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randomfoggytiger · 2 days ago

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Collector's Edition: cecilysass

To cecilysass: an indisputable talent in the X-Files fic sphere. "Orpheus, not Eurydice" was the first to steal my heart; and your blend of winsome, affectionate, particular humor and dark, prolonged, mature pain kept it. Your work captures such specific moments-- such specific feelings-- that its impact is as sharp and distinct as a rubber stamp on new paper.

@cecilysass's (Ao3, Gossamer)

Still Feeling My Father Ascend (Ao3)

“It’s easy to make mistakes,” his father continues. “Don’t get attached too soon. You’re a… well, you’re kind of an idealistic kid. Soft. Don’t marry the first girl you fall in love with.”

By this point in his life, Mulder has already been in love. He might have gone on to marry her, had she been willing. Had she not broken his heart. His father knows nothing of this, of course. Mulder continues to pack without responding.

“You’re old enough to understand that I made some mistakes in my own life,” his father says. “A man makes a bad choice, and he’s stuck. He’s not … satisfied. For years. I don’t want the same for you.”

A deep well of anger pits in Mulder’s stomach, thinking of his silent and broken mother, but still he doesn't speak.

“I guess what I’m trying to say, Fox, is that there’s no point in trying to be a good man,” his father continues. “That’s a waste of your efforts. There’s no such thing as a good man. The more you try to be good, you only get trapped, compromised. The best thing to do is try … to avoid entanglements.”

Post Beyond the Sea Scully is stranded at Mulder's apartment during a snowstorm. Woe upon woe piles up until they both share their own "other fathers" struggles. That, and Mulder might be in love.

How to Eat Pleasant Holiday Meals With Co-Workers - Chapter 1 (Ao3)

“It’s really best to get real cranberries from the Cape and make your own from scratch,” Mulder says, in a pained tone. “You add some grated orange, some cinnamon, some cloves. Next year, I’ll show you how it’s properly done.”

“Oh, will you?” she says, raising an eyebrow.

“Probably not,” he corrects quickly. He forgot for a moment that she will probably be on to bigger and better things in the Bureau by then. “Next year, you’ll be back in the arms of the Scully family, counting blessings.”

Season 1 Mulder changes his Thanksgiving plans-- he had none-- to spend the day with Scully-- who now has none after her and Ethan Minette's breakup. Things are... nice, if complicated.

How to Eat Pleasant Holiday Meals With Co-Workers - Chapter 2 (Ao3)

Mulder has drawn a little lackluster pencil drawing of a turkey on a folded piece of paper, which he places at the center of the table. “See? A centerpiece,” he says. “Makes it more festive.”

“I had no idea you were an artist, Mulder,” she says, with a deadpan version of the enthusiasm one gives to a small child.

“Inspiration hits and I have to go where it leads, Scully.”

They grimly peel back the plastic on their trays. “I feel like I owe last year’s cranberry sauce an apology,” Mulder says sadly. “Because whatever this is, it doesn’t even deserve the name ‘cranberry.’”

Post Firewalker Scully spends another Thanksgiving with her partner-- under different, isolated circumstances, of course.

How to Eat Pleasant Holiday Meals With Co-Workers - Chapter 3 (Ao3)

“Scully?” Mulder, ahead of her, stops to peer back. He is wearing his black leather jacket, the bowl of cranberries in his hands. He frowns in consternation. “What’s wrong?”

She spins. Runs full throttle for the bathroom, the sour taste already coming up in the back of her throat. She collapses over her toilet and promptly pukes her guts out.

It's Thanksgiving... or it would have been, if Scully hadn't gotten the flu-- a flu which reminds both of the lingering, unspoken conversation they need to have.

How to Eat Pleasant Holiday Meals With Co-Workers - Chapter 4 (Ao3)

“Mulder.” His voice sounds broken, like an old man’s.

It’s Lionel speaking. Lionel of Lionel and Reyna, who live in the farm house adjacent to their property. Lionel and Reyna, their nearest neighbors. Lionel and Reyna, his nearest neighbors.

Lionel seems to be asking him to dinner tomorrow. Turkey, stuffing, cranberries, pumpkin pie.

Post breakup Mulder reflects: is there dignity in sadness?

Oblivious (Ao3)

“Can I ask you a personal question, Scully?”

“About what?” Her sideways look was suspicious.

“I have a theory about you,” Mulder ventured. “Call it a profiler’s hunch.”

“What comes out of your mouth next could not possibly be complimentary.”

Post War of the Coprophages Mulder tries to convince his partner that not only was Bambi interested in her, but that many others have been inspired with mouth-frothing intentions.

Orpheus, Not Eurydice

So they leave the store with a container of oats and some bratwurst in buns, as well as a bag of potato chips and two root beers. Scully comments that it’s as though they purchased dinner for a pair of hungry 10-year olds, and Mulder just nods vigorously and bites into his bratwurst, obviously relieved that adult Scully is nowhere to be seen tonight.

There are carved stairs set in the side of the short sandstone bluff that leads to the river. There is a narrow park on the bank, almost entirely empty of people. There is a weathered gray picnic table, the color of bone, where they settle in to eat their juvenile dinner.

The little town hews to the curve of the slow-moving river, which now sits before them, dark green, flat and wide. They are quiet as they eat, even Mulder. All around them the world is verdant, still. The sun has started to sink below the tree line on the opposite riverbed, conferring upon the sky a marigold glow.

Season 5 Mulder and Scully take a moment to sit, feed the ducks, and listen to the local church choir-- to simply absorb.

Unobserved

It really looks like she has been inside the building, which Mulder ... just can’t make sense out of.

Because she wasn’t back at Gibson’s room this afternoon -- or the psych facility at all. He would have seen her. He was there.

With an unpleasant jolt, he remembers that in fact she had called him, just about that time. She … asked him to go to the office. She said she was on her way already, that she preferred to talk to him there. There she had shown him the proof they needed, what they needed to bring to Skinner the next day.

Mulder lets his hands run slowly down the sides of his face, something falling precipitously in the pit of his stomach.

It is unavoidable: Scully had not told the truth. And Scully always told him the truth. Which raises the unsettling question: what reason would she have to lie to him today? He doesn’t like any of the answers that come to mind.

Post The End Mulder is stunned to find security footage of his partner despondent and nearly in tears.

The Kaleidoscope (Ao3)

Scully turns to Ryan. “We should probably be going, right?”

“Our reservation’s not until seven,” Ryan points out. “I was thinking we could go get a drink at a bar around here. Maybe Fox could come with us?”

Mulder can’t understand this invitation at all; he has been pretty rude, or at least awkward. But Ryan is all fluid friendliness, effortless affability, and Mulder recognizes the type: the socially generous popular kid. After all, he has nothing to lose by extending a welcome to Mulder. He perceives zero threat. He already has everything, doesn’t he? A whole evening ahead with Scully. A whole night. Morning.

Season 6 Mulder sits glumly at his desk, trying to figure out where he fits in the complex and continually confounding life of one Dana Scully. One wrong move and he might end up in the wrong ending.

The Boy on the Beach (Ao3)

“She’s not in here, Mom!” shouted Melissa. “That’s weird … I thought she was. She must have gone outside.”

Scully swallowed, breathing fast, feeling hot tears pooling in her eyes. Whatever was happening, that certainly seemed like her big sister outside that door. Very young. Very alive.

There was the sound of a child’s aggrieved sigh. And then clomping, heavy footsteps leaving the room. Scully could hear Melissa complaining as she went back down the stairs. “She can’t sneak off and not help with the potatoes at all,” Melissa called. “That was supposed to be Dana’s job. And what about the boys, Mom? Bill hasn’t done one single thing to help! Do I have to do everything?”

Her voice grew more distant—and was answered, somewhere, faintly, by her mother’s voice, high and young.

Inside the dim closet, Scully didn’t move for a moment, trying to process.

Post Amor Fati-- A sweeping, intense fic that unspools rapidly from present-day miscommunication to lost-in-time, but-perhaps-just-in-time epic. Scully, lost in the 70s; Mulder trying to trace and intercept her progress through would-be impossible polaroids; and a little Mulder and Samantha, clinging to an FBI savior as their only hope.

We’re Not Here To Get Involved in Personal Problems

In fact, Scully has seen many episodes of Cops, a life achievement of which she is not particularly proud. Her brother Bill is the real connoisseur. He has been known to sing along with the theme song and howl in laughter when suspects scream at one another. Bill loves for his sister to watch with him, since he assumes she especially can appreciate law enforcement as entertainment, but Scully herself never really gets it. She questions the officers’ heavy-handed tactics. She is uneasy that the show has a mean sense of humor about the poor and addicted. She wonders why they never, ever show anyone doing any paperwork. But she hasn’t always found it easy to get along with her brother, and she does love his raucous laugh, so she tolerates this sibling bonding activity.

She can’t imagine how it ever would have involved Mulder, though.

“You and I watched it together in the hospital,” Mulder reminds her, shoving both hands in his pockets as they walk. He kicks at something on the ground. “When you were sick -- the chemo. It’s possible that you were a little out of it.”

“Ah,” Scully nods. Her time in the hospital is a blur of surreal, half-remembered daytime TV.

Post X-Cops Mulder and Scully take a fruitful walk around the neighborhood (season of secret sex who?)

Negotiation (Ao3)

“I just don’t want an arrangement,” he repeats meaningfully. “I don’t want a negotiation.”

“I get it,” she says shortly, jerking her hand out from under his.

“No,” he says. “No, you don’t.” He takes a deep breath. “It’s not that I don’t want … what you suggest. I’ve thought about it. A lot. Maybe too much.”

Scully’s mouth twitches at the corners as she apparently absorbs this. “Okay,” she responds. A pause. “Then why not?”

Mulder rubs his temples aggressively.

“I don’t think I could do it without … all of it. I mean, that’s not strictly true. I could do it. I’m only human. But I think it would end … really badly.”

Mulder and Scully, stakeouts and a little miscommunication-- what's not to love?

Gingersnap (Ao3)

“I could help you,” he says.

At that she raises her eyes. There is a look of unmistakable hope there. It surprises him, even dazes him a little. He’d expected her to reject his suggestion out of hand.

“Is that something you’re capable of doing?” she says tentatively. “Baking cookies?”

“No,” he admits. “At least there’s no precedent for it.”

“Sounds useful.” Her eyes are still cautiously on him.

Scully's unsuccessful baking attempts are further thwarted by Mulder's eager, hands-on attitude.

The Gentle Art of Dream Interpretation (Gossamer)

In Mulder's dream, he was a French Jew from Alsace, and he wore a shabby brown coat before a panel of great men.

Angry, standing before the Great Sanhedrin in Paris, he was trying not to shout, but could feel the steady rise of his pitch as he lodged his formal complaint to the Jewish leaders:

"You bend and stretch the halakha as best fits your pocketbook," he was telling them. His hands were shaking. He was speaking French.

Mulder has a complicated dream, which leads to more straightforward revelations in a motel pool in the late-early hours of the morning.

False Front (Ao3)

“Aren’t you the same person who once told me ‘the truth is out there, but so are lies?’” Mulder pushes. “Where’s that Dana Scully?”

She walks to the window and stands in front of it, still hugging herself and looking out into the afternoon light. From Mulder’s vantage point she looks only like a silhouette, an outline of herself.

“I get it,” she says after a heavy beat. “I see what you’re saying.”

Now there’s a melancholy timbre in her voice, a sound of defeat. He hears it rarely, for all of their struggles, and he doesn’t like it.

An astonishingly "lifelike", vivid look at Mulder, Scully, and TLG's conflicted feelings after En Ami's road trip.

Pause (Ao3)

“Your mom is already here. I called her this morning—I thought it better be me that broke the news. It’s kind of a shock. She’s eager to see you. Are you ready to talk to her?”

Scully nods, her forehead creased. She crosses her arms over her chest defensively.

He regards her. “You’re nervous.”

“Of course,” Scully replies pointedly, her voice lowered. “I want her to believe it’s me. It will hurt if she doesn’t.”

Her eyes land on his face in time to see the shadow move over his features, and she regrets saying it. She doesn’t understand the full story yet, why he is so convinced she is dead. But she can hear the raw suffering in his voice as he talks to her mom. Whatever he has been through, maybe she should tread more carefully.

AU-- Pre-Requiem Scully wakes in an abandoned car with no memory of how she got there... and no memory, she learns, of the years that have passed since her and Mulder's almost kiss, Millennium's successful followup, and the blissful months that followed.

Ice Water - Chapter 3

“Gamma," he says, his voice a tiny whisper. He is feeling shy.

“Look,” Maggie says cheerfully to him, as they walk into Dana’s kitchen. “It’s your Aunt Dana, Matty. You’ll see she looks a little bit like your daddy. At least I always thought so.”

Dana has her back to them, pouring water in the coffeemaker, dressed in a sweatshirt and jeans. Strange she hasn’t made coffee already, thinks Maggie. Strange she isn’t dressed for work.

When she turns around, Maggie has to stop herself from gasping audibly.

Post Without Maggie brings over little Matthew... and notices something is most definitely not right with her daughter.

Opposition And Synthesis

It had been a particularly trying day.

And all because that morning, she had woken up obsessed with the philosophy of Hegel.

Hegel's dialectic. An old concept from college, from her philosophy and German classes. Every important idea in history is a thesis, and is naturally paired with its antithesis. Eventually they subsume one another, combine into something new. That is the synthesis.

Two wrongs, in essence, making a right.

Post This Is Not Happening Scully is continually struck by the holes Mulder left in her life.

All the Dead Mulders (Ao3)

Or maybe he just wants to touch his mom’s gravestone. And Samantha’s. A really selfish whim for him to indulge on week two of being newly undead, not to mention a risky one. He doesn’t even have a valid driver’s license anymore. An overzealous North Carolina traffic cop could really upset the apple cart.

But all that completely, cosmically just doesn’t matter. Mulder knows emotional numbness. He has had experience with several gradients of it before, dating back to early adolescence. But this? This takes the cake. This lack of feeling is a whole new level.

He sees all of the very good reasons not to steal Scully’s car and drive to North Carolina that morning—he understands them perfectly and could articulate them if someone asked—but they’re so far away from him that he can’t touch them, much less feel them.

He’s looking at them from miles above, like he never came back from orbit at all.

Post Three Words Mulder steals Scully's car and drives out to face his experiences head-on-- or, more accurately, to confront the looming shadow of his death.

Shine On (Ao3)

The pizza that Fox Mulder ordered isn’t from a pizza place Jackson has ever heard of, like Domino’s or Pizza Hut, but it’s really good anyway. Or at least it tastes good to someone who hasn’t eaten all day. Jackson eats the first piece really quickly, then he grabs for a second without thinking, forgetting his manners. When he realizes what he’s done, he hesitates.

“Go for it,” the older man says, his eyes darting sharply back and forth between the pizza and Jackson’s face. “Eat as much as you want.”

Fox Mulder has been acting much more intense ever since Jackson told him about the red-headed lady.

What would happen if Jackson had fallen into Mulder and Scully's life earlier? What would happen if he needed them because he was framed for murder, but was afraid to open up to them fully? What would happen if that reconnection was fraught with hope, and angst, and even literal pain? (And what would happen if a formerly abandoned mytharc thread wove its way back into their lives?)

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

Tagging: @poangpals.

#Collector's Edition #cecilysass #txf #xf fanfic #poangpresents2024 #poangpals #fic #Merry Christmas poangpal!#xfiles #x-files #the x files #mine

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jokerislandgirl32 · 2 days ago

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Zachy Baby

Welp it’s Christmas Time again which means….Another Zach themed Christmas parody!!!! Written and sung by his faithful and devoted fangirl JIG!

This year we have Zachy Baby, a parody of Santa Baby! As I mentioned in this post, when I announced that this parody was in the works, I did not want the parody to be demanding of material things, I wanted it to be cute and sweet. So this version is basically me/Violet/any of Zach’s love interests wanting to be his assistant/his true love (it’s more or less from Violet’s POV, but it can work with others’ POV).

