#ryusei

He’s crazy. Asking if you’d mind if he invited his buddy Sae to join—as if that’s just something you ask. He can’t see you as much more than a football the way he wants to pass you around.

Honestly, he’s the worst, and so, no matter how good he fucks you, you never stay the night. Both on principle and survival instinct. Getting familiar with a wild animal will only get you hurt in the end, after all.

And so, you pick your underwear up from the floor.

“What’s the rush?” he asks groggily. Hair down, messy and heavy with sweat, naked still, and glistening in the afterglow.

You pull your bottoms on and then proceed to gather your things. Answering unsympathetically, “I got work in the morning.”

“Boo.” He rolls over until he’s lying across the bed, his head falling over the edge, looking at you upside down where you walk around trying to undo his handiwork. “Just quit and become my sex slave.”

You crack a small laugh, “Psh, what’re the benefits?”

He rolls over onto his stomach, propping his head up under a hand. “Health care, housing, meals, endless shopping trips, oh, and fucking me, of course.” He smiles with a bite to his lip.

You try your best to deadpan when looking at him, but can’t help your lips curling into a smile. 

“You’re silly,” is still all you say, continuing to collect your things. When he undressed you earlier, he somehow managed to throw things into every corner of the room. Maniac.

“Come on,” he drawls, once again rolling over—not about to tell you that he made sure to fling your pants under the bed. “Stay for round two, and I’ll fuck yah so hard you won’t even be able to leave.”

You just sigh, “I told you, I got work.”

“I’ll drive you in the morning,” he insists.

And so do you with another excuse, “I don’t have anything to wear.”

“Then quit,” he repeats—voice a little curt this time.

You look up from your search and see his upset pout—looking like a kid who’s been told no. 

“You said that already,” you say softly, coming over to ruffle his unkempt hair.

“And I meant it,” he persists, taking your hand and pulling you down into the bed again, making sure to trap you by maneuvering himself on top before you had any chance of escaping. 

He kisses your neck, burying his face there with a groan. “Fucking you before practice makes me feel invincible. Sex with you is like my good luck charm. When I don’t get it, it’s like I forget how to kick the ball—”

“You’re such a drama queen,” you laugh and roll your eyes.

“I’m being serious. I mean…” His voice turns soft then, and he nuzzles his face deeper into your neck, making his words come out muffled, “We don’t have to fuck if you don’t want to. But at least spend the night… for once.”

The tips of his ears are bright red. You’re not entirely sure what to make of it, but you’d have to have nerves of steel to say no a third time.

Wrapping his head in your hands, you pet his hair and kiss his crown.

“Okay, you win, Ryu. I’ll stay.”

you should probably get in there and help with the breakfast. but you don't. cause this is already what a mother wishes. minami was 8, four years older than mika. both had inherited the chaos from their papa.

"watch," your husband, shidou ryusei, says confidently as he flips the pancake...perhaps with a little too much force that it gets stuck on the ceiling. again. he looks at you sheepishly. and maybe now you take over so that no one stays hungry.

breakfast was chaotic as ever, with the girls putting extra syrup in their pancakes. one look from you and your husband takes the syrup bottles and places it on the very top of the fridge, earning whinings from the two gremlins.

ryusei had gotten better at braiding the daughters' hair. so you're free to get yourself ready at mornings.

dropping them to school wasn't too hectic, as minami would take her role as the responsible older sister. they'd hold hands, walking in the school building.

"so...are we ever gonna get alone time?" your husband tries, placing his hand on your thigh while he drives. it was almost sad. but he knew better.

"gonna stay overtime at the clinic today," you say, "new interns today."

"tsk. cons of having a doctor wife," but he wouldn't trade it for anything else.

"hey..." you hold his hand when finally reached your clinic. hopeful as ever, he squeezes your hand, "order pizza today. no extra cheese, minami hates it. more toppings but no olives. they'd go to waste, the girls would just throw it away or make you eat it. help them with the worksheets and no mess when i come back ok?" you already start unbuckling the seat belt but your hubby holds you back.

"baby..." he calls lowly.

you give in. ofcourse you do. it was supposed to be a goodbye kiss. a peck. the moment you feel him bite your bottom lip, you part, "ryu."

