#EXACTLY! EX ACT LY | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

itneverendshere · 3 days ago

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LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - EIGHT

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mentions of pregnancy; abortion.

MASTERLIST

Topper prided himself in keeping out of people’s business.

He hadn’t noticed anything was off with you on his own, he wouldn’t have; he didn’t do the whole “emotional radar” thing.

But Rafe had practically cornered him, demanding he figure out what was going on with you.

You were his cousin, after all.

That didn’t stop the way his stomach twisted from thinking about lying to you, or how every part of him had always silently rooted for you and Rafe. He’d loved seeing you two together. You were a mess most days, for years, sure, but it was the kind of mess that made sense in a way, and Topper couldn’t help but admire it.

You were like fire and gasoline.

But that was before the break-up, before everything got fucked.

Now, you were just… distant. He never knew how to approach you without feeling like he was crossing a line, but the way you’d passed out on Rafe at the beach had him worrying in a way that was more personal than he wanted to admit.

He wasn’t a thinker, not really, he liked simple things: good waves, cold beer, and not getting roped into drama.

But there he was, standing outside your door with Korean fried chicken. He didn’t do feelings, and he didn’t do heavy conversations. Rafe owed him big for this. The conversation had been good, even when you started talking about Sarah and Ruthie.

Topper was all in—laughing along, throwing in a dumb joke here and there, the usual. It felt nice, like when you were kids, sneaking your dad’s beers and pretending you weren’t gonna get caught.

But then he had to go and ruin it by asking if you were okay.

You went all stiff, then weirdly far away, laughing it off like he’d just asked you to explain calculus or something. You mumbled something about being fine and then bolted to the bathroom before he could even follow up with his usual Topper-brand wisdom.

He sat there, feeling uncomfortable, which wasn’t a thing he usually did. You were acting off, and it was messing with him more than he wanted to admit.

Finally, he decided he needed to move, so he got up to grab some water. Except, as he walked past the counter, his hip caught a pile of your mail, and an envelope went sliding to the floor.

“Crap,” he muttered, crouching to grab it. It was just some random envelope, but there was a phone number written on the front in messy blue ink.

Topper didn’t think about it—because thinking wasn’t really his strong suit—he just whipped out his phone and typed it in. Curiosity, man. It got him every time.

He hit call. He wasn’t trying to snoop or anything. It was just one of those things you do on autopilot, right? Call a number just to see who answers? Except this time, someone did answer.

The phone rang. Once. Twice. Then:

“Women’s Health Center, how can I help you?”

His brain short-circuited, full-on panic mode. He stared at the phone like it had grown a second screen, then frantically hit the hang-up button just as the bathroom door creaked open.

You were back.

Topper, sweating for no reason, slapped the envelope back on the counter like it was about to explode and turned to you with a smile that definitely didn’t match his pounding heart.

He got out of there as soon as possible, as he drove to meet Rafe, the whole thing was still playing on a loop in his head. That phone number, the voice on the other end of the line, the way you’d acted when he’d asked if you were okay—he couldn’t stop trying to force the pieces into place.

Something was going on, he wasn't sure what, and he wasn’t exactly the guy you went to for deep insights, but he felt something was up.

When he pulled into Tanyhill, he spotted Rafe leaning against his truck, scrolling through his phone with that permanent scowl he seemed to have these days. He barely had the car in park before Rafe was pushing off the truck and heading his way.

He climbed out, doing his best to act normal—which, for him, meant cracking the same goofy grin he always did. His mind was still spinning with a dozen half-formed thoughts about that phone call, that clinic, and how the the fuck he might fit into all of it.

The only thing he knew for sure was that Rafe knowing could be catastrophic. Like, meteor-hits-earth catastrophic.

“You gotta chill,” Topper said, slamming his car door shut and giving Rafe a once-over. “Why do you look like you’re about to punch somebody?”

Rafe just glared, shoving his phone in his pocket. “What’d you find out?”

He blinked, thrown by how fast he cut to the point. “Nice to see you, too. Second, what makes you think I found out anything?”

“Don’t fuck with me, Top. Did you figure it out or not?”

“Yeah, I figured it out,” Topper shot back, crossing his arms. “But why the hell did you make me go through all this work if you already know what’s going on?”

Rafe shrugged, leaning back against the truck like this was all just some casual conversation. “Didn’t think you’d actually get it, to be honest.”

“Bro, I’m not that stupid. How did you get to the bottom of this shit? I’m still confused as fuck over here.”

Rafe’s mouth twitched like he was deciding whether to smirk or yell, hesettled on neither. “She passed out on me, remember?”

“So?” Topper shot back, frowning. “I’ve seen you pass out for, like, way less.”

“It wasn’t the same. It wasn’t a hangover or heat stroke, it was different. And she’s been weird lately, avoiding everyone.” Rafe leaned back against his truck, arms crossed, talking fast. “The hospital did blood work.”

Topper, who’d been zoning out halfway through his little doctor act, suddenly perked up.

“Wow,” he mused, dragging the word out. “Okay. So, how’d you take the news? I mean, shit, you look pretty calm for once. Didn’t think that was in your wheelhouse."

Rafe frowned, his sharp blue eyes narrowing, the crease between his brows deepening like it always did when he thought someone was wasting his time.

"The fuck are you talking about?”

Topper shrugged like this was totally normal. “I just expected you to, like…freak out or somethin'. Throw a punch, maybe.”

“Throw a punch about what?” Rafe snapped.

“About—” Topper paused, squinting at Rafe like he was trying to solve a puzzle. “Wait. What are you supposed to do?”

Rafe’s hand twitched toward his jaw, fingers brushing over the stubble there, a telltale sign that he was gearing up to lose patience. He didn’t wait for Topper to answer before shaking his head, the movement quick and irritated.

“Don’t do that, man,” he added, pointing a finger “I’ll help her figure it out. What else can I do?”

Topper tilted his head, genuinely impressed. “Damn. You really matured, huh? I mean, good for you.”

“Top, what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Rafe demanded, his tone sharp now like he was finally catching on to the fact that they weren’t on the same page.

Topper blinked, “I’m just saying you’re handling it better than I thought. Especially since she’s not—uh, showing yet.”

“Not showing what?”

“…The bump?”

He immediately realized he’d said the wrong thing, or maybe the right thing, but in the wrong tone, with the wrong level of context, and—okay, maybe he should just stop talking.

Abort mission, abort mission. Topper immediately wanted to crawl into a hole. Dude, shut up, shut up, shut up.

“What the fuck?” Rafe’s voice cracked; his eyes blazing as he stepped closer. “What bump?!”

His laugh fizzled out under Rafe’s glare, it was starting to feel less like “concerned ex-boyfriend” and more like “interrogating cop.” He felt a bead of sweat slide down the back of his neck.

Cool. Stay cool.

“Wait,” Topper held his hands up, trying to physically stop the situation from spiraling. “What do you think is wrong with her?”

His brain was spinning in a way it wasn’t built for. He was a simple guy—he liked clear problems and easy fixes. But this? This was a category-five disaster, and he was stuck right in the middle of it.

Rafe let out a sharp breath through his nose, dragging a hand through his hair, the small strands sticking up in every direction.

“I think she’s got a fucking infection! Why the hell would I think she’s pregnant?”

Topper hesitated, glancing toward the house like maybe Sarah or Wheezie might miraculously appear to save him. No such luck.

“Well fucking shit,” Topper blurted, the words tumbling out in a rush. His heart was pounding, and he was pretty sure he’d just signed his death warrant. “I—I didn’t say she’s pregnant, okay? I found this number, and it was for a women’s health center, and—fuck, man, I’m dead. I’m so dead.”

Rafe grabbed him by the collar, yanking him close. “Start talking. Now.”

“I wasn’t snooping, okay? It just—happened. I wasn’t trying to get in her business, but—”

“But what?” Rafe barked. His other hand twitched at his side, curling into a fist before flexing out again, a warning of how close Topper was to eating pavement, but Rafe wasn’t the one he feared right now.

You were going to kill him.

He could already picture the look on your face when you found out—those cold, furious eyes, the way your voice would drop, he was officially dead meat. He gulped, his mouth dry as his brain scrambled for something—anything—that wouldn’t get him killed or disowned.

“You better explain what the fuck you mean by ‘happened,’” Rafe growled, his grip tightening, giving Topper’s collar a shake, just enough to make his point clear.

Topper was done, leaving nothing but pure panic and the faint, distant sound of his voice saying things he definitely shouldn’t.

“I called the number!” Topper yelped. “I didn’t even mean to, it was—dude, she’s gonna kill me, and I mean that literally. She will.”

“Not if I kill you first,” Rafe shoved him back, his grip finally loosening, his face unreadable now, which was somehow worse than when he’d looked ready to punch him. “You’re telling me you think she’s pregnant? And you didn’t remember to tell me sooner?”

“I didn’t!” Topper said quickly, panic bubbling over. “It’s not like she’s gonna tell me this kind of stuff.”

“Did she say anything to you? Anything about seeing a doctor or being sick?”

Topper shook his head so fast it made him dizzy. “I asked if she was okay, but she just brushed it off and changed the subject.”

The silence that followed was thick and suffocating, both of them staring each other down.

“No, no way. She’s probably… I don’t fucking know, changing her pill or something.”

Topper raised an eyebrow. “Changing her pill?”

“Yeah,” Rafe said quickly, “Or—what else do they do there? Those check-up things. Maybe she’s getting one of those.”

“Uh-huh,” Topper replied, not convinced but also not dumb enough to call him out on it outright. “Sure. Just a… routine check-up?”

“Exactly,” Rafe agreed a little too loud, his tone almost defensive as he started circling again, his hands gesturing wildly. “They don’t just deal with… y'know. They do all kinds of shit. Tests, prescriptions, all that stuff. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Topper scratched the back of his neck, his expression caught between agreement and unease. “I mean, yeah, they do other stuff… but don’t you think—”

“I don’t think anything, there’s nothing to think about. She’s fine. She’s—she’s fine.” He stopped pacing, standing rigid with his hands on his hips, glaring at the ground like it had personally offended him.

“Okay,” Topper started, his tone cautious. “I get that you don’t want to jump to conclusions, but—”

“I’m not jumping to conclusions!” Rafe barked, spinning around “You’re the one making it into something it’s not! She’s not—she wouldn’t—she hasn’t told me anything,” He muttered finally, “And if she’s hiding this… from me…”

He’d never seen Rafe like this—angry, yeah, but there was something else there, either way, it wasn’t good. His glare burned into him, but for the first time, there was hesitation behind it. He wasn’t just mad—he was scared. Topper couldn’t decide if that made him feel better or worse.

“Holy shit,” Rafe muttered, gripping the side of his truck for balance. His vision going fuzzy as his heart raced like he’d just sprinted a mile. “Holy shit, what if—what if she is?”

“Dude, breathe,” Topper said, stepping closer cautiously like Rafe was a live grenade. “You don’t even—”

“Even if—if—she was, how the hell would that even—” He cut himself off, his face twisting like he couldn’t decide whether to finish the thought or abandon it entirely.

Topper didn’t need him to finish, he understood exactly what Rafe was thinking. The timeline, the breakup, the way everything had gone down between you.

Rafe’s breath hitched as he let go of the truck and paced a few steps, his hands on his hips, muttering under his breath. “No. No way. It’s not—she’d tell me, right? She’d fucking tell me.”

Images started flashing through his mind in rapid succession, each one more ridiculous and unhinged than the last. You, standing in some clinic, staring at a test with a blank expression. You, trying to figure out how to tell Rafe.

You, holding a baby—Rafe’s baby—in your arms.

“This doesn’t make any sense. We were careful. She’s just stressed, girls go through shit. Hormones or whatever. Right?”

“You’re asking me? I barely passed bio. I’m not exactly a walking textbook on—” He stopped himself, seeing the look on Rafe’s face. “I don’t know what’s going on with her, okay? But if this is what I think it is, you gotta handle it right. Don’t screw it up more than it already is.”

“And if I don’t handle it right?”

Topper forced a shaky grin, even as his stomach twisted in knots.

“Then I guess I’ll see you in hell, man. Because she’s gonna kill us both.”

Rafe’s hands went to his hips, his thumb brushing the edge of his pocket as he stared past Topper, he was trying to work out an equation that wasn’t adding up.

“She hasn’t said a word to me,” Rafe muttered, “Not at the hospital, not since. And you think…” He trailed off, dragging a hand over his face.

Topper shifted on his feet, resisting the urge to bolt to the other side of the world.

“I guess, but I swear, it wasn’t on purpose.”

Rafe shot him a look, his brows knitting together, and Topper felt like he was under a microscope. “You called a random number. How does that ‘just happen’?”

He huffed, throwing his hands up. “I was grabbing some water, and her mail fell, and there was this number—I didn’t think! I just… acted.” He groaned, his head falling back as he stared at the sky. “I didn’t mean to put two and two together, but what was I supposed to do? You’re the one who made me go digging in the first place!”

“You really think that’s what’s going on?” Rafe asked finally, his voice quieter.

“You said she’s acting weird, and then there was that number, and…” He trailed off, scratching the back of his neck.

“Do you even understand what this means? If she’s—if there’s a—” He broke off, “I’d have to—Jesus Christ, what would I even do? I’m not—God.”

His hands gripped the edge of the truck bed so hard his knuckles turned white, the veins in his arms standing out as he glared at the ground like it had personally offended him.

“If she didn’t tell me—” His voice was low, quiet in a way that made Topper wince because he knew what came next.

“Maybe just... ask her?”

“Ask her?” he repeated, his voice disbelieving.

“Yeah, you know,” Topper said, gesturing vaguely. “Talk to her? Maybe find out what’s going on instead of losing your shit over worst-case scenarios?”

Rafe shook his head, “No. If she wanted me to know, she’d tell me. She’s... she’s dealing with her own stuff. It’s not my place to push.”

“Since when do you not push?”

“Since now,” Rafe snapped, though even he didn’t sound convinced.

“Rafe—”

“No, seriously,” Rafe interrupted, his voice rising now, the tight restraint unraveling with every word. “If she’s—if she’s going through this, if she’s pregnant, and she didn’t tell me?” He let out a bitter chuckle, “What the fuck does that say? About me.”

Topper opened his mouth, hesitated, then closed it again. This felt like a minefield, and if anyone was good at stepping on the wrong spot, it was him.

Rafe pushed off the truck, he couldn’t physically stay still. His eyes were burning as he raked a hand through his buzzed hair.

“I was—fuck. She thinks what? That I wouldn’t show up for this. She didn’t tell me because she doesn’t think I deserve to know.”

“That’s not true,” Topper said quickly, stepping closer, but Rafe’s empty laugh stopped him.

“Isn’t it?” Rafe’s voice was hollow now, all the fire drained out of him, turning his head slightly, just enough for Topper to see his throat working as he swallowed hard. “What the hell have I ever done to make her think I’d be there? That I’d—” He broke off. “Shit. I wouldn’t blame her. I can't even fucking blame her.”

“You still care about her, right?” Topper pressed, knowing he didn’t have to ask to know the answer.

Rafe’s head snapped up, “She’s the only thing I’ve ever cared about.”

He nodded slowly, “Then prove it.”

The envelope sat exactly where you’d left it, the faintest corner of folded. You froze for a second, your pulse quickening.

No. No way.

It was fine. Fine.

The number wasn’t even labeled—just digits scrawled hastily, you hadn’t touched it in days. Still, you couldn’t stop the tiny seed of panic attaching itself to your chest. There was absolutely no way Topper could’ve seen it, let alone put two and two together.

You exhaled slowly, placing it back on the counter.

He didn’t see it. He couldn’t have seen it.

Then why had he acted so… off? The pale face, the sudden excuse, the jittery energy—it was all so unlike him.

You shook your head, trying to push the thought away, a million things could’ve set him off.

Maybe Ruthie had texted him something awful, or maybe he’d remembered he had to pick up his dry cleaning before the shop closed. Knowing Topper, it was probably something stupid and unrelated to you entirely.

Still, the nagging lingered as you cleaned up the counter and threw away the napkins. You glanced at the envelope one last time, then slid it into a drawer and shut it firmly. Whatever was going on with your cousin, it couldn’t have anything to do with that. It was impossible. And yet…

You sighed, rubbing your temples.

“Pregnancy brain,” you muttered to yourself. “Making me paranoid over nothing.”

Of course that didn’t stop your heart from jumping every time the drawer creaked, or when you saw anything even remotely similar to that envelope’s color lying around the house for the entire night. Not that he’d ask, of course—Topper wasn’t the confrontational type, especially not with you. But he noticed things. And when he noticed, he worried.

The next morning you sank onto the couch, hugging a pillow to your chest. Topper was close, but he wasn’t like Sarah. She had been able to look you in the eye and say, You know I’m here, right? and mean it without any strings attached. Topper, though…

Your fingers itched toward your phone, even though it was stupid to call her so early over this. Still, you needed someone to remind you that you weren’t losing it, that Topper’s weirdness had nothing to do with anything serious.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you found Sarah’s number, pressing the call button. She picked up on the second ring, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

You could picture her, sitting in her car or probably stretched out somewhere in Poguelandia with her feet propped up on a table, looking concerned.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just…” You trailed off, fiddling with the edge of a pillow.

“Topper’s been acting strange. And I think I’m just overthinking it, but it’s making me crazy.”

She made a sound between a hum and a laugh. “So the Topper panic spiral. That’s what we’re dealing with?”

“Basically,” you muttered, trying to keep your tone light. “But this time… He was here last night, and I thought he saw this random piece of paper I had with, you know. A number on it.” You took a shaky breath, embarrassed for how paranoid you sounded. “But he couldn’t have, right? I mean, it was buried under five other things.”

“Okay,” Sarah said slowly, clearly choosing her words. “First, let’s just say that if he did see anything, which he probably didn’t, he wouldn’t assume the worst. He’s your cousin; he knows you don’t tell him everything, and he respects that. Right?”

“Yeah… I guess.” You chewed your lip, feeling a little stupid for even calling her. “But what if he does put it together, Sarah? I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

“He won’t,” she reassured, like she could see right through your anxiety. “And you don’t need to feel bad for wanting to keep this private. You’re allowed to handle it however you need to. You’re not doing anything wrong.”

You exhaled, the knot in your chest loosening a little. She always knew how to talk you down, "Okay,” you murmured, and a shaky laugh slipped out. “Maybe I'm being paranoid.”

“Pregnancy brain,” she teased, and you couldn’t help but smile.

You hung up feeling marginally better.

Sarah had a way of calming you down, but the uneasiness stayed with you, the way it always did when you couldn’t fully explain something.

But the relief was fleeting, by lunchtime, the nagging voice in your head was back. Topper wasn’t malicious, but he did have a habit of talking without thinking, and the last thing you needed was for this to get out before you were ready. Not only was this a huge scandal, but it was your business.

You busied yourself with small tasks—folding laundry, wiping down the counters, pretending that everything was fine. It wasn’t until almost noon that your phone rang. The hospital’s number flashed on the screen, and your stomach dropped.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Miss Thornton?” the voice on the other end asked politely, too polite for comfort.

“This is she."

“This is Linda from the hospital. I’m calling about your recent bloodwork. We had a bit of an issue with our system, and unfortunately, there was a delay in getting back to you. We also lost some patient information temporarily—”

“Wait, what?” you interrupted, not liking where this was going, “What do you mean you lost information?”

“Oh, nothing to worry about,” Linda said quickly, as if that would make you feel better. “We managed to recover most of it, but in the meantime, we had to rely on emergency contact information to reach out. Dr. Harris called yours last night.”

Your breath caught. “Called... my emergency contact?”

“Yes.”

“Sarah Cameron? She didn’t tell me someone called.”

“She’s not listed as your emergency contact in our system, Rafe Cameron is. It might be an older record?”

Fuck.

Your heart was in your throat. “What... what did he tell him?”

“He only left a generic message asking for you to follow up about your bloodwork. Nothing specific.”

“Nothing specific,” you repeated, more to yourself than to her. Relief and panic warred within you. If Rafe knew, he’d already be there, the night before, demanding answers. Right?

“We need you to come back in. It’s possible you may have an infection, and we need to run a few more tests.”

You didn’t even hear the rest of her explanation.