I actually used background music instead of singing a cappella, this song is so hard for me to keep up with the tune, so hopefully the music and my voice blended well!

I also wanted to note that I left some of the lyrics as is, they just worked with the whole vibe. And some of the lyrics might not be spot on, like I used Varmitech Inc. instead of Industries, and I call Zach’s headquarters his penthouse because they sounded better. Oh and when I’m (the singer is) asking Zach to take me (them) places it’s not in a dirty way, just cute, get your minds out of the gutter (I’m being sarcastic) 😂.

The song lyrics and accompanying photos are below the cut! Enjoy! And…Merry Zachmas!

Zachy baby, slip a contract under the tree for me To work at Varmitech Inc. Zachy baby, so take me to your penthouse tonight

Zachy baby, I wanna take a walk in the park With you to your favorite spot Zachy baby, so take me to your mansion tonight

Think of all the fun we’ve missed Think of all the times that we haven't kissed Next year I could be just as bad If you’ll let me tag along on your evil schemes

Zachy baby, I wanna snuggle in the yacht a lot Been your varmint all year Zachy baby, so pick me up in the jet tonight

Zachy honey, one more thing I really do need The deed to your dark little heart Zachy baby, so take me to your penthouse tonight

Zachy sweetie, and fill my stocking with handmade love notes Sign your name on my heart Zachy sweetie, and take me to your mansion tonight

Come and trim my Christmas tree With some decorations made by you and me I really do believe in us Let's see if you believe in us too

Zachy baby, forgot to mention one little thing A ring, and I don't mean on the phone

Zachy baby, so pick me up in the jet tonight Let me be your assistant tonight Let me be your love tonight

Annnddddd that’s all folks! I hope you all enjoyed it!

#wild kratts #zach varmitech #wild kratts zach #love zach varmitech #santa baby #song parody #christmas music #zachy baby #ziolet #violet varmitech #wild violet au #christmas #merry christmas #christmas 2024 #me singing #jig posting

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audarcy · 1 year ago

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Me in the shower thinking about my wife: i think one of the big reasons why het culture "wifey/hubby" "his/hers" "tiaras/mustaches" matching sets other than the cis binarism of it all is that it reveals the thought process behind heteropatriarchy wherein ideal love is a product of inversion; two puzzle pieces that fit together but are separate and made functional solely by the utility of their differences. Heteropatriarchal love retroactively redefines a person as a half of a whole, their functions and idiosyncrasies only valuable when curtailed by another's. But more than that, heteropatriarchal love is so divided. My "hers" towel and your "his." Married on a friday because saturdays are for the boys. Your woodsmoke-scented deodorant and my lavender. We cant possibly hope to understand each other and that's what lends our partnership value, somehow. But the love i cherish--the love that nurtures me--is inextricability. Not the teeth of your personality spinning the cogs of mine but the blend and blur of our edges together. The further in the tide rolls the better. The love that nurtures me is accepting everything about you into my life even if i dont feel the same way about it that you do. Its a becoming. Becoming you, becoming myself, becoming us, again and again. There are no puzzle pieces to snap together, and im no more or less of anything with or without you. But no matter what happens i carry you with me now. Even in the small ways like how we wear each others jackets and deodorant and hats. I wear your mannerisms, and your jokes. I have your interests. You have my music taste. We subsume and consume one another. We explore each other by exploring ourselves and vice versa. The process of loving you is a mapping of a vast expanse and it is the creation itself of that expanse, ad infinitum. Loving you is a fluidity of the self. I try out new ways of living through you. I see through your eyes. My life doubles by virture of sharing it with you. We finish each others sentences and joke that were the same person but its truer than we have the language to describe. My selfhood blurs into yours; Im not half of a whole, but together we are a whole. You could draw a straight line from one end of me to the other end of you, no breaks. And why shouldnt we travel that line? Step inside my head and get comfy. Mi casa es su casa. Youre me and im you.

What comes out of my mouth when she walks into the room: id let you wear my skin if i could

#emmaposting

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rabbitindisguise · 18 hours ago

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Idk if this will be helpful to anyone but a list of techniques I would use:

Confine the multipronoun character to one paragraph, and change paragraphs when another character speaks/is described/does something, noting the new character's name before switching to pronouns

Avoid dialogue tags altogether and focus on making the dialogue more obvious with heavy characterization and solid structure that makes who's speaking clear. Then later on you can sprinkle in some dialogue tags as looks appropriate once the reader grasps the character well enough to know what they would say in a certain situation

Use at least one neopronoun or singular they and use it in situations where the other character has the same pronoun but using names is way too clumsy

Probably don't switch within the same sentence (or don't make a habit of it). Unless you're committed to creating a multi pronoun user's dream come true narrative, it's difficult to follow because instinctively you're thinking "oh this is a new character." Much easier to describe them doing verb and then character continuing that verb with a different pronoun in the following sentence

Don't draw attention to it if you're not aiming to do that, it'll look sloppy instead of authentic to life. I've seen some authors make a big point of clashingly putting pronouns together and it's just not natural. Especially when other characters are speaking about them- even if someone is super good with using them equally, they often talk using one pronoun for one conversation/one day/etc and definitely at least for one sentence. But the MOST important thing about this is that people don't usually use pronouns for someone in front of them. So making a bunch of excuses for someone to refer to someone as if they're not there looks weird. Which could be the vibe you're going for- maybe you're writing a piece about gender and want it to smack you right in the face every sentence. But if you're trying to make it blend into the background it will not help to make a point of putting two different pronouns in the same sentence/same paragraph/same interaction with other characters.

Have pronouns that make sense to you. It can be difficult to juggle atypical neopronouns for you at the same time as trying to do multi pronouns for the character. Typing "him" instead of "his" on accident for example makes it even harder to read, and multi pronouns are already hard enough to read as it is (<- should not be smug about this, but is, because he don't have multiple pronouns because it's easy)

Context!!! This one is the most obvious but it really helps.

You can loosen up the further into the narrative you are because they'll be able to guess based on how the character is behaving and characterization.

Example:

Carin tapped his foot irately, becoming the human personification of anxiety. The clock said they were ten minutes late, and the time on his phone said twenty. If they didn't show up soon he was just going to-

The bell chimed and they stepped into the room, telescoping the umbrella with a SNAP! that could barely be heard over the chatter in the coffee shop. The noise didn't abate at all when they entered and the bell chimed again as the door fell shut.

"It's about damn time," he said. Worry creased his brow.

They looked like they were going to apologize and thought better of it. "I don't see what the rush is."

She rolled her eyes. "I told you, we have a deadline."

"So you've said. Like five times." They sounded more amused than stressed now that they were in the shop and out of the rain. The umbrella folded up into a little tube, one of those tiny ones you could get at target. They flagged down the barista.

He groaned. "Do we really have time for coffee?"

"Hi! I'll have a latte, and xie will have an cappuccino."

The barista looked at xir warily, but shrugged xir off. She looked a bit stressed herself since the place was packed with people trying to escape the downpour. Okay, a lot stressed. But the thought of that was making xim feel bad so xie tried not to think about it. [Alternatively: The barista looked at her warily, but shrugged her off. She looked a bit stressed herself since the place was packed with people trying to escape the downpour. Okay, a lot stressed. But thinking about the barista's situation was making her feel bad so she tried not to think about it.]

"Will that be for here or to go?"

"To go. Thanks."

The sound of change made her eyebrow twitch.

"You didn't have to-"

"You looked like you could use a coffee. Now. The deadline?" They asked, leaning their hip against the counter near the WAIT HERE FOR YOUR COFFEE :) sign.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

ok i brought this up in a discord server already but i'm gonna ask this here as well for maximum coverage

when writing characters who use multiple pronouns, what's the best way to avoid confusion?

no i'm not making this a poll as the answers are bound to be a lot more nuanced than a multiple choice question can do justice lmao

#writing

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inbabylontheywept · 4 months ago

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she was dead silent on the drive home, but that was okay. sometimes, after band practice, she was just out of words. it was a short drive to her house. the only part where it actually felt weird was after i pulled up her parent’s driveway.

after that, the silence stretched so far it smeared and left a weird residue. she kept looking at the car door like she wanted to leave, so i looked at the door too, then she looked at me, and i looked at her, and my first thought was that she was going to tell me that the door was stuck. i was used to that car always doing some damn thing. it was the car me and all my siblings had learned to drive in, and it was really beat to hell. there were dents all over the body, which we’d unsuccessfully tried fixing up with spackle. it had looked nice for maybe a week, but then the sun wrecked it - the spackle cracked up like the mud on the bottom of a dry riverbed and turned a sort of off yellow-white that made the car looked like it had been molded out of chicken shit. it also had a bullet hole it through the cabin that whistled like a toothless old man whenever the car went above 40, so loud it could drown out the radio, and a cabin that smelled so strongly of bugspray that even the arizona summer we drove everywhere we could with the windows down.

(if you have kids one day, you will maybe, possibly, begin to understand how much i loved that car.)

anyway, i was thinking about what else could possibly be wrong with the chickenshitmobile, and she just kept looking at me, and then i wondered if there was something on my face, and she just kept looking at me, and then the penny dropped and i realized she was trying to work up the nerve to break up with me.

now, i’d seen her work up the nerve to do things like this before – it could take quite a while. and knowing it was about to happen made the waiting immediately unbearable.

so i said hey.

and she looked at me, very startled, and said hey back real small. like she’d been caught. and in a way, i suppose she had.

and i said it’s okay. you can just say it. i’ll be okay.

i’m always okay.

and she said: i’m really sorry.

i loved her, you know? it was highschool, but teenagers are capable of love. the way people love changes over time just as much as the way they stand, or the way they talk, but things don’t stop existing just because they're different. opposite really – a thing only stops changing when it's fully gone.

and i said, nothing to be sorry for, and i meant it. she looked a little relived, and i was happy to give her that peace. then she left. i watched her make it through the front door, because that was just habit at that point, and then i sat there a while afterwards, checking how i felt. and the answer was not good, but good enough to make it home. good enough to limp on.

so i put my car in reverse, took my last look goodbye, and immediately backed into her neighbor’s car.

crunch.

air bags didn't go off, which was good. i left a decent dent in the bumper of the other car. genuinely couldn’t tell if i did anything to my car – anything wrong with it just kind of blended together into the general ecosystem of hand mottled, sun cracked, chickenshit spackle.

i checked my glove box, and my car insurance info was, of course, out of date. my phone was dead too. as a teenager, my phone was less my lifeline to my friends, and more my tether to my parents, so i wasn’t particularly conscious of keeping it charged. both my fault.

i sat there a few minutes, trying to think of the best way to handle things, and there was only one answer i could think of, and i hated that answer, so i spent a few more minutes trying and failing to think of a better one, and then a few more coming to peace with what had to be done.

then i went back to knock on my now ex’s front door.

her dad opened, which i was very relieved over, even if he seemed less than thrilled. he looked me over, and in a firm, but slightly apologetic way said: she does not want to see you right now.

(i think he assumed i was going to try and talk her out of the break up?)

and i said not here for her. i just backed into your neighbor’s car, and i need to call my dad, but my phone’s dead. could i borrow yours?

and he looked at me, then back at his neighbors car, which sure enough was dented, then he looked at the chickenshitmobile, and if there was something wrong with it, it just kind of blended into the general Wrongness of the car, then back to me, and i could see him imagining the last ten minutes from my pov: getting broken up with, backing into a car, having to walk up to your exes door and borrow a phone, calling my dad to tell him that i just reversed into someone.

and his expression shifted from stern and apologetic to truly sad, which felt more kind that i deserved. things only got here because i kept fucking up - forgot to look behind me, forgot to replace the insurance forms, forgot to charge my phone. it was my mess, but his sympathy meant the world to me. i probably would’ve cried if he said sorry, or patted me on the back or called me sport, but instead he said

stay out here – i’ll bring you a phone.

and then he left.

i found a nice spot on the lawn in the shade under a sycamore, then settled into his grass.i was trying not to freak out, and was doing an okay job. he came out a minute or so later, not just with a phone, but a juicebox and a jar of green olives, which really threw a wrench in the whole try not to cry thing. soon as i saw those, a few tears squoze out. i was still hoping i could pass them off as Manly Tears but then he told me that he’d gotten the olives a few weeks before and had been meaning to hand them off to me, and that this was his last chance for that. then i made a sound like a horse drowning in a bog, and he patted my back pretty rough, four solid thumps, like he wasn't sure if i was crying or choking on an olive, and was trying to cover both bases at once.

then he went back inside, and i made a few more bog horse noises while finishing off the rest of the entire jar of green olives, and then i called my dad.

he was about ten minutes away that day, and luckily was home. he drove over, and we went to the neighbor’s house, and from there things actually went quite nice. the neighbor was a retired man who actually said he could fix the dent himself, no need for insurance. he said he appreciated that i didn't just drive off, and i said i was really sorry about his car, and he said he was really sorry about my car, and then he gestured to the chickenshitmobile and i laughed because it really was a disaster on wheels.

then we left.

i thought we were going to head straight home, but instead we went to a gas station, and we both got several slim jims that we folded into thick enough coils that we could put them on a hotdog bun because the growing up mormon equivalent of having a sad brewski with your dad is just choosing to make bad decisions sober. then he took me to the canals and we watched the sun turn all orange and pink, and he looked over at me and said:

brains are good at remembering bad days. so you gotta make sure that a bad day has a good part in in, so you can remember that too. remember that when you have a kid. try to do a good job on days like that - they're going to be a big part of how they remember you.

and then he gave me a big hug and said he was never going to eat another slim jim again.

---

the year after that i went to college, which kicked my butt in new and exciting ways. and on a lot of those bad days, after a test that went sour, or a faux paus that was particularly embarrassing, or some other hardship of my new adult life, i’d stop by the gas station and pick up leathery, half jerkied hotdog before heading to the canals to watch the sun set. i’d take a bite and imagine my dad next to me, grimacing through the slim-jim wad, asking what good thing i was going use that time to remember.

and in my head, i’d say you, dad.

i’m going to remember you.

#babylon-lore #dad lore #stories #breakups #gas station hotdogs #i really like green olives okay #i dont have a sense of smell so if food isnt like WHAM in the flavor department it just doesnt do a lot for me #in my sophomore year i ate so many homemade pickles that i actually got a wee bit of scurvy #major autism L

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not-neverland06 · 3 months ago

Note

Hey I’m just begging for a fic of Logan with a shy reader that she has a crush on him but thinks he’s never going to fix on her since Jean exists (maybe the reader can make her hair color change depending on the emotion or something

a/n: sorry I haven’t been responding to asks. The new job has officially killed my spirit. But I got to work out finally and do some yoga so hopefully I’ll start feeling more motivated 🤞🤞this one will be shorter

Logan Howlett x X-men!reader (Chameleon)

“Chameleon!” You jump, shoulders flying up to your ears. Almost immediately you can feel the tips of your fingers tingling. Sure enough, when you look down they’re already disappearing. Sighing, you turn around and glare at Scott.

“What have I told you about scaring me?”

He grimaces, raising his hands in surrender. “Sorry, I forgot.”

You roll your eyes and turn back toward your project. “Every time,” you mutter bitterly. You’re not an idiot. You know he thinks scaring you is funny. The whole school does. They all like to see you yelp and blend in with the nearest surface, the only thing visible is your stupid hair.

“You’re, um, turning red.” Scott points to your head and you don’t have to look to know your hair is shifting colors.

You reach over and swat harshly at his arm, “Because you pissed me off! I know you scare me on purpose,” you accuse, jabbing your finger into his chest. He laughs and stumbles away from you.

“Alright, alright, calm down. I was just messing around a little. Look,” he glances down at the lesson plans before you and sighs. “All this will have to wait. Charles needs us all for a mission.”

You huff and shove the papers into your desk drawer. “Alright, lead the way.” You feel Scott’s eyes still lingering on your hair and glare at him. “Move it, Summers,” you demand.

You were already in a bad mood, you didn’t need him making it worse. It honestly shouldn’t be such a big deal for you. You get scared by everyone all the time. You used to enjoy it, enjoyed the way it felt like you all had your own joke. But, eventually, it started to feel less like an inside joke and more like you’re the unwitting butt of one.

