoving it back into the drawer and changing your panties to a cute, lacy black one. 

You quickly flipped your hair back and forth, giving it volume before opening the door. Pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, “Hey, sorry. Just got out of bed.” You gave him a kind smile, moving to the side and letting him come into your room. 

Jean gave you a familiar smile, “Don’t worry about it, Babe.” For some reason, the name didn’t sound too degrading. Which… worried you. “Looking pretty as ever.” 

You shut the door behind you, locking it. “Now?” You fiend, “Even when I literally just got out of bed?” You softly groaned. Now, your act is starting to begin. 

“Just got out of bed?” He turned his head to look at you, “Damn, I look like a beached whale when I get outta’ bed.” He ruffled your hair, “You look like a goddamn angel.”

You playfully rolled your eyes, pushing his shoulder. “Stop messing with me, I know you’re just saying that.” He walked in front of him, tilting your head up. Watching as his pupils dilated. 

He was such a sinful man.

“Me?” He placed his hand on your lower back, leading you into your room. “I would never lie to you, Babe.” You hated how sincere that sounded, because you knew it wasn’t. You knew it was a lie leaving his mouth. You knew he was mocking you. 

You fluttered your lashes at him, giving him a bashful smile. “Really?” You made sure to sound small. 

“Of course,” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Anything for my little tutor.” You giggled, damn, he was good. 

You pulled yourself away from him. “So, do you need help with the concept or the work?” You walked to the small table in the center of your room, taking a seat on the ground. “Or, just both?” 

Jean took a seat across from you, leaning back on his palms. “Uhm, both?” He awkwardly crossed one leg over the other. Too tall for the small table in your room. “Whichever allows me to spend more time with you.” 

You could feel your mask chip with your next question. “But, you don’t even know me?” What if I was a killer? What if I wanted to do bad things to you?

“This is why I’m getting to know you.”Jean replied, “You’re different.” 

You blinked a few times, “Am I?” He nodded. You let your fingers run over your table, “Different enough to be your friend?” You watched as he froze, tensed up so quickly you would’ve missed it if you blinked. “Different enough to know the real Jean. Not the one everyone on campus knows about?” You let your eyes study his reaction, which wasn’t the one you wanted. 

“Maybe.” He responded briefly, diverting his eyes from you. 

Perfect. 

You placed your hand over his much larger one. “Don’t worry Jean, I just want to be close enough friends where you feel safe to tell me anything.” You gave him a comforting smile, patting his hand softly. “M’kay?” 

And, that’s when you knew you caught him off guard. In a good way. His shoulders relaxed, his sly smile dropped, and his eyes softened. He gave you a sincere smile, “Whatever, you dork.” He said, pulling away from your hand. 

You just gave him another smile, standing up and reaching to your bed. You giggled, easing the tension. “Do you want me to get you a pillow or something?” You tilted your head, “Just to get you more comfortable.” You stood up on your tippy toes and leaned forward, trying to reach for one of your pillows. You could feel Jean's eyes on the back of your thighs. Which was gross, but good for your situation. 

He found comfort and attraction in you. 

“Uhm, yeah. That would be nice.” He cleared his throat for a second, biting the inside of his cheek. Catching the soft stuffed animal you threw at him. Jean looked at it, before looking at you. “You still sleep with stuffed animals?” He placed it under him. 

“Of course!” You expressed, “And, don’t let Spot hear you say that, he gets grouchy.” You pointed at the stuffed pillow he was sitting on. 

Jean laughed, “Of course, I assume he doesn't mind me sitting on him.”

“He doesn't.” You smiled at him, “He likes it, actually.” 

Jean pressed his lips together, feeling them wiggle. Trying to hold the laugh bubbling in his throat, however he couldn’t hold it back. “Shit, of course, of course. He’s probably into that.” His hand went under him, feeling the soft fur of the stuffed animal. 

You tilted your head to the side, pushing a strand of hair from your shoulder. “People sitting on his face? Who isn’t?” 

Jean’s eyebrows raised for a split second, almost like he was shocked. “Can’t disagree with that, tutor.” He flashed you a charming smile, his pupils dilating for a second. 

You scrunch your nose quietly, “Ew, you perv.” You shook your head, sitting back across from him, bringing your knees to your chest. Reaching for your computer and placing it on the table. “Okay, how about we start with the assignment due this week.” You tilted your head, “That way I can grasp what you do and don’t know.”

“Okay, sure, that works.” he reached for his laptop inside his backpack, placing it on the table. A space gray color. “Only if I get more things to sit on.”

You shook your head, smiling to yourself. “Ew, as if. I feel bad for Spot, and that’s his kink.” You let out a small giggle. 

You reached under the table for your pencil bag. Pulling out a few pens, highlighters, and pencils. Along with a notebook and your textbook. “I hate the fact that this is the only class that actually uses the textbook but,” you shrugged. 

Jean looked at his screen, “That’s why I use the online version.” Jean leaned forward, flipping the computer screen to you. Showing you his pdf. “It helps me save money.” He also downloaded it illegally but..

You blinked at him a few times, “Wait, that’s actually so smart.” More subtle praise. “And yeah, that works perfectly.” 

“I mean, I downloaded it illegally, but yeah.” He sighed, “I tried my best to avoid this class my freshman year, but it bit me in the ass.” He sighed, “That’s karma I guess.” 

“You believe in Karma?” You tilted your head at Jean. 

Jean laughed, “No, just like to humor it every now and then.” His eyes traveled up your hand, “Do you believe in karma?” 

You opened your textbook, flipping to the chapter you were reviewing. “Absolutely, I believe everyone gets what’s coming to them.” You smiled at him, “So this tutoring better work so I can get my good karma.” 

Jean laughed, “Sure, sure. Anything for you, Babe.”

A shiver went up your spine. Anything for you. Those were some sweet words on Jean’s tongue. 

You blinked a few times, collecting your thoughts together before looking at your textbook. “Okay so, this is all about the concept we’re reviewing now. Pretty much explains how to do the homework.” Which was extremely rare for this class. 

Jean looked at your textbook, then his screen. “Okay.” He started scrolling through the document. Secretly glancing at the page you had opened, trying to find where in the book you were. His eyes met yours, wanting to ask for help, but the way you were patiently waiting with a smile, it made him continue looking on his own. “Okay, it’s here, right?”

You leaned forward, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, and making sure he was in the right section. He was. Surprisingly. You gave him a kind smile, “Great, good job, Jean.” You briefly patted his hand, looking at your textbook and grabbing a highlighter. Your eyes discreetly watched him, looking for a reaction. 

A shiver. Jean liked that, he really fucking liked that. In fact he wanted more.

You smiled to yourself, good. Perfect. He reacted well to praise. An often sign of not receiving it in youth. With your parents. 

Jean bit the inside of cheeks, gripping the table. “Okay so, we just read the stuff, then do the work.” He asked, shaking his head and bringing his distant attention to you. It felt like his mind was wandering– it was. 

“Yeah, that sounds great. Just highlight what you think is important, then we’ll go over it together,” you placed your chin in your hand. “It’s as simple as that.” You gave him another smile. It was the last reward you were going to give him. It was going to be odd to see a stone face after being so accustomed to a kind smiling one. 

It wasn’t long before the two of you finished reading, pulling up the assignment. You pushed your textbook to Jean, allowing him to look at what you marked up. “I thought that this was important in general, so I just marked it up.” 

Jean just nodded, his eyes scanning over what you found important. Mentally noting that it was pretty much identical to what he highlighted. “Good, just about what I expected from my smart little tutor.” Jean looked at the first question, already knowing the long steps of progress needed to complete the question. Jesus, he didn’t want to do it. 

“I hate this class.” He groaned, his eyes wandering to you. Waiting for your response, but it never came. Just silence, your eyes glued to your computer screen, and paper. 

Which was expected, you tended to get lost in your studies in the library or in class. Something Jean observed the first few times he ‘ran’ into you conveniently. So, he gave you some space. I mean, it wasn’t like you were purposely ignoring him. 

Right? 

Soon enough Jean was just playing some random computer game. His eyes flickering back to you every now and then, checking up where you were in the assignment. It was so quite, he could practically hear the neighbors next door fucking. Actually no, that was his imagination.   Jean just didn’t like the silence, no one did. He sighed loudly, “This is so boring, and useless.” 

You didn’t respond again, just continued solving for your answer. Looking up for a second, like you were thinking, then returning back to your problem. 

Jean felt a small part of him regress. What the fuck. Now, you had to be ignoring him, but he wasn’t annoyed. In fact, it was something else. Like a stinging sensation in his chest. “Y/n?” 

You tilted your head up, looking at him. Giving him a single nod, the only form of acknowledgement. And for some reason, it made the sensation go away. Only a little bit. 

Jean felt his eyebrows mush together, not used to the cold almost distant responses you were giving him. And, his reaction. What happened to the sweet and bubbly girl that he was just talking to? Jean didn’t like this. In fact, he missed… 

“Do you like this class?” Jean asked, flashing you a charming smile. You naturally wanted to smile back, but you stopped yourself. “I mean, professor Ackerman just sucks, but..” his eyes landed on you, seeing the way you were mindlessly nodding. An almost bored expression on your face. 

He cleared his throat. 

You looked at his paper, then back to him. Seeing the way his hand came over the blank sheet. You let out a breath through your nose, “Jean, just do your work,” you looked down at your paper, “If you need help, then you can talk to me.” You flickered your eyes at him, then back to your work. Suppressing the smile building your lips. The things you do to take a picture of his expression. 

Confusion, but laced with some embarrassment. He almost looked shocked. It was a huge contrast to the usual cocky smile on his lips. God, you wished Mikasa could see this. 

Jean thickly swallowed, “I– I don’t know how to do the first one.” Did I just fucking stutter? His eyebrows came together, shifting the paper to you. 

Your eyes flickered to his, raising an eyebrow. “Have you tried to?” You pointed at his empty paper, “It looks like you haven’t even tried.” That pain returned back into his chest, but for some reason, this time it was worse. You leaned back, crawling over to him. “Here, let me watch you try.” 

Jean looked at you, then the paper. He knew how to do the fucking problem, he just wanted to talk to you. Was that pathetic? It sounded pathetic in his head. He sighed, working out the problem, quickly finishing it, and placing his pencil down. Looking at you and waiting for your reaction. 

Waiting for your approval. However, that thought stayed in his head. Hell, he didn’t even know why he was waiting for your approval.

You gave him a small smile, followed by an enthusiastic– “Good!” 

Oh. 

Oh. 

That was why. 

Then, immediately, you return to your work. Your neutral facade already taking over, “When you’re done with the worksheet, show it to me, I’ll correct what’s wrong.” You pointed your pencil at his paper, then returned it to yours. 

Jean could feel that buzz of happiness slowly disappear. Your words were so brief, the feeling was so brief, it made him crave for more. “Well– aren’t you going to check if this is wrong?” He pointed at the problem he just solved. 

“No.”

Why the fuck were you acting so–

“It seems like you already know how to do it.” You rested your cheek on your palm, looking at him. This time, you looked more interested. “Am I wrong?” Your tone stayed neutral. It sounded like you were bored. 

Bored of Jean. 

Jean could feel his heart drop at that thought. No one’s ever been bored of him. In fact, it was always the opposite. He always got bored with the person. And, for once in his life, he didn’t know whether he should lie or tell the truth. Lies were so fluid with him, but right now he couldn’t even think of one. “Yes.” 

