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cinematiquemuse · 1 day ago

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No HR Policy Covers This

From the series: This Is Fine (And Other Lies I Tell at Work)

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: John Walker x Bob Reynolds

Chapter Summary: A smoke break in the parking lot sparks an unexpected connection, but cheer practice chaos, a beach getaway, and a well-timed office gossip throw everything off balance. Back at work, Bob’s drunk vacation posts fuel the teasing, tensions simmer, and on the eve of competition. A quiet shopping run with John turns into anything but routine.

Warnings: 18+ content, minors dni, smut, friends with benefits, alternate universe - office, hurt/comfort, eventual explicit sexual content, eventual p in a.

Word Count: 7,667

Miss Ian's Masterlist | This Is Fine (And Other Lies I Tell at Work) Masterlist | AO3

Chapter 2: No HR Policy Covers This

Bob wasn’t a people person. Especially not during work training, where forced group exercises and “fun facts” felt like social landmines. Without Joaquin — who’s currently stuck on a different break schedule this week — Bob had been disappearing from his groupmates during breaks, hiding behind the office, cigarette in hand, eyes fixed on nowhere beyond the parking lot.

That’s where John found him. It's been days since the hallway incident™️ and they've only been seeing each other on the production floor where the trainees are completing their nesting period.

“Didn’t peg you for a smoker,” John said, stepping into his space like it was nothing, flicking his lighter before Bob could even reach for his.

Bob glanced over, unimpressed. “Didn’t peg you for someone who smokes alone.”

John didn’t flinch. Just smirked and took a drag, letting the silence stretch. Bob didn’t tell him to leave. That kind of said everything.

After that, it became a thing — their thing.

For the rest of the week, John would show up on their shared breaks without a word. Bob would offer his lighter, even though John always had his own. Their conversations were rare and dry, more eye contact and eyebrow raises than actual dialogue. But it was… easy. Familiar in a way that shouldn’t have been.

“Sam Wilson just asked me to share a fun fact,” John said one day, slipping into place beside him like he’d always been there.

Bob exhaled slowly. “Please tell me you made something up.”

“I told him I cry whenever I see a dog in a costume.”

Bob snorted. “You’re the worst.”

John leaned a little closer, smoke curling lazily between them. “Still showed up here, though.”

Bob didn’t look at him. He didn’t have to. He just held out the lighter again, fingers brushing John’s for half a second too long.

“Yeah,” he said, voice low. “Guess I’m worse.”

A week later, it happened.

Cheerdance practice.

Bob stood stiffly at the edge of the office gym, decked out in athletic wear he was 90% sure hadn’t existed in his closet until this week. The water bottle in his hand was still sealed. The people around him looked like they had taken “corporate spirit” as a personal challenge — all teeth and enthusiasm, like extras from a dystopian Bring It On remake.

He stared down at the foam mats like they might swallow him whole. Honestly? He’d welcome it.

He didn't sign up for this. Not really. He just said “yes” at the wrong time, to the wrong trainer, while distracted by the wrong pair of steel-blue eyes.

(Okay. Technically, the right pair. Just—morally inconvenient.)

God. Mr. Office James Dean really was that beautiful.

And Joaquin? Nowhere in sight.

Not because he bailed. No — Bob would’ve respected that.

Joaquin had warned him in advance, all smug grins and sunscreen ads, reminding Bob that he and his family were headed for a week-long beach trip. Bob had even been invited, technically. The trip overlapped with the second week of cheerdance practice, and Bob was graciously granted a few days off to join them.

But Joaquin? Still used it as an excuse to opt out entirely.

Yelena let him. Just waved him off with a shrug and a “sure, whatever.”

What a lucky, sun-kissed bastard.

Bob sighed, already regretting everything about this timeline. He was never going to survive this week.

Which meant: Bob was stuck. Alone. In the lion’s den.

A.K.A. the O.X.E. Hype Unit.

(A name that should’ve been illegal. Or at least copyright-infringed.)

John Walker was also here.

And judging by the look on his face, he’s starting to deeply realize how much of a mess that the younger man dragged him into. Technically, he should've been chilling in his home and not here sweating if it weren’t for Bob eyefucking Barnes.

He was in gym clothes, arms crossed like a human barricade, radiating pure “I’d rather be deployed” energy. His jaw was tight. His expression is unreadable. The moment their eyes met, Bob felt the weight of all his poor life choices descend at once.

Because now?

Now he was a lifter.

As in: lifting a whole other adult. Into the air. On purpose. In front of witnesses.

Yelena — cheer captain, chaos incarnate, and the physical embodiment of five espresso shots — clapped her hands, sharp and decisive.

“Alright, team! Flyers to the left, lifters to the right! We’re pairing up!”

Bob already knew. Deep in his bones. In the way you know a storm’s coming before it hits.

He knew.

“Walker, you’re with Bob.”

Of course he was.

Bob looked up at John Walker — tall and built like the consequences of bad decisions. The man looked like he was about to throw Bob into the sun just for breathing.

Bob gave a weak little wave. “Hey, partner. Ready to drop someone together?”

John didn’t blink. “Don’t. Drop. Anyone.”

“Great,” Bob muttered, shoulders sagging. “You hate me again.”

Their flyer was a terrifyingly enthusiastic associate named America Chavez, who looked genuinely delighted to be launched into the air by two men with the emotional bandwidth of a dial-up modem and a power outage.

Bob crouched, trying to copy John’s form. Emphasis on trying. His hands were ready. His heart was not.

From the sidelines, Ava Starr — Yelena’s second-in-command and full-time bringer of doom — called out, “Okay, lifters! On my count! One, two, UP!”

America soared.

Bob almost blacked out.

The moment Yelena blew the whistle for a water break, John turned to him without preamble.

“Cig?”

Bob didn’t even hesitate. “Yes, please.”

By day two, Bob had made peace with the idea of public humiliation. It was part of his daily routine now — like brushing his teeth or pretending to care about team-building.

What he hadn’t made peace with?

John Walker crouching in front of him, correcting his squat form like they were back in boot camp and Bob had personally insulted the entire concept of gravity.

“You lift from your legs, not your back,” John said, voice steady, hands hovering near Bob’s knees like he was trying to will his posture into something functional. “Keep your core tight. Stabilize through the hips.”

Bob stared down at him, incredulous. “Jesus. Did you minor in cheerleading?”

Without missing a beat, John flashed him that annoyingly perfect grin. “In high school.”

Bob blinked. Because of course he did.

Before he could process that mental image — John Walker, varsity cheerleader, probably doing backflips in patriotic colors — America jogged over, radiant and bouncy and far too excited for someone voluntarily getting launched into the air.

“You guys ready to get vertical?” she chirped.

Bob muttered, “I miss my desk,” like a man remembering the safety of a past life.

By day three, Bob limped into the gym like a broken office printer someone tried to kick back to life. He was running on fumes, sheer anxiety, and a sad, dusty protein bar he’d found at the bottom of his messenger bag. Every part of him ached. His arms screamed. His back filed a formal complaint. His knee was making a noise that sounded suspiciously like betrayal.

He needed out.

Yelena stood at the front of the room like a cheerful executioner, clipboard in hand, calling out positions with the glee of someone weaponizing teamwork.

Bob shuffled up.

“Hey, Yelena. Quick thought. Radical idea,” he said, voice hoarse.

Without looking up, she replied, “If it’s about quitting, I already shredded your resignation letter.”

He blinked. “...You what?”

“It was digital,” she said sweetly. “I still shredded it.”

Bob pivoted strategies. Time for subtlety. Or, failing that, pathetic desperation.

“Okay, hear me out,” he said. “I think I’ve discovered a hidden talent for… not lifting. I’m more of a morale guy. Y’know, someone who claps off to the side? Waves a flag?”

Yelena glanced up, eyes narrowing like a cat spotting prey trying to escape under a fence.

“A flag?” she asked, unimpressed.

“Yeah. Or water bottle duty. Hydration is vital. I could be a hydration specialist.”

She stepped closer, slowly. The way predators do before they pounce.

“Bob,” she said, voice all faux sympathy. “You’re a lifter.”

“But what if — plot twist — I’m not?”

“You lifted America on your second try without dropping her.”

“And I’ve been emotionally recovering ever since.”

“You showed potential.”

“That was adrenaline and raw fear!”

Across the room, John — lounging against the wall like he hadn’t just done three flawless lifts in a row — let out a quiet grunt. Could’ve been a laugh. Could’ve been pain. Probably both.

Bob pointed at him with no shame.

“Okay, he should be lifting. I should be… like, supervising. Watching from a respectful distance.”

John didn’t even look up. “You’d supervise the air, Bob.”

“Air needs guidance too, man.”

Yelena sighed, the long-suffering kind, then patted his shoulder like she was about to send him off to war. Or at least physical therapy.

“You’re the only one with the right height and grip stability for John’s lift team,” she said. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Bob stared at her. Then at John. Then back again.

“Is this punishment for something I haven’t confessed yet?”

Yelena just smiled — the kind of smile that made Bob want to transfer departments and change his name.

“See you on the mat, Lifter #2.”

As she walked off, Bob slumped against the nearest wall and sighed to himself.

“I should’ve transferred to billing,” he muttered. “They’re refusing to lift anyone on their team. Cowards. Visionaries. My people.”

By week two of cheerdance practice, Bob had developed a new kind of muscle pain — emotional.

His back hurt. His arms ached. His dignity was somewhere under the gym bleachers, probably hiding with his will to live.

Being John Walker’s designated lift partner wasn’t a team activity. It was a spiritual trial. A daily, humbling reminder that Bob was both extremely breakable and tragically uncoordinated — a human crash test dummy in borrowed gym clothes.

Still, he showed up. Day after day.

Maybe it was spite. Maybe it was the slow descent into madness. Maybe it was the memory of Yelena’s voice echoing in his soul:

“Smile through the pain! Or I will make you!”

Either way, he endured.

But then — salvation.

The Torres family beach trip.

The long-awaited, heavily romanticized, desperately-needed family getaway was finally on the horizon. And by some actual miracle, Yelena — part-time cheer captain, full-time menace in leggings — approved his time-off request.

Officially.

Fully.

In writing.

(She even added a note: “PTO already granted from when trainee was still in shipment support. Shouldn't really escape commitments, but fine, go.”)

Clipboard in hand, grinning like a fox in charge of the henhouse, she waved him off:

“Come back twice as flexible, or I’ll stretch you myself.”

Bob didn’t ask. He just nodded. Like a man freshly pardoned moments before his execution.

His last shift before freedom was quiet. Calm. Sore.

He slumped into his cubicle like a collapsing bridge, the ache from cheer practice now just a dull, familiar hum — like office A/C or slowly building dread. His inbox was mostly clear. His mind had been reduced to a single shining word:

Beach.

He opened Slack, sent a message across the production floor where Joaquin sat with his groupmates.

Bob:

are u packed

Joaquin:

duh

Bob:

i’ve packed 5 shirts, a book i won’t read, and SPF 300

Joaquin:

and don’t forget your sunscreen hat. mi mamá keeps calling you “el vampiro blanco.”

Bob:

iconic. tell her later i said hi

Joaquin:

oh she said earlier “tell my gringuito to bring a light jacket for the breeze.”

Bob:

why is she nicer to me than u

Joaquin:

bc u look like u need it

Bob snorted mid-sip and nearly aspirated his water. Worth it.

Across the room, Alexei — the veteran employee who’d been reassigned to the other training group after Mr. Office James Dean’s schedule change (something Bob was definitely not still upset about) — called out cheerfully, “Hey, Bob! Got big weekend plans?”

At least Alexei was nice. Solid. Dependable. Loud but does not bring any harm.

Bob raised a hand lazily. “Yeah. Vacation. Beach. Sunburn. Emotional reset.”

Alexei gave him a thumbs-up. “Living the dream.”

Bob sighed and leaned back in his chair, eyes drifting toward Joaquin’s group — the casual curve of his smile, the way he gestured while talking, lit up from within by the promise of sunlight and sand.

John Walker returned from his suspiciously long bio break just in time to witness Bob and Alexei’s conversation. Coffee in hand, John slowed to a stop at their shared workstation, one brow already raised like he’d been waiting all day for the chance to judge someone.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at our cheerdance practice?” John asked, dry as the Sahara.

Bob didn’t even flinch. Just stared up at him through the squint of a man whose soul had been stretched out on a foam mat and left there to rot.

“I’ve stretched more in two weeks than I have in my entire life,” Bob replied, voice flat. “Yelena approved my absence. I earned this.”

John scoffed, taking a long sip of his drink. “You fall asleep on the beach and come back cooked like a rotisserie chicken, don’t come crying to me.”

“Cool,” Bob muttered, already pulling out his phone. “I’ll ask Joaquin to buy aloe.”

That made John pause, just a beat. “Who’s Joaquin?”

Bob didn’t even look up.

“None of your business.”

John blinked slowly, like he was running a mental diagnostic.

“You’re weird.”

Bob grinned at his monitor.

“You’ll miss me.”

John snorted, already walking off. “Absolutely won’t.”

Later that night, Bob was packed. Like really packed.

Socks? check.

SPF 300? check.

Books he would absolutely not read? double check.

Towel folding? Practiced.

Smile? Actually present.

For the first time in days, he felt something close to free. Or maybe just less doomed.

Then his phone buzzed.

FaceTime Call: Joaquin

Bob answered — and was immediately greeted by a chaotic avalanche of Torres family members, all crammed into frame like they were filming the opening credits of a sitcom.

“BOB!” Mamá Torres beamed, practically glowing. “Are you ready, mijo?!”

Bob blinked. “Oh, we’re doing this. Hi—hi, everyone! I’m packed! I brought socks! And a jacket!”

Somewhere offscreen, someone asked. “Does he know how to swim?”

Joaquin, without missing a beat. “He barely knows how to function.”

Bob raised a hand, solemn. “True. But I float really well when I dissociate.”

Laughter erupted across the call. Even Joaquin cracked a reluctant smile.

Mamá Torres leaned closer to the camera, eyes shining.

“You are ready. You are family now.”

Bob blinked — a little stunned, a little overwhelmed. But smiling.

“Okay… but someone else is dealing with sunscreen reapplication. I burn like printer paper.”

Joaquin smirked. “You’ll be fine. Just follow my lead.”

Bob groaned. “That’s what you said before cheer practice and I almost dislocated my soul.”

Bob laughed with the Torres family, his phone held at a slightly awkward angle as ten different people tried to squeeze into the frame. There was shouting. Someone had already spilled soda. Someone else was demanding music.

He half-dreaded how chaotic this beach trip was going to be.

But, against all odds—and possibly every fiber of his introvert being—he was kind of looking forward to it.

No cheer pyramids.

No live chat tickets.

No John Walker barking about core strength and making Bob question his entire musculoskeletal system.

Just a few days of sun, maybe sand, hopefully shade, and absolutely no upper body workouts.

For once—Bob felt kind of okay.

He was halfway down the driveway, bag slung over his shoulder and sunglasses already perched on his nose like a defense mechanism, when his phone buzzed.

Slack — Walker:

Don’t think this means you’re out of stunts. I’m making a list.

Bob stared at it. Sighed.

Vacation or not, peace was clearly a limited-time offer.

What he didn’t expect was being handed a beach towel with his name embroidered on it—color-coded and perfectly folded like it was prepared by a hotel concierge with a Pinterest addiction.

Joaquin’s family didn’t “go on vacation.” They deployed.

There were matching sun hats. There were spreadsheets. There was a laminated snack roster.

Bob had never seen such logistical precision outside a war movie.

Mamá Torres pressed a bottle of sunscreen into his hands like it was sacred.

“Put this on, mijo. You already look like you’re getting pink.”

Bob blinked.

“We just parked. I haven’t even sat down yet.”

Joaquin, already laying out towels in strategic angles for optimal sun protection, barely looked up.

“Yeah, but your skin is 90% glare. She’s just trying to save your life.”

Bob muttered something sarcastic under his breath as he started slathering sunscreen on like his life depended on it. (Because it did.)

Without warning, Joaquin tossed a pair of sunglasses at him.

“There. Now you look like you belong.”

Bob raised an eyebrow. Slipped them on wordlessly.

Bob finally collapsed into a beach chair beneath the blessed shade of an umbrella. His limbs went loose. His soul briefly left his body in gratitude. For a single, fleeting moment, there was quiet. No cheer. No caps lock messages from training. No—

Buzz.

His phone lit up again.

Walker.

Mr. Corporate Punisher:

Don’t forget to stretch or your spine will calcify. Enjoy the sand, sunshine, and eternal dread.

Bob groaned, flopped an arm over his face.

Vacation had begun. Barely. And already, John Walker was haunting it like a patriotic poltergeist.

Bob was elbows-deep in ceviche, basking in the kind of sun that almost made him forget how sore everything was, when his phone buzzed.

Mr. Corporate Punisher:

America just tried a triple twist dismount. Nearly kicked Kate in the face. You’re lucky you’re not here. You’d be the one catching her.

Bob stared at the message, thumb hovering. Since when did Walker text without needing a smoke or a spare pen?

Bob:

i’m literally 90 miles away eating ceviche pls don’t ruin this

Mr. Corporate Punisher:

Just updating you. You’re still a lifter when you come back.

Bob:

ok narc

A pause.

Mr. Corporate Punisher:

Did you bring aloe?

Bob:

yes.

Bob sighed. Flipped his phone face down. Tried to let the sound of waves drown out the creeping anxiety of imaginary shoulder dislocations.

The Torres cousins were knee-deep in a wildly competitive volleyball game. Bob, meanwhile, was under a floral umbrella wearing an aggressively large sun hat that absolutely did not belong to him.

Mamá Torres was beaming when she saw Bob. “You look like a fancy señora, Bobito!”

“Gracias, Mamá T.” Bob shyly responded.

Buzz.

Mr. Corporate Punisher:

Yelena made us run a pyramid sequence five times. Kate sprained something. America is fine. Too fine. Suspiciously fine.

Bob snorted into his coconut water.

Bob:

u say that like she’s not human

Mr. Corporate Punisher:

Jury’s out.

By nighttime, Bob was cocooned in a hoodie by the fire, marshmallow stick in one hand, and the kind of calm he hadn’t felt since before Yelena dragged him into whatever this extracurricular fever dream was.

Then—buzz.

Mr. Corporate Punisher:

You’d have dropped her. Just saying.

Bob:

it’s literally been 8 hours

Mr. Corporate Punisher:

Still relevant.

Bob:

go touch grass

Mr. Corporate Punisher:

Touching mats. We need to work on your core when you get back.

Bob stared into the fire, briefly considered throwing his phone in it.

Then typed:

Bob:

ur literally texting me while i’m on PTO

Mr. Corporate Punisher:

PTO isn’t forever. Neither is stability.

Bob:

did u just threaten me with gravity

Mr. Corporate Punisher:

See you on Monday.

Bob sighed and dropped his phone into his beach bag like it had personally betrayed him.

“Walker again?” Joaquin asked, approaching with two drinks and an arched brow that said he already knew the answer.

Bob didn't even look up. “He’s like a push notification from guilt itself.”

Joaquin grinned, far too pleased with himself. “You like the attention.”

Bob refused to dignify that with a response. Not out loud, anyway. He took a slow sip from his coconut drink and looked out at the ocean like it might offer him absolution.

(He wasn’t about to admit that Joaquin might be right.)

The second day on the beach was brighter—blinding, really. The kind of bright that made everything feel just a little surreal. The music was louder, the waves rowdier, and Bob had never felt more aggressively horizontal in his entire adult life.

Sprawled beneath a generously large umbrella, Bob looked less like someone on vacation and more like a vampire in witness protection. Long-sleeved rash guard. Oversized sunglasses. A ridiculous but effective sunhat that Mamá Torres had insisted he wear.

He was actively dissociating from all known responsibilities. Cheerdance practice? Never heard of her. Chat support tickets? Gone. John Walker yelling about core stability? Not real. Coconut drink in one hand, tamales within reach, and not a pyramid formation in sight.

This… was peace.

Temporary, fragile, beach-scented peace.

And Bob planned to cling to it for dear life.

Bliss.

Buzz.

Mr. Corporate Punisher:

Kate got her shoelace caught in the mat again. America almost kicked the speaker off the wall. Yelena is wearing glitter war paint.

Bob blinked. Then grinned.

Bob:

are y’all practicing cheer or recreating the hunger games

Mr. Corporate Punisher:

Morale is low. Injuries are… pending. You're missing this.

Bob:

i’m missing trauma. currently surrounded by sunscreen and tamales. stay safe out there soldier.

Bob had just finished applying his third coat of sunscreen like a man trying to ward off demonic possession when his phone buzzed again.

Mr. Corporate Punisher:

Image attached.

He opened it. Laughed so hard he nearly dropped his coconut.

The photo was the embodiment of gym chaos:

John dead-center, expression blank, taking a selfie with the weariness of a man who knew OSHA wasn’t coming. Kate tangled in a web of resistance bands like a trapped woodland creature. America mid-cartwheel, possibly by accident. Yelena with one foot on a tower of mats, yelling something warlike with glitter smeared like battle stripes. Ava, off to the side, pretending she wasn’t smiling. Peter, on the floor, eyes glazed over like a man rethinking every life choice. (Yelena had definitely tricked him into joining.)

Bob:

u look like a PE teacher at the end of his rope is that kate or a spider caught in a trap

Mr. Corporate Punisher:

Blinked for five seconds. Yelena took over. We’re doing pyramids again.

Bob:

rip to everyone tell kate to accept her fate tell yelena to stop trying to summon the cheer gods with glitter

Bob was curled up in a borrowed hoodie, toes buried in warm sand, gaze soft as he half-watched Joaquin’s younger cousins chasing fireflies under a bruised-blue sky. The ocean sang quietly in the distance, waves and laughter mingling into a kind of lullaby, and for once—for once—Bob felt like the anxiety had been coaxed out of his chest and replaced with something lighter. Not quite peace. But close enough.

He opened his phone. Casually. Dangerously.

Typed:

Bob:

so how bad did it get after i left still upright or did y’all summon satan with a backflip

He expected chaos. A sprained ankle. A mat on fire. Kate suspended in mid-air, probably yelling.

What he got instead was…

Mr. Corporate Punisher:

Image attached. Caption: Stability check.

Bob opened it.

And froze.

It was John.

In the gym.

Wearing a tank top.

Sweaty. Flushed. Eyes intense. Muscles doing things muscles had no right to do unless sculpted by divine spite or a vengeful physical therapist. His arms were absolutely, devastatingly there.

Bob’s brain promptly blue-screened.

He blinked. Once. Twice. Still there.

“…Oh no,” he whispered into the night.

Joaquin, who had returned with marshmallows and impeccable timing, leaned over. “What?”

Bob tilted the phone screen toward him like it was cursed. Like it could bite.

Joaquin blinked. “Whoa. That’s… a lot of arm.”

“I meant ‘any updates from cheer practice,’” Bob said, voice flat. “And this man gave me biceps.”

Joaquin grinned. “Is it a form check… or a thirst trap?”

Bob stared, stricken. Whispered: “What if it’s both?”

Panic brewing, Bob reluctantly typed back:

Bob:

i meant cheerdance update but cool arms. i guess.

A pause.

Then—

Mr. Corporate Punisher:

You’ll need arms too. Practice when you’re back.

Bob let out a groan that died heroically into his beach towel.

“I hate that I find this emotionally constipated gym ghost' pic hot.”

Joaquin, entirely unsympathetic: “We all make mistakes.”

Bob was not supposed to be drunk.

He was supposed to have one drink—two, if tempted—and then sit back with the dignity of a man wrapped in a beach hoodie, watching Joaquin’s cousins make questionable dance choices from afar.

But then the tequila happened.

And the bartender poured like he was trying to exorcise a demon.

And suddenly, Bob’s memory of making good decisions dissolved in lime juice.

What followed was chaos. Bars. Music. Someone salsa dancing in Crocs. Bob is trying to speak Spanish with what might have been an Italian accent.

And then—social media.

Bob didn’t do thirst traps.

Bob didn’t post selfies.

Bob didn’t film videos where he looked like someone’s bisexual awakening.

And yet.

Tonight, he discovered the Instagram “Story” feature like it was a brand-new religion.

He posted:

A blurry, flushed-cheeked selfie: "who let me be this fine???™️" A ten-second clip of him dancing, hips moving with suspicious confidence. A photo of him and Joaquin, laughing mid-drink, pressed close, heads tilted together like a fanfic slow burn about to combust.

The DMs came in fast:

“IS THIS A SOFT LAUNCH??” “BOYFRIEND REVEAL??” “👀👀👀”

In Bob’s defense, he hadn’t meant to direct-message his lift partner a thirst trap.

He’d meant to post it to his story. A casual, temporary bit of vanity. The kind that disappears in twenty-four hours and lives only in the fleeting shame of public exposure.

But no.

His tequila-soaked brain, drunk on salsa music and poor decisions and John’s impeccable timing in replying to his story with “That beach sun really working you over, huh. Or is it the boyfriend that’s got your eyes doing that sparkle thing?”, had betrayed him.

Instead of the “add to story” button, Bob’s thumb had found “send to”—and then, like fate had it out for him personally, he’d hit the first person on the list. John Walker. One (1) recipient. No take-backs.

And now?

Now the picture—that picture—was sitting in John’s inbox. Just for him.

Bob stared at the screen in horror.

The image stared back.

Neon lighting casting him in moody shadows, jaw clenched just enough to look sharp. His curls damp with sweat. His shirt completely unbuttoned, collarbones visible like a siren call. Tongue pressed lazily to the top of his lip. Smile low, eyes darker than usual.

It wasn’t a joke. It wasn’t subtle. It was a textbook thirst trap.

And now John had it. Privately.

Only John.

Bob’s soul left his body. Just straight-up evacuated. No forwarding address.

“…Oh no,” he whispered into the void, like he could summon a time machine with enough regret.

Mr. Corporate Punisher:

Did you just send me your OnlyFans promo Should I be tipping

The world stopped turning.

Bob stared at the screen like it had personally betrayed him.

“…Oh my god,” he whispered.

Joaquin, mid-sip: “What?”

Bob, horrified, held out his phone.

Joaquin read it. And immediately wheezed, choking on his drink.

“Oh boy. You’re on a winning streak tonight.”

“I was gonna post it to Stories!” Bob cried, burying his face in his hands. “It was supposed to disappear in 24 hours! It was supposed to be an impersonal embarrassment! Not—personal thirst trap!”

“You just gave him front-row seats to the concert,” Joaquin said, wiping tears from his eyes. “VIP access. Backstage pass.”

Bob let out a strangled sound into a napkin. He did not reply to the message.

He couldn’t reply.

He watched the typing bubble appear… disappear… come back again.

Panic.

Flight. Fight. Bob chose to shut down and run. His favorite coping mechanism since middle school.

He shoved his phone into Joaquin’s pocket and slumped into the booth seat, hiding his face in his palms.

“Tell no one,” he muttered.

“Too late,” Joaquin said. “This is going in the scrapbook.”

Bob groaned louder.

God help him when cheer practice resumed.

Bob woke up to the sun stabbing him directly in the eyeballs, like it held a personal grudge.

His throat was dry. His skull felt like a crime scene. And for a few glorious, delusional seconds, he was just a man with a hangover.

Then—

Memory: unlocked.

The thirst trap.

John’s reply.

Bob sat bolt upright like he’d just remembered a final exam he’d never attended. “Shit. SHIT. I SENT THAT TO HIM.”

Across the room, still swaddled in a blanket like a sentient burrito, Joaquin cracked one bloodshot eye open. “You sure did. You screamed into a couch cushion for fifteen minutes and tried to crawl under the coffee table. We had to pour water on you.”

Bob clutched his temples. “I thought that was a nightmare.”

“It was,” Joaquin said cheerfully. “Just also real.”

Bob reopened the messages. Made a noise so pained it could only be described as a dying animal. Then promptly turned off read receipts and lay flat on the bed, staring at the ceiling like it held answers to the mysteries of life.

Later that night, Joaquin walked into the guest room like he was entering a hostage negotiation. He held out a plate of food like it was peace.

“You’re still ignoring him?”

Bob didn’t move. “If I don’t reply, it didn’t happen.”

“That’s not how the world works.”

“It’s how my world works.”

Joaquin settled on the edge of the bed. “Do you want him to stop texting you?”

“No.”