Some mutants get amazing powers, like Jean or Charles. Logan’s abilities are incredible, even if he doesn’t believe you when you tell him that. But yours, well, you're better suited as the cheap gimmick of a children’s birthday party than an X-Men. You’re just a walking mood ring that blends in with her environment.

The only thing you’re good for is reconnaissance missions and embarrassing yourself. You don’t know what Charles sees in you. You’ve never understood why he insists you’re such a good asset to the team. Yes, you are good at spying on people, but you don’t need to when Charles has such strong telepathic abilities. You’re essentially useless in a fight due to a lack of regenerative or strength abilities.

More often than not you feel like a child playing dress up, chasing after the big kids. You know the others don’t mean anything bad by it when they tease you into going invisible or laugh when your hair changes. It’s all in good fun. But it doesn’t make you feel any less like easy entertainment rather than a teammate.

It doesn’t help that you’ve got little to no control over your abilities when it comes to Logan. You’ve never had such a horrifically bad crush like this. Anytime he opens his mouth around you, you're fighting off the urge to just go invisible and run away. You feel like you go feral around him. You don’t know how he hasn’t caught onto what the colors of your hair mean when you’re near him.

It’s constantly switching between some odd mix of red and pink when you talk. Which, you know what it means, but you’re praying no one else does. Red can mean angry, depending on whether you’re talking to Scott or not. You know, though, that with Logan it just means you want to jump his bones and you’re hopelessly in love with him.

Thankfully, like the others, he associates red with anger. Which isn’t great for you because that just means he thinks every time he opens his mouth you’re pissed off. At yourself, maybe, but at him, never. It just means when he wears those stupid tanktops you want to dig your teeth into his biceps and never let go.

Scott opens the door to the meeting room and you slide in past him. Charles gives you a brief smile as a greeting. You take the chair at the end of the table, which just happens to be next to Logan - completely coincidental. He gives you a tense smile and you return it stiffly. You tug your hood over your hair, praying he doesn’t notice the red in your strands yet. You don’t want him to think you hate him. You completely prefer that over him knowing how feral you are for him, but it’s not conducive to your slow plan to finally get him to acknowledge you as a sexual partner.

You swear, if your name isn’t Jean Grey, you might as well just be a shapeless blob of nothing. He glances over at her, that smoldering look in his eyes, and you try not to throw up in your mouth. Scott wraps an arm around Jean’s shoulders and they break their lingering stares.

Logan glances over at you and catches the glare on your face before you can get rid of it. He huffs and turns towards Charles. With a sigh, you sink back into your chair and focus on not just going invisible.

“Chameleon,” Charles says your name and your eyes widen. You wonder how much you’ve missed while you’ve been glaring at the back of Jean’s head. “Does that sound alright with you?”

You look around the table for help but they’re all staring expectantly at you. “Sure,” you stumble over the word, racking your brain for any answers. It seems not even your subconscious was paying attention to Charles droning on. “Sounds great.” He gives you a satisfied nod.

“Good. Off to the jet, all of you.” he rolls out of the room and you wait until he’s out of earshot to kick Logan under the table.

He glances back at you, smirking. “Don’t know what you agreed to?”

You purse your lips and shake your head. “Nope,” he gives you a look like he knew you’d say that. You hate how well he can read you when it feels like you’re constantly hitting walls trying to understand him.

“You’re scoping a place out for us. Making sure it’s safe so we can retrieve some information.” You give him a thankful look and he chuckles. “You need to start paying attention, kid.”

You groan and get up from your chair, brushing past him. “I told you to quit calling me that.” It makes you feel like that’s all he’ll ever see you as, some kid invited onto the team. You want him to see you as someone he could have sex with, hopefully, love one day.

He glances past you at Jean. She smiles at him and you fight everything inside you to not roll your eyes and gag at them. She’s holding onto Scott and making fuck me eyes at Logan, which he’s happily returning. This is just too disgusting for you.

You shove past him and ignore how he calls out your name. Your real name. He’s the only one that uses it. For some reason, most people just refer to you by Chameleon. You don’t understand why. They just don’t seem to think of you outside your abilities as a mutant.

You make it to the jet before the others, taking the private time to change into your X-Men suit. If there’s one useful thing about your ability, it’s that it affects whatever’s touching you. Which means, you don’t have to strip naked to go completely invisible. And if anyone is around you, all you have to do is hold onto them and they’ll blend in too.

You’re tugging up the zipper of your top as Logan walks in. He gives you an odd look, sitting on the bench in front of you. “Angry about something?” He asks, gaze darting up to your head.

You drag your fingers over the ends of your hair and sigh. “No,” you tell him bluntly, taking the seat beside him.

His brows furrow in confusion. “It’s red, though,” he points out, his tone colored in suspicion.

You laugh a little, “Red doesn’t always mean angry.” It’s the most you’ve ever confided about your hair colors to him. The largest hint you’ve ever given him that you don’t hate him. You’re worried if he knew how you really felt about him, he’d think you were a little creep.

He slides his arm behind you on the bench, leaning in until you’re practically sharing the same air. You know your eyes are comically large, you don’t even want to know what color your hair is turning right now. “What else does it mean, kid?” He whispers and you don’t even pay attention to the nickname. All you can see and hear right now is him. How close he is, how close your lips are.

You could lean forward an inch or two and you’d be kissing. “Um,” you swallow harshly around the lump in your throat. You don’t even know what he asked you, all you can think about now is kissing him.

“Logan!” Ororo’s voice echoes through the jet and you leap away from him, trying to calm your racing heart. Logan sighs and leans back in his seat, giving Storm a tense smile. She glances at you and laughs, “She’s nearly see-through, what are you doing to her?”

You frown and look down at your hands. Sure enough, you’re going translucent. You let out a silent groan, and tuck your knees into your chest. You take a few deep breaths until you’re one solid form again. It’s so embarrassing when that happens, when you lose control over yourself like that.

But it’s even worse when Logan does it to you. He gives you hope, stupid, hateful hope, for one minute that he might feel something deeper. Only for it to be another joke. You’re a walking mood ring, nothing more than a quick laugh to all of them.

Jean walks up the ramp, her gaze going to Logan first before drifting towards you. “Are you alright?” She mutters, trying not to let the others hear. Of course, Logan can, with his stupid enhanced abilities. “You’re turning blue,” she points out and you roll your eyes.

You can feel Logan’s stare burning holes into the side of your head and it only makes you feel worse. You hate being a joke, but you also hate showing them just how much it affects you. You don’t want to seem like a crybaby that can’t handle a little teasing. But you’d thought coming to Charles’ school meant people would stop poking fun at you. It feels like being dragged right back into high school.

“I’m fine,” you tell her. She doesn’t look like she believes you but she takes a seat anyway. Of course, placing herself right next to Logan, even though her fiancee is a few feet away from her, looking just as hurt as you. They lean into each other and whisper. They’re not even trying to hide it anymore. You let your glare bore into the floor, ignoring how much seeing them together hurts.

The mission had gone well, Logan had been hoping to go to the bar and grab a drink with you. But the second his back is towards you, you’re running off the jet. Logan calls out your name, trying to catch up. You glance back at him, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. He smiles at you and your eyes widen. You go invisible and Logan glances around, baffled.

He calls out your name again but the door ahead of him opens and closes quickly. He can only assume you’ve run away again. You always run away from him. You’re always pissed off at him. He doesn’t know what Jean’s talking about when she says you like him.

Logan’s never met anyone more repulsed by him.

“Would you just trust me?” Jean tells him lowly, creeping up behind him.

His face falls and he turns to her, glaring at her knowing smirk. “She just fuckin’ ran away from me. Pretty sure that’s about as good a hint as I’m gonna get, Jean.”

She glances over her shoulder, waving Scott away and looping her arm through Logan’s. “You’re an idiot, Howlett.” He scoffs and she swats at his shoulder. “Trust me, I can read minds, remember?”

Of course, he knows she’s got some pretty decent telepathic abilities. But he didn’t think she would so brazenly breach your boundaries. There’s an unspoken rule that the mind readers of the school don’t delve into your brain without permission.

She sees the look on his face and sighs. “I didn’t read her mind. She got drunk a little while ago and told me about her raging crush on you,” she laughs a little at your expense and Logan lets out a short chuckle. You can be a pretty sloppy drunk if they let you go too far. He figures it was one of those girl’s nights he wants nothing to do with. You’d probably let the tight reigns you keep on yourself slip for once.

“She goes red every time she sees me. I don’t know what else that could mean other than she hates me.” Logan isn’t surprised that you’re not taken with him like he is with you. He’s used to the rejection, but it hurts just a bit more coming from you. You’re so welcoming to the others.

You embrace every new member of the school with open arms. Yet, with him, you get angry whenever you see him. You see through his walls, see the rot lurking underneath them. And, rightfully, want nothing to do with him. He understands your reasoning.

Most days he barely wants anything to do with himself. He’s made a lot of bad choices in his life, half of which he can’t remember. But he’d hoped, for one minute, that you might give him a second chance. As much as Jean insists otherwise, he can see the truth of how you feel about him every time you run away.

“Red doesn’t always mean anger,” Jean tells him elusively. It’s the same thing you’d said to him on the jet. It makes his brows furrow in confusion and he glares at her.

“What else could it mean?” He demands sharply, sick of her teasing him with the possibility you might feel the same way.

She bites her lip, looking suddenly sheepish. “I can’t say-”

“Jean,” Logan snaps. He stops her from walking any further, keeping her planted in one spot with him. “Tell me,” he’s sick of the games you’re both playing with him. He just wants some straight fucking answers. How hard is that?

She sighs and looks away from him. “I promised her I wouldn’t tell.”

“And I’m sure you promised you also wouldn’t tell me how she feels about me,” he points out. There’s a sharp tone to his voice, it’s rude but he can’t bother feeling guilty about it.

She can’t meet his eye, a smirk fighting at the corner of her lips. He waits impatiently for her answer, irritation broiling quickly in his gut. He’s about to snap at her again when she finally meets his eyes.

She speaks through a laugh, like what she’s about to say is so ridiculous she can’t hold it in. “She wants,” she cuts herself off with another laugh and Logan groans in frustration. He begins to walk away from her when she yells, “She wants to fuck you!” At his back.

His eyes widen in surprise before he turns back to her with a displeased look. “Are you fuckin’ with me?” He demands, narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously.

She shakes her head and brushes past him. “You didn’t hear it from me,” she warns, tone grave as she leaves the room.

Logan is left standing in the same spot, stunned at the revelation. He’s not sure how much of that he believes. But he doesn’t understand why Jean would possibly lie to him about this. She gains nothing by setting him up for failure. As much as he doubts the honesty behind her words, he’s got no other choice but to trust them.

He heads to the most likely place you’re hiding out. Charles has a private library that’s blocked off from the kids. There are too many first editions in there, he can’t risk any of them accidentally blowing them up. You like to head there when you’re trying to avoid people.

He tries to stay quiet as he walks in, not wanting you to run off again. It’s hard to confront someone who goes invisible whenever she feels like it. He sees light blue hair draped over the back of an armchair. He feels like a creep as he stalks towards you, sneaking and pouncing on you so you can’t run away.

He can’t imagine how Jean ever thought him approaching you would be a good idea. He whispers your name, trying not to startle you. It doesn’t take a genius to see how much you hate when the others scare you. They might not mean anything bad by it, but they have to be blind not to see how much it pisses you off.

You still jump, glancing up at him with a surprised look. He looks to your hair for any tells of how you feel. Some pink weaves its way through the stands but it otherwise stays relatively blue. His brows furrow in confusion, he can’t tell if it’s a good or bad sign that there’s no red.

“How are ya, kid? Ran off pretty quick earlier.”

“Don’t call me that,” you mutter, giving him a brief glare before staring absently down at the book in your hands. Logan kneels beside your armchair, covering the pages with his hand. You huff, giving him an expectant look. “Yes, Logan?” You demand, tone short.

Logan tilts his head, examining you and your body language. You seem relatively closed off, irritated at him or something else. He doesn’t know what to say. He’s never been good with words or trying to express how he feels. He’s more comfortable showing how much he cares for those around him.

Throwing caution to the wind, he lets his hand drift to your wrist and tugs you forward. Your eyes widen as he drags you toward him. The kiss is short, he doesn’t want to push you too much. But it takes everything in him to stop himself from deepening it. All he wants is to pull you into his arms and devour you.

He holds back, parting from you with a low exhale. Your eyes flutter open and he grins when he sees the bright red your hair has turned. “What,” you sputter and stumble over your words. You shove him back and leap to your feet. “What the hell was that?” You demand, voice higher than he’s ever heard of it. “What was that?” You ask him shrilly, again.

You almost seem to be stuck in a loop, blinking rapidly and asking the same thing. Logan chuckles and gets to his feet, he gives you a knowing look and you narrow your eyes at him in disbelief.

“Jean told me.”

Your brows furrow and you shake your head. Realization dawns on your face and you gasp, looking up at him with something like horror on your expression. “No,” you tell him lowly. “She didn’t,” it almost sounds like you’re begging him to tell you otherwise.

He laughs again and your face falls. You start going clear, he can see the bookshelf through your stomach and he sighs. He grabs your hand, holding onto you before you can run again. You don’t even seem to be aware that you’re slowly disappearing from view.

“She’s, uh,” he struggles to figure out what to say to make you feel better. “She’s been coaching me,” he admits shamefully. “Trying to help me talk to you.”

You glance up at him but he can barely see your expression. The only thing reassuring him you’re here is his grip on you and your voice. “What? But I thought that-” You cut yourself off quickly and Logan glares down at where he thinks your face is.

“Thought what?”

You take a long pause and exhale deeply. “I thought,” you mutter, “you liked her.”

“She’s with Scott,” he points out bluntly. He can practically hear you roll your eyes, even if he can’t see it.

“Yeah, I know. But you guys are always whispering to each other and making googly eyes.”

“Googly eyes?” He interrupts, disgust clear in his tone.

“I was wrong,” you continue, ignoring him. “I see that now, but I thought you didn’t care about me.”

Logan huffs, he hates that you thought that. He should have just been open with you from the start. He’s faced rejection his whole life, he shouldn’t have been so petrified of it just because it could come from you. If he’d just manned up and told you earlier, it would have saved you both a lot of time and hurt.

“Kid,” he hopes he’s making eye contact with you and not just staring at some random book. It’s really hard to tell when you go invisible like this. “You’re the only person I care about in here.”

You’re quiet for a long while and he worries you’ve somehow slipped away without him realizing. But, ever so slowly, you start coming back into view. Logan awkwardly averts his eyes from your breasts, he’d been hoping he was making eye contact with you, clearly, he was wrong.

“You mean that?” You ask, and he hates the trepidation in your voice. He’s never been good with words, he doesn’t know how to tell you how much you mean to him. But he can show you.

His hand drifts up your arm, wrapping around the back of your neck and tugging you towards him. You trip over your feet, hands landing on his chest to stabilize yourself. He leans down, hovering over your lips for a moment. He waits until your eyes drift shut and your lips purse impatiently before he finally kisses you again.

He doesn’t hold himself back this time. He pours every racing thought he’s ever had about you, every one of his wanted-to-tell-you-how-he-feels-and-hasn’t moments into the kiss. Your hands slowly curl up into his shirt, wrinkling it and tugging him further into you.

To his surprise, you deepen the kiss, mouth moving over his like you want to devour him whole. He’s sure if he opened his eyes your hair would be a bright roaring red. He smirks against your lips, happy that, for once, he actually listened to Jean. If it gets him results like this, he might have to do it more often.