Your eyebrows came together as you scoffed at him. Looking back at your paper, “Whatever, okay.” 

Jean stared at you for a moment, expecting you to add onto the sentence. Except, you didn’t. And, it stung. He didn’t like this feeling. Hell, he didn’t even know what he was feeling. All Jean knew was he didn’t like being told ‘whatever,’ by you. He cleared his throat, “No, is what I meant.” His tone was soft, almost embarrassed, but his face didn’t display it. 

Then, suddenly you were filled with life. Something Jean loved seeing on you. His chest fluttered with the reaction. You giggled, flashing him a big smile. “You’re so confusing, Jean.” You told him, tilting your head and sighing dreamily, “I like when you tell me the truth, makes me like you more. Makes me feel like I’m talking to the real you.” You placed your head on the table, dimples denting into your skin. “Good job, Jean.” 

Jean’s mind blanked at the praise. Giving you a smile back, as he returned to his paper. Eager to finish it. 

Now, was this manipulation? Yes. Yes it was. 

It is the most basic in the book. It could be complicated, but you always knew a way to simplify it. 

Love-bombing. 

You made sure Jean got used to the smiles and praise. Especially since he was around you so often. And, you had to make sure he enjoyed it as-well. To the point where it would be weird not to receive it from you. Which is exactly what happened. And, it got Jean to do something he wouldn’t under regular circumstances. 

Open up with the truth. 

It was simple, really. Jean missed the attention, the praise, and the smiles. So, he did something to get it back. You were conditioning him– ‘Truth, good! Lie, bad!‘

That way, when you asked him something –anything– he wouldn’t lie to you. In fear of the rejection that may follow. In fear of the reaction that may follow from you. Something you only learned from the best. 

You tilted your eyes up, looking at Jean. They met Jean’s instantly, and you felt yourself stutter, before speaking. You weren’t expecting him to already be looking at you. “Believe it or not, but my parents are the ones who bought me my textbooks.” You rolled your eyes. “Pretty embarrassing, right?”

“Really?” He asked, wanting you to continue. 

“Mhm, but it’s kinda weird since I don’t even talk to them anymore.” You placed your hand on the book, making eye contact with him. “Feels like I’m using them.” Which was a lie, you were very much still in contact with your parents. In fact, you were going to their house these weekend. 

Jean leaned forward, “You’re not.” He told you. “You don’t know what it’s like to use someone, and I promise you, it’s definitely not reading a book they bought you.” He answered truthfully. 

You smiled at him, nodding your head. “I guess that’s true, but still.” You looked up, then down, “I kinda’ feel bad.” You sighed, “I always feel bad..” 

“Don’t, parents are shitty.” He replied, “I didn’t even know my parent’s name until freshman year.” You watched as he sighed. 

“Freshman year of high school?!” That was a real shock. 

“No, college.” He chuckled. “Pretty pathetic, huh?” 

That explains so much. You shook your head, “What? Of course not!?” You bit the corner of your lip, “It’s just unfortunate, no one should feel that way. No one should be treated that way.” That way they don’t turn out like this. Like you and Jean.

You’ve heard this story with almost every guy you’ve ‘been’ with. They’re always going through something, and taking it out on the people around them. You didn’t care though. 

It explains their actions. Doesn’t justify them. 

“Well, that’s just how it is.” Jean slid his paper over to you, placing his pencil down. “And, done.” When the hell did he even do it?

You blinked at him, “Done? I’m not even done?!” You couldn’t help it, but you giggled, grabbing his paper and looking over it. “And, it’s all correct.” You looked at him, “Jesus, are you sure you really need this tutoring? It seems like I could take some tips from you if you’re this smart.” 

“You’re the smart one here, Y/n.” He cooed, “I’m just here on my knees doing anything you want.” Jean smiled at you, his teeth flashing at you. His sharp canines caught your attention. Okay, maybe he was a little attractive. 

Another shiver. Hm. You wouldn’t mind seeing that. The worst part about that statement was— he wasn’t lying. 

“I doubt it Jean,” you really did, his pride was too big. “I feel like I’m the one who would do anything for you.” You flashed him a kind smile, creeping your hand slowly to your pencil. It’s about time for a reward. You pencil tipped over the table, and you brought your legs to your chest again, sighing dramatically. “Ugh, this is why I should buy pens.”

Jean waved it off, “Naw, the ink spills in your backpack when it rains.” Dipping his head under the table, grabbing the pencil off the ground. But, his eyes wandered up. He tried to stop it from happening. 

“Really?” You cooed, smiling to yourself. Watching as the tall male visibly tensed. Looking directly in between your legs. “I feel like you’re telling me from experience.” You leaned back slightly, spreading your feet apart. Allowing him a better view of your panties. A filthy and erotic sight for anyone.

Suddenly, he couldn’t think straight. His mind clouded with thoughts of you, only you. Filthy thoughts of what he would do to you. God, he would do anything for– what the hell was he thinking? He cleared his throat, “I have a lot of experience.” He said mindlessly. 

You giggled, pulling your feet together. “That’s not a good thing, Jean.” 

Jean quickly pulled his head up, hitting the back of his head under the table. You let another giggle slip from your lips, standing up and walking to his side of the table. Cupping his face with your hand, the other one coming to the top of his head and rubbing it softly. “Are you okay, Jean? That looked like it hurt.”

He blinked a few times, his cheeks turning pink with embarrassment. “No, yeah. I’m okay, just got distracted.” Hell, he was still fucking distracted. You hand was so small and soft against his face. So comforting. 

You laughed, lifting his face up. Pressing a kiss on his forehead, “You’re so cute Jean, you remind me of cake-pops.” You pulled back, watching as his pupils dilated. 

“Cake-pops?” Jean’s tone was breathy, almost whiney. He placed the pencil on the table, watching as your hand left his face. He missed the sensation already, so comforting and sweet. Something he wasn’t himself. 

“Yup! Cake-pop.” You told him. “Jean, I adore cake-pops, so take it as a compliment.” You letured, returning to your side of the table. 

“Hm,” he hummed, looking back at the paper. “You know, for someone who doesn't like me, that’s such a weird thing to say.” 

You could feel your heart drop. But, you didn’t show it. You tilted your head to the side, eyebrows cutely coming together, “What are you talking about?” Your voice was innocent, confused, and most importantly hurt. How the hell did he come to that conclusion?

I mean, he wasn’t wrong, but he shouldn’t know that…

Not yet, at least. 

“Words and actions say different things, Babe.” He cooed, smiling at you. “Even with this whole fake facade, I can see right through you.” 

You need to think of a lie, and you needed to think of one fast. You pouted, crossing your arms over your chest. “Well, I’m sorry that I don’t want to be another one of your girlfriends or—“ you cut yourself off, “I just want to be your friend, and I thought maybe if I—“ 

“If you what?” His eyes were trained on you, he was interested. 

“If I pretended that I liked you, we could be close and just be close.” You sighed, looking down. You voice dropping down slightly, “Maybe, it was stupid..”

“Don’t you hear the shit people say about me?” He scoffed, “You’re telling me you still want to be friends?” His voice was mocking. 

Comfort but confront him, Y/n. 

“Yes, I hear about you all the time. Which, I won’t lie, made me want to stay away from you.” You bit your bottom lip, “I’ve also heard about the things you’ve said about me.” 

Jean’s eyes darkened, his jaw tensing. That fucking bitch Historia. Jean quickly fixed his expression, biting the inside of his cheek. “You have?” He didn’t want you to know about that. He wanted to keep you innocent and sweet. 

You nodded. “But, I assumed you were just saying that because you were around friends.” You made sure your voice broke, tears welling in your eyes. Making them glossy and cute. “I don’t think you mean it, right?” 

Jean stared at you, his lips parting for a second. 

Jean felt bad. Which is something he doesn’t feel at all. In fact, he’s never felt bad about something he’s said. Even when the girl was openly telling him, breaking down in front of him too. So, why did it feel like a part of him was breaking with you?

“Of course not, Honey.” He brought you into his arms, his hand coming to your hair. “I just– I just have to keep up with an image—“ Jean froze. Why the hell did he say that? Why did he admit that? “It’s weird, and complicated. Something with an old friend.” What the fuck was happening to him?! 

You looked up from his chest, giving him a smile. “Thank you for telling me that.” You mumbled, “I’m happy you’re comfortable enough to open up to me.” 

“I’m comfortable telling you anything.” Jean hated that. Why? Because it was so true. Someone he met almost a month ago, and he was willing to break apart his heart for you to look inside. He didn’t even know why. 

You snuggled into his chest. “I’m glad.” You let out a content sigh, hugging him. 

Jean hesitantly hugged you back. “Me too.” That was a lie, because— for once in his life he felt like he could open up. And, what was so bad about that? You just wanted to be friends. The only girl he wanted, just wanted to be friends. 

This has got to be karma. 

What the hell was he thinking? He was just doing this to have sex with you. 

Jesus, his mommy issues were starting to pop out. 

“How about we just rest on it.” You pulled away from him, smiling up at him. “We’ll meet up at the same time next week. You cupped his cheek, pulling him closer to your face. Smiling as you watched him nearly nuzzle into your touch, eager to have more. “M’kay?” You cooed, letting your eyes dip from his to his lips. Only to quickly return them back. 

Jean thickly swallowed, before giving you a sincere smile. “Okay.” 

You hummed approvingly. Rubbing your thumb soothingly. 

Men are so easy. 

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

Butterflies surrounded you while you walked back to your dorm from class. Well, normal people called them relationships, but you liked to make it sound pretty. Because that’s how relationships should be, beautiful. 

Despite everything that you’ve done, and everyone you’ve done, you strive to be in a relationship one day. A romantic relationship, where the male you love, loves you equally as much as you love him. 

He buys your chocolates, big stuffed bears, bigger than you! Along with huge bouquets of flowers you’ve seen only on tik tok. Cards with cute notes inside, and jewelry decorated with diamonds. The romantic stuff. 

You craved that shit. 

You were just waiting for the right guy. 

And, yeah, you know what you’ve done is bad. But, if it makes it any better, you do feel horrible when it’s over. Because, everyone has a reason behind their actions. And, you know it doesn't excuse their actions. In fact, it doesn't even excuse yours. 

But, you still feel a little guilty. Because, deep down, you secretly care about every single guy you’ve been with. Hell, a part of you cares about Jea–

Armin's laugh cut you out of your thoughts, “I can’t believe it, I’ve heard from Eren that he doesn’t even respond to him.” You adjusted your phone, keeping it pressed to your ear. “And, you’re just leaving him on delivered?” 

Oh yeah, you were on call with Armin. Currently talking about how often Jean texted you. In fact, he was texting you right now. You just didn’t have the energy to respond. 

And sure, you were used to the bombardment of texts from each boy you got with. And, you always tried your best to respond quickly and thoughtfully. 

At first. It was simple, talk to them the first few days, then just ghost them. Then, come back like nothing happened. People crave for things they can’t have. So..

You placed your phone into your back pocket, grabbed your AirPods. “I mean, it’s not forever. It’s a temporary thing.” You blew a bubble with your pink gum, “Just until he gets attached to me.” Or confesses he likes me, one of the two. 

Armin laughed, “Okay, okay. Whatever you say.” There was movement on the other line, “Wait, hold up. I’m like five minutes from the dorm.” 