“...Do you not want him to?”

Bob let out a strangled noise. “I don’t know! Maybe I want him to keep texting me until I’m not mortified anymore. Or maybe I want him to delete the photo and fall into a pothole. I contain multitudes.”

Joaquin grinned. “You’re a mess.”

“I just—” Bob groaned, pressing his face into a throw pillow. “I just like the attention.”

Twenty-four hours post-thirst trap. Bob had maintained radio silence, convinced that if he ghosted hard enough, the embarrassment would collapse in on itself and die.

Walker, unfortunately, was persistent.

Or possibly just deeply annoying.

Mr. Corporate Punisher:

You ever been to a salsa class, Bobby?

Bob blinked at his screen. What?

Mr. Corporate Punisher:

Asking for science Also asking for your hips Hypothetically

Bob stared at his phone like it had grown a second screen. “What does that mean?!”

He began pacing Joaquin’s room like the floor might provide answers.

“I think he’s flirting with me.”

Joaquin, sipping iced coffee from the comfort of bed, didn’t even look surprised. “You sent him a thirst trap. I feel like the ambiguity train left the station, crashed, and caught fire.”

“But what if he’s just like this?” Bob hissed. “What if I assume and he’s just naturally insane and now I look—” He made a vague hand gesture, “—unhinged.”

“You already look unhinged,” Joaquin said mildly. “Lean in.”

Bob groaned, flopping onto the floor like a Victorian widow overcome with scandal.

Buzz.

Mr. Corporate Punisher:

Just saw a duck at the gym Thought of you Very round Very angry

Bob was staring at his screen, “WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?!”

Mr. Corporate Punisher:

I miss seeing you mad You text like you’re about to throw a chair It’s adorable

Bob launched a pillow across the room in retaliation. “IS THIS FLIRTING OR IS THIS EMOTIONAL TERRORISM?!”

Joaquin: “Why not both?”

Mr. Corporate Punisher:

I’m thinking of shaving my beard Opinions? Yours only Lemar said I’d look like a different person Also send mirror selfies back so this exchange is fair

Bob responded by turning off his phone like it had committed a crime and curling deeper into the guest bed.

The Torres house was alive again—cousins yelling, music spilling from the speakers, someone definitely mixing drinks too early in the day.

Bob stayed in the bedroom, doom-scrolling and sulking.

Continously checking his new ig story— this one is much more decent than the other night: just him standing on the beach, still shirtless, but location appropriate.

Mr. Corporate Punisher:

Beach looks nice You look nice too Not like “you” nice, I meant the “vibe” Not that you’re not nice Anyway I miss your chaos. Practice is getting boring without your chaos.

Bob frowned. “What…?”

Joaquin, now lying on the floor with a bag of chips on his chest: “It means you’re his favorite emotionally confusing circus act.”

Bob threw another pillow. “Shut up. He’s like this with everyone.”

“He’s really not.”

Bob ignored him. Opened one last message:

Mr. Corporate Punisher:

also when you come back, I’m dragging you to gym day prepare those biceps or whatever

Bob stared at the screen like it held the final boss of emotional turmoil. His biceps, his texts, his entire existence was now a hot, confused mess.

He had no idea what any of it meant.

But he was starting to think—just maybe—Walker did.

Bob muttered, “He didn’t even ask how my day was. Just gym stuff. Bros being bros.”

Across the room, Joaquin slowly sat up like a man preparing for war. “Okay. I didn’t want to do this, but it’s time to gently euthanize your delusion.”

Bob squinted. “What delusion.”

Joaquin grabbed the chips, popped one in his mouth, and said—casually, like he wasn’t about to detonate Bob’s frontal lobe—“heard this from the other tenures conversation. John just went through a breakup with his girlfriend. Like two weeks before our training started. Long-term. Messy. He’s still trying to win her back.”

Silence. Immediate. Complete. Like someone hit pause on Bob’s entire nervous system.

Then, expression unreadable, Bob handed Joaquin the chips and said flatly, “Cool. That makes everything easier.”

“…Easier?” Joaquin asked.

“Yeah.” Bob stood up and stretched, like his spine hadn’t just snapped in half. “So he’s just being friendly. Classic John. Chaotic, bored, straight.”

“That’s not what I—”

“Anyway,” Bob cut in, grabbing his phone, “I should probably reply. Wouldn’t want to be rude.”

Later that night, after a chaotic round of karaoke in the living room, Bob lay on his back in bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling fan, phone glowing beside him.

Another message from John.

Mirror selfie. Gym again. Gray tank top soaked through, hair damp, smirk sitting somewhere just south of flirtation.

Bob didn’t let himself feel anything.

He typed:

put on a shirt you animal

No emoji. Light tone. Harmless. A joke between bros.

He muted the chat again. Just in case.

The next morning, Bob let himself be dragged to brunch. He laughed at cousin jokes, let Joaquin tease him, smiled through everything like it didn’t sting.

Every time John texted—something flirty, weird, or just plain him—Bob told himself one thing:

It doesn’t mean anything.

And if John noticed the change—shorter replies, cooler tone, no more emojis, no more inside jokes—he didn’t say a word.

Bob didn’t ask for clarity.

He didn’t want clarity.

Clarity meant hearing something he couldn’t unhear. Clarity meant getting hurt with proof.

This way, he got to stay in the safe in-between.

Bob walked into the office like a man walking into his own trial.

Sun-bleached hair, slightly too-crisp shirt, and emotional detachment barely holding.

Two seconds of silence.

Then—

“Hey, superstar!” someone shouted.

Bob winced.

Kate and Peter—his fellow newbies—looked far too excited. (The third newbie was still too busy trying to impress Yelena to have time for group bonding.)

“You’re finally back!” Peter grinned, already pulling something up on his phone.

“You should’ve warned us you were about to go viral in the newbies group chat,” Kate said.

“What,” Bob said flatly.

Peter held out his phone. On the screen: his very drunk IG story, frozen at the precise frame where Bob mid-danced, shirt half unbuttoned, club lights and chaos all around.

Bob made a strangled noise. “How did you—”

“I saved it,” Kate said brightly. “For evidence.”

“Evidence of what?!”

“That you’re a bad bitch when drunk,” she said. “It’s iconic. You should lead warm-ups. Shirtless.”

Bob was too busy mentally erasing his digital footprint to respond.

At practice, the chaos only got worse.

The moment he walked in, the team broke into slow, mocking claps.

“Look who’s back from his national tour!”

“Mr. Viral enters the chat!”

“Did the pole survive, legend?”

Bob groaned into his hands. “This is bullying.”

“Public content is public domain,” America said, winking.

“I was drunk,” Bob gritted.

“We know,” replied half the team.

And then—

“So… is Joaquin your boyfriend now, or just your favorite dance partner?”

That one hit.

Bob paused, then shrugged like he didn’t feel it. “We're just bestfriends. That’s literally it.”

“Oh?” Cue the giggles.

Bob glanced at Joaquin—who was watching from the bleachers like he had VIP tickets to Bob’s humiliation. He offered a lazy salute and a traitor’s smile.

Bob considered quitting the team.

(Yelena would never allow it.)

Or dying.

(That option was more appealing.)

John didn’t say anything. Just watched. Quietly.

By the time Bob was back at work, the teasing hadn’t died. It had evolved.

A few fellow newbies passed his desk with raised eyebrows.

Someone coughed “party boy” under their breath.

Bob nearly threw a stapler.

Even Alexei chimed in with a smirk: “Hope your liver survived PTO.”

Bob laughed. Barely. “Yeah. Just barely.”

He didn’t check his phone for the rest of the shift.

Not even when it buzzed.

Twice.

The message still sat in Bob’s inbox, unread but seared into his brain:

Mr. Corporate Punisher:

survived practice or did the tanline distraction cause casualties?

He hadn’t replied.

Wasn’t planning to.

Didn’t want to play the game anymore.

And yet, later that day, standing alone in the breakroom while his lunch spun in the microwave, Bob caught himself thinking of a witty comeback.

He didn’t send one.

But he thought of one.

The day before the cheerdance competition was always going to be chaotic.

But this? This was nuclear-grade.

Between the rhinestone glue shortage, the cowboy-themed routine, and the inexplicably missing pom props, the gym felt less like a practice space and more like the site of a slow-building disaster.

Yelena, clipboard trembling in hand, looked moments away from launching it at someone’s head.

“We still don’t have glitter body spray, the false lashes, extra ankle wraps, and the pom props are short by four,” she hissed during water break, visibly vibrating. Ava was there beside her trying to calm her down.

Bob, who had been lurking quietly near the water cooler, felt his brain switch to autopilot. His need to soothe authority figures overrode all sense of self-preservation.

“I can grab them after practice,” he offered too quickly.

Yelena blinked. “Seriously? You’re sure?”

Bob forced a smile. “Yup. I got it.” Regret began immediately.

The truth was, Bob had been pulling back lately. From all of it — but especially from John.

He’d grown used to keeping his answers clipped during their post-practice smokes, responding only when spoken to, pretending to check his phone or feigning exhaustion. During drills, he gravitated to the opposite end of the mat whenever John showed up, acting like the guy was just another teammate. Like John didn’t talk to him like that. Like John’s laugh didn’t short-circuit Bob’s frontal lobe. Like Bob hadn’t caught himself lingering too long on a certain gym selfie.

It was safer this way. Cleaner.

So of course, the universe decided to shove them into a two-person errand run from hell.

After practice, still damp with sweat and dragging his feet outside the locker room, Bob reread the list for the third time like it might shrink on its own.

“Body glitter, rhinestone glue, lash kits, sweat-proof makeup, kinesiology tape, silver pompoms…” He sighed. “I’ve made a very big mistake.”

Behind him, John groaned loudly. “I feel like a microwaved potato. I need a shower so bad.”

Bob didn’t respond.

John leaned in anyway, peering at the list over Bob’s shoulder like boundaries weren’t a thing. “I’ll come with you.”

Bob blinked. “You just said you want to go home and shower.”

“Exactly.” John slung his gym bag over one shoulder. “We’ll stop by my place, I’ll rinse off, then we’ll hit the mall. I’ve got a car. You’ve got a death wish if you think you can carry all that on the bus.”

Bob stared. “Are you trying to trap me into owing you a favor?”

John winked. “Too late.”

Ten minutes into the drive, Bob squinted suspiciously at the route.

“You’re taking this way?”

“Yup,” John replied, drumming the steering wheel. “Traffic’s lighter. Plus… I live right around the corner.”

Bob frowned. “Around which corner?”

John smirked as he pulled into a driveway. “This one.”

Bob stared. “You live here?!”

“Yeah, why?”

“My building is literally on the next street.”

John let out a bark of laughter. “You mean I could’ve been stealing food from you this entire time?”

“You found out today.”

“And that won’t stop me.”

John’s house was exactly what Bob expected: pristine, quiet, and smelling like laundry detergent with a tax bracket. Bob sat awkwardly on the living room couch while John showered upstairs, alone in a house that belonged to vacationing parents and a younger sister who probably owned nicer shoes than Bob ever would.

“They didn’t even invite me to join them,” John had said with a shrug. “They know I’ve got work. Honestly? I win.”

Twenty minutes later, John came downstairs — fresh shirt, hair still wet, smelling annoyingly expensive — and Bob pretended not to notice.

The mall trip was pure punishment.

Somewhere between the craft aisle and the beauty kiosk, Bob felt his soul leave his body. John, meanwhile, acted like they were starring in a low-budget buddy comedy.

“These lashes say ‘competition,’” John declared, holding up one pair, “but these say ‘drag brunch in Vegas.’ Thoughts?”

Bob, dead-eyed, replied, “Whichever is cheaper.”

In skincare, John waggled a tub of body glitter at him. “This looks like something you’d wear if you were trying to get laid.”

Bob didn’t flinch. “If I were trying to get laid, I’d be wearing nothing.”

John snorted. “Bob.”

“What?”

“You can’t say that with a straight face. That’s my job.”

“Then stop handing me straight lines.”

By checkout, their cart was overflowing, Bob’s shoulders were aching, and John was still casually tossing flirty comments and dirty jokes like it was part of the warm-up routine.

Bob had no idea what any of it meant anymore.

When they pulled up outside Bob’s building, night already draped over the sky, John turned to him and said, “Want me to swing by your place and judge your fridge?”

Bob narrowed his eyes. “You just want free food.”

John grinned. “And validation.”

Bob rolled his eyes. “Go home, Walker.”

John raised his hands in mock surrender.

Bob climbed out with the bags, hesitated. “Thanks. For earlier.”

John nodded. “Anytime.”

Then, too casual, he added, “Oh — that thirst trap? Convincing. Don’t worry. I won’t bring it up.”

Bob froze. Opened his mouth. Closed it.

But John had already driven off.

It’s already 12:47 AM when Bob was able to complete his night routine. He already had his dinner and now he just came out from the shower and yet his brain is still running in circles.

It doesn’t mean anything. He’s just like that. He’s straight. He’s bored. He’s like this with everyone. …Right?

Bob turned over for the umpteenth time, still replaying every line from the mall trip like he could find a secret message buried under the jokes.

It wasn’t flirting, he told himself. Not if it happened next to a tub of glitter and a clearance-sale lash kit.

He groaned into his pillow.

No HR policy on Earth covered this.

At 5:03 a.m., Bob zipped his duffle shut for the fifth time. Checked the list again. Glitter spray? Packed. Tape? Packed. Emotional stability? Questionable.

His reflection in the mirror was peak rodeo disaster: orange neckerchief, fringe vest, denim everywhere. The outfit of a man trapped in a yeehaw-themed fever dream.

At least it’s not spreadsheets, he told himself. One last day of this cowboy shenanigans, then he could hang up the cowboy hat forever.

His phone buzzed.

Mr. Corporate Punisher:

Outside. Don’t make me honk. Your neighbors might hate me.

Bob frowned. He hadn’t asked for a ride. Everyone was supposed to meet at the office.

Still, when he opened the door — there John was. Car idling at the curb. Music low. Cowboy hat crooked, vest half-on, like he’d just rolled out of bed and into aesthetic perfection.

“I didn’t ask for a ride.”

“Figured I’d pick you up,” John said. “You’re on the way. Sorta.”

“This street is not on the way.”

John shrugged. “Felt like it.”

Bob climbed in.

He didn’t try to figure it out anymore.

“Nice hat,” he muttered.

John smirked. “Gonna toss it into the crowd after we win. Like a cowboy bouquet.”

“You’re deeply unwell.”

“And you like it,” John said lightly, tapping the wheel.

Bob ignored him, rolled the window down. Let the morning air wash over him.

The drive was quiet, music humming low — a strange mix of indie pop and yeehaw remixes.

Halfway there, John asked, “You nervous?”

Bob exhaled. “We’ve tanked so many rehearsals, I think I’ve transcended fear. My soul is hovering somewhere above the stadium.”

“Hot. Emotional numbness suits you.”

Bob gave him a look. “I hope you trip mid-kick and eat mat.”

John’s laugh echoed through the car — bright, reckless, familiar.

And just for a second, Bob forgot the chaos ahead. Forgot the tangled mess of rules and flirtation and maybes that kept looping in his head.

At least he wasn’t facing it alone.

End of Chapter 2.

────୨ৎ────

Author's Note: Go off Bob, our disorganized attachment style king. ✨️

Add yourself to my taglist! <3

#sentryagent #bobwalker #voidwalker #bob reynolds x john walker #bob reynolds #john walker #bobjohn #sentryagent smut #smut #bob reynolds smut #john walker smut #thunderbolts fanfic #thunderbolts bob #thunderbolts imagine #bob thunderbolts #thunderbolts fanfiction #robert reynolds fanfic #john walker fanfic

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magalidragon · 10 months ago

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priceless | chapter 2: sunken ships

OMG this fic is over two years old and I finally updated it 🤗 it’s got another chapter because I can’t stop myself when writing but the third chapter is almost done and will post soon. Enjoy this forgotten WIP!

It was time to leave.

If not because she was getting nervous each time Daario Naharis eyed her up and down, making her skin crawl in that way only someone feeling under threat could understand, their sixth sense of protection kicking in, then because of the other part of her sixth sense warning her to protect herself.

Protect herself from Jon.

And the emotions that came up and threatened to overtake her whenever he wandered into her presence.

She lay awake in her bed, staring at the ceiling of the stateroom, the yacht so stable in the water you could hardly feel the vibration of the engine. However, she'd spent most of her life on, in, or near the water, and like the air she breathed, it kept her alive and she could sense any disturbance. Usually that was a good thing, it lended itself to some of the best sleep she'd ever had, just sitting on the water, bobbing along.

Tonight though that stillness was why she hadn't been able to sleep.

She kept having a dream, one of the water, of the coral and the sand, drifting through her fingers with every lift of her hand. She wasn't <i>her</i> though, but someone-- something-- else. It consumed her, threatened to drown her, and she kept waking up just when she thought she knew what she was looking for in the dream. Just when she thought she found the meaning of it all.

Like why she was here with Jon.

Like why he'd called her, after all they'd been through. It wasn't just the treasure or the connection to Rhaegar. It was something else.

It bothered her, gnawing in her belly, and she closed her eyes tight, turning to her side, trying to get rid of....everything. All the <i>feelings</i> confusing as they were. It would just be easier to think of him as her first love and he got away. They were stupid, young, traumatized by Rhaegar's passing. It was too much for any one to handle, let alone two people with their weight of emotional baggage.

They could move beyond it, finally move on to live the rest of their lives instead of drifting into each other's current again. She needed to leave before she collided with him again and she wouldn't be able to get out, before everything sank and she drowned.

#jonerys #jonerys au #my fics #my moodboards #jonerys fanfic #a two year old WIP finally updated!#and with an extra chapter to be added later #story of my life

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e-vasong · 11 months ago

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#so sorry to all the people who voted for longer chapter later #the good news?#you still won because i literally added 1k of extra content for flow and character purposes #so ur getting a 6.5k chapter on tuesday rather than a 7k chapter on saturday. YAY

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7-deadly-cats · 3 days ago

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killing me softly | 21

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

✿ G E N R E ✿ she fell first, he fell harder | slice of life | drama

✿ P A I R I N G ✿ s1!rafe cameron x overthinking!reader (f)

✿ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ✿ swearing, suggestive language & themes, mildly jealous!reader, possessive!rafe, silly!rafe, reader having a heart attack at the end (not literal, tho... maybe), cliffhanger bc i wanna keep things open for how i'm gonna handle the situation

✿ S U M M A R Y O F L A S T P A R T ✿ molly got added to the girls' group chat, and while you and rafe stayed curled up watching transformers, she kept the others updated about the two of you. the girls also ended up talking about rafe leaving earlier, and pretty quickly decided it probably had something to do with ruthie. you and rafe stayed cuddled the whole movie. you suggested filling topper and kelce in on everything but you weren’t gonna tell anyone anything he didn’t want shared. he also apologized for grabbing your wrist earlier, clearly feeling bad about how he handled it. you both added each other on TrackerBuddies, the little friendship tracker app. after the movie, you rejoined the others (minus the pogues). rafe openly admitted he regretted punching topper. when cara brought up ruthie, rafe shut her down fast. not long after, sarah called cara, asking to come join you guys. you asked rafe to dip with you. as you took an uber to your place, he grabbed your dad’s corvette, and the two of you headed out for another one of those sweet late-night drives. (18+ extra summarized) rafe missed you a lot back at home and tried feeling close to you by having a little solo session. afterward, he regretted it and also came to the realization this pull toward you was more than just a sexual need.

✿ W O R D C O U N T ✿ 10k+

✿ A / N ✿ probably one of my weakest chapters yet in comparison to the previous bangers. i also feel like it's 80% dialogue but i just have way too much fun w it and yeah. PLUS not sure if i’m jumping around too much but i really wanted to squeeze all the important scenes in. hope you guys enjoy anyway and pls lmk your thoughts <3 xx ᓚᘏᗢ

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

for those who skipped the extra including the aftermath of the open-air event, please go back and read it as i've decided to promote it to a main chapter as it contains way too essential info and changes in dynamics. -> Chapter 20 (former extra)

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

also just to be safe: avoid the comment section until you’re finished

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W E E K T W O // M O N D A Y 6 : 4 2 A M

One week ago, your whole life had been turned upside down.

Because exactly one week ago, on a seemingly uneventful Monday, your art teacher had decided to put you and Rafe Cameron together into a group for a two-week-long project.

And exactly one week ago, you'd thought this would be the end of you.

You remembered how he’d approached you after class, that unbothered expression on his face, not even properly looking at you, as he asked you to "just get this project over with" during lunch.

God, you remembered how you'd panicked afterward, how clammy your hands had gotten at the mere thought of working—no, TALKING—to Rafe. How Molly had found you pale as hell in the girls' restroom, how you'd freaked out while waiting for him in front of the gym.

You two had been classmates, project partners, no, actually, total strangers thrown together by some twisted coincidence named Arthur Smith, who wore washed-out art smocks and hair like a bomb had exploded in his face.

And now, exactly one week later, on yet another seemingly uneventful Monday, you could call yourself Rafe’s friend.

You couldn't even begin to describe how crazy, insane, downright batshit surreal that felt. Especially considering he’d been your crush for the past few years and now, within just one week, you’d gotten so close that you EVEN FUCKING CUDDLED LAST NIGHT LIKE WHAT.

HOW.

WHAT. HOW WAS THAT EVEN—like, you didn’t know what parallel universe you’d entered last Monday but LET’S FUCKING GOOOOO.

GOOOOSH, JUST THINKING ABOUT LAST NIGHT MADE YOUR HEART THUNDER LIKE CRAZY IN YOUR CHEST.

Starting from him being such a sweet gentleman, paying for your stuff, to you first sitting on the lounge bed and then scooting closer to warm each other up (after he’d had a boner but let’s never think about that again), and how sweet and relaxed he’d seemed, just for Ruthie to ruin your little cozy bonding moment with her fucked up bullshit game.

Oh, how badly you’d wanted to find that bitch after your argument with Rafe in the parking lot and slap that stupid grin right off her face. Sure, violence was never the answer, but this bitch? She could catch hands for playing him like that.

Really quite a weird coincidence though, that she’d been nowhere to be found at the event site after she’d talked to Rafe.

You’d found out through the girlies' group chat that she’d left in the middle of Barbie and had never come back. Gracie and Samantha had followed her shortly after.

As soon as Rafe had dropped you off at home, you’d gone straight to bed and scrolled through the dozens of messages in the girlies' group chat, aka them commenting on you and Rafe while trying to solve the mystery of why he’d left you behind.

And funny enough, they’d actually kinda solved it. But you hadn’t commented on anything because Rafe had made it very clear he didn’t want anyone getting involved.

Also, not them playing fucking Sherlock Holmes and talking about you and Rafe as if you weren’t in the group chat. Like, girls, come on, at least make a secret chat for that, geez.

You’d giggled nonetheless. Happy that Molly was now in the group too and also touched by how much they were cheering you and Rafe on.

Anyway, Ruthie being the reason two poor souls had to spend half the night alone? Fucking bitch.

And that just made you feel even worse about being annoyed with Topper last night. He’d probably felt just as awful as you had ughhhh.

Though, you had absolutely zero energy to spiral over how he might’ve felt because—BECAUSE—

Because Rafe.

YEAH RAFE.

Rafe who’d placed his fucking hand just inches away from your butt when he'd nudged you forward, both when leading you back inside the venue AND when you'd left. Like, okay, it was still just your lower back but from a different angle, that was just inches from your butt.

HAHAHAHAH the butterflies in your stomach had been already screaming like crazy and ripping each other’s wings off from panic and excitement, but no, this guy had taken it one step further.

Him. Always by your side. Like. The whole night.

Always close to you in some kind of way.

Not pushy, not clingy, or in any way uncomfortable. No, it felt more like he wanted to be near you, to feel the comfort of your presence, to reassure himself that you really weren’t leaving. Maybe grounding himself after being so shaken earlier.

So, when you two had settled back in on the lounge bed (ignoring Kelce’s and Molly’s surprised, smiley glances), he’d pulled you right back under the blanket. Held it open for you to scoot closer, and when you’d hesitated to cozy back up to him, he gave you this look with his big blue eyes—equal parts amusement and confusion—and said, “Don’t you dare be shy with me now.”

Yeah.

You kinda died in that moment. He'd looked genuinely afraid you might be scared of cuddling with him again, when in reality you just didn’t want to overstimulate him or crowd him after his crashout, especially considering he’d still been a bit jittery from the coke in his system.

Somehow, that restlessness faded fast once you cozied back up to him, his arm instantly wrapping around your waist as you settled back on his chest, your hand resting on his stomach. He even picked up where he’d left off, playing with the charms dangling from your bracelet—a gesture that somehow grounded both of you.

And in that very moment, you let yourself accept the fact that Rafe liked you.

He liked being around you, liked hanging out with you, and he also seemed to like the way you handled him and his little crashout moments. Because if he didn’t, he would’ve dipped after your argument. He wouldn’t have begged you to stay and apologized. And he definitely wouldn’t have spent the rest of the night by your side AND LEFT TOGETHER WITH YOU.

Of course, deep down, in some very dark and twisted corner of your brain, there was still that fear that he only liked the feeling you gave him. That he just liked that you stuck around. That he enjoyed the idea of having some girl around. Or worse—that he was doing all this for the project. That he was only keeping you around so you’d carry him through it, boost his GPA, and then drop you the second he got what he wanted.

But those thoughts felt so absurd, so ridiculous, you were ashamed to even think them, ashamed they even surfaced for a second. Especially after Rafe had opened up to you like that, gotten emotional and vulnerable, showing a side of himself you didn’t even think Topper or Kelce had ever seen.

Nah, fuck those thoughts.

Fuck that little asshole minion in your head that even dared to speak them out loud. Yeah, mentally, you kicked that little guy’s ass.

Better.

AHDHEKJEKW you couldn’t stop grinning to yourself as you packed your bag for school, thinking about how sweet he’d been after the movie.

Sliding right next to you on the bench at the bar, KNEES TOUCHING AND HIM FUCKING PLAYING WITH THE FABRIC OF YOUR DRESS AT YOUR SHOULDER LIKE JESUS YOU HAD LITERAL GOOSEBUMPS FROM THAT.

And oh my god—him helping you into your jacket in the parking lot after you'd left the venue, complimenting your dress again followed by a dumbass comment (“You sure you not into hookups? Shit, aight, sorry, don’t look at me like that”), which you THANKFULLY hadn’t spiraled over because somehow you’d accepted that flirty, suggestive comments were just part of the Rafe Cameron starter pack.

And also, YOU KINDA LIKED HEARING HIM SAY STUFF LIKE THAT HIHIHIHHI.

Because the fact that he found you attractive, even being down to sleep with you, and showered you with comments like that... yeah, that DID something to you. Huge ego and confidence boost and let’s just say it stirred another part of you as well.

While lying on Rafe, you felt that tingling sensation surging through your whole body, a buzzing warmth low in your stomach. That desire for his hand on your waist to slide a little further down to your butt, or maybe even higher… to rest on your boobs. Or how you wondered what his abs felt like under that stupidly well-fitting polo, or what his lips might feel like on yours. How those same lips would taste, how they’d feel on your neck, shoulders, stomach, thighs, and—

HE HAD!!! HE’D LET HIS HAND WANDER FOR JUST A TINY SECOND, JUST A TINY INCH TOWARD YOUR HIP AND… then he’d pulled back.

Had you been absolutely overwhelmed in that moment? Yes. Were you still disappointed he hadn’t leave his hand there? YES. But did the fact that he did pull back—because he cared about not making you uncomfortable—make you want him to touch you even more BECAUSE HIM CARING ABOUT YOUR COMFORT WAS SO FUCKING HOT?

ABSOFUCKINGLUTELY.

You’d always found Rafe attractive (I mean, duh, even fifth-grade you had good taste), but now? This didn’t feel like just a crush anymore, like some cute guy you liked looking at. No, this was… different. Like there was this magnetic pull toward him and— okay, let’s be real, it felt like you wanted him to rip your clothes off and rock your world.

And the wildest part? Rafe apparently wanted to do exactly that, as he’d stated two days ago, and WHAT'S STOPPING YOU THEN HHAHAHAHHAHAHA.

Oh right.

Probably the crippling fear of rejection, the fact that you're a virgin with zero real-life experience outside of chaotic fanfiction, and also the sheer vulnerability of baring your entire soul and body in front of a guy while handing him the key to the most fragile little drawer of your being.