"alright alright. i apologise."

you smile, giving him one last peck before getting out.

the girls were halfway done with the worksheets with the help of their papa when pizza arrives. so obviously, the homework is forgotten. but pizza wasn't enough, and the trio decided to go shopping. groceries and snacks.

mika sat on her papa's shoulders as he pushed the cart while minami held the shopping list, putting the necessities in.

"not on my watch, gremlin," ryu stops minami when she tries to put a whole pack of candies in the cart, "that's not on the list."

but who was he to deny those puppy eyes?

it was late when you were back home, greeted with a crying mika. you crouched down to her, asking whats wrong. she couldn't form a sentence, simply dragging you in. there you find another crying gremlin while your husband was trying to get them to calm down.

"what happened...?" you ask softly.

ryusei tells you that he accidentally burnt his finger while cooking spaghetti. and the girls won't stop crying cause they couldn't bear seeing their papa hurt. even tho ryu said he's fine multiple times.

"m-mama..." mika cries, telling you how she kissed the boo boo so many times and still the burn mark won't go away.

"mama do something...!" minami sobs, still in her papa's embrace.

you exhale, smiling. and ryu couldn't help but to grin too.

after tending to his burn, you put your hands on your hips.

oh no.

that's no good.

"when i walked in, the living room had worksheets all over the place. is the homework done or no?"

the three don't say anything, obviously nothing else was scarier than you at the moment.

you wanted to scold them. you really did. but then you could sense something from the kitchen, "...you three...did you turn off the stove?"

oh.

"shidou ryusei, you're eating burnt spaghetti for dinner tonight," you joke ofcourse. you're not that evil. or are you?

putting the girls to sleep wasn't hectic today. they were already exhausted with all that crying. they made sure they got kissys from you and their papa which they rightfully deserved.

"goodnight gremlins," ryusei finally turns off the lights, closing the door. and immediately pinning you to the wall.

"you know what this means, wifey."

that means to sleep without a care in the world. get your mind out of the gutter. you both are too tired to do anything other than go off to the dreamland.

but then your eyes shot open.

the thing about being coupled up with itoshi sae is that it doesn’t look like love, not the way it does for the other islanders. there’s no over-the-top pda by the pool, no dramatic speeches at the firepit, no cheesy inside jokes that the whole villa can hear. sae doesn’t hold your hand just to hold it, doesn’t snake an arm around your waist unless he has to, and he never kisses you simply for the camera’s sake. from the outside, it almost seems like he doesn’t care—like he’s only here because the rules say he has to be. and maybe that’s why the others don’t get it, why they sometimes whisper about you when you’re not around. “how can she put up with that?” they say, as if your coupling is a dull, loveless arrangement. but you know better. sae isn’t like the others. he doesn’t need to prove anything to anyone. his affection isn’t for show; it’s not loud or flashy or performative. it’s quiet. understated. meant only for you.

you see it in the little ways—the way he always waits for you when the group heads to a challenge, trailing at your side without being asked. the way he always keeps your bed space neat, your water bottle full, your pillow on his side so that you don’t have to scramble for it when the lights go out. when you make coffee in the morning, he doesn’t say thank you, but he drinks it without complaint even if it’s too sweet or too bitter. when you’re cold by the firepit, he doesn’t drape an arm around you for everyone to see—he simply shifts closer, letting the heat of his body soak into yours like it’s the most natural thing in the world. sae doesn’t perform love. he just does it, in quiet movements that you’ve learned to recognize, gestures that are his version of devotion.

of course, there’s a sharpness to it too. sae isn’t easy. he isn’t warm. his loyalty doesn’t come wrapped in pretty words, and it doesn’t come with the softness you sometimes wish for. instead, it comes with blunt honesty and that possessive edge he can’t quite hide. the first time one of the other boys tried to graft with you, sae didn’t cause a scene. he didn’t storm off, didn’t make a jealous speech. he just fixed the boy with a stare so sharp, so cutting, that it killed the conversation before it could even begin. “go talk to someone else,” he’d said, flat and calm, like it was a simple fact. and then, turning to you, he’d added just one more line, low and quiet, meant for your ears alone: “don’t waste your time.” it wasn’t romantic, not in the way you might have imagined, but your heart had raced all the same. because under all that ice, under all that control, was the bare truth: sae didn’t want to share you with anyone.