Your fingers felt numb as you mumbled something that vaguely resembled agreement and hung up.

Infection, that was what she’d said. That was all it was. Not… not anything else. If it were anything else, they wouldn’t have just called—they’d have told Rafe.

“Stop,” you muttered aloud, shaking your head. “Stop spiraling.”

But your brain wouldn’t listen.

“Generic message,” Linda had said, but did it sound generic? What did he think when he got it? Had he laughed it off, or was he running his stupid pristine bedroom, piecing together clues you hadn’t even realized you’d left?

You didn’t want to text Sarah again.

You could imagine her smirking, “I told you, he’s not going to magically grow psychic overnight.” Yeah, sure, but this was Rafe.

He didn’t need magic. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to focus on Sarah’s voice in your head. “You’re not doing anything wrong.”

Except it didn’t feel like that. You hadn’t thought about Rafe as your emergency contact in months, hadn’t needed to.

You sank into the couch, hugging your knees to your chest.

“This is so stupid,” you muttered, but your voice didn’t make it feel any less real. You weren’t even sure what you were spiraling over anymore. The envelope? The hospital? The baby?

“Okay,” you said out loud. “Okay, it’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

The sound of your voice didn’t even convince you. Your brain wouldn’t stop jumping from one thing to the next, spinning every scenario you didn’t want to think about.

What if he did know? If that was enough to set him off, to make him call someone, pull some strings...Shit, what if he did show up, and you had to explain why you were dodging everyone and keeping things from him and—stop.

Stop.

You were doing it again. The spiraling. The pregnancy brain Sarah teased you about like it was some sort of cute quirk, but wasn’t cute.

You sat up straight, squeezing the couch pillow so hard you thought it might burst. Breathe. Just breathe, you’d made it this far without imploding.

You glanced toward the drawer again, the one with the envelope. You should’ve burned it, shredded it first. No, you had to keep it—just in case. But just in case of what? Just in case you needed more reasons to feel like a lunatic.

Oh my god. What if Topper saw the stupid number, and then Rafe got the hospital call, and then—bam—suddenly, they had the whole damn thing figured out?

You could feel it already—the panic. You liked to think they were both too stupid for their own good, but they were also observant. Rafe, that bastard always knew how to put things together faster than anyone.

What if—what if it’s that simple for them? What if they both saw it, and then they were just sitting there, having some stupid-ass conversation, connecting dots you didn’t even realize were dots?

No. Stop. Stop thinking like that.

You were getting carried away, jumping to conclusions like some manic soap opera character. You weren’t that girl. Not really. But the thought of them talking—Topper with his concern and Rafe with his overbearing intensity.

Your fingers tapped a frantic rhythm against the pillow. The idea of him figuring it out? Oh, that made your skin crawl. Not because he’d be cruel—no, that wasn’t his style. He’d just be so… himself.

Overwhelming, determined to “fix” things for you, even when you didn’t ask for it.

You groaned, dropping the pillow and standing abruptly, like the movement might kill the growing dread. No, you told yourself firmly.

You weren’t spiraling over things that hadn’t even happened yet.

But the voice in your head, the one that always sounded a little too much like Rafe, had other plans: What if it’s already too late?

You paced the living room, arms crossed tightly over your chest. This was ridiculous, you were ridiculous. Nothing had happened, nothing was going to happen. The number wasn’t even that suspicious, it could’ve been anything.

You groaned again, flopping onto the couch like the dramatic mess you were currently embodying. Rafe had probably gotten the hospital call, rolled his eyes without a second thought, too busy with his new precious life.

Your stomach churned, and you pressed your hands against it instinctively. It wasn’t showing yet—thank god—but you couldn’t help the way your mind spiraled back to it, to all the ways this could go wrong.

You grabbed your car keys without thinking, maybe it would clear your head. A drive—that’s what you needed. Get out of the house, and put some distance between you and the stupid envelope, the phone calls, all of it. You turned the knob, yanked the door open—

—and froze.

Rafe’s hand was raised mid-air, clearly about to knock. You didn’t even try to hide the way your breath hitched.

Oh, no. No, no, no.

Standing there on the porch like he hadn’t just derailed your entire plan. As if it was still perfectly normal for him to show up unannounced, one hand shoved into his pocket and the other gripping his phone, his head tilted in a maddeningly familiar way.

His hand hovered uncertainly on the doorframe as you stepped back, your arms folding protectively over your chest. He didn’t push past you, didn’t move his weight forward—just stood there.

He glanced down at the spare key still in his hand, turning it over like he was considering whether he even had the right to use it. “They called me last night.”

Okay, he was just here because of the hospital, a coincidence, that’s all it was.

“And? You could’ve ignored it.”

His hand flexed at his side like he didn’t know what to do with it. “I thought something might be wrong.”

“It’s not.” Your voice was clipped, cold. “They called the wrong number. End of story.”

He didn’t rise to the bait.

“I thought—” He cut himself off, exhaling sharply. “I thought you were sick.”

“Like I said, it was a mix-up.”

His jaw ticked. That tiny muscle in his cheek twitched, the one that always flared when he was suspicious.

“Funny, they didn’t sound mixed up when they said your name,” he drawled, his tone probing. “Wanna try again?”

“Mind your fucking business,” Your voice was defensive, and you hated the crackle of guilt in your chest when he flinched. “I don’t need you to pretend to care. Why are you even here?” you snapped, taking a step back. The space between you felt vulnerable. “Don’t you have someone else to worry about?"

You felt cornered with every second he stood there.

“We need to talk.”

Maybe if you acted calm, like nothing was wrong, he’d stop looking at you like that. Vulnerability wasn’t something you were good at, he’d already taken too much. He always took too much.

“I don’t owe you shit. Not explanations, not answers, nothing. Leave.”

He didn’t. Of course, he didn’t.

Rafe didn’t know how to let shit go, not when it came to you, he didn’t back away.

“You’re right,” he said, surprising you. “You don’t, but I’m not leaving until we talk.”

The way he said, it wasn’t even a threat. It was worse than that. It was calm, resolute, like he’d already decided, and nothing you said or did could change it.

That scared you more than anything.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you hissed, “Whatever you think you know, you don’t.”

He arched an eyebrow, his eyes flicking to the edge of the couch where your phone still sat, “You sure about that?”

“God, you’re always like this. Always overstepping, always assuming—”

“I know."

All the noise in your head—your spiraling thoughts, your excuses, your endless denials—went silent, except for the way your heart thudded in your chest, so fast, it hurt. He hadn’t raised his voice, but those two words hit you like a kick to your chest.

No, he couldn’t—he didn’t, he was bluffing, he had to be. Air caught in your throat, and for a moment, you thought you might choke on it. He didn’t move, didn’t repeat himself. He couldn’t know.

Your tongue went dry.

“What are you talking about?” You couldn’t breathe. It felt like someone was squeezing your chest. You shook your head again, more violently this time, stepping back, “You don’t know shit.”

“I think I do.” His voice was quiet, and that made it worse, it wasn’t cold or angry; it wasn’t even accusing. He didn’t sound like he wanted to be right, he just sounded tired.

You prayed to come up with something—anything—to deflect, to deny, to keep the truth buried where it belonged.

“You’re delusional,” you took another step back, putting more space between you and the man who had always known you too well.

He just shook his head, “You don’t have to lie to me, you’re scared, you’re not even trying to hide it.”

It was the way he stared with those stupid blue eyes, he was peeling back your layers. He always did that, made you feel like he could see something in you that you weren’t ready to acknowledge.

“Oh, fuck off.” You threw your hands up. “You don’t know shit about what I’m feeling. You’ve got no right to—I’m not lying.”

It still hurt how much you missed him, hurt to even look at him.

“Don’t pull this cryptic bullshit with me, if you’ve got something to say, say it.”

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

The thing you’d been running from, denying, hiding, you simply stared at him, trying to decide if there was any way to lie your way out of this.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You tried to laugh, but it came out strangled, desperate. “T-That’s insane. You’ve lost your mind.”

Rafe wasn’t gloating or triumphant—he just looked… resigned, he’d pieced it together before he showed up.

“Don’t do that. Don’t lie to me, not about this.”

You wanted to scream, to shove him, to do anything that would make him stop looking at you like he cared. Like he knew you. Because if you stopped long enough to think about it, you knew it was over.

He’d already seen it.

“I mean it, Rafe.” Your hand tightened on the door, nails digging into the wood. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

God, this was so fucked. You wanted him gone, but wanted him here, needed him to leave you alone, but at the same time, you hated that he could just leave.

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

You thought about what he’d do if he knew—really knew. Not just the vague sense he had now, but the details. Would he try to stop you?

Your lip quivered, and you hated yourself for it. “You’re wrong.”

You stared at him, at the way his shoulders hunched slightly, his usual confidence worn down. You hated him for being calm for once in his fucking life, for being here, for not letting this slide when it was none of his fucking business.

“Am I?”

Your hands clenched tighter, nails biting into your palms. “Why? Why do you even care? It’s not like you—”

“Because it’s mine.”

Your breath hitched again, and this time, you couldn’t hide it. You wanted to deny it, to throw something—hell, anything—back at him to make him shut the fuck up. But your throat felt like it had shut off entirely, and your mind had gone blank.

“I—” you stammered, shaking your head violently, “No. You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re—”

“Hey, hey, just—just stop,” he said, his voice careful, as if he was trying not to spook you. “I’m not—Jesus, I’m not here to fight with you, okay? I’m not here to make this harder.”

Your chest heaved, a bitter laugh escaping before you could stop it. He was too late—late to care, late to help, late to fix anything. Five days, that’s all you had to get through.

Five days until you didn’t have to think about it anymore.

This is the right choice, you told yourself for the hundredth time. You couldn’t bring a baby into this mess.

“You’re doing a hell of a job at that.”

“I just want to help. If you let me—”

“No,” you interrupted, grabbing the edge of the door. “I’m fixing it.”

“Fixing—?” Rafe’s brow furrowed, his confusion almost comical He started to step forward, but you stopped him with a resentful glare that made him stop. “What does that even mean?”

“It means you can take your fake concern and shove it up your ass.”

His brow furrowed. “It’s not fake—” His face twisted in confusion, mouth opening like he was about to argue, but you didn’t give him the chance, slamming the door in his face, so hard the frame rattled.

“Of course. Of course, it’s mine,” you muttered to yourself, mocking his stupid, self-righteous tone.

You leaned back against the door, sliding to the floor, arms crossed over your knees as your brain whirred like it was trying to kill you.

It wasn’t like you had a choice.

Technically, you did, but what were you supposed to do? Keep it and become a tragic sob story? The words almost felt like you’d ripped them out of someone else’s mouth, right or wrong didn’t even matter anymore. There wasn’t space in your life for this—for him, for a baby, for any of it.

A muffled knock sounded from the front door—tentative, like he was giving you a moment.

“Go away,” you yelled, your voice hoarse.

“Open the door.”

Your thoughts taunted you with memories and possibilities you didn’t want to entertain. The way Rafe had looked at you—like he knew—it was unbearable.

How had he put it together? Maybe you'd slip up in tiny ways, leaving a trail of breadcrumbs for him to follow. You hated yourself for being so careless, despised him even more for being so fucking relentless.

You wiped your cheeks roughly, not realizing you’d started crying until your sleeve came back damp.

“Please, just open the door. We can talk—just talk, okay?

“No,” you muttered to the empty room. “No, I’m not doing this.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, leaning your head back against the door and pressing your hands over your ears to block him out.

“Don’t shut me out like this,” he begged. “I can’t—fuck, I can’t stand it when you do this. Just open the door. Five minutes, that’s all I’m asking.”

He had a key. If he wanted to, he could let himself in at any moment, but he didn’t, that wasn’t the Rafe you were used to.

Before, he'd have barged right in, shouted until your ears bled, and demanded answers. He would’ve tried to fix it or destroy it, maybe both.

You hated that he still acted like he cared, that he was trying to be so fucking reasonable now, when just a few months ago, he would’ve lost it, broken through any barrier to get what he wanted.

This was worse, this Rafe was wearing you down.

Another hushed plea made it through the door, but all you could think was how thin the wood felt, how it barely drowned the sound of his voice. A new door might be better, something heavier, more solid, that could drown out everything—the desperation, the crack in his voice.

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, and you bit hard on the inside of your cheek to keep them from falling.

“I know you’re scared,” he continued, “And I know you think I’ll screw this up—God knows I probably will. But please don’t keep me in the dark. Just tell me what’s going on.”

You pictured flipping through hardware store catalogs, weighing your options: oak? steel? soundproofing foam?

“Please,” Rafe whispered, and the rawness in his voice scraped against you like nails on a chalkboard. You tilted your head back against the door, willing yourself not to cry again.

Steel doors don’t warp as easily as wood.

You swallowed hard, your body aching as you fought the sob threatening to escape. He didn’t deserve this—didn’t deserve to sound so wrecked over you. He'd done this to himself.

Your fingers twitched against the door handle, the temptation to open it curling around you, but instead, you thought about bolts.

Deadbolts, a second lock could work, something he couldn’t get through even if he had the key.

His voice wavered again, you thought he might start crying, too, yet all you did was glance at the base of the door. A better seal would muffle the noise more. Maybe weatherstripping? That could help.

You pressed your hands tighter over your ears, as though it would help. It didn’t. Nothing would—not until you replaced the lock, the door, the memory of him standing there and breaking himself open for you.

God, you really needed a new door—and a new heart.

One that didn’t twist at the sound of his voice, that didn’t flinch every time he called your name like it was a prayer. A heart that didn’t feel for him, you told yourself, over and over, like a mantra. If you could just stop the way your chest tightened at his pleas, stop the ache in your ribs when he said he couldn’t let this go.

You wanted steel walls, that could keep everything out—his voice, his touch, the memories of all the good parts of him that had kept you hanging on for so long. Because of this heart? It was useless, too soft, too easily swayed, still willing to believe him, even when you knew better.

“Please, just talk to me,” Rafe begged. You bit your lip hard enough to taste blood.

You couldn’t help but wonder if this calmness came from Sofia.

Perhaps she was the reason he’d changed, maybe she had somehow made him different, had softened the sharp edges of the guy you used to know. She was calm, collected—nothing like you. It hurt like a bitch, the thought that someone else could make him this patient. You wondered if she’d taught him how to handle his emotions, how to be this way—he’d learned some secret he never bothered to share with you.

You couldn't let yourself go there, couldn't let the bitterness of that thought settle in your mind for too long.

“Talk to me.”

No. Not this time.

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@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2

@starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

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rizsu · 1 year ago

Text

ex-husband!gojo, who wakes up every morning to his disappointment. it's been well over a couple months, yet he still extends his arm to feel for you.

ex-husband!gojo, who still has your contact saved as his main emergency contact. he uses this to his advantage— ringing your phone with the excuse of being "too drunk to drive." it works. he isn't exactly high off his brain, but he has alcohol in his system.

ex-husband!gojo, who happened to spot you with another man. who is he? is he your friend? your lover? perhaps you met after the divorce? whatever the status is, it doesn't help to soothe his jealousy. it's not like he can walk up to you — you might issue a restraining order against him.

ex-husband!gojo, who finds himself at your doorstep. it's late, storming, and you're probably asleep. he doesn't move. mind set in chaos as he ponders whether he should leave or ring the bell. he wants to see you, but the look of disgust he might receive is something he isn't ready to face.

ex-husband!gojo, who's shocked that you opened the door. he didn't ring the bell. were you already there? probably. his throat ran dry, unable to speak a word. you're leaning on the door's frame, arms crossed as you tilt your head. "you need something, gojo?" you asked, not willing to receive an answer.

"can i — can i come in?" he stutters, a little shocked at the use of his surname. the little sparkle of hope that you continue using his first name has been dusted.

ex-husband!gojo, who's fidgety in your home. your silence isn't helping him relax. hell, he hasn't known relaxation ever since the divorce. "help yourself to the kitchen. sleep wherever, i'm going back to bed," your voice held no volume of softness. it was as if you were but a stranger, yet he refuses to let you become one.

"then, may i sleep in your room? on the floor, of course," he's hesitant with his request, deciding it's best to justify himself, "i don't know my way around this house."

ex-husband!gojo, who's yet again stunned that you allowed him in your room — let alone your bed. now he's as still as a stick, unable to fall asleep due to his itching urge to pull you into him. you're most likely sound asleep, uncaring to the man you once called your husband.

ex-husband!gojo, who calls out to you, keeping his voice low as he speaks, "can we talk?"

you replied to him, voice still holding its tone of harshness, "what is there to talk about?"

"anything. how's life been for you?" he keeps his speech short, afraid of annoying you. it's a little late for that, however. you're already annoyed by the attempt of useless talks. "just get to the point, gojo."

and so he follows, sighing before he reveals his intentions, "i fucking missed you, that's all."

ex-husband!gojo, who's surprised when you sat up. although your room holds no light due to the black-out curtains, his eyes adjusted to its darkness, being able to see your every feature. your face, hands, neck, collarbone, chest — everything. he misses being able to run his hands through your body ever-so lovingly. when you lowered yourself right above his face, his eyes kept your gaze. your jaw's clenched. why does he look as if he lost everything? wasn't the divorce mutual?

ex-husband!gojo, who's rendered speechless when your voice cracked. he didn't expect it, nor did he expect you to say what you did. "i missed you, too." did you really miss him? he feels as though he's being lied to. raising a hand to cup your cheek, he shares his words, "really? then why not act on it if you're not lying?"

ex-husband!gojo, who happily accepts your kiss, moving his hand from your cheek to your nape. softly pushing you closer to himself — and to deepen the kiss. it's soft but rough. passionate but seeping with hatred. it's everything at once. you're pulling at his hair, purposefully tugging it as if you're using it to distract yourself from the escaping emotions. he's the same. using his other hand to travel along the junction of your neck and shoulder, squeezing it each time he feels to let the tears flow.

#. ae-generated: jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo angst #gojo satoru headcanons #jjk headcanons

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missqhughes · 2 months ago

Text

ON THE RECORD | Q. HUGHES43

-> quinn hughes x fem!reader

-> contains: dom!quinn, unprotected pnv, m!oral receiving filming sex, physical fighting, bruises and blood, sexual acts and themes, exgf!reader x vince dunn

-> IN WHICH: it’s the first canucks vs. krakens game of the season; and for quinn, this time it’s personal. when y/n’s ex has some words to say about their relationship, he shows both of them exactly who she belongs to.

-> locked in to this fic so hard bc i haven’t written in forever, so i finished writing it in the shower BUT NOT LIKE THAT I PROMISE. also there’s 100% discrepancies in real game play vs in this but please bare with me for the plot. (hope you love it as much as i do!)

*fic is not proofread

18+ CONTENT BELOW THE CUT

y/n was never nervous for a game.

but nothing could take away the ache she had leading up to this one.

it had been a while since her and quinn started dating, and he had it out for her ex since she told him all the horrible things he did to her; cheating, lying, hooking up with multiple women during the season, making a fool out of her publicly. however, she begged quinn not to start something; let bygones be bygones and leave it be, arguing how she left it all behind her. he agreed, knowing he didn’t want any bad press on himself; as captain and as someone the media knew wasn’t a fighter in the league.

y/n sat with her friend in the suite , fiddling with the sleeves of quinn’s jersey, eyes following where he was skating; he looked calm, focused, attentive to warm ups.

“dude, you need to calm down,” her friend laughed, noticing her obvious stress, “nothing is going to happen between them, i promise.”

y/n looked at her friend, “i know, i know. it’s just… quinn hates him. i know vince, and i know he can’t help himself from a fight. i’m just worried.”

“think quinn can’t handle himself?”

“no i know he can, i don’t want him risking getting hurt over something as stupid as a fight,” she retorted, gaze still fixed on the ice, “especially with vince.”

“i think you’re being dramatic,” her friend chuckled, taking a sip of her cold beer, “it’s just another game, no big deal.”

y/n sighed, shoulders relaxing a bit, allowing her friend’s reassurance to ease the tension in her body, “yeah, you’re right. just another game,” she said, cheering her cup with hers.