You laughed, “Okay, damn. Didn’t know you hated talking to me that much.” Armin was frantically about to explain himself, but you ended the call. Giggling. 

“I swear he’s such a sweetheart—“ 

“I’m so sorry!” 

There’s no way that just happened. 

You could feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment. Sure, you’ve bumped into people, but you’ve never bumped into them so hard you fell to the ground. “No, it’s– it’s okay, don’t worry about it.” 

His hand came to yours, pulling you off the ground quickly. Almost like you were a grape, maybe even a feather. “I didn’t see you, shit.” He laughed, his hand coming to his blonde hair. “Sorry, you’re just way smaller than me.” 

You felt your eye twitch with annoyance, “Gee-thanks.” 

He laughed again, “I’m sorry, I don’t think I caught your name.” 

You tossed a chunk of hair over your shoulder, eyeing him up and down. A football jersey and the number 12 catching your attention. Hm. Number 12, Colt Grice, offensive, football player. Why were so many football players popping into your life? “I don’t think I threw it.” 

Colt tilted his head to the side, cocking an eyebrow. A playful smile on his lips, “I think you should, promise I’ll be able to catch it.” 

Maybe, you didn’t need to wait any longer. You already liked this guy. Corny? Sure. But, in a cute, quirky way. You laughed, holding your hand over your lips. “Jesus, you’re so corny. Does that work with all the girls?” You placed your hands behind your back, admiring the man in front of you. 

“I don’t know,” he sucked in air through his teeth, “I think you should be the one telling me that.” Colt leaned down slightly, “Did it work?” His eyes flickered to the purity ring on your thumb, before looking back at you. Wait a minute.. Purity ring? Why did that sound familiar? 

You giggled, nodding your head. Covering your hand slightly, shit, forgot that was on.  “I’m Y/n.” You pushed a strand of hair behind your ear, smiling at him. 

Nope, Colt was throwing that shit back at you. You watched as he turned white. Tensing up like a goat who just got jump scared. And, like God had sent one of his angels, a friend slung an arm over Colt’s neck. Eyeing you up and down for a good second, before looking at Colt. He looked familiar… “Shit man, you know that’s Jean’s girl you’re talking to, right?”  

His voice sounded even closer to home. It hit you like a truck, Porco. 

His words sunk into your head, and you felt your eyebrows mush together. Your hand resting on the strap of your bag and holding onto it, your knuckles turning white. “I’m sorry, what?” Why the fuck was he calling you Jean’s girl? You two weren’t dating. Shit, the two of you weren’t even fucking. 

“Jean’s girl,” Porco said with a smile, a hand combing through his slick back hair. “What? First time hearin’ the nickname? It said all around the school.” 

Nickname? “I’m afraid so, I’ve never heard someone call me that.” You forced a smile, looking at Colt. Please don’t believe the bullshit this guy’s saying. “I have no clue what he’s talking about.” You really didn’t. 

“White gold purity ring on your thumb, short, and tutors Jean.” Porco smiled at you knowingly, clicking his tongue. “You know exactly who you are.” 

I do know exactly who I am. You shook your head, discarding that thought. 

“And, you’re fucking Jean while trying to get with the whole football team.” Porco loudly laughed, a mocking smile displaying to you. “See, told you Jean was right, and you didn’t want to believe me.” 

You wanted to ask— what? But, you knew you wouldn’t like the answer. In fact, you already knew the goddamn answer. Colt looked at you then his friend, a smile building on his lips. “Damn, you really are a slut.” He leaned his head back for a second, “And, I thought Jean was just being extra when he told us about you.” 

You could feel your heart shatter. “I’m not even—“ you looked away, “I’m just his friend.” 

Porco leaned towards Colt, lifting his hand to his ear. Whispering something, “Who’s begging to suck his horse-cock.” 

You slapped him. You slapped him so fucking hard, your hand burned. 

His face was to the side, a red hand mark burning into his skin. His eyes welling with tears from the stinging pain. “What the fuck is your problem?!—“

“Begging? I’ve never— and will never beg for any man.” You shook your hand, trying to cool the feeling down. Before, reaching for your phone, and pulling up your messages. “Sorry, I think the only person begging is—“ You turned your screen to both of them, giving a sweet smile. “You.” You innocently blinked a few times, “You are 1234, right?” You smiled at him, “Or, is that another guy named Porco on the football team, begging me to sit on his face?” 

When you gave Porco your phone number so long ago, you thought he wasn’t going to text you. So, imagine your surprise when you were in the library with Historia and Armin, and saw a text from an unknown number. It didn’t take long for you to connect the dots on who the mystery man was. Colt looked at Porco, snickering. While he glared at you, almost like he was in shock. Before, muttering a soft— “Bitch.” 

You smiled, “I know.” You brought the screen to your face, scrolling up. “I know you’re with Jean, but I still really want to get to know you.” You scrolled a little farther up, “I know I shouldn’t be asking you this. Since you’re Jean’s girl, but, I seriously can’t get you out of my head. Please, let’s fuck. Just once.” You smiled, turning your phone off. Sliding it into your pocket, and tilting your head to the side cutely. Porco’s jaw dropped, while Colt just blinked in shock. “Now, tell me everything Jean has been saying.” You smiled, “Before, I show him what the fuck you’ve been sending me.” 

Colt looked at Porco, then you. “I thought you said you two weren’t dating.” 

“We aren’t.” You replied instantly, “But, Jean obviously cares about me. Enough to lie about shit, to get people off my back.” You looked at Porco, “Enough to tell you to stay away from me.” You let your eyes drift to the side. “So, go spill.” 

Colt thickly swallowed, while Porco pressed his lips together. He was the one to speak first, “He always tells us you’re just another girl obsessed with him.” His hand went to his hair,  “I can…” he lightly groaned, not wanting to say it aloud. “..I can text you about it.” He almost whispers. 

You smiled at him, “Thank you, Babe.” You turned on your heel, giving them a final wave before walking away. Turning the corner and letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Pressing your back to the wall, along with your hands.

Porco turned to Colt, “She’s such a bitch, no wonder Jean’s so obsessed with her.” He laughed, “She’s just the female version of him.” 

You stayed at the corner, listening as they walked away, before making a way of your own. You could feel your mind running, your hands shaking, and your heart pounding. You didn’t know if you were pissed. Oh no, wait, you were. But, you were equally as hurt. Maybe, it was karma. 

“Y/n!” 

You turned over your shoulder, seeing Armin. Your chest fluttered, instantly you hugged him. Sighing out, shutting your eyes, your throat burning. Constricting, even. “Uhm, are you okay?” Armin placed a hand in your air, his other arm wrapping around you. 

“I’m so fucking pissed right now, Armin. You don’t even know.” You mumbled into his shirt, before tilting it up. His eyes widened at you, shocked to see the tears pearling in your eyes. Falling down your cheeks, “I should’ve beat his ass the moment I saw him, rather than do this stupid shit. That way I wouldn’t be considered a total slut who begs for his dick.” 

Jean’s girl. That title burned into your head. It burned itself above your head, a title for all to read. That’s who you are. Jean’s girl. Some untouchable trophy nobody could touch, but Jean. And, he would kill anyone who tried. That’s why, no one was going to try. Colt being a prime example of it. Now that you were Jean’s girl, no one was going to touch you. Because, everyone was scared of him. Scared of Jean. So much for waiting for the right guy. 

An idea popped into your head. Unless…

Armin’s eyes softened, “I’ve been hearing about that..” you could tell a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, looks like this has been going around for awhile. “Jean’s just like that with everyone. I promise, once this is over, everyone will forget about it.” 

“Unless, everyone is distracted by something else.” You pulled away from Armin, wiping your tears. Which felt so embarrassing to do. You hated crying, it felt like you let the person get to you. “I think I have an idea.” 

Armin wiped a tear from your cheek, cupping your face. “Think it over, Y/n. Before you do something crazy.” He smiled, “Besides, haven’t you done enough already? He’s obviously smitten with you, just ghost him.” 

“No.” You sighed, pulling away from him and grabbing your phone. “I haven’t done what I wanted to.” You looked for Jean’s number. 

Armin thickly swallowed, nervous to what you wanted to do. But, he asked anyway, “What do you want to do?” 

You pulled up your phone, calling Jean. “Record him begging me to fuck him.” You smiled, “Show people who the real whore is.” Then, Jean picked up. “Hey, Babe. What’s up?” 

‘Hey BabE, wHat’S uP?’ Shut the fuck up, you thought. “Meet me at the Starbucks, before I fucking kill you.” You ended the call. There goes your innocent, cute, sweet, cursing it bad!– persona. But, maybe your anger was justified. No, fuck that. Your anger is justified. 

Armin blinked at you, almost in shock. “Wait, aren’t you scared this is going to throw Jean off?” He clicked his tongue a few times, “From like your whole innocent persona?” 

You shook your head, “Anyone would be pissed to hear you’ve called them a slut.” You smiled, flashing him your ring. “Even the purest of people.” You were going to fucking kill him. 

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

You stood impatiently in front of the Starbucks you worked at. You had given Armin your keys and backpack, rushing over to your job. Agreeing to meet Armin in your dorm after you killed Jean. Tapping your foot impatiently. Glancing at the time on your phone. 

3:50.

You sighed, sitting at one of the tables outside. Waiting. And waiting. And waiting. And waiting. You waited for a goddamn hour in the freezing cold. 

You loudly groaned, standing up from your seat, and shoving it back into the table. Struggling for a moment, because the chair refused to move. You shut your eyes, trying to silently compose yourself. You were so done with this son of a bitch. You weren’t even mad or sad, just done. You didn’t even want to continue with the shitty plan, you didn’t even want to see Jean ever again. In fact, the next time you saw him, you were going to end—

“I’m so sorry I’m late, I was trying to find your favorite color.” 

You could feel everything rush out of your head. Fuck no, I’m still pissed as hell. You opened your eyes, only to audible gasp. You pupils landed on a huge bouquet of pink flowers, decorated with white and red. A closed letter in the middle.

Like.. the tik tok ones… Behind it, a smiling Jean. A black turtleneck, and silver chain decorating his neck. Hair slicked back with his sunglasses on the crown of his head. Gray jeans, with some black converse, his fingers decorated with black gloves and a single gold ring. Finally, a jacket that pulled his outfit together. He was holding onto a bigger pink stuffed bear. Jesus, it’s bigger than you. Jean saw you looking at it and brought it close, “I also got a friend for Spot.” 

You blinked a few times, in shock. Your lips parted, “I—” You composed yourself, “I thought you didn’t buy your girlfriend's things.” You said without thought. Your eyebrows coming together in slight confusion and anger.

Jean smiled, his dimples denting into his cheeks. “You’re not my girlfriend, you’re my tutor.” The scent of sweet flowers flooded your senses. It almost made you dizzy. 

“Historia is.” You immediately shot back, distracting yourself. You didn’t like the way he addressed you. Actually, had he ever called you by your name?

Jean bit the inside of his cheek, you looked hot pissed. “Not anymore.” He placed the bear in your hands, suppressing a laugh as he watched you stutter backwards, not expecting the weight. “I broke up with her.” He wasn’t going to tell you that he just broke up with her over text right before he came to meet you. 

“So, if I called her right now, she would tell me she’s single.” You accused, pressing your face into the stuffed animal. Cake-pops. It smelled like cake-pops. A shiver shot down your spine. 