Hah. Yeah. Nope. Sex definitely wasn’t happening anytime soon.

Besides… didn’t you technically just become friends two days ago? And that only because you basically forced him into it during that horrible spiral over his intentions. And if you suddenly told him (not that you even had the balls to do that) that you’d maybe potentially be down for… something, he’d probably smash your head against the wall for being so damn indecisive and for driving him to the brink of insanity during that conversation.

HAHAHAHAHA. Yeah not happening.

Anyway.

School.

You slung your bag over your shoulder and were just about to text Rafe when your phone buzzed at that exact moment, nearly giving you a heart attack.

Seriously, this freaking guy.

How was he one of the “cool” guys at school when he didn’t even know how to use the basic features on his phone? Like, excuse me? -100 aura.

Also, him saying he hated cats for being moody when HE acted like a moody stray cat himself? The irony was almost poetic.

AND NOT HIM CALLING YOU ‘BABY’. WHAT.

Okay, yeah, he very professionally crossed the word out, but like, he could have drawn over it completely.

But he hadn’t.

WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN OMFG.

Not a single day went by without him completely messing with your head with those weird, mixed (but also not mixed at all) signals. I meaaaan, he’d made it pretty clear that he wanted to bend you over, but was also totally fine being friends who flirted for fun???

Okay, the more you thought about that, the more ridiculous it sounded soooo, let’s push that thought away before you spiraled again and Rafe ended up actually smashing your head into a wall hahaha.

So you just—

Bzzrt.

You grabbed your phone again and chuckled.

You never would’ve guessed Rafe was such a drama queen and kind of needy. Not sexually (okay, maybe a little), but more like emotionally needy?

Like, the way he'd called you out for needing reassurance during your argument, and, look at him, the very same night clinging to you like a second shadow, blowing up your phone at every opportunity like you were the only friend he had.

And honestly? It kind of made you feel… wanted. Because he did it in this passive-aggressive, caring kind of way that made your chest warm up in all the right ways.

Shit, Rafe = Doberman confirmed (again).

Also, it was really sweet how comfortable he seemed with you. The way he let his guard down, showed vulnerability and affection, let himself be attached like that. He definitely didn’t act like that with Topper and Kelce.

Well, to be fair, they also hadn’t been cuddled up to him with their boobs pressed against his chest last night sooo… yeah.

Okay, you really needed to head downstairs now before Rafe showed up and gave you some kind of speech about making him wait 0.3 seconds.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

"Your mom loves me," he said as he pulled his Benz out of your driveway, grinning so wide he looked like the Cheshire Cat.

And, well, yeah, your mom had stood at the front door waving at him with a smile when she said goodbye. Actually, she was still standing there, her grin mirroring Rafe’s.

Ughhh, why was this so embarrassing.

"I think she’s just relieved I’m not taking her car again," you said with a small laugh. You’d kinda scratched the side mirror that one time trying to park in some hellishly narrow underground lot, oops.

Rafe shook his head, still grinning, and waved back to her before driving off. "Nah. Looks more like she just found the perfect son-in-law."

A baffled laugh escaped your lips at the absurdity. "Don’t know about that."

"Yeah? And why’s that?" He raised a brow, smirking at you as he glanced over. "Seemed like your mom and your dad pretty much threw themselves at me on Saturday."

You exhaled through your nose, amused. "Well, yeah. You looked wrecked with that bruise. Still do," you said, eyeing the purple blotch on his cheek. "Plus, my dad’s a doctor. It’s literally his job to care about people."

If only he knew how deeply your parents actually cared about him. How concerned they were after speaking to him once.

Rafe scoffed. "Yeah, sure. Next time I see them, they’ll probably start planning a wedding."

"And I’m pretty sure they’d ask for my consent first," you chuckled, though your heart did a little jump at him even mentioning marriage.

And your pulse spiked even more when Rafe gave you this weirdly serious look, almost more confused than amused. "What? Am I not living up to the princess’ standards?"

OH. WHAT.

Boy, if you only knew. You were the standard.

ALSO WHY WAS THIS THROWING YOU OFF SO BADLY, WHAT THE HELL.

Oh god, how were you supposed to respond without offending him but still giving an answer that satisfied him enough to let it go, without completely exposing your feelings but maybe still dropping some kind of hint AHHHHH???

Cheeks heating up, you let out an awkward laugh, fiddling with your bracelet. "Well, I mean… you don’t exactly strike me as the relationship type."

OH GIRL.

Rafe scoffed, amused. "Shit, what? So you’re saying I’m never settling down or what?"

UMMMMM.

Heart racing like crazy in your chest, you let out a strained chuckle, shaking your head. "No! No, of course not. I didn’t mean it like that, I just… I meant right now, you know?" You fidgeted with the little key charm on your bracelet. "I’m just not sure how to say it without you taking it the wrong way."

"It's that hookup topic again, huh?" Rafe asked, not entirely clear whether he was annoyed or entertained.

You shook your head. "Yes—I mean, no! Not that exactly. I just…" You sighed, feeling your neck heat up as well. "I only meant to say it doesn’t seem like you’re interested in anything serious right now. You brought up marriage and all, but that kinda needs a relationship as a foundation, right? Not that anyone our age is actually thinking about marriage." You grimaced, cringing at yourself. "Okay, please ignore everything I've said. I'm talking nonsense."

Rafe let out a chuckle and glanced sideways at you. "You know, I can have fun now and still settle down later."

UGHHHH PLEASE DROP IT.

"Yes, of course," you said, nodding like a lunatic. "I’m not judging. I was just objectively describing how you come across to me. That’s all."

He gave a tight-lipped smile, scratching his jaw, like he was letting your words settle. "I guess."

Oh no. Oh god. You’d offended him.

SHIT.

QUICK, FIX IT.

"I didn’t mean anything bad by it," you said quietly, watching his jaw clench.

The car stopped at a red light.

Rafe nodded, lips pressed together, and squinted out the windshield as he let out a strained laugh. "I dunno. You kinda made it sound like I’m incapable of committing."

WHY WAS HE TWISTING YOUR WORDS.

You shook your head, eyes wide. "Rafe, no, that’s absolutely not—"

"I mean, family’s important, right?" he cut in, his tone softer now, meeting your gaze for a split second. You nodded and opened your mouth but he kept going: "It’s about blood, loyalty, and all that shit. That’s what you build your life around." His brows twitched. "Just actually finding someone worth sharing this shit with, that’s the part that sucks."

He scoffed, raising his shoulders. "I mean, shit, there’s not a single girl at school I could tolerate for longer than a class period. Either they’re the most exhausting person alive or the most basic, boring chick ever."

Alriiiiiight.

Okay, first of all: him having this view on family and commitment? Wow. Unexpected. But then again, okay, not that surprising considering Ward Cameron was known to value family above everything else and Rafe practically worshipped his dad. So, okay, yeah, it made sense he shared that belief.

And second: wow… what were those last words supposed to mean? Did that mean he couldn’t actually tolerate you either? Which made no sense because he clearly—

“Don’t,” he scoffed, amused.

You blinked. “What?”

“Can hear your fuckass brain minion preaching some bullshit again.”

Uh…

“Obviously I wasn’t talking about you,” he said and pulled the car back into motion as the light turned green.

OH. WHAT.

WHAT WAS THAT SUPPOSED TO— WHAT. OKAY NO, THIS JUST SENT YOUR SPIRAL INTO OVERDRIVE BECAUSE WHAT DID HE MEAN BY THAT.

A baffled little laugh left your lips. “Not sure how I’m supposed to take that.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, brows furrowed as he stared straight ahead, fingers drumming against the steering wheel. Then he shrugged. “You’re fucking weird, so you’re not basic shit. And yeah, you are fucking exhausting, but not in a ‘buy me this, why didn’t you call me’ kinda way, blah blah,” a crooked smile tugged at his lips, “more like ‘I make easy things complicated’ exhausting.”

Uh-huh. Should’ve never asked.

You nodded slowly, raising your eyebrows. “Right.”

“Right,” Rafe mocked you with a scoff. “Just told you for like the hundredth time I fuck with you. Dunno what’s so hard to understand about that.”

Man, this guy and his attempts at expressing himself. You two really needed to work on that.

You raised a brow at him, lips tugging into a small grin. “Did you just mock me?”

“Did you just mock me,” he mimicked again, only to get smacked (more or less gently) on the arm for it.

A boyish laugh escaped him as he raised his brows at you. “Shit, nearly dislocated my shoulder.”

Idiot.

“Keep it up and Cacty’s gonna be raised by a single parent,” you said flatly, your expression amused.

Yes, during your Uber ride yesterday you’d both heavily debated what kind of plant to choose for your TrackerBuddies plant and, even more importantly, what to name it.

In the end, you’d compromised (okay, Rafe had given in because you threatened to kill the seed off). He got to pick the plant (“cactus are tough as fuck, aight”) and you picked the name (“fuckass name, plant’s gonna be a loser”).

Yeah, well, and now Cacty was already on level 3 because via notifications you’d seen how Rafe had been grinding that app since 5am this morning (not him paying for in-game coins and farming XP).

Rafe shot you the most dramatic scowl alive. “Shit, I already am a single parent. You only watered that fucker once since yesterday.”

“I didn’t have time this morning,” you replied with a chuckle.

“It’s literally one tap of a button.” Rafe raised a brow at you. “Fingers busy with something else or what?”

DUDE.

Immediate heat rushed to your face as you let out a very strained laugh. “You’re nasty.”

“Imma take that as a yes.”

HELP OH MY GOD. WHY WOULD HE SAY THAT.

Wait, no—fuck that. Last night you hadn’t been shy at all, why were you acting all flustered now? He’d literally had a boner lying next to you, like????? That hadn’t bothered you but this did?

Nah.

Time to throw that shit right back.

You gathered your courage and gave him a deadpan look. “Maybe you should use yours more often. Might help keep your libido in check.”

He only scoffed in amusement but ha! You caught that tiny furrow between his brows, the way his jaw tightened as he rubbed it.

Making Rafe uncomfortable? Shouldn’t feel as satisfying as it did.

He was just about to throw a smart-ass reply back when both your phones buzzed at the same time. His in the center console, yours in your bag.

Immediately your stomach tightened with unease. You couldn’t help but think of Ruthie. Was she trying to play real-life Gossip Girl now?

Before you could reach for your phone, Rafe grabbed his and tossed it into your lap. “0510. Who’s being annoying?”

ALRIGHT. TRUSTING YOU WITH HIS PHONE AGAIN AND EVEN GIVING YOU HIS PASSCODE. I MEAN. OKAY.

Heart beating a little faster, you unlocked it and tapped on the notification, leading you straight into his email app.

You blinked. “Mr. Smith.”

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

“I think we should use the free period to work on the project,” Rafe said as he crossed his arms on the stone table, biceps flexing while he did.

Mr. Smith had very kindly announced ahead of time (10 min prior the lesson) that he wouldn’t be in today because he was going to an art exhibition out of town. But he’d left the art room unlocked for anyone who wanted to continue working on their project.

You pulled your iPad from your bag, eyes scanning the display as you skimmed through your school notes. Shit, maybe sitting in the courtyard hadn’t been the best idea. The screen was reflecting.

Ugh, whatever.

“Again, I’ve got a math test afterward and I really don’t wanna fail,” you said, glancing up for a second. “I mean, you could already head to the copy shop and we can do the rest after school.”

PROPS TO YOU FOR INDIRECTLY ASKING TO HANG OUT LATER HIHIHI.

Rafe grimaced and leaned back, scratching his jaw. “Nah, I’ve got no clue about that crap. Besides, I’ve got no time this afternoon. Need to talk to my dad.”

Your heart sank. You’d really hoped to see him again later and spend more time together, but he was right. The Ruthie situation took priority. He only had six more days till the Gloaming to convince his dad to accept the deal and get the video deleted from Ruthie’s stash.

So you just nodded, opening your math folder. “Do you already know what you wanna say to him?”

You’d offered to talk about it last night during your late-night drive around, but Rafe insisted on saving that for today.

Rafe furrowed his brows, rubbing at one. “Shit, I don’t know. I mean, I gotta make him reconsider the deal.” He exhaled and shrugged. “But it’s fucked. The terms are shit, and agreeing to it would be like submitting to a guy way below him. No way he’ll even listen to me.”

Yeah, the whole thing would’ve been way easier if Rafe had to propose a new deal. But trying to make his dad rethink one he’d already dismissed? Practically impossible.

You nodded. And good thing you’d given this some thought before falling asleep. “Okay, three options,” you said. “First, you present the deal in such a way that he has to reconsider and say yes but even I think that’s the hardest route.” You pointed your Apple Pencil at him. “Second, we get Ruthie’s dad to rethink his terms. Maybe he’s open to talk. Or, I dunno, if we’re lucky maybe Ruthie is.”

Even as the words left your mouth you knew it was stupid. Ruthie never gave in. That’d just drag Rafe deeper into the shit.

“Fuck that,” Rafe said, crossing his arms on the table again AND GOD THEY LOOKED DELICIOUS DMKNCJKNCJKDS. “This bitch can’t be trusted and I sure as hell won't give her the satisfaction of handing her even more control over the situation.”

You chuckled. “I’m just laying out all the options, okay.”

Rafe exhaled and nodded, flicking his hand. “Aight. Option three?”

The juicy one.

“We play Ruthie’s own game,” you said, snapping your Apple Pencil back into its case with a soft click. “Either we hit her with an uno reverse and blackmail her so she has to delete the video.” You tilted your head. “Or we take care of it ourselves.”

An amused scoff escaped Rafe. “Yeah sure, let’s just ask her for her phone. I’m sure she’ll gladly hand it over.”

You frowned. “Rafe, I’m just trying to help you.”

He nodded, brows furrowed, running a hand through his hair. “I know, I know, I just…” He exhaled hard and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. “Shit’s pissing me off so bad, I can’t even put it into words.”

It's not like you’re capable of putting anything into words but yeah.

Still, how badly you wanted to see Ruthie burn for distressing this already distressed boy so badly. At least—and that was the only comforting thought at the moment—he didn’t seem to be falling deeper into his addiction (at least for now). His pupils looked normal, and by Rafe’s standards, he was acting pretty normal too.

“I know,” you said softly, giving him a small smile. “But again, you’re not alone in this shit, okay? And I still think it’s a good idea to let Topper and Kelce in on it. I mean, they’ve pieced most of it together by now anyway, might as well tell them the whole truth.”

Rafe grimaced, eyes fixed on the golden ring he kept fidgeting with.

“I know you’re kinda suspicious of Topper,” you went on, “but maybe we could use his closeness to Ruthie to our advantage. You know, get him to somehow delete the video or something, I don’t know.”

Then he looked up at you, eyes holding a weird glimmer, and said the last thing you expected to hear: “Or Gracie could.”

Your smile faded instantly.

Somehow that made your heart sink right away, a sick and ugly feeling twisting in your gut, and you could physically feel some butterflies die in your stomach.

“I mean that bitch follows her around everywhere,” Rafe continued, brows furrowed. “She’s basically glued to Ruthie. If anyone could actually get to her phone, it’s her.”

Sure, he always talked shit about Gracie whenever she was brought up, and yet… she was still some kind of ex-girlie of his and—UGH GIRL PLEASE.

"Yeah," you said, your voice a little too detached. "You said it yourself: she’s glued to Ruthie. And even if you somehow convinced her to betray her best friend, how are you even planning to talk to her without Ruthie getting suspicious?"

Rafe shrugged, leaning back again. “Getting her to talk isn’t the problem. I could just hit her up, say I wanna hook up again. Should be easy enough.”

...

A few more butterflies lost their wings in that moment and your stomach practically turned inside out.

You just stared at him, genuinely overwhelmed and not knowing what to even say to that.

Shit, on one hand, that wasn’t even a bad idea. Out of everyone, Gracie did have the best shot at getting Ruthie’s phone. And Ruthie being betrayed by her own best friend? That was poetic justice.

But on the other hand...

The idea of Rafe and Gracie working together when this was supposed to be you and him, and worse—what if they rediscovered their thing again and actually went through with it?! AHHHHHHH.

No. Just no. Please don’t.

“What?” Rafe asked, clearly confused, pulling you out of your downward spiral.

You shook your head, brows furrowed. “Nothing, I… I just don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Rafe raised his brows, waiting for more.

“Well, like I said, I don’t think Gracie is that easily convinced to betray her best friend,” you said, the distant edge creeping back into your voice. “And let’s say she does agree to... talk. There's a high chance she runs straight to Ruthie the moment you even bring it up. You’d just be shooting yourself in the foot.”

That THANKFULLY made him pause.

Please say I'm right. PLEASE SAY I'M FUCKING RIGHT.

“Shit, what else am I supposed to do?” Rafe said, clearly frustrated. “It’s my only chance at getting rid of that fuckass video. Like, how the fuck am I supposed to blackmail Ruthie, huh?” He gestured to himself, shoulders raised. “Her nudes already leaked and no one cared, her dad fucking their housekeeper—no one gave a shit for whatever reason, and I bet anything else we could dig up on her, she’d just talk her way out of. This is fucked.”

He rubbed his eye and motioned with his other hand. “Might as well just go ahead and show my dad the fucking video myself.”

NO!

Your expression softened. “There’s gotta be another option. But I really feel like using sex as a last-ditch effort to get what you want is—”

“Shit, no,” Rafe cut you off quickly, shaking his head, face twisted in disgust. “I wouldn’t actually hook up with her.” He tapped both sides of his temple, eyes intense. “Bitch is fucking crazy. And I’m not talking ‘got some dumbass minions in her head’ crazy, I mean like, ‘asks to roleplay as Ruthie during sex’ crazy.”

ALRIIIIGHT WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.

As much as this was the biggest relief ever, more than anything it absolutely horrified you. Then again… Gracie did seem to worship Ruthie a little too much, so this actually sounded kinda legit.

UGHHH. EW.

You let out a disbelieving laugh. “I really could’ve gone my whole life without knowing that.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Rafe scoffed. “What do you think it felt like for me? Right in the middle of bending her over, she turns around and—”

“OKAY! I believe you! No need for details,” you cut him off with a strained chuckle and—SHIT! Only twenty minutes left until math class. “So, how about we continue this after school? Or uh, after your convo with your dad?” You smiled sheepishly. “I really gotta study now.”

Rafe’s brows twitched, but he nodded. “4pm? I don’t think that talk’s gonna take long. If my dad’s even open to listening.”

Slowly, the butterflies in your stomach began to piece themselves back together. A warm smile tugged at your lips at the thought of hanging out with him again later. “Sounds good. Hoping things go well.”

And just like that, a smile appeared on Rafe’s face too.

“Aight,” he said, getting up and walking around the table to your side, practically bumping into your hip as he sat down next to you. “Now lemme see how we can save your math grade from sucking ass.”

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

"There you two cuties are," Cara said as you and Rafe arrived at the table, holding your lunch trays in hand.

Funny, haha. You both just happened to arrive at the dining hall at the same time and just happened to get your food together hihihi (they were serving wraps and you could choose your own fillings).

The other three (+ Cara, obviously) eyed you with the biggest grins ever. Molly was seated between Kelce (obviously again) and Topper, and Cara sat across from them (which, kind of weird they were seated 3 + 1 instead of 2 + 2 but um… yeahhh).

You slipped in next to Cara and Rafe moved in beside you, immediately manspreading so his knee touched yours again.

THIS JUST MADE YOUR NERVES BUZZ A TINY LITTLE BIT BUT YOU LEFT IT THERE (ANOTHER OBVIOUSLY HIHIHI).

"How was last night?" Molly was the second to speak, and you could feel how badly Rafe wanted to throw a scowl her way.

So you beat him to it with a sheepish smile: "It was nice."

"Yo, we want details," Kelce said, grinning like an idiot.

UGHHHHH THIS SOUNDED WAY TOO MUCH LIKE “DID YOU GUYS DO IT?”

"Took her dad’s Corvette and we drove around," Rafe answered, a cocky smile tugging at his lips (him not crashing out? a first).

Kelce’s eyes widened. "Shiiiii, for real? Bet it felt like sliding down clouds."

"Better," Rafe answered, still grinning, and Kelce squinted like he’d just tasted something absolutely delicious.

"Your dad allowed that?" Topper asked, directing the question to you, swallowing a bite of his wrap. His bruise somehow looked worse than Rafe’s after one day.

Cara rolled her eyes. "Duh. He’s not your mom."

The table chuckled. Only Topper frowned, but you quickly said, "Well, I figured he’d allow it if someone capable was driving."

And that actually drew a genuine smile from Rafe as he looked down at his wrap, kinda struggling to hold it together (good thing you hadn’t told him to ask for it wrapped in a paper bag, but sure, what did you know).

"So, what happened after?" Cara asked, her face way too smug.

GIRL PLEASE.

"You always this fucking nosy?" Rafe lifted his gaze from his tragic wrap to meet Cara’s eyes with an irritated smile.

EXCUSE ME SIR, that’s my bestie!

You kicked him under the table but that idiot kept holding Cara’s gaze with a straight-up challenge in his eyes.

Help. They were both stubborn as hell. This could go downhill fast.

"We got some food and that’s basically it," you said with a tense smile, hoping those idiots would get the cue. And to quickly change the topic you asked, "And what about you guys?"

WAIT NO. SARAH AND THE POGUES HAD COME OVER AFTER YOU AND RAFE HAD LEFT.

OH MY GOD. SOMEONE SHOOT ME.

"I asked out Molly for the Gloaming," Kelce said (OMG MASTER OF READING SOCIAL CUES, THANK YOU).

You smiled genuinely and turned to Molly. "I assume you said yes."

"He dragged me to the beach and gifted me a necklace," she said, giggling, cheeks pink. "So yes."

OMDNJKSCHNSDKHNCKVDSHCNKVSHVSDK.

CUTEST COUPLE IN THE UNIVERSE FR OMG (let’s ignore Rafe brooding next to you).

And now you spotted it. A silver sun-shaped necklace resting against her freckled collarbone.

I LITERALLY CANNOT.

Cara nodded. "I want at least that and a fancy dinner and the biggest bouquet of roses possible."

Lmfao, the way Topper immediately looked up from his food, probably taking mental notes. Also not Cara very obviously saying that out loud.

So she was done with JJ. After one day.

Wow. Got her cheeks clapped and dipped. Queen.

"And you?" Kelce asked, turning to you with that gleaming white grin.

You smiled sheepishly, feeling your cheeks flush. "What?"

"Well, what’s your dream ‘getting asked out’ scenario?"

OH HELL NO. YOU KNEW EXACTLY WHAT HE WAS DOING, SAYING THAT IN FRONT OF RAFE, AND THAT JUST MADE EVERYTHING. SO. FREAKING. AWKWARD. BYEEEEEE.

"Or someone already done that?" he added, eyes flicking over to Rafe for a second who was very focused on not letting his wrap fall apart (you were this close to snatching it and wrapping it properly for him).

Ummmmmmm. Literally though, if Rafe asked you out?

Dead. Instantly. Because holy shit, that? That’s what little you had always dreamed of, always hoping that the impossible would happen and Rafe freaking Cameron asking you out to Midsummers or the Gloaming.

You just let out a nervous chuckle and shrugged. "Um… no."

AND THEN THE WORST THING HAPPENED.

Kelce’s gaze shifted to Rafe again. AND YOU COULD ALREADY HEAR HIM GEARING UP TO ASK RAFE IF HE’D BE THE ONE TO ASK YOU OUT OR SOME SHIT BUT—

"Rob’s still in town until Sunday," Topper stated, and you could feel the gust of wind from how fast Rafe’s head snapped up beside you. "He’s been asking about you."

Oh… um.

A baffled smile tugged at your lips because you honestly didn’t know how to feel about this fact.

Flattered? Uncomfortable? Annoyed that Rafe hadn't asked you out for the Gloaming just after two days of befriending each other hahahahha ???

"Why the fuck is that fucker still hanging around?" Rafe asked, scowling so deep you could see the minus friends symbol appear above his head like he was a Sim.

Topper eyed him for a second, clearly still bitter about the punch, and shrugged. "High school doesn’t start for him until next week, so he’s sticking around at his aunt’s place a little longer."

Um, the tension at this table was basically tangible now. Rafe was glaring at Topper like he was more pissed at him than Rob being in town.

"And I thought if Y/n wanted a date to the Gloaming," Topper continued, "they could go together."

Cara nodded in agreement (HUH?) and turned to you. "Yeah, oh my god, you vibed so well and you’d look so cute together."

Oh, you knew what she was doing. What all of them were trying to accomplish here. And it just made you want to crawl under the table and disappear.

You knew they meant well, but trying to get Rafe to ask you out by making him jealous or competitive or whatever? Absolutely and definitely the wrong move.

And Rafe thought so too. His smile twisted with irritation, and--

OKAY GIRL LET’S DE-ESCALATE THIS.

You very politely shook your head with a smile, trying to ignore the way your palms got clammy. "That’s a nice thought, Topper, thanks, but I feel like that would just give him the wrong idea."

Topper’s brows twitched but he nodded. "Still, you could keep it in mind."

MY MIND IS FULL ALREADY, THANKS.

"Yes, thanks," you replied anyway, relaxing a little when Rafe seemed to shift his attention back to his food, finally grabbing a fork and eating his disaster of a wrap like that.

Wait.

Oh no.

You saw it. Everyone (except Rafe, who was fully focused on stabbing his wrap) looked at Molly with this quiet, knowing anticipation.

COULD THEY PLEASE DROP IT. THIS WAS GETTING OUT OF HAND.

Molly let out a small breath and gave Rafe one of her signature sweet smiles. "What about you, Rafe?"

"Huh?" He looked up, mouth full of wrap.

"You planning to ask someone out, or are you going solo?" Molly asked, and wow, instead of snapping at her, Rafe just furrowed his brows.

Molly really was an angel.

And holy shit, everyone at the table seemed to hold their breath. YOU INCLUDED BECAUSE JCDKWLSJSDHJFUJDFLS.

Rafe swallowed his bite, a deep crease between his brows, and said: "If every girl keeps being this fucking annoying—"

“Yo, dude,” Kelce cut him off firmly, and oh. My. God. The way he actually looked intimidating when he wanted to, voice soft but with just the right amount of warning. Um… kinda hot, BYE.

Molly just chuckled softly, AND THANK YOU QUEEN for not taking Rafe’s moody ass to heart.

“What?” Rafe said, gesturing to his food. “Just trying to fucking eat here and y’all keep pissing me off with annoying-ass questions. If I wanted to giggle about the fucking Gloaming, I’d have sat with a bunch of 6th graders.”

Cara snorted. “Then maybe let them show you how to eat properly too.”

All of you chuckled. Except Rafe, whose face turned into a full-on scowl (keep it up and it’ll stick like that forever). He aggressively stabbed his fork into a slice of avocado (and when it slipped off, you nearly lost it).

Then he raised the now-empty fork and pointed it at everyone, a crooked smile on his face. “You know what. You’re all fucking lucky I let yesterday’s bullshit slide.”

Duuude.

Was he seriously still salty about everyone spending a few hours with Sarah and the Pogues? Pleaseee, this weird class war in his head needed to be eradicated immediately.

The funniest part was how everyone just stared at him with the most deadpan looks ever (even Kelce and Molly BAHAHAHA) over the way this boy was acting up, and how he'd behaved yesterday.

Like, stupid idiot not realizing he was lucky they let his bullshit slide, But alright, go off, king of dramatic tantrums.

For a good ten seconds, the table was dead silent—just muffled voices from the other tables and the faint sound of the dining hall’s radio—until Molly finally spoke, her kind eyes and soft smile doing the absolute most.

“Did you guys know there’s a new museum opening in town?”

And just like that, the others jumped straight back into the convo like Rafe hadn’t said a damn thing.

You barely managed to stifle your laugh as he turned his head to meet your eyes, giving you such a fucking deadpan look like he was in The Office. “Next time we’ll fucking eat alone.”

AJSDFJKDFJKS OKAY.

The fact he kept including you in everything like it was the most natural thing in the world since Saturday? MADE YOU FEEL ALL KINDS OF SPECIAL.

Cheeks on fire, you chuckled and nodded toward his plate (which honestly looked like a bomb had gone off on it). “First, you gotta learn how to eat alone.”