——————————————————————————

CANUCKS 3 - KRAKEN 2 / 3RD PERIOD

quinn was good at keeping his cool.

he had to, after all.

he ignored the glares from vince, his attempt at intimidation lingering through the entire game.

they didn’t come close in contact, until during a time out, quinn heard a voice call out at him,

“y/n here tonight? bet she came just for me,” vince chirped, a sinister, smug look on his face as he skated past him.

quinn stayed stone faced.

further into the final period of the game, he felt a body slam into his, nearly losing his balance and almost falling into the boards,

the whistle blew, and quinn was met yet again with vince’s hubristic stance,

“saw you’re with her now, how’s that goin for you? bet i come up a lot,”

vince spat, quinn skating closer to him, his temper beginning to spark in his body,

“get over it bud. she’s done with you.” quinn said calmly, the other players around the ice not aware of the situation brewing beside them.

“look hughes, you’re not special,”

with each word, the kraken gets closer and closer to quinn, puffing his chest and spewing hate, the hands in his gloves in the beginning of curling into fists,

“it was just you to get over me,”

quinn’s jaw tightened,

vince laughed bitterly, “she’s a slut, you tonight someone else tom-”

vince couldn’t even finish his sentence before quinn shoved him hard, both their gloves dropped as they fought, quinn bringing him down to the ice, delivering blow after blow to his face.

it all happened so fast, y/n heard the pounding on the glass, cheering on a fight, and feeling her stomach twist when she saw 43.

oh god.

none of the refs were able to get quinn off of him alone, his fists not stopping until they were bruised and bloody, matching the wounds on vince’s face.

quinn was panting with anger, face tinted crimson, a light bruise forming on his cheekbone where vince had landed a punch. he couldn’t feel the near splits in his knuckle, too riled with adrenaline to feel anything but rage.

——————————————————————————

fortunately enough, the canucks ended the game with a win, but that didn’t change how fired up y/n knew quinn was going to be when she saw him.

she was allowed to be in the locker room during post game interviews, and she watched nervously as interviewers swarmed and crowded quinn, bombarding him with questions.

he was asked about the fight, detail, if vince had said anything to set him off, the why as a captain, he would start something on the ice.

quinn’s expression remained nothing short of blank, refusing to answer any questions regarding it, pursing his lower lip, “nothing to say about that. keep it about hockey and that’s it.”

after post game reports had finished, y/n waited outside by the doors for quinn to come out.

she didn’t know how he was going to be when he came out, pacing with worry about what the media would twist this game in to.

y/n heard the heavy doors click open, quinn in a lazy rendition of his suit, walking over to her; the bruise on his cheek deeper in color than when she initially saw.

“hey baby,” she said softly, opening her arms for quinn to embrace without hesitation.

“hey,” he replied, tightening their hug before pulling away, “cmon, we need to go home.”

quinn didn’t give y/n a chance to respond when he hooked his hand into hers, leading her to his dark tinted car in the lot.

y/n slid into the passenger seat while quinn loaded his gear into the trunk, she looked out the window until the driver’s side door clicked shut.

she looked over at quinn, an unreadable look on his face; he said nothing, instead putting the car in drive to go back to their shared apartment.

the drive home was silent.

the only sound being the hum of the car engine and their steady breaths. quinn always had his hand on her leg when he drove, but this time his hand was a little higher, his grip a little tighter, all whilst he kept his gaze fixed on the road. y/n’s breath would hitch ever so slightly when his fingers kneaded into her skin.

——————————————————————————

quinn was still quiet even after getting home.

frustrated, y/n spoke out, “quinn, what did vince say to you?” she said with a sigh,

“shit about me. about you. us.” he mumbled, taking off his suit jacket and undoing the black tie he had on.

“so, that’s reason enough to give me the silent treatment all the way home? you’re acting like that was my fault,”

“i never said it was your fault.”

“you don’t have to! it doesn’t take a lot to know you’re upset,” she retorted,

“y/n,” quinn started, walking over to where she was standing, holding her by the neck when he kissed her roughly, biting her lip when she moaned lightly into his mouth.

he tapped the back y/n’s of legs, and she jumped hooking her legs around his waist without objection.

quinn waltzed them to the bedroom, their kiss nowhere close to cooling off. quinn lightly tossed her on the bed, lips peeling off hers to suck and bite on the exposed skin of her neck.

y/n groaned lightly, beginning to unbutton his collared shirt, when quinn pulled off of her, leaving y/n with furrowed brows.

“quinn, what’s wrong?” she said, propping herself up on her arms, looking up at her boyfriend, confused.

“wait here baby,” he said, leaving the room.

she nodded, and about 15 seconds had passed when quinn returned to the room, his phone in hand with the camera app already opened.

“you want to make a movie huh?” she said, beginning to peel off the jersey that housed quinn’s name.

“only for our number one fan. leave the jersey on,” he said, “but everything else, off. now.”

y/n nodded, slipping down her pants and thong, her pussy already aching with the desire quinn had filled in her.

quinn swiftly undid his belt with one hand, lowering his pants and boxers to leave his hard length exposed.

“c’mere, suck.”

y/n obliged, moving down to her knees to meet quinn at hip length, the phone flash shining brightly in her face when she took the tip of his dick and swirled it around her tongue.

quinn groaned, moving his free hand to pull y/n’s hair into a ponytail with his fist. his breath quickened, y/n taking all of him in, bobbing up and down; quinn’s hips matching her rhythm.

he had almost forgot he was recording her, but when her lashes fluttered up to perfectly view the camera whilst she sucked him, quinn knew he was close to cumming.

quinn groaned louder, fucking y/n’s face, her moans sending vibrations on his dick that pushed him to his release. he pulled out of her mouth right when he was about to cum, y/n sticking her tongue out to collect his release.

god he was loving this.

he stopped the video as she wiped the leftover release from her face, pulling her up for a sloppy hot kiss.

quinn pulled away, the two panting with puffy lips, “bed, ass up, baby. now.” he instructed, reopening his phone for the perfect view.

“yes captain,” y/n said, just ready for whatever quinn had in store for her, her wetness beginning to seep down and stick to her inner thighs, burning for him to touch her.

after hitting record, quinn wasted no time aligning himself with her, pumping in and out a few times before going fully in, his hips meeting her ass, eliciting moans from the two of them.

his pace was rapid and brutal, moving her hair away from her and back into his hands, revealing to the camera the “hughes” jersey she was wearing.

“fuck, quinn! mm, so good— my god, fuck,” y/n moaned, echoing with the sound of their skin slapping against one another, her noises music to quinn’s ears.

he continued to pound hard into her, y/n’s knuckles white from how hard she gripped into the sheets, feeling her stomach tighten, about to reach her high.

quinn felt her pussy tighten around him, knowing she was close, “gonna cum baby? go ahead, cum,” he husked, coming to his second of the night.

she screamed in pleasure, her cunt coating his dick, mixing with his as he filled her up with his release.

quinn pulled out of her slowly, giving time to show the camera a view of her dripping puffy pussy, ending the video with a hard smack on her ass.

y/n yelped, falling into the bed. quinn turned her around, gently kissing her in her dazed state.

“you okay baby?” he asked gently, caressing her face with his thumb,

“mhm, but i think you killed me. i’m exhausted,” she laughed, quinn smiling and bringing his lips down to peck hers, “sorry, want me to go start a shower for us?”

“you know me so well,”

quinn crawled off of her, grabbing his phone before slipping into the bathroom,

he opened instagram, typing in vince’s username into the search bar, itching as he opened their messages tab.

——————————————————————————

xoxo, kaia

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes x reader #qh43 #vancouver canucks #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes fic #nhl fic #hughes brothers #quinn hughes imagine #nhl imagine #nhl #hockey

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pedroscurls · 2 months ago

Text

training partners (pt. 3)

summary: you continue to spend more time with hugh, realizing just how different your lives are and while it scares you, hugh does a great job at reassuring you. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader warnings: implied age gap (hugh is 55, reader is in late 20s-early 30s), reader has some description (hair, outfit), angst - mentions of a past toxic relationship (gaslighting) reader thinks too much and has insecurities, suggestive smut (brief oral - f receiving), no use of y/n. word count: 3.9k a/n: ok, so this relationship is moving fast but let's be honest, i feel like hugh would definitely know a good thing when he sees it lol. this is purely fictional! i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman (it's the only way i can live out my fantasies of this man lol). prev part. - next part.

You wake up the sounds of Hugh’s quiet snores. You still can’t believe you spent the night. One of his arms is draped over your waist and you’re very aware of the lack of clothing between the both of you. True to his word, Hugh devoured you last night. His tongue, his lips, his fingers– the man knew exactly what he was doing. You were hesitant at first, seeing him between your legs, mouth inches away from where you needed him the most. He could sense your nervousness and had gently placed a soft kiss on the inside of your thigh.

It was such a simple act, but it provided all the reassurance you needed. Hugh was the first ever person to go down on you and you fear that he’s ruined it for you. If this didn’t work out, you’re sure that there won’t ever be another man to do it like him.

You’re lying on your back, arm resting over his. He looks so peaceful, so unbothered by the responsibilities and realities of the world. His snores even provide a level of comfort that you know can lull you back to sleep. It had only been a week since meeting him and while you certainly didn’t plan for any of this to happen, you can’t imagine it being any different.

You liked Hugh. A lot, and it scared you. Not because you didn’t think you weren’t ready to get into another relationship, but because your worlds were just vastly different.

But you remember what he said yesterday and it brings a smile to your lips.

“I don’t want this to be casual.”

You turn slightly to face him, watching as he moves with you, lying on his back instead as his arm drops from your waist. You lie on your side, bringing your fingertips to gently run across his chest. He’s still snoring, but you can’t help but notice the marks you left on his body. The scratch marks on his arms and you’re sure there are more on his back.

This doesn’t feel real. It’s like you’re in some kind of dream and you’re afraid to wake up, not wanting this to end. Yesterday had been one of the best days you’ve had in a very long time and you had Hugh to thank. Not only was the sex amazing, but the conversations and laughter you both shared was just as great.

You know you shouldn’t be comparing Hugh to your ex-boyfriend, but you can’t help but reflect on just how different they both were. Whenever you were talking, Hugh always made sure to keep his attention fully on you, eyes staring into yours, hand holding yours or resting on your back. With Hugh, you felt seen. You felt heard. You felt like your voice mattered.

With your ex-boyfriend, you always felt like you were bothersome. He had always been very short with you, always on his phone, and very disinterested in what you had to say. Towards the end of your relationship with him, you had learned to keep quiet, learned to keep your thoughts and opinions to yourself. It wasn’t until the relationship ended that you realized just how much your ex-boyfriend gaslit you and your emotions.

But with Hugh… You felt validated. You had to wonder if it had to do with the age difference. Your ex-boyfriend was just a year older than you; with Hugh being much older, you couldn’t help but think about all of the life experiences he must have gone through to get to where he is now.

With Hugh, you feel so much more grounded.

Wanting to surprise him with breakfast, you slowly climb out of bed and pull on your panties. You carefully tiptoe into his closet, making sure not to make too much noise. You pull on one of Hugh’s white button down shirts and slip it on, buttoning just a few buttons to at least cover yourself up.

Then, you leave his bedroom and make your way to his kitchen. You don’t know if this is overstepping any boundaries, but you wanted to do something nice for him, especially after yesterday.

You’re taken aback by the view of the city again. Hugh was right, watching the sunset last night was worth staying. His kitchen is so much larger than yours and you’re not sure where he keeps his pots and pans, so you open the cupboards to try and find them. When you do, you grab one large pan and place it on top of his stove and then open his fridge. You see a carton of eggs and a bag of spinach that you take and place on the counter. You remember that Hugh’s on a strict diet, so what’s healthier than an egg and spinach omelet?

You also see his coffee machine in the corner and your eyes light up in excitement. Having been a barista all throughout your college years, you knew your way around a good coffee machine.

It takes you about twenty minutes to finish cooking and making coffee. You’re about to set the table when you hear footsteps round the corner. You look up at him to see that he’s completely shirtless, but that he has put on a pair of sweatpants that hangs low at his hips. His hair is slightly disheveled and he’s yawning, but when his eyes meet yours, there’s a large grin that forms on his lips.

“Did you make me breakfast?” he calls out, walking over to you.

“And coffee,” you point out. “I hope you don’t mind,” you say nervously. “I wanted to do something for you since yesterday was just such an amazing day and–”

Hugh interrupts you and cups your cheeks in his large hands, bending down to press his lips against yours softly. “I don’t mind at all, love.” Then, he pulls back enough to look down at what you’re wearing and he bites his lower lip. “And I certainly don’t mind this at all.”

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks as you move to rest your hands on his broad chest. “I couldn’t find my shirt, so…”

“You could’ve also just walked around naked,” Hugh winks. “That would have been just as an amazing sight as this.”

You roll your eyes playfully and pull away from him, but he takes your wrist and pulls you back into his arms.

“Wait,” he says quietly.

“Hm?”

“Good morning,” Hugh smiles, kissing your forehead. “Yesterday and last night was… It was wonderful.”

“It was the best day,” you say softly, leaning into him. “One of the best I’ve had in a while.”

“I can get used to having you here,” Hugh admits. “Is that– Am I moving too fast here?”

You shake your head and run your hands to his chest and arms, gently squeezing his biceps as you bite your lower lip. “No, I just–” you sigh. “What if you get tired of me?”

“I won’t,” Hugh reassures you.

“But what if–” you shake your head, trying to force the negative thoughts out. You realize it’s lingering in the back of your mind. “You’re you and I’m me.”

Hugh’s hands move to your hips, gently squeezing them. “He really hurt you, didn’t he?” Hugh asks quietly.

“Hugh…”

“I’m not him, baby.”

“I know you aren’t.”

“Good because I know a good thing when I see it,” Hugh affirms.

You bite your lower lip and look deeply into his eyes, feeling your heart swell at his words and at the sight of him. You can tell how serious he is, how his gaze doesn’t falter. “I like being here. With you,” you admit. “And I’m not just saying that because the sex is amazing.”

“But that’s one of the reasons, isn’t it?” Hugh winks, letting out a quiet chuckle. “You know, I haven’t slept that good in a very long time. Something about having you next to me brought me a lot of comfort.”

“You have a way of words, don’t you?” You smile, leaning up to gently peck his lips.

Hugh laughs quietly and pulls away from you to walk over to the plate of food. “I just tell the truth, baby.”

You roll your eyes and sit on the stool, looking up at him as he takes a bite of the egg and spinach omelet you created for him. He lets out a quiet groan of approval and looks in your direction, grinning.

“So, you can cook too?”

“And make coffee,” you wink.

Hugh arches a brow and takes a sip of his americano, brows raising upwards. “Wow. Yeah, I need you around here like… All the time. Can we arrange that, you think?”

“Hmm,” you look up in thought, resting an elbow on the island. “I will need some closet space, a corner on your bathroom counter–”

Hugh lets out a laugh and sets his fork down to walk towards you, turning your body on the stool until your back is resting against the counter and his hands rest at either side of you, caging you in. He bends down so that you’re at eye level with him, a smirk lining his lips.

“Whatever you want, baby, you’re gonna get.” He leans in, brushing his lips against yours.

You move to wrap around arms lazily around his shoulders and stare into his eyes, running your fingers through his hair. “You should finish your breakfast. You’re bulking up for Wolverine, so you need your calories.”

“I also need some cardio too,” Hugh grins. “Wanna join in on the session?”

You bite your lower lip in anticipation and nod slowly. “Meet you upstairs?”

Hugh shakes his head and moves his hand to your hips, lifting you off the stool with ease and placing you on the edge of the counter. “No, baby, gonna need you to wait right here for me.”

“Like a good girl?” you ask, bringing your hands to play with the buttons

Hugh grins and nods, continuing to eat as he stares at you,eyes dropping to see your legs cross over one another. Then, he reaches out and taps your knee. “Leave ‘em open for me.”

You nod and then spread your legs for him, looking up at him in excitement.

Hugh’s eyes narrow and he takes the last bite of his omelet. He sets the plate in the sink and then walks to stand between your legs, reaching up to undo the button on the shirt you’re wearing. Once it opens, he clears his throat and moves his hands to push the shirt off your shoulders, exposing your chest to him.

“Gonna have an early morning dessert, if ya don’t mind, baby.” Hugh smirks, hooking his fingers into your panties and sliding it down your legs. “Been thinking about this since last night. Tastes so good,” he growls.

Then, Hugh dips down between your legs and you feel eyes roll in the back of your head once his tongue darts out to taste you.

—

It’s been a full week since you spent the night and Hugh craves more and more of having you in his home with him. It’s been a very long time since he’s felt like this and he’s known to fall hard and fall fast, but he’s being careful this time around. He doesn’t want to push you if you aren’t ready, but he can’t help the way you make him laugh and smile, how he feels more at calm with you by his side, and how excited he gets whenever he falls asleep with you in his arms because he knows he’ll wake up with you by his side.

Hugh knows that he’s going to get busier as the months pass, knowing that for the next year, he’s going to be focused on preparing to come back as Logan. While it should deter him from continuing to see you and committing himself to a relationship, it surprises him that it doesn’t. He isn’t the type of person to take things for granted and he always went after what he wanted, and you– Well, you have been such a nice surprise and he can’t even think about the possibility of letting you go.

He thinks back to the last time you were here, teasing him about how you would need closet space and an area in his bathroom for your things. You might have been joking, but Hugh takes it seriously. He’s already given you more than enough space in his closet, walking inside to see the vacant space along the wall. He stands there, arms crossed over his chest, as he imagines your things here with his.

Hugh’s mind drifts when he hears his phone ring. He looks down at it and sees your contact name; he always smiles at it: Swole-mate 💪

“Hi, baby,” Hugh answers immediately. He can’t ignore the way his heart rate speeds up, his stomach doing flips in excitement just to get a chance to hear your voice. “You almost here?”

“Yeah, just a few minutes out,” he hears you say. “Are you sure spending the weekend is okay?”

Hugh leaves his closet and begins descending the stairs to greet you. “If I had it my way, you’d be here for more than just the weekend.”

With the silence that comes from you, Hugh just knows that your mind has drifted and so when you pull into his driveway, he hangs up the phone and waits until you park to approach you. Once you climb out of your car, your eyes meet his and Hugh smiles, walking towards you.

“Your mind just doesn’t shut off, does it?” Hugh says, taking your hand and gently pulling you to him. “What’s goin’ on in that beautiful head of yours, baby?”

“Nothing,” you sigh, resting your cheek against his chest as your arms come up to wrap around him. You feel safe with him, but you know that you both need to have a serious conversation about where this will go. He had mentioned to you that his schedule was going to get busier and you wanted to know where you fit in with all of that before you allow yourself to fall in deeper.

Hugh brings a hand to rub your back, placing a gentle kiss at the crown of your head. “I don’t believe ya,” he says. “Let me grab your things and we can head inside and talk?”

You nod and release your hold on him, watching him walk towards your trunk to grab your duffle bag filled with clothes and toiletries to last for the rest of the weekend. Once he shuts your trunk, Hugh reaches out and takes your hand in his, leading you inside his home and up the stairs to his bedroom.

You’ve been thinking so much since the last time you were here, trying your best to stay in the moment and not expect too much, but when Hugh mentioned his schedule for the next few months, you started to pull away. You didn’t want to put your all into this if it wasn’t going to go anywhere. Hugh sits at the edge of his bed and looks up at you, head tilting to the side.

You’re pacing back and forth in front of him and he reaches out for your hand to pull you to stand between his legs.

“Hey,” he says softly.

You don’t look at him, letting out a quiet sigh.

“Baby,” Hugh says again. “Look at me.”

You clear your throat and turn your attention to him. There are tears stinging your eyes and you aren’t even sure why you’re getting so emotional, but there is a bit of fear knowing that this may be the last weekend you would spend with him.

“Talk to me. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s goin’ on in your mind.”

“You’re going to be busier,” you point out, biting the inside of your cheek. “And I don’t want to hold you back. I know we literally just met two weeks ago, but I’m okay with ending things the way they are now. It’s been more than amazing to spend all this time with you and–”

“Ending this?” Hugh interrupts, confusion written all over his face as his brows furrow together. “Do you not want this?”

“No, I do!” you sigh, looking down at your hands that are currently holding onto his. “I just– I don’t want you to have to worry about me while you’re away shooting and you’re going to just be so busy. I know what you do for a living and it’s to be expected, but I just feel like you’d worry while you’re away and I don’t–” you let out a shaky breath and shake your head. “Am I even making sense?”