Your heart fluttered… You pressed your lips together, trying to suppress the heartfelt smile building on your lips. You loved things like this. You peered at him from behind the fluffy bear. Jesus, Jean loved your eyes. So shiny and deep, he didn’t like seeing them so mean. 

“Yes.” He watched as your eyes softened, your body melting into the bear. It made his heart flutter, “Remember, I’d do anything for you.” Jean lifted the bouquet, “Even if it’s a shitty bear.” He just wants to see you smile. 

“So, you know what this is about then.” You glared at him, holding onto the stuffed bear tighter. Trying to remain composed. 

Jean closed his eyes then sighed, running a free hand through his hair. “Yes.” Unfortunately. When you get with a lot of women, you tend to pick up on things they get mad about. 

“Then, stop saying shit about me.” You looked back to the flowers and reached your hand out, grabbing the letter caught in between them. A white envelope. You opened it up, and looked at the beautiful gold cursive. You looked at him before reading what was inside. Jean didn’t say anything, just watched you. 

Sometimes, actions spoke louder than words. ‘To the girl who makes me want to buy her shit, I’m sorry. I can’t buy enough to represent how much I am, but maybe this helps. X’  

You glanced at the bottom, seeing a Starbucks gift card. Right above it, ‘Buy as many cake-pops as you want. I’d do anything to see you smile.’ You blinked a few times, your heart fluttering. Face burning. “You’re such an asshole.” You mumbled, holding the letter close to your chest. How’d you know my one weakness? “I hate you.” 

Jean smiled at you, “I’m sorry.” 

You shook your head, “No, you’re not.” 

“I'm so fucking sorry, Y/n.” Jean pushed a strand of hair from your face, cupping your cheek and tilting your head up to look at him. His thumb rubbed soothing circles, “I promise to never say anything about you again.” He got closer, whispering– “Promise.” 

You shook your head again, “You’re lying.” 

“I’m not. I can’t lie to you.” His eyes softened, his lips parted for a moment, almost like he was unsure what to say. Or, if he should say it at all. “If you want me to break my heart apart for you to look inside. I would do it without a thought.” You nuzzled into his hand, finding it comforting. What would Mikasa think if she saw you? 

Your eyes sharpened, your nose twitching. “I fucking hate you.” You tore your face from his hand, stuffing it into the bear. Inhaling the scent of cake, and strawberry. You loved that favor. He’s so perfect. You hated how this was so perfect.

Jean kept his smile, walking closer to you. Wrapping his arms around your body, pushing the stupidly big bear out of the way. “You know you love me.” He cooed.

“I hate you.” You mumbled into his shirt, tears pearling in your eyes. “I fucking hate you.” I hate how you know what to say. I hate that you know what to do. You wrapped your free arm around him, melting into his warm body. You sniffed, “I hate you so much.” Your voice cracked. So warm.

Jean dropped his head, trying to rest it on yours. He sighed in defeat, “I hate you too.” 

You shook your head, “No you don’t.” You didn’t want to hear that, you didn’t want to hear anymore lies. You were so done. 

“I know.” Jean whispered, titling his head back. “I could never hate you.” He hated how he couldn’t lie to you. He hated how he couldn’t say no to you. He hated seeing you cry. He hated how he couldn’t hate you. “Let me walk you back to your dorm.”

It was silent. “Okay.” 

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

You remember the weird looks you got back in elementary. But, that was nothing compared to the ones you were getting right now in college. A huge bear in your arms, bigger than you, and Jean holding a massive bouquet of flowers beside you. 

This was worse than elementary. When you met your door, you didn’t want to face Jean. You just wanted to go inside, you just wanted to see Armin. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“No, you’re not.” You sighed, “Just, stop.” You told him, turning on your heel and facing him. “Just leave and–” 

“Don’t do this,” Jean had some desperation in his tone.

You pressed your lips together, unsure of what to say. “Don’t do what? Tell you to leave?” You placed one foot behind the other. “I’m not doing anything, you’re just acting weird.” Now, it was your turn to lie. 

Jean could feel his heart drop. That hurt way more to be told, then say. “C’mon Y/n. We can be something– amazing. I can be good to you, I can– I will be good to you.” He was nodding his head, his lips giving you a shaky smile. 

And suddenly, you had three boys in-front of you. All saying the same thing, at the exact same time. Just another repeat of the cycle. 

“This is the first time I’ve ever felt like this, I can’t–” Floch sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t lose this. I can’t lose you. Please, don’t– don’t leave me.” His hands were shaking by his side. Aching to hug you. 

“We’ve just met,” you argued. Looking away and pushing a strand of hair from your face. “I promise, what you’re feeling is temporary. You’re temporary.” You looked back at him. “The moment you feel even a slight shift in your feelings, you’ll be gone.” They’ve all done it before. Mikasa, Sasha, and Historia. 

“No, no– that’s not– we can work this out. Trust me.” Niccolo’s hand came to your shoulder, then moved up to your cheek. So soft and comforting, “Let’s try again.” He nodded his head, giving you a kind smile. “Let’s try again, please.” 

“There’s nothing to ‘try again,’ we were never a thing.” You closed your eyes, your hands grabbing onto the bear tighter. Which was something new to the cycle. “I just wanted to be your friend, and be there for you. You pushed that boundary, and now..” you looked down, “..I don’t even want to be friends.” 

Jean closed his eyes, “Don’t tell me that, Y/n. We– I–” 

You closed your eyes, you didn’t want to hear him say it. You hated this part. “Well, let’s just fuck once. Then, I promise to never bother you again.” They wrapped their arms around you, their arms shaking. “Just onc–” 

“Fine… Just try to think about it.” Jean placed his hand on your shoulder. Making the cycle in your head snap. Suddenly, it was just Jean standing in front of you. “Think about it for the rest of the semester if you have to.” His other hand went to your shoulder, “I’ll wait. I wait for however long you need me to.” 

Your eyes went wide, your breath caught in your throat. That was new. “I doubt that.” You didn’t know if you were lying. 

“I’ll prove it to you.” He replied immediately, “I’ll do anything for you.”

You held your breath, “Then, don’t say shit about me anymore. I don’t want to hear about ‘Jean's girl’ shit.” You let it go. 

Jean’s hands tightened around you, “Done. Fucking done.” 

“And, I don’t want to hear you talking, let alone fucking another girl.” You glared at him. Taking your free hand and placing it on his, tearing it away from your shoulder. 

Jean's lips twitched before he spoke, “Okay.” He nodded, “I can do that.” 

He hesitated. “Okay, well.. I–” you took a deep breath, feeling his fingers push a strand of hair behind your ear. “I trust you.” You want to trust him. Hell, the little girl inside of you aching for love, is telling you to trust him. You know not to trust her. 

Jean nodded, “Thank you,” he smiled softly, “Thank you.” It was so breathy and desperate, a shaky smile on his lips. His eyes were glassy and blown. 

You felt a shiver go down your spine. Strike, Y/n. Look how pretty he looks desperate. You grabbed the massive flowers from his hands, and twisted your door knob open. Thank god Armin left the door unlocked. “Bye, Jean.” You looked back at your door, making sure not to bump into your door frame. “I’ll see you next week for tutoring.” 

Jean smiled adoringly at you, nodding his head. “Okay, yeah. Can’t wait…” 

“Y/n, is that you?” Shit. Armin. Armin peeked around the corner, smiling at you. “And, guess what..” Armin’s eyes landed on Jean, and Jean’s eyes landed on Armin. You watched as Jean completely changed his expression. Armin soon followed suit. “You invited Jean over?” You could hear the coldness in his voice, such a contrast from his last sentence. 

You lifted your hand to Armin, “No, he–he’s leaving.” You looked at Jean, seeing the way he was glaring at your best friend. “You’re leaving.”

“Who the fuck is tha–” 

“If you ask me a stupid question don’t even bother trying to text me.” You asserted, “You’re doing so good, don’t mess it up, because your pride is getting to you.” 

It was silent as Jean continued to look at Armin, a thousand thoughts going through his head. His hands tensed by his side, before relaxing. Jean glanced at you, his eyes softening as he sighed. Almost in defeat, “Fine. I’ll see you later.”

You smiled at him, “Good job,” You stood on your tippy toes and kissed his cheek gently. “I see you.” You loved the way he melted into your touch before shutting the door behind you. Handing the flowers to Armin. 

His eyebrows shot up, “He bought you this?” Armin walked into the room, placing them on your bed. Grabbing the note in between the flowers to read it. “Wow.” 

You nodded, “Yup. He even bought me a friend for Spot.” You lifted the massive pink bear. 

Armin’s eyebrows came together, “He knows about Spot?!”

You nodded, “Yeah, he used him as a pillow.” You sighed, placing the stuffed bear on the ground. Then, sitting on top of it. “I still can’t believe he bought me these things.” 

Armin sat next to you, melting into the stuffed bear. “Me neither.” He laughed, “And, here I thought he didn’t like buying people stuff.” He doesn't even spare Eren a dollar for lunch. 

“Me neither.” You whispered. 

“What were you two talking about?” Armin turned his face to you. 

You looked down at the ground, “He apologized.” You sat down, “He apologized.” He said he would do anything for me. You didn’t believe him…

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

Eren swiped his tongue over his lips, “I can’t believe you apologized.” He tilted his head to the side, “So unlike you.” Eren smiled to himself, “Don’t tell me you’re pussy whipped.”

Jean rolled his eyes, “I didn’t think I was, it just kinda slipped out.” Which was the truth, not the full truth. But, ultimately the truth. 

Jean apologized, because he genuinely felt bad, and he seriously didn’t want to mess up the situation between you two. He really liked you. Which was a weird thing to come to terms with in his head. 

Jean leaned his head back, placing his hand on his neck. “I mean, it’s easy. Just buy her random things, and she’ll be the one apologizing by the end of the night. I didn’t want to deal with a girl’s emotion.” 

Why was Jean saying this? It wasn't true, and it wasn’t even gratifying. At least with lying about… you. Jean got something out of it,

“Oh shit, don’t look now.” Eren laughed into his drink, “But, your girl is totally all over another boy.”

Jean’s head snapped in the direction Eren was looking. Already scowling, before seeing what was happening. 

It was you. Along with another boy, sitting close to you. 

Jean could feel the anger, and jealousy bubbling in his body. Fuck apologizes. Jean needed to get this boy far away from you. He wanted you for himself. 

Possessive, maybe? But, Jean truely didn’t give a fuck. He just wants you for himself.

Armin laughed, popping a fry into his mouth. “I swear, Hange is so weird.” 

“Right?!” You stood up, and an odd shiver went down your spine. You briefly looked around, was someone looking at you? “I thought she was a stripper in her past life from the way she was moving those hips.” You pushed his shoulder playfully. 

Armin burst out laughing, grabbing your hand and pulling you close to him. “Go get your lunch, dumbass.” He gently pushed you away.

You giggled, and stayed in your spot. Close to Armin. “I think I'm gonna get Panda Express.” You finally took a step back, looking at the food court. Pushing a strand of your hair from your face. 

Armin rolled his eyes, grabbing another fry and twisting it around in ketchup. “Of course you do.” He popped it into his mouth, raising his eyebrows at you.

You flipped him off, reaching in your hoodie pocket and pulling out your wallet. Leaving your backpack, but grabbing your phone. You opened your wallet, and silently counted your money. The Starbucks card Jean bought you, hiding in one of the pockets. You smiled to yourself. 

Wait.. did you just smile to yourself thinking of Jean?..