Instead of snapping back, he just snorted, lips twisting into the cutest smile ever.

The rest of the lunch break actually went pretty smoothly. Luckily, the others mostly avoided any topic that might trigger Rafe (which was like, a solid two in total), and they even stayed away from talking about their night with Sarah and the Pogues.

Topper brought up the upcoming surf tournament again—the one he’d already mentioned last week at Kelce’s—and got kinda grumpy about the fact that the bruise on his face might still show up in the photos if it didn’t disappear by next week.

To which Cara simply said: “Don’t be such a baby. Just make sure they only shoot your other side. That one’s better anyway.”

“See,” Rafe added, looking at Topper. “Did you a favor.”

As soon as the bell rang, everyone got up to head to class.

Molly gave Kelce a kiss (they claimed they were only dating but yeah, wedding bells were ringing loud and clear), and headed off with Cara. You didn’t even get a real chance to say goodbye to Rafe and Topper because Kelce already started dragging you away, way too excited about the fact that Rafe was using TrackerBuddies again.

“He still hasn’t added me back, though,” he said with a slight frown as you walked down the hallway.

You chuckled, remembering they’d already had a plant together before but Rafe hadn’t watered it. “I’m sure he will. He’s probably still mourning the loss of your first plant.”

“Nah,” Kelce said, waving a hand with a grin. “He’s too busy with yours.” He nodded, impressed. “Level three already after just one day.”

Um, if he only knew Rafe kinda farmed the XP using real money. You definitely needed to tell him to stop doing that.

“Yeah, I think the only reason he re-joined that app was to beat your level with me,” you said, amused.

Kelce snorted. “Not surprised. If ‘competitive’ was a person, it’d be him.” He let out a laugh as you rounded the corner. “Back in 6th grade, he started surfing just to beat Topper.”

WAIT. RAFE COULD SURF??? OMFG.

The mental image of a wet, sunburnt Rafe in perfectly fitting shorts, riding waves and jogging back to shore with a surfboard under his arm, breathing heavy and—GIRL.

“And did he?” you asked, trying to chase away those unholy thoughts.

Kelce nodded, eyes wide. “Totally did. Dude devoured Topper with every wave. If he hadn’t quit after a month because he got bored of the sport, he probably could’ve gone pro.” His voice turned a bit more serious. “That’s the thing about him. He’s got so much potential, picks up on stuff so damn fast if he actually wants to. He could do so much more with himself but he just… doesn’t.”

Yeah, you’d noticed that too.

He crushed science and economics classes and even adapted quickly in art. Like when you were working on your collage? You only had to show him a few examples and he picked exactly the snippets you would’ve chosen. Not to mention his driving skills.

He already handled his Benz like he’d been born behind the wheel, but your dad’s Corvette? He adapted to that thing like it was second nature. Which, hot as hell.

Watching him drive in general? HOLY SHIT. That was one of the few times he got that concentrated, that focused and… ughhh you needed to chill.

“You and him are closer than he makes it seem, right?” you dared to ask, voice and expression full of genuine curiosity.

Kelce laughed. “I was his first friend in elementary school. He almost beat me up after I accidentally bumped into him.” A big grin spread across his face. “But I beat him up first and I guess that tamed him. He's still salty about it to this day.”

That made you laugh too, just as you came to a stop in front of your classroom. “I’m guessing that’s where the love-hate relationship between you two comes from.”

“Nah, that's his perspective,” Kelce replied with a soft smile, tapping his chest. “I love that guy, even if he acts like a rabid dog sometimes.”

You didn’t even get the chance to respond because Mrs. Richman was already calling the two of you into class.

Yay. Two hours of English with the way-too-enthusiastic teacher in her twenties who was already married and had two kids like OKAY.

And not even ten minutes into the lesson, your phone buzzed in your bag. Richman usually didn’t care, as long as you delivered during class.

So you fished your phone out of your bag and were immediately greeted by this absolute bomb:

JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.

What a fucking rollercoaster of emotions that conversation had been. Like, the literal heart spike that first picture alone had given you should’ve been enough to get you rushed to the ER.

AND THEN HE HAD THE AUDACITY NOT TO STRAIGHT-UP SAY HE WAS ASKING YOU OUT AS A DATE FOR THE GLOAMING, HELP OMG.

For one tiny fucking second, you’d actually thought he was asking you out to be his girlfriend (the delusions were truly getting out of hand). OH MY GOD, YOU COULD STILL FEEL YOUR CHEEKS BURNING AND THAT TINGLY FEELING UNDER YOUR SKIN JUST THINKING ABOUT IT.

Okay no. This was too much.

And here you thought you’d mastered the art of being chill around Rafe and just being yourself, which—this nonchalant persona you’d projected during the chat? Yeah, that was just you gaslighting yourself into staying calm BUT OH. MY. GOD.

Rafe Cameron. Wanted. You. To. Be. His. Date. To. The. Gloaming.

That was.

Crazy.

Insane.

Absolutely batshit impossible.

LIKE HAD THE OTHERS MANIFESTED THIS JUST EARLIER??? OR HAD RAFE ACTUALLY FALLEN FOR THEIR 'LET'S MAKE HIM JEALOUS' TACTIC????

I’m fine :) Totally fine :)

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP PASSING OUT AHHHHH.

And god, AGAIN, how freaking clingy that guy was. It was kinda sweet and sad at the same time. He seemed genuinely excited about you, but also? The way he clung to you so tightly probably meant he was scared you’d slip through his fingers or whatever angsty stuff was going on in that boy’s brain.

The broken sound of his voice as he called after you last night, begging you to stay, still echoed in your head, making your chest clench whenever you thought about it.

However, you needed to set some boundaries. As much as you loved his attention, this couldn’t spiral out of control. Clingy was just a short step away from possessive and controlling. And since Rafe only did extremes and already had a tendency to slip into that kind of stuff real quick, you needed to be careful.

Not cold or distant, just a little more mindful.

Like when he mentioned having a claim on you for the Gloaming... Sure, yeah, he was the first to ask you out, and yeah, he technically had dibs since he wanted to give it another shot (and also he was your crush...so) but calling it a claim?

Hmm. Definitely a grey area.

HAHAHAHA. FUNNY.

From not even speaking to Rafe for literal years to friendship, cuddling, and (almost) being each other's dates for the Gloaming in just one week? Yeah.

The fact that your brain had kept up with all of that without combusting or exploding? Impressive.

“Miss Y/l/n?”

Startled, you looked up from whatever void you’d been staring into.

Shit.

Mrs. Richman was eyeing you with one brow raised and that well-known face that screamed I knew you weren’t listening.

Ughhhh.

Your face immediately flushed as the whole class turned to look at you, Kelce included, who gave you a huge shit-eating grin from the side.

Okay. No other choice.

You plastered on your friendliest teacher-face, a sheepish smile tugging at your lips as you said: “Sorry, could you repeat the question please?”

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“Why don’t you two just get it over with already and fuck?”

You let out a baffled laugh at Cara’s deadpan expression.

After school, you’d met up and decided to grab some smoothies at the beach. And well, obviously you’d filled her in on everything since last night after you and Rafe dipped.

Oh, and kinda everything before that too. Your little heated conversation, how you ended up cuddling again etc. etc. (you did skip the boner incident because... yeah).

AND. You respected Rafe’s wish not to tell anyone about Ruthie’s blackmailing. As much as your whole body was itching to tell Cara—because SHE would definitely know how to beat that bitch at her own game, and also she was your bestie, you usually told her everything—you kept quiet.

Luckily, she was solely focused on the fact that Rafe had asked you out for the Gloaming anyway.

“I’m serious, Y/n,” she said, blinking dramatically at you. “Like...” she gestured randomly through the air, “you like him, he likes you. You’re obviously into him, and he’s so down bad for you, too. And god, don’t even get me started on that tension between you two.” She shook her head, pointing both hands at you. “I don’t even get why you two agreed on this whole friendship thing when you could’ve just started dating.”

UM.

Another surprised laugh escaped your lips, and Cara frowned. “I mean, you basically went on three dates already, sooo.”

“C, what are you even talking about?” you asked with a chuckle, sipping your iced smoothie.

“He took you out on Saturday,” she replied, raising her brows. “Twice, actually. And last night? That was pretty much a date.” She started counting on her fingers. “Paid for your ticket and snacks, sat down with you on one of those couple lounge beds—”

“That was just a regular lounge bed.”

“For couples, yes. Anyway,” she went on, “you fucking cuddled! I’m genuinely shocked you two haven’t kissed yet. But whatever.” She held up four fingers. “And then you dipped together afterward. Tell me that wasn’t a date.”

Okay. She had a point. But.

“Rafe’s straightforward,” you said, playing with your straw. “If he wanted it to be a date, he would’ve said so.”

Cara shook her head with a smug uh-uh expression.

“What?” you asked, raising your brows.

“He’s nervous,” she said, and you almost laughed out loud. “He’s only ever had short little things with girls. But with you? You’re not into hookups or meaningless stuff, so he knows it’s either all or nothing.” She tilted her head, smiling crookedly. “Plus, it’d be his first real relationship as well, and he’s never actually dated anyone before.”

“C, please.”

Cara blinked. “What?”

“I get what you’re saying,” you said with a small smile, “but like I already said yesterday, I don’t wanna ruin this thing with him by jumping ten steps ahead.” You let out a slightly overwhelmed laugh. “I mean, I gotta adjust to this situation at first. And I wanna get to know him properly before I even start thinking about that kind of stuff.”

Cara nodded like a maniac, motioning at you. “Exactly. That’s what dating is for. Getting to know each other, spending time together, seeing who the other person really is.”

“So basically what we’re already doing,” you said, amused.

She slapped her hand on the table. “Girl, that’s exactly what I’m telling you. Just make it official already. Talk to him, say the obvious out loud, and tell him nothing needs to change but instead of calling it your little meetings hangouts, you’d like to call them dates.”

Why was she so good at being convincing? Oh right, there was a reason she was in the debate club.

And honestly? If you brought that up at the right moment and made it sound like a little joke, you could test the waters and see how he reacted and then actually talk about it.

AGAIN: With Rafe, you never had to be afraid of doing dumb shit or embarrassing yourself.

He literally didn’t care. He might joke about it for like a second, and then drop it.

And didn’t he just say earlier during the ride to school that he’d be open to something serious with the right person? And didn’t Kie say just yesterday that you could be that person? And didn’t she also say he was probably into you (which, hello, you still hadn’t fully spiraled over)?

AND APPARENTLY EVERYONE ELSE THOUGHT YOU TWO WOULD BE PERFECT TOGETHER TOO??????

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH. THIS WAS TOO MUCH FOR YOUR BRAIN TO PROCESS AND DIGEST.

“Just think about it,” Cara said, her tone soft this time. “I honestly think just the fact you’d have the guts to bring it up would make him submit instantly.”

You laughed. “I don’t want him to submit. Both sides should want it."

Cara shrugged, lips tugging down. “Couldn’t be me.”

“Yeah, speaking of,” you said, a huge grin spreading across your face. “How’s it going with Topper?”

And that’s how you spent the rest of the afternoon—chatting, giggling, and sipping on delicious smoothies on the wooden deck of Harry’s Smoothie Bar, overlooking the sea.

Cara told you all about how last night had gone for her.

AKA how she cuddled with JJ during Barbie, how she later found out he shared a blanket with Pope during Transformers (jjpope confirmed?), how extremely whiny Topper had been in the first aid tent and how much he’d complained and sulked, ranting about Rafe the whole time.

How Cara had told him to shut the fuck up if he didn’t want her to leave, and how they were the only ones left after Kelce and Molly had dipped too, along with Sarah and the Pogues right after, because they wanted to go skinny dipping or something.

“God, I would've loved to join, but drama queen Topper obviously didn’t wanna come along,” she said, rolling her eyes. “So I stayed with his pitiful ass.”

Then she told you how impressed she was with Topper’s knowledge of politics and his take on the whole system, and how she’d almost considered blowing him in the toilet stalls for that but held herself back because she wanted to keep him on edge a little longer.

“He’s gotta work a little harder than just pulling this pathetic act,” she said.

You chuckled. “Don’t think it’s an act.”

“Yeah, no, me neither. Anyway…”

Eventually, you decided to head out—Cara had a hangout planned with Topper later (why was she allowed to call it a hangout??? whatever), and obviously, you were meeting up with Rafe.

Right on time, at 4 PM, you got home, said hi to your parents, and went straight to your room. HEART ALREADY RACING WITH EXCITEMENT AT SEEING HIM AGAIN (help I'm falling way too deep).

But when you pulled out your phone and sat down in your desk chair, a weird feeling started creeping into your chest.

Zero messages from Rafe.

You’d expected more weird or suggestive reaction pics he found on Pinterest, or maybe an update about how the conversation with his dad had gone but nothing?

Weird.

And you couldn’t help but wonder if it had gone that bad. Like bad enough for him to fall back into a coke-fueled high to drown his emotions like yesterday.

You'd kinda been ignoring his addiction and little criminal side hustle because just a boy doing dumb shit HAHAHAHA RIGHT, but if he was already—

The buzzing of your phone in your hand snapped you out of your near-spiral.

RAFE!

But he wasn’t texting you. NO THIS GUY WAS CALLING YOU.

HELP.

Okay okay everything’s chill, it’s not like this is the first time he’s calling me. GIRL YOU CUDDLED LAST NIGHT WITH HIM BFFR OMFG.

“Hey,” you answered, your voice pitched higher than it should be.

“Hey,” he said, chuckling. “You good?”

You nodded—AND THEN REALIZED HE COULDN’T SEE YOU—so you quickly said, “Yeah, Cara just dropped me off and I was getting ready.”

Another chuckle, though this one sounded… slightly off? “Aight. Just wanted to check if you're already home and let you know I'm gonna hop in the shower real quick, then I’ll head over. So I’ll be there in like 20.”

You very quickly pushed away the rush of images of RAFE IN THE FREAKING SHOWER and asked, totally normally: “Perfect. How’d things go with your dad?”

Oh no.

That pause said everything.

“Uh, yeah… maybe better if I tell you in person,” he replied awkwardly (?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!!?!).

Um, no. He couldn't give you a teaser like that and just leave you hanging… for like a few minutes BUT STILL.

You let out a strained chuckle. “Short version?”

“Trust me, it’s better if I tell you—”

“Just tell me if it went well or not.”

Another pause. Then: “For you or me?”

UM WHAT.

Heart rate skyrocketed. Immediate panic rushed through your nerves. And you couldn’t help but wonder if this had something to do with Gracie.

“Uh, what?” you asked, forcing a smile into your voice.

ANOTHER FREAKING PAUSE.

“I mean… for me, it could be real good,” he said, sounding way too excited for some reason. “But that depends on you.”

THIS WAS GETTING WORSE BY THE SECOND.

You frowned. “Am I supposed to convince my dad to take the deal or what?”

Rafe chuckled. “Shit, no, don’t think that’s something he’d be into.”

DUDE.

“Then what? Just spit it out please.” Your nerves were about to snap if he kept dragging this out.

A cute laugh escaped his lips. “Alright, alright.”

AND THEN ANOTHER STUPID PAUSE, I’M ABOUT TO LOSE IT.

“Okay, uh,” he started, clearing his throat awkwardly. “You know the stuff Molly does around Kelce?”

Ummmmmmmmmmmmm.

“Being herself” you stated, completely tensed.

WHERE THE FUCK WAS THIS HEADING?

“Yeah, no,” Rafe said, letting out a nervous breath (HIM BEING NERVOUS ALWAYS MADE YOU 200% MORE NERVOUS). “That whole acting like she just chugged a love potion thing. Heart eyes, giggles, and shit like that, you know.”

UH-HUH.

“I don’t think she’s acting,” you said, smiling nervously, feeling your hands grow clammy. "Pretty sure that's called being in love."

Rafe let out a breath that was somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle. “Yeah, whatever.”

PAUSE.

And then he dropped the biggest bomb yet:

“I kinda need you to do the same.”

w h a t .

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K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

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T A G L I S T F O R M (taglist for this series is CLOSED but you can sign up for my other stuff through this link)

@ursogorgeous13 @my-name-is-baby @moneybaby07 @jjasmiineee @sttaejoon-blog @vogueprincess @princesspeaxhh @wtfisastiles @wefelldowntherabbithole13 @rafes4 @kathryn-maraudersversion @wuluhwuhmaster @torturedtypewritersdept @sfotiegiuls @ltristessedureratoujours @stoned-writer @lunaleah @akobx @cokewithcameron @b00klvrs @rafesdrew @mattyskies @yktayy9669 @beabafreakbee @c1gsafterwhat @drewstarkeyswife-7 @wtfdudesblog @akobx @wintercrows @miaaaoa @setmefreemyg @pogueprincesa @chimchimjiminie16 @drewstarkeysrightarm @wtfdudesblog @wolfstarsimpxx @emmiesummers @brycesfav @ayy1234567 @rgeraldg @stanseventeen @louvrgirl @chaoticromantic @drewstarkeysrealwife @drewstarkeyswifehoe @psychicnatural @mysticbby2009 @oreocheescake-12 @miniiminie @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @drewstarkeyywife @persiar9

#killing me softly series #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron x yn #rafe cameron x you #rafe obx #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron smau

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jcollinswrites · 29 days ago

Text

Chapter 5 out 🥳

First of all...

THE SAVES WILL BREAK! There is no workaround. The saves will break.

Second, READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS AGAIN. This is important. Some heavy stuff will be present in this chapter.

The update is 158 000 extra words. The chapter is playable to the end, but it's still a work in progress. There will be missing choices towards the middle and end, which will be added later.

Right now though, I'm going on a vacation, so I will be much slower to answer until I get back at the end of June.

Click here for the demo

Patreon supporters already got to read this, but there won't be game updates on patreon either until I come back, so soonest at the end of June :)

Enjoy, and I hope you all will have a great time reading! ❤️

#interactive fiction #weeping gods #new update #chapter 5 #development log

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yungistiny · 4 months ago

Text

GAMEBOY ═ chapter one

[ J. Yunho ]

chapter one: his little ticks

╚═════════

summary: yunho has no idea that his neighbor across the hall, the same one he’s had a crush on, was his arch nemesis behind a headset

warning: dom yunho, bratty/sub reader, slight orgothumophilia, masturbation, unprotected sex, spanking, choking, degradation, overstimulation, oral, more will be added

pairing: gamer yunho x gamer afab reader

genre: smut, romance, angst, drama

word count: 2.1k

chapter two

masterlist

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“You streaming tonight?”

Yunho didn’t bother to look up at Wooyoung, mouth full of ramen, slurping the noodles up loudly, the juice and seasoning spicy and hot on his tongue. He nodded his head, letting out a satisfied moan at his food. Yunho had already been streaming all night, now one of the top streamers on Twitch. It was just now past 6:00 am, his roommate Wooyoung up and early to head into work at the ER.

“Dude, at least get some sleep.” Wooyoung grabbed his bag, heading towards the front door of the apartment. “You’re starting to get dark circles under your eyes.” Yunho had been streaming for almost two days straight, getting maybe six hours of sleep in those two days and it was starting to show.

Yunho finished his noodles, chugging the rest of the redbull he had been drinking. He had a Valorant stream later with San and the bane of his existence but viewers apparently loved when Yunho bickered back and forth with Juniper. Juniper was another popular streamer that he had come across a few months ago. San, his neighbor across the hall and fellow streamer, had introduced Yunho to her.

Yunho has never seen her face, no one has except maybe San. She’s always kept her face cut out of the shot of her stream, the only thing visible being her gaming setup and her from the chest down. Which was always very distracting for Yunho but he would never let her know that.

Ever since they first streamed together, Juniper managed to get under his skin. She was such a brat. She was also the only real competition Yunho had. And she loved to remind him of it. He just knew she was gonna drive him crazy during the stream, she always does. And he would never admit how much it turned him on. How when she would taunt, Yunho would have to clench his jaw, bite his tongue to keep from saying something that would get him banned from the streaming platform.

He’s tried to get San to tell him who she is, he was just curious about the girl behind the screen that seemed to love to piss him off but San would just brush him off, “it’s not my place to tell you.” is what he would always say.

It was getting close to 6:30 am, if Yunho went to sleep now he could maybe get in about nine hours of sleep, something he really needed because he was extra cranky, more prone to snap when he was sleep deprived. He sat an alarm on his phone to wake himself up around 4:00 pm. It would give him time to get up, eat, shower and get ready for a long stream.

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San watched his roommate in amusement, they had both just woken up from a long night of streaming, sleeping half the day away. Y/N was on the phone, voice sickly sweet, so inviting and flirty as she asked Yunho if he wanted to come over and help them eat the Chinese food they ordered, lying that they ordered too much when in reality, y/n purposely ordered all his favorites.

“You know he’s eventually going to find out.” San once again reminded her. It was only a matter of time before Yunho discovered she was Juniper. “He already pesters me about it all the time.”

Y/N bit her bottom lip, helping San display all the takeout containers on the small kitchen table they had. She liked Yunho from the moment San introduced them. Yunho was tall. He was big. His voice had a way of making her weak, especially when it would drop an octave deeper than it already was when Yunho would get annoyed, when she would manage to piss him off.

He was also funny, sweet and always made sure to get y/n her favorite coffee order when he went out to get his own. She would be lying to herself if she said she hadn’t been falling for him. She knew it. San certainly knew and loved to tease her about it. There was only one problem.

Yunho couldn’t stand her other persona. The streamer version of herself. The brat she was deep down. It put a delay in y/n making an actual move on him. How could she try and date him when he despised that side of her? “I’ll tell him.” Lie. She was so lying. “Eventually.”

San clearly didn’t believe her as a knock came from their front door. “You might want to shut that.” He pointed towards y/n open bedroom door that gave a perfect view of her gaming setup. One look inside and it wouldn’t take long for Yunho to put two and two together. “Shit!” She ran across the room to slam it shut just as San let Yunho inside.

Yunho arched a brow at y/n who stood in front of her bedroom door, face flushed, hand on the doorknob. He’s never been in her room, never seen even the slightest glimpse, but he wanted to. Yunho was down so bad for his neighbor it was a bit pathetic. Well, Wooyoung’s words, not his.

Y/N could ask Yunho to do her laundry and he’d do it. Has done it. Offered once when he had to do his own. Might of lingered his hands on a pair of her lacy black panties a little too long when he was folding her freshly clean clothes back into her basket. Wooyoung called him a pervert before laughing at his flushed face after walking in on him.

He’s tried asking her out on multiple occasions but always got too nervous. Too scared. Y/N was way out of his league. He knew that the moment San introduced them. It was a couple of years ago at their shared friend Seonghwa’s birthday party.

Yunho could still remember what she was wearing. The little red dress had him tongue tied. Choking on his own words. He even memorized her scent, the smell of her perfume. It’s his favorite smell now. Jasmine and vanilla. His crush only seemed to get worse over the years, especially after y/n moved in with San. Having her across the hall was like dangerous temptation.

Y/N smiled at Yunho, ignoring how good he looked in his baggy gray sweatpants. His dyed sandy brown hair was damp, the roots much darker, freshly washed from the shower. His favorite brown hoodie was on, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He left his shoes across the hall in his own apartment, feet warm in a pair of Spiderman socks.

“Hope you’re hungry.” Y/N brushed past him, his scent lingering. Cedar and juniper berries. She could have fucking moaned. The three of them all filled themselves a plate full, squishing together on the couch and eating while watching some kdrama San had been into lately, y/n paying no attention whatsoever. She was too distracted by Yunho’s hands.

Fuck! His hands. They were so big. Both her own could be held in one of his own. She knows this because it happened once. Yunho was helping her repaint the kitchen a few weeks after she had first moved in, y/n had stumbled, almost crashed to the floor after tripping over an empty paint bucket, but Yunho caught her. Both her hands snatched into one of his own, pulling her against his chest….

“Y/N, are you listening?” San’s voice snapped her out of her daze, her best friend shaking his head, trying hard not to laugh because she had been caught. Her eyes had been locked on Yunho’s hands for like the last ten minutes. Yunho himself was the first one to notice she was no longer joining in their small talk while eating. And surely he was mistaken?

Because Y/N was certainly not staring at him like that? Right? Like the way he knows he stares at her when she’s not looking. Of course she wasn’t. But…. If she was…. Yunho felt his heart start racing and he was suddenly thankful San changed the subject. “We should hurry up, it’s after 6:30, stream starts at 7:30.”

“Yeah,” Yunho groaned, leaning back against the couch, closing his eyes with a sigh. “She’s gonna drive me crazy tonight.” Neither San or y/n needed to ask who she was. The she in question was right there, sat snugly in between San and Yunho, though Yunho of course was unaware of that fact.

Y/N frowned. Maybe she took her taunting and teasing a little far? Instead of riling Yunho up, she ended up just making him hate her, well, Juniper. He had no idea. Y/N was careful not letting anyone know her identity, there was weirdos online and she never liked having her face in the spotlight. She even had a setting on her mic that helped disguise her voice, only slightly, making it more heavy, much more sultry. Not that much different than her own voice when she was…. turned on. Horny.

Her voice when she’d imagine Yunho splitting her open, taking out that pent up frustration from gaming on her, not aggressively just…. fuck her until she was a shaking, incoherent mess. Everything she would imagine while desperately fucking herself with her own too small fingers or a vibrator. Because Yunho was so damn hot when he was mad. The way he’d shake his head, clench his jaw, bite his bottom lip. The way he’d smirk, laughing unamused. He would always try so hard not to snap and those little ticks would only make y/n want to piss him off more.

She wanted him to fucking ruin her but, he wouldn’t. Not Yunho. He proved that every time he’d brush her snide remarks and bratty attitude while streaming off. His little ticks the closest she’s ever gonna get to seeing him snapping. Yunho just wasn’t the yelling, cursing, bending you over his lap and spanking you type. At least, y/n didn’t think so. “You know, sometimes I feel like you’re over exaggerating about this girl.”

Yunho scoffed at y/n teasing words. “No I’m not. It’s like she makes it her mission every time to piss me off.” And it was starting to get harder and harder to not snap, to not shut her up. Too hard to not tell her how bad he wanted to gag her mouth so she couldn’t say another word. Have her choking on his fingers while he bent her over his lap and… Yunho shook his head. That was a problem. He liked y/n. Really, really liked y/n. But he also knew, deep down, he also liked Juniper, the faceless gamer girl that was driving him crazy.

San was giving a pointed look at y/n, Yunho really had no idea. He was starting to feel bad. San knew Yunho had a crush on y/n, it was almost painfully obvious. It was so painfully obvious, Yunho’s ex girlfriend dumped him for it. Given, Yunho and his ex were already on the verge of a breakup before he had met y/n, but San’s best friend certainly was the final nail in the coffin for the relationship. That was a year ago.

“Maybe she thinks you’re hot when you’re mad.” Y/N shrugged, playing it off as a joke but Yunho froze. Her words like a slap to the face. Because what if she was right? What if that’s why Juniper was always so hell bent on pissing him off? There’s no way…. right? “I should go get ready.” Yunho helped San and y/n put the leftovers away, tossing the paper plates and takeout containers in the trash.

“I’m sure you two will be streaming all night.” Y/N followed him to the door, pouting. “Now I’m stuck to scroll Netflix by myself.” She leaned in the doorframe as Yunho walked across the hall, opening his own door. “I don’t have a stream Wednesday, Yellowjackets?”

Y/N bit her bottom lip to keep from smiling like an idiot. Yellowjackets was a new series they started watching together. They had finished the first season a couple of weeks ago but hadn’t had the time to start the second season just yet. “Yellowjackets and soju it is.”

Yunho chewed at the inside of his cheek, poking it with his tongue to keep himself from smiling too enthusiastically. His gaze lingered for a second, maybe a second too long, on y/n exposed legs in the short black pajama shorts she had on. He waited until she cleared her throat, told him goodnight and closed her apartment door before going inside his own.

“Maybe she thinks you’re hot when you’re mad.”

Yunho had two days before Wednesday and for the time being, he wanted to test y/n words out.

He wanted to see if he could turn the tables.

He wanted to make Juniper frustrated and a riled up mess tonight instead.