Hugh sighs. “You are making sense,” he reassures, bringing your hand to his lips and placing a soft kiss on the back of it. “But I guess I just don’t understand. You won’t be holding me back.”

“Hugh,” you close your eyes for a moment and release his hands to wrap your arms around his shoulders. “I like you a lot and it scares me,” you admit. “It scares me because I don’t know how I fit into all of this. Into your life.”

“Really?” Hugh asks. “Because I can see it so clearly.”

“What?”

“I can see how you fit into my life so clearly,” Hugh repeats. “And you’re not tied to a job here. You travel for work too and I may or may have not talked about you to Ryan and Shawn…” he admits quietly. “Anyway, I know it’s scary because this scares me too, but I can’t…” he shakes his head, looking up at you as his hands move to rest on your hips. “I can’t even fathom letting you go and I don’t want to either.”

“I’ve given my all before in a relationship and in the end, it only hurt me…” you reply with a shaky voice.

“I know,” he sighs, eyes softening as he slowly stands up. Your hands drop from his shoulders to his waist as Hugh’s hands cup the base of your neck, keeping his eyes solely focused on yours. “And I can’t promise that everything will always be okay, but I can promise you that I’d always put you first. No matter what. Whatever this is between us,” Hugh continues, his thumbs brushing against the corners of your eyes as he feels a couple of tears trickle. “I want to believe that it’ll work out.”

“We’ve only known each other for two weeks,” you whisper. “I’m way in over my head. You must think I’m crazy.”

“Like I said… You have a lot of love to give,” Hugh whispers, gently pecking your lips. “And I’d be a lucky man to be on the receiving end of your love one day.”

You bite your lower lip and wrap your arms around him tighter, moving to rest your forehead against the crook of his neck as his hands drop from the base of your neck to rest on your lower back. Hugh can feel the weight lift itself off your shoulders as you relax into him. He peppers kisses along your cheek and tightens his hold on you.

“Feeling better?” Hugh whispers into your ear.

You nod against him. “Yeah, thank you, Hugh.”

“All I ask is that you talk to me, baby, okay?” He asks, pulling back to look down at you. “Whatever is bothering you, I don’t want you to hold it in. I’m here to listen.”

“God, you really are perfect, aren’t you?” you laugh quietly, pecking his lips.

Hugh smiles to himself. He realizes that he hates seeing you upset and when he hears your laugh and sees the smile on your face, he feels proud, accomplished. “I’m not perfect.”

“I’d say otherwise,” you smile, looking deeply into his eyes. “I’m not used to talking about what’s bothering me or my feelings, but I’m learning.”

“This will always be a safe space, okay?” Hugh tells you. “You’re safe with me.”

You hug him tightly, burying your face into him as you let out a sigh of relief. You feel his arms tighten around you and it brings you so much comfort. Being here with him, in his arms, brings you comfort. You feel him fall back onto his mattress, taking you with him as you curl against his side, arm draped over his abdomen as his arm hooks around your shoulders.

“So, you told Ryan and Shawn about me?” you ask, looking up at him. “As in the Ryan Reynolds and the Shawn Levy?”

Hugh laughs. “Do you describe all people like that?”

“Only celebrities,” you correct.

Hugh looks down at you and shakes his head, a smile lining his lips. “I did, is that okay? I know we never talked about who can know and who can’t…”

“It’s okay, Hugh,” you reassure him, kissing his chest.

“I’d tell the whole world, if I could,” he says honestly. “But whenever you’re ready, baby.”

You nod, shutting your eyes as you rest against him. “Thank you,” you whisper. “For not pressuring me. For going at my pace. I know it must not be easy, but you have no idea how much it means to me.”

Hugh hooks a finger under your chin, eyes scanning your features as he bites his lower lip. Your eyes remain closed as he brushes his thumb lightly along your jawline. “I’d wait for you, no matter how long it takes.”

“Yeah,” you smile, turning your head to kiss the pad of his thumb. “You’re perfect.”

Hugh laughs to himself and then holds you tighter into his side. “So, I also told Ryan and Shawn you were a photographer and they may want to meet you to discuss a few things.”

“About my work or about us?” you open your eyes at that, looking up at him.

“About your work.”

“But I’m an engagement photographer, and last I checked, they’re both already married.”

Hugh smiles. “Well, I also showed them your other work…”

“Oh, but those weren’t really serious… They were just for fun. Landscapes, street photography.”

“They were just as good, baby.” He tells you. “And it’s possible,” he grins. “Or rather, they will be asking if you’d be interested in being our on-set photographer, taking pictures behind the scenes.”

Your eyes widen slightly, looking into his eyes. “That would mean I’d be there with you.”

Hugh nods slowly, the grin remaining on his lips. “Exactly, you’d be there with me on set of Deadpool & Wolverine. You sure you won’t get tired of me?” Hugh asks.

You shake your head and move to straddle his waist, resting your forearms down on either side of his head on the bed as you feel his hands move to your hips.

“Isn’t that a question that I ask?” you tease, nose brushing against his.

“It’s a valid question.”

“No, I won’t get tired of you, Hugh. How can I?” you whisper, brushing your lips across his own lightly. “I mean, I think you’ve ruined other men for me.”

Hugh growls and wraps an arm around your waist, rolling you over onto your back as he settles himself between your legs. “Good,” he says huskily, rolling his hips against yours. “Because you’re mine now.”

---

taglist (if links don't work, i'm sorry!): @corvusmorte - @dragonqueen89 - @whimsiwitchy - @kellyxo1 - @wolviehugh - @moonxknightx - @sullyselena - @angelofthorr - @spectorrrhgf - @needz1nk - @fandomxo00 - @godlypresley - @kythefangirl25 - @callsignyourmom

#hugh jackman #hugh jackman fanfiction #hugh jackman fanfic #real person fanfiction #real person fanfic #story: training partners #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman x f!reader #hugh jackman x fem!reader

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steddieas-shegoes · 5 months ago

Text

scared to want you

for @steddie-week prompt 'exes to lovers'

rated m | 1021 words | cw: implied sexual content | tags: post breakup, getting back together, idiots in love, platonic stobin

❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

“Are you gonna stop staring at him anytime soon?” Robin’s voice asked loudly in his ear.

“Probably not,” Steve admitted. “He’s wearing my sweater.”

He saw Robin’s head whip around to look back at Eddie. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

It’s surprising to see Eddie here at all, let alone in Steve’s sweater. Eddie had moved back in with Wayne three months ago after an argument with Steve that led whatever they were to destruction.

Steve wanted more, Eddie had been afraid. Steve said he loved him, Eddie said he needed to leave.

Steve spent the last three months hurting. Eddie was wearing his sweater in public.

Everything was a little confusing right now.

“We should go, Steve.” Robin sounded angry now, and Steve loved her for it. She’d been the one to show up at his door a few hours after Eddie was gone and held him while he cried. She’d been there for weeks while he avoided everyone’s questions, went through the motions of being an adult while barely getting by. She had blocked Eddie on all of his social media and her own out of spite. “It doesn’t do you any good to sit here and pine after someone who hurt you.”

She was right, of course, but he couldn’t leave.

Eddie was wearing his sweater.

Eddie looked good in his sweater.

“Steve.”

Steve turned to Robin, who was smiling sadly back at him.

“I don’t think I can go without talking to him.”

Robin nodded once, always so understanding of Steve, supportive even when he didn’t always deserve it. She was the best, and he was about to piss her off.

“I’ll text you when I leave,” he said as he gave her a quick hug. She wouldn’t want to stick around to see what happens with this. “I’ll be fine.”

He wouldn’t, and she knew that, but she squeezed his hand in hers and left anyway.

Eddie hadn’t noticed him yet, or at least wasn’t acting like he had. He was standing at the bar talking to the bartender and a woman who walked in only a few minutes ago. Whatever he was talking about seemed serious, none of them smiling.

Steve walked up to the bar slowly, but with the sole purpose of talking to Eddie.

The bartender turned to him and smiled. “Hey, hon. You need another Sunrise, Sunset?”

Steve shook his head, but smiled at her. “No thanks, Kim. Just here to say hi to someone.”

When he turned towards Eddie, he was already looking back at him, biting his lip nervously.

“Hey, Eds.”

“Hey, Stevie.”

“Been a bit,” Steve swallowed. He didn’t actually know what he was trying to accomplish here. All he knew was there had to be a reason he was wearing Steve’s sweater. It wasn’t exactly his usual style. “Doing alright?”

The other woman seemed to catch onto what was going on, turning away and talking to the bartender instead.

“Um, yeah I guess.” Eddie was lying. Steve could always tell when he was lying. “You?”

“Been better,” Steve replied. “A little surprised to see you here. In that.”

Eddie looked down at what he was wearing and then up at Steve, cheeks red with embarrassment. “Laundry day.”

“Sure.” Steve sighed, rubbing his hand down his face. He just had to say something. Maybe closure would be good. “Can we talk somewhere else?”

Eddie nodded and started to walk to the back of the bar where the office and bathrooms were. Steve followed, assuming they’d go into the bathroom and hope no one came in. When Eddie led him into the office, Steve frowned.

“I don’t think we have permission to be in here.”

“I work here part time. Kim lets me take my breaks in here,” Eddie explained, closing the door behind them. “I didn’t know you liked this bar.”

“We’ve only been a few times,” Steve explained.

“Oh, you’ve um. You and your date?” Eddie was leaning against the desk, eyes cast down to his feet.

“No. Me and Robin.”

Eddie let out a shaky breath. “Right, good, yeah.”

“Eddie, look at me.” Steve stepped closer, could almost feel the heat coming off of Eddie’s body. Eddie looked up at him, eyes watery and bottom lip bitten red. “Why are you wearing my sweater?”

“I needed you.” Eddie’s broken voice was all Steve needed to close what little distance remained between them, pulling Eddie against him and holding him as tightly as he possibly could.

“I didn’t think you needed me anymore,” Steve said against his neck, trying not to get his hopes up despite Eddie’s tears now soaking his shirt. “You didn’t want me anymore.”

Eddie’s hands tightened in Steve’s shirt and Steve felt him shake his head. “I wanted you too much. I was scared how much I wanted you.”

“Are you still scared now?”

“Only that I don’t have you.”

Steve’s lips found Eddie’s, hopeful and desperate.

Eddie took control within seconds, turning them around so Steve was sitting on the corner of the desk, legs spread so Eddie could fit between them. Where he belonged.

As Eddie’s hands pushed Steve’s shirt up and Steve’s legs pulled him in impossibly closer, the thought that they were still in a public place occurred to Steve.

He ignored it as Eddie’s thumb brushed against his nipple and his teeth bit his bottom lip.

“Want you now,” Eddie groaned against Steve’s neck. “Want you forever.”

“Lock the door.” Steve ordered.

Eddie locked the door.

****

When they left the office, hair disheveled and suspicious stains on their shirts, they were met with a knowing look from Kim.

Eddie rolled his eyes and pushed Steve out the door by the small of his back.

“Still living with Wayne?” Steve asked.

“Yeah. Could we go to yours?” Eddie asked hesitantly.

“Only if it can be ours.”

Eddie stopped him on the sidewalk, eyes blinking furiously. “You would want that? After I left?”

Steve smiled. “Are you gonna leave again or are you gonna let me love you?”

“You can still love me?”

“I couldn’t not love you.”

“Then let’s go to ours.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddieweek24 #steddie week #exes to lovers #getting back together #idiots in love

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samptlay · 3 months ago

Text

♡ ⁠◍⁠• Skin That Cries Golden Tears • Chapter 2 ◍⁠

Chapter 1•🌑

Ah yes. How cliche. Of course, you blackout as soon as you hear the background noises of the tiny mob dying. Everything was too overwhelming at once, you couldn't fight it. You died and suddenly woke up inside a game. Not to mention you still have to process the deep feeling of betrayal left by your ex. But it honestly can't be helped. You have no idea where you'll be when you wake up and just pray it's not a jail cell. You weren't dressed in anything they were used to, you were dressed in a simple black dress that you’re sure didn’t belong in your wardrobe, it definitely wasn’t what you were wearing when you had died but it looked modern. You’re going to half to find a way to play it off, somehow.

When you first felt your body being carried, it was no surprise since it was the only way you’d be…. Well, rescued. That is what happened, right? Surely you didn’t get kidnapped. But judging by the moon being out and the cool air at the time, it couldn’t have been the Knights since all of them must have been asleep or in town based on how dark it was. So who came to your rescue? They had to use Pyro, you knew that, at least.

Red ponytail…. Pyro vision…. Night time….

You can’t possibly be this slow. It’s clearly -

“So you think the Dark-Knight Hero is the one who left her unconscious at our doorstep?” There’s no mistaking it, the owner of that soft-spoken voice was most definitely the Grand Acting Master, Jean. Your eyes were still closed telling by the sunlight hitting your skin, that you most likely spent the night there, or morning. You were completely conscious, but you wanted to know for some reason. Depending on when they noticed you outside. “Yes, there was a letter too but it flew away in the wind before I could bring it here when I picked her up.” And that absolutely had to be Diluc’s voice. Anyone smart enough would be able to tell that it was clearly him who brought you the HQ. However, Jean just sighed with a nod before looking over a particular document at her desk, which actually looked more like some type of scroll in your opinion. She kept looking back and forth between it and you.

“So, unidentified traveler, how long do you plan on faking unconsciousness?” The sudden change in his voice startles you, causing your eyes to blink open fully and take in the frowning tall man who’s crossing his arms while looking down at your figure lying on the bed.

“Oh. Sorry, I was a bit… Half-awake? I didn’t mean to eavesdrop or anything, I just-” But your words were interrupted by someone clearing their throat to which both you and Diluc turned to look at the source, Jean, of course. “It’s not that big of a deal, Diluc.” She takes a few steps towards you before raising a hand to your forehead, even moving a little hair out of your eyes. Even with her touching you, she looked somewhat wary and in your opinion, overly spectacle.

“You seem healthy. However, I am curious to know exactly what you were doing in the fields late at night. And you don’t seem like a traveler, with no weapons on you, or resources. And you clearly don’t have a companion, or am I wrong?” You catch the way she wavers in her voice as if she’s conforming to something she doesn’t want to or is even afraid to. It is exactly what she’s doing so you’re confused about why she’s nervous.

“..Yes, I’m alone. I was just… I... I don’t know how I woke up there, to be honest.” Diluc, who you had forgotten was there for a moment lets out something that sounds like a chuckle, but out of disbelief. Jean glances at the desk once more which just makes you want to get up and see what’s there for yourself. She removes her hand from your body before standing up straight up and eyeing you with something you can’t describe. She goes behind her desk and sits down.

“...”

The silence & tension in the air was so thick it could be cut with a knife. You suddenly felt the urge to sit down, as if sitting down would prove to turn you too vulnerable. So you get up, quickly. It startled the other people in the room and you swore you saw Diluc reach for his sword when he flinched, and the reaction on your face clearly said it all because he glimpsed over the sword strapped to him before visibly relaxing (at least trying to).

“This was fun for a little but I think it’s time you c-” The Grand Acting Master is interrupted as the door flies open and you think the temperature gets a little chiller. A certain navy blue man with an eyepatch scurries in, looking like he is searching for something. His eyes scan the room in a flash before landing on you. Something about the eye contact you two made sent a shiver down your spine while his gaze lingered while he turned towards the other two in the room. “Oh! Was I interrupting something? Sorry, sorry. I heard that a particular person had shown up in the middle of nowhere and I just had to see what all the commotion was about…” The deep ocean blue eyes fall on you again. “So this is our guest?” He leans against the door frame for a moment, eyeing you up and down when he decides to stand up straight and walk (more like stride) straight in your direction.

Real. This is all real and in fact, not some delusional dream. You pray none of them notice the way you hold your breath as he gets closer and closer, stopping at Diluc's distance, only a little closer. You can't stop the words coming out of your mouth.

“You're-” “Kaeya.” He interrupts confidently, stretching out his hand to you. It's a good thing he said something before you mentioned his name. It would have only made you all the more suspicious. You stare at his hand that's stranded in the air for a few seconds, before he sighs and takes your own with a gentle yet strong grip, pulling it to his lips, and kissing it. A peck. Then he freezes, as if he didn't believe what or why he just did that. It wasn't really visible on his face but you could tell. You can tell a lot about everyone here, actually. And some things tell you it's not just because you know all the lore for every character. It's something you feel from the inside.

Kaeya graciously lets your arm fall back to your side and you hope there isn’t as much blush on your face as you think there is. “Why don’t I take this fine lady throughout Mondstadt, hm? You two seem like you have more important… things to discuss about whatever just happened, unless..?” He, not aggressively, yanks you up and off what you are sitting on and starts leading you toward the door. He didn’t even wait for the two to reply. Jean gets up from her chair, hands practically slamming on the table as she pins him with a look. “Hold on Kaeya, this is dangerous. We don’t know who this is or where they came from. And here you are trying to show them around? Let them meet civilians? This is all too suspicious. You can’t just-” She shuts her eyes and makes a noise that sounds like something close to a groan. One hand on her hips. “They have to stay here. You know exactly how heavy this situation is.” Diluc, being the man he is, also glares at Kaeya, and you swear you hear a scoff from under his breath.

Kaeya, shockingly, doesn’t look back and continues dragging you along out of the head office. “I’ll bring them back, don’t worry. But I’d like this with this one by myself.” You can hear Jean and Diluc’s complaints rise but you're out of the building by the time you can make out any of their words.

The two of you venture into the city, and you take a moment to look at everything around you. Wow. It’s much more beautiful and lively since everything is suddenly so…. Realistic. Before waking up here, it was your least favorite nation but you might consider changing your mind. Everything seems so calm and it really is less chaotic than all the other nations. It’s peaceful. “So I assume our city is to your liking? With the way your eyes are practically shining…” Your daydreaming is cut short when Kaeya stands in front of you, arms crossed, hands on his hips, looking amused out of his mind. “Well, it’s not every day you wake up in a whole new world.”

It slipped out, it really did. But you hope he doesn’t take your words literally, and you think he didn’t because he lets out a content chuckle. But then his smile drops. And you’re stuck in place. He slowly makes his way closer, then he grabs both your hands and stares you straight in the eye.

“I don’t think what I’m feeling right now is simply attraction. I have a lot of experience with that, trust me. But with you, there’s a pull. A pull that I can’t ignore. Hah, I wonder if the Red Hawk man feels it… Maybe that’s why he didn’t want you to go.”

You don’t know what to say. You have no idea why this is happening or why you’re here. And is he serious? A pull of some sort? That’s not good. Pulling means attention and that’s the last thing you need right now. Yet the way he looks at you would make anyone think the whole world revolves around you. And as of now, you have nothing. No one knows you or trusts you. You don’t know how to fight, which is very much required to survive in Teyvet. You need friends, allies, and people who are willing to defend you. And you can’t do that while simply touring around Mondstadt.

“Thank you, for this.” You step closer and you know what you want from him, what you need. You need his trust. “All of this is nice, but I’m more curious about you. I think I feel that same pull with you, to be honest. I want to get to know you better. Where do you live around here? I’m curious to see how people here live.” You’re positive you sound genuine and curious. Good. All is needed to win him over.

He looks surprised, then pleased. All before you’re suddenly tucked into his chest… And a sword is against your throat. You gawk at it, squirming. That wasn’t the smartest thing to do, which caused him to press it against your throat even more. “I might be captivated by you, but I’m not as stupid as you think. Now… Why would anyone try and get into someone's home when they’ve barely known that for a couple of hours? Unless, that certain someone has a plan, of course. I took what Master Jean said to heart. For all I know you could be dangerous. I’ve been watching you closely the whole time. It’s as if you’ve never seen something like a regular town. There are even more impressive ones all over Teyvet. You know what that tells me?”

You know exactly what he’s implying and you feel like you could throw up your organs. Were you going to lose your second chance so easily?

He turns you slightly and you’re finally facing him. Expect all the warmth is gone. His gaze is as cold as his vision and you’re no longer sure if you’ll be able to try and gain him as a companion, let alone civil allies. The sword across your neck is making you start to throb in pain and you’re sure it’s going to leave either a cut or a mark. It hurts.