General Taglist: @evasmlp ♡

Logan Taglist: @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte

@mrs-ephemeral @wolviesgirl @allllium @insomniachox @izbelross ♡

#logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett #wolverine #logan howlett x you #wolverine x you #logan howlett imagine #wolverine imagine #x-men x reader #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman #anon

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endursent · 1 month ago

Text

- My Partner Turned Into A Cat And I Don't Know How To Fix It

【 content; established relationship , fluff , humour , angst if you squint(?) , gn!reader 】

【 characters; aventurine , blade , dr. ratio , jiaoqiu , jing yuan , moze , sunday 】

【 premise; " Your partner has been struck with a curse of some sort which has turned him into a cat, you have no idea how to fix it nor how long it might take. Yet you also cannot help but be rather amused by the situation despite the uncertainty…" 】

【 note; might make more parts, who knows. also two one-shots/fics between gss chapters? in this writing economy? 】

【 word count; 3.303 | read on ao3 | hsr reader ver | gi ver | gi reader ver 】

Aventurine;

You thought he’d be more agitated than this—usually Aventurine doesn’t stay still for long periods of time, always out and about, as if resting for too long or standing still raises the hairs on his neck as something rapidly approaches from behind him, unseen to anyone else.

And yet now… he sleeps curled on the sofa in his apartment, you continue to scratch your head over the situation and how to fix it—you tried to ask Dr. Ratio, who you’ve only met once by chance with Aventurine, but he seemed knowledgeable, and you’ve seen some of his theses cited in arguments online…

But all he replied with to your very concerned and urgent text message from Aventurine’s phone was; “lol”

So you’re officially on your own, it’s bad enough that Ratio has rejected your plea for help and now knows about this, if it gets out to Aventurine’s coworkers…

You sigh and plop yourself down on the sofa next to his curled form, yellow-orange fur swaying at your movements as he doesn’t even look up. For a moment, you’re a bit concerned… hopefully he’s still breathing.

Reaching a hand out, one finger pointed straighter than others, Aventurine suddenly looks up—and closes his jaw around your finger. It’s a gentle hold, not exactly a bite despite the way it looks and the prick of his teeth. You blink at him, he slow blinks at you. “You’re so sleepy,” you note. Aventurine just licks your finger, letting go of it—though it was barely a hold.

After having gotten what seemed to be a long-awaited proper rest over the span of two days, Aventurine seems to spring to life, not in the way he’s zooming all over the oversized apartment or knocking things over, he just seems very excited to see you when you come home from work—your partner might have turned into a cat for real, but your superior will NOT believe you—he sits on your thighs whether you’re on the couch, by the dinner table, kneeling to fix something under a shelf, anything.

He’s usually quite independent, so this somewhat clingy behaviour is surprising, but you don’t entirely mind, his fur is very soft.

Aventurine didn’t even make a single sound when you bathed him after accidentally spilling some bolognese sauce on his back—he was wandering around your feet and nearly tripped you when you turned around.

Perhaps this temporary (hopefully) form has made him more confident in seeking the closeness to you he craves, the need for connection that he’s too reluctant to engage in most times despite being together for so long.

Blade;

You squint your eyes open in the darkness of the night, why is it so hard to breathe suddenly? It woke you up, as if there was something hot and heavy on your chest.

And there is, when your eyes adjust to the darkness, you see large flame-coloured eyes staring at you. Blade’s pitch black fur blends into the darkness of the night, but his eyes do not—if you didn’t know better you’d think there were two eyes floating in front of your face, but the body attached to them is very much standing on your chest.

“... what?” you mumble sleepily, why is he staring at you like that? He doesn’t do this normally… you think. Maybe… does he?

No response—you’re not sure what to expect, it’s not like he can talk in this form.

He does this every night, to a point you’ve started laying on your side so he at least has to stand on the bed. One night, you even reach out and grab him, pulling him into your arms so he’s unable to stand and stare like that. You come out with scratched arms, but it was worth the somewhat peaceful sleep when he finally settles.

It doesn’t matter what you’re doing, he’s always been in the corner of your eyes, sometimes waiting for you to finish what you’re doing, sometimes just standing there—not necessarily even looking at you or engaging with you in any way. He just likes to stand in the same room.

Except now he’s perched on shelves, under sofas or chairs, looming behind a corner so you almost step on him.

Over time, he becomes a bit restless, but other than hiding away in warm, dark spots… but as you settle into bed, he’s always ready and hops onto your stomach as soon as your back hits the mattress.

The other Stellaron Hunters’ reactions range from curious concern to finding it hilarious. Firefly mentioned they have two cat members now, Blade wasn’t very happy about it… the day after she offhandedly mentioned that she could barely sleep and felt like someone was watching her the entire time. You decided not to mention his habit.

Blade doesn’t quite follow you at your heel the entire time… but he does always seem to be in the same general area, as he always has. It’s a bit of a relief, you thought you might get lonely without his constant presence.

He sometimes doesn’t run off when you pet him. Sometimes.

Dr. Ratio;

Ratio is appalled by this development, he hates it. He doesn’t have opposable thumbs, he can’t communicate properly, and you won’t stop pinching his ears. You’re lucky he doesn’t bite you.

He, in his infinite wisdom, developed a way for him to communicate with you. He may be a cat now, but his work doesn’t have space to halt for even a day! And so it’s up to you to continue it under his guidance, because he will not be seen like this by his assistants.

His way is quite funny, for complex explanations or lengthy dialogue, he will slap his paws on a holo-keyboard to type it out, but otherwise he presses buttons laid out on one of his workbenches for general commands. “Write”, “Open drawer”, “Fetch tool” (he then vaguely gestures which one), and even “Eat” and “Nap”.

You asked him if he wanted to add a voice-over to the buttons so you wouldn’t just have to listen to a buzzer made to catch your attention, but he just stared at you blankly.

You pinch and rub his ears, despite protests.

To ensure subtlety, he demands you carry him in your bag in and out of the lab and past the reception… and you can’t in good faith deny that it’s adorable to see his head poke out of your bag and squint around to make sure the coast is clear once you’re outside.

Ratio had never imagined to hear as absurd of a suggestion as when you asked him if you should ask any of his Intelligentsia Guild colleagues about this, surely they can put their brains together and come up with a solution?

Absolutely not, he says, by knocking an empty coffee paper cup over.

You caught him staring longingly at his own bathtub and asked if he wanted to take a dip, you can wash him. The idea sounded good… until he stuck his purple paw into the soapy water and felt the spine-shattering feeling of his fur sticking together and immediately wriggled so aggressively out of your grip—startling you of course—that you both went tumbling into the water.

He sat on his bed, towel under his body and over his back with a traumatised expression on his face for about forty eight minutes straight. Not even an offering of some nice cheese from the fridge brought him out of it.

Jiaoqiu;

Different from the rest of the cast, Jiaoqiu has found himself in the form of an extremely furry fox, matched exactly to the colour of his hair. He’s so soft that you can’t help but run your fingers through it, messing up the direction of the coat and requiring Jiaoqiu to stand up and shake himself a few times to right it out. It comes to a point he will nip at your fingers if your hand comes too close.

One afternoon, you’re wondering where he went off to—he has a chronic tendency to wander off, even in regular foxian form—you go into the pantry to see his tail swaying excitedly, half of his body disappearing into a woven bag of peanuts. Startled for a moment that he might not be able to digest that—you’ve never had to take care of an actual fox before—you hurry towards him and pull him out, holding Jiaoqiu up.

He screams in such a disturbingly human way you almost drop him. Whether the scream was of surprise or protest is hard to tell.

You stand in front of him, sat on the divan in your home and try to look stern… but the smile and closed eyes he makes even in this form is so eerily similar to how he normally would with his usual expression that it almost freaks you out. You shouldn’t be surprised, he’s basically just a furry version of himself… but it’s too close!

And he got away with it too, damn him.

Despite the pale pink fur, the tip of his tail and ears, his legs and paws are all dark, and you can’t help but hold them, stroke through the fur through the change of colour and Jiaoqiu—though normally not liking his tail or ears to be touched, in this form he seems to accept it… he can’t lie to you with turning his snout up, you see his tail sway when your hand comes close, despite how he would nip at them before—you’ve cracked the code, smooth the fur back down after ruffling it, and it’s acceptable.

Don’t think for a second that you’re safe to indulge in any unhealthy habits or dumb decisions even though his “warning smile” is absent, he will bite your pants and pull so hard they might rip. You were about to be roped into some nonsense by Feixiao, seeing the perfect opportunity to borrow you for some “racing”, when Jiaoqiu comes running at breakneck speed, bites your pants, and effectively drags you away.

Feixiao just watches with a grin. Good luck next time.

He sulks a bit about not being able to do his job for such an extended period of time, he has a good sense of responsibility and doesn't like to sway from his sworn duties too much.

Also, he can tell by the smell alone that the food you make for yourself in the absence of his skilled work is severely lacking in critical ingredients, and is also plated wrong. But that’s more of a subjective nitpick—maybe he’s just getting restless.

He decides to hide one of your shoes and watch in amusement as you search high and low through the house the next morning. Sitting on the carpet with a foxy smile.

Jing Yuan;

Jing Yuan is delighted. He plops himself down on you no matter what you’re doing, if there is no surface to curl up, he will lie down by your feet, or anywhere he can be touching you with at least a part of his body.

Raking your hand through his thick fur, you pull your hand back and it’s covered in white hairs, he sheds more than Mimi.

You vehemently vetoed his decision to rename Mimi to Wave-Treading Snow Lion when it began growing and showing signs of not being a grimalkin like he suspected it was.

Speaking of Mimi, you walk into the Seat of Divine Foresight and see the two of them splayed out by the massive windows, artificial sunlight bathing them in warmth as Mimi lies on the floor belly up… and Jing Yuan lies on Mimi’s belly, his own facing up towards the sun. You don’t dare disturb them—mostly because you worry that Mimi will roll over and crush poor Jing Yuan under it.

So you set the documents on his desk slowly and sneak back out, the Cloud Knights always present in the room stand still and try not to do more than whisper between themselves.

If you thought Jing Yuan was sleepy before, you were in for a surprise. As soon as his hands turned to paws, he was lounging around as lazily as he could get away with, which was infinite in this form—perhaps this was the taste of retirement he needed, and it might convince him to go through with it… you hope. For his sake.

Unfortunately, your partner is cursed with a perpetual disturbance of his naps, and a problem comes up in regards to an illegal trade of magically-charged artefacts—one of which having the potential to explode if handled wrong, which could hurt innocents during the exchange. He circles the Seat of Divine Foresight like he would normally in thought… except instead of his boots touching the ground in a rhythmic thump, it’s small paws padding on the floor.

It’s cute—but then again, he’s always cute.

Thankfully the problem is resolved due to the Cloud Knights having previously acquired knowledge of suspicious movements over the last weeks and are able to intercept the exchange.

As a reward for his hard work, you make a big bowl of juicy fruits for him to dive into—though Mimi’s snout got in before him, and stole about half of it… you snooze you lose, dozing general.

Of course, he didn’t let you off that easy, cuddles were demanded with headbutts and loud meows of protest if you turned to do anything else, so you were stuck with two cats hogging your attention for the rest of the night, good thing you have two hands to scratch behind both of their ears at the same time.

Moze;

You thought for a moment he didn’t actually retain his senses, and had ran off somewhere, you dragged Feixiao with you to search the entirety of the Xianzhou Yaoqing… only to return home several hours later, exhausted and disappointed, to see Moze sitting on the kitchen counter with a fish in his mouth, tail swaying contently as he ate it off the bones.

He would just randomly wander off and return at odd times, once you saw some blood on his paw and worried he had hurt himself, but no matter how you looked or poked and prodded, there was no wound. It must have been the capture of another fish or another… because, surely, Feixiao doesn’t have him doing work like this?

You suppose it’s quite a good cover… no one would suspect a cat…?

After locking him in your room for the workday to ensure he doesn’t go off somewhere, as you had asked an elder of the Alchemy Commission to come over and have a look at him, you came back with the old man to find the room empty.

Given cat form, Moze has become the perfect escape artist—not that there’s much anyone can do to hold him down in his normal form.

Try as you might, it becomes somewhat of a game of you trying to keep him in one single place, and him disappearing like a leaf on the wind, only to show up later with a treat… usually for himself, but once he brought you a pouch of sesame balls. You hope he paid for it somehow, but you don’t hold your breath either.

He sleeps exclusively by your feet, circles a few times and wriggles into a comfortable position against either leg that’s closer. You tried to get him to sleep closer to your torso or on your inviting arm, but he always stood up and returned to the spot by your legs after a few minutes.

One time, you were stroking his tail absentmindedly and accidentally pinched it only slightly—yet he still jumped into the air like you had just stepped on it with a loud yeowl, making you yourself jump as he suddenly sped off across the room and almost slammed himself into the door leading to the study.

You decided not to play with his tail after that, he even left scratches on the floor with his hurried scuttling across the room.

You spotted Jiaoqiu trying to feed him some of the ‘concoction’ he was making, which Moze sniffed curiously at—but you’re fairly certain there are not many things in that broth that will settle well—or at all—in his kitty stomach, and thus you swoop in and feign extreme interest in Jiaoqiu’s dish. Of course, the foxian sees through you easily and smiles widely. “Ah, why don’t you try it then?”

You got yourself into this position, and so, you resign yourself to burnt taste buds for the next few hours. It’s delicious as always, but your poor mouth… Moze rubs his furry head against your legs in comfort.

Sunday;

He couldn’t believe it. Sunday stared at himself in the reflecting mirror of the Astral Express’ windows for about ten whole minutes after being brought back to it in the state he was in. His ears flatten to his head and he glares at anyone that tries to approach, he doesn’t want to interact with anyone like this!

He flees to his room and stays under the bed for several hours before you manage to lure him out with some delicious smelling grilled fish. Sunday reluctantly pokes his head out to grab it—which is when you grab him.

He flails and meows, struggling and squirming as you pick him up and stand… only to coo at him and rub his cheeks with your thumbs, musing how cute he is.

Cute?! This is a horror scenario!

Despite his displeased meowing and nibbling on your fingers when you try to pet him, Sunday eventually gives up when he learns that you just find his struggling adorable. Suddenly your staring when he gets annoyed with small things start to make sense. Like when he hit his head on the ridge of a table after bending under it to fetch a pen he dropped, and the brief surge of frustration and annoyance he felt—only for you to swoop in to rub his head and see if it hurt.

He sulks the entire time, he doesn’t like it one bit.

March asks him if she can put him in outfits like she does with Pom-Pom, and he strategically avoids her for several days. Not a chance.

Thankfully, despite you ‘tormenting’ him on the first day, Sunday does seek comfort in you… you’re warm, and somehow you know exactly where to scratch behind his ears and under his chin where he can’t quite reach well enough.

You almost pull him in and rub your face into his furry torso when Sunday kneads at your shirt when you lay down to sleep, but decide that watching him is much cuter. You get such cuteness aggression when he does the smallest things. He purrs when you massage his paws or draw your fingers all the way down his back—and get a fistful of hair while you’re at it—and eventually he starts to do it at the smallest gestures… Pom-Pom once brought up concerns to Himeko that they thought that the train might have a problem, some kind of motor malfunction.

Turns out Sunday was napping in the warm engine room and purring so loudly that when Pom-Pom leaned close to his hiding spot, they thought it was the engine.

He doesn’t let anyone pet him properly except you, not because he doesn’t trust the rest of the Express members—trust is a strong word in any case—but because when he closes his eyes in comfort, he wants to open them again and see you stroking through his fur. Nothing personal, though March does take it a bit personally.