Ugh. Gross. 

You rolled your eyes and walked to the Starbucks you worked at. Quickly picking up three pink cake-pops. Two for you, and one for Armin. Then finally searching for the Panda Express in the food court. Eating one on your adventure. 

When you felt your phone ring. You reached for it, seeing the person calling you was Armin. You raised an eyebrow, but swiped your finger over the screen. Answering the call, and pressing the device to your ear. 

You got in the line for your food, looking at the menu. “Hey, Babe, what’s wrong?” You stayed quiet, expecting him to respond, but he didn’t. In-fact, it didn’t even sound like he called you on purpose. A butt-dial, maybe?...

“Yeah, I’m good Jean, thank you for asking.” 

You paused, no–you froze. Jean?

You grabbed your headphones, placing one of the buds in your ears and looking at your notifications. ‘4 texts from Armin.’

Pretty girl Armeen. 

Guess who’s walking around? Just a heads up. 

Wait, he’s sitting with me.  

Oh shit, Y/n, don’t come back

Call me right now. 

So, he was purposefully calling you. This wasn’t a butt-dial. You pressed the other earbud in your ear, turning on noise-cancellation, and raising up the volume. Trying your best to listen to the conversation.

“Class has been stressful, waiting for the year to be over.” Armin added a comforting laugh, trying to ease the tension you had to assume was forming. “But, isn’t everyone–” 

“You friends with, Y/n?” Jean’s voice cut through Armin’s, you could feel your eyebrows furry. 

Armin nodded, the sound translated from his headphones. “Bestfriends. We’ve known each other since highschool.” He swallowed nervously, “Why?” 

Jean didn’t say anything for a moment, and you could feel your breath still. In-fact, you stilled entirely, too scared to move. Almost scared to hear Jean’s response, actually– you were scared of Jean’s answer. He promised, you reassured yourself. 

“Oh.” 

You hated how tense his response was. 

“Oh?” Armin mimicked, “Is that bad?” 

“No.” Jean responded. 

You pulled out of line, finding yourself too engaged in the conversation to really pay attention to your surroundings. 

Armin laughed, “Okay, well–” 

“You don’t think of doing anything with her, right?” Jean asked, cutting Armin off. “I mean, that’s weird. You see her as a friend anyways.” His laugh cut through your body, making you frown.  

Armin didn’t say anything, which also worried you. Which led you to make your way back to the table. Still listening. 

Jean tilted his head at Armin, “Oh. Oh.” He laughed, “You do, fuck you little bastard. Playing the waiting game, right?” You could now see them. Jean was standing next to Armin, hands placed on the table. While Armin was still sitting down, tilting his head up to look at Jean. You kept your distance. 

Armin shifted, clearly uncomfortable. “The waiting game? I don’t–” 

“It’ll never happen,” Jean said, face stone cold. Eyes looking down on Armin, while his chin stayed high. Quite literally looking down on him. “Girls never go for their best-friends, they just go to you, and cry about the shitty boy they're dating.” Jean shrugged, “They cry about men like me using them, then leaving them like shit.” 

Armin was now visible glaring at Jean. Almost a silent way of saying, don’t do it. 

Jean did care. “Just like what I’m going to do to Y/n.” He laughed, “So, I guess you are somewhat useful.” You were now approaching the table.

Armin stood up, looking directly at Jean. “Don’t pull this shit, Jean–” 

“Or what?” Jean mocked, “You’ll tell Y/n?” Jean laughed, “I’m so scared.” He cried, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

Armin pressed his lips together, thickly swallowing. He couldn’t force another word out. 

Jean smiled, dimples denting into his skin. “No, no, please–go ahead. I just buy her more shit since it’s so easy to win her over. I’ll promise to never do it again.” He scowled at him, “I’ll tell her all the shit she wants to hear just to get her on her knees, and sucking my dic–” 

“Is it really that easy?” You voice cut through Jean’s like a sharp knife, “Man, if it was really that easy, I’d probably be fucking the entire school.” You scowled, “But, it’s not, is it?” 

Jean’s back was to you, visibly tense. 

“Or what?” Armin mimicked Jean, finally answering his question. He raised his phone, while you did the same. Keeping the screens side by side. “I’ll have you tell her everything yourself.” 

You looked at Armin, and flashed him a kind smile. Whispering– “Thank you.” You turned, and tilted your head at Jean. 

Jean thickly swallowed, face gone white. He could feel his blood run cold, “Y/n, I– let me explain.” He tried rushing, turning his body to face you. 

“No.” You seethed. 

You took a deep breath, glancing at Armin for a second. Before collecting yourself.  

Letting your anger leave your body. 

You smiled, pressing your finger against Jean’s chest. To Jean, it felt like a knife piercing his body. “I’ll do all the explaining.” You drawled out, grabbing all your things, “Let’s get your tutoring session over with.” 

Jean’s eyebrows came together, utterly confused. He was expecting at least a slap, but it seems as if you were never angry. “Tutoring?” He questioned. 

You turned your head over your shoulder, smiling at him sweetly. “Of course!” You faked, “I’m going to teach you something your mother obviously didn’t.” You clasped your hands behind your back, making your way back to your dorm. Expecting him to follow. 

He was.

Jean glared at you, offended by your words. He hated when people brought families into arguments. “And, what’s that?” He pressed. 

You turned your head over your shoulder, batting your lashes at him. “Self-Respect.” 

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

You threw your backpack on your bed, watching Jean walk into your room, and shutting the door behind him. Locking it for good measure.  

“Sit.” You pointed at your bed, grabbing your phone. 

“I’m not sitting.” 

You sighed, always so disobedient. “Suit yourself.” You grabbed a drink from your mini-fridge, clicking it open and taking a sip. Placing the cake-pops on your coffee table. “Are you tense?” Your eyes moved over his shoulders. Seeing as they were close to his head. 

Jean rolled them out, trying to relax. “No, just nervous.” Why did he say that? “I don’t know why you brought me here.” He tried correcting, but it only filled what he didn’t want to be. Honest. 

You looked at him over the drink, blinking once. “Are you always this honest?” 

“No.” Jean needs to shut the fuck up. Jesus.

You giggled, pressing the drink to your lips. Trying to hide your smile. “Cute. That’s good to know.” You raised the drink to Jean, “Want some?” You passed him a gentle smile, one that made his body curl. 

Why were you being so nice? After what you just heard, after what you just said. Weren’t you going to kill him? Teach him– self respect, as you just said not too long ago. Maybe, you were going to poison him with your drink. 

Jean pressed his lips together and nodded, almost afraid to say no. 

You gestured for him to get closer, something he did slowly. Walking around your small coffee table and extending his hand. You turned your drink away, shaking your head. “Nu-uh.” You hummed, taking a step back and leaning on your absurdly tall bed. 

Jean’s eyes moved over your body, watching as you removed your sweater. Revealing the tight crop-top you were wearing underneath. You smiled sweetly as Jean, tilting your head to the side innocently. Placing your hand on his arm, and pulling him closer to you. 

Pushing him to the ground. Jean’s lips parted, about to speak when you spoke first. “Kneel.” You pushed the drink to your lips again, your lipgloss staining the cans opening. “I wanna do it for you.” 

Jean thickly swallowed, his mind racing. Your hands are burning him. His right knee hit the ground, then his left one. His hands pressing against your bedding, caging you between them. You just sweetly smiled, moving your free hand under his chin. Running your thumb over his bottom lip, pulling it down lightly. Then, bringing your soda to his lips. Lifting it, and watching his Adam's apple bob, drinking the cool liquid. 

You just hummed, watching as his long lashes fluttered shut. You just pushed his bangs out of his face, running your fingers through his soft hair. You finally understood the hype, Jean was so pretty. You pulled the drink back, placing the empty can on your bed. 

“It’s good, right?” You asked, bringing both your hands to his face. Holding it while the other played with his hair. “It’s my favorite drink.” 

Jean just leaned into your hand, nodding his head. “Yeah, but I don’t like how sweet it is.” He mumbled. 

“That’s exactly what I love about it.” You laughed, eyes skimming over his body. He was finally around your size, you didn’t need to crane your head to look at him. It was a nice change. “You look so cute.” You cooed. 

You could see Jean’s eyes dilate, his hand going to your legs. Holding onto them. “Don’t say that, it’s weird.” He retaliated. 

“You’re the one making it weird.” 

Jean leaned into you, his head resting on your stomach. “I hate this.” You continued to run your hand through his hair, encouraging him to continue. “Why are you doing this? What are you doing, what’s your goal?” 

Revenge. 

You blinked a few times, letting out a soft sigh. “What’s your goal when you get with a girl?” 

Jean tilted his head up, looking at you. “You know what my goal is, everyone does.” He sighed, a guilt crawling up his spine. “I’m not subtle about it.” Use them.

You let go of his hair, hands moving to his glasses, and removing them. Letting you look into his eyes, “So, you’re admitting the rumors are true?” You folded the glasses, placing them on your bed. 

“Yes.” Jean’s eyes closed, “Some of them are.” 

You tried to conceal your scowl, “Gross.” You mumbled, “You’re a real dick then.” 

Jean nodded his head, “Yeah, I know.” Jean knew he was a bad person. He’s heard it too many times around the campus, from women and men. It was so easy to be a bad person, so he didn’t know why he was trying to be a good one for you. 

Jean didn’t know why he was being so truthful with you. Was he trying to be a better person? Or, was he just trying to get with you, just like every other woman he’s spoken to. He didn’t know. 

Maybe, that’s why Jean was being so open with you. He just wanted to be a better person, and maybe he could start with you. Maybe, he was desperate to start with you. 

Someone Jean wanted to be with. Not someone who made him feel euphoric. He wanted the pain and the pleasure, the vulnerability and security.

“I can’t help it, that’s always how things turn out.” He mumbled into your stomach, a tickling sensation running through you. “I don’t ask for each girl to fall in love with me, I just want someone to want me.” But, when that happens, people get clingy and want commitment. Something that Jean doesn't want. 

You blinked a few times, before looking out your window. Mind drifting to Mikasa, a guilt shooting through your body. “I doubt things always turn out like that.” You responded, “I believe karma exists.” 

“I do too.” 

You looked back at Jean, watching as his arms moved around your torso. Holding onto you, closer than he’s ever held anyone. He could hear the smooth rhythm of your heartbeat. “Are you going to be my Karma.” 

“Do you love me?” You softly asked, fixing his hair. Your eyes are softer than anyone whose ever looked at him before.

“I don’t think so.” Jean blinked, and you could feel his long lashes on your stomach. His hands running up and down your back. 

You couldn’t help, but giggle, “Then, no. I don’t think so.” You blinked a few times, “I don’t think I’ll be the one to break your heart.” But, you’ll definitely play a part in it.

“I don’t break girls' hearts.” 

“You broke Mikasa’s.” You didn’t even think, it just slipped out. 

Fuck.

You could feel Jean still underneath your touch. “Mikasa?” He slowly said, “I don’t feel bad about her, at all.” Jean didn’t want to talk about Mikasa. That was a hard subject for him. 

You could feel the anger pulling through you again. He didn’t feel bad about tearing your friend apart? “You’re horrible.” You whispered, “Do you not know how badly you affect people?” You remained composed, this wasn’t going to work if you lost your temper.  

“Yes.” Jean responded, “I just don’t pity her.” He pulled back, hands slipping away from your body. Then, sitting on his heels. Hands still on your legs, moving up and down soothingly. Well, it was supposed to be soothing. 