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permanent tag list: @straycat420 @autieofthevalley @dejatiny @hannahlilibet411 @xh01bri @jintastic-yuyu @maddycline @ultrapinkvoidbouquet @wooyoungsbrat @lucid-galaxys-world

#yunho #jeong yunho #yunho smut #yunho x y/n #yunho x reader #ateez #ateez fic #ateez fanfic

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smutmind · 4 days ago

Text

The Wife pt. 2

----

FULL CHAPTERS HERE

The door opened with a rustle of bags and the crisp scent of scallions and damp wool.

Chaeyoung stepped inside, cheeks pink from the chill. Her coat hung off one shoulder, hair damp from the evening mist, clingy against her collarbone. She nudged the door closed with her hip and kicked off her shoes with a practiced twist of her toes. Groceries cradled in her arms, she looked domestic, delicate—like the picture of normal.

“I got the mushrooms you like,” she called brightly. “And extra tofu. You’re gonna be spoiled tonight.”

Jihun sat at the dining table, hands resting still on either side of his laptop. The screen had dimmed, but he hadn’t moved in minutes. The blue cast from the monitor clung to his face like frost. He didn’t turn.

She peeked at him from the kitchen, brow lifting. “Babe?”

He nodded once. Barely.

No kiss. No smile. No warmth.

Her lips parted like she might say something—then she didn’t. She unpacked the groceries quietly instead, stacking vegetables, peeling open plastic bags, humming something soft and wordless under her breath. Like nothing had changed.

Later, she plated two warm bowls of doenjang-jjigae and set the table just the way he liked it. Napkin folded left, glass of water to the right. From the drawer, she palmed a tiny white pill, slipped it beside his chopsticks.

“Here,” she said gently, pressing it into his palm.

He looked down at it, then her.

“Just like always,” she added, coaxing. “You never forget.”

He swallowed it without a word.

They ate in silence, the stew steaming between them.

She watched him closely over her bowl. Eyes flicked up each time his jaw tensed. Her foot grazed his under the table, lingering. No response.

His mouth opened once, lips parting like they might form a thought. But nothing came out.

She stood. Her voice softened. “Shower with me?”

He blinked, looking up at her like she’d just spoken a foreign word.

She smiled gently, reaching for his hand. “You’ve been so quiet. Let me take care of you. Just for a while.”

. . .

The bathroom fogged fast, warm and close. She undressed him slowly, with reverence, folding each garment instead of dropping them. Her touch lingered on his chest, her lips brushing his shoulder as she peeled away his last layer.

She stepped out of her own clothes, letting the shirt drop to the tile. Her body gleamed under the lights—soft breasts, delicate lines, skin flushed and dewy. She kissed his sternum before pulling him under the spray.

Water ran down their bodies. She lathered soap between her palms and ran it over his chest, down his arms, across his belly. Her fingers slid between his thighs, slow and slick.

She soaped his cock with lazy, confident strokes. He twitched. Then stiffened.

“There he is,” she whispered with a grin. “Missed you.”

She leaned up and kissed his neck, then lower, licking at the hollow of his collarbone. Her hands moved in sync—one stroking his cock, the other cupping his balls, tugging gently.

“You’ve been carrying too much again,” she murmured. “Let me ease it off.”

His hips bucked slightly. His breath came heavier.

Her mouth found his nipples, sucking softly, tongue flicking. Her thumbs circled the head of his cock.

“I know this body,” she whispered. “Even when your mind forgets me.”

He groaned, one hand bracing the tile.

The pleasure built quick—clean, clinical. Her rhythm never faltered.

Then—

The pen.

Sharp. Real. Silver glint. That night.

He jerked back. “Wait—”

She paused. “What?”

He stepped out of the water, grabbing the sink. His breath fogged the mirror. “You were going to kill me.”

Her face didn’t change. “Jihun...”

“No,” he said, voice breaking. “That night. I wasn’t dreaming. You stood over me. You had a pen. You were going to—to stab me.”

She didn’t deny it. Didn’t move.

“Tell me the truth,” he said, turning. “Please. I need to know what this is. Who you are.”

She turned off the water. Silence bloomed in the room.

Then she grabbed a towel, wrapped it tight around her frame, and walked out without a word.

. . .

The bed was cold that night. She didn’t face him. Didn’t speak.

But her hand reached once toward his chest before pulling back.

By morning, she was gone.

The house smelled like scallions and warm soap.

And in the drawer beside his bed—tucked under a receipt and a loose coin—was the pen.

The same one.

His breath caught.

He never told her he saw it.

The sun had barely climbed when Chaeyoung stepped into the lion’s den wearing blood-colored heels.

Her coat was long, tailored, deep charcoal with silver stitching up the lapels like veins. Beneath it, she wore a high-slit black dress, sleeveless, her left thigh bare save for a single garter holster carrying a pearl-handled blade. Her hair was swept into a high, sharp ponytail. No earrings. No warmth.

Mina’s compound was quiet outside—just a steel gate and camera eyes. Inside, it pulsed low with jazz and shadow. Guard dogs roamed. Bodyguards nodded once and opened the doors.

Mina waited in the center room—legs crossed, cigarette burning red. She wore a dark maroon trench coat, nothing underneath except leather garters and glossy heels that caught the dim light. Her cleavage was sharp as her grin. Her nails were painted obsidian.

“You look like hell,” Mina said, exhaling smoke.

“Didn’t sleep,” Chaeyoung murmured, sinking onto the velvet sofa.

“Still playing house with the boy?”

“I think he’s starting to remember. Bits of it. The pen. That night.”

Mina tapped ash into a bone-colored dish. “Then he’s almost ready.”

“For what?” Chaeyoung asked.

“To stop being prey.”

Chaeyoung stared at her.

Mina leaned forward. “What if we don’t kill him? What if we make him one of us?”

Chaeyoung frowned. “That’s not the plan.”

“I know. But this new version—the soft one—he could be shaped. Reforged. Put in a gang jacket. Make the police chief’s son crawl through blood, ours, and then watch Daddy’s heart collapse.”

Chaeyoung sat back. Laughed once, dry. “You’re crueler than me.”

“You’re just tired.” Mina stood. Clapped her hands.

Two masked men emerged from the hallway—bare-chested, leather masks covering their heads, muscular, carved. Their cocks were already hard—dark, heavy, swaying with each step. One wore combat boots and a belt lined with black rope. The other had only gloves and a tattoo of a bleeding sword along his ribs.

Mina walked to the nearest one. Wrapped her hand around his shaft, stroking slow, casual. “He’s here for you. If you want to blow off some of that grief.”

Chaeyoung smiled faintly. “Not today.”

Mina tilted her head. “More for me, then.”

Chaeyoung rose, heels clicking.

“I’ll give you three weeks,” Mina said, still stroking the masked cock idly. “If he’s not one of us by then… I’ll kill him myself.”

Chaeyoung didn’t look back.

The front door clicked open with no urgency, as if she belonged to the silence she stepped into.

Chaeyoung entered like a breeze that knew the layout of the room. She moved without hesitation, without tension. Soft clothes swayed with her steps—a pale, oversized sweatshirt that hung off one shoulder, no bra beneath, navy leggings clinging to her thighs, her hips. Her hair was loose, damp from the morning air, curling softly at the ends like she'd come from a quiet walk by the river, not from a meeting with the city’s deadliest.

Jihun sat at the kitchen table, slouched slightly, hands wrapped around a half-empty glass like it anchored him. His gaze tracked her from under his brow, sharp but weary. He didn’t speak.

She didn’t either. Not at first.

She set her bag down carefully, unpacked the groceries with steady hands. The rustle of plastic and clink of vegetables against the counter filled the silence. Then she reached for a clean glass, filled it, uncapped the pill bottle, and dropped the tiny white capsule inside his reach.

She placed it in front of him. “Take it. Please.”

He stared at the pill, then at her.

“I know you don’t want to,” she said gently. “But I need you clear-headed. Just for a little while longer.”

He held her gaze a second longer, then picked up the glass and swallowed the pill.

A slow breath escaped her. She sat down across from him, legs folded under her, hands resting in her lap.

“I’m sorry, Jihun,” she said. “For the other night. For what you saw.”

He said nothing.

“They weren’t strangers,” she continued, voice quiet but steady. “Just ghosts from a different life. From before you.”

He blinked slowly.

“They called me boss,” she said with a soft smile. “But it’s not what it sounds like. I managed things. Quiet things. Logistics, strategy. No blood on my hands. Not directly.”

She reached up and rolled back her sleeve.

A bruise bloomed on her inner forearm—faint now, but unmistakable. Another mark peeked out above the waist of her leggings.

“Someone recognized you,” she whispered. “Thought you were a risk. I stopped it before it got worse.”

His eyes fell to the bruise.

“You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, then softer: “I didn’t want you to see this side of me.”

He didn’t respond, but his fingers tightened slightly around the rim of his glass.

She rose, walked around the table, and knelt beside him. Her hand slid over his knee, up to his thigh. “Let me make it right.”

She leaned in and kissed his jaw—slow, reverent. Not rushed. Not apologetic. Just hers.

“I miss you,” she whispered against his skin.

She trailed kisses down his throat, over his collarbone. Her lips lingered like she was memorizing his shape. Her hand found his, guided it to her chest.

“Do you still want me?”

His gaze dipped to her sweatshirt, loose and warm, revealing the edge of her bare breast where the fabric fell. The bruise near her hip. The longing in her eyes.

“Yes,” he breathed.

She pulled him to his feet, walked him to the bedroom without speaking.

. . .

She undressed him piece by piece, as if each layer meant something. Her fingers traced every inch of skin she revealed. No rush. No hunger. Just care. She kissed his chest, his shoulders, the hollow of his hips. She kissed the places he didn’t know held tension.

“You’re my peace,” she murmured.

Then she peeled off her sweatshirt and leggings, baring her body to him completely. She took his hand and placed it over her heart.

“Feel that? It’s yours. Always.”

She climbed onto the bed and pulled him with her. She straddled him slowly, lowering herself onto him with a breathless moan. Her eyes never left his.

“You’re home inside me,” she whispered.

He groaned as she sank down fully, her warmth wrapping around him. Her movements were slow, deep. She rocked her hips in slow circles, keeping him buried, grinding to the rhythm of her words.

“You make me clean.”

“You make me whole.”

He cupped her breasts, thumbs brushing her nipples. She arched into him, fingers tangled in his hair.

“I love your body,” she whispered, voice breaking with feeling. “I love every part of you.”

He thrust up into her, hands gripping her waist.

“Say it again,” he murmured.

She leaned close, lips at his ear. “You’re my only. My everything. I’ll burn this whole city down before I let them take you.”

He groaned. His orgasm built fast.

“Come inside me,” she whispered, rolling her hips faster now. “I want to feel you deep. I want to keep you inside all day.”

He surged upward, moaning her name, filling her. She cried out softly, clenching around him as she came with him.

She collapsed against him, chest heaving, sweat beading between them.

They lay tangled, her hand stroking his hair, his fingers tracing the bruise on her hip.

Then she spoke, quiet but clear.

“Jihun... would you follow me?”

He blinked. “Follow you where?”

She smiled, brushing a kiss against his lips.

“Down this path. Wherever it leads.”

#chaeyoung smut #twice smut #chaeyoung #twice #kpop smut #smut #smut stories #female idol smut #girl group smut #male reader smut #kpop idol smut #male reader

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sashaisready · 9 months ago

Text

Starting Over: Chapter 4 - Build

Mob!Bucky x Female Reader

Series Masterlist

When Bucky throws you out of the house for a betrayal and won't listen to your side of the story, you know the only way out is through - it's time to start over. Maybe this was never going to be your happy ending.

Me again! We’re back. Sorry I know I keep adding new parts but I’ve broken up the final chapter into two as it just keep going and this is a huge bumper one (sorry). I promise there genuinely will only be one more looool. Thanks again for all of your reblogs/comments/love for this story, it means a lot!!

💔

Lou had welcomed you back with open arms, fixing you up with a waitress job at the diner. Of course he had. Lou was like the father you’d never had. His love was one of the few constants in your life.

Mercifully, he didn’t ask you much about Bucky, didn’t chastise you for making a bad choice and getting involved with a mob boss. That wasn’t what Lou was about. He knew that ‘I told you so’ served no purpose, he knew that you were a big girl and there was nothing he could tell you that you didn’t already know yourself. So why bother? All that mattered was that you were here, and you needed him. He would always catch you when you fell.

Going back to waitressing didn’t feel like you’d taken a step back or that you’d somehow failed, if anything it was quite nice to see this former version of your life once more. And you’d missed chatting with the regulars, helping Lou with the accounts, occasionally fighting small fires (both metaphorical and very occasionally, literal). With Bucky you didn’t need to work, which was nice in one way, but you’d missed the structure and purpose your old job had given you. You previously had no interest in daily gossipy lunches with the other mob wives, and there was only so much shopping you could do.

“How did we ever cope without you?” Lou had asked one morning after you’d successfully chased and caught a dine and dasher, and saved hundreds of dollars on the power bill after negotiating a new contract. All before 10am.

You grinned, “I feel the same way about this place”.

You had moved in with Wanda, she had insisted - despite your protests. She and her boyfriend, Vis, gave you the spare room and said you could stay until you got back on your feet. It was small and full of all the extra stuff they couldn’t fit elsewhere in their apartment, but you didn’t care. You would’ve been happy with the couch, or a sleeping bag on the floor.

Nat was equally helpful, sorting you out by buying new clothes and shoes in your size and giving you some of the toiletries and make-up she didn’t use. She even cut and restyled your hair (‘because hair holds memories’, she told you) and took on whichever role you needed. Sometimes that was nights on her couch crying as she held you, other times it was hitting up the bars and trying to forget. She did it all. She had come and got you that morning at the hotel, after you sent her a frantic message from the rickety computer explaining what had happened. She told you she’d be there in 30 minutes…but ended up doing the trip in 20.

One afternoon a week or so later, Bucky’s men radioed him to let them know that there was a redhead in a Mercedes at the front gates demanding to speak to him. She wouldn’t take no for an answer. He’d sighed as he saw her familiar face on the security monitor and told them to let her in. He knew this day would come. He dismissed them, they didn’t need to be here for this.

Nat had parked up and casually exited the car, strolling across the patio as Bucky stood in the doorway and waited for the inevitable. She didn’t keep him waiting long, slugging him across the jaw with a sharp ‘thwack’ causing him to stagger back against the doorframe.

“Got it. Anything else to say?” he groaned.

She nodded and then kneed him hard in the groin, turning on her heel as she left him in a crumpled heap and ambled back to her car.

“I warned you this would happen if you hurt her”, she called out calmly without looking back.

“Always good to see you, Nat”, Bucky managed to eke out as she slammed the car door.

The generosity of them all was overwhelming, you knew how lucky you were. It’s often said that you don’t know who your true friends are until you fall on hard times, and your friends had proved themselves tenfold. You didn’t think you’d ever be able to repay their kindness.

💔

It had been about six weeks since the night at the hotel when he started coming to the diner. No goons or hangers-on, just him. Which was almost unheard of, given his position.

The first time was a Friday morning, around 9am. He sat in the corner booth, head buried in the menu.

“I can kick him out, hon’, I’m not scared of him”, Lou had snarled as he glared over at the man in the booth.

“It’s okay, Lou. I can handle him,” you told him gently, giving his arm a reassuring stroke.

You took a deep breath as you approached his table. You couldn’t see his face, just his hands, an eerie mirror of the first time you’d met.

“What can I get you?” you asked as you readied your pad and pen, your voice surprisingly even, in spite your stomach’s somersaults.

He lowered the menu slowly and you couldn’t deny it was good to see him again. His blue eyes shone, the former dusting of stubble over his chin and jawline now a fuller beard - just as tantalising as it had always been. A few strands of his hair had come away from the carefully styled gel, framing his face perfectly. Some of your former anger towards him bubbled away beneath the surface, but you couldn’t deny you had also missed him. You had loved him, after all.

The two of you shared a knowing smile.

“You know there are like…hundreds of other breakfast places in this city, right?” you teased, but half-serious.

“I do…but this is the only one that gets my eggs just right,” he grinned back.

“Mmm. I’ll pass your compliments onto the chef. You still want the usual?”

“Please”.

You scribbled down the familiar order onto the page. It felt strange to write it down again, it had been a long time since you’d done that for him.

“Are you going to behave?” you questioned, arms folded.

“Mostly”.

“You’d better. Lou will have your ass if you don’t” you scoffed.

“I don’t doubt it”.

“And Bucky, if you’re here to-” you began, your face betraying the pain that still lurked within you.

“I’m not”, he cut you off. “Just breakfast. I promise”.

You nodded, pressing your lips together with trepidation. The two of you watched the other for a few seconds.

“Well, okay, that’ll be right out”.

You turned and put his order into the kitchen. You didn’t have to look back to know he was watching.

“Here you go”.

You returned to the booth a little later, laying out the plates and re-filling his coffee, he thanked you and pulled a napkin from the dispenser.

“I like your new hair”, he said as he began to cut up his food, his eyes not leaving the table.

“Thanks. I like your new beard”.

“Thanks. Business going okay here?”

“Doing well. Yours?”

“Same old, same old…”

“And…Rumlow?” you asked, your throat catching a little as you said his name.

“Terminated” he replied coldly as he took a sip of coffee.

“Yes…I presumed so. HYDRA?”

“I finally cut off all of those heads”.

“I hope you mean metaphorically”.

“Mostly. The girls good? Vis?”

“All good. Steve? Sam?”

“Also good”.

“Good”.

“Well…good to catch up. Let me know if you need anything else. Enjoy”.

“Thanks”.

You waited for some big trick or reveal, but it never came. He ate his meal, drank another coffee refill, paid the bill, tipped, and left within the hour. Like any other customer. Lou was sceptical, and so were you – but there nothing to suggest it was anything else but breakfast…like he said.

And that’s how it was every Friday after that. He’d come in at 9am on the dot, sit in the same booth. Order the usual. You were always his waitress. Everything was the same, every week. The other regulars knew to avoid sitting at his table at that time. The other servers would barely bat an eyelid as he strolled in, taking for granted that you’d be along shortly to put his order in – even if he wasn’t in your section that morning. And it was…fine. He didn’t try and do anything more, didn’t ask you to meet anywhere or for a chance to talk. You initially thought it would be hard to see him again, but it was okay. Maybe a future where the two of you just pleasantly co-existed was possible.

The two of you would chat. Just small talk at first. Occasionally a joke. Even Lou would chat to him sometimes, he was still wary of Bucky but more open to him than he was previously. He certainly didn’t mind him spending money in his restaurant.

Weeks soon became months. Seasons changed. Still, he came in every week, rain or shine. Plates and plates of eggs eaten; endless coffee mugs refilled. He didn’t ever skip it, he was never sick, never seemed to take vacations. He showed up every time. Even if you weren’t there.

The small talk eventually evolved, so slowly you barely noticed it happen. You chatted more about the old times, memories started to feel fonder rather than sad reminders of what was lost. He told you anecdotes about Steve and Sam. You told him about Wanda and Vis, about Nat. You laughed uproariously one morning over the story of Sam’s disastrous vacation involving a mistaken suitcase and an overzealous TSA agent. It was nice to just sit and talk with him, just be with him. No expectations or obligations. You hadn’t forgiven him. You weren’t sure you ever could. But you had missed him. And seeing him for an hour every week, on your turf, just shooting the breeze – that was nice.

“So, you seeing anyone?” you asked one morning as you sat across from him in the booth and sipped your drink, your break coinciding with the end of his meal. You weren’t sure where it came from, but it popped out of your mouth before you had a chance to stop it. The curiosity was eating you alive. You seemed to talk about everything apart from his love life.

He firmly shook his head, “nope”.

You frowned. “Really? When was the last time you went on a date?”

“With you,” he replied in that no-nonsense tone of his.

You cocked your head, peering over at him in disbelief.

“But Bucky…”

“What? I’m not interested in anyone else”.

“But we’re not together. And it’s been months”.

“I know”, he replied stoically as he sipped his coffee. His eyes seemed to be studying you.

“And we’re not getting back together…”

“I know”.

“But…”

“But what?”

“I don’t know, but I-I don’t like this. It feels like a ploy, somehow. To push me into taking you back” you stammered, your finger dancing on the rim of your mug.

“It’s not. It’s just a fact. I didn’t even bring it up, you did”.

He was frustratingly calm and unperturbed, finishing his breakfast like this was just some casual conversation about the weather or a movie he’d seen.

“So…what, you’re never gonna date anyone again? Is that it?” you scowled.

He shrugged, “I never said that. It’s just not something I’m looking to do right now. Work is taking up most of my time. Plus, I’m in therapy, working through a few things. I’d rather be in a better place before I start dating again. Learn from my past mistakes”.

“Oh…” you responded in surprise, “well…that’s very mature of you. And is it…helpful?”

“Mmm, pretty eye opening,” he nodded as he took another sip of his coffee, “I’d recommend it to anyone,” he looked at you pointedly.

You felt the heat at your cheeks, perfectly aware that he was suggesting you do the same. And he was probably right. But you didn’t like the potential to appear vulnerable in front of him, so you merely shrugged and went back to rubbing your coffee cup. You were genuinely pleased for him…it was just unfortunate that your break-up was the catalyst. You felt a wave of grief roll through you.

You paused for just a beat, again unable to stop your word vomit.

“Are you gonna ask if I’m seeing anyone?”

“No”.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s none of my business. You can date whoever you want”, he shrugged, keeping his attention on his plate.

You frowned. “And you’re okay with that?”

“Yes. I just want you to be happy, doll”.

“Bullshit!” you scoffed, “you once picked a man up by his ankles and dipped his head in the toilet because he grabbed my ass at that party…”

“Well, that was deserved. And I didn’t flush it on him, so he got off easy…”

You pointed an accusatory finger at him across the table. “Buck…I know you. What’s your game, here?”

He sighed heavily, taking a long sip of his coffee before he spoke. His eyes finally moved up from his plate to meet yours. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I just like being with you? In whatever form I can? That maybe I’m happy just getting this time with you every week, no matter what happens between us?”

“And that’s enough for you?” you asked incredulously.

He shifted in his seat, his tone suddenly very serious.

“Look, doll. I’m always going to love you. And I’m always going to be honest with you. If you turned around tomorrow and you told me you wanted to give things another shot – sure, I’d bite your hand off to accept. But I live in the real world. And I know you aren’t likely to forgive me for what I did, and that’s fine. I’ve accepted that. I’m just happy to have you in my life in some way, even if that’s just talking to you every Friday while I have my breakfast”.

You blinked back at him, unsure whether to take him at his word or if this was some manipulation tactic. The word ‘love’ echoed in your ears, and you had to shake it off that he said he still felt that way about you. Maybe this was all some trick. You knew you couldn’t trust him anymore.

But as you looked into his eyes, for a moment his sentiment felt…genuine. Real. Maybe he was telling the truth.

“Fine”, you sighed as you took a sip from your cup, “I get paid to be here either way…”

💔

A few more months passed, it had been nearly a year since the break-up. Bucky remained a weekly customer but nothing else. You’d finally moved out of Wanda’s into your own place – a shitty, cramped studio apartment was the best you could do on a waitress wage and tips – but it was yours. It had been such a long time since you’d had your own space, you loved every meagre inch.

You'd also started therapy, to help get your head around your childhood and abandonment issues - to help understand why you were always ready to run and expect everything to collapse. Bucky was right, it was valuable - if not hard going. But you knew it was helping, even though nothing could be 'fixed' overnight.

You still visited Wanda and Vis regularly. In fact, you were over there laughing with Wanda and making an early dinner when you got the call that Friday evening. She knew something terrible had happened from the way your face fell, your eyes widening with shock as you listened to the voice on the other end telling you whatever horror story it was. Seconds later you were rushing out of the front door and trying to wrangle on your coat and grab your bag, as she called out to you in a panic just steps behind.

“It was a massive heart attack,” the doctor had said as she eyed the clipboard in front of her. “He was lucky that a passerby on the street called an ambulance, if he’d been alone…he may not have been able to call himself, and if it had been too late…”

You had not been at the hospital long, sweating and panting in your rush to get down there. Your head fuzzy, unable to fully take in what you’d been told. The doctor was still talking, her voice an unidentifiable drone in your ears as you concentrated all your efforts on staying upright. You tugged off your coat, suddenly far too hot. The hospital felt like a furnace, suffocating and stifling. You were dizzy, everything felt blurred.

A couple of chairs sat a few feet away along the sterile-looking hallway, you plopped down into one and put your head in your hands.

“Can she see him?” Wanda asked the doctor, her hands patting your shoulders supportively.

“He’s stable, but the team are just doing some observations on him. Plus, he needs to rest, and might be feeling groggy after the meds. He’ll be out for a good while. It might take some time to be conscious and lucid again, so-”

“I’ll wait,” you said defiantly, the first time you’d spoken since you got there. “However long it takes”.

“Yes, I understand. And you’re his…friend?”

“Daughter,” you corrected. “I’m Lou’s daughter. Well…good as. He doesn’t have any other family. Neither of us do…”

The doctor nodded kindly, pointing out the coffee machine across the hall and leaving you to it.

💔

Wanda waited with you for a while, but she had a work event that night. She insisted she’d stay but you waved her off, telling her you’d check in with her later. She’d been planning that event for months. Lou would be mad at her for missing it, let alone over him. And you meant it, you didn’t want her missing it because of you.

So, she left. Leaving you by yourself in the hard chair with the plastic cup of lukewarm motor oil masquerading as coffee. Nat was out in the Bahamas with some hottie for the week, and you didn’t really want to bother Vis, so you sat quietly alone. You kept sane by reminding yourself that Lou was stable, and his prognosis looked good. He would be okay. He would. He’s made of strong stuff.

Another hour went by, and you couldn’t help your tears from falling as you began to work yourself up worrying, exacerbated by the fact you hadn’t eaten and had nobody around to stop you from spiralling. Wanda had sent a few texts, but you knew she was busy and didn’t need you distracting her. You just wished you had someone to talk to. Or not even talk to, just be with. You squeezed your phone in your hands as if willing the idea that someone would suddenly call you out of the blue. A friend you’d forgotten, a long-lost family member. But there was nobody.

Well, almost nobody.

You pulled your purse onto your lap and dug through, retrieving your wallet at the bottom. You opened it up and checked each card holder until you found what you were searching for, slightly worn and torn tucked behind the library card you barely used, but the details still clear as day.

JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES

Director of 107 Inc.

You had scooped up the card after he left it in the hotel room. It was a bit of a split decision, you’d nearly tossed it in the trash but changed your mind at the last second and jammed it into your wallet, not really thinking about why. You hadn’t looked at it since, you’d never transferred his number into your phone, or even spoken to him outside of Fridays at the diner. But he had become something of a friend over the last few months, and you were surprised to find yourself looking forward to seeing him every week. It was as if you’d gotten to know each other again from scratch, a slow-burn friendship grown over time – the complete opposite of your initial whirlwind relationship, where heat had won out over foundations. But now, you felt you knew him differently. It was funny how you get to know somebody without the chemistry and physical attraction fogging up your brain.

Was this stupid? Were you asking for trouble? But…it would be nice to talk to someone. Just a phone call, nothing more. You took a deep breath and punched the numbers into the keypad before you could talk yourself out of it.

“Hello?” came his gruff voice in your year after two rings.

You sat upright, surprised he had even answered at all – let alone so fast. You hadn’t really thought about what you were going to say.

“Hey, Buck, I…” you squeaked, unable to mask the emotion in your voice.

“Doll?” his voice immediately softened, “what is it? Are you okay?”

“Yeah…well, no, actually. I’m at Mount Sinai…uh…Lou-uh, Lou had a big heart attack and I’m at the hospital and hesreallysickandI-I…”

You sobbed, your words melting into one as the pain of saying them out loud hit home, “I’m sorry I…”

“Hey. It’s okay. Take a moment for me, alright? Take a deep breath doll…”

You closed your eyes, inhaling and exhaling, blowing the air out of your lips like he said. You did it a few times, feeling slightly better afterwards,

“Good, that’s good,” Bucky told you. “Are you by yourself? Are Wanda and Nat there with you?”

“No…Wanda is working, Nat’s away. It’s fine…I just…”

“I’m so sorry about Lou, doll”, he said tenderly. “Do you want me to come down there?”

“No…no…it’s okay…I just. I just wanna talk,” you replied, wiping your eyes with the palm of your hand.

“Yeah…yeah, we can do that. What shall we talk about?”

You sighed, “I don’t know. Anything. Anything that isn’t hospitals or heart attacks…or food. Because I haven’t eaten and I’m starving.”