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lustagel · 2 months ago

Note

Perv! Virgin! Rodrick. My beloved. (This is a sign to perchance make more)

wrote it as perv! loser! virgin rodrick :p pantie stealing, cum play, normal perv behavior.

you when you first started dating, rodrick purposely walked in on you changing or naked. he’ll act like he was distracted by something or he just didn’t hear you say you were in there and walking straight into the bathroom. always mumbles out a “sorry” when you tell him to leave.

helps himself to your panties every time you leave them at his house. if you can’t come and get them within a couple days, they won’t be washed until you tell him you’re coming to get them. he begs you to tell him when you’re coming over to get them so he can wash them quickly before you can questions him about the cum stains.

loves when you wear small clothes: tight shorts that fit your ass perfectly, a deep cut shirt that almost give him a view of your nipples. he’s stuttering over his words, trying to keep his breath steady but he’s about to cum in his pants.

loves when your lips are wet. whether it’s with spit because you just kissed him or with lipgloss. really just likes the thought of them being wet with his cum.

hates when you drape your leg on his. you’re not only so close to the point where he can smell your sweet perfume but the warm of your leg is giving him a rush.

who is touched starved. turns down the air a bit when he wants to lay on your chest so he can feel your nipples get hard. he fall asleep like this every time. his face pressed up to your tits, hair messy, lips slightly in a pout while little huffs leave the small gap between his lips.

needs to be seen as super cool in public so he always has a arm around your shoulder, even though he’s already super cool with you on his arm, but is holding his breath the whole time with your sweet scent so close to him.

who once saw you blending over with only a t-shirt and underwear on, and his heart almost gave out. has photograph memory when it comes to lewd views of you so he definitely cums a couple times to it.

who once he gets his cock in you, he can’t stop. he’s never felt anything so warm and wet before. he’s continually pumping his cock into you eagerly even after he’s cum once. he’s whining and his legs are slightly giving out, but he just can’t stop.

“think i can be inside you forever?”

eats pussy like you would think loser would. of course, he’s slightly delusional about his ability to please you at first but once he’s laying in between your legs all he can do is blink up at you and wait for instructions.

the scent on your freshly wet pussy is literally everything to him, he’s been going off weak panties for sooo long. on that note, he steals fresh panties now. before he eats your pussy, he takes them off of you and makes sure to stuff them in his pocket or does it later when you’re too dazed with his mouth on you to notice.

likes jacking off and rubbing your clit with his cum covered fingers.

when you ride him, he literally comes in a couple minutes. he’s embarrassed, you can see it by the way his face turns red, and he’s whining out as he does. “sorry-ugh s-sorry, sorry i just- hmph.” with you still on his cock, promises you he’ll do better next time and asks you to keep going.

kisses you through it. they’re greedy and needy too. he knows he’s inside of you but he just wants to be even closer. also needs to hide his embarrassing whines even though you’ve told him many times that you like them.

#. ( rodrick heffley )#. ( loser! rodrick )#. ( perv! virgin! rodrick )#rodrick heffley fanfiction #rodrick heffley #rodrick #rodrick fanfic #diary of a wimpy kid rodrick #rodrick heffley x reader #doawk rodrick #rodrick x reader #rodrick smut #rodrick x y/n #diary of a wimpy kid #to make up for me not posting the fic yet . .

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itneverendshere · 5 months ago

Text

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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m4rv3l-girl · 2 months ago

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Vanilla

Bucky x Y/N

Bucky overhears Y/N talking to Nat about her unfulfilled desires…

Requests Open!

Warnings: Smut. Fingering. Oral (f!receiving). P in v sex. Slight Sir kink. All after the red division —————-

The soft afternoon set in around the compound, casting warm shadows in the living room where you and Bucky often spent lazy afternoons together.

Today, however, he was out training with Steve, and you found solace in the quiet as you prepared a small snack in the kitchen. You were humming softly to yourself, the sound of your movements blending with the faint echoes of clanking weights coming from outside.

Just as you were about to pour yourself a cup of tea, Natasha entered, her hair pulled back in a tight bun, a knowing smile on her lips. “Hey, Y/N!” she called out, crossing the room with a confident stride.

“Hey, Nat!” you replied, your heart lifting at her presence. “Want some tea?”

“Sure!” she said, leaning against the counter, her gaze curious.

“So, how’s it going with Bucky..?”

You felt a slight blush rise to your cheeks, a smile breaking across your face. This was your favorite question - because life with Bucky was just incredible. “It’s great! I mean, he’s just... he’s amazing.” The warmth of your feelings was palpable, and you couldn’t help but beam as you spoke about him.

Natasha chuckled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I can tell you’re smitten. What’s he been up to?”

“Oh, you know, just the usual. Training, trying to get better at the whole ‘normal life’ thing. He’s been really sweet lately.”

You absentmindedly stirred your tea, remembering the little things he did—like the way he always made sure you had your favorite snacks or how he would leave little notes around the house.

“Sweet, huh?” Natasha teased. “What about in the other department?”

You paused, biting your lip. Nat was never bashful.

The question made your heart race. “Well, it’s great, it is... but I guess I have some... unfulfilled desires,” you admitted shyly, your voice dropping as you glanced away.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, leaning in as if she were about to divulge a juicy secret. “Like what?”

You hesitated, a nervous flutter in your stomach. “You know, maybe trying something a little less... vanilla.” The words slipped out, and you felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you.

Natasha smirked, leaning closer with a conspiratorial tone. “No, I get it. You want to spice things up a little?”

“Yeah, that’s it. I just think we could do something more…”

“Kinky?” She stated.

You felt the itch of blood rushing to your face.

“I understand that, it took me and Bruce a while to get into the swing of something more interesting. He was always scared he’d break me. Think that Bucky’s problem?”

Before you could reply, a heavy footfall sounded from the hallway, and the door swung open. Bucky stepped into the room, glancing between the two of you.

“What’s going on in here?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly, the playfulness in his voice tinged with curiosity.

You quickly straightened up, forcing a smile. “Oh, we were just talking about... nothing much!”

Bucky looked from you to Natasha, his instincts picking up on the slight tension in the air. “Right. Well, I’ll just go grab a drink.” He turned, his expression unreadable as he walked away.

Natasha’s gaze lingered on you for a moment, her teasing smile replaced by something softer. “You should talk to him, you know. Communication is key,” she said gently before leaving you alone in the kitchen.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of what you had just shared hanging in the air. What would he say if you brought it up? Would he be upset? You hoped he wouldn’t take it the wrong way. He was perfect in so many ways, but you longed for a deeper connection, a chance to explore more together.

——————————————————————————————————

Later on, you and Bucky were sitting together on the couch, watching something neither of you were watching.

“Everything okay?” you asked one evening as you curled up next to him on the couch, your fingers tracing patterns on his arm.

He looked down at you, a slight frown crossing his face.

“Yeah, of course, sweetheart,” he replied, but the hesitation in his voice made you worry.

“Are you sure? You seem a little... off.” You shifted, trying to catch his gaze, but he looked away, focusing on the television instead.

“I’m just... thinking about stuff,” he said, his tone evasive.

You wanted to press him further, to ask about that day with Natasha, but something held you back. Instead, you settled for resting your head on his shoulder, hoping he would open up when he was ready.

——————————————————————————————————

As the days passed, Bucky started to show subtle signs of change.

He began cooking more elaborate meals, experimenting with spices and flavors, making an effort to make each dinner an occasion. You found yourself laughing and teasing him about his newfound culinary skills, and it felt like old times when the air was light and carefree.

One night, after a particularly delightful dinner, you found yourself sitting on the counter, your legs swinging as Bucky cleaned up the dishes. You watched him with admiration, noticing the way his muscles flexed as he scrubbed the plates, lost in thought.

“Want some help?” you offered, swinging your legs over the edge.

“Nope, I got this, darling,” he replied, flashing you a smile that made your heart skip. “Just enjoy your time, Kitten.”

But as he continued washing the dishes, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still bothering him. “You’ve been acting a little different lately,” you ventured, trying to keep your tone light.

He paused, glancing over his shoulder at you. “Different how?”

You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “I don’t know. Just... more serious, I guess. Is everything okay?”

Bucky set down the dish he was cleaning and turned to face you fully, the light reflecting in his blue eyes. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Just... trying to think about what you said the other day.”

Your heart raced at his words, hope mingling with anxiety. “What do you mean?”

He stepped closer, the space between you charged with unspoken words. “About wanting more than just the usual, you know?”You swallowed hard, feeling your cheeks heat.

“Bucky, I didn’t mean to—”He interrupted, his expression softening.

“No, it’s okay. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. And I want to make sure you’re happy, that you feel fulfilled.”

A wave of warmth washed over you, but your nerves fluttered. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, Bucky. I just—”

“No, I want to,” he said firmly, stepping closer until your legs brushed against his. “I just didn’t know if that was something you really wanted.”

Your heart pounded as you looked into his eyes, the sincerity of his words warming you from the inside out. “I do. I just want to explore... things together.”

Bucky took a deep breath, his gaze intense. “Then let’s do it. I want to make it special for you.”

The promise in his voice sent butterflies dancing in your stomach, a mix of excitement and nerves flooding your senses. “Okay,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. “I’d love that.”

Bucky's hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your skin. The tenderness of the gesture made your breath catch.

"Tell me what you want," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "I want to hear you say it."

You felt a rush of heat flood your body at his words. Your tongue darted out to wet your suddenly dry lips. "I... I want you to take control," you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. "To push my boundaries a little."

His eyes darkened at your confession, pupils dilating with desire. "Are you sure?" he asked, his tone serious despite the obvious want in his gaze.

You nodded, feeling both nervous and exhilarated. "Yes. I trust you, Bucky."

A slow smile spread across his face, equal parts tender and wicked. "Alright, doll. Let's start slow." His metal hand slid around your waist, pulling you flush against him. "First rule - you do exactly as I say. Understood?"

A shiver ran down your spine at the commanding tone in his voice. "Yes," you breathed.

"Yes, what?" he prompted, eyebrow raised.

You swallowed hard, realizing what he wanted. "Yes... sir."

Bucky's eyes flashed with approval. "Good girl," he purred, the praise sending a jolt of pleasure through you. "Now, I want you to keep your hands at your sides. Don't move them unless I tell you to."

You nodded, heart racing as he slowly began unbuttoning your shirt. His fingers brushed against your skin with each movement, leaving trails of fire in their wake. When he reached the last button, he pushed the fabric open, exposing

your lace-covered breasts to his hungry gaze. Your nipples hardened instantly under his scrutiny, straining against the delicate fabric.

"Beautiful," Bucky murmured, his flesh hand skimming along your collarbone. "I've always loved this bra on you."

You fought the urge to arch into his touch, remembering his command to keep still. The effort it took sent a thrill through you.

"Thank you, sir," you whispered, your voice breathy with desire.

Bucky's eyes met yours, a mix of lust and tenderness in their blue depths. "You're doing so well already, doll. Now, I want you to close your eyes."

You obeyed instantly, darkness enveloping you as your other senses heightened. You could hear Bucky's steady breathing, feel the heat radiating from his body so close

to yours. The anticipation was almost unbearable as you waited for his next move.

Suddenly, you felt the cool metal of his left hand tracing along your jawline, down your neck, across your collarbone. The contrast between the chill of the vibranium and the warmth of your flushed skin made you gasp softly.

"Shh," Bucky murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "Remember, no moving unless I say so and be quiet, Kitten"

You bit your lip, fighting to stay still as his metal fingers danced along the edge of your bra, teasing but not quite touching where you desperately wanted him to.

His flesh hand came up to cup your other breast, kneading gently through the lace. A whimper escaped your throat at the dual sensations.

"That's it, doll," Bucky praised, his voice rough with desire. "You're doing so well for me."

His metal thumb brushed over your nipple through the thin fabric, causing it to harden instantly. You arched your back slightly, craving more contact, but Bucky tsked softly.

"What did I say about moving?" he reminded you, withdrawing his hands. The loss of his touch was agonizing.

"I'm sorry," you breathed. "Please, Sir. I need you."

He chuckled low in his throat. "I know you do, sweetheart. And you'll have me. But only when I decide you're ready."

His flesh hand slid down your stomach, fingers playing with the waistband of your panties. Your thighs trembled with the effort of keeping still as he teased you mercilessly.

"Tell me what you want," Bucky commanded, his voice husky.

Your breath caught in your throat as you struggled to form coherent thoughts. Bucky's touch was electrifying, sending sparks of pleasure coursing through your body.

"I... I want you to touch me," you managed to whisper, your voice trembling with need. "Everywhere."

Bucky's eyes darkened with desire as he slowly slid your panties down your legs, leaving you completely exposed to his hungry gaze. His metal hand trailed up your inner thigh, the cool touch making you shiver with anticipation.

"Like this?" he asked, his fingers ghosting over your most sensitive areas, barely making contact.

You whimpered, fighting the urge to buck your hips. "More, please," you begged.

Bucky leaned down, his hot breath fanning across your skin as he placed open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone.

Bucky leaned down, his hot breath fanning across your skin as he placed open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone. His metal hand continued its teasing exploration between your thighs, while his flesh hand cupped your breast, thumb circling your nipple.

"Tell me exactly what you want me to do," he murmured against your skin. "I want to hear you say it."

Your cheeks flushed with a mix of arousal and shyness, but you forced yourself to vocalize your desires. "I want... I want your fingers in me," you breathed. "And your mouth here..."

A low growl rumbled in Bucky's chest as he obliged, sliding two cool metal fingers into your slick heat while his lips closed around your nipple. You gasped at the dual sensations, your back arching involuntarily.

Bucky's metal fingers curled inside you, finding that spot that made you see stars.

His tongue swirled around your nipple as he sucked gently, sending hard rushes of pleasure through your body. You moaned, struggling to keep still as he'd commanded.

"That's it, doll," he murmured against your breast. "Let me hear how good it feels."

His thumb found your clit, circling it with just the right pressure. You cried out, your hands fisting in the sheets as you fought the urge to grind against his hand.

"Sir, please," you whimpered. "I need more."

He lifted his head, his blue eyes dark with desire as they met yours. "What do you need, sweetheart? Tell me."

You swallowed hard, gathering your courage. "I want... I want your mouth on me. Down here."

Bucky's eyes flashed with hunger at your words. "Is that so?" he murmured, trailing kisses down your stomach. "I think I can arrange that."

He settled between your thighs, his warm breath teasing your sensitive flesh. You trembled in anticipation as he placed soft kisses along your inner thighs, purposefully avoiding where you needed him most.

"Bucky," you whined, desperate for his touch.

He chuckled, the vibration sending shivers through you. "Patience, doll. I'm going to take my time with you."

Finally, his tongue flattened against your core, licking a long, slow stripe.

You gasped, your hips bucking involuntarily.

Bucky's metal arm draped over your pelvis, holding you in place as he continued his ministrations. His tongue circled your clit before sucking, your hips bucking involuntarily. Bucky's metal arm draped across your lower abdomen, holding you in place as he explored you with his mouth. His talented tongue swirled around your clit before dipping lower, tasting your arousal.

You moaned loudly, forgetting his earlier command for silence in your pleasure.

Bucky paused, lifting his head to look at you with a mix of amusement and stern reproach in his eyes. "What did I say about staying quiet, doll?" he murmured, his breath hot against your sensitive flesh.

You bit your lip, breathing heavily. "I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice trembling with need. "Please don't stop."

He smirked, trailing his flesh hand up your inner thigh. "I suppose I can forgive you this time," he said, his voice low and husky. "But you'll have to work harder to stay silent."

Without warning, he plunged another 2 fingers inside you, curling them expertly as his mouth returned to your clit. The sparks of euphoria were overwhelming, and you had to clamp a hand over your mouth to stifle your cries of pleasure. Bucky worked you relentlessly, his fingers pumping in and out while his tongue flicked and swirled. You writhed beneath him, desperate for release yet fighting to stay quiet. Your free hand tangled in his hair, urging him closer.

He growled against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. You could feel the pressure building, your thighs trembling as you neared the edge. Bucky sensed your impending climax and redoubled his efforts, curling his fingers to hit that perfect spot inside you while sucking hard on your clit.

Your body tensed as waves of ecstasy crashed over you.

You bit down hard on your lip, tasting blood as you fought to remain silent. Your back arched off the bed as your orgasm ripped through you, vision going white at the edges. Bucky didn't let up, working you through every aftershock until you were a quivering, oversensitive mess beneath him.

Finally, he lifted his head, a self-satisfied smirk on his face as he took in your flushed cheeks and heaving chest. He crawled up your body, pressing a searing kiss to your lips. You could taste yourself on his tongue as he explored your mouth.

"Good girl," he murmured against your lips. "You did so well staying quiet for me."