You can feel Kaeya’s breath against your neck.

“Who are you?”

Suddenly, there’s a bright flash and you’re temporarily blinded, and Kaeya’s holding his left arm up. You can see some blood seeping through. It looks like it’s the same size as the one he created on your neck. But yours is gone.

He’s breathing heavily, confused. Kaeya’s barely standing on his two feet, he’s dizzy. Even though he just practically attempted on your life, you couldn’t blame him for it. He doesn’t trust others. He can’t, it’s not what he’s here for. You don’t know how you get to him so quickly, throwing one of his arms around your shoulder. He seems to be in a more… fatal condition than you were. It’s like he took your injury, only intensified. You have to get him aid. But then again, if you go to anyone else, there’s a good chance you’ll be locked up. You don’t want to imagine an interrogation right now. So, you look at the poor man in your arms and speak softly. You hope that gets you some points, at least.

“Where do you live, Kaeya?” He barely opens his eyelids, having a look on his face that’s in between exhaustion and uncertainty. You think he’s about to shake his head before he blurts it out, surprising the both of you. Now he’s the one gawking at you since you go in the actually direction of his home. How did you even know your way around? That took away some points, didn’t it?

A/N:

A little over two weeks, my apologies. Time flies, 1.5x longer!! Yippeeeee ☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆ I'll get to that Masterlist...

Taglist: Sorry if I tagged you twice!

@esthelily @cosmo112 @fantasyhopperhea @ilxina @aloflapse @mayberaspberrywrites @enjoyjellime @vianitry @blipblopblopblip @fuji-sen @leafanonsforest @cchiiwinkle @annexblogs @akemityan

@uhfhfhfhf @xdrin @msun1c0rn @umi-adxhira @lovingnahida @strrawb3rrysh0rtcak3 @ssecylia @skyl8ver @immahuman @meowmeowraven @01234 @markexplanation @esthelily @dawnofazrael @chickenalfredo4life @eccaza @jun-xiu @klemen-time @delulu-val @everi-eve @cluelesstoeverything @strangersomeone @lapinaenmicoche @alwayslegendarymoon @lumiiiiiiiiii @superninjaarbiter @themonsterunderyourbed69

Borders by @cafekitsune

#fanfic #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #genshin fanfic #simple!creator!au #sagau x reader #genshin sagau #sagau #sagau diluc #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #sagau kaeya #mostly gn (I think)#genhsin impact #genshin impact fanart

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nyoomerr · 4 months ago

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wowwow drabble requests! if you've got time, it'd be fun to see some of binggeyuan daily life where sy realizes that bingge DEFINITELY knows how to do/can easily learn (insert mundane modern-day life skill) but he's playing it up and asking sy to teach him in order to babygirlify himself HAHA

once bingge accidentally stumbles on the benefits of being a pathetic soggy dog for his yuan-ge, he can't help but try and replicate the effect!!

---

Things have been… weird, recently, when it comes to Luo Binghe.

Not that there’s necessarily a ‘normal’ when it comes to demonic ex-emperors living in modern China, but before, it was at least an expected weird. A constant low-lying fear for his life, sort of weird. A constant, less subtle fear for his pride because Luo Binghe is living in his messy apartment, sort of weird.

But then -

Listen, Shen Yuan really hadn’t meant to change things to this degree, okay! It had been completely accidental! If he knew Luo Binghe would start acting like this, he wouldn’t have - he wouldn’t have…

…No, he definitely would have.

Faced with Luo Binghe’s face, damp from tears that he couldn’t swipe away fast enough and blotchy and red and ugly from the embarrassment -

Faced with the small, panicked hitches of Luo Binghe’s breath, and the way his mouth had fallen slightly open to try and breath through the tears -

Faced with the way Luo Binghe’s eyelashes had matted together and his lips had shone from the way he had nervously wet them with a perfectly pink tongue, and the way his skin had smelled like salt and fear and -

Shen Yuan has to very forcibly dismiss the thought. He frequently has to dismiss the memory of Luo Binghe crying, the smell and feel and look of it burned into Shen Yuan’s very core and yet wildly distracting.

And… other feelings. Other feelings that had led to that first time, where Luo Binghe had cried and Shen Yuan had stared at him, enraptured, until he’d done something utterly foolish that ended up turning Luo Binghe weird!

“Yuan-ge,” Luo Binghe whines. Shen Yuan steadfastly does not look at him. “Yuan-ge, I don’t know how to do this…”

If Shen Yuan doesn’t acknowledge it, it isn’t happening! Luo Binghe will not be so - so -!

“...Yuan-ge, I really don’t know…” Luo Binghe sniffles.

Fuck!! Shen Yuan thinks. I’ve done this!! I’ve turned him weird!! I’ve turned him - pathetic!!!

“It’s the dishwasher,” Shen Yuan grits out, still refusing to look. “You have definitely used the dishwasher before.”

“No,” Luo Binghe lies, “I’ve been washing things by hand because I didn’t trust your machine to get it right.”

“Then wash it by hand this time too,” Shen Yuan says mercilessly.

“...I cut my hand making dinner earlier, so the dish soap would sting.”

Shen Yuan turns to look at Luo Binghe, confused. “What? Can’t you just heal it -”

There’s a moment that seems to happen in slow motion: Shen Yuan catches Luo Binghe’s eyes, and they look very, very satisfied, in the dangerous way that a manipulative little bitch looks before getting you exactly where they want you.

Caught you, that expression says.

And then Luo Binghe’s expression morphs into one that actually matches the whiney tone he’d been using, his eyes going wet and shiny and his lips pursing in a devastating pout. Shen Yuan… really never should have looked, no matter what lines Luo Binghe threw out!!

“Yuan-ge, come show me?” Luo Binghe simpers.

Shen Yuan tries to look away. His gaze catches on the way Luo Binghe’s face is starting to turn a ruddy pink, and the perfect pearl of liquid pooling in the corner of one of his eyes. He fails to look away.

Still, he valiantly tries to resist. “...Just press the button, Binghe.”

“Which button? There’s - there’s so many, Yuan-ge…”

Shen Yuan swallows thickly. His mind is replaying the sound of Luo Binghe’s voice cracking over and over and over.

“The - the one that says ‘start,’ obviously, stop asking questions you already know the answer to -”

Luo Binghe sniffles. It’s an ugly wet snotty sound, and Shen Yuan should be grossed out by it and should be able to look away.

Shen Yuan’s eyes follow the movement of a tear falling in a sad wet line down Luo Binghe’s cheeks instead, enraptured.

Still, he manages to stay right where he is, not coming a step closer to Luo Binghe where he stands by the dishwasher. It’s a little late to fix this weirdness from Luo Binghe entirely, but - maybe it can be mitigated if Shen Yuan stops feeding into it!

There’s a moment of silence, the two of them only staring at each other.

Then - Luo Binghe’s expression doesn’t change entirely, but there’s suddenly an edge to it that wasn’t there before. It doesn’t quite suit the pathetic, wet look he’d clearly been leaning into a moment prior, but -

Shen Yuan swallows again uselessly. It suits Luo Binghe very, very well, looking clever and manipulative even as he cries.

“If I ask the question I really want to know the answer to, then,” Luo Binghe says slowly, sniffling for dramatic effect, “will you promise to answer it?”

Shen Yuan definitely should not agree.

“Okay,” he agrees weakly.

“Then: how much more do I have to cry before Yuan-ge decides to top again tonight?” Luo Binghe asks sweetly, even as another tear slides down his face.

…Ah, fuck, Shen Yuan really went and messed up a perfectly good stallion protagonist!!

#alternative more serious version of this prompt has bingge just acting a bit less capable than he really is in order to get sy to help him #sy calls him out and bingge replies very seriously and a bit shamefully: “...is it wrong if i want to be the wife this time?”#and then sy is KO'd by that wifebeam before he can gather himself to have a talk about how you CAN be a wife wo being a damsel in distress!#svsss #binggeyuan #fic drabble

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whereireid · 2 years ago

Text

𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐍 | masterlist

pairing: senator!steve rogers x fem!reader

⍟ — nsfw content ahead. soft!dom steve. married life. housewife kink. oral [f receiving]. degradation of reader.

Summary: Your husband, Senator Steve Rogers, has been acting strange recently. He makes it up to you after he catches you snooping.

You don’t want to snoop on your husband.

Honest, you don’t.

Sometimes, though, duty calls. It feels like a crime to be in Steve’s office, perched at his desk, attempting to hack into his computer.

You’ve tried three different passwords, now. The first, the name of your daughter, and her date of birth — BeauRogers2012. The second, your anniversary — 19October2007. And, finally, the name of the family dog — CooperRogers.

Nothing. There’s nothing. All to no avail, the screen lighting a shade of red with each incorrect guess, your lips tugging down into a frown as you try to pinpoint exactly what his password could be.

If it’s not Beau, and it’s not you, and it’s not the family dog… then what is it?

Your eyes scan his office, desperate for a moment of realisation. You want something to click, your eyes dragging from a photograph of him and Bucky, to the miniature American flag which sits on his desk.

That’s it.

107thInfantryRegiment.

The computer lets you in. Steve’s desktop background is a photograph of you, him and Beau — baby Beau, curled in her daddy’s arms, asleep, in a pumpkin patch.

You pause. You feel bad, snooping, hesitating as you stare at the pixelated desktop background.

You feel awful, but you have to know what he’s getting up to.

Your lips press together as you swallow away the tightness in your throat, dragging the mouse towards his emails. Before you press down, you hesitate — Steve has never given you a reason not to trust him.

Yet, you’re in, now. You might as well look whilst you’re there, and you’re glad that you do, because a particular name piques your interest as you snoop through his emails.

Sharon Carter.

Steve’s ex-assistant, although you’d always assumed she was more than that. She helped your husband climb to the position of Senator — she was his number one fan, more obsessed with him than you.

Your brows knit together. Steve had told you that him and Sharon no longer speak, as a result of her switching to the Republican to spite him. This — these emails, which go back for months — is unfathomable evidence that he’s been lying to you. Your throat feels cotton dry as you frantically scroll, unable to comprehend that they’ve been communicating for months without you knowing.

“What are you doing?”

Fear cracks through your body like a whip. You feel like a thin sheet of ice, cold flooding through your body as your eyes dart up from the computer screen, focused on your husband, who appears unamused by what he’s found.

“So, what are you doing?” Steve repeats when you don’t answer, his lips pursed as he stares at you. The suit he’s wearing is somewhat tight on his arms, and you can see his muscles flex beneath his clothes. “Be a big girl and use your words, honey.”

“You’re — you’re messaging Sharon Carter.”

His eyebrows quirk upwards in amusement. “You went through my emails,” he comments, “without my permission.”

“You’re messaging Sharon Carter,” you repeat, your voice coming out a whisper.

The look that he gives you is degrading. It’s a look of pity — his jaw ticks slightly as he cocks his head, his tongue darting over his plump, pink lips, leaving a glistening sheen in its wake. “And you’re going through my emails,” he reiterates, pushing himself off of the doorframe. “Without my permission.”

“Are you cheating on me?”

An amused expression flitters over Steve’s face as he approaches you. You feel timid in his chair, his large frame overbearing as he looms over you, the blue irises of his eyes impossibly sheathed by his black and blown pupils.

“Cheating?” He asks, beginning to lower himself to your height. You brows furrow in confusion as he kneels in front of you, his hands placing themselves on your knees. “No. Why? Did you think that I was?”

“Yes.”

“Liar,” Steve whispers from beneath you, your skin prickling with goosebumps as his fingers run over the pleated fabric of your skirt. “You just wanted to know what I’ve been doing.”

You push at Steve’s head, forcing him to look up at you. You frown, a twisted warmth pooling inside of your stomach as his hand caresses the plump flesh of your thighs. “Yeah. You’ve been doing her.”

He snorts. “If I wanted Barbie, I would’ve had Barbie.” His hand beckons your thighs apart, and you flush as his hums in content. “No underwear. Whore.”

Your face flushes with warmth. "That’s what you like, isn’t it?”

Steve grins, his fingers parting your folds softly, his knuckle pressing against your swollen clit. You try to kill the moan which climbs up your throat before it can slip past your lips, but it refuses to die. “Like music to my ears,” he comments, his stubble grazing your skin as he peppers deliberate kisses to your thighs, his tongue a cool stimulant to your hot skin, “you’re a naughty girl, you know? Going through my things and then getting all worked up over what you find.”

You can’t bare to look down at his smug face. His blue eyes twinkle as he gazes up at you, and you force your eyes shut, the delicious, dirty feeling of desire brooding inside of you. It pulls at your heart and burns wildly inside of you, only to be smothered by the feeling of his fingers gliding through your folds.

“Aren’t you going to tell me what you found?”

You shake your head, your eyes scrunching shut as his tongue finally makes contact with your heat. “Oh, God,” you whimper as he glides the muscle through your folds, his fingers pushing inside of your cunt.

“Not God. Just Steve.”

His lips twitch, tugging upwards with a smile. Pleasure rides through you in a gentle wave as his tongue makes contact with your clit, his motions gentle as he suckles on the sensitive bundle of nerves.

It feels so deliciously wrong. You’re in his office, sat in his chair, with him between your legs. He wasn’t even meant to find you here — you were supposed to be in the kitchen when he got home, but you’d lost track of time.

“Since you won’t tell me, I’ll make an assumption, and I want you to tell me if I’m right.” His voice is gravely, rumbling against your cunt, and you shiver as his fingers curl inside of you. “You went through my emails. You saw Sharon Carter’s name and you had to click, and you read them in detail and you found information.”

“Yes,” you say shakily, groaning as his nose nuzzles into your pelvic bone, his tongue rolling small circles into your sensitive bud. “Yes, I read them. She’s — she’s a bitch and I don’t want you talking to her.”

His brows quirk upwards, his fingers carefully scissoring your tight cunt open. You clench down around him, the pointed look he’s shouting you making you tense. “She’s my spy. Why else would she have switched to Republican last minute?”

“Because you married me and she wishes it was her.”

A wave of pleasure ripples through you as he suckles on your clit, his fingers heavenly as they roll inside of you. “Is she the one getting her cunt eaten in my office, honey?” When you don’t answer, he hums, his voice muffled as he continues to roll his tongue up and down your sticky, wet folds, “no, she’s not, so stop being a brat and let me finish speaking.”

As if to make a point, his fingers still inside of you, and your chest burns with disappointment. “Okay. I’ll stop being a brat,” you submit to him, your voice shaking slightly as you buck your pelvis towards his hand.

“Good girl." His praise makes you shiver, a delicious pleasure crackling through you as his fingers contain their steady motions, his lips peppering soft kisses against your heat intermittently

“The information that you found is very important people, only meant to be seen by people in government.” A delicious pleasure cracks through you like a whip as his fingers glide through your glistening folds, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he rolls his thumb over your sensitive clit. “And, honey, you're not in government. You've got too much of a dumb baby brain for that."

You whine, your legs trembling involuntary as Steve licks up a deliberate stripe up your cunt, his tongue flattening against your clit. "I'm not dumb," you protest weakly, your thighs tensing as his fingers curl inside of you, the lewd squelching of your cunt echoing around his office walls.

Your body becomes electric with sparks, exploding with ecstasy as his tongue licks stripes up and down your slick. It's so intimate, so gentle — his movements are precise, your legs jolting at every movement, every lick.

"Really? You're not?" Steve pulls away, tutting from below you. "Oh, I'm sorry. I thought that only dumb wives went through their husband's stuff without permission."

"I'm sorry," you say.

"You're not," he replies, his tongue flat as he swirls his muscle around your swollen bud, "but that's okay, honey. I don't expect my wife and her dumb, baby brain to feel sorry for me. I'm the man of this house. I don't need feeling sorry for."

His kisses grow sloppy, his nose pressing heavily into your pelvis. You let out a shaky breath, your stomach flipping as Steve's fingers glide in and out of your cunt. A moan catches in your throat, and you're unsure of whether or not it actually escapes your lips or dies before it gets to do so.

Steve's movements are skilled, deliberate. You melt into the office chair, the leather fabric growing slick beneath you as you softly behind to grind against his face. He's slow and teasing, his tongue swirling around you bud, nipping at it softly. The pinching pain makes you gasp, your breath hitching in your throat as he groans against your cunt.

"Come on, honey. I know you want to let go," he purrs against your cunt, the sensation sending shivers up your spine. "I know you're not holding that much of a grudge against me that you're denying yourself of an orgasm."

You pout. He's right — of course he's right, he's your husband and he knows what's best for you. You finally allow yourself to relax, fully, a soft whimper slipping past your lips as Steve's movements makes your stomach tighten.

And then, it happens. You grow tired of holding back, needy and desperate, and Steve's fingers curl inside of you again, and you let go. Your slick paints his face, your legs trembling as he laps at your heat, his groans sending sparks to your core.

By the time he pulls away, you feel weak. The sight of him only makes you grow weaker, his chin glistening with your slick, his eyes black and blown, a sultry grin tugging at the corner of his lips. His hand runs over his lips and he hums, satisfied with the orgasm that he drew from you.

"I'm sorry, honey. You should have never seen those emails, or the documents attached to them. They're not for you to be concerned about." His hand runs over your thighs, his motions gentle and soft as he caresses your skin. Steve's lips purse, his voice dropping dangerously low as he speaks. "But if you ever go through my emails again, you'll be in serious trouble. You got that, honey?"

Your body grows stiff as he reaches past you to turn the computer off, his lips nestling against your head in the process. The kiss he plants to your forehead is soft and gentle, and you smile up at him.

“Yes, Steve.”

You nod your head like an obedient little wife, and he smiles down at you as he does so.

Domesticated bliss keeps him sane.

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blackynsupremacy · 21 days ago

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GETTING EVEN

pairing: nicholas chavez x black!fem!reader

summary: you’re getting fed up with nicholas staying out so late at god knows what time with god knows who. the bad vibe is literally causing you to lose sleep. when one of your friends shows you a screenshot of nicholas looking cozy with his ex, you decide that instead of losing sleep, you wait up for him and let him know you’re not the one to be played with.

contains: lots of words, swearing, established but toxic relationship, mentions of cheating, lying, gaslighting, swearing, angst, anger, arguing, implied/ambiguous breakup.

taglist: @sabrinasopposite @supaprettyg @jkr820 @simply-the-best23 @zombigrlll @ellethespaceunicorn @gxuxhdjdu @elitesanjisimp @afrowrites @rosiestalez

it’s nearing one a.m. and your boyfriend of two years, nicholas chavez, has been coming home late—too late every night to be exact. you’ve just been having a bad vibe lately and it’s been eating at you for a good month. the anxiety has been getting so drastic, you’ve been losing sleep. you’re up tossing and turning in your empty shared bed, endlessly thinking about what the hell he could be doing and with who until you hear the door unlock and you’d have to pretend to sleep. he’d bend down to place a kiss atop of your forehead and leave to shower, change, and lay on his side until he’d fall into a deep slumber. you would ignore all of the subtle signs: the smell of perfume that wasn’t yours, keeping his phone face down when you’re around, and constantly on his phone when he thought you weren’t around. you wanted so badly to snatch his phone from the night stand, or at least check the constant buzzing notifications, but your heart was battling against your brain. you had to trust him. you trusted him with your mind. your body. most importantly, your heart. he wouldn’t betray the things he’s supposedly loved and cherished with his entire being, right? wrong. you understood that nicholas’ acting career was on the rise and you couldn’t be more proud of him and his success, but you knew that with fame, came with attention. lots of attention. your boyfriend was fine as hell, so you’d consider yourself lucky, but as of lately, not so much. another thing you understood with his career came events that involved traveling and parties. you’ve been on a couple of trips yourself with nicholas, but as time went on, it’s becoming less frequent.

a few hours ago, your friend sent a screenshot that almost made you chuck your phone against your full body mirror. it was a photo of nicholas looking quite comfortable in a love seat and his arm was around someone else. this someone else wasn’t just some random off the street, it was his ex. you’d never try to be insecure in your relationship, but what got you tight was that victoria looked good as hell and nicholas was eating it up with that shit eating grin smiling in her face. tonight was the final straw. you were fed the fuck up. if he wanted to step out and smile in bitches faces like he was single, you might as well confront him on the matter and get your lick back all in one. you devised a plan. the classic sit in the dark and reveal yourself when he comes home type of ambush. you prepare yourself by showering and spritzing on your favorite perfume which also happened to be nicholas’ favorite. you pull out your strapless black velvet body con dress with a silvery low cut lining. you’d just bought it, so nicholas never had the chance to get a glimpse of it. after tonight, that’s all he’s gonna get. a teeny tiny glimpse. you wear nothing, but a red laced thong underneath before pairing the dress with black and silver wrap up heels. after perfecting your hair and makeup, you slip a black satin robe over your ensemble. you check the time to see its five minutes til’ one. nicholas has created a pattern of this kind of thing, so he should be back within exactly five minutes. you return to the foyer, shutting off the lights to give off the illusion to nicholas that you were asleep, better yet unsuspecting. you made yourself comfortable in the large armchair next to a floor lamp to sit with one leg over the other, awaiting his arrival. your stomach was in knots, but your head was on fire and your heart was on the brink of heartbreak when you hear the lock click and the front door slowly creaking open. nicholas was home. you noticed how deliberate his movements were. moving as if he were trying not to wake the dead. as soon as he made sure the door was shut and locked, he took a few steps towards the stairs to your shared bedroom, but came to a halt when the flicker of a lamp shown an amber glow in the corner of the foyer where you were seated. he jolted and held a tight grip close to where his heart is.