And, who would’ve thought? Here you were about to forgive him. Now, you were going to continue on with what’s been brewing in your mind. You reached for your back pocket, grabbing your phone. “Should I ask why?” 

Jean shook his head, but answered anyway. “We had different plans after highschool, and it wasn’t going to work out.” His head went back to you, his head resting against your thigh. “But, she didn’t want to end things.” His voice was oddly soft. 

You didn’t say anything. Placing your hands on your bed, and sighing. You could feel your phone buzz underneath your hand. Unsure of your emotions. Your hatred for Jean spiraled off Mikasa. And now, you finally had his side to the story. 

Things needed to end, but she didn’t want it to. So, Jean had to find a way to make Mikasa end things.

No, don’t. This doesn't excuse the things he did in college. He still hurt a lot of people. See it through, Y/n. 

Jean closed his eyes, enjoying your warmth. It had been so long since hugging someone felt so– comforting. “You’re Mikasa’s best friend.” You couldn’t help but feel a little shocked, however you just nodded. “That’s why you looked so familiar.” 

You brought your phone to your face, looking through your photo gallery. “Maybe, I don’t remember you if we’ve met.” Your voice was oddly toneless. Jean hated when you spoke like that. 

 You found the video you were looking for, and left it on the screen, then turned off your phone. “You know, Annie moved.” You voiced, trying to kick off your shoes. “Any clue to why?” 

Jean’s expression didn’t change, he just moved back. Sitting on his heels. Eyes moving to your feet, watching as you struggled to get your shoe off. “No.” He grabbed your ankle, lifting it up and untying your shoelace.

You thickly swallowed, your heart racing by the small action. “You lied.” You whispered, “Everyone on this campus knows about Annie Leonhart. ”  

Jean pulled your shoe off, placing it gently on the ground. “I’ve heard about her, but I don’t know why she moved.” He looked at you again.

“Don’t,” you lifted your other foot, gesturing for Jean to also take it off. “You know exactly why she moved.” Jean’s hand moved over your other foot, hands pulling at the shoelace. 

“Because her sex video got leaked,” Jean responded, pulling off the last shoe. “That sucks, I don’t blame her.” He placed the shoe on the ground, the sound clicked through the room. “I would’ve done the same thing.” 

You lifted your phone to your face, opening it and playing the video. Eyes skimming over the tan, porcine skin. You flipped your phone, raising the volume. Watching as his eyes moved over the screen. “That’s you, right?” You pointed at the guy. “The guy, not Annie.” 

Jean thickly swallowed, unsure of what to say. Or, to what you were doing. “Are you trying to get me to confess that person is me? Because, it isn’t.” He responded, “I was as a party with Eren when this happened, I already told the school–” 

You hooked your foot around his waist, pulling him closer to you. Leaning down, and running your hands through his hair again. You hummed, eyes fluttering. “Can I check?” It came out so smooth, like honey to the mouth. 

Jean’s eyes dilated, his mouth going dry. “What?” He shakily inhaled, hands dropping to his thighs. “I–” He forced an awkward smile, unable to speak. “I don’t know what you’re talkin–” 

“Shut up,” you whispered, leaning in closer. “Isn’t this what you wanted? Me to suck your dick, get stupid off it or something.” You mumbled. 

“While you’re showing me a video of some girl getting fucked?” Jean shot back, “While also accusing it’s me in the video, as well as the one who posted it.” He started to get up, but you placed your foot on his shoulders. Pushing him back to the ground. 

“No.” You quickly said, “I like you here.” You placed your calf on his shoulders, drawing him in closer. “I think you like being here too.” 

Jean hated how you were right.

Jean’s mind was at an internal debate. He was mad over your accusation, but desperate to touch you. He’s never hated, and lusted for someone as much as you. 

What was your goal?.. You never told him. 

Jean could feel himself nod, something he couldn’t control. His eyes are going everywhere, but in between your thighs. 

“Awh, how cute, love it when you’re honest with me.” You placed your foot back on the ground, grabbing his face and drawing it closer to yours, “C’mere,” you whispered. 

Jean swallowed, his tongue moving over his bottom lip as his hands went to your waist. Desprestly pulling you close to him, you just smiled. Finding it endearing how much he wanted to touch you. You pressed your lips against his, moving slowly. 

Your hands moving through his hair, arms wrapping around his shoulders. Pulling him closer to you, you could taste something sweet on his lips. You wondered if it was your cherry lip gloss, or maybe the drink the two of you shared not too long ago. 

Jean shakily exhaled, eyes fluttering shut. His hand trying to pull you closer to him. A small moan escaping his throat. 

“You’re so desperate.” You mumbled against his lips, listening as a soft whine left his throat. Making you continue kissing him. You could hear the video playing in the background, you wondered why Jean wasn’t more adamant on turning it off. 

His tongue moved over your bottom lip, your lips parting for him. You could feel his tongue move over yours, circling it, before grabbing you tighter. You jumped at the sensation. You could feel him pushing himself off the ground, something you didn’t want him to do just yet. 

“Stop, don’t.” You pushed his chest, parting him away from you. Watching as he took in a deep breath, eyelashes fluttering. You pulled your head back, smiling as he followed you. “No more kisses.” 

Jean’s Adam's apple bobbed. You couldn’t wait to run your tongue over it. Jean took in a deep breath, his eyebrows mushed together. Clearly frustrated with the lack of sensation, but he nodded.

You smiled and hummed, grabbing your phone and shoving it in his face again. “Is it you in the video?” Jean shook his head, making you roll your eyes. But, something caught your attention. You gave a pitiful laugh, “Are you hard?” You leaned down, “That’s so pathetic, and over a 5 second kiss no less.” You placed your foot on his thigh, trailing it up his leg.

Jean jumped at the sensation. His hand tightening around your leg. 

“I’m not doing anything until you tell me the truth,” you stopped, pulling back and finally sitting on your bed. “So, either you can walk out of the room with a boner, or you can just be utterly truthful with me.” You smiled at him, cupping his face and finally lifting him off the ground. “C’mon, let me take care of you Jean.” 

Jean took in a deep breath, feeling the way your voice seeped into his head. Clouding his mind like a drug, making his breath shake with every suckle of air. “I–” He looked away, “Y/n you don’t understand the severity of admitting something like that is.” 

You cut him off with another kiss, moaning against his lips as your eyes fluttered shut. Your hands moving over his chest, then to his shoulders. Pulling him closer to you. Feeling his arms wrap around the arch of your back, pulling your chest to meet his. You could feel his eagerness in the kiss. The way things were heating up too fast for your liking. 

“Slow down.” You told him, placing your forehead against his. Noses skimming each other lightly, “Enjoy the sensations, don’t rush into the finish.” You rubbed your nose against his, “What do I taste like?” 

Jean pressed his lips to yours quickly, “Strawberries, and cherries.” He kissed you again, “And, cake-pops.” He couldn’t help, but smile. 

You smiled back, “See. Being honest only brings good things.” You let your hands skim his face lightly, tracing his features. “Doesn't it feel good to be honest, it’s like a weight being lifted off your chest.” You pressed a finger above his heart. 

Jean pressed his lips together, feeling them tingle. “Yeah.” He breathy said, “It feels good to be open.” 

You giggled, pushing his chest away from you. Lifting his head, and pressing your lips to his ear. ���Good, you can feel even better.” You pressed a kiss to his neck, “I want you to tear your heart apart, so I can judge what’s inside.” You bit him, feeling his jump. A whine leaving his throat. “Okay?” 

“Yes, okay.” Jean mumbled, his hands tensing around your waist. “What do you want, I’ll give you anything.” 

“Why’d you post the video?” You pulled back, pressing your back to the wall. Leaving Jean leaning on the bed. “You’ll get a big reward for this one.” You grabbed your phone, opening your camera app.  

“I didn’t post it, it’s— it’s a complicated story.” You could see the guilt in Jean’s eyes. “I– Annie had something on me, so I cut her off. I was scared she was going to get me expelled.” He sighed, “It isn’t me in the video, but..” He groaned, running his hand over his face. “But, I know someone in the baseball team posted it.” He just didn’t know specifically who. Which killed him inside.

“What did she have on you?” You grabbed his collar, popping one of the buttons open. Running your fingers over the exposed skin, then dipping your fingers lower. Reaching for his belt, undoing it. 

“She– she knows my mom.” 

You laughed, “A momma’s boy, how cute.” You mocked, pulling his belt from his pants. “But, so what? Who cares if she knows your mom?” You paused for a second, letting your eyes drift to the side while you thought about something. “Wait, I thought you didn’t talk to your parents?” Your eyebrows were mused together, displaying your confusion.

Jean swallowed, looking away embarrassed. “I don’t talk to my Dad, I just didn’t want to get into specifics at the time.” He whispered. 

You tilted your head, “Well, now you can.” You replied.

“My mom has–” Jean leaned into the crook of your neck, smelling your sweet perfume. “She’s just stressed out of her mind about how far from home I am.” You noticed how his sentence changed. “And, my Dad’s not even in the picture to comfort her.

You turned your head to his hair, rubbing your hand on his abdomen. “Awh, poor baby.” You let your fingers slip underneath his pants. “I still don’t understand why that matters?” Cold, maybe? But, you didn’t want to lie and comfort him. 

Jean groaned into your neck, his eyes fluttering. He didn’t know why he liked this so much. It felt so much more filling than anything he’s ever done before. “Annie’s in one of my classes, and knows I’ve been having someone attend for me.” He sighed, “And, I need that class to graduate. I can’t afford to repeat it– my mom wouldn’t be able to afford that stress.” He closed his eyes, “She needs me home.” 

You froze, blinking a few times. Almost in shock, it was an oddly sweet sentiment. “You’re–” still a dick. You pushed his head away from your shoulder. Pointing your camera at him, “That doesn't excuse anything, she was doing what was right.” 

“I didn’t care. I accepted that I wasn’t gonna’ graduate.” He fought back, looking directly into your eyes. “I didn’t even know the video was going to be posted, I found out the same way everyone else did..” Jean closed his eyes, “Once I knew about the baseball team rumor, I threaten to snitch. Then, I got a note saying the person would put the blame on me.” Jean tilted his head down, “He told me, no one would believe me. That— I would make the most sense.” You could see the guilt seeping from Jean.

You felt bad, yes. But, Jean needed to tell someone that. He shouldn’t have held onto it for so long. You smiled, shrugging your shoulders. “Maybe, you should’ve just gone to class. Just like everyone else.” You responded, “You need to tell someone. So, Annie can get justice.”

Jean’s eyes flickered to your phone, seeing how it was oddly pointed at him. “I want to, but I don’t know how. I don’t want to be framed.” He answered truthfully. “I don’t want my life to be ruined…” You could see genuine remorse laced in his face, even tears pearling in his eyes. “I adore Annie.” She didn’t deserve that.

His sincerity poked a knife in your chest, “I can help you.” You flashed him a nice smile, “We can bring Annie the justice she deserves.” You tiled, you head to the side. “Now, for being so good. You get a reward.” You pointed at your camera, the flash turning on. You were recording. You unbuttoned his pants, watching the way he tried helping you. A trail of hair that matched the one on his head moving down his abdomen. “Hey, Jean?” You pressed your lips against his, smiling. Feeling his hand move over the bulge in his pants, you placed yours over his. “Do you want me to do that?” 