His erection pressed insistently against your thigh, reminding you that he was far from finished with you. Bucky trailed kisses along your jaw and down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. His metal hand cupped your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple and drawing a soft gasp from your lips.

"Think you can stay quiet for what comes next, doll?" he murmured against your collarbone, his voice rough with desire.

You nodded eagerly, beyond words as anticipation coursed through you. Bucky chuckled darkly, positioning himself between your thighs. He rubbed the tip of his cock along your folds, teasing you mercilessly. Your hips bucked, seeking more contact, but his hands gripped your waist firmly.

"Ah ah," he tsked. "Patience, remember?"

You whimpered softly, desperate for him to fill you.

Bucky's eyes locked with yours, dark with lust, as he slowly pushed inside. Your breath caught in your throat as he stretched you, the delicious burn of his thick length making your toes curl. He paused when fully sheathed, giving you a moment to adjust.

"So tight for me, doll," he groaned, his jaw clenched with the effort of holding still.

You clenched around him experimentally, drawing a sharp hiss from his lips. Taking that as his cue, Bucky began to move. He started with slow, deep thrusts that had you seeing stars. Your hands roamed his broad back, feeling the muscles flex beneath your fingertips as he drove into you.

Gradually, his pace increased. The room filled with the sound of skin on skin and your muffled whimpers.

Bucky's pace increased, driving into you with powerful strokes. The old couch creaked beneath you as he pounded relentlessly, hitting that perfect spot deep inside with each thrust. You buried your face in his neck, muffling your cries of pleasure against his skin.

His metal hand gripped your hip, the cool plates a stark contrast to your feverish skin. The other tangled in your hair, tugging your head back to expose your throat. Bucky's lips latched onto your pulse point, sucking and biting as he marked you as his.

"Say you’re mine," he growled, his voice rough with exertion and desire. "Say it."

"Yours," you gasped out, teetering on the edge of orgasm. "I'm yours, Bucky."

He groaned at your words, his hips snapping faster. "That's right, Kitten. All mine…Fuck-" Bucky growled, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "Come for me again. Let me feel you."

His words pushed you over the edge. Your back arched as waves of pleasure crashed over you, the corners of your vision going white as your second orgasm came faster than the first had. You bit down on Bucky's shoulder, your walls clenching around him.

Bucky groaned at the sensation, his hips stuttering as he chased his own release. With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, spilling himself with a low moan of your name.

You both lay there for a moment, breathing heavily as you came down from your highs. Bucky's weight pressed you into the arm of the couch, his face buried in your neck as he placed soft kisses along your collarbone.

“Still too vanilla, Princess?” He muttered.

“I…”

“Maybe next time I’ll get the rope out.” Bucky deadpanned.

——————————————————————————————————-

So, what do you think? Should Bucky get the rope out? 🤔

#bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky smut #marvel

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astroidology · 5 months ago

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Astro notes.

random astrology things I’ve noticed.

don’t try to start an argument with a virgo mars!!!! these individuals never really care enough to argue UNLESS you’re saying something that they know it’s wrong. they won’t let you get away with it. they will explain you in detail why you’re wrong in a passive aggressive way. making you feel really dumb lol they love being right

mercury in pisces. most find it hard to express through words to say exactly how they feel so instead they do it through music, songs,, art, sketches, some hand-made gifts. any kind of act of love. and they love those kind of things too. they find it more meaningful.

leo risings usually have a good sense of style. they want to look nice, wear nice clothes, nice jewelry. they tend to be super shy and quiet too, they have a hard time opening up to people. which is weird bc they have alot of charisma and people usually gravitate towards them, mostly because they’re fun to be around. but sometimes they care too much about what people think of them and that can stop them from being themselves.

moon in capricorn are so hard on themselves. whenever I think of this placement, it reminds me of that knot on your throat when you’re trying so hard not to cry. just holding back the tears. that’s them. all the time. and it’s not just tears they’re holding back, it’s also the words they never say when they’re really upset, completely avoiding any kind of interaction. or the good news they don’t ever share because they’re too afraid it’ll go away. or just anything that they keep to themselves bc they don’t want to bother anyone else. They’re also really intuitive!!! I feel like Capricorn is not known to be intuitive like that but it’s the fact that they can read people very well, they see right through people and they’re always ready for what’s going to come next. this placement can definitely make someone much quieter than usual, no matter the sun sign.

libra risings are extremely social and likable!!! this people love the attention and you definitely notice them from afar. they’re so good at fitting in. they have such grace to them, which is such a Libra thing but having this sign as your rising, it’s the way you come across to other people. They really try to stay out of drama and usually the ones to be cool with everything and everyone. they adapt very easily to their environment which can be good or bad. very easily influenced. they also like aesthetics a lot. visuals mean a lot to them. they want to make sure they look good at all times and they’re big on words meaning they like compliments a lottt!!! they look better with neutral and pastel colors. physically they tend to have longer faces and a fuller bottom lip from what I noticed, usually leaner body type. even if they’re not super fit, they have a good body distribution.

gemini risings just like any other air sign, also love to interact with people (sometimes) but they tend to be more reserved. they only open up once they comfortable then they don’t ever stop talking lol they’re super bubbly and curious. and can often be super observant. you can kinda know they don’t like you if they don’t talk you a lot lol because they truly loveee to talk. it’s a little difficult to spot them right away because they tend to blend in with other people but once they open up, you can see the their Gemini coming out. they tend to have small facial features, they can even be shorter in height. and there’s a more reserved look to them, kinda like virgo. but unlike virgo risings, gemini risings look somewhat more approachable and relaxed.

mars in pisces easily catches feelings because they won’t ever stop thinking about that one person. Most of the time they don’t even know the person that well but it’s just how they feel. And they tend to have a very sweet approach to love, lots of emotions, kinda like not being able to fck around with other people once they’re in love. They also feel like they have to vocalize it to get over it. They can’t really move on easily, no matter how fucked up the situation is.

mercury in any fire sign (leo/aries/sagittarius) are always having to tell people it’s just a jokeeee lol they tend to be very direct and their type of humor is usually so stupid, it sounds like their making fun of everyone but it’s also usually their love language. they love when people match their energy, they feel free to say anything and they lovee ittt!! another thing is If they don’t fck with you, they won’t even bother to talk to you, they might even talk sht about you or make little comments like that, they need to make it lol

moon in pisces struggles a lot to open up. it’s such a weird thing because they wear their heart in their sleeve so everyone knows they’re not doing well, people notice there’s something off, you can even see it in their face and eyes, but a moon in pisces will never be able to fully talk about it. it’s almost like talking about it makes it real and they don’t want any negative feelings. We all know they live in their own dream world, where it’s safe and peaceful and happy. and it’s all good until reality hits. And they hate it. they want to crawl back in bed, fall asleep for days. listen to some loud music and just close their eyes. They need to shut their minds off so it’s very common for them to develop escape mechanisms. can be really bad habits that make them feel so good. they really need to keep their mind clear and out of any negativity because everything they think about too much becomes real. a lot of popular music artists atm have this placement and you can kinda see how well they blend in with whatever is going on. you can see their genuine interests and opinions in their songs and performances.

moon in the 5th house ppl are creative!!! whatever their hobby is, they make sure it’s done right and they’re usually so good at it. their delivery it’s amazing. they express how they feel in such a dramatic way.

venus in aquarius is an interesting placement. it reminds me a lot of venus in virgo and I do think they have a lot of things in common but I still think venus in aquarius is more complex than that. They need reassurance in any way possible because it makes them feel safe but they are too afraid to committing to someone and having to emotionally depend on someone. And it’s not that they’re disloyal, if anything they’re one of the most loyal placements. they love imperfections, they love the real and raw. they understand there’s more to people and they accept people. but they’re afraid of it. they don’t think someone will be able to love their imperfections, so as soon as they start feeling too much, they take a couple steps back. they suddenly need some space. or at least that’s what they think they need. they don’t like to detach but they do it when they feel unsafe or unloved. and it’s always something that they can’t even understand themselves.

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alfheimr · 8 months ago

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My Favorite Cheap Art Trick: Gradient Maps and Blending Modes

i get questions on occasion regarding my coloring process, so i thought i would do a bit of a write up on my "secret technique." i don't think it really is that much of a secret, but i hope it can be helpful to someone. to that end:

this is one of my favorite tags ive ever gotten on my art. i think of it often. the pieces in question are all monochrome - sort of.

the left version is the final version, the right version is technically the original. in the final version, to me, the blues are pretty stark, while the greens and magentas are less so. there is some color theory thing going on here that i dont have a good cerebral understanding of and i wont pretend otherwise. i think i watched a youtube video on it once but it went in one ear and out the other. i just pick whatever colors look nicest based on whatever vibe im going for.

this one is more subtle, i think. can you tell the difference? there's nothing wrong with 100% greyscale art, but i like the depth that adding just a hint of color can bring.

i'll note that the examples i'll be using in this post all began as purely greyscale, but this is a process i use for just about every piece of art i make, including the full color ones. i'll use the recent mithrun art i made to demonstrate. additionally, i use clip studio paint, but the general concept should be transferable to other art programs.

for fun let's just start with Making The Picture. i've been thinking of making this writeup for a while and had it in mind while drawing this piece. beyond that, i didn't really have much of a plan for this outside of "mithrun looks down and hair goes woosh." i also really like all of the vertical lines in the canary uniform so i wanted to include those too but like. gone a little hog wild. that is the extent of my "concept." i do not remember why i had the thought of integrating a shattered mirror type of theme. i think i wanted to distract a bit from the awkward pose and cover it up some LOL but anyway. this lack of planning or thought will come into play later.

note 1: the textured marker brush i specifically use is the "bordered light marker" from daub. it is one of my favorite brushes in the history of forever and the daub mega brush pack is one of the best purchases ive ever made. highly recommend!!!

note 2: "what do you mean by exclusion and difference?" they are layer blending modes and not important to the overall lesson of this post but for transparency i wanted to say how i got these "effects." anyway!

with the background figured out, this is the point at which i generally merge all of my layers, duplicate said merged layer, and Then i begin experimenting with gradient maps. what are gradient maps?

the basic gist is that gradient maps replace the colors of an image based on their value.

so, with this particular gradient map, black will be replaced with that orangey red tone, white will be replaced with the seafoamy green tone, etc. this particular gradient map i'm using as an example is very bright and saturated, but the colors can be literally anything.

these two sets are the ones i use most. they can be downloaded for free here and here if you have csp. there are many gradient map sets out there. and you can make your own!

you can apply a gradient map directly onto a specific layer in csp by going to edit>tonal correction>gradient map. to apply one indirectly, you can use a correction layer through layer>new correction layer>gradient map. honestly, correction layers are probably the better way to go, because you can adjust your gradient map whenever you want after creating the layer, whereas if you directly apply a gradient map to a layer thats like. it. it's done. if you want to make changes to the applied gradient map, you have to undo it and then reapply it. i don't use correction layers because i am old and stuck in my ways, but it's good to know what your options are.

this is what a correction layer looks like. it sits on top and applies the gradient map to the layers underneath it, so you can also change the layers beneath however and whenever you want. you can adjust the gradient map by double clicking the layer. there are also correction layers for tone curves, brightness/contrast, etc. many such useful things in this program.

let's see how mithrun looks when we apply that first gradient map we looked at.

gadzooks. apologies for eyestrain. we have turned mithrun into a neon hellscape, which might work for some pieces, but not this one. we can fix that by changing the layer blending mode, aka this laundry list of words:

some of them are self explanatory, like darken and lighten, while some of them i genuinely don't understand how they are meant to work and couldn't explain them to you, even if i do use them. i'm sure someone out there has written out an explanation for each and every one of them, but i've learned primarily by clicking on them to see what they do.

for the topic of this post, the blending mode of interest is soft light. so let's take hotline miamithrun and change the layer blending mode to soft light.

here it is at 100% opacity. this is the point at which i'd like to explain why i like using textured brushes so much - it makes it very easy to get subtle color variation when i use this Secret Technique. look at the striation in the upper right background! so tasty. however, to me, these colors are still a bit "much." so let's lower the opacity.

i think thats a lot nicer to look at, personally, but i dont really like these colors together. how about we try some other ones?

i like both of these a lot more. the palettes give the piece different vibes, at which point i have to ask myself: What Are The Vibes, Actually? well, to be honest i didn't really have a great answer because again, i didn't plan this out very much at all. however. i knew in my heart that there was too much color contrast going on and it was detracting from the two other contrasts in here: the light and dark values and the sharp and soft shapes. i wanted mithrun's head to be the main focal point. for a different illustration, colors like this might work great, but this is not that hypothetical illustration, so let's bring the opacity down again.

yippee!! that's getting closer to what my heart wants. for fun, let's see what this looks like if we change the blending mode to color.

i do like how these look but in the end they do not align with my heart. oh well. fun to experiment with though! good to keep in mind for a different piece, maybe! i often change blending modes just to see what happens, and sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. i very much cannot stress enough that much of my artistic process is clicking buttons i only sort of understand. for fun.

i ended up choosing the gradient map on the right because i liked that it was close to the actual canary uniform colors (sorta). it's at an even lower opacity though because there was Still too much color for my dear heart.

the actual process for this looks like me setting my merged layer to soft light at around 20% opacity and then clicking every single gradient map in my collection and seeing which one Works. sometimes i will do this multiple times and have multiple soft light and/or color layers combined.

typically at this point i merge everything again and do minor contrast adjustments using tone curves, which is another tool i find very fun to play around with. then for this piece in particular i did some finishing touches and decided that the white border was distracting so i cropped it. and then it's done!!! yay!!!!!

this process is a very simple and "fast" way to add more depth and visual interest to a piece without being overbearing. well, it's fast if you aren't indecisive like me, or if you are better at planning.

let's do another comparison. personally i feel that the hint of color on the left version makes mithrun look just a bit more unwell (this is a positive thing) and it makes the contrast on his arm a lot more pleasing to look at. someone who understands color theory better than i do might have more to say on the specifics, but that's honestly all i got.

just dont look at my layers too hard. ok?

#process #art tutorial #unsure what else to tag this as. if this does not post properly i will cry.

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thewildwaffle · 2 months ago

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Friend Shaped

The professor clacked his beak sharply three times in the front of the room. The students, around 40 individuals, and many species from across the galactic arm hushed almost immediately. “Welcome back, class. The day for your first planet-side mission to Nemulon 3 is fast approaching, and we've still got a lot of safety training to cover, so let's get started.” The professor stepped aside to allow a projection to display against the board behind him. A picture of a blue, green, and gray planet shone brightly against the dark tapestry of space. Nemulon 3 had been discovered deca-orbits ago but offered a wide variety of biomes that were the perfect blend of challenging and safe to train new recruits to the Galactic Alliance’s Exploration Fleet. “Today we're covering some alien fauna you may encounter while conducting exploratories. Most are small enough that they won't pose much of an issue, but we do have a few category 5 lifeforms that you need to be aware of.” The display behind the professor changed from an image of Nemulon 3 from orbit to a chart topped by 5 images with their respective labels: karindru, oold, dini-dini, barintuna, and great lavalen. Before the professor could start in on the next part of his lecture, a voice spoke out from the middle of the classroom.“That looks like a dog.” The professor stood with his beak half open. He was certainly not used to being interrupted, let alone this early in the lesson. “A what?” He finally choked out. There was a pause as if the offending student was thinking better about drawing more attention to themselves before slowly putting their hand up in the air. It was a human. Cadet Valentina, if the attendance role had been accurate. “I said it… it looks like a dog.” Human Valentina inhaled as if gathering the courage to say more. “They're a carnivorous canine species on earth that humans domesticated thousands of cycles ago and selectively bred to be pets.” The professor’s beak closed with a snap and some of the features near the base of his neck ruffled slightly. “Nemulon 3 is 47 light years away from Earth. Any similarities between each planet’s fauna is purely coincidental, a product of parallel evolution.” The human bowed her head and said nothing else, so the professor continued. “Now, for many of you of larger stature, a single karindru might not pose much of a threat, but their real danger comes from their numbers. They live, travel, and hunt in packs. Thankfully, their method of communicating with each other in their packs are quite loud, so you will hear them long before you see them, and hopefully, before they see you. Typically you’ll hear anything from yipping, chirping, and howling.” “Kind of like coyotes.” The professor stopped and stared at the human again, feathers ruffling once again. “Another kind of canine species back home,” Valentina offered quietly. If the professor was capable of growling, he might have been tempted to at that moment. Instead, he sighed slowly. “I can assure you, trying to get close to these will likely end with your injury or death.” “Well, that's what ancient humans thought about wolves too, but then we bred them into dogs and now they’re our best friends.” “Karindru are not, nor are any native creatures on this planet, your friend. Not now, not ever.” The professor turned sharply back to the board. The entire class was dead silent. Few even dared to breathe. It was quiet enough, in fact, to hear the human mumble under their breath, “If not friend, then why friend-shaped?”