“going somewhere?” you question, tapping your heel against the hardwood floors. your brown eyes cutting a scrutinizing gaze towards this person who was supposed to love, please, and cherish you stood dumbfounded at your presence as if you haven’t been living here for a year.

“shit! fuck, y/n! you scared the hell out of me. it’s really late, babe, shouldn’t you be in bed?” he questions, he’s sort of fidgeting by smoothing his hands down his clothes and running one of them through his chocolate tresses.

“i don’t know, nicholas. shouldn’t you have been home like an hour ago? don’t try to look at me like that because i’m not stupid. you told me that after party ended at eleven. it’s damn near one, so tell me, babe, where were you tonight?” you quizzed with your elbow on the the arm rest of the chair, your french full set fingertips tap against your bronze toned face.

“y/n, i’m not sure what you’re assuming, but the after party ran a little late. there was so much to do and people to see, you know?” he answers with a shrug, his brown eyes glance over to somewhere on the wall before landing on you again. you quirk a brow at his response. time to reel his ass in. you pull out your phone and tap on your photos. you made sure the screenshot had today’s date with the time, let’s see how he’ll get out of this one. you get up from the chair and saunter across the foyer to where he is. with a tight lipped smile, you keep your eyes on the incriminating picture of the two. the clicking of your heels reverberate through the room before you stop right in front of him with one arm under your chest and the other, holding up the picture for him to see. you caught his cheeks flame with red and his face falters with the realization of the main problem at hand: himself. with a click of your tongue, you smirk.

“people to see, huh? i think you meant just one person. i just find it funny how my adoring and loyal man can explain to me why in the fuck he’s grinning in his ex’s face with his arm all around her like he hasn’t been in a committed, loving relationship for two goddamn years?” you tilt your head as you see the gears in his mind turn to conjure up either the cold, hard truth or a bullshit excuse.

“if you’re thinking what you think it is, y/n, then you’re seriously fucked in the head. victoria just happened to be there and we just caught up that’s all. it’s all a coincidence, so whatever you think you’re doing is gonna work, it sure as hell won’t work.” he combats in such a serious manner, his own lips tighten and muscles tense.

“that’s some bullshit, nicholas, and you know it! so if i were at a party and happened to see my ex, keith powers, and i just so happened to sit in his lap, drink my wine, and have my whole ass face in his after being broken up for over a year, you wouldn’t find any of that suspicious?! it makes me fucked in the head for thinking that, huh? i’m fucked in the head for assuming you’re stepping out because you won’t touch me in bed, or when i smell that perfume when you kiss me when i’m supposed to be sleeping, and as for you and that phone, i could go on and on, but i’m fucked in the head!? fuck you!” as the volume of your voice raised, you started to get vulnerable as it cracked, but refused to let any tears ruin this face beat for tonight. you took a deep breath and blink up to the ceiling while adjusting your hair as he spoke.

“i’m telling you, y/n. you’ve got it all wrong! you know i would nev—” nicholas’ breath caught in his throat as he watched you untie the robe and letting it cascade down to the floor to reveal your outfit for tonight. he blushed as his eyes raked your figure. that dress hugged every single curve perfectly. to him, you looked so alluring, so damn tantalizing. if you guys weren’t having this argument, he’d ripped that shit off and gave you what you should’ve been given this past month right up against the wall. he was kicking himself in the ass for it as he watched you smooth out your dress and type away on your phone. nicholas swallows before filling in the tense silence,

“where the fuck are you going wearing that?” he aggressively interrogates. you pause your typing to shoot him an furrowed, icy glance.

“i’ll tell you when you tell me the fucking truth, asshole.” you retort with venom in your words.

he shuts his eyes, his broad chest heaving with frustration trying to keep this innocent facade barely alive.

“y/n, for the last goddamn time, it’s not what you think it is, so i suggest you stay your ass at home if you know what’s good—” you cut him off with a sharp quickness.

“what’s good for me? you know what would be good for me? when you admit that you royally fucked me, that’s what’s good. nicholas alexander chavez, you got one last fucking chance, or i’m going out to do exactly what you’ve been doing.”

“i’m serious, y/n, if you walk out of that fucking door, i’ll—”

“you’ll what? drop me? baby boy, i’m just giving you the same energy you’ve been giving me. the fuck would you drop me for? hell, you’ve already caused me not to trust you, nicholas, and that’s all i’ve given you and so much more!” nicholas stood there frozen and before you could rip into him some more, you’re interrupted by the sound of a horn blaring outside, that sounded like meg had pulled up to scoop you from this mess. you take your purse and walk up to him to whisper in his ear,

“i’m gone. don’t check for me or text me unless it’s with the truth. if you’re a good boy, we might work it out because i’m a good ass woman, but as a good ass woman, i deserve better.” you press your finger to your chest. “don’t wait up too late, nicholas.” with a palm caressing his jawline, you place a red marked kiss upon his tanned cheek and intentionally bump into his arm as you exit out of your house with a harsh slam of the door. your were confidently sauntering down the driveway with a sway of your hips and a grin of satisfaction playing on your face. you saw the large, black suv that was awaiting for your departure. with all of the anxiety, depression, insecurity, and anger aside, this was your ticket to get even. as you do so, nicholas throws himself into a fit of rage. a rage against himself for being so selfish, so neglectful, and so stupid that his fist flies into the wall to create a gaping hole.

“FUCK!” he exclaims, holding his injured hand. that didn’t hurt as much as the heartbreak he’s inflicted on you. nicholas had fucked all the way up. he was sure that it would be a cold day in hell before he could even think of convincing you into giving him another chance.

#black reader #nicholas chavez fic #nicholas chavez fanfiction #nicholas chavez imagine #nicholas chavez x y/n #nicholas alexander chavez x black reader #nicholas alexander chavez imagine #nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez fluff #nicholas chavez angst #x black reader #x black!reader #black girl #x black!fem!reader #x black fem reader #angst

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iguessweallcrazyithinktho · 5 months ago

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So it's come to my attention a little birdy @judegossip has been lying about shit on here. I'm honestly ok with most gossip account everyone is on their own thing, it's cool, but this girl in particular is a fucking mess.

First off I make a post saying y'all need to be careful with what you're posting on here because rightfully so, football player teams look on social media(especially Jude. This isn't an opinion or a guess it's a fucking fact) to see what bullshit y'all say to damage his reputation and what not, And not even a few hours later she makes a post saying Toby messaged her.

BUT ACTUALLY HE DIDN'T! She got someone else to message her and make it seem like it was Toby

Don't read any further if you don't like gossip. You've been warned!

The account (who I have no problems with btw) made up a fake story at her request and she proceeded to post acting as if Toby was the one who sent that shit to her ass

Not only is she deranged but she's also clearly lying and her anons are obviously making fanfictions against Jude. Now I want to tell you, as someone who has had a gossip account before I know for a fact you can send anons to yourself through desktop. And people lie because it's easy. Not only is she trying to make it out as if Jude is gay she also keeps making claims Jude has had a 3some with Toby and she has a picture of said 3some taking place. And Jude is some shitty ex boyfriend because "someone close to Jude" came to Tumblr and told you.(I've heard that one before too lol)

My momma didn't raise a fucking fool. As I stated people make stuff up and I have once or twice lied about knowing something or having something when I didn't for attention (stupid right? I know. I was young and dumb)

Also her talking about toby potential nose job why do you gaf exactly? She clearly has some weird beef with Toby for no fucking reason at all. Here she is continuing to feed into this shit, lying to her anons as if she wasn't the one making this up

She's homophobic and also she's a zonist apparently (the account who messaged me has proof of that). I doubt this woman is a real jude fan the way she talks about this man and his family and friends.

Now idgaf if her or her little minions come at me( nothing you say will hurt my feelings. Everything is funny to me) but I refuse to sit here and let someone do this shit. Not only is it deranged but clearly she's a serial attention seeker who ego is driven by people anonymous messaging her. I don't know if you're a fucking child or something but you need help babe and I hope you get it because you need that shit

I don't want to be a gossip account so I won't answer too many anons on this. Instead I'll answer something via tags or message me and I'll explain. I will also not be tagging any post after this unless necessary to do so. The tags are supposed to be a fun place, not a shitty one. (also I don't care if you share this anywhere else other than Tumblr)

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #england nt #jude gossip #jobe bellingham #real madrid #england national team

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itneverendshere · 4 months ago

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played me like a clarinet - rafe cameron

request: "Desperately-on my knees-begging for a ''She's all that'' from 1999, with Popular Rafe x Reader. Ooouff, and you want that soul crushing heartbreak when she finds out about the bet he had made"

pairing: rafe x smart!nerdy!reader warnings: angst <3; VERY LONG

wrote this listening to roses <3

Rafe Cameron held grudges better than anyone and his ex was about to witness exactly that.

Fucking Jessica Green liked to think of herself as the queen of their university, the epitome of beauty and popularity. Some real high school bullshit he only fed because he liked her. And then, she went and dumped him for none other than Tyler West, the star player of his rival basketball team. Technically, she cheated on him, sneaking around with that piece of shit behind his back.

The humiliation was killing him.

Rafe wasn't one to take such things lying down; he wanted revenge, and he wanted it badly. He wanted to ruin her life. It wasn’t just enough to ruin her reputation—he wanted to hit her where it hurt the most. And what would hurt more than being replaced? Not just by any girl, but by someone who was everything she wasn’t. It was a genius idea, really. To prove that some loser could easily take her place, with a little help of course.

And that’s when he noticed you.

Kelce pointed you out actually, when they were six beers in and too fucking drunk to think clearly. But it was still a good choice.

You were the complete opposite of his ex, blending into the crowds like it was your superpower. He watched you for an entire hour at the party. You didn’t utter a single word the entire time you were there, only nursing your drink and listening to the other girls on the cheerleading squad speak.

Hell, he didn’t even know you were a cheerleader until that night.

Were you always there? How had he never noticed you before? It was hard to remember when all he focused on up until then was Jessica.

You were practically invisible in comparison to her, always on the sidelines, blending into the background.

You were perfect.

If he could take this overlooked, nerdy girl and turn her into the new queen of the university, it would be the ultimate blow to Jessica's ego. It would prove that she wasn’t as irreplaceable as she thought.

“You really gonna do it?”

He didn’t take his eyes off you, “Oh yeah. ‘M doing it.”

“Nahh, there’s no way you’re pulling this off.”

Rafe leaned back in his chair, a cocky grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. Kelce’s skepticism was exactly what he expected, and honestly, it made the challenge even sweeter.

“You think so?” he said, his tone light but with an edge of determination. “Watch me.”

Kelce, always the instigator, leaned forward with a smirk. “Come on, Cameron. You really think you can turn that quiet little thing into the next Jessica? She’s cute, I guess, in that nerdy way, but she’s not queen material.”

Rafe’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he kept his cool. “She’s got potential,” he said confidently. “Just needs someone to show her how to use it.”

Topper laughed, shaking his head. “You’re insane. This isn’t some movie where the shy girl takes off her glasses and suddenly she’s hot. Jessica had something that can’t be taught.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Rafe pointed out, “It’s all about confidence man. Jessica wasn’t born the way she is now. She learned how to act the part, and I can do the same with her.”

Like a school project, he thought to himself. That’s all you were.

Kelce took a swig of his drink, clearly enjoying where the conversation was going. “Alright, I’ll bite. How much time are we talking here? Because she’s got a long way to go, my guy.”

Rafe tilted his head, considering. “Give me two months. By the end of it, she’ll be turning heads. Maybe even more.”

Topper snorted, setting his drink down with a thunk. “Two months? No way. I’ll bet you a grand you can’t pull it off.”

Kelce laughed, clapping his hands together. “Oh, this is gonna be good. I’m in. A grand says you can’t turn her into the hottest girl in school.”

Rafe’s eyes glinted with determination. “You’re on,” he said, without hesitation. “In a month or two, you’ll be handing me that fucking cash, and she’ll be the one everyone’s talking about. Looking all pretty in my arms.”

Kelce raised his glass. “To Rafe and his miracle project. This is gonna be fun to watch.”

Topper shook his head again, still grinning as he clinked his glass against Kelce’s. “Here’s to you wasting a month of your life on a lost cause.”

He clinked his glass with theirs, the bet sealed.

“You better start saving up.”

This plan was flawless.

It was so good that even in his drunken haze, he could see how perfectly it would play out. The first step was simple: get close to you. Make you feel special, noticed, like you were someone who mattered. Rafe knew how to charm people; it was practically second nature. And with Jessica, it had been easy—too easy. She’d fallen for his looks, his confidence, his golden boy appeal.

The next day, he started showing up at places he knew you’d be. The library, the campus coffee shop, even lingering around after cheerleading practice. At first, he didn’t approach you, just observed.

He had to figure out how to crack the code, how to make you see him without scaring you off. It took a week before he made his first move.

You were sitting alone in the library, surrounded by textbooks and notes. He casually strolled up, pretending to be looking for a book on the same shelf. “Hey,” he said, glancing down at you with a disarming smile. “You’re in my econ class, right? Mind if I sit here?”

You looked up, a little startled, but nodded, shifting your books to make room for him. You probably couldn’t believe that someone like Rafe Cameron was talking to you, let alone sitting with you. But that was the whole point, wasn’t it? To make you feel special, to pull you out of your shell and into his orbit.

He knew he still had to tread carefully. The wrong move could send you running, and he couldn’t afford that.

You kept your eyes down, focused on your notes. He noticed the way your hand shook slightly when you turned the page. Rafe leaned in a little closer, just enough to make his presence known without crowding you.

“You always this buried in work?” he asked casually, pulling out a notebook and flipping it open.

You glanced up, surprised he was still there. “I guess. I have a lot to catch up on.”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “I hear you. Econ’s been kicking my ass this semester. You doing okay in it?”

He could tell you were surprised. Probably didn't expect him to know you shared the same class. And he didn't, until last week.

You hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, it’s… fine. Just a lot of material.”

“Tell me about it,” he said, rolling his eyes dramatically. “I’ve been trying to wrap my head around these supply and demand curves for days. You think the professor’s trying to torture us?”

You smiled faintly, a small victory in his book. “Maybe. It’s kind of her thing.”

Rafe grinned, pleased that he got a reaction out of you. “You mind if I study with you? Might help to bounce some ideas off each other.”

You blinked, clearly taken aback by his request. “Um, sure. I mean, if you want.”

“Definitely,” he replied smoothly. “You seem like you actually know what’s going on, unlike me.”

He spent the next hour working alongside you, occasionally asking questions, but mostly just being there. He didn’t push, didn’t try too hard. He wanted you to get comfortable with him, to see him as someone you could rely on.

“I’m sorry about Jessica.”

The way you blurted the words out told him you hadn’t meant to say it.

Rafe froze, his grip tightening on the pen in his hand. He could feel the familiar anger bubbling up, but he forced it down, keeping his expression calm. This was exactly what he didn’t want—Jessica’s name being brought up, especially by you.

But he couldn’t let you see that.

He looked at you, feigning surprise with a bit of sadness, as if Jessica was just a painful memory he was trying to move past. “Oh,” he said softly, his voice controlled and measured. “You know about that?”

You nodded, eyes wide and apologetic, clearly regretting bringing it up. “Yeah… I mean, it’s all over campus, right? The girls were talking about it in the locker room. I just—I didn’t mean to…I’m sorry.”

Rafe forced a smile, as if he was grateful for your concern. He leaned back in his chair, letting out a small sigh as if he was relieved to talk about it, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do. “It’s okay,” he said, his tone gentle. “I guess it’s just one of those things, y’know? We were together for a while, and it sucked when it ended.”

You looked down at your notes, fidgeting with the corner of a page.

“She shouldn’t have done that to you.”

He let out a dry laugh, the bitterness threatening to seep through, but he quickly disguised it as a rueful chuckle. “Yeah, well, people do shitty things sometimes. Guess it just wasn’t meant to be.”

He noticed the way you seemed to relax as if you were relieved that he wasn’t angry. He needed to shift the conversation away from Jessica, and back to you, where it should be. “But hey,” he said, his voice brightening as if he was genuinely trying to shake off the bad memories, “Everything happens for a reason right?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden attention. “Right."

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze locking onto yours. “You’re not like everyone else around here. You’re real, y’know? Genuine. I like that.”

Bullshit. But he could see the effect his words had on you. Easy.

Your cheeks flushed slightly, and you looked away, a small, shy smile playing on your lips. “I’m just…here.”

Rafe shook his head, his smile softening, taking on a more sincere tone. “I’m glad I’m getting the chance to see that.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, just looked at him with those wide eyes, as if you were trying to figure him out. Rafe held your gaze, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make the moment feel meaningful, even though he knew exactly what he was doing. He was reeling you in, one calculated move at a time.

Finally, you nodded, lips twitching, “Thanks, Rafe."

Oh, you were too perfect for this.

He grinned, leaning back in his chair as if the conversation had lightened his mood.

“Anytime."

It was a perfect conversation, one that made you feel like he was letting you in on something personal, something real. And from the look on your face, it worked.

But inside, Rafe was fuming. Jessica had managed to worm her way into his head again, even indirectly. It was a reminder of why he was doing this in the first place.

He plastered on another smile, picking up his pen and tapping it lightly against his notebook. “So,” he said, steering the conversation back to safer waters, “You think you can help me with this econ stuff? Because I’m pretty sure I’m doomed without you.”

You laughed, the tension from earlier completely dissipating. “Yeah, I think I can manage that.”

As you both turned your attention back to your notes, Rafe felt a sense of satisfaction. He was winning that bet on way or another.

Over the next few weeks, Rafe made sure to stick to his plan. Slowly but surely, he worked his way into your life. He was always around, ready with a casual compliment or a small gesture that made you feel noticed, special. He’d walk you to class, carry your books, and offer to study with you whenever he had the chance. He knew how to play the long game, and with every passing day, you were warming up to him more and more.

He made sure to steer clear of anything that might remind you of Jessica or his past. Instead, he focused on building up your confidence, subtly encouraging you to step out of your comfort zone.

He’d invite you to parties, introducing you to his friends, and before long, you were starting to come out of your shell. You even started to dress a little differently—nothing too drastic, but enough to catch people’s attention. The change was gradual, but it was happening, and Rafe could see it.

The first party he invited you to was at a swanky off-campus house, the kind of place you’d only ever heard about but never had the nerve to attend. He had that effect on you—made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you belonged in a world that had always seemed so out of reach.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Rafe said, his voice smooth as silk. You hesitated, biting your lip, feeling out of place just imagining yourself in his world.

“I don’t know… I’m not really into parties,” you admitted.

Rafe grinned, a playful glint in his eyes. “I promise I won’t let anything bad happen. Just give it a try, for me?”

His gaze was so earnest, so convincing, that you found yourself nodding. “Okay. I guess I could give it a shot.”

The first party was initially awkward—loud music, people you didn’t know, and a social scene that felt worlds away from where you belonged.