Jean could feel his eyes flutter at the thought, your lips wrapped around his cock. You grabbed his face, pushing it away from you, and pointing your phone at his face. Jean flinched once the flash hit his face, “Tell the camera how much you want it.”

Jean’s eyes went wide, why was this so… hot? “W-what?” He blinked, averting his eyes. You just drew his face back to the lenses, opening your mouth and pointing at it. Silently telling him to do the same thing. 

Jean thickly swallowed, his lips trembling before his lips parted. You giggled, pressing your thumb to his bottom lip. Then, running it over his tongue. Watching as he stuck it out, his face dusted in a blush. 

Jean’s so hot like this. 

“Go on, tell me.” You placed your thumb in his mouth, pushing on the inside of his cheek. “What do you want?” You pulled your thumb away, a string of silva snapping as you did so. 

Jean sighed, his mind clouding. Just suck my dick already. “I want you to suck my dick.” He probably should’ve thought about that sentence more, before it left his mouth.

“Not good enough.” Your eyebrows were furrowed, glaring at him. “Do better, don’t disappoint me.” 

Jean's eyes fluttered. He shouldn’t have liked that as much as he did. A small whimper leaving his throat, “Can you please suck my dick, fuck.” His hand moved to his boner, rubbing it through the thin fabric of his boxers. He took a shaky breath in, “I really fucking need you to suck my dick.” 

You pushed his bangs out of his face, letting his eyes look into the camera– his pupils going small. You tugged his hair, making him flinch. His Adam's apple bobbing with the motion. “Good enough.” You hit the red button again, making the recording stop. “But, that’s not all I want.” 

You pushed yourself off the bed, letting your knees hit the floor. Jean racked his fingers through your hair, “What else do you want?” It was supposed to be defensive, disgusted, and dismissive. It wasn’t 

Your ears perked at that. “I want one more video.” You let your hands move up his thighs, pressing your lips to the shell of his ear. “You can do that for me, right?” 

Jean thickly swallowed, unable to think properly. His mouth dry as he whispered, “Mhm.” He moved his head to your neck, almost like he needed it to be supported. “I’ll do anything you fuck your tight pussy.” Fucking anything. 

You hated how your thighs mushed together at his words, but you ignored it and laughed, pulling down his boxers. “Good.” You kissed his ear, then his neck. Let your hand wrap around the head of his cock. You could feel a shock move throughout your body. 

You’re kidding, that rumor was true too?!

You looked down, seeing that your hand almost didn’t wrap around the head of his cock. Jean noticed, and smiled to himself. “I told you some of the rumors were true.” His hand wrapped around yours, moving it up and down his sensitive head. “Fuck yes, love this shit.”

You inhaled, trying to stay composed. Yeah, but c’mon– why’d the horse-cock one have to be true. “That’s so stupid,” you giggled to yourself. “I hate you, and your stupid dick.” You ran your thumb over the slit, watching as he stuttered. Closing one eye, and scrunching his nose.

Jean’s cock was oddly pretty. Which was something you never knew a cock could be but– here you were. His tip was flushed in the same color of his cheeks, two veins following to the base of his cock. One traveling on the underside, then moving back up to the top. While the other just went down the left side. The best part was, he was well groomed. 

You swallowed, swirling your tongue around the head. Closing your eyes, and pressing your tongue to the underside of his cock. Jean moaned, his dick twitching in your mouth. 

“God, fuck yes.” His hand went to your hair, holding it behind your head. “Deep— can you go deeper, please?” Jean whined, his hand tensing in your hair. He shivered, “Mhmp—“ he put his hand over his mouth, trying to control his moans. But, a muffled— “Fuck,” passed through. 

You couldn't say no to that, not when Jean couldn’t hold back his moans, because it felt so good. You wanted to head more. You inhaled before closing your eyes, and pushing yourself closer to his abdomen. Stretching your mouth open to accommodate his size. Why’d his dick have to be so big? 

Jean gasped, hips jutting forward into your mouth. His teeth clenched, a small whine leaving his mouth while his eyes watered. Why the hell was he so sensitive? Jean moaned, “Fuuck, ohmygod– don’t stop, don’t fucking stop.” He could feel the back of your throat hit the head of his cock, and to think– you hadn’t even taken all of him in your mouth. 

You closed your eyes and pushed your head, feeling his dick fill your throat. A loud whine echoing through your room, your hands moving up and down what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. You pulled back, running your hand up and down his cock. Rubbing the tip with the palm of your hand. Jean gasped, his chest jumping up. A deep groan leaving his lips.

Jean’s tip flushed pink, and oozed with pre-cum. Your hand going up and down, watch the obscene sight. It was so nasty and dirty. Sucking the dick of your best friend’s ex, yet here you were. Eyes watering at the thought of it entering you, your pussy soaking the panties you were wearing. 

You were horny over seeing Jean crumble in your hand.

You opened your lips again, sticking out your tongue and batting your eyelashes at Jean. As his cock meets your tongue again, making you open your eyes and look down. Watching as you moved down his length, moaning softly. The noise vibrated down his cock, making his thigh jump. “You’re so good, fuck I’ll do anything to keep you here.”

Jean sharply inhaled, rutting his hips forward. Trying to get deeper in your mouth, “Fuck, whatever– whatever you want, I’ll fucking do.” He said, stuttering over his words. You couldn't help, but feel your eyes flutter, slowly moving forward. Taking a good amount of him inside your mouth. A soft groan heard from above you, as his hand met your cheek, slowly caressing it before going to the bed sheets. Gripping onto them, as Jean tried to support himself. 

Your mouth was so warm. So hot and inviting, like it had been waiting to take his cock deep inside you. Jean couldn’t help, but wonder– how your pussy would feel? How hot, tight, twitching and desperate it would be. 

Jean hated how he wasn’t in control. He wanted his first time with you to be about you, and only you. Your pleasure. Not his. 

Then again, he was stopping himself from gripping your hair. Pushing your up and down his cock at a pace he enjoyed. Fuck the slow shit, he loved the messy pleasure. Where you don’t care about how you look, you’re just desperate to feel good. 

Jean wanted to make you cry and sob with pleasure, your eyebrows furrowed and mind empty. Pleasure swirling your head, cum spilling out of your pussy. Body twitching when he made you cum, again, and again, and again, and again. The way your mind would go stupid.

He wondered how hot you’d look squirting. 

All dumb and empty, drunk on the feeling of his cock hitting that perfect, little, spongy, place. The way you wouldn’t be able to think right, just stupid for him. But, right now, Jean was going to focus on you taking his cock slowly. 

Let you take control of the situation, because it felt so fucking good. Try to hold back the urge to fuck your throat. Jean wanted to let you do your thing for the time being. He would do what he wanted, later. 

Hopefully there was going to be a fucking later.

Jean loved being treated like this. But, he was also desperate to make you cry with ecstasy. 

You tried going back down, finding it a struggle to fit him in your mouth. Which was far more embarrassing then it should’ve been. It didn’t help feeling his cock slowly moving down into your throat. 

You were so used to being able to deep throat anyone, hear them whimper and cry like they never had before. And now, you couldn’t even deep throat Jean’s stupidly big dick. An event bulge even Jean could see, indicating how deep inside his throat he was. You took a moment to try and breath, before swallowing. Your throat slightly tightening around him to make him stiff. A particular groan leaving him that made you clamp your legs together. 

“Yes, yess. Fuck, you’re doing so well Y/n.” He groaned, cocking his head back. His throat displayed to you while his eyes fluttered, rolling to the back of his head. “I can’t—just, fuck—don’t stop. Don’t stop.. don’tstop.” Jean rocked his hips forward, pushing his cock deeper into your throat. Cutting off your air. 

Soo fucking good. Was the only thing swirling in Jean’s head. Jesus, he was obsessed with you. Thank god you were finally sucking his dick, he wouldn’t be able to handle another day without this. Fuck, would you suck his dick everyday? 

Your eyes watered, pussy fluttering around nothing as you slowly moved back and forth. Feeling him inside in ways that should be disgusting, yet here you were enjoying it. You slowly moved your head back, removing your mouth from his cock with a small ‘pop!’ You sniffed, taking a moment to try and catch your breath as you looked at Jean. 

A smile building on your lips. 

Jean’s chest was rising and falling quickly, hands grabbing onto the sheets as he pulled his head back to look at you. His eyes were watering, his bottom lip red and swollen. His lips jittering forward every once and a while, making a chill go down his spine. He hated the pace yoy we’re going. A painful slow pace that made him want to grab your head and fuck your mouth. At a pace he would enjoy, thoroughly. 

Yet, he didn’t. He wanted to let you do your thing, for now at least. It wouldn’t be long until he got what he wanted. 

Looking up to Jean, you licked the corner of your mouth, your tongue peaking at him for a second. Before you tilted your head to the side, pressing your tongue to the underside of his cock, and taking a long hot lick up his dick, drool pooling down his cock. You made sure to trace it over the vein. 

Jean snapped his hand over his mouth, eyes rolling into his head. A moan leaving his covered lip. You couldn’t help, but giggle. Pulling your head back and taking a look at his cock. Jean’s chest rising and falling as deep breaths left him. 

 You didn’t want to admit it, but you liked doing this. Loved doing this. You didn’t know if it was Jean who you loved doing, or the action itself. You’ve given head before, but you’ve never seen a boy tear up because it was so good. 

Maybe, you just liked feeling Jean, and you didnt want to admit it. You liked when his bare hand touched your skin, the heat and roughness of it sending a satisfying shiver down to your clit. Running gently through your hair, and pulling it out of your face. 

Jesus, your panties were drenched at the thought. 

You wanted more of his skin. You wanted your mouth all over his bare skin, you were dying to feel him against you. Most of all, you wanted to kiss him. Your mouth desperate and eager to please—and kiss him. Feeling his tongue against yours, making your head cloudy and full of thoughts of him and only him. His flavor, scent, feeling, just Jean in general. You craved that.

Because, deep down—the reason you were with so many people, is because you're a good girl. Someone who loves to please, loves the attention. Yes, you were an attention whore, and lied about it. But, wasn’t everyone? 

Maybe, you were a little fake. But, you still followed through with every plan. Revenge always wins your secret desire, it was always so much more satisfying to see a man beg—rather than it being you. Maybe, you were just a switch. One that took whatever Jean gave her.

Jean has been dying to see you like this, on your knees looking up at him with your glossy eyes and sucking his cock. Legs clamped together, because of how much you were enjoying this. 

It was nasty, disgusting even but, you were enjoying this so much. Feeling his dick deep in your throat. Jean’s eyes on you, watching as you struggled yet powered through. The small moans, and grunts he would release when you tried fitting him all in your mouth. Still, that wasn’t enough for Jean, he wanted more. He wanted more of his dick down your throat. Wanted to see more of the bulge of your neck. Grab your neck to fucking feel it. 

Jean’s hand went to the top of your head, grabbing your hair and pulling you down his dick. His tip hits the back of your throat before deeply going inside. A small gag leaving you, tightening around his cock making Jean jolt forward. A soft groan catching your attention, eyes looking up to see as he tilted his head back. 

You were glaring at him, a warning for him not to touch you. You moved your head back, pushing his hand from your hair. You pressed your lips on the top of his cock, “Do that again, and I’ll stop.” You glared at him, “Don’t touch me.” 

Jean swallowed, a small moan leaving his throat. He just slowly nodded, hands moved to the bedding and gripping them. “Fine. Okay, okay.” He shakily sighed, “I won’t touch you.” 