he never says it outright, but you’ve learned to read between the lines. when he tells you “don’t talk to him,” what he means is “i don’t like seeing his eyes on you.” when he mutters “you’re wasting your energy,” what he means is “i want your energy on me.” sae’s words might come off as cold, dismissive even, but you’ve learned to decode them, to see the possessiveness that pulses beneath. he’s loyal, yes, but it’s not a gentle loyalty. it’s sharp, cutting, sometimes suffocating. and yet, you don’t doubt it. sae itoshi doesn’t play games. if he didn’t want to be with you, he wouldn’t be.  

that’s the one thing that keeps you steady in this villa, even when people whisper behind their water bottles about how “cold” he seems or how “closed off” he is. you know better. sae doesn’t waste his time on things he doesn’t want. and right now, he’s with you. it’s not roses and fireworks and pillow talk the way it is for other couples, but it’s real—solid in a way that makes you feel safe, untouchable. nights spent side by side, ankles brushing under the duvet, his steady presence keeping you grounded when the villa gets too loud. mornings where he wordlessly hands you the first slice of toast, his way of making sure you eat before he does. little things, quiet things, sae things.

and for a while, everything’s going well. the others tease, asking if you’re ever going to pull a “big romantic gesture,” and sae just raises an eyebrow, bored, before returning to his orange juice. you laugh it off because you don’t need him to prove anything to anyone else. you know where you stand. 

the villa has settled into its rhythm—lazy afternoons by the pool, stolen moments at the firepit, harmless banter between challenges. you’ve started to believe that maybe, just maybe, you’ll coast through this whole thing with no surprises.

until the phone goes off.

the sharp trill cuts through the villa’s easy chatter, followed by the inevitable chorus of voices: “i got a text!” everyone scrambles, the group gathering in a tight circle to hear what’s written. you lean forward, curious but not anxious—at least until the words are read aloud.

"islanders, please welcome a new bombshell to the villa. #headturner #troubleincoming"

immediately, the air shifts. the safe, settled energy evaporates, replaced by buzzing nerves and wide-eyed excitement. the girls start fixing their hair in the reflection of their phone screens; the boys exchange looks, already sizing up invisible competition.

your stomach twists. new bombshells mean one thing: temptation. tests. disruption. and though you know sae doesn’t play games, doesn’t chase drama, doesn’t care about anyone else in this villa but you, there’s a flicker of unease you can’t quite smother.

he must sense it, because his hand brushes against yours—a small, subtle gesture, his version of reassurance. his expression doesn’t change, though; he looks just as calm, just as bored as always, like none of this matters.

“don’t look like that,” he mutters under his breath, so low only you can hear. “whoever it is won’t change anything.”

and you want to believe him. you do. but as the villa doors swing open and the new bombshell steps in, all confident smirks and chaos energy, you can’t shake the feeling that something’s about to crack wide open.

shidou walks in like he owns the villa—cocky, flirty, loud, the kind of energy that crashes into the space and rearranges it completely. the air, moments ago lazy and sun-drenched, tightens instantly. the chatter dies down, laughter fading into sharp gasps and squeals that ripple across the firepit circle.

“no way—” one of the girls blurts, eyes wide and practically glowing. “that’s him. that’s shidou. he was on last season.”

at once, the villa explodes into whispers, voices tumbling over each other in excitement. some of the boys stiffen, sizing him up with thinly veiled hostility, while the others lean forward, grinning, already hungry for the chaos they know is coming. because everyone remembers shidou ryusei. he’s not just a new bombshell—he’s the bombshell, a name the villa still hasn’t forgotten. the headlines, the shouting matches, the smirking confessionals that broke the internet. he wasn’t just a contestant; he was a storm that left wreckage in his wake. and now he’s back.