But Rafe stayed close.

The moment you walked in, the loud music and flashing lights overwhelmed your senses. You clung a little closer to him, who noticed and shot you a reassuring smile, his hand resting on the small of your back as he guided you through the crowd. He was different tonight—more confident, more assertive.

“Relax,” he whispered in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re with me. Have some fun, sweets.”

You nodded, trying to loosen up, but the eyes on you—on both of you—were hard to ignore. People were noticing. Whispering. It was exactly what Rafe wanted.

He led you to where Kelce and Topper were already posted up, drinks in hand. The second they saw you, their eyebrows shot up, but they quickly masked their surprise with easy smiles. Rafe kept you close as he greeted them, his hand never leaving your back.

“Guys, this is her,” Rafe said, his tone casual but with a hint of pride. “Told you I’d get her to come out with us.”

Kelce looked you up and down, his smirk growing. “Well, well, Cameron. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

Topper raised his drink in your direction, his smile more genuine. “Nice to meet you. Rafe’s been talking you up.”

You managed a small chuckle, feeling the weight of their attention on you. “Nice to meet you too.”

Rafe gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Why don’t you grab a drink? I’ll be right here.”

You nodded, grateful for the brief escape, and headed towards the makeshift bar in the kitchen. As soon as you were out of earshot, the easygoing demeanor Rafe had been maintaining with you slipped away, replaced by something more calculating as he turned back to his friends.

“So?” Kelce asked, “How’s the project going?”

Rafe shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. “Better than expected. She’s starting to come out of her shell. Still got a long way to go, but I’d say we’re on track.”

Topper leaned against the counter, his gaze following you as you picked out a drink. “She seems… nice. You sure you want to go through with this, man?”

Rafe shot him a look, his expression hardening. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Topper shrugged. “Just saying. She doesn’t seem like the type who’s cut out for this crowd. Might be too sweet for what you’ve got planned.”

Kelce chuckled, shaking his head. “She’s sweet, alright. But that’s the whole point, isn’t it? She’s not Jessica. And if he pulls this off, it’s gonna be legendary.”

Rafe’s lips curled into a smirk. “Exactly. She’s perfect for this.”

He said it with confidence, but there was something else in his eyes—something he quickly buried as he watched you make your way back with a drink in hand.

When you returned to the group, his expression softened instantly. He slipped back into the charming, attentive guy he’d been playing for you all night.

“Got something good?” he asked, nodding towards your drink.

You giggled, holding up your cup. “Just punch. Thought I’d start slow.”

He snorted, nodding approvingly. “Smart move. Don’t let these guys talk you into anything too crazy.”

The night went on like that, Rafe playing the perfect gentleman, always by your side, making sure you were comfortable, that you were enjoying yourself. He introduced you to more people, his arm around your shoulders, subtly guiding you through the social maze with ease. And every time you excused yourself—whether to grab another drink or use the restroom—his demeanor shifted. The smile would slip, and he’d share knowing looks with his friends, a silent acknowledgment of the game they were playing.

But you didn’t see any of that.

You saw the guy who made you feel like you were finally part of something bigger, like you belonged. And as the night went on, you found yourself relaxing more, laughing, talking, feeling the walls you’d built around yourself start to come down.

Rafe noticed, of course. That was the whole point. He’d spent weeks laying the groundwork, and tonight was just the beginning. He was getting what he wanted.

But as he watched you laugh at something Kelce said, genuinely enjoying yourself, he felt a pang of something unfamiliar. It was brief, fleeting, but it was there. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was something else. He quickly pushed it aside, reminding himself why he was doing this.

He knew better than to get too comfortable.

He knew his ex wouldn’t stay out of his business forever, and sure enough, she confronted him right before class the next day.

“Rafe, can we talk?”

He didn’t look at her right away, instead shoving his notebook into his bag as if she wasn’t even worth the effort. But he couldn’t resist; he turned to her, keeping his expression neutral. “What’s up?”

Jessica glanced around, making sure no one was listening, before stepping closer to him. Her voice was low, almost pleading. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, playing dumb. “What do you mean?”

She huffed in frustration, clearly not in the mood for games. “Don’t act like you don’t know. She’s a nice girl, I know she’s not your type.”

Rafe couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at his lips. “Jealous?

Jessica’s eyes flashed with anger, but there was something else there too—guilt.

“No. You’re just going to use her to get back at me? That’s not fair. She doesn’t deserve that.”

He leaned in closer, his smirk turning cold. “You didn’t think about fairness when you were sneaking around with Tyler, did you? Why should I care about what she deserves?”

"Rafe."

"You only care about your precious reputation, so shut the fuck up."

Jessica flinched, “I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have done what I did. But I fell in love with Tyler. I’m not sorry about that.”

“Do you even realize what you did to me?” The memory of the last time he’d trusted her flashed before his eyes—the way she’d smiled at him. The same smile she had for someone else, “You don’t get to apologize now. You don’t get to tell me what’s fair.”

Jessica’s expression softened, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “I’m not saying this for me. I’m saying it for her."

"Right, because you care so much about other people, huh?"

"You're being difficult for no reason."

Rafe clenched his jaw, every word she said feeling like a knife twisting in his gut. He wanted to lash out, to tell her that she didn’t get to play the moral high ground after everything she’d done. But instead, he just stared at her, his eyes hard and cold.

“Stay out of it, Jess” he said finally, his voice low and dangerous. “And keep your fucking mouth shut.”

She sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly as if she’d been expecting this. “Just think about it before you do something stupid."

Without another word, Jessica turned and walked away, leaving Rafe standing there, seething with anger. He watched her go, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Of course, she would act like she gave a shit about you the moment he’s attention shifted from her. She had no right to lecture him, no right to tell him what to do.

This was about revenge, about proving a point. You were just a means to an end, nothing more.

But you made it so fucking hard for him to keep his head in the game.

Every time you smiled at him, every time you thanked him for something small, it chipped away at the cold resolve he had built up inside. He told himself it was just part of the plan, that getting close to you was necessary for the outcome he wanted. But the more time he spent with you, the more he realized that he was enjoying himself.

He didn't even have to put in the effort to influence you. You began to speak up in class, even crack jokes with the other girls on the cheerleading squad. The transformation was happening right before his eyes, just like he’d planned. But instead of feeling satisfied, there was a knot of guilt forming in his stomach. You were changing, yes, but it wasn’t just on the outside. You were starting to trust him, to look at him like he was more than just some popular guy who was doing you a favor. You were starting to care, and that terrified him.

One night, after another party where you had danced a little closer, laughed a little louder, Rafe walked you back to your dorm. The campus was quiet, the stars above bright against the inky sky. You were buzzing with the energy of the night, still talking animatedly about how much fun you’d had. The sound of your laughter, the way your eyes lit up—it caught him off guard.

“Thanks for inviting me, Rafe. I never thought I’d actually enjoy these things, but you make it… I don’t know, easier, I guess.”

Rafe smiled down at you, trying to ignore the way his heart twisted at your words.

“I’m glad sweets. You deserve to have fun.”

You looked up at him, your eyes softening. “I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you properly. For everything. You didn’t have to be this nice to me.”

For a split second, he saw you. Not as a means to an end, but as someone he genuinely cared about.

His expression faltered for a moment before he quickly recovered. “It’s no big deal. Really.”

But it was a big deal, and you both knew it.

You had gone from barely existing on the social radar to being someone everyone noticed, someone everyone wanted to be around. And it was all because of him. Rafe had given you that, but he knew he was taking something from you too—your innocence, your trust.

He walked you to your door, his usual confidence wavering as you turned to face him. There was something different in your gaze tonight, something that made his breath catch in his throat.

“Rafe… I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” you began, your voice a little hesitant.

He forced himself to stay calm, even though his heart was pounding in his chest. “Yeah? What’s up?”

You looked down, fiddling with the hem of your top before meeting his eyes again. “Why did you start talking to me? I mean, really. Was it because you felt sorry for me? Or… or something else?”

Rafe’s mind raced, trying to find the right words, the ones that wouldn’t hurt you. He could lie, like he’d been doing all along, or he could tell you the truth, risk everything.

But before he could answer, you continued, your voice softer now. “Because… I’m glad you did. Whatever the reason was. I’ve never felt this… this good about myself. And it’s because of you.”

Rafe swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry.

Fuck. He’d never expected this, never thought that you would be the one to make him feel something real, something that wasn’t just part of his stupid revenge plan.

He’d thought he could control this, control you, but it was slipping through his fingers. He stepped closer to you, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You’ve always been amazing,” he said quietly, his voice hoarse. “I just… I just helped you see it.”

You grinned up at him, your eyes shining with gratitud. It was too much, too real, and Rafe could feel the walls he’d carefully constructed around his heart starting to crumble. You were looking at him like he was someone worth caring about, and for the first time, he felt like he was the one being played.

He couldn’t let you get any closer. If you did, he wouldn’t be able to follow through with his plan.

But pushing you away now, after all the effort he’d put in, would raise too many questions. So, he did the only thing he could think of—he leaned down and kissed you.

It was gentle at first, testing the waters, but when you didn’t pull away, he deepened it, his hand cradling the back of your head as if you were something fragile. Your lips were soft against his, and for a moment, Rafe let himself forget why he was doing this. He let himself enjoy the warmth of your body pressed against his, the way you sighed softly into his mouth.

But then, just as quickly as it started, he pulled back.

The look in your eyes nearly undid him. There was so much trust, so much hope, and it made him want to break something, anything, just to stop feeling the way he did.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he murmured, his voice rough, as if the kiss had taken something out of him.

You nodded, still dazed, a small smile playing on your lips. “Yeah, tomorrow.”

This was wrong.

He knew it was wrong. But in that moment, with the way you were looking at him, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He watched you go, waiting until you disappeared into your dorm before he let out a shaky breath.

What the fuck was he doing? He couldn’t afford to second-guess himself now. Not when he was so close to winning and yet, he couldn’t help but feel that he was the one who was losing.

Later that night, as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, Jessica’s words mocked him.

“I’m sorry okay? I shouldn’t have done what I did. But I fell in love with Tyler. I’m not sorry about that.”

He had scoffed at her then, dismissed her excuses as pathetic attempts to justify her shitty behavior.

But now, lying there alone, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was any different. He didn’t plan on feeling anything real for you. This was supposed to be a game, a way to hurt Jessica the way she hurt him. But somewhere along the line, things had changed.

How could he let this happen? How could he, of all people, start to care? He was supposed to be in control, supposed to be the one pulling the strings, not getting tangled in them.

And yet, the memory of your pretty face, the sound of your laugh, the warmth in your eyes—these were the things that lingered in his mind, all the damn time.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself, rolling over and burying his face in his pillow.

The anger and bitterness that had fueled him for weeks were still there, but they were being drowned out by something else—you.

Rafe’s resolve had been wavering for days, but he pushed the guilt aside as he drove to campus the next morning. He was picking you up before class, something that had become a bit of a routine. It was a small gesture, but one that made you smile every time, and Rafe had to admit, he looked forward to seeing that smile.

When he pulled up to your dorm, you were already waiting outside, your bag slung over your shoulder. You looked different from when he first met you—still shy, but with a confidence that hadn’t been there before. It was subtle, but Rafe noticed.

He noticed everything about you these days.

“Hey,” you said as you slid into the passenger seat, giving him that small smile that always made his chest tighten a little. “Thanks for picking me up.”

“Anytime,” he replied smoothly, shifting the car into gear. “Ready for another day of fun and learning?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but there was a lightness in your expression that hadn’t been there a month ago. “If by fun, you mean trying not to fall asleep in econ, then yeah, totally ready.”

He chuckled, glancing over at you as he pulled onto the road. “I’m starting to think you secretly enjoy econ. You’re just trying to maintain your cool, indifferent persona.”

You laughed, the sound genuine and free, and Rafe felt that unfamiliar pang in his chest again.

“Yeah, that’s me. The cool, indifferent econ nerd.”

“See? I knew it,” Rafe teased, but there was an edge of something else in his voice, something he couldn’t quite shake.

The drive to campus was easy, filled with light conversation and the comfortable silence that had developed between you two. When you arrived, he parked in his usual spot, but instead of getting out right away, you turned to him, your expression suddenly serious.

“Rafe, can I ask you something?”

He froze for a split second, his mind racing. Had you figured it out? Did you know about the bet? But he quickly forced a casual smile, nodding.

“Sure sweets, what’s up?”

You hesitated, chewing on your lower lip, a habit he’d noticed you had when you were nervous.

“Why did you kiss me?”

Rafe’s heart pounded in his chest. This was the moment he’d been dreading—the moment when you’d start questioning everything. He couldn’t afford to slip up now.

“Why not?” he said, his tone light, but there was a hint of sincerity that even he didn’t expect. “I like you. I like being around you.”

You looked at him, your eyes searching his, trying to find the truth in his words. Rafe held your gaze, doing his best to keep his expression open and honest. After a moment, you nodded, as if you’d decided to believe him.

“Okay,” you said. “I just... I didn’t want to assume, y’know? It’s just... new.”

“Good new, though, right?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, “Good new.”

The rest of the day passed in a blur, with classes, coffee breaks, and more of Rafe’s effortless charm. But that moment in the car stuck with him. You were starting to get closer, to trust him, and every time you did, the guilt fucked with his head a little more.

Later that day, when the two of you met up for a late lunch, he noticed the way you had begun to attract attention from others. Some guys glanced your way, clearly noticing the changes in you, and a few girls even stopped to chat with you—a far cry from the shy girl he’d first approached in the library.

As you two sat down at a table outside the campus cafe, he saw the way your eyes lit up when you spotted someone approaching. It was Leila, a girl from your cheer squad. She waved and came over, sitting down.

“Hey, you two,” she greeted, her eyes flicking between you and Rafe. “Mind if I join?”

“Sure,” you said, scooting over to make room for her. He nodded, keeping his expression neutral, but there was something about the way Leila looked at you that put him on edge.

The conversation flowed easily, with her complimenting you on something you’d done at practice the other day, and you blushing at the praise.

Rafe watched, a small smile on his face, but his mind was elsewhere. He could see how much you were changing, how you were starting to come into your own, and it was becoming harder and harder to justify what he was doing.

When Leila left after a few minutes, you turned to Rafe with a grin. “She’s nice. I didn’t think she even noticed me before.”

“She notices you now,” Rafe replied, his voice quieter than usual.

You looked at him, your smile fading slightly. “Is something wrong?”

Rafe hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. “No, nothing. Just... thinking.”

“About what?”

He leaned back in his chair. “About how you’re starting to steal everyone’s attention here. What am I gonna do when you’re the most popular one around here?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I don’t think that’s gonna happen anytime soon.”

Rafe smiled back, but the guilt was back, stronger than ever. You were starting to trust him, to believe in the friendship he was offering, and it was killing him.

As the afternoon wore on, he found himself more and more distracted by his thoughts. He needed to talk to someone about it, someone who knew the score.

Later that evening, after dropping you off at your dorm, he called Kelce. The phone rang a few times before his friend picked up, sounding slightly out of breath.

“Yo, Cameron. What’s up?”

Rafe took a deep breath, leaning against the side of his car. “I need to talk, man. About the bet.”

Kelce laughed, clearly not picking up on the seriousness in Rafe’s voice. “What, you already feeling bad for her? Didn’t think you’d go soft so fast.”

Rafe frowned, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not that. It’s just... I didn’t think it’d be like this. She’s... she’s actually really nice, Kelce. Like, genuinely nice.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line before Kelce responded, his tone more serious.

“Dude, we all knew she was nice. That’s what makes this so good. You’re flipping the script. Just remember why you’re doing it.”

Rafe let out a frustrated sigh. “I know, but... She trusts me."

And I trust her, he wanted to add, but didn't.

“Look, Rafe, you’re in too deep to back out now. If you quit, she’ll still get hurt, and you’ll look like a fucking idiot. You gotta see this through. Just... keep your eye on the prize, okay? It’s not about her, it’s about Jessica.”

Rafe nodded, even though Kelce couldn’t see him. “Yeah... yeah, you’re right. I just needed to clear my head.”

“Good,” Kelce said. “Now go get some sleep or something. We’ve got a party this weekend, and I wanna see you back on your game.”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks, man.”

By Friday, the campus was buzzing with weekend plans, and you were in a good mood, chatting excitedly about some party that night. You two were in the cafeteria, grabbing lunch, when it happened.

You were waiting in line for food, and Rafe had stepped aside to check his phone. When he glanced up, he saw a guy approaching you—a guy he recognized from the football team. A sleazy bastard.

The guy leaned in, flashing you a charming smirk, clearly trying to flirt. He wanted to pummel his face to the wall. Rafe watched from a distance as the guy made you laugh, his hand casually resting on the counter next to yours. Too fucking close.

The sight made something twist in his chest, something dark and possessive that he hadn’t expected. He'd never felt like this before. His grip tightened around his phone as he watched, his jaw clenching.

You seemed flattered but a little uncomfortable, your smile not quite reaching your eyes. Rafe could tell you weren’t used to this kind of attention, and it made him feel something primal, something that burned hotter than the guilt. He wanted to go over there, to tell that guy to back the fuck off, but he didn’t. Instead, he stood there, seething, trying to keep his cool.

Scaring you away was the last thing he wanted to do.

When the guy finally walked away, you looked relieved, but Rafe was already moving. He crossed the cafeteria in quick strides, his eyes locked on you, his heart pounding. You spotted him coming and smiled, but it fell when you saw the look on his face.

“Rafe, what’s—”

He didn’t let you finish. Before you could say another word, he was right in front of you, his hand cupping your face as he pulled you toward him.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t like the kiss outsider your dorm. This was different. It was fierce, almost desperate as if he needed to prove something to himself, to you, and to everyone watching. His lips moved against yours with intensity, his other hand gripping your waist, pulling you closer. He didn’t care who was around, who was watching.

All he cared about was you, right there, in his arms.

You froze for a second, caught off guard by the suddenness of it, but then you melted into him, your hands clutching at his shirt as you kissed him back with equal fervor. It was like all the tension, all the confusion, everything that had been building between you two, finally snapped.

Rafe deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours, claiming you in a way that left no room for doubt. His fingers tangled in your hair, and you let out a soft moan that only made him kiss you harder, his body pressing against yours like he couldn’t get enough.

People around you were definitely watching now, whispering, some even cheering, but Rafe didn’t care. He didn’t pull away until he was breathless, and even then, he stayed close, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing heavy. When he finally opened his eyes, he saw the way you were looking at him—dazed, flushed, your lips slightly swollen from the intensity of the kiss.

“What... what was that?” you asked, your voice shaky, your eyes searching his for answers.

Rafe knew he should say something, explain himself, but all he could think about was how much he wanted to kiss you again. Instead, he just shook his head slightly, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“Just couldn’t help myself,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

You blinked up at him, still trying to process what had just happened, but there was no mistaking the way your body was responding to him.

He finally stepped back, but kept his hand on your waist, grounding you as he looked around. Sure enough, the guy from earlier was watching.

Rafe caught his eye, giving him a look that said everything without words. She’s mine.

When he looked back at you, he saw the confusion in your eyes and something else—something that looked a lot like longing.

He knew he’d just crossed a line, again, but in that moment, he didn’t care. All he cared about was the way you felt in his arms, the way you looked at him like he was the only guy in the world.

“C’mon,” Rafe said, his voice softer now. “We’ve got class.”

You nodded, still a little dazed, and let him guide you out of the cafeteria, his hand never leaving yours. He was in deeper than ever, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Not when you looked at him like that, not when his heart was pounding like this.

As you approached the building where your next class was, he stopped, turning to face you. He touched your cheek again, his thumb brushing against your skin, and you leaned into his touch.

“Rafe—”

“You’re my girl,” he whispered, his forehead pressing against yours again. “Okay?”

You nodded, your breath hitching as you looked up at him, your eyes wide and trusting. Rafe knew he was on the edge of something he couldn’t control, but as he leaned in for one more kiss, slow and tender this time, he realized he didn’t care.

“Rafe…” you began again, speaking against his lips. There was so much you wanted to say, so much you needed to understand about what you were, what you two were becoming. His thumb traced the curve of your jawline.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he whispered, his voice low, almost reverent. “I just… I need you to know that you mean something to me. This, us—"

“Okay.”