“Alright. Hmm. Well…I had to break up a fight between Thor and Scott today, if that helps distract you…”

“What? But Thor is twice Scott’s size. That was mean of him…”

“No…Scott started it. Said Thor was mouthing off about something or other and it all blew up. Scott swung for him”.

“What?? Is he insane?” you practically shrieked, the beginnings of a giggle forming in your throat as you tried to imagine Scott trying to land a punch as Thor towered above him.

“I guess so. But they worked it out. Last time I saw them they were laughing, and Thor was swinging him from his shoulders”.

You laughed. A proper, deep belly laugh. It felt good. Cathartic. You could practically see some of the tension leave your body.

“Well, I’m glad they figured it out. What else did you do today, Buck?”

“Hm. Not a lot. Mostly work. I went to the park. Just to get some air. Went to that duck pond you like and sat on the bench for a while”.

You smiled, “I love that pond”.

“I know. Remember that time you nearly fell in trying to help that duckling trapped in the weeds?”

“I do. I remember that you had to catch me and I accidentally splashed pondwater on your suit as I stumbled…” you laughed fondly.

“Not the worst thing I’ve had my dry cleaner remove for me. And we got the duckling back to its mom, even if she was furious at us”.

“She tried to bite you…”

“She succeeded”.

You both chuckled for a moment as you reminisced, then it suddenly went quiet between you both. You held the phone tightly to your ear, unsure and a little lost for words. It felt odd to feel tongue-tied around Bucky, it had always been so easy to know what to say to him. Despite how easy it was to slip back into nostalgia just now, and your newfound friendship, there was still something of a gulf between the two of you. You had been apart for so long now.

“…thanks, Buck,” you whispered.

“Anytime, doll”.

💔

After you hung up with Bucky, a nurse came over and you shot up out of your chair with anticipation. She told you that Lou was doing well but was slowly coming around after a heavy sedative. He should be ready for visitors in another hour or so. You sighed heavily but nodded grimly, as long as Lou was alright – that was all that mattered.

You sank back into your faithful chair, pulling out your rapidly dying phone again and wishing you had the foresight to bring a charger when you left Wanda’s. Or some food, at least.

You continued your vigil in the unfeeling hospital hallway, a place that seemed to exist outside of time. But you had to admit, speaking to Bucky had raised your spirits a little. It reminded you of the old days, when he was an anchor in a storm, a calming presence when things were tough. Part of you had missed that.

You’d just closed your eyes a little while later when you heard someone call your name.

“Still hungry?”

Your eyes filled with tears as your head snapped to see who it was.

There stood Bucky dressed in his off-duty grey sweats, his unstyled hair flopping across his forehead. In his hand was a brown bag, you instantly recognised the brand of your favourite take-out place printed across the front. It smelled heavenly.

“Buck…?” you mumbled in shock, not quite believing he was there, “what…what are you doing here?”

He shrugged, “you said you were alone and hadn’t eaten. I know how you get when you’re anxious. Figured you could use this”.

It wasn’t clear if he meant the food or the company, but in that moment, you were grateful for both.

He sat in the chair next to yours and began to methodically remove the food tubs, placing them on your lap and opening the lids as he pulled out a fork and napkins.

“Hope you still like this one,” he said as he revealed your usual order.

“I do”, you replied, your voice small.

“Good. Dig in.”

You began to eat slowly, feeling strangely self-conscious about your audience. Fortunately, he pulled out a tub of his own which took the focus off you. The two of you sat side by side and ate in silence.

“Thanks for this, Bucky,” you mumbled between mouthfuls.

“Anytime. Any news on Lou?”

“Should be ready for visitors soon”.

“Well, that’s good. He’s a tough old bastard.”

You both finished your meals and Bucky got to work tidying up the empty containers and old napkins and depositing them in the trash. You thanked him as he sat back down.

“Hey…thanks again, that was really thoughtful - but really, you don’t have to stay,” you shrugged, “you probably have a busy night”.

He shook his head, “nope. I’m wide open”.

He stared straight ahead and leaned back, his bulk squeezing up against the armrests of the chair. He wasn’t going anywhere.

“What do you mean when you said, ‘I know how you get when you’re anxious?’” you asked him tentatively.

“Just…I know how you can spiral when you’re stressed. Figured you could use some company is all,” he casually as he moved his hair away from his face.

“T-thanks,” you responded, your throat dry, “I’m not really up to chatting much right now, though”.

He was nonchalant, “that’s fine”.

The two of you sat side by side, nothing said.

It was awkward at first, sharing this cold and sterile space with your ex, worries about Lou weighing you down. But then after some time…it was sort of…okay? He didn’t try to initiate any conversation; he didn’t show any signs of boredom – even though he must’ve been feeling it. Didn’t complain. Didn’t check his watch. He just sat and waited with you, his arms propped up casually on the armrests and his eyes trained on the wall in front of him. You were grateful that he’d heeded your request not to speak as you didn’t have the brain power to labour a conversation. You didn’t fully understand why, but him just physically being there was strangely comforting - as odd as that was to admit to yourself.

Eventually the nurse returned, her smile warm as she greeted you.

“Oh, you have a friend. Right on time, Lou is ready to see you now”.

You quickly got to your feet and dashed after her as she led you to Lou’s room. Bucky followed close behind.

Your heart sank when you finally saw him, covered in wires and tubes, his face suddenly much older than his years. You gasped, rushing over to his bedside.

“Hey, kiddo” he wheezed, a smile creeping over his face despite the obvious effort it required, “aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

“Oh God, Lou, I was so scared…I thought you’d…” you took his hand in yours, unable to say the words out loud as the tears started again.

You felt like you’d cave in on yourself from the anguish, but a steadying hand found its way to your shoulder from behind you. Bucky squeezed once, a small reminder of his presence, then pulled his hand away. It was grounding, helpful.

“Hey there hon, I’m doin’ okay”, Lou rasped as he weakly tried to grip your hand in return. “But I guess this is a good reminder to lay off the bacon, huh?” he chuckled before the effort caused him to wheeze.

You smiled faintly and patted his hand, careful to mind the IV by his fingers, “you gotta start taking better care of yourself, okay? No more greasy breakfasts at work…”

He nodded slowly, his eyes flickering over to Bucky behind you, “you brought company…”

“Oh, yeah”, you turned to gesture to Bucky, “he sat with me and brought me dinner while I waited”.

Lou nodded, a flash of something in his eyes you couldn’t place. “You takin’ care of her?”

Bucky nodded in return, “of course”.

Lou inhaled deeply, “well…alright, I’m glad she’s not been by herself”, he begrudgingly offered. “I wouldn’t want her out in the cold…so to speak” he said pointedly, a clear reference to that awful night one year before.

“Rest assured…that would never happen,” Bucky responded coolly. “But I understand your concern”.

You watched as the two men stared at each other, something resembling an understanding seemed to lay between them.

💔

You sat with Lou for as long as you could before the doctor shooed you and Bucky out, explaining Lou needed to rest. You promised you’d be back tomorrow.

“Oh hon…no. Don’t waste your time on an old man like me,” he teased playfully.

“Oh, stop that. You know I’m going to be here with balloons and grapes, the whole shebang…” you grinned, putting your coat on.

“Good to see you, Lou” Bucky chimed in as he shook Lou’s hand, “you’ll be fighting fit in no time”.

Unbeknownst to you as you were busy with your bag and coat, Lou used a finger to beckon Bucky to move closer. Bucky obliged, leaning forward so that Lou could speak to him. His words were hushed but clear.

“Hurt her again and I’ll beat the living shit out of you. Bad ticker or not. And I don’t care how many of your goons you set on me…”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, but his expression betrayed no emotion, “understood”.

You turned, smiling obliviously at Lou just as Bucky stood back up to full height and cleared his throat. They both smiled back.

“See you tomorrow, Lou”.

“See you, kiddo”.

You left the room with Bucky trailing behind. As a small sob escaped your throat, his hand pressed firmly against your back. A small reminder that he’d shown up for you. He was there.

💔

#mob!bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #starting over fic

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evieskies · 1 month ago

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PAIRING: 3RACHA! Jisung x Ballerina! Fem! Reader

SYNOPSIS: After being involved in an accident 18 months ago, L/N Y/N was forced to put her whole life on hold to recover from a devastating injury. Everything from her classes, to her flourishing social life, and her growing ballet career— even her utterly confusing relationship with Han Jisung— came to a screeching halt.

Now she has returned to South Korea, ready to pick up where she left off. But Y/N soon realizes her life won’t simply be falling back into place like she had originally hoped it would.

GENRE: Drama. Romance. Angst. Fluff. Crack. Smut.

— TYPE: SMAU. Written. Non Idol! AU. University! AU. Performing Arts! AU.

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! Smut. Talks about depression, eating disorders, self deprecating thoughts/behaviors. Dark humor/ potentially offensive humor. Blackmail(ish). Miscommunication and Misunderstandings (Sorry not sorry😬). Toxic Relationships. Lying and Manipulation. Cheating (Not done by Y/N or Han). (More will probably be added later on).

STATUS: Ongoing…

— START DATE: June 11, 2025.

— END DATE: TBA.

AUTHOR’S NOTE ❤︎: I’ve had the idea for this smau— along with “of chaos and spirits” and a few other works— for such a long time. I’m so excited to actually put this out and I hope everyone enjoys it.

Please read through my warnings, this work will contain subjects that maybe triggering to some.

PROFILES

— Mickey Mouse Crackhouse🤡

— Sled Gang😈

— Y/N’s Paternal Figures + Wooyoung 🫡

MASTERLIST

Chapter 1: Th… Three Months😰.

Chapter 2: L/N Y/N.

Chapter 3: My Y/N Senses.

Chapter 4: I Think He’s Spiraling.

Chapter 5: You Didn’t Tell Her?

Chapter 6: I Hate It Here.

Chapter 7: Almost Got Isekaied.

Chapter 8: Like A Complete Bitch.

Chapter 9: Do Not Play Dumb.

Chapter 10: Not You Being Messy.

Chapter 11: I’m Fighting The Voices.

EXTRAS

— Meme Pack (Pt. 1)

— Meme Pack (Pt. 2)

Taglist (Open): @masterguccio @estella-novella @y2kur0mi

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woniehugs · 9 months ago

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OPERATION: FUCK SIM JAEYUN.

CHAPTER 1

—✧ summary: as a student, you were a huge academic overachiever, always wanting to excel in class and get the highest grades. as a teenage girl, you wanted to get some hardcore action. academics were stressful, and you needed an outlet for that stress. besides, it’s your second to the last year in high school. what could possible go wrong if you deviated and have a little fun? you’ve had your eyes on one guy for a while now, sim jaeyun. the handsome guy, the star soccer player, good at physics. now, you had another goal aside from finishing the school year as the top student: fuck sim jaeyun. one day, you get partnered together for a project, and one thing led to another, you end up in his bed. this might just turn your life for the better… or the worst.

—✧ pairing: jake sim x fem! reader

—✧ genre: highschool! au, fluff, pining (mutual? you’ll see), friends with benefits, casual relationship, smut (in later parts)

—✧ word count: 4.4k

—✧ taglist: @youreverydayzebra @witheeseung @w3bqrl , @freakywonbin, @enhafika, @enhacolor, @woniebuns, @cyberstephzz, @sumzysworld, @woniefull, @aanniikkaa, @faithnsstuff, @wonnienyang, @wonlluvie, @slut4hee, @hwaluvrsblog, @jakeswifez, @dreamiestay, @jiryunie, @nikibleist, @friurt, @jungwonsstrawberriesnchocolate, @jakesimfromstatefarm, @my10monthslovesimjae, @heefever, @milanco, @khaisdrz . send an ask if you want to be added!

══════*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*══════

the clock seemed to tick so slowly, and all you wanted to do was rip your head off out of boredom. mrs. smith had been droning on and on about physics for half an hour now. you had been listening of course, but only for the first 30 minutes before your mind drifted away.

midterms were coming up. you couldn’t wait to get it over with, looking forward to the week-long break ahead. you were exhausted, or no, that didn’t seem like the right word. you just didn’t feel like following your usual routine anymore.

wake up. go to school. listen to discussions. write notes. study. go home. study again. finish writing notes. review them. sleep. and the cycle repeats.

life had always been like that for you for as long as you could remember, maybe even since you were born.

now, you were burned out. or maybe just bored. yep, that seemed like the right word for it. just straight-ass bored. you wanted to deviate from your daily routine. anything to keep your mind off of everything, especially academics.

you knew you were doing well. you barely had to worry. you were more-so worried about your nonexistent sex life. for the past few months, you’d been really craving for some action. not out of peer pressure of course. you weren’t so sure if it just had something to do with realizations of a teenage girl or if someone just accidentally poured a dose of viagra in your drink when you first went to a club all by yourself. tons of overthinking happening there. that was months ago, so there was no way the drug could’ve lasted that long.

you’re not so sure who you are anymore, to be honest.

nonetheless, the truth is that you were a horny teenage girl who craved some action. no one in your school could have ever guessed that since you’re the goodie two shoes who’s almost always the top of her class and puts on extra work to earn extra credits from teachers. that excited you in some way. no one else knew about that fact but you.

at last, the bell rang. mrs. smith ended the discussion right on time (you weren’t listening anymore. did she say anything about laws of conservation of energy?). standing up from your chair, you quickly packed your things and left the classroom, on your way to the the soccer field. your safe haven, you’d like to call it.

why there? well, because the cafeteria was too crowded for your liking. you were claustrophobic (you just hated everyone). you loved being alone anyway, and you’ve always went there to eat lunch because it was peaceful and windy outside, unlike the cramped canteen that smelled of sweat and food so disgusting you would not dare put in your mouth again.

passing by some of your favorite teachers, you greeted them with a smile on your face.

you never liked being known as the ‘teacher’s pet’, because it made you seem like you were only close with the teachers for extra credit, when in reality, you really were just a friendly person. people just liked to talk and all. at this point in your life, you really just didn’t care anymore and let them say whatever they wanted to say. as long as they aren’t going anywhere near you, you’re sure you’ll survive this school year (like previously) just fine.

once you arrived outside, you sat yourself on one of the bleachers, the middle part to be more precise. you quietly ate your lunch, looking out on the field. the only sound audible was the clanking sound of your utensils. it was mostly empty, except…

a familiar figure caught your eye in the middle of the field.

munching on your food, you squint your eyes to try to make out who it was. a part of you was a 100% sure it was one of the school’s soccer players since he wore a jersey with a number and his last name on it.

05 sim

oh. you knew exactly who that guy was.

sim jaeyun. everyone in school calls him jake. right, everyone knows him. you’d be surprised if there was someone who doesn’t unless they were a transferee. jake was one of the few guys high school girls disgustingly swooned over. apparently, he was everything a girl could ever want.

looks? check. intelligence? check. height? slightly. athletic? check. hot voice? double check. sex god? triple check. or so that’s what you heard from those giggling girls that hangout near your locker every after class.

you didn’t get the appeal at first, especially since you thought he was just a good old nice guy who happened to be one of those who accidentally became popular because his looks. based on rumors, it turned out you were completely wrong.

you hate to admit it but as time passed, you did eventually find him attractive (and still do). you could see why everyone liked him. now that you wished you could feel what it’s like to be well taken care of by a guy who could not only make everything in your life better but also fuck the living daylights out of you, you couldn’t help but imagine jake being that guy.

“oh what the fuck am i thinking.” you muttered out loud, shaking the thoughts out of your head. you couldn’t believe you were having those kinds of thoughts while eating lunch and staring hard at jake.

you gaslit yourself into thinking it was fine and totally normal since he was the only guy you found good looking in your school, and happened to be in your view. you could eat him up if you wanted to—

god not again.

mentally praying to god to forgive you for those intrusive unholy thoughts you were having, you shut your lunchbox shut and grabbed your things. trying (a bit too hard) not to drop them, you scurried off and out of the soccer field, hurrying back inside the school to pull yourself together.

because what kind of girl, especially who everyone thinks is “innocent”, thinks of having sex with a guy, who probably isn’t even aware of her existence, and way out of her league, while eating lunch? you were definitely going insane.

“i need therapy.” you whined quietly to yourself, clutching your things tighter to your chest.

you were completely oblivious to jake catching a glimpse of you ever since you walked into the field. it was definitely better that you didn’t know about that because god knows what worse things you would’ve thought if you knew and stared right back at him too.

• • •

you weren’t so sure if god was by your side or against you at this point. was he secretly listening to your secret unspoken prayers of having an opportunity to talk to the one guy you’ve been thinking about (unnecessarily too distracted. you only ever pass by him in the hallways) for weeks? or did he just want to see you suffer for having sinned and going against what you were supposed to believe in?

you aren’t a very religious person, but you sure are debating now if you should become one.

because sim jaeyun is sitting right next to you in class, looking a bit too good-looking with his stupid ruffled hair and plump lips, since when did he have such clear skin and luscious hair?

life was so unfair. unfairingly amazing. this is one of the few moments where you silently thanked god.

two weeks after midterms, classes officially started for the final term. you were more than prepared and a bit excited to receive your grades, knowing you did well in the exams. what you weren’t prepared for was how sim jaeyun entered your classroom, with his bag slung over his shoulders, your teacher introducing him to the class, and how he’ll be moving to this classroom due to his excellent grades and performance during the midterms.

what the fuck. that’s all you were thinking the whole time your adviser was talking, while jake stood beside her in front of the class with that ridiculously handsome grin on his face. you weren’t so sure what to feel. pissed? relieved? thank the heavens above that this god of a man can finally know about your existence?

you shake your head, realizing you’ve been staring too long at your new seatmate before you turned your attention back to the board and listen. this was it. maybe god really did answer your prayers and provided you with the opportunity to do whatever you wanted for the past couple months. on a silver platter. a full-course meal.

side-eyeing jake, he catches your stare and you immediately look to the front again. why’s he staring at me? is there something on my face? why’d he have to have that look? it’s so annoying. please look away. you mentally ranted, tapping one foot lazily against the ground.

the entire session, you didn’t try to look at him again after that. however, that didn’t mean you weren’t thinking about him the whole time.

• • •

“y/n.”

were you daydreaming again? why’s jake saying your name in the middle of biology? you really should’ve slept earlier last night. you quietly blame the caffeine that was slowly leaving your system for this hallucination.

“pst. y/n.”

you blinked twice, slowly turning your head to your seatmate. okay, so he was calling you. that was a first. and hopefully not the last.

jake leans towards you and you felt your heart lurch a bit in your chest. god, y/n, pull yourself together! this is the first time you’ve interacted. you better not mess this up.

“i just wanted to ask if you had an extra pen? mine just ran out of ink, and mr. lewis is about to move on to the next slide.”

blah blah blah, proper name place name, backstory stuff. that’s all you were hearing in your head.

his voice really did sound sexy with that australian accent laced in it.

nodding your head at him, you open your pencil case to lend him a pen you didn’t use yet. it was your favorite brand. you would never let anyone else use it. but if it’s jake? you can buy him all your favorite pens in the world if it meant hearing him ask from you every day.

“here you go. you can have it.” simp. that’s what you were, and nothing has even happened yet. you like to cling to that thin string of hope that maybe something could bloom from this small exchange.

jake gives you a smile, as he took the pen from you. you feel his hand linger against yours for a bit before he pulls away. “really? thanks. i appreciate it.” he goes back to writing his notes on his notebook, and you take notice of the way he bites his bottom lip in concentration and squinting his eyes to see the slides on the screen better.

as for you, you were still listening of course, but also thinking about how you’d never have to squint your eyes or try too hard to see how charming sim jaeyun really is.

although, maybe you could try a bit harder if you wanted to test his and your bed chemistry in the near future.

• • •

no. it’s final. you’re going to die a virgin.

the old you would’ve never saw this as something bad or sappy since you didn’t really give a shit about that type of stuff. well, time has passed, things have changed.

“what on earth is wrong with me?!” you grabbed your hair in frustration, throwing a little tantrum in your bedroom. you’ve just finished doing your homework for the day and some extra reading for your literature class.

a month has passed since you’ve started interacting with jake, and you’ve been putting meaning in every single interaction you’ve had which was not helping with your little crush on him.

”i’ve seen you around. i hear teachers talk about you in the faculty all of the time.” so you knew about my existence before we interacted? you definitely like me.

”careful, pretty. there’s some freshmen fooling around in the hallways.” he thinks i’m pretty? full-on delulu mode.

”mrs. smith was looking for you. something about you passing an extra page of solutions way beyond the lessons discussed.” or was he finding an excuse to talk to you? those solutions were done out of boredom anyway.

”you prefer listening, don’t you? or do you just not want to talk to me?” are you kidding? i do want to to talk to you. i just prefer listening to your australian accent. besides, i could do something better with this mouth of mine.

not that you’ll ever admit any of those things out loud.

“no. i do not have a crush on him. i’m just ovulating.” you convince yourself, pacing around your bedroom in small strides. you clearly weren’t convincing yourself very well either. who ovulates for months?

was it still even considered a crush when there isn’t even a time in the day where you don’t think about all the things you would let him do (god would be disappointed) if you just talked to him first? listening was not going to get you anywhere. he might not approach you anymore.

you did not want that to happen.

at the end of your pacing session, you stopped being in-denial and come into terms with your feelings. not only were you extremely attracted to jake, but you also wanted to get laid. who else to do the job for you other than the sim jaeyun who definitely looks like he’d do an amazing job?

that gave you a new goal for this school year.

you opened your notes app on your phone and typed it out.

GOALS FOR THE SCHOOL YEAR:

- finish the school year maintaining my rank as a top student.

- fuck sim jaeyun. (badly want to be done!!!)

• • •

the buzz of chatter filled the classroom as mrs. smith talked about having a demonstration project that showcased the principles of electromagnetism. the whole term will be given for everyone to work on the project and present it before the final term exams.

a classmate raised their hand, asking if it will be done individually since it sounded like a huge project to do alone. for you though, you wouldn’t mind if that was the case.

mrs. smith smiled sweetly, motioning for them to put their hand down. “that was the next thing i was going to say. the project will be done in pairs. before any of you ask, i’ll be the one to choose your pairs. i have a list right here.”

you bit your lip in anticipation, the groans and complaints of your classmates filled the room. a part of you was nervous about who your partner will be because it was highly likely that you’ll be doing the project all by yourself.

unless…

mrs. smith started naming the list of project partners and you feel your heartbeat start to speed up when you realize your name wasn’t called yet, and half the class already was.

you kept your gaze on the board, barely listening anymore until…

“and last but not the least, sim jaeyun and y/n l/n.”

your pulse quickened at the sound of jake’s name. whispers and mutters could be heard among your classmates the moment both of your names were called. “isn’t that cheating, ma’am? you’re pairing two of the best students together!” one of your classmates blurted out, earning a few laughters.

that was a compliment you could take.

“i promise you, macky dear, the pairs were chosen randomly.” mrs. smith replied, assuring the class that everything was fair and square, even though you were also debating in your head if it really was.

you peek a glance over at jake, just as he turned and caught your eye. he gave a small nod and a friendly smile, sending your thoughts into a spiral. a huge part of you was excited, but a small part also was making you feel nervous of spending time alone with him outside of school.

mrs. smith turned her wrist to look at her watch, “alright. i’ll give you the rest of the period to discuss with your pairs. go on, everyone. chop chop!” oh god, this is it. you thought, mentally preparing yourself for what you were going to say. you needed to take the lead or you were going to go insane.

a screech of the chair against the tiled floor snapped you out of your thoughts, eyes widening a bit when you realize jake had moved his chair closer to your desk. you keep yourself compose, clearing your throat and dusting off imaginary dust off your uniform.

“hey again.” jake greeted with a grin, pushing his hair back, “have any thoughts on what we could do for this project?”

darn that gorgeous hair. “hey to you too.” a hint of a smile tug on your lips, mentally giving yourself a pat in the back for staying composed. “well, i was thinking we could build a model on electromagnetic induction. per se a simple generator that shows how changing magnetic fields can produce electricity.”

jake nodded thoughtfully, resting his chin on his hand. “i like it. we could even add a small light bulb to show when it’s working. as for materials, we’d need some copper wire, magnets, and maybe a hand crank.”

you blinked twice in amazement, finding yourself drawn in by the way he explained things. jake’s voice was steady and confident, and you couldn’t help but notice the easy charm in the way he carried himself, how his eyes seemed to sparkle when he talked about physics.

“i can get the copper wire and magnets. i know a shop downtown that has them.”

“perfect.” jake replied, his lips curling into a half-smile that made the room a little warmer (why were you sweating), and your thoughts wander to places you probably shouldn’t let them go.

“i’ve got some spare parts from my dad at home that we can use for the base and crank.” you wondered if his voice would sound different in a more private setting, if he’d be as confident about things that had nothing to do with physics.

okay there, y/n. hold your horses.

nodding away your intrusive thoughts, you force yourself to stay in topic and keep the conversation going. “so, when do you want to start? i’m free whenever.”

jake leaned back slightly against his seat, putting his hands behind his head. you clench your hands into fists about how incredibly hot you were feeling right now. why did him doing the barest of minimums make you feel like you were going to explode?

the thoughts. put them at the back of your mind. we’ll think about the way his biceps flexed against his uniform later. just not now of all times!

“hm, how about this weekend? we could work at my place.” you squeaked, grateful that jake didn’t seem to notice your reaction. “it’s quieter, and i’ve got a good setup and place for projects.”

“y-your place?” you repeated, mentally cursing yourself for stuttering. a mix of excitement and nerves running through your veins. this was totally it for you. “sure, that works for me. saturday afternoon?”

jake’s glance held yours for a moment longer before nodding, “yep. saturday’s good. can you give me your phone number? i’ll text you the address.” without a second thought, you gave him your phone number with ease. you were totally keeping things professional.

after he texts you the address, you changed his contact to his name. “i’ll be walking my dog before we get to work though. hope that’s fine with you.” jake mentions all of a sudden.

“no problem at all.” you assure him, having found a new interest at the mention of his dog. “what’s your dog’s name?”

“layla. she’s a border collie.” jake sits up from his chair, smiling even wider with the fact that you asked about his dog. “she’s a sweetheart, you’ll love her. you’ll see her this weekend, and don’t worry, she doesn’t bite.”

you let out a sarcastic scoff, “hardly doubt that. i have severe trust issues. the last time i tried petting someone else’s dog, i ended up with a huge bite on my wrist. definitely not something i would want to risk experiencing again.”

jake laughs, “really? that’s insane! i’ve never seen dogs that aggressive before.”

“when you meet a shih-tzu, you’ll understand.”

“trust me, layla’s really nice. she likes meeting new people and can get really clingy once she gets to know them.”

you smile, “we’ll see about that.”

with the project plans settled, there was a brief silence before you spoke up again, not wanting the conversation to end just yet. it was now or never.

“you’re pretty good at this kind of stuff. physics, I mean,” you started. “have you always been into it?”

jake shrugged, a hint of a grin on his lips. “i guess I’ve always liked figuring out how stuff work. always have, though most people just know me for soccer.”

that was true.

“soccer and science,” you teased lightly. “that’s a combination you don’t see every day.”

“yeah, well,” he said, leaning in slightly, “what about you? you’re always at the top of the class. do you ever get tired of being the overachiever?”

you laughed, a little caught off guard by the question, but you’re glad he seems to want to keep the conversation going too. “i guess,” you shrugged, “i’m used to aiming for the top in everything. but honestly, i’m kind of hoping for a little more excitement this year.”

jake’s gaze lingered on you, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he could tell that there was more to your words than you were letting on. that was something you’ll never know for now.

you tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear (not on purpose ofc), growing shy under his gaze and looking anywhere else but his face. “so, besides physics and soccer, is there anything else you’re secretly amazing at?” you asked with a playful grin.

jake raised an eyebrow, a spark of humor in his eyes. “well, if I tell you, then it won’t be a secret, will it?” he smirked before adding, “but, fine… i make a mean instant ramen. like, gourmet-level stuff. think: chopped scallions, the works. not to brag or anything, but i can easily add a soft-boiled egg without breaking it.”

you try to hold in your laughter at jake’s randomness but failed miserably. “how fancy. i guess that means you’re ready to survive college. instant ramen mastery is a pretty big deal.”

he chuckled, leaning in as if sharing a secret. “yeah, i’m prepared for all those ‘late-night study sessions,’ if you know what I mean.” his tone carried a hint of innuendo, just enough to send a jolt of heat to your cheeks.

guess those rumors of him being a natural flirt were true after all.

you tried to keep your composure, fiddling with your pen to distract yourself, and dropped it on your desk. “late-night study sessions, huh?” you shot back, trying to match his teasing tone. “i hope you’re as good at cramming… as you are at cooking.”

jake blinked, momentarily taken aback by your response before breaking into a laugh. “touché,” he said, his grin widening as he looked at you. “you know, you’re cute when you get all bold like that.”

there he goes again. the way he said it, like he was genuinely amused and maybe a little impressed, made your pulse quicken once again. there was something thrilling about the way he could fluster you so effortlessly, and the fact that you’d managed to catch him off guard, even for a moment, made it all the more fun.

gosh, you could hardly believe yourself right now. you let out a laugh, shrugging it off.