The human was promptly given detention and assigned extra homework of writing “I will not try to domesticate any native fauna on Nemulon 3” one hundred times by hand.

#humans are weird #humans are space orcs #aliens #original writing #writeblr #space orcs #hfy #humans are awesome #dogs

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marvyu · 7 months ago

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SO WHAT? YOU'RE NOT MY BOYFRIEND.

pairings. choi seungcheol x female reader genre(s). smut, fluff, angst

summary. your roommate ruins your date night and treats you with something better.

warnings. explicit language, sexual themes, unprotected sex, swearing, angst, jealousy, emotional confrontation, masturbation (Male and Female Receiving) clit stimulation, oral sex (Female Receiving) hair pulling, aftercare, dirty talk, overstimulation -- if i missed anything lmk!

It was another late night at the office, the clock nearing midnight as the soft hum of computers and the occasional shuffle of papers filled the air. You leaned back in your chair, stretching your arms above your head and stifling a yawn. Across the room, Seungcheol was doing the same, his eyes meeting yours with a familiar glint. This had become your routine – working late into the night, side by side, before heading back to your shared apartment.

"Are you ready to call it a night?" Seungcheol asked, his voice breaking the silence.

You nodded, shutting down your computer. "Definitely. I think I’ve stared at this screen long enough to see the code in my sleep."

He chuckled, standing up and grabbing his jacket. "I know the feeling. Let's get out of here."

The walk back to your apartment was quiet, the streets deserted and the air crisp. It was a short distance, just a few blocks, and the familiarity of the path made the silence comfortable. When you reached the apartment, Seungcheol unlocked the door and held it open for you, a small gesture that always made you smile.

Once inside, the routine continued. You dropped your bags by the door, kicked off your shoes, and headed to the kitchen. "Want something to drink?" you called over your shoulder.

"Sure, just water for me," he replied, disappearing into his room to change out of his work clothes.

You poured two glasses of water and settled onto the couch, waiting for him to return. Moments later, he emerged in his usual post-work attire – gray sweatpants and a plain T-shirt, looking effortlessly handsome. He joined you on the couch, taking his glass with a grateful nod.

"Long day," he said, taking a sip.

"Tell me about it," you replied, leaning back against the cushions. "I don't know how much longer I can keep up with these late nights."

He turned to you, a playful smirk on his lips. "You say that every night, and yet here we are."

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips. "Yeah, yeah. Don't remind me."

This was your life – a blend of work and personal time that blurred the lines between professional and intimate. Seungcheol was more than just a co-worker; he was your confidant, your roommate, and the one constant in your hectic life. The nights often ended like this, with the two of you sitting close, sharing quiet moments that hinted at something more.

It had started innocently enough, a mutual attraction that neither of you had acknowledged at first. But late nights at the office had a way of breaking down barriers, and before long, your relationship had shifted into something physical. There was an unspoken agreement between you – no strings attached, no complications, just a way to unwind after the stress of the day. And it worked, for the most part.

The routine was simple and comforting. After sharing a drink and some light conversation, the atmosphere would naturally shift. Seungcheol would give you that look, the one that made your heart skip a beat and sent a shiver down your spine. It was a look that promised escape from the day's stress and a dive into something much more exhilarating.

"Ready for bed?" he would ask, though the question always held a double meaning.

"Yeah," you’d reply, though the answer was never just about sleep.

You both moved with a practiced ease, the kind that comes from familiarity and mutual understanding. There were no awkward hesitations or second guesses – just a smooth transition from the living room to the bedroom. Seungcheol would wrap his arms around you from behind as you brushed your teeth, his lips brushing against your neck, sending a thrill through you. These moments of quiet intimacy were as much a part of your routine as the more passionate encounters that followed.

In the bedroom, the air would be thick with anticipation. Seungcheol had a way of looking at you that made you feel like the most important person in the world. He was attentive, always knowing exactly what you needed without you having to say a word. It was this unspoken connection that made your arrangement work so well. He understood you, and you understood him.

He would start slowly, his touch gentle yet firm, his kisses soft but growing more urgent as the moments passed. There was a rhythm to it, a dance that you both knew the steps to by heart. The way his hands roamed your body, the way he whispered your name – it was a routine that brought both of you immense comfort and satisfaction.

"You're so beautiful," he'd murmur against your skin, his voice husky with desire.

"And you're insufferable," you'd tease back, your breath hitching as his hands found their way to your most sensitive spots.

But beneath the teasing and the passion, there was a deeper connection. The routine was more than just physical release; it was a way for both of you to unwind and find solace in each other. The world outside could be chaotic and demanding, but in those moments, everything else faded away.

Afterwards, you would lie together in a tangled mess of limbs and sheets, the post-coital glow making everything feel warm and safe. Seungcheol would hold you close, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on your skin. It was in these quiet moments that you felt the most at peace.

"You should try to get some sleep," he'd whisper, his breath warm against your ear.

"I will," you'd reply, though you often found yourself staying awake a little longer, savoring the feeling of his body next to yours.

One morning, as you and Seungcheol were enjoying a lazy breakfast together, you decided to share some news that had been on your mind. It was your day off, and the apartment was filled with the comforting scent of freshly brewed coffee and the soft hum of the radio playing in the background. You had been chatting casually about work and plans for the day when you took a deep breath and decided to bring it up.

"Hey, Seungcheol," you started, trying to keep your tone light and casual, "I wanted to let you know that I’m bringing a friend over tonight. His name is Haru."

Seungcheol's reaction was subtle, but you noticed it immediately. His grip on his coffee mug tightened slightly, and there was a brief flash of something in his eyes – jealousy, perhaps? – before he quickly masked it with a neutral expression.

"Oh?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "A friend, huh? What's the occasion?"

You shrugged, trying to hide your own nervousness. "Just thought it would be nice to hang out. Haru and I have been talking for a while, and I thought it would be good to introduce him to you."

There was a beat of silence as Seungcheol processed this information. He took a sip of his coffee, his eyes studying you over the rim of his mug. "I see. Well, it’s your place too. You can invite whoever you want."

You nodded, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension. You had expected some sort of reaction from Seungcheol, but his indifference felt almost worse than outright disapproval. You couldn’t quite place it, but there was an undercurrent of tension in the air now, a silent understanding that things might be changing.

The rest of the day was a whirlwind of activity as you prepared for Haru’s visit. You spent hours cleaning the apartment, making sure everything was perfect. The kitchen was spotless, the living room was tidy, and you even put fresh sheets on the guest bed just in case. All the while, Seungcheol watched you with a mixture of amusement and something else you couldn’t quite identify.

"You're really going all out for this guy, huh?" he remarked, leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen as you bustled around.

"Well, I want to make a good impression," you replied, trying to sound casual. "It's important to me."

Seungcheol just nodded, his expression unreadable. "If you say so."

As the day wore on, your excitement grew, but so did your anxiety. You couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Seungcheol's reaction than he was letting on. You had always valued your relationship with him, but you also knew that things couldn't stay the same forever. Introducing someone new into your life felt like a step forward, but it also felt like a step away from the comfortable routine you had built with Seungcheol.

The afternoon sun filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow on the apartment. You found yourself glancing at the clock more often than usual, your heart beating a little faster with each passing minute. You had spent so much time with Seungcheol, sharing laughs, secrets, and intimate moments, that the thought of changing that dynamic was both thrilling and terrifying.

Seungcheol, meanwhile, tried to focus on his own tasks. He moved around the apartment with an air of forced nonchalance, his usual confidence replaced with a slight edge of unease. He couldn't deny the pang of jealousy that gnawed at him, but he also didn't want to overstep any boundaries. You were free to see whoever you wanted, and he had no right to interfere. Still, the thought of you being with someone else made his chest tighten.

"Need any help with dinner?" Seungcheol offered, his voice breaking the silence that had settled between you.

You looked up from the vegetables you were chopping and smiled. "Sure, you can set the table."

As he busied himself with plates and cutlery, Seungcheol couldn't help but steal glances at you. There was a lightness in your step, a brightness in your eyes that he hadn't seen before. It was clear that you were genuinely excited about Haru's visit, and that realization made his heart ache just a little bit more.

"What's he like?" Seungcheol asked, trying to sound casual.

"Haru?" You paused, thinking about how to describe him. "He's sweet, funny, and really kind. We've been talking a lot, and I think there's something special between us."

Seungcheol nodded, forcing a smile. "That's great. I'm glad you're happy."

You sensed the underlying tension in his words but chose not to push it. Instead, you focused on the task at hand, preparing a meal that you hoped would impress Haru. As the aroma of cooking filled the apartment, you allowed yourself to relax, reminding yourself that this was a positive step forward.

By the time evening rolled around, everything was ready. The table was set, the food was prepared, and you had even taken the time to freshen up and change into something nice. As you gave yourself a final once-over in the mirror, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the evening ahead.

Just as you were about to head back to the living room, there was a knock at the door. Your heart leaped in your chest, and you quickly moved to answer it. Opening the door, you were greeted by Haru's warm smile.

"Hey," he said, his eyes lighting up when he saw you. "You look amazing."

"Thanks," you replied, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. "Come in."

Haru stepped inside, and you took a moment to admire him. He was tall and lean, with dark hair that fell slightly over his eyes and a charming, easygoing demeanor. He wore a casual outfit – jeans and a fitted shirt that showed off his athletic build. There was an air of confidence about him that put you at ease and made you feel excited about the evening ahead.

As you led Haru into the apartment, you couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. You had worked hard to make everything perfect, and now it was time to see how the evening would unfold. You guided him to the living room, where the table was set, and the aroma of the dinner you had prepared filled the air.

"This looks fantastic," Haru said, glancing around appreciatively. "You really went all out."

You smiled, feeling a warm glow of satisfaction. "I just wanted to make sure you felt welcome."

Just as you were about to introduce him to Seungcheol, you heard the sound of a door opening behind you. Seungcheol stepped out of his room, wearing his usual post-work attire of gray sweatpants and no shirt. His appearance was casual, yet it held an undeniable magnetism.

His well-defined muscles, honed from hours at the gym, moved with an effortless grace. His broad shoulders and chiseled chest caught the light just right, casting shadows that emphasized his sculpted physique. But it was his face that truly captivated – a strong, chiseled jawline framed a mouth that could shift from a teasing smile to a serious line in an instant. His dark hair was tousled, giving him an endearingly roguish look, while his eyes, a piercing shade of deep brown, held an intensity that made it hard to look away.

There was a certain scent about him, a mix of clean soap and something distinctly his, that lingered in the air and made your heart race. As he moved, there was an air of confidence and quiet strength about him, yet a hint of vulnerability in the way his eyes flickered over to you, just for a moment, before settling on Haru.

Seungcheol stopped in his tracks, his gaze locking onto Haru and then drifting down to where your hands were still connected. The room seemed to freeze in that moment, an awkward silence enveloping you all.

"Hey," Seungcheol finally said, his voice low and rich, like a warm breeze. "I didn't realize we had company."

You quickly dropped Haru's hand, feeling a bit flustered. "Seungcheol, this is Haru. Haru, this is my roommate, Seungcheol."

Haru extended a hand, smiling politely. "Nice to meet you."

Seungcheol glanced at the outstretched hand, his eyes narrowing slightly. He made no move to take it, instead crossing his arms over his chest, his expression remaining cool and unreadable. "Likewise," he said, his gaze never leaving Haru's face.

There was a palpable tension in the air, and you couldn't quite understand why. Seungcheol's usual easygoing demeanor seemed to have been replaced by something more guarded and intense. You brushed it off, attributing it to the sudden change in routine.

"Why don't you join us for dinner?" you suggested, trying to ease the awkwardness.

Seungcheol glanced at the table, then back at you. "I was just going to grab a snack," he said, his tone casual. "But thanks for the offer."

Ignoring the lingering tension, you led Haru to the dining table and gestured for him to sit. As you brought out the food, Seungcheol moved to the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge with an air of nonchalance that seemed almost too forced. He emerged with a bottle of water and a snack, then leaned against the counter, watching you and Haru with a look that you couldn't quite decipher.

"So, how did you two meet?" Seungcheol asked, his voice cutting through the quiet conversation you were having with Haru.

"We met through a mutual friend," Haru explained, smiling at you. "It’s been really nice getting to know Y/N."

"That's great," Seungcheol replied, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "Y/N is pretty amazing."

The compliment, though genuine, felt loaded with unspoken words. You glanced at Seungcheol, trying to gauge his mood, but his expression was unreadable. You turned your attention back to Haru, determined to make the evening enjoyable despite the strange undercurrent of tension.

As the evening progressed, the atmosphere in the room grew increasingly strained. You and Haru settled into a comfortable rhythm, your conversation flowing easily despite the occasional pointed look from Seungcheol. Haru seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say, and you found yourself relaxing more with each passing minute. The food was delicious, and the atmosphere should have been perfect, but you couldn't shake the feeling that Seungcheol was watching your every move with a scrutinizing gaze.

"So, Haru," Seungcheol interjected suddenly, his voice slicing through the lighthearted chatter with the precision of a well-aimed dagger. "What line of work keeps you occupied?"

Haru looked up, momentarily startled by the abrupt inquiry. "I'm a graphic designer," he replied, offering a polite smile. "I work at a small agency downtown."

"Fascinating," Seungcheol drawled, leaning back in his chair with a languid grace that belied the intensity of his gaze. "It must be quite rewarding to indulge in such creative endeavors. Y/N and I, alas, are consigned to the monotonous world of numbers and figures."

You shot Seungcheol a pointed look, silently beseeching him to temper his remarks. However, he merely quirked an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips as if he were savoring the undercurrent of tension he had created.

"It has its moments," Haru conceded, his smile faltering ever so slightly under the weight of Seungcheol's scrutiny. "I do enjoy the creative challenges."

"Good for you," Seungcheol replied, his tone laced with a veneer of civility that did little to mask the sarcasm lurking beneath. "It's always heartening to hear of someone finding fulfillment in their work."

Sensing the rising tension, you endeavored to steer the conversation back to safer waters. "Haru, you were telling me about that fascinating project with the interactive website. Do go on."

Haru's face brightened at the change of topic, and he launched into an enthusiastic description of his latest project. You listened with genuine interest, but you couldn't ignore the way Seungcheol's eyes kept flickering back to you, his expression a perplexing blend of amusement and something darker.

As the evening wore on, Seungcheol's interruptions grew more frequent and increasingly pointed. He made snarky comments about the food, pointed out trivial inconsistencies in Haru's stories, and even "accidentally" bumped into you as he moved about the apartment. Each incident seemed designed to unnerve Haru, whose initial charm was gradually giving way to visible discomfort.

"Excuse me," Seungcheol said at one point, reaching across the table with a deliberate nonchalance that belied his true intent. He managed to knock over Haru's glass of water, sending a cascade of liquid across the table. "Oops. My apologies."

You quickly grabbed a towel to mop up the spill, your frustration simmering just below the surface. "It's fine," you said through clenched teeth, attempting to maintain your composure. "No harm done."

Haru forced a smile, but the strain was evident in his eyes. "It's okay," he murmured, though his voice lacked its earlier warmth.