He was already in too deep.

And just like that, he got what he wanted.

The next day, everything seemed to fall into place as if the universe has finally aligned for you. He asked you out, and just like that, you were together.

The next two months were a dream—utter bliss. You weren’t just happy; you were radiant. You’d become the most popular girl in school, and with him by your side, it felt like you were living in some sort of fairy tale.

Every smile he gave you, every touch, every whispered confession of how perfect you were sent you soaring higher. He couldn’t get enough of you—your sweetness, your kindness, your genuine heart. It was as if he was falling more and more in love with you every single day. And you, you had never felt this alive.

But deep down, in a place he didn’t dare acknowledge, there was a shadow, a sliver of guilt that he pushed aside every time he looked into your trusting eyes.

He never officially ended the bet with Kelce and Topper. It was just a stupid game, something that seemed so insignificant compared to what he feels for you now. He told himself that he had forgotten about it, that it didn’t matter anymore.

After all, what you two had is real, right? And you, completely oblivious to the sinister origins of your relationship, continued to believe in the fairy tale.

Until it ended.

⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ

It’s after cheerleading practice, and you’re alone in the locker room, stuffing your things into your bag. The air is thick with the scent of sweat and body spray, the usual post-practice atmosphere, but there’s something different today—a tension you can’t quite place.

As you’re zipping up your bag, you hear voices nearby, just around the corner. Leila and Jessica, their conversation low but unmistakable. You wouldn’t normally eavesdrop, but something about the tone of their voices makes you pause, your heart suddenly beating a little faster.

"You were right," Leila says, her voice edged with a cruel satisfaction. "About your gut feeling with Rafe and his new girl."

Oh.

Jessica sounds tired, almost defeated. "What do you mean?"

Leila sighs, a dark amusement in her tone. "Kelce spilled everything when we hooked up last week. He was too high to keep his mouth shut. Rafe’s been playing her this whole time, using her to mess with you. It was all a bet."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, you can’t move, can’t think. The room spins around you, the ground shifting beneath your feet.

No. No, this can’t be real.

Leila’s voice continues, completely unaware of the devastation she’s causing. "It's so fucked up. She has no idea. She’s out there thinking he’s her Prince Charming, and all along it was just some sick game."

Jessica doesn’t say anything, but you can’t bear to hear more. You feel like you’re suffocating, your chest tightening as panic floods your system.

Before you know it, you’re running—out of the locker room, down the hall, anywhere to get away from those words, those horrible, soul-crushing words. Tears blur your vision as you stumble outside, gasping for air, for some kind of escape from the nightmare that’s suddenly become your reality.

The ache in your chest doesn’t fade as you bolt from the locker room, tears hot on your cheeks. You don’t know where you’re going, but you know you can’t stop moving. The hallways blur past you as you wipe at your eyes, struggling to catch your breath. Rage and heartbreak twist inside you like a knife, and before you know it, you find yourself standing outside the gym, where the sounds of basketball practice echo through the double doors.

You push through the doors without thinking, your heart pounding in your ears. The gym is full of movement—squeaking sneakers, the thud of the ball against the court, and the grunts of effort as the players practice their drills. But all of it fades into the background as soon as your eyes lock onto Rafe.

He’s in the middle of a play, dribbling the ball down the court with that intense focus you’ve always admired. For a moment, you hesitate, that familiar warmth of seeing him almost enough to make you stop. But then the memory of Leila’s words slams into you like a wave, and the anger surges back, drowning out everything else.

You storm across the gym, your footsteps heavy on the polished floor. Some of the players notice you, their eyes widening in surprise, but you don’t care. You’re beyond caring. The only thing that matters is confronting him, making him face what he’s done.

"Cameron!" you shout, your voice sharp, cutting through the noise of the practice.

He turns at the sound of your voice, surprise flashing across his face. The ball slips from his hands, bouncing away as the other players stop, confusion rippling through the group. You always call him by his name.

The coach starts to say something, but you barely hear him. All you can see is Rafe, standing there, looking at you with those eyes that you once thought held nothing but affection for you.

Now, all you see is a liar.

“What’s wrong baby?” He jogs over to you, his brow furrowing.

You don’t answer immediately, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you try to hold yourself together.

But it’s impossible.

“Was I a bet?”

His expression changes from confusion to something closer to horror, his mouth opening as if to say something, but nothing comes out. The sound of your voice, trembling with disbelief and pain, seems to have stunned him into silence.

For a moment, you just stare at each other. You want him to deny it, to laugh and tell you it’s all some terrible misunderstanding. But deep down, you already know the truth. You saw it in his eyes the second he turned to face you, that flicker of guilt, that flash of something wildly desperate.

He reaches for you, his voice breaking. "Baby, wait, let me explain—”

“Was I a fucking bet?” you repeat, your voice louder this time, edged with a desperate, frantic energy that you can’t control. You take a step back as he tries to get closer, every muscle in your body screaming to get away from him, to escape the unbearable weight of the truth.

His eyes are pleading, searching yours for something, anything that might make this easier, but there’s nothing. No words, no excuses that can make this hurt any less.

“It started as a bet,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper, but to you, it’s as loud as a gunshot. “But it’s not like that, I swear. I—”

“What the hell is wrong with you?!”

He flinches at your words, pain flashing across his face, but you can’t stop. It’s like all the anger, all the heartbreak, all the humiliation you’ve been choking down is pouring out of you in a torrent, and you don’t have the strength to hold it back. You can see the panic rising in him, the desperation as he realizes just how badly he’s messed up. He takes another step toward you, his hand reaching out, but you jerk away,

“We’re done.”

“Please, just listen,” he pleads, his voice cracking.

“No.”

And with that, you leave.

Rafe’s voice echoes behind you as you walk away, but you refuse to look back. The gym doors swing shut, muffling the sounds of the practice resuming, and you’re left in the eerily quiet hallway, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

The locker room is cold and empty when you push open the door. The scent of body spray and sweat lingers in the air. You head straight to your locker again, hands trembling as you fumble with the lock, desperate to escape. But before you can get it open, the door swings wide behind you, and you know, without turning around, that he followed you.

“Go away,” you say, your voice barely holding steady.

“I can’t,” he says, his voice strained with desperation. “Not like this.”

You spin around, your eyes blazing with anger. “You don’t get to decide that. You used me! And for what? Some sick joke with your friends?”

He takes a step closer, his hands raised as if to placate you, but you back away, your heart pounding. “I know I messed up,” he says, his voice thick with regret. “I know I should’ve told you the truth, but I—”

“But you didn’t,” you cut him off, your voice rising. “You let me believe that you cared about me, that everything was real, and all the while it was just a game to you. You and your friends laughed in my face the entire time, didn’t you?”

“It wasn’t a game,” he insists, his voice cracking. “It wasn't supposed to be like this, okay? This wasn't the plan. I changed. Being with you... it was the only thing that felt real to me.”

You shake your head, tears welling up in your eyes. “I don’t believe you.”

Rafe looks at you, his expression torn between guilt and desperation.

“It wasn’t a joke. It started as a stupid bet, but I never expected to actually—” He broke off, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I care about you. That’s real.”

For a moment, you see the boy who had made you feel special, who had made you believe in something more. But it's not enough.

“I don’t even know who you are."

You want to believe him, to take solace in the idea that some part of what you had was real, but you can't. You shake your head again, a sob choking you as you turn away from him, your back pressing against the cold metal of the locker.

“It isn’t supposed to hurt like this,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him. “It’s not supposed to feel like a knife in your chest.”

Rafe takes another step closer, “Please, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice breaking. “Just give me a chance to make this right.”

"You don’t get to have a chance. You don’t get to pretend this is some kind of love story. You lied to me. You used me.”

You look at him then, really look at him, and all you see is the boy who broke your heart. The boy who turned your world upside down with a single lie. You know that if you stay, if you let him talk, you might be tempted to forgive him. But you can’t.

Not this time.

With a deep breath, you straighten up, wiping away the tears that have stained your cheeks. “I’m done.”

“Don’t say that,” he pleads, his voice thick with desperation.

But you’ve made up your mind.

“I mean it. We’re done. I need you to stay away from me.”

The words hit him like a physical blow, and for a moment, he just stands there, staring at you as if he can’t believe what you’re saying.

But then he sees the resolve in your eyes, the finality in your tone, and he knows there’s no coming back from this.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice hoarse. “I’m so sorry.”

Without another word, you turn away from him, pushing past the locker room door and walking away. You hesitate for a split second. A small voice inside you screams to turn back, to give him one more chance, but then you imagine the laughter, the cruel satisfaction.

The image of Rafe with his friends, laughing at your expense, sears itself into your mind.

The door slams shut behind him, and he leans against it, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. He doesn’t feel victorious. Instead, there’s a hollowness, a quiet whisper in the back of his mind that asks, “What now?” He clenches his fists, trying to silence it, but the emptiness remains.

This time, he doesn’t follow you.

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ihopeiexplode · 6 months ago

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📱 “Again and Again.” [←Previous | Next→]

—

"you can't be serious right?"

"I am."

"..."

—

You would stand there, eyes widening as he just finished his little confession..then suddenly he'd speak up

"is it really that hard to believe I have feelings for you?"

"coming from you Sukuna? Yes, yes it is hard to believe, if you think you can win my forgiveness with some petty confession that I doubt is real your wrong."

"how long did you practice saying that for?"

"y/n I'm dead serious, I like you, I really do.."

You refuse to believe he's telling the truth. A visible scowl would appear on your face before you clenched your fist as you stared at him as if you were on the verge of tears.

"You're lying, aren't you? Even if your confession is genuine do you really think I'd accept it that easily? You've been openly hating me for years for no absolute reason, do you think it's funny to play with my feelings? I've been hurt enough I don't need you to add more to that problem. If you really did like me then you should've spoken up sooner instead of now."

"I was about to. Remember when your ex confessed his feelings for you during high school? How did he get you those flowers and letters?"

"Just what are you implying Sukuna."

"guess what y/n that was all me. I got you those flowers and letters not him. It was all Me yet you were dating someone who never loved you like I did. yet? you chose him over me. I would've treated you better than him if you just used your Brain back then."

"if what you are saying is true..then how come you haven't spoken up? I would've believed you if you just told me that instead of ignoring me and acting as if you hated me. Did doing all that get you anywhere Sukuna?"

"No..."

"Exactly. It got you nowhere. You could've just told me then this whole thing could've been avoided but no. You just had to add more fuel to the fire, didn't you? You just had to make the situation worse."

"tell me Sukuna did you have fun toying with my emotions? Was it worth it? This doesn't mean I believe in your petty confession."

With that you'd immediately turn to leave, as you did you just left him standing there leaving him and his emotions alone together for him to figure it out himself.

He shouldn't have said that. Why were you being so difficult?

He really was a fool for believing he'd actually have a chance with you, but he knows his chances are low despite that he can't help but keep chasing after you no matter how hard he tries to deny the fact he hates you.

But you on the other hand..you wanted to believe what he said was genuine, but deep down you know. You know everything he says..it's still the same Sukuna deep down.—

—

[⛩️] @: Likes & Reblogs R appreciated! ^^

A/N: I didn't know what to do for this part because erm..the thing is....I make all the parts on the spot...🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

(I promise I'll make the next part longer 😞😞🙏‼️)

Taglist: @catobsessedlady @hellomeow12 @0-candlecove-0 @shivzypuff @swirlingcurses @1-800-choke-that-ho @attackonnat @chilichopsticks @getoxmahito @memenojutsu @uhnanix @ichorstainedskin @needtoloveoutloud @love-me-satoru @s-j320 @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @goj0sunglasses @svtvrnal @haitanibros0007 @punkhazardlaw @mslydiaa @jayathelostdragon @caileysdead @rixyaaaa @minzxec @rzcnlb

#jjk smau #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna #jjk ryomen sukuna #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x you

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jade-jini · 1 year ago

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“I’m the Drama”

Kim Minjeong x Reader

Prompt: Jeongie showering after having nasty sex with her ex who she swore she would never ever be back to but she can’t help it ‘cause the pussy too good. “Even when you broke me, you’re too much of a good fuck to let it go.”

Genre: Smut, Angst

TW: toxic exes, mentions of cheating(but who knows). emotional issues. Mostly hate sex.

If Minjeong had to use one word to describe pleasure, it would be easy: you.

“Fuck.. y/n~” Minjeong moaned, grabbing your hair tightly and keeping you closer to her cunt (not like you would try to get away anyways) “I’m gonna fucking come.. Hmm fuck don’t stop…~” she begged in that cute high pitched tone she had when she was on the verge of her orgasm. You knew it very well, you’ve heard it a million times. You gave the girl what she wanted, and moved your tongue so fast until she was making a delicious mess in your mouth “oh my fuckin godddd…” she loudly cried while reaching her climax for who knows what time in that night already.

Once she calmed down, she looked at you, and you looked at her too, quietly making such intense eye contact, neither of you willing to let go. To let go of several things…

“Is this the part where you send me home ‘cause you promised to never let me sleep in your bed again?” You asked her, making her clicked her tongue and roll her eyes, grabbing you by the shoulders and pushing you to the bed now. She had you on your back while getting ready between your legs yet again.

“Shut the fuck up and moan for me, y/n.” she ordered and you were ready to obey, not without teasing her first tho.

“You know, that’s confusing. Do you want me to moan or do you want me to shut up baby?” And making you gasp, she grabbed you by the neck as soon as the pet name left your mouth, ‘cause hearing you calling her anything like that after your breakup felt like a dagger of memories to her heart.

“You know what? yes. I prefer if you just shut the fuck up.” She said, grabbing her own panties and shoving them into your mouth. You wanted to complain but fuck it, you were in no position (plus you loved having her panties in your mouth don’t Fuckin act funny). You felt the girl’s fingers massaging your clit, while her face showed a frown as she focused her eyes on your pussy. Seeing her so concentrated was something you always found so hot.

However, you knew she was doing her best not to look into your eyes, and that saddened you. Unlike before when she’d love looking at them and express her love through her endearing stare and soft smiles, now she wanted to avoid being too aware that it was you, her ex, the one that hurt her, who she was fucking. Minjeong knew nobody would turn her on like you, but if she thought too much about anything, it would just freak her out. Too much pain she tried not to process.

If Minjeong had to use one word to describe pain, it would also be easy: you.

“You cheated!” she accused once again, dressed in an oversized shirt.

“oh my goshhh…” you left out in a stressed sigh while finishing putting your shirt back on “not this again. I did NOT cheat, we were not together anymore. Just get. Over it.” you remarked every word, you were tired of this. You’re not even sure what exactly triggered this argument again this time, but it never took too much for Minjeong to get so worked up when you were there. The plan was to simply go home after hooking up, trying not to argue but of course, you guys failed again. Like always.

“You didn’t even wait a fucking week! I fucking caught you while picking up my stuff you horny piece of lying shit.” she said while pushing your shoulders.

“But it was not cheating! Jesus, minjeong, YOU broke up with me. You broke up with me because you said I turned distant and instead of talking to me, YOU alone decided to end our relationship. Why are you acting like I’m the villain?!”

“Because you are! And what? Am I supposed to believe you didn’t know her from before? That you weren’t fucking before we broke up?!” you really hated her tone and the assumptions she kept making over and over again.

“Think whatever you want, Minjeong.”

“yeah of course I’m gonna think whatever I want, because you know it’s true. Fucking cheater.”

“Don’t Fucking talk to me in that tone, Minjeong.” you warned her, clenching your jaw.

“Or what,y/n? What the fuck are you gonna do?” she challenged you, her face too close to yours. You were looking at each other like you wanted to kill each other, and maybe you wanted, or maybe…

“Oh fuck… oh my Fuckin god!” Minjeong screamed under you, her nails deep on your back and the strap deep inside her as she clenched around it so tight, coming with you while the other end of the toy made you reach your own climax, biting on the girl’s shoulder. “Fuck! That hurt you fucking idiot, let go!” She complained while pushing you to the side, now both of you lying side to side on the bed, looking at the ceiling trying your best to ignore the post nut clarity. there goes another burning, steamy round of sex. Bodies so sweaty and hot you could feel the hair stuck to your forehead and nape. “I’m gonna take a shower, you better not be here once I’m out.” She said, in a bitter tone that was still somehow calmed. You heard her, but didn’t show any reaction as your eyes were still stuck to the ceiling. You sighed, hearing her enter the shower, knowing you had to get up soon to get your clothes before she decided to do it herself and pushed you out of her door half naked.

——

On a different occasion, after you two finished, you didn’t wait for her to tell you to go. You started getting dressed up a little faster than usual. Normally, you waited for her to just kick you out, ‘cause deep down you always had a little hope she’d let you stay with her, to sleep in each other’s arms like before, like when you were each other’s home and safe place. The day after tho, you were busy because of work and you needed to advance some of it so you did have to go home that night. However, Minjeong didn’t buy it.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” she asked very curious and clearly upset about your behavior, which surprised you because she was always the one in a hurry to get you out of her apartment. You scoffed.

“What? Now you want me to stay?” you asked in a sarcastic tone, which made her role her eyes “I have work tomorrow morning and stuff to finish tonight, I don’t have time to wait around until you’re kicking me out and throwing my clothes at me in the middle of the hallway.”

“Bullshit.” she said, clearly getting worked up once again because of whatever she was imagining. “what is it? That bitch texted you to get home soon?”

“What are you talking about?” You asked really tired, you really didn’t wanna deal with this tonight.

“You know who I’m talking about, y/n. Your new bitch, the one you cheated on me with.” she answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Are you fucking serious? How many times do I have to tell you that it was a ONE time thing? Why cant you get that through your fucking head?!”

“Don’t you fucking lie to me!” she yelled, tears threatening to fall already.

“I am NOT lying, fuck!” you yelled back, agitated about this whole situation, this whole routine and cycle.

“God why do we always end up fighting?!” she screamed louder in exasperation. She just doesn’t understand how someone who used to make her feel so much love now upset her so easily.

“I don’t know! You tell me!” you told her, moving your hands as you speak to emphasize your desperation for answers “You’re always the first one to raise your fucking voice. What, am I supposed to just accept it and let you talk to me like that like—”

“Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!” she yelled with a trembling voice and tears already falling down her face, grabbing your shirt and hardly pushing you against the wall, making you go quiet and a little scared. Both of you breathing heavy, her so close to you that you could feel her breathe on your lips. She rested her forehead against yours without making eye contact, just trying her best to calm herself. “I Fuckin hate you, y/n.”

“No you don’t…” you whispered, this time waiting for her to make the next move. And so she did, kissing you deeply. And there you went for yet another round. This time, it made you so exhausted that you fell asleep for a little while, and Minjeong decided to take the chance to shower.

She hated herself. For enjoying the taste of your lips, the touch of your hands, the feeling of your skin. The taste of your body and how you knew hers so well. She hated you (no) but she hated herself more for not being able to escape you, to resist you. You broke her fucking heart and you didn’t even seem to care, and still here she was, calling you when she needed you, and you would always come like you always did. Or when you suddenly text her or knock on her door, she couldn’t deny you. Her body burned for your touch.

It burned for it and afterwards it would still burn, but for different reasons. Minjeong always needed to shower after having sex with her ex. She needed that private time, to desperately try and erase you from her body like she wasn’t gonna call you again soon. Minjeong would cry under the water, knowing she could never erase the print you’ve left in her heart, her soul. Knowing she would always yearn for you to make her body yours. She was yours, and as much as she hated the pain you caused her, this is something she had yet to accept. That you were each other’s. That she couldn’t just cut that thread. Her body didn’t listen to her, her mind was fragmented and so was her heart. Pieces of them everywhere inside of her, most of them not able to process all of this.

So she’d cry under the shower, out of pain, out of anger, out of love. Out of so many things. Kim Minjeong was just emotionally exhausted, and you? You were emotionally numb. And you were trying to be ok with it for now, ‘cause you knew the moment everything hit you again, it was gonna be chaos inside of you. You were not gonna be able to process your girl not being your girl anymore. The love of your life turned into some type of enemy that didn’t want you but couldn’t let you go either. So you trick your brain, deep down hoping things will get better and you’ll find some answers. For now? You’d make Minjeong yours again and again the only way she allowed you to.

Even if it was killing you both.

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