“villa’s been boring without me, huh?” he calls out, grin wide, teeth glinting in the sun. his voice cuts through the buzz, shameless and arrogant, perfectly matching the way he carries himself—like the villa itself is just a stage, and he’s the headliner returning for an encore.

he doesn’t just walk in; he prowls. shirt unbuttoned halfway, gold chains catching the light, hair deliberately tousled in that reckless way. he looks like trouble, like temptation dressed up in human form. the girls are giggling behind their hands, nudging each other, while the boys are bristling, their jaws tight, eyes narrowed. it’s as though the air itself has charged with electricity, every gaze following him as he comes to a stop in the center of it all.

“name’s shidou ryusei,” he says, throwing the introduction out like a challenge instead of a courtesy. “you’ve probably heard it before. and if you haven’t…” his smirk widens, a blade glinting under sunlight. “…you will.”

there are groans and cheers in equal measure, half the villa already entertained, the other half already irritated. but it doesn’t matter. shidou thrives on the split. in fact, he looks like he wouldn’t have it any other way.

and then his eyes find you.

the smirk that had been painted lazily across his face twists into something sharper, more deliberate, as if he’s discovered his next target. he doesn’t say a word—doesn’t need to. his stare lingers, hot and unflinching, dragging over you with a weight that makes your stomach flip despite yourself. it’s the kind of look that feels like he knows something you don’t, like he’s already plotted a story with you at the center.

he holds it, just long enough to make your skin prickle, before finally looking away. but the silence he leaves behind is louder than any of his words.

and beside you, sae doesn’t move. he doesn’t frown or scowl or twitch an inch. but you can feel it, the tension pouring off him like a storm cloud ready to burst. his jaw is set, his posture too still, his eyes fixed on the bombshell who just walked in and tilted your whole world off balance.

for the first time since coupling up, you realize: this villa is about to get dangerous.

“can i pull you for a chat?”

the words are barely out of shidou’s mouth before the villa erupts into a chorus of knowing laughs and whistles. everyone loves it — the boldness, the chaos, the sheer inevitability of it. no one says no to the bombshell, not when he’s smiling like that, sharp and dazzling, as if the world itself bends to his grin.

you hesitate, only for a breath. then you nod, polite, because saying no would feel too pointed, too much like a scene. and you don’t want a scene. not with the whole villa watching. not with sae watching.

“don’t worry,” shidou says, low enough that only you catch it as he guides you away, “i won’t bite.” he flashes a grin that suggests the opposite.

the two of you settle on the daybeds, the chatter of the villa still humming faintly behind you. shidou sprawls back like he owns the space, one arm draped lazily across the cushions, legs spread wide. he radiates ease, his posture a statement that he doesn’t need to try — people come to him.

“so,” he drawls, head tilting toward you, “what’s your deal, gorgeous? already coupled up?”

“i am,” you say evenly, tucking your legs under yourself. “with sae.”

“sae, huh?” his mouth curls around the name like it’s a toy, something to play with. “the ice prince himself.” he chuckles, eyes glinting. “should’ve guessed.”

you raise a brow. “guessed what?”

“that he’d pick the prettiest girl in the villa and then not know what to do with her.”

you laugh, a short surprised sound, because his delivery is ridiculous — cocky, outrageous, so unlike the dry, clipped remarks you’ve grown used to from sae. shidou leans into the sound immediately, grinning like he’s won something.

“ah, there it is,” he says, tapping a finger against his chin like he’s cataloguing a rare find. “that laugh. bet sae doesn’t get that out of you much.”

“you don’t know what you’re talking about.” you shake your head, but you’re smiling despite yourself, because there’s something infectious about his energy. he’s magnetic in the way a wildfire is — too bright, too fast, a little dangerous.

the conversation spins easily after that, shidou tossing out ridiculous comments that toe the line between charming and offensive, you batting them back with half-exasperated, half-amused retorts. he tells stories — wild, exaggerated tales from his last season in the villa — and you can’t help it, you laugh. more than once. more than you should.

and from across the villa, sae clocks every single one.

he’s sitting by the firepit, posture deceptively relaxed, but his eyes are sharp, fixed on you like a hawk. he doesn’t move, doesn’t fidget, doesn’t interrupt, but the tension radiates from him so thickly that the others shift uncomfortably around him. his jaw ticks when you laugh again, brighter, looser than you usually do in this place.