“don’t worry, y/n. I’ll keep my late-night ramen skills to myself… for now.”

you giggled, shaking your head. “deal. but if you really want to impress me, you’ll have to show off those ramen skills eventually.”

jake bit his bottom lip and chuckled. you could see a glint of playfulness still in his eyes, “we’ll see,” he said softly. it was a shock you haven’t said anything that would scare him away, thankfully.

WHAT THE HELL. STOP BITING YOUR LIP!

the playfulness in his eyes made it hard to look away, and for a moment, it felt like you were already friends. more than that, even (delulu). It was an easy kind of chemistry, one that made you wonder how many more conversations like this you’d have in the weeks to come.

ugh, i still got a long way to go, and you’re barely even getting there, y/n.

you cleared your throat, breaking the moment before it could get too intense. “well, i should probably start listing down other of the materials that we need,” you said, a hint of reluctance in your voice.

jake’s smile softened, and he gave a small nod. “right. we can’t slack off, can we?” he handed you your pen and notebook from your desk before you could. he steals a glance at you for a moment before dragging his chair back to its proper place. “i’ll see you saturday then. don’t be late, layla hates it when people keep her waiting.”

you laughed and waved him off. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

someone from the other side of the room calls jake, catching his attention. he nods at them, turning to you and nodding once. he stands up from his chair, giving you one last smile as he heads to their direction. you feel your cheeks heat up at his departure.

as soon as jake is out of your vision, you couldn’t help but feel a little giddy, smiling to yourself. the rest of the class continued chatting on around you, but it all seemed muted compared to the pulse in your ears. if today was any indication, working with him was going to be… interesting, to say the least. you’re partnered with sim jaeyun for goodness sake.

as you jotted down the materials list, you couldn’t help but sneak another glance at him across the room. this was just the beginning. you had a lot more planned than just a physics project.

══════*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*══════

>>>

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izzih22 · 20 days ago

Text

Chapter 3

The Grand Reveal

Note: there’s an Easter egg in here so if yall find it lemme know😂😂

If Paige bounced her leg one more time under the table, Azzi was going to step on it.

“Stop moving,” Azzi hissed under her breath.

“I can’t, Az. They’re all here. Both of our parents are literally ten feet from the baby.”

Azzi gave her a look. “The baby is still the size of a lime. They’re not gonna sense its presence.”

Paige dramatically placed a hand over Azzi’s stomach like she was protecting royalty. “Don’t listen to her, baby. Mama is here to defend your honor.”

Azzi laughed quietly, reaching over to rest her hand on top of Paige’s. Their fingers laced. Hearts calm, but barely.

Both families were gathered in their living room moms, brothers, even grandparents everyone chatting and passing around snacks like it was just another casual Sunday dinner.

It wasn’t.

Azzi had made lasagna. Paige had made a slideshow.

Yes, a literal slideshow.

And it was about to go down.

“All right,” Paige said, suddenly clapping her hands. “Can I get everyone’s attention? I have something to show you.”

Azzi covered her face with her hands. “Oh my god, this is actually happening.”

Paige was already plugging her laptop into the TV.

“I swear to God if there’s a sound effect—” Azzi began.

“Dun dun duuun!”

Paige added the sound effect manually. With her mouth. And a dramatic spin.

Azzi groaned.

Everyone else was clearly amused.

“Okay, okay,” Paige said, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “So, as you all know, Azzi and I have been together for a while now. You’ve supported us through long-distance, college ball, WNBA stress, every major injury, and every insane road trip snack haul—”

“Where is this going?” Azzi’s mom asked, laughing.

“I’m getting there, Mama Fudd.” Paige clicked the remote. The first slide appeared on the screen:

“The Next Chapter: Building a Legacy”

Complete with sparkles and a baby emoji.

“What the…” Azzi’s brother whispered.

Paige cleared her throat. “This isn’t about basketball. This is about something bigger.”

Azzi leaned in. “You’re such a drama queen.”

“I’m a showman, baby.” Paige clicked to the next slide:

“Azzi and I are…”

Another click.

“Expecting a new teammate.”

Then, finally—she clicked to the final slide.

A picture of their sonogram. Front and center. With a tiny UConn onesie below it and the words:

“Baby Bueckers arriving April sixth!”

Silence.

And then—

Absolute chaos.

Azzi’s mom gasped so loud it echoed. Paige’s mom screamed and ran over, hugging them both at once, while tears started falling. Paige’s grandma shouted something about being the “youngest-looking great-grandmother ever,” while Azzi’s brother immediately looked mildly traumatized and confused.

“YOU’RE PREGNANT?” her mom cried, hands flying to her face.

Azzi nodded, suddenly tearful too. “Yeah. About ten weeks now.”

“I knew it!” her mom yelled again. “You’ve been glowing and emotional and eating popsicles at 9 a.m.!”

“That’s just who she is,” Paige said with a sniffle, wiping her eyes. “But yes. Also pregnant.”

Her mom hugged Paige tightly. “You’re gonna be such a good mom. I’m so proud of you.”

“I already have a baby name list,” Paige said through the hug. “Alphabetized. Categorized by theme.”

Azzi’s dad just blinked. “You… made a PowerPoint to tell us?”

“Obviously,” Paige said. “I wanted it to be memorable.”

“It’s that,” her mom said, still crying. “It’s so much that.”

⸻

Later, after the hugs and tears settled, everyone moved into the kitchen to eat while Azzi sat on the couch, finally taking a breath.

Paige joined her, sliding an arm around her shoulder. “You okay, mama?”

Azzi rested her head on Paige’s. “I’m good. You were… extra.”

“Of course. I only get to tell our families we’re having a baby once.” She kissed Azzi’s cheek, then her stomach. “I’m so in love with both of you it’s stupid.”

Azzi smiled. “You’re gonna be that parent with a fanny pack full of organic fruit snacks and a playlist for every errand.”

“Damn right I am.”

They sat there quietly, watching their families laugh and eat and buzz with excitement.

And for a moment, everything felt exactly how it was supposed to be.

⸻

The next afternoon, Azzi stood courtside, tying her shoes while glancing at Paige across the gym.

“You are not gonna make it through this,” she muttered under her breath.

Paige was on the opposite sideline with Nika and Caroline, trying to act normal. Trying being the key word but the way she kept glancing at Azzi every five seconds like she was made of glass?

Not subtle.

KK jogged over and looked at Azzi suspiciously. “Okay, not to be dramatic, but what’s with your girl today? She’s acting like you’re about to break.”

“She’s always dramatic,” Azzi said, brushing her off. “Maybe she’s just in love.”

“She pushed Ice out of the way earlier so she could bring you your water bottle.”

“She forgot it had my name on it.”

“It literally said ‘AZZI’ in huge letters—”

“Let it go.”

But KK wasn’t the only one noticing. Ice and Caroline had been whispering like middle schoolers by the bleachers for ten minutes.

“She’s glowing,” Ice said, eyes narrowed.

“She’s definitely glowing,” Caroline agreed. “And Paige is acting like she’s guarding a national treasure.”

“That’s because she is a national treasure,” Paige said, suddenly behind them like a ghost. “You talkin’ about my wife again?”

Ice crossed her arms. “You’re hiding something.”

“I hide a lot of things. Like my secret brownie stash and my fear of clowns. Try again.”

Caroline squinted. “Paige.”

“What?”

“Why are you holding her bag like it’s a newborn?”

Paige blinked. “…No reason.”

Azzi sighed from across the gym. “Paige.”

Paige whipped around. “What?”

Azzi gave her a look. The one that said: Either you tell them or I will, and I will not be using a PowerPoint.

Paige ran a hand through her hair, dramatic as ever. “Fine. Fine! Everyone, circle up!”

The girls groaned.

“Seriously?”

“We’re literally trying to stretch.”

“Circle. Up.”

Eventually, they all did. Even Nika sat down, eyebrows raised. “What’s this about? Are you retiring again for the third time this month?”

“Ha ha,” Paige deadpanned. Then, her face broke into the goofiest, biggest, softest grin they’d ever seen. She walked to Azzi, grabbed her hand, and said, “We wanted to tell our families first, but now it’s your turn.”

Azzi smiled, a little shy. “We weren’t sure when to tell you guys, but…”

“We’re having a baby!” Paige practically shouted.

There was a solid three seconds of stunned silence—

And then?

Screaming. Absolute. Chaos.

Caroline jumped up and tackled Paige in a hug, both of them laughing and crying.

KK spun Azzi in a circle, yelling, “YOU’RE KIDDING. YOU’RE KIDDING. I’M GONNA BE AN AUNTIE?!”

Ice collapsed onto the court like she had been personally attacked by joy. “I knew it. I KNEW IT. I SAID SHE WAS GLOWING. OH MY GOD.”

Nika wiped her eyes and stood. “This baby better have my passing skills or I’m disowning them.”

The whole gym turned into a mini celebration. Everyone hugging, laughing, asking a thousand questions at once.

“How far along are you?”

“Do you know the gender yet?”

“Wait, did you plan this?!”

“Can I be godparent? I’m amazing with kids. I taught my cousin how to shoot free throws at age two.”

“WE’RE GONNA THROW YOU THE MOST OBNOXIOUS BABY SHOWER.”

Amid the noise, Paige had her arms around Azzi again, forehead pressed to hers. “Told you they’d freak.”

“You live for the drama,” Azzi teased.

“I live for you. And now this baby. You’ve been promoted to number two.”

Azzi laughed. “That’s fair.”

As the team kept buzzing with excitement, Paige looked around the gym and saw it her family, their family, chosen and bonded through basketball and love and chaos. All surrounding the two people she loved more than anything.

It was perfect.

#pazzi fics #paige x azzi #pazzi #paige and azzi #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #azzi fudd

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bestruction · 3 months ago

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Modern College AU – Nerd! Sasuke

You read the assignment slip and nearly groaned out loud.

Partner: Sasuke Uchiha.

Just your luck.

Everyone on campus knew him. Top of the class. Resident know-it-all. Sharp-tongued, emotionally unavailable, dark-haired brooder who treated group projects like solo missions and never showed up to study groups because he didn’t need to. Arrogant. Cold. Too pretty for his own good.

You spotted him sitting in the back of the lecture hall, black hoodie pulled over his head, legs stretched out like the world bored him. He was scribbling in his notebook, probably solving something three chapters ahead. As you approached, he glanced up—dark eyes meeting yours with a flicker of recognition and zero interest.

“Hey,” you said, arms crossed. “Looks like we’re stuck together.”

He stared. “Don’t slow me down.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I want to get this done in one go. No distractions. Just focus.”

Then he picked up his bag and walked away.

Didn’t even wait for your response.

You hated him already.

You met at the library that Saturday, mostly because he texted you:

Library. 2pm. Don’t be late.

No “hello.” No “can you?” Just… orders.

How did he get your number? That's a mystery.

You showed up at 2:03 on purpose. He glared at you like you’d committed murder.

“I was getting coffee,” you said, lifting the cup with a challenging tilt of your brow. “Want some?”

He didn’t answer. Just opened his laptop and started pulling up research links. And yet… two hours later, you realized something strange.

He was actually listening to your ideas.

Sure, he didn’t say much. And yes, he corrected you twice—okay, maybe four times—but he didn’t ignore you. When you pointed out a better source, he nodded and quietly added it. When you explained your take on the theory, he actually… leaned in.

And for the first time, you noticed something else too:

His lashes were stupid long. His voice had this low, smooth calm to it when he wasn’t being a condescending jerk. And his fingers? You had no business staring at the way they tapped the keys so fast, or the way his lips quirked when he got something right.

You told yourself you were just tired. Just annoyed. Just… hyper-aware.

Not crushing.

Definitely not.

A week into the project, something changed.

You met him after class—he waited for you this time—and as you walked together, he asked, almost shyly, “How’d you figure out that citation method so fast?”

You blinked. “What?”

He looked away. “It was good. I wouldn’t have thought of it.”

“…Did you just compliment me?”

His ears turned faintly red. “Don’t push it.”

You started noticing more: the way he brought you extra pens when yours exploded, or how he started saving a seat for you in the library without saying anything. How he texted you dry comments about your professor’s weird ties. How, when you got a migraine one night, he actually offered to finish the outline for you—and sent it over with your name listed first.

He could’ve taken credit, but he didn’t.

You started looking forward to seeing him, which was dangerous and made no sense at all. You hated arrogance. You hated aloof guys.

So why did your heart skip when he bumped your shoulder one day and said, “You’re not as annoying as I thought you’d be”?

Why did your stomach flip when he walked you home under a quiet sky, hands deep in his pockets, and stole glances at you like he was figuring out a new equation?

Why did you start wondering what it would feel like to run your hands through that ridiculously soft-looking hair?

But no.

You weren’t falling for Sasuke Uchiha.

You weren’t.

Except… maybe you were. Just a little.

Fuck.

#naruto #naruto x reader #sasule uchiha x reader #sasuke x you #sasuke x reader #sasuke #uchiha sasuke x reader #uchiha x reader #sasuke uchiha x reader #uchiha sasuke #sasuke uchiha

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mustyrosewater · 19 days ago

Text

𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐒𝐊𝐘 - 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖊

𝐫𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐭 𝐱 𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐛!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6,068

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: returning to the small wyoming town you were raised after a sharp fall from grace, your music career having turned into mindless pop you were forced to churn out by your manager and now ex, a return to home is just what you need, the perfect place to take a break from the life of a pop star, and also to meet some old faces.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: rhett is jealous again, tense eye contact, niki being a walking green flag, swearing and slight arguing.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: the niki fangirls are gonna love this one, the niki haters maybe not so much, sorry not sorry. the reposts and comments are so greatly appreciated my loves, your feedback means the world and keeps me motivated! please enjoy chapter three!

Aside from the slight talking to from your father when he had come home about an hour later, with a soft reminder to just let him know next time, the night trailed off to be particularly uneventful after the video call with Amanda had ended.

The next morning, you’d hopped into the shower first thing, suddenly feeling all the more grateful for the list of shower supplies you had no doubt Amanda had gone to the trouble of ordering and sending out to you, as they’d been waiting for you ready to go in the shower caddy on the first day.

Soaps that smelled like honey and facial exfloiator had seemed to be exactly what was needed to make you feel recharged and invigorated, washing away the sour emotions of last night.

Reminding yourself of the meditation tracks your therapist had sent to your phone as you stepped back out of the shower, you took the extra time to blow dry your wet hair, putting it up into a claw clip before changing into a comfortable set of grey lounge wear.

Today was a day that was whole heartedly for you, you knew your father was out today, so the entire house was solely your own for a few sweet hours.

Having initially began the day with a coffee and a quick fifteen minute guided meditation out on the porch, just as was recommended, a womans soft breathy voice guiding you through breathing exercises and wellness techniques that you were only half paying attention to.

Your reflex was to grab your phone and post your regularly scheduled promotions for whatever sponsor you were set up with for the day, but here you were, no pressure to post anything, no schedule to follow.

In short, you felt like you had too much free time to do anything with.

Standing on the porch looking out into the driveway in the distance, you could only huff and walk back inside, looking for something that you could fill your day with.

There was only so much old coffee to wash off of the mugs on the sink, polishing them to perfection was enough to waste away a whopping seventeen minutes, you’re only other option to sit on the plush couch and flick on the tv on the wall.

Sitting cross legged, you flicked through a few channels, nothing but older sitcoms played out on the tv stations out this way, maybe a local ad here and there.

As you flicked once more to another channel, the sound of the halfway point of a song began, realising you’d flicked onto the MTV of all things, surprised they even aired it out this far.

Within seconds, you recognised the song to be one of your own, the music video playing along with it, the skintight outfit you were wearing glistening while you danced, two other backup dancers imitating the movements behind you.

You could remember filming this one so clearly, the green screen you’d been made to dance in front of a clear memory, now superimposing you against a backdrop of what you guessed was meant to be the top of a building.

Inbetween the shots of you dancing and singing, they were followed by snippets of you splayed out onto a silk sheet on a bed, the little black nightie they’d put you in leaving little to the imagination as you made bedroom eyes into the camera, just as you were directed to.

It was hard not to cringe, you didn’t even hate the song entirely, the lyrics were just empty against what could have been a half decent hook.

Words of desire towards nobody in particular, singing about how much you loved some imaginary person and how badly you needed them.

The next shot seemed to be you in some sort of leather leotard with gold details, walking through a crowd of people in just as odd outfits dancing along to the song you were lip syncing against.

Unable to watch anymore, you flicked over to the next channel not even caring much for what was on there anymore, even if it was just so that you could have some background noise.

The feeling of your phone vibrating next to you was a welcome distraction, even if it was just a notification from the weather app.

Oh. This was much better than the weather.

A text message, from an unknown number, that didn’t remain unknown for long as you actually opened the message, reading keenly as you found yourself sitting up straighter.

‘hey, its niki. i hope you dont mind, your dad gave me your number before he left last night.’

Even thought you ached to check whether or not he’d actually asked for your number, or if your dad had simply offered it, which did actually sound like something he’d do to be polite to one of your old highschool friends, you resisted, some part of you trying her hardest to remain composed and play it cool.

Is it weird if you respond back too quickly? Would he know you’ve done nothing all day except stare at your phone and cringe at old music videos.

Tapping the back of your phone against your hand impatiently, you allowed at least a minute or two before you even looked at the message again, feeling the slightest bit giddy.

Finally allowing yourself the privilege of typing back a message, you’re teeth sunk into your bottom lip just a little bit as your nails tapped lightly against the screen.

‘oh hey! that’s ok, we probably should have exchanged numbers anyway, considering, haha.’

Unable to help yourself, you screenshotted the message, along with your response, sending it straight to Amanda, already knowing that she would want to be the first of all people to know.

Watching the text you had sent her turn green, as well as the small ‘read’ icon coming up from the bottom almost immediately, it shouldn’t have been a surprise that the facetime request all ready popped up onto your screen, the photo you took of Amanda when you were out to dinner spanning across the screen.

Opening the call with a soft hum sound, Amanda’s face came into view, a grin on her face rivalling that of the cheshire cat.

From what you could see, she was in her gym clothes, her hair in a low bun and a fresh sheen of sweat on her face as she walked to the locker room.

“What did i tell you.” she spoke as soon as she was alone in the locker room, shaking her head at you in the way she always did when she was proven right.

“Ok but like, this doesn’t mean anything solid yet.”

Your response only made her smirk more, her head turning as she opened up the locker containing her bag.

“Clearly he wants to give you something solid.”

Letting out a cackle, your head flying back slightly as you stood yourself, walking to the kitchen and placing the phone on the window sill so that you could make another coffee as you talked.

Before you could continue, you heard your phone vibrate, looking straight at the screen and squinting as you read the message that popped up.

Hearing the vibration through the face time call, Amanda’s wide eyed looked only made you grin more, putting a hand over your mouth to laugh as she placed her airpod in her ear to get ready to exit the gym.

“What’d he say!” she begged, waiting impatiently as you opened the message and read it silently. “I want you, baby, come round to my house so I can bend you over my kitchen table.” Amanda’s poor impression of some kind of latin accent and her comically deepened voice only made you roll your eyes.

“Shut up, thats not what it says.”

Finally reading the message, you couldn’t help but hop in place a tiny bit and let out a small little giggle.

“He’s asking if i’m gonna be at the rodeo on Wednesday, his dad and him are gonna be running his food truck there.”

As Amanda let out a sound of glee, she held a finger to signal to you to wait a second as she opened her car door and got inside, positioning the phone up on her dashboard as she gripped the steering wheel of the parked car.

“So, first of all, you’re going” she began, already taking charge as if she was planning every little detail out in her head to the upmost significance. “And second of all, you will be calling me the night of to pick a pair of jeans that makes your ass look irresistable.”

Rolling your eyes, you pulled up a mocking salute, unable to say no to any of Amanda’s orders; To be completely fair, she knew better thank you about most of these things, having always been the one you came to for advice.

She felt untouchable to you sometimes, like she just had everything figured out, even if you knew in your heart of hearts it wasn’t true.

There had been more than enough times where she’d been vulnerable to you in the same way you had to her, the time’s she’d taken care of her niece when her sister had to go through some treatment at the hospital, the flowers you’d helped her pick out.

It was so often that she was looking after you, so coming around to her place to help her with some dinner and a helping hand with the fussy little seven year old girl had been something she’d barely even had to ask.

“Ok girl, i love you, but i have to get ready to head back home, i’m having Kaycey over again.”

Nodding understandably, you gave her a smile as picked up the phone, using your free hand to run your fingers across your scalp, a small yawn coming out of your mouth.

“Tell her i said hi.”

Kaycey was adorable, but full of stubbornness, the pair of you slowly worked out what made her tick, how she preferred to watch old Bratz movies you’d watched when you were younger, as opposed to Bluey. As the facetime finally ended, the small chirp from your phone signalling the disconnect, you finally spared a look out the window, noticing the beginnings of rain falling from a now darkened sky, the first time it’s rained since the first time you arrived back in Wyoming.

Leaning against the wall as you held your phone back up, you continued typing out your response to Niki, assuring him you wouldn’t miss it, that you’d come up and say hi, even requesting the promise of some free food as a lighthearted joke.

Putting your phone down on the counter, you allowed yourself a moment to step outside, the pittering of rain already starting to sound out against the tin patio roof;

Just as you’d used to do all the time as a child, you took a deep inhale into your lungs, the unplaceable smell of the rain making your mind come flooding with nostalgia.

You’d had no idea just how good the smell of Wyoming rain smelled until it had been so long since you’d even been around it, finding yourself at a weird sense of peace that you hadn’t experienced for a long while.

When the night before the rodeo finally came, there’d been a steady stream of messaging occurring with Niki, messages exchanged reminiscing over highschool memories, asking about how his mother was doing and him gushing about how happy she was about the photo.

Graduating from texting to snapchat should have definitely been the first sign, or at least Amanda thought it was.

Soon enough you were receiving stupid little selfies of him grinning while stood behind the bar, captioned with things such as ‘it’s so dead here, don’t how know many more glasses i can polish’.

It was hard to pretend like you weren’t kicking your legs like a little girl whenever you received one of his absolutely adorable selfies, sometimes at home, sometimes at work.

It was on the off chance that when he’d asked how you were doing, you had a photo of a towel on the door, mentioning needing to take a shower in a bit.

The following snap you’d received from him only about a minute or two later had you with your jaw slack.

A cheeky grin on his face, obviously aware of the nature of the photo, there he stood in all his glory, his arm reached above his head to rest his hand on the doorway above him, his shirt riding up just enough so that you could see the beginning of a line going along his pelvis, a sneaky little hint of olive skin poking out.

For a moment you felt like you’d died and gone to heaven, the way you had to put a hand over your mouth to hide the small laugh of disbelief at his sudden boldness.

The caption didn’t help by any means, only agreeing that he himself also had to shower, the mirror in the bathroom providing just enough of a shadow so that he was slightly less in view.

At first, it was hard not to feel at least a little bit of panic, debating what exactly you could send back, whether or not you wanted to match his energy, return the bone he had thrown your way.

Brief consultation with Amanda has proved more than helpful, advising that an innocent enough little selfie in your pajamas laying on the bed was more than enough of a response, while still hinting at something more.

By no means were you about to jump into sending a nude to your old science partner, but there was certainly some little kick out of being subtly flirty, you definitely missed the feeling of being desired, to be chased, it was invigorating.

It was in all honesty refreshing.

As you placed your phone back face down on the side table, there was a level on anticipation to be found, even if it was late; knowing you were gonna see him tomorrow and that you’d had a pair of jeans hanging on your door along with the stetson your father had just let you keep.

Everything coming together made it hard to sleep at all.

With your father’s agreeance to drop you off at the rodeo, even if he wasn’t attending himself this time, he’d seemed please you were taking the initiative to go somewhere by yourself, musing about how he’d been invited to a poker night with some friends anyway.

Assuring that he’d have his phone on the entire time if you needed anything, he’d waved goodbye to you from the window of his truck, a pleased smile on his face.

The task of actually weaving through the crowds was daunting at first, but slowly you became used to the feeling of turning your body from side to side as you progressed forward, allowing yourself to move in the same rhythm as everyone around you.

There was definitely so much to see that had changed since when you used to go to the rodeo as a kid, more games for the kids set up, so many more different food options available, it was a weird, but not unwelcome change in the slightest.

Watching a group of kids throwing darts at the balloons set up on the wall in front of them, it was hard not to smile, your arms crossing over your chest and watching one of the smallest ones lining up their shot, concentration clearly ethched on his chubby little face, before he threw, a pop sounding out as he cheered with his friends.

Well that was just a little bit adorable huh.

Pulling your purse tighter to your shoulder, you’d hoped your choice of outfit was plain enough so as to not stand out hugely, the denim flare’s on your legs paired with a slightly cropped tee, simple enough, you’d hoped.

The smell of all the fried food only became more tempting the closer you got, being reminded of one of the reasons you’d even come out to the rodeo by yourself in the first place.

You kept your eyes peeled, trying to remember Niki’s description of the food truck that he’d shared over text, as well as a rough idea of where it’d be parked.

It was the bright yellow that initially caught your eye, followed by the small line following to the window lit up by fluorescent white light, only to finally land on Niki, there, in all his glory, a short sleeved grey shirt and apron around his neck.

He seemed so swept up by orders, handing food out of the window and yelling out orders with each docket printing out seemingly at an unforgiving pace.

You recognised his father, along with one other stranger, likely just another cook that worked at the restaurant, grilling away, working at a pace that made you nervous on their behalf.

Smiling to yourself, you approached patiently, waiting for the line to go down until you eventually got to the front, the anticipation killing you each time you’d step forward.

Just as professional as always, you heard Niki yell out a quick “Just one second!” as he hadn’t turned his head to look at you yet, punching an order into an ipad with the concentration of a nuerosurgeon.

When he’d finally looked down at you, you’re smile greeting him, it was quickly reciprocated, his eyes widening as he leaned forward slightly out of the window.

“Hey you! You made it!” he started, turning to look at the dockets printed and hanging above the grill, seemingly checking to see how it was all travelling before he turned back to you.

“If you give me like, five minutes, ill come out and hang, just gotta wait for the rush to finish.”

He was so sweet about it, seeming apologetic as if you weren’t the one he was preparing to halt his work for. Nodding, you gave him a thumbs up, going to turn before you heard his voice once more.

“Pendeja!” he yelled with a laugh, shaking his head when you turned back around “what do you want?” he enquired, gesturing to the chalk board on the side of the truck “on the house.”

“Niki, no, i can’t-”

Your protest was interrupted by a wave of his hand.

“Shut up and tell me what you want.”

God his smile was so gorgeous, even when he was telling you to shut up.

Letting out a sigh as you tilted your head, it was hard to concentrate on anything written on the chalkboard next to his head.

“Just surprise me.”

Finding a spot to the side was easy enough, settling yourself down on one of the many tables that had been set up as a place to eat, you could only wait in silence, finding yourself unable to do much else aside from checking your phone occasionally, pretending to be interested in the time.

Just as promised, after about five or so minutes, you could Niki arriving from the distance, two plastic plates in his hands, apron now discarded you didn’t know where.

Your arm extended out to wave at him, smiling brightly as he came to sit across from you, sliding the plate of food in front of you.

Only now that he was across from you did you realise that he was also holding two glass bottles under his arm, grabbing them and setting them on the table between the two of you, a satisfied sigh leaving his throat as he gestured to what you now realised was a corona.

“For you.” he spoke, nodding to himself, seemingly not noticing the way your face fell only slightly, still trying your hardest to maintain a smile.