Seungcheol's behavior was wearing on your nerves, and you couldn't fathom why he was acting this way. He had never been so openly antagonistic before, and it was starting to fray your patience. All you wanted was to enjoy your evening with Haru, but Seungcheol seemed hell-bent on making that impossible.

The final straw came when Seungcheol "accidentally" brushed against Haru's arm as he walked past, causing Haru to drop his fork with a loud clatter. The sound reverberated through the tense silence, amplifying the growing discord.

"Seriously?" you snapped, your eyes flashing with indignation as you glared at Seungcheol. "Can you please give us a moment's peace?"

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, his expression one of feigned innocence. "I was merely getting a drink," he said, holding up his glass as if to underscore his point.

"Well, can you manage it without causing a scene?" you retorted, your frustration boiling over.

Haru placed a soothing hand on your arm, his touch gentle and calming. "It's okay, Y/N," he said softly, his eyes beseeching you to let it go. "Really, it's fine."

But it wasn't fine. You could see the hurt and confusion in Haru's eyes, and it only fueled your anger further. Seungcheol was ruining what should have been a pleasant evening, and you were at a loss to understand why.

The tension in the room had reached a palpable peak, a silent battle of wills between Seungcheol and Haru with you caught in the crossfire. The evening that you had hoped would be a pleasant introduction of new possibilities had turned into a minefield of unspoken emotions and escalating conflict.

Seungcheol's final act of sabotage came as the three of you attempted to settle down in the living room. You had just suggested watching a movie, hoping it might diffuse the tension, when Seungcheol abruptly stood up, his eyes glinting with barely concealed irritation.

"I don't think this is working out," he announced, his voice ringing with a finality that froze you in place. He turned to Haru, his expression hardening. "I think it's time for you to leave."

Haru's eyes widened in shock, his calm demeanor slipping as he struggled to process Seungcheol's blunt dismissal. "Excuse me?" he said, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"You heard me," Seungcheol replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "This isn't your place, and I think it's best if you leave now."

You felt a rush of anger and embarrassment flood your cheeks. "Seungcheol, what the hell are you doing?" you demanded, stepping between him and Haru. "You can't just kick him out like this!"

Seungcheol's eyes met yours, a storm of emotions swirling within them. "I'm doing what needs to be done," he said, his tone unyielding.

Haru stood up, his expression a mixture of hurt and frustration. "It's okay, Y/N," he said, his voice resigned. "I'll go. This isn't worth the trouble."

You turned to Haru, your heart sinking. "I'm so sorry, Haru. This is not how I wanted tonight to go."

Haru managed a small, sad smile. "It's not your fault," he said softly. "I'll call you later."

As Haru gathered his things and headed for the door, you felt a pang of guilt and regret. This was supposed to be a simple, pleasant evening, and now it was ending in disaster. Once the door closed behind Haru, the silence in the apartment was deafening.

You turned to Seungcheol, your anger boiling over. "What the hell was that for?" you shouted, your voice shaking with fury. "You just ruined my date! Why would you do that?"

Seungcheol's jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with a mix of defiance and something else you couldn't quite place. "He wasn't right for you," he said flatly.

"That's not for you to decide!" you shot back, your frustration reaching a breaking point. "You had no right to interfere like that. Haru is a good guy, and you just humiliated him for no reason!"

Seungcheol took a step closer, his presence towering over you. "I couldn't just stand by and watch you pretend everything was fine when it clearly wasn't," he said, his voice low and intense. "You deserve better than some guy who doesn't even know you."

"Better?" you echoed, incredulous. "And who are you to say what I deserve? You've made it very clear that our...whatever this is...doesn't mean anything beyond a few nights of fun. You don't get to dictate who I see or don't see."

Seungcheol's eyes darkened, his frustration matching your own. "Is that what you think?" he demanded, his voice rough with emotion. "That this doesn't mean anything to me?"

You crossed your arms, trying to shield yourself from the vulnerability his words evoked. "What else am I supposed to think? You keep things casual, no strings attached. That's what we agreed on."

"And maybe I was wrong," Seungcheol said, his voice softer now, but no less intense. "Maybe I want more than that. Maybe I want you."

The words hung in the air between you, a raw and unfiltered confession that left you reeling. You searched his eyes, looking for any sign that he was playing with you, but all you saw was sincerity and a depth of emotion that took your breath away.

The silence following Seungcheol's confession was thick with tension, each second stretching like an eternity. You stood there, heart pounding, grappling with the raw honesty of his words. The anger that had fueled your argument moments ago was now mingled with confusion and a flicker of something unnamed and unsettling.

"Y/N," Seungcheol began, stepping closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "I mean it. I want you."

You opened your mouth to respond, to argue, but before you could utter a single word, Seungcheol closed the distance between you. His hands cupped your face with a tenderness that belied the intensity of his emotions, and then his lips were on yours, silencing your protests in an instant.

The kiss was both unexpected and overwhelming. Seungcheol's lips were warm and insistent, moving against yours with a fervor that took your breath away. For a moment, you were lost in the sensation, the world narrowing to the points where your bodies connected. His kiss was demanding yet tender, a blend of passion and desperation that made your heart race.

But just as quickly, the reality of the situation crashed back over you. You pulled away, your breath coming in short, uneven gasps. "No," you said, shaking your head as if to clear it. "You don't get to do that."

Seungcheol's eyes searched yours, a mix of confusion and hurt flashing across his face. "Y/N, I—"

"No," you interrupted, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and frustration. "You can't just kiss me and expect everything to be okay. You don't get to treat me like some casual hookup and then suddenly decide you want more. It doesn't work like that."

Seungcheol took a step back, his hands dropping to his sides. "That's not what I'm doing," he said, his voice low but steady. "It's not like that."

"Then what is it?" you demanded, crossing your arms over your chest in a defensive gesture. "Because all you've ever wanted from me is something casual. And now, after ruining my date, you think you can just change the rules?"

"Y/N, please," Seungcheol pleaded, his eyes filled with a vulnerability that made your heart ache. "Just listen to me."

You hesitated, the sincerity in his voice giving you pause. "Fine," you said, your tone still guarded. "I'm listening."

Seungcheol took a deep breath, as if gathering his thoughts. "I know I've been an idiot," he began, his voice steady but tinged with regret. "I've been hiding how I really feel because I was scared. Scared of messing things up between us, scared of losing you if it didn't work out."

You frowned, your anger slowly giving way to confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about how much you mean to me," Seungcheol said, taking a step closer. "I'm talking about how I can't stand the thought of you being with someone else because it makes me realize just how much I care about you. This isn't just some fling for me, Y/N. It never was."

His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of unspoken emotions. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the raw honesty in his expression. It was a side of Seungcheol you hadn't seen before, and it left you reeling.

"But you never said anything," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "You never gave me any indication that you felt this way."

"I know," Seungcheol admitted, his voice thick with regret. "And I'm sorry for that. I thought I could keep things casual, that it would be easier that way. But seeing you with Haru... it made me realize that I can't do this anymore. I can't pretend that what we have doesn't mean everything to me."

You stared at him, your mind racing as you tried to process everything he was saying. The anger that had fueled your argument was slowly giving way to a deeper, more complex mix of emotions. Part of you wanted to believe him, to take the leap and see where it could lead. But another part of you was still hurt, still wary of getting your heart broken.

The silence hung heavy between you, laden with the weight of unspoken words and the raw, intense emotions that Seungcheol’s confession had unearthed. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the raw vulnerability that he rarely showed. And in that moment, your resolve began to waver.

“Seungcheol,” you began, your voice trembling, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything,” he replied, stepping closer, his gaze unwavering. “Just let me show you how I feel.”

Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both fervent and tender. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you against him, and you felt your body respond to his touch, the anger and confusion melting away, replaced by a burning desire.

His kiss deepened, his tongue sliding against yours with a sensuality that made your knees weak. You clung to him, your hands tangling in his hair as you surrendered to the intensity of the moment. Seungcheol’s hands roamed over your body, his touch igniting a fire in your veins.

He broke the kiss, his breath ragged as he looked down at you, his eyes dark with desire. “I need you, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice rough with longing. “I need you to know how much you mean to me.”

You nodded, unable to find your voice. He took your hand, leading you to the bedroom, each step filled with anticipation and unspoken promises. Once inside, he turned to you, his gaze smoldering.

“Undress for me,” he commanded softly, his eyes never leaving yours.

With trembling hands, you complied, shedding your clothes until you stood bare before him. Seungcheol’s eyes roamed over your body, his expression one of awe and desire. He stepped closer, his hands moving to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, sending shivers down your spine.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “I want to make you feel good. Will you let me?”

You nodded again, your breath hitching as his hands trailed down your body, leaving a path of fire in their wake. He knelt before you, his eyes locking onto yours as he pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, his tongue darting out to taste your skin.

The sensation was electric, and you felt a surge of arousal as his mouth moved closer to your core. He parted your folds with his fingers, his tongue flicking over your clit with a skill that made you gasp. Seungcheol’s hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he devoured you, his tongue and lips working in tandem to bring you to the brink of ecstasy.

“Oh, God, Seungcheol,” you moaned, your hands fisting in his hair as your hips bucked against his mouth. “Don’t stop.”

He hummed in response, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through you. His tongue circled your clit, teasing and tormenting you until you were trembling with need. He slid two fingers inside you, curling them to hit that sweet spot, and you cried out, your body arching towards him.

Seungcheol didn’t relent, his mouth and fingers working together to drive you closer and closer to the edge. You could feel the tension building, a coil tightening in your belly, and then it snapped, a tidal wave of pleasure crashing over you as you came, your cries echoing in the room.

He didn’t stop, his movements gentle as he coaxed you through the aftershocks, his eyes never leaving your face. When you finally came down, he stood, his fingers trailing your slick arousal up to your lips.

“Open,” he instructed, and you obeyed, taking his fingers into your mouth, tasting yourself on his skin. The look of pure desire in his eyes made your pulse quicken, and you sucked his fingers clean, reveling in the way he watched you.

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice a low rumble. He kissed you again, his tongue exploring your mouth with a possessiveness that made your knees weak. You could taste yourself on his lips, the mingling of flavors heightening your arousal once more.

Seungcheol broke the kiss, his hands moving to undo his pants. “Lie down,” he instructed, and you did, stretching out on the bed, your body still humming with the remnants of your orgasm.

He shed his clothes quickly, his erection standing proud as he joined you on the bed. He knelt between your legs, his eyes drinking in the sight of you spread out before him. “I’m going to make you feel so good,” he promised, his voice thick with need.

He took his cock in hand, stroking it slowly as he watched you. “Touch yourself,” he ordered, and you complied, your fingers finding your clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles as you watched him.

Seungcheol groaned, his hand moving faster on his cock as he watched you pleasure yourself. “That’s it, baby,” he murmured, his eyes locked on yours. “Make yourself come for me.”

You bit your lip, your fingers moving faster, the combination of his gaze and the sensation pushing you closer to the edge. “Seungcheol,” you moaned, your body tensing as you felt your orgasm building once more.

“Come for me,” he commanded, his voice rough with desire. “Come for me, Y/N.”

His words pushed you over the edge, and you came with a cry, your body trembling with the force of your release. Seungcheol watched you, his hand moving faster on his cock as he brought himself to the brink.

He leaned over you, his eyes burning with need. “I need to be inside you,” he said, his voice a raw whisper. “I need to feel you.”

You nodded, spreading your legs wider in invitation. Seungcheol positioned himself at your entrance, his cock slick with your arousal. He pushed in slowly, the sensation of him filling you making you gasp.

He set a slow, steady pace, each thrust deep and deliberate. The pleasure built with each movement, the intensity of the connection between you making your head spin. Seungcheol’s hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Look at me,” he murmured, his voice a soft command. “I want to see you.”

You locked eyes with him, the depth of emotion in his gaze taking your breath away. The rhythm of his thrusts increased, the pleasure building to a fever pitch. He reached down, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts.

The combination was too much, and you felt yourself hurtling towards another orgasm, the intensity overwhelming. “Seungcheol,” you gasped, your body arching towards him.

“Come for me,” he urged, his voice rough with need. “I want to feel you come around me.”

His words sent you spiraling over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you with a force that left you breathless. Seungcheol followed you, his release spilling into you as he groaned your name, the sensation of him filling you only heightening your pleasure.

He collapsed beside you, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. You turned to him, your body still humming with the aftershocks of your release. He pulled you close, his lips pressing gentle kisses to your forehead.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, his hand smoothing over your hair.

You nodded, your heart full. “I’m more than okay,” you replied, your voice a whisper. “I’m perfect.”

Seungcheol smiled, his eyes warm with affection. “Good,” he said, pulling you even closer. “Because I’m not letting you go.”

The promise in his words wrapped around you, a comforting reassurance of the depth of his feelings. In that moment, you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together. And that was all you needed.

The first light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting a soft, golden glow over the room. You stirred, nestled in the warmth of Seungcheol’s embrace, his arm draped protectively around your waist. For a moment, you lay still, savoring the tranquility of the morning, the quiet intimacy that enveloped you both.

Seungcheol shifted beside you, his eyes fluttering open. A slow smile spread across his face as he took in the sight of you in his arms. "Good morning," he murmured, his voice husky with sleep.

"Good morning," you replied, your own smile matching his.

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "How did you sleep?" he asked, his lips trailing soft kisses down your temple and along your cheek.

"Better than I have in a long time," you admitted, feeling a warmth spread through you at his affectionate gestures.

Seungcheol’s kisses continued, each one a tender promise of his feelings. He moved to your other cheek, then your nose, then your chin, covering your face with a constellation of soft, loving kisses. You couldn’t help but giggle at the sensation, your heart swelling with affection for the man beside you.

"Seungcheol," you murmured, your fingers threading through his hair as he nuzzled against your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

"Hmm?" he hummed, his lips moving to your jawline.

"This is nice," you said, your voice soft. "I could get used to waking up like this."

He pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a tenderness that made your breath catch. "So could I," he replied, his hand cupping your cheek as he leaned in to kiss you softly on the lips.

Just as you were losing yourself in the sweetness of the moment, a familiar sound interrupted the tranquility. The door creaked open, and you felt a rush of fur and energy as Kkuma, Seungcheol’s dog, bounded into the room.

"Kkuma!" Seungcheol exclaimed with a laugh, sitting up as the dog jumped onto the bed, tail wagging furiously.

Kkuma wasted no time, planting herself between the two of you and showering Seungcheol with enthusiastic licks. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight, the dog’s antics bringing a lightness to the room.

"Kkuma, stop," Seungcheol said, though his laughter belied any real annoyance. He scratched behind the dog’s ears, giving her the attention she so eagerly sought. "You’re interrupting a very important moment, you know."

You smiled, reaching out to pet Kkuma as well. "I think she’s just making sure we’re both awake," you said, your heart full as you watched the playful interaction between Seungcheol and his beloved pet.

Kkuma’s presence had an undeniable way of lightening the mood, her joyful energy infectious. She turned her attention to you, her eyes bright with curiosity. You scratched her behind the ears, earning a contented sigh as she settled down between you and Seungcheol.

The three of you lay there for a while, enjoying the peaceful morning.

"Y/N," Seungcheol said softly, his hand finding yours under the covers. "About last night..."

You turned to him, your heart skipping a beat at the seriousness in his tone. "Yes?"

"I meant everything I said," he continued, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. "I want to be with you. For real. No more pretending, no more keeping things casual."

You felt a lump form in your throat, the sincerity in his eyes nearly overwhelming. "I want that too, Seungcheol," you whispered, squeezing his hand. "I want to be with you."

He smiled, a look of pure relief and happiness washing over his face. "Then let’s do it," he said, leaning in to kiss you again, this time with a gentle, lingering sweetness that left no doubt about his feelings.

Kkuma, not to be left out, nudged her way between you once more, her tail thumping against the bed as she demanded attention. You both laughed, the moment made all the more perfect by her playful interruption.

As the morning sun continued to rise, you and Seungcheol talked about your future, about the possibilities that lay ahead. There was a sense of hope and excitement, a feeling that together, you could face whatever came your way.

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