You smiled sweetly, pressing a kiss to the tip. “Good, I’m so happy you can listen.” Let’s see if he follows through. You started moving forward and back, tongue feeling on his cock as you continued. Keeping at a pace that was hot and enjoyable for you. 

Jean thickly swallowed, head lollying back. His eyes met the top of the room. His nerves all over the place in the best way possible. Making his mind clutter, the only thing going through it was your name. Holy. Shit. He needed this shit. He needed you. 

You looked up to Jean, eyelashes fluttering as you moved back and forth. You were enjoying this. You were enjoying choking on your best friend’s ex, feeling his cock deep in your throat. Your panties were wet, your thighs rubbing together as you closed your eyes. A soft moan expressing this desire. 

You wanted Jean. Pathetically.

You swallowed around him, moving back and dragging your tongue to the tip of his cock. Running your tongue over the tip, circling around it before adding more pressure. Watching the way Jean jolted forward for a moment, his hands meeting your hair with a scratchy groan. 

Jean’s hands tensed around the bedding, catching your attention. Your eyes going to his hands, watching as they moved off the bedding. You were going to stop if he touched you. Jean’s hands went close to your head, tensing before going back to the sheets. Gripping onto them, he wanted to touch you. You couldn’t help, but giggle. 

You pushed your mouth down his cock again, this time— taking him all the way in your mouth. Something that caught you off guard. A sigh of relief from Jean audible from where you were. Your nose softly pressing against his abdomen, cutting off any air from reaching your system. A soft gag tightening around his cock as your eyelashes fluttered. Tears fell down your face as you closed your eyes. Trying not to choke, and touch yourself from the action. Wanting relief on your clit. 

You finally pushed yourself off. Tongue running over his head for the last time before smiling. Siliva decorating your lips, a few strands connected to his throbbing dick. He let go sheets, trying to catch his breath. The tip burning with pleasure, desperate to finish. You pushed your head down his cock one more time, moving back down. Ignoring the slightly uncomfortable feeling of your panties. 

You stopped, hearing Jean moan loudly. That was good enough. Dick still in your mouth as you pushed yourself off. Indicated with a satisfying, ‘Pop!’ Your head was fuzzy, still in a moment of bliss. Eyes slightly cloudy and watery, thighs clamped together. Your body is tingly and warm, clit sensitive at the thought of being touched.

You hated how much sucking dick affected you. 

You smiled at Jean, resting your head on his thigh. You were losing composure, which you couldn’t do. You needed to get what you needed, and you needed to get it fast. You slowly moved your hand up and down his cock. Feeling it twitch in your palm. “Remember how I said I needed one more thing?..” Your voice was smooth, almost sweet.

Jean blinked a few times, trying to regain his blurry vision. “Yeah, maybe– fuck.. Kinda.” He bit his bottom lip, hands moving around your. Helping you pick up the pace. You were tempted to stop, you did tell him not to touch you. But, you were almost done. So, it didn’t really matter. 

You pushed yourself off the ground. Pressing your lips to his, taking your free hand and grabbing his glasses from the bed. You made sure to run your tongue over his before pulling back, watching as he tried to follow you. You placed the glasses on his head, slotting them over his eyes. His bangs are slightly damp, and messy, draping over his eyes. You pulled out your phone, pointing it at Jean. Pressing record. “Do you wanna’ cum?” You pulled back, making sure to get his hand moving up and down his cock. Your smaller hand underneath, some pink nails peaking through the cracks.

Jean bit his bottom lip, his dilated as he looked into the camera. “Mhm.” 

“Words.” Your hand tightened around him slightly, making Jean flinch. Jean sighed, his face now read. Averting his eyes, “Can you make me cum, y/–” You slapped your hand over his mouth. Making sure the video wouldn't catch it. 

“Don’t say my name, Jean.” Your words were venom, “Men who can’t control their dick, don’t deserve to cum.” Your voice was deeper than before, but still smooth. There were two reasons you didn’t want him to say your name; 1. If this video were to be.. Leaked. You wouldn't want to be associated with it. 2. You would pounce on Jean if he moaned your name. 

Jean shook his head, blinking at you through the screen of your phone. “No, please!” He whined, shaking your hand off his lips. “Fuck, please let me cum. Inside you– on you.. I don’t fucking care just, please..” He cried, a tear rolling down his face. “I wanna cum, please make me cum.” He inhaled, tears pearling in the waterline of his eyes. “Fuck, yes. Please make me cum– fucking need it.” 

You thickly swallowed, stopping the recording and tossing your phone. “Fine.” You cooed, “but, only because you asked so nicely.” You smiled at Jean. 

Jean shakily inhaled, “Thank you, god fucking thank you.” You moved your thumb to the tip of his cock, rubbing him off while giving attention to the head. Watching as he moaned, grabbing the end of his shit and bringing it to his mouth. Biting into it and stuffing his moans, but desperate you watch your small hand around his huge cock. His eyes rolled to the back of his head at the sight. 

“Fuck, I-I’m gonna’ cum.” He cried, his face nose scrunching cutely. You continued the motion, watching as Jean tensed. “Fuck, fuck–fuckfuck.” You watched as thick white ropes decorated your knuckles, making you giggle. You removed your hand, shaking it for a moment before retrieving a towel. Cleaning your hand and doing the same with Jean. Letting him collect his thoughts. 

It wasn’t long before he was staring at you. You smiled at him sweetly, “Finally able to think?” 

“What are you going to do with that video?” 

You sat on your coffee table, “I honestly didn’t think your dick was going to be that big.” You stated, ignoring Jean’s question. You pressed your hand to your lower stomach, “I wonder how deep you would be of me?” 

Jean thickly swallowed, closing his eyes. Trying to hide the fact that they were rolling back at the thought of being deep inside you. “Y/n, seriously. Don’t–” 

“I don’t know yet.” You responded, finally answering his question. You looked at your nails, “We’ll see.” You flashed him a kind smile. Your eyes widened, like you remembered something. Your hand went into your shirt, reaching inside your bra and pulling something out. A ring. You purity ring. “Here.” You tossed it at Jean, “It’s a little gift I give everyone I mess with.” You had a whole pack of them, it was a prank gift from Mikasa. You tilted your head, “It’s cute right, a little purity ring.” 

Jean’s eyebrows came together, showing his confusion. Everyone you mess with? Don’t tell me.. Jean could feel himself mentally groan. “Don’t tell me–”

“You’re kinda an idiot.” You voiced, smiling at him cheekily. “But, everyone falls for what they want to believe.” 

Jean sighed, slipping the ring over his pinkie. It was probably the only finger it could fit, even then– it didn’t even pass the joint. “Love it.” He said sarcastically. His eyes moved to you, “What now?” 

You looked up, “Maybe, apologize to Mikasa.” You pressed your lips together, “And, go tell the dean about Annie.” You nodded to yourself, that was the plan.

Jean looked to the side, “She doesn't want to hear from me.” He also followed it by, “I will.”

“Just say sorry,” You groaned, “I literally wouldn’t hate you so much if you apologized.” 

“You hate me?” Jean teased. 

“I’ve told you a thousand times.” You playfully rolled your eyes, “But, yes. I hate you.” Jean smiled, biting the inside of his cheek and looking away. You couldn’t help but laugh, pushing yourself off the wall and wrapping your arms around his neck. “But, isn’t this how it works, Babe?” You told him, “You leave before I wake up, or something.” 

“Yeah, but I don’t think you’re sleeping.” 

Your eyebrows raised, “Or, don’t tell me..” You pressed your hand over his heart, “You actually want to stay with me.” You cooed. 

Jean stayed quiet, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. You didn’t miss how his hand wrapped around your waist. “Of course not, I’m so ready to leave.”

Your eyes widened for a second. You sighed, “Good.” You whispered, “I’ll text you.” You scrunch your nose, “Maybe.” You didn’t want to make any promises. 

Jean smiled, “Okay.” 

You couldn’t say things turned out the way you planned. “You know,” You said, pushing yourself away from him. However, still standing close. “I’m thinking about leaking the video of you cumming.” You pressed your finger against his lips. Watching as his eyebrows mushed together for a moment, about to speak when you cut him off. “Do you still want me to text you?" It was a trick question. Of course you weren’t gonna leak the goddamn video. You weren’t crazy.

Jean’s eyes moved up, and down your face. “Yes.” He hesitated, but answered nonetheless. “I don’t want you to be my karma.” 

Your eyes widened at his response. Caught off guard, “I can’t promise you anything, though.” 

“I don’t care.” Jean pushed his head in your neck, pulling you closer to him. “This is good for now.” 

You laughed, placing your hand on your face. You sighed again, “I hate you.”

Jean kissed your neck, “Perfect, wouldn’t want it any other way.” 

You let your head fall on him, “Actually, if we go to the dean right now, and tell him what happened. I’ll ride you.” You cooed.

Jean sprung out of the bed, wrestling to put on his pants. “Fuck, I’ve been dying to tell the dean the shit I know. Get your ass out of bed, and watch me.” He glared at you, “I don’t care if he tries to blame me, at least I tried.”

“But, aren’t you scared?” You asked. “What if no one’s believes you?”

“No.” Jean softly replied, “I know that someone believes me. And at least— I helped with closure.”

You smiled fondly. “Good.”

Jesus fuck, Mikasa was going to kill you. 

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

[cultofdionysusnet]

Library of Illusion Event Masterlist

Welcome to the Library!

Take your time browsing each section and perhaps you'll find a story that strikes your interests! We have a few genres to choose from and several writers including @sanjoongie @anyamaris @thelargefrye @kwanisms @kpop-stories-21 @stardragongalaxy & @mint-yooxgi!

And don't forget to check the return cart in the lobby for books that haven't made it back to their shelves! Just make sure to take care and tread lightly in the Restricted Section, you may come across a few books that aren't for the faint hearted.

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[merlinrarepairfest]

Title: Merlin's knight in muddy armour. AO3 username: ohmerthurcharm | @oh-merthur-charm Rating: Mature Warnings: Angst Medium/Word Count: 1,244 Pairing/main characters: Gwaine/Merlin Up to 10 tags: Merlin's magic revealed, angst, kissing, crying, escape, bathing/washing, affection, hopeful ending.

Summary:

Arthur is saved by Merlin publicly just before he gets seriously injured. The problem? His magic was revealed by his daring attempt in saving his King's life. Now he is on the run, with two pairs of footprints being tracked by the King and his men. Merlin has help and it is Sir Gwaine himself. Prompt: Gwaine has always been Merlin’s knight. By: HadrianPeverellBlack. This is for the Rare pair fest 2024.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60070792

[rsbigbang]

R/S Big Bang Fic & Art: Nothing in Particular (M)

Title: Nothing in Particular

Author: purpledinosaurss

Artist: tofulover

Beta Reader: @daydreaminlee

Summary: Auror's Headquarters, November 1st, 1981. In one interrogation room sits a bored Remus Lupin; in another, an irritated Sirius Black. Just earlier that day, the duo and four other rogues (identified by security as James Potter, Lily Evans, Peter Pettigrew and Regulus Black) have turned up at the doors of the Ministry of Magic with a dead body and five destroyed horcruxes. The Wizarding World is on a cliff's edge, and Auror Alastor Moody has two simple instructions: find out what happened to Voldemort, and get the suspects to say who killed Orion Black.

read on ao3!