Chapter two: Don’t look at me like that
FIC I have the honor of writing for the amazing (https://janitorai.com/profiles/d59f2db8-1406-4321-9924-43ff199a9569_profile-of-nikushxmi) This chapter is based on this bot of hers (https://janitorai.com/characters/21dba792-f150-4026-b28d-ba9c8d0cabd6_character-kieran-hale) (THIS IMAGE BELONGS TO THE OWNERS ITS HERE AS A WAY TO TELL THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE BOYS IN EACH CHAPTER. LEFT BEING KIERAN AND RIGHT BEING RONAN)
I attempted to change up the "she" to "you" for this chapter because I wasn't sure if reader should be assumed to be a female when you guys are the readers!!! 😭😭🙏🙏
The night didn’t end the way you thought it would.
After the blowout with Kieran, {{reader}} left his apartment without a jacket, barely remembering to grab your phone. Her chest was still tight, throat raw from yelling, and your skin felt like it was buzzing with leftover tension. you hated how fast things turned with Kieran—how tender moments turned sour, how soft touches became claws the second you tried to breathe without him.
So, you did what you always did when you didn’t want to think. you went out.
The club was loud, dimly lit, and vibrating with music. The bass hit like a second heartbeat, and {{reader}} drank until your stomach stopped twisting. Until your fingers stopped trembling. Until you forgot the way Kieran had begged you to stay.
you didn’t expect to see Ronan there.
He wasn’t the type to be caught under strobe lights or pulsing beats. He was more shadow than sound—more stillness than movement. But there he was, leaning against the bar, a glass in his hand and his eyes already on you.
you hesitated. Not because you were surprised to see him—but because of the way he looked at you. Steady. Dark. Like he already knew everything that happened.
you didn’t get the chance to decide what to do next, because some asshole brushed behind you—hands lingering a second too long at your waist. you spun around, a sharp word on your tongue—but Ronan was already moving.
you didn’t see the whole thing.
Just the beginning: Ronan disappearing out the back door with the guy, all quiet fury and clenched fists.
He was walking out of the alley, knuckles bruised and blood drying on his lip. He looked calm. Like he’d just taken a breath, not just broken someone’s face.
You stood there, your stomach twisted. you should’ve said something. Should’ve asked if he was okay. But Ronan was already close, pulling you in with a slow, lazy grin like you weren’t both pretending something dangerous hadn’t just happened.
"What’re you doing out here, huh?" he asked, wrapping an arm around Your waist.
His voice was smooth, light. For anyone else, it might’ve worked. But {{reader}} saw the way his jaw ticked. you felt the tension in his hand.
you opened your mouth, but before you could answer, his body stilled. Kieran.
He was walking past the alley, not looking at them, hoodie up, hands shoved deep in his pockets. His walk was stiff, purposeful. Like he’d seen enough. Like he didn’t want to see more.
Ronan’s hand tightened slightly on your hip. His mouth found your neck in a way that made your breath catch.
"Did you argue with my lil’ brother again?"
His thumb slid under your shirt without thinking. The touch was slow. Familiar.
His hand moved to your shoulder instead, pulling you close like a friend, like a brother might. Like he hadn’t just marked you with his touch.
"C’mon, sweetheart. What happened with Kieran this time?"
you couldn’t answer. Not with your head this messy. Not with your chest tight from guilt and confusion and the memory of Kieran’s voice in your ear asking you to stay.
Instead, you let Ronan lead you back inside. The music was louder now. The lights lower. you could lose yourself in this if you wanted to. you could forget.
you didn’t know who leaned in first.
One minute, they were just standing near the edge of the dance floor. The next, his hands were on your waist, and your body was moving with his, pressed together like you and him were one thought away from burning.
It was subtle at first. Ronan was always careful. Always calm.
But then your hips rolled a little slower. His fingers gripped a little tighter. And the space between you and him disappeared.
He wasn’t smiling anymore.
His hand dragged down your spine, fingers splaying across the base of your back as your hips moved in sync, as the beat pushed you and him closer, sweat-slicked and drunk on proximity.
You turned in his grip, your back pressing to his front. you felt his breath catch—just for a second—before his hands found your hips again, dragging you against him, following your rhythm without hesitation.
His mouth brushed your shoulder. His hand moved under your shirt again, not careful this time. Not thinking.
you arched into him like you needed it, like his touch was the only thing keeping you upright.. and maybe it was.
Every movement said what they wouldn’t. Every grind, every hand slip, every breath was a confession.
And when he finally leaned down, his lips ghosting just behind her ear, he didn’t say anything for a long time.
Then: "You sure you wanna keep doing this?"
You didn’t have to... Ronan pulled away on his own raffling your hair with a grunt.
"get home, its late" was the last thing he said before he walked away.