“he’s gonna kill him,” one of the boys mutters under his breath, half-joking, half-dead serious.

but sae doesn’t speak. he doesn’t storm over. he doesn’t make a scene. that’s not his way. instead, he watches, silent and unyielding, as shidou leans closer to you, flashing teeth in another grin.

“you’re fun,” shidou says suddenly, cutting through your laughter. his voice drops, lower, more deliberate. “you don’t look at me like i’m crazy.”

“that’s because i already know you’re crazy,” you shoot back, rolling your eyes.

his laugh is loud, unrestrained, the kind that makes heads turn. “see? that’s what i like. you get it.” his gaze sharpens, a dangerous flicker of intent underneath the levity. “i can see why sae’s clinging to you so tight.”

you freeze for just a moment, caught by the edge in his tone. “he’s not—”

“oh, but he is,” shidou cuts in smoothly. “look at him.” he jerks his chin subtly toward the firepit. against your better judgment, you glance over.

and there he is. sae. unmoving, unreadable, but watching you with a stare so sharp it pins you in place. the kind of stare that makes your pulse stutter. the kind of stare that says mine without a single word.

heat rushes to your face, and you whip your gaze back to shidou, who is grinning like a cat.

“told you,” he says lightly, almost sing-song. “he’s pissed. he’s gonna sit there and stew and you’re gonna keep laughing at my jokes, and it’s gonna drive him insane. kind of fun, isn’t it?”

you want to deny it. you want to tell him to shut up, to stop making this into something bigger than it is. but your throat feels dry, your mind a jumble, and instead you laugh again, a nervous little sound that betrays you.

shidou leans back, satisfied, his smirk curling like smoke.

across the villa, sae’s fingers tighten against his knees, knuckles blanching white. he doesn’t move. he doesn’t speak. but the storm is brewing, and everyone can feel it.

it’s late. the villa’s quieter now, most of the islanders tucked away in their daybeds, chatter thinning into background noise. sae’s by the outdoor kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water, movements precise, almost mechanical. that’s when he hears it — the heavy, careless footsteps.

“yo.”

shidou. of course.

he leans against the counter like he owns it, grin plastered wide across his face, watching sae with bright, dangerous eyes.

“not in the mood,” sae mutters without looking up, already turning to walk away.

but shidou blocks him, stepping into his path with all the subtlety of a brick wall. “nah, nah, don’t be like that. we barely know each other. thought we could have a man-to-man chat.”

sae’s jaw ticks. “i’m not interested.”

shidou laughs, low and unbothered, and tilts his head. “see, that’s the thing. i don’t need you to be interested. i just need you to listen.”

his grin sharpens, teeth flashing as he leans in. “c’mon, we can share, yeah? no harm in a little fun.”

the words are the same as before, but heavier now, no audience to soften them into a joke. he says them slow, deliberate, like he’s savoring the taste of the provocation.

sae’s eyes lift at last, dark and flat. “you’re pathetic.”

shidou only laughs harder, throwing his head back. “pathetic? nah. i’m real. and real recognizes real, itoshi. she’s gorgeous. magnetic. she laughed with me. don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”

“i noticed,” sae replies, voice like ice splintering. his shoulders are squared, every line of his body wound tight, but his face stays composed, blank in a way that’s somehow more dangerous than anger. “i notice everything.”

shidou steps closer, crowding his space, eyes glittering with reckless amusement. “so what’s the problem then? you know she likes me. you can feel it. i could take her off your hands, make her laugh a little more, shake her up. you keep playing the cold boyfriend act, and she’s gonna get bored, man.”

the silence that follows is suffocating.

then sae speaks, quiet, controlled. “touch her, and you’re done.”

shidou pauses. for the first time all night, his grin falters just a fraction. but it’s back in a heartbeat, sharper, almost feral.