You had absolutely no clue how to actually explain everything, the reason you couldn’t touch anything even slightly alcoholing, on top of how you might explain it to him without making him feel petrified at having offered you a beer of all things.

Opening your mouth to speak, you could only let out a small sound, seemingly having no clue as to how you would phrase it.

Noticing the look on your face, his eyebrows rose, concern seeming to cross over his features as he looked down at the spread he’d brought for you.

It felt rude to decline the drink he’d brought for you, no doubt from the fridge of the food truck himself, even worse if he’d actually bought it for you.

“Everything ok? Is it the food? I didn’t make it if thats what you’re wondering.”

His attempt at brushing it off with humour made you feel better in all honestly, a soft exhale of laughter leaving your lips as you leaned forward and hung your head slightly.

Looking back up, you gave him an apologetic look.

“No, the food looks amazing, it’s just..” part of you felt petrified to even touch the bottle, images of you drunk in the street in heels and a sparkly outfit while paparazzi hounded you coming to mind.

Keeping your voice low, you kept it to a simple “I don’t drink.”

Niki’s eye’s widened, his arm immediately coming out to grip the bottle, pulling it to his end.

“Shit, im so sorry.”

The fact he felt bad for something he didn’t even realise killed you a little, yet he seemed to shift the mood back over pretty quickly, sending you that same grin he’d sported in the bathroom photo.

“More for me.”

As you sat and ate, your discussion seemed to range from an array of different topics, old school memories that you were able to laugh about all the way to him explaining all the different times he’d had to kick people out of the bar.

All good things must come to an end evidently, your stomach sinking a little bit as the topic of yourself was brought back into discussion.

“So how long do you think you’re gonna be back in town for?”

The question was obviously innocent, but it only made that ever present anxiety in the back of your mind grow ten fold. The long answer was that you had no idea, would you just hide out here till you had no career to come back to?

Live off of the royalties of your songs for the rest of your life? Not likely.

As much as you wanted to pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist past this small town, you knew there was still record studio executives waiting on you, of course the timeline of your recovery was in your hands, the scandal could still keep your name in headlines for at least a little while longer.

But eventually you knew in your soul they were going to start pulling out when you started dropping off the charts, fading into obscurity.

In the god’s honest truth you hadn’t even thought about it that deeply yourself.

“Absolutely no clue.” you laughed out, holding your hands up and shrugging your shoulders; you didn’t want to go into the details with Niki, you didn’t really wanna burden anyone with the details really.

“I guess this could be a good place for some inspiration, maybe write some new music while im here.”

You didn’t even know yourself if that was true, the inspiration in you had been long sucked dry, when your team started bringing on ghost writers and producers, assuring you that the money was worth the creative integrity.

Deciding that this conversation was doing probably more harm than good to your inner dialogue, you rose from your seat, gathering up the plastic plates and swinging your purse over your shoulder.

“I think i’m gonna go watch the bull riding.”

It definitely was a little bit rude, but the food had been long finished and you knew that there was only so long Niki’s father was going to tolerate him being away from the truck for so long.

“And you.” pointing a finger at him as he stood, placing his hands in his pockets

“Need to get back and keep helping your father out.”

Holding his hands up in a surrendering manner, he only nodded in agreeance with you, the smirk on his face carrying just as much mischief as it always seemed to.

“Okay, okay. I’ll do what i’m told, but only this time.”

Niki returned the gesture of a finger pointed at you as he began to walk backwards, shaking his head as he looked at you.

“I’ll see you round, Pendeja.”

Watching him turn to jog back around the corner to where the food truck was, you could only let out a small huff.

There was definitely an inner turmoil at play within you, that was for certain.

Niki was such a sweetheart, and clearly there was a mutual attraction shared between the two of you, but the petrifying fear of intimacy within you, much less whatever it was exactly that eas starting to bubble between the two of you, seemed to be taking precedence each time a little bit of progress was made.

Even now as you continued your walk towards the bull riding stands, finding a place to sit inbetween all of the other people that lined up to see some cowboys get flung, you were unable to stop the slight frown from cementing itself on your face.

The idea that you could get in the way of yourself that badly was infuriating, but then the idea of jumping straight into another man’s arms so soon after such a messy breakup was just the same.

Hell, the wound was only about four months healed, you still occasionally saw your ex’s face coming up on old mutual friend’s social media, it was nowhere near enough time to just brush something like that aside, right?

When do you know when it’s because you actually want something like that, and not just yourself desperately seeking out the comfort of trading one man out for another?

As the event began, that same familiar rock music blaring out of the speakers just the same as last time, you occupied yourself with watching men getting flung off of thrashing bull’s backs.

Even then, it’s hard to be distracted by self pity when you’ve got something so absolutely entertaining in front of you.

The stupid rodeo clown was even enough to have a laugh leaving your throat.

As fun as it all was to watch, the universe decided that it was particularly enjoying fucking with you tonight, considering that you’d forgotten one big fundamental detail at the bull riding that was currently on.

That detail, that important little smidgen you’d conveniently forgotten?

Rhett Abbott was coming on next.

It was the first time you’d even heard his name since the restaurant, much less seen him in person, having been so distracted by the prospect of meeting up with Niki, you’d completely forgotten about his existence all together. You tried to force yourself not be invested, truly, wanted to continue the air of not caring if he lived or died, considering that was obviously how he felt about you.

Yet when the horn rang out and you immediately heard the sharp clanging of hooves on metal as the gate was swung open, for some reason you just could not look away.

The bull was relentless, seeming to thrash itself in a change of direction as much as possible, determined to get what i considered to be nothing but an annoying flea off of its rump.

As much as you cursed the ground he walked on, hated the way he looked at you with an air of superiority. God, as much as you hated him for starting the nickname tweety bird in highschool.

It would be a lie to say he wasn’t doing a damn good job. You didn’t have to like him or even particularly enjoy his company to see that.

You could literally hear the cheers of the crowd growing wilder the longer he stayed on the bull for, that anticipation of waiting to see whether or not he’d get flung off before his eight seconds were up.

In some weird way, time seemed to be moving in slow motion, yet ultra fast all at the same time, with every millisecond that you didn’t hear the buzzer making your heart rate increase.

As soon as it rang out, like a choir of angels sent from heaven itself, you let out a breath you didn’t even realise you were holding, letting go of your purse handle which was now sporting little moon shaped indents from how hard you were gripping it.

The roar of the crowd around you was palpable, your silence pertaining more to your absolute shock, your mouth hanging open slightly.

As he finally allowed the bull to shake him off, being helped to his feet hastily by a handler as the rest worked at getting the bull back through the gate, you could see his chest rising and falling even from the distance you were at.

Adrenaline was a powerful thing, you knew that better than anybody, as you watched Rhett Abbott begin to bang on his chest like some sort of primal warrior, it was palpable.

His eye’s scanning the crowd hadn’t initially had you off guard, obviously he was enjoying the resounding response to his victory, continuing to bash his fist against his chest.

Even when his eyes landed on you.

As if set off, seeing you in the crowd, knowing you’d witnessed what just occurred, you weren’t sure if it was ego or something else entirely.

But you could have sworn he was smirking.

With a final bang to his chest, your vision might have been tricking you, but had he just nodded at you, a single, sturt nod before he’d turned to jog back to the gate, jumping it as if it was nothing.

You’re head tilted, eyes widening and brows furrowing.

Exactly what the fuck did he mean by that one?

Whether you were meant to be insulted by that, you had absolutely zero clue, the only thing you were certain of is that whatever it was, it was most certainly meant for you.

Left thoroughly confused by whatever it was that had just been shared between the two of you, you dispersed with the rest of the crowd when the rodeo was swiftly coming to an end.

Now noting the lights from games that were no longer on, as well as the now dwindling number of people around, the show grounds were suddenly seeming a lot quieter.

You were definitely tired, no doubt about that, hell, it was nearing almost midnight.

As much fun as it had been to go out by yourself for the first time in ages, the task you were now faced with of getting home was already proving itself to be a daunting one.

Exiting into the now nearly empty parking lot, you stood by the entrance and pulled out your phone, tapping the name ‘dad’ in your contact list and putting the phone to your ear.

Soft ringing was all that you could hear, feeling your heart drop a little bit as it continued, all the way up until his voice mail began to play.

Sucking in a sharp and nervous breath, you hung up and dialed his number again, waiting with a nervous breath, reassuring yourself that he’d probably just put his phone down somewhere and that any minute now he’d pick up.

Yet as his voicemail continued once more, you already felt a lump in your throat as panic began to set in.

Trying two more times evidently wasn’t a big help, doing absolutely nothing to remedy yourself.

Pacing back and fourth by the entrance was doing little for you, running your free hand along the seamline of your jeans not helping in the slightest as your heart beat hammered in your own head. As your own thoughts began to get to you more and more, you subsided in your attempts to call your father, nothing the fifteen percent battery life left on your phone, if he tried to call you back, a flat phone would do absolutely no good.

Yet as about ten more minutes passed, no buzzing from your phone, you were now cursing softly to yourself, feeling tears prick in the corner of your eyes as you rummaged around in your purse for some sort of miracle, anything to feel like you were doing something other than just standing there about to cry.

“What the hell are you still doin’ here?”

Initially, you jumped at the sound of a voice behind you, turning to see who it was however, only made you want to sink further and further into your little pity party.

“Fuck off, Rhett. I really don’t need this right now.”

Any attempt to hide the way your voice wobbled was futile, turning your head up to the sky to try and blink your tears out of existence as you let out a shaky exhale.

“Hey, fuck you. I was just checkin’ to see if you were okay. Christ, don’t worry about it.”

His response only made your lip wobble more, your head hanging as you heard him walk past you, the gravel crunching under his boots, growing softer as he walked towards his truck.

Desperation was a powerful thing, top it off with you on the verge of a panic attack wondering how the hell you’re going to get home that doesn’t involve walking and becoming coyote food.

“Rhett, i’m sorry.” you wobbled out, the sound seeming to stop the cowboy in his tracks, duffel bag hanging off his shoulder as he turned to watch you walk towards him.

“Please, I know you fuckin’ hate me and god knows I don’t know why. But I can’t get home, my dad was supposed to pick me up and he’s not answering me.”

Almost as if you could quite literally see him deliberating, he looked across at you, your puffy eyes and wobbling lip seeming to be enough to appeal to his better nature, whatever the beef seemingly shared between the two of you.

“Fuck sake..” he whispered to himself, letting out a huff as he unlocked his truck and opened the driver side door. “Get in.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, you scurried around to the passenger side of his truck, opening the door and moving a few things off of the passenger seat before sitting down and closing the door.

Trying to compose yourself as he got in next to you and shut his own door, you could hardly even focus on how you were now sitting in the truck of a man you apparently hated.

“I can’t take you to your pa’s place.” he started, his tone already laced with annoyance at the predicament he had found himself in and somehow agreed to.

As he spoke, you waited him to finish, already not loving the idea of not being in your own bed tonight, but anything was better than being stranded out here at night.

“It’s the exact opposite of where I live and I’m fucking exhausted.”

You couldn’t blame him in that regard, you were just as tired if not more, feeling as if you could even fall asleep on these seats, as uncomfortable as they were.

“But, I have a pullout couch you can crash on, just don’t make too much fuckin’ noise and i’ll take you home in the morning, gotta head out that way anyway.”

Nodding, you were in no position to say otherwise, and you knew you were already on thin ice anyway, arguing against him could result in him rescinding his offer of transport all together.

“Ok.” you spoke, trying to calm yourself down and relax knowing you were gonna be safe for the night “I’ll be quiet as a mouse, you won’t even know i’m there i promise-”

As you spoke, he sent you what could only be described as a warning look, tired and exhausted eye’s telling you all that you needed to know.

“Starting now.” you finished, buckling you seat belt and keeping your gaze out the window as his truck pulled out of the parking lot.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 : @foreverchangingmind . @tsukikyo . @marsupialnoises . @iknowrocknroll . @astromilku .

#bob thunderbolts #lewis pullman #lewis pullman fic #lewis pullman x reader #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott #robert reynolds #bob reynolds x reader #outer range fanfic #rhett abbott x you #outer range #rhett abbot

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ravenstargames · 2 months ago

Text

✦ LOST IN LIMBO DEVLOG #18 | 05.02.2025

Phew. Brace yourselves—this one is packed, so let's have a bullet list for those who don't want to read me yapping for another month!

Extended Demo: Prologue backgrounds done! ✨

All the new sprites for the LIs and their expressions are done and coded! ✨

The Prologue script is done and ready to be proofreaded, with more than 36k extra words! ✨

Extended Demo: Prologue tracks are done! ✨

New QOL features added!

Achievements coded!

Concept art phase started on Evie!

First of all, let's talk Extended Demo! We can confirm our first update with the new sprites and some new features will come not in June, but in May! :^) We'll set a date pretty soon; even if it's not the juicy major update you're waiting for, we hope you are looking forward to it!

As for the CHUNK of it all, the new prologue, that'll have to wait a bit more. We want to wait until we can give y'all a precise date before saying anything, but know work is going well. Sadly, we have decided not to join Steam's Next Fest this time around as the big update won't be coming until a bit more later. Let's see it!

A very professional graphic, you see! Our...roadmapish graphic with no dates because we'd rather not make promises we can't keep!

So, first of all, our first big big update, version 2.0, will come this year. Version 2.0 will include the new prologue, which features you can see listed on the right. There's more, but we have listed only the juiciest stuff. Our Kickstarter Beta Access Backers will receive the first build of the update (without any major bugs), and once they deem it ready, it'll be sent to our Kickstarter Early Access backers. Then, boom! To the world!

This update will pave the path for the first chapter of every route, something we want to offer for free, as you may remember. First will be Amon (v2.1), then Gael(v2.2), Raeya, Envy, Ara, Xal, and Pride. Then, we'll work on two routes simultaneously (script wise) but prioritize one. That means we'll work on Gael's route while working on Amon's, but Amon's will have priority. After every chapter of every route is out, no more free / public updates will be done until final release. We'll enter public early access for those who want to pay for it. Of course, our Kickstarter Beta and Early Access will have all the content before it goes public.

After our first big update, we'll open a Patreon as some of you have suggested to keep investing in the game and maybe, if things go well, to start supporting ourselves :^) You'll be able to enjoy special content, updates, and get Early Access to the game's progress (at a price we'll discuss with our backers first to make it fair for them. Please keep in mind our Kickstarter Backers will have priority on everything!).

Now, changes in the workload / responsibilities have been made after analyzing Raquel's new situation and it becoming a (for now) permanent part in her life.

To compensate for the amount of work Raquel won't realistically be able to pull of, we've decided to officially have Airyn work on our concept and character art as well. If we want the development of the game to keep going steadily, we have to put our (and your) money to good use. Don't worry, we've mathed hard and we've got the funds for it! Our composer has already been paid for our original soundtrack (our first and only stretch goal!), so that and other stuff are secured :^).

As of today, the new sprites and the new expressions of all our LI's are done and coded! Also, Raquel has implemented the fixes you all suggested for our dear dad. Tree Pride is no more, the golden accents are yellower, and the original tone of the gauntlets is back! Also his head tilt and his smile have made a comeback, as y'all wanted!

Thanks to Raquel for her hard work, all the sprites are ready for our first update!

Also, work on Evie's concept art has started! Our Kickstarter folks will get a sneak peek of some sketches, so you folks will have to wait a bit to see her! In addition, Astro has begun working on more voidbound, so you can encounter more versions of them instead of just voidbound-chan! :^)

All the backgrounds for the Prologue of the Extended Demo are done!! ✨And animated, by the way!

Now, as Airyn will be helping us with the characters, we will have to halt work on the backgrounds for a little while. After the Prologue come Amon and Gael's first chapter, and those will include a lot of new locations, and we'll have to dedicate some time to properly flesh out the aesthetics for both routes. During this small break, I'll properly design the moodboards to give to Astro and Airyn as soon as the new characters are done :^)!

The writing for the Extended Demo: Prologue is done. DONE. I'M DONE.

Originally the new prologue was going to be 20k extra words, buuuut we are sitting at 36k extra. Our editor Allie side-eyed me a bit (with love), and we both know some chopping may be done because I tend to write above my possibilities. So, now we are entering the "this could've been an email" phase. I hope the wait for the first update of the Extended Demo is worth it—I think it'll be, but you'll be the ones to judge!

I've, obviously, been programming the new sprites, as well as the bones of what will be our Achievements section, again thanks to beloved Feniks who has a tool for this in Ren'Py. Achievements won't be coming until our big update, but I want to get the jist of it with enough time!

I also have been battling the code to make it so those of you who turn off the Timed choices know easily when there's a timed choice and when a choice is...well, not timed. Timed choices will have a cute little hourglass on each side! Also, a lot of miscellania like adding Tomás in our credits, revisiting the game to make sure the sprites work accordingly, changing the gallery graphics so they match the new sprites, and so on!

New art has been added to the artbook, and our manufacturer has finally given us a date in which our pins will be done! That's more relevant to our Kickstarter backers, so more about that in there. Kayden is still working on a bunch of mini CG's, as per usual!

Soundtrack wise, Tomás has delivered even more than we needed for our first big update—instead of only two tracks, we now have four original tracks that will be added to our big update! They are finished, cleaned, and ready to go. And let me tell you, they're absolutely breathtaking :`)

April has also been the month to fight taxes, the government, and our own counselor. We even had a big scare with a bunch of oopsies that surprisingly weren't our fault, but that's solved now!

As for our personal lives, I've been fighting the demons of my PhD courses and trying not to cry when faced with math (I failed). Astro has made some big decisions about the course of his life that we see as something positive, Raquel is feeling the pressure of her irl work and wanting to give more to LiL, and Kayden is existing peacefully. Damn I hate that guy /j.

Oh, also, Airyn is very happy to be able to help us a bit more. She's also been working a lot on different stuff (not only for us!), so send good vibes her way!

Somehow this devlog doesn't feel like a lot????? And we did a lot of stuff! Progress is going great!

I guess we are feeling a bit down because the first big update won't make it to this June. We were giving it our all, but even with Airyn's official help, we don't dare to say it'll be ready for June. You always feel like a...not pressure, but duty? To give a date (even if it's just an approximate one) but we'd rather not this time around. Let's just see how everything flows while giving it our all.

That being said, I'm headed to get some rest! I hope you all are doing alright, and as always, thank you so much for the support, the kindness, and everything else 💜

#lost in limbo #visual novel #otome #indiedev #devlog

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spacexgrl · 6 months ago

Text

Bittersweet ! 💋

mdni <3 you’re here pt 8

series masterlist 🍒

~ in which Ellie breaks up with you and you go a little crazy ~

ex! ellie williams x fem! reader , abby anderson x fem! reader

college au!

warnings: SMUT!!! angst, break up, cheating,cursing, toxic behavior, smut in future chapters, sexual themes<3 feminine and girly reader ,not proof read!!

taglist: pls comment if you want to be added! <3 @elliessweetheart @lonelyfooryouonly @vamp1reg1rrrl @autisticintr0vert @amsxdoll @addthespaghetti @hemmo01 @elliecoochieeater @to-the-stray-dogs @teenagemoonharmony @velvetcakegirlie @kl1q @cirrusdoll @icedsimpsayo @softrosekisses @bbnbhm @5sos @hopelesssheaven @gingerpines

The short drive to the restaurant was so fucking shitty already oh and don’t get her started on the fight that ellie had with dina while getting ready. She recalled that annoying voice of her girlfriend screaming and nagging at her for her outfit even though it was the most formal thing she owned…it had a meaning also but dina absolutely hated it ellie are you serious? you can’t wear that it’s like 40 years old what will my family think?! Ellie rolled her eyes and ignored her comments, she didn’t give a flying fuck it was a perfectly fine outfit and she looked so good in her newest pair of black pants, a white button up shirt and Joel’s old jacket that he gifted Ellie because it didn’t fit him anymore..(it was from his young years he saved it for her!)

she remembered when you surprised her with sewing it tighter so it fit her properly! She can’t stop looking at the small detail you also left for her..your initials sewed on the inside of her right sleeve by her wrist..in a delicate baby blue color..she let out a heavy sigh on the passenger seat of dina’s car, her head glued on the window not daring to take a look at her girlfriend..she insisted on driving not wanting her family to see her get into Joel’s beat up truck ellie please i’ll drive..not planning to drink anyway..my family can’t see me get into your old ass truck at this point ellie just accepted that she’ll never meet the expectations of her girlfriends family..thank god dina’s driving because ellie would’ve driven into a tree on full speed wouldn’t survive without a drink or two..

that’s when her mind wandered to her first meeting with your parents it was a hot summer night you and ellie spent the entire day outside got some ice cream and forced ellie to tan with you..which resulted in a big sunburn on her back..it was painful as fuck but she didn’t care because she just had so much fun with you besides you took care of her sunburn for the next few days so she didn’t complain…later that day you invited her for dinner with your family it was a barbecue in your backyard your dad busy with everything that was on the grill he always placed extra meat on ellie’s plate so she can get big and strong as she commented that she just started working out..your mom giggled don’t eat too much from the grill i still have dessert in the fridge! and it was the best tiramisu she’s ever eaten in her entire life

..that night she also stayed at your house..you stayed up until you could see the beautiful sunrise from your balcony..your eyes were glued to the beautiful scenery in front of you but ellie’s eyes never left you..the way the sunlight kissed your nose and spread all over your face making you look like the angel you were and still are today..if the sun was a person it would always be you. ellie look the sunrise is so pretty! your smile almost blinded her because it was so beautiful and bright under the golden light..yeah it’s pretty..but you’re prettier…

Ellie woke up from her daydream as dina parked the car, heart heavy in her chest as she replayed the memories of you in her head..rethinking about what she could’ve had if she hadn’t been a total asshole..in moments like these she’d smoke a blunt or/and ‘pop’ an edible as she’d always say..(depending on how horrible she’s feeling) ever since you broke up her consumption habits have increased..she couldn’t even remember the last day that she was fully sober..but she wanted to make a good first impression today right? she regretted staying sober so bad

Ellie and Dina got into the restaurant silently, the friendly waiter walked them to their table with freshly baked bread, olive oil and red wine vinegar..ellie munched mindlessly on a piece of bread and burned her tongue while they waited for her family to arrive, still in complete silence…as she was about to give some lame ass excuse to go outside to smoke an emergency cigarette she had in her pockets (just in case she needed to calm herself down) Dina’s family arrived , not noticing you and abby right behind them.

here goes nothing

💫

you were blown away by the restaurant, you couldn’t even believe that it was a real place..it was on the highest floor of a tall building surrounded by big windows allowing you to see your city from above..you could see every single light and movement of the night it was really beautiful.

“ahh yes miss anderson! It’s a pleasure to have you and your beautiful lady here, please follow me i’ll lead you to your table.”

you and abby thanked him and took a seat.

“would you like a bottle of our finest vino tinto? i can also get you champagne or something from our variation of cocktails?”

both of you looked through the menu and decided that you wanted to share an appetizer, then you moved on to the main course, convincing abby to choose something you wanted to try too so you can share.

“i’m the driver today so i’ll take a sparkling water with lemon please and no dessert for me”

the waiter nodded as he selected her choices on his electronic device then he turned in your direction.

“i’ll take a frozen strawberry daiquiri and a matcha crème brûlée for dessert please”

he thanked you two and moved on to the other tables.

Ellie’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets by her starstruck expression as she spotted you and anderson. The way you held onto her bicep as you walked to your table made her blood boil, the fake smile she put on her face fell almost immediately. The fact that you looked like a model in your pretty dress and obviously new designer shoes didn’t make it any better. You looked like someone out of a movie..you looked like abby’s trophy wife and it hurt so fucking bad how perfect you looked together.

Ellie’s sadness quickly turned into pure disgusting jealousy as abby pulled her sleeves up to her elbows, exposing her obnoxiously shiny rolex and her stupid toned and veiny underarms. She observed how you drooled over her, biting your lip and giving her those bedroom eyes Ellie used to receive…as if you’d fuck her right there and then and she hated it she hated every second of it..

or did she?

Ellie started losing herself in her thoughts again..the voices of dina and her family slowly fading away as her mind wandered while her eyes were focused on you..suddenly you stood up and climbed onto the table, now you were on all fours moving towards abby until you were eye to eye with your noses touching..abby was already unbuttoning her shirt, exposing her chest.. the way you arched your back made her head spin it only got worse as you proceeded to crash your lips on abby‘s, devouring her mouth with your wet tongue while biting and sucking on her lower lip..

you let go of her and got on the ground again, you slipped your dress right off of your shoulders..red fabric pooling right by your ankles leaving you in nothing but your expensive designer heels. Ellie was a drooling mess she could cum from the sight alone..jesus fuck she cursed under her breath as you undressed abby, revealing her big navy strap on underneath her slacks..she took a seat on the table with you on top of her facing your backside..her rough hands grabbed onto your waist and picked you up..hovering your asshole on top of her lubed up cock..giving ellie a perfect view of your fucked out face while spreading your legs open..your dripping pussy on perfect display.

“abby fuck my ass please! yesyes fuck just like that-ah!” you begged for abby as she lowered your body down on her length..your tight walls swallowing her whole as she moved you up and down..Ellie’s eyes almost missed the way you mouthed ‘come here’ as she ogled your bouncing tits…your pornographic moans filled the entire room but the other guests acted like you weren’t there..Ellie didn’t give a fuck she needed to be inside you now..she hurriedly got up from her chair and undressed immediately on her short way to your table where you were being fucked in the ass by abby..as she unbuttoned her pants she revealed the strap she was suddenly wearing herself..it’s so thick and your favorite shade of pink..god she remembered how much you loved it when she fucked you with that one..ellie positioned herself in between yours and abby’s spread legs..she teased your drooling hole with her tip and grabbed your jaw “beg for me slut” your eyes proceed to water yes you loved the way abby split your ass open but you needed ellie you needed more “ellie baby please fuck my pussy! a-ah i’ll do anything just stuff me daddy!”

your breath hitched when ellie held both of your legs open as she slammed her hips into your cunt..every time her fat tip dragged across your sweet spot you could see stars the sensation of your holes being abused and filled at the same time sent you into an entire different dimension you were about to squirt everywhere if they kept going like this!!

“god ellie just like that! so fucking good baby! gonna cum so hard oh-!”

she loved when you screamed her name

“ellie! ellie!”

you sneaked your arms around her neck and pulled her into a heated kiss, teeth colliding as you tried to kiss her harder and harder while the familiar sensation of an orgasm approached

“ellie ‘m gonna-“

snap!

“earth to ellie? your food’s getting cold”

Ellie woke up from her second daydream of the day with uncomfortably drenched boxers as dina snapped her fingers in her face, seemingly disappointed in her girlfriend’s inattentive and distracted behavior..she quickly figured that it had to do with you..of fucking course it’s always your fault for appearing in the same places as ellie all the damn time..dina rolled her eyes as she looked in your direction nausea creeping up from her stomach as she studied how flawlessly perfect you looked..there’s no way ellie could get over you..the sting of jealousy that appeared on her heart was starting to turn into defeat..not knowing how long she can put up with ellie anymore ..she loved her she truly did but there’s just no way that ellie could love her the way she loves you..and deep down she knows that you’re not one to blame..dina wants to despise you so fucking bad but she can’t..she was the reason why your relationship with ellie fell apart after all and she’s developing feelings of pure guilt..she wished she could apologize to you but she’ll never have the guts to do so..and to be completely honest? you don’t want to hear shit out of her fucking mouth because it’s not her job to clean up after ellie’s mistakes..you’re not having any of that.

“yeah sorry needed to let it cool down for a bit”

ellie said quietly while taking a bite of her cold ass food..following with an extremely awkward silence until talia picked up a conversation with her again..eager to know all about her sister’s new lover girl..praying that she could be the one for her..

if she only knew..

💫

you and abby had a fantastic night..your meals were absolutely delicious but the cocktails were definitely your favorites! you were on number three by now abby noticed that you got more chatty the more alcohol you consumed and she found it really cute..she could stare at you and listen to your random rambling for hours to no end..right now you were telling her about you dream designer bags she had her phone by her lap and put them into her shopping cart to surprise you with two or three bags soon..she prayed to god that her dad wasn’t checking her bank account history..

“wanna head back home, baby? i’m craving some dessert right now..”

🎀

pt 9

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