“ohhh,” he drawls, stepping back half a pace, like he’s just tasted something addictive. “there it is. you do have teeth. i was wondering.”

sae doesn’t answer. he doesn’t need to. his glare says enough — a warning carved into stone.

shidou laughs again, wild and unbothered, retreating with his hands raised like mock surrender. “fine, fine. but don’t get too comfortable, prince. this villa? it’s a game. and i love games.”

he saunters off, humming to himself, leaving the air crackling in his absence. sae stays where he is, still and silent, water untouched in his glass — jaw tight, chest rising slow, steady.

because for the first time since walking into the villa, someone’s managed to crawl under his skin.

and he hates it.

later, when you find him, he’s sitting on the edge of one of the daybeds, the cushions dipped beneath his weight, elbows balanced on his knees. the villa’s pool glows a hazy turquoise under the night lights, ripples scattering pale reflections across his face, carving shadows under his eyes. from a distance, he looks like a statue: unmoving, untouchable, set apart.

but you know him too well. you see the tension in the lines of his shoulders, the way his fingers twitch against his knees like he’s holding something back.

“there you are,” you say softly, settling down beside him. the cushions dip again, shifting you both closer, and you reach for his hand without thinking.

only, he moves. just enough that your fingers brush empty air.

your chest pinches. “...sae?”

his jaw tightens once, and then his voice, quiet, almost too quiet: “you had fun today.”

it takes you a moment to register what he means. “what?”

he turns his head then, finally looking at you. his eyes aren’t burning, aren’t openly angry, but they’re sharp, dark, unreadable in that way of his. the kind of stare that cuts more than it speaks. “with him.”

“you mean shidou?” you blink, startled. “i was just being polite—”

“polite.” sae slices through the word like it’s bitter on his tongue. “you were laughing. i haven’t seen you laugh like that since we got here.”

the comment hits harder than it should. you blink again, defensive. “he’s outrageous, sae. that’s all it was. everyone laughs at him, it doesn’t mean anything.”

his silence presses on you like a hand to your chest.

you push, voice firmer. “it doesn’t.”

“doesn’t it?” he finally says, and the way he says it makes you stop cold. because it isn’t curiosity — it’s accusation.

you feel your pulse spike. “sae, you can’t be serious.”

he leans back slightly, gaze still locked on yours, and for once you wish he’d look away. “you think i didn’t notice? you leaned in. you smiled. you gave him exactly what he wanted.”

your stomach drops. “so what—what are you saying? that i was leading him on?”

his jaw works, the faintest grind of teeth. “i’m not accusing you. i’m telling you what i saw.”

that feels worse. because he isn’t yelling, he isn’t storming — he’s just stating it like fact. like there’s no room for your side.

“sae,” you breathe, shaking your head, “i don’t want him. i’m with you.”

he doesn’t blink. “and if he doesn’t care about that?”

“then you trust me,” you say, firmer now, willing him to believe you. “you trust me to shut it down if he pushes too far. you don’t pull away from me just because some bombshell wants attention.”

the air feels thick with the words you’re both not saying.

he doesn’t answer. his silence is louder than any fight, pressing down until your chest aches.

you reach again, desperate now, fingers brushing his, but his hands stay locked together, knuckles white against the cushion.

“sae.” your voice cracks in the middle, softer than you want it to be. “please don’t do this. don’t push me away over him.”

he exhales, a slow, measured breath, his gaze finally slipping from yours to the pool. the reflections flicker across his skin like fractured light.

“i don’t like games,” he says at last, voice low. “and he does. he’ll try to use you to get to me.”

your throat tightens. “then let him try. i’m not part of his game. i choose you.”

he shakes his head once, almost imperceptible, like he can’t believe you mean it. “maybe you’ll let him.”

the words hit like a slap.

you stare at him, chest hollow. “that’s not fair.”

for the first time, something flickers across his face — a flash of guilt, regret, something that looks almost human. but it’s gone in a blink, shuttered behind that unreadable mask.

“nothing about this villa is fair,” he mutters.

and then he stands.

just like that, he’s gone, leaving you sitting on the daybed alone, cushions still warm where he was.

you sit frozen, staring at the glow of the pool, at your own reflection fractured across the water’s restless surface.

he doesn’t see what you see. doesn’t feel what you feel. you’ve chosen him — cold, difficult, complicated as he is — but all he can see is shidou’s grin and the sound of your laughter that didn’t belong to him.

and you’re left wondering how long before that seed of doubt he’s clutching so tightly will grow into something bigger.

something that could split you in two.