#aw it’s okay 💓

[aajjks]

tutor!jungkookie you can’t come jungkookie, this is a girls thing! i-i just mean like… i asked her to go, i didn’t ask you… just like you asked her to go to the movies and not me. it’s something you want for just the two of you right? well i want this for the two of us! it’s weird i want to get to know you? i-i-why do you say that? you’re the one who said she was amazing and i trust your judgment kookie… besides i may have been way wrong about her, she just must be so… amazing for you to like her this much… plus i love horror stuff too! all the blood… mysterious things… the fear, it’ll be fun for us two to bond over this! i promise you and i can go and do something paranormal or horror themed but not this time!

totally didn’t delete my rant to that bitch anon just to put my energy into something that’s soooo much better! or maybe i did? who knows

Well Sana, that is very sad make me sad you know but I guess I cannot do anything about it. I wish I was a girl I never mind I did not say that hahahha… I think I’m going crazy I do like her so much she’s just amazing isn’t she?  And I am sorry if I hurt your feelings, but I hope you can see just how much I like her… I hope we can work it out, she is my dream girl you know? Fuck, I really want to come too… Oh, you sound a little haha, creepy? But I guess you can take her just take care of her okay? She’s really precious to me. okay, I guess I gotta go now bye-bye”

[hugsqueeze]

EVERYONE. EMERGENCY ALERT: IT'S GIRTHDAY AGAINNNNN YAYYYYYYYY 🌎🌈🌈💓💓💗💕💕💕💕💕💗💗🌈🌈🌈🩷🩷🩷👹👹👹🔥🔥‼️‼️‼️‼️ *STARTS TEARING THE ROOFS OFF OF HOUSES AND THROWING THEM INTO ORBIT AT SPEEDS SO FAST AND DANGEROUS THAT THEY COLLIDE INTO PLANETS AND INSTANTLY OBLITERATE THEM* HIIIII HAPPY GIRTHDAY TO THE ALWAYS UNENDINGLY EPIC AND BEST OF ALL TIME: @chalkpaste !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 👈‼️‼️‼️ HAPPY BIRTHDAY GIRTHWORMMMM ^_^ OMG AUGH I SUPER hope you had the most AMAZING and PROSPEROUS of days today ☝️ I hope that your birthday has been as swagful and delightful and lovely and life changing as you are YAYYYY *SPINS WITH YOU* 💕💕🌎🌈🌈🌈

[Bonus slightly alternate coloring under da cut + a (comically bad) first draft for fun]

Here's the slightly different version that I promised (base colors/no filter *smiles*)!

& OKAY I REALLY ALSO WANTED TO INCLUDE THIS BECAUSE I THOUGHT IT WAS (sort of 😭) FUNNY, but I was at work last week thinking about what I wanted to draw -> For Girthworm Birthday and I sketched out . This. On a sticky note LOLLL. Wow. Almost incomprehensible 👍

[silent-sentinels]

wait really?? oh aight! [claps] so!! we have a scabbardmate named Harlowe! xe lives in xir observatory by xirself on xir hill. xe likes a darker starry aesthetic than us, and xe prefers real astronomy and irl galaxies, unlike me n lili who like the cutesy lil five-pointed guys lmao hkgjh

🌟 prefers keeping 🌟 distance and often keeps to 🌟self, but we still love 🌟 anyway!! <333 we may have our disagreements with 🌟 sometimes, but 🌟's still a very important part of our system :> <33

hows that? :]

Thank you. We'll see. For now you may add them to my list.

ayyy multi pronoun user welcome to the club ma'am >:3!!!

Mmhm. Carry on now.

[lewisvinga]

fuck it | daniel ricciardo x fem! reader x max verstappen !

summary; what happens when people don’t get the hint after soft launching? you hard launch

fc; various girls on pinterest

warnings; cursing, one suggestive comment i think uhmmm

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1

note; requested !

masterlist !

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yourusername uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; never nap on a plane w these two bc then you’ll wake up to 237 photos of them 🥸🥸] [caption 2; happy new years from me n my boys 🌷💗🎉]

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liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo, and others !

yourusername: 3 yrs & counting of loving my boys. happy anniversary to my favorite boys💓

tagged; maxverstappen1, danielricciardo

danielricciardo: awe shucks ☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️

danielricciardo: i love you , my pretty lady ❤️

yourusername: i love you, my sweetheart 🙁🫶

danielricciardo: i suggested this hard launch btw

maxverstappen1: NO I DID???? MY MESSAGE WASN’T SENDINGGG😒😒

yourusername: both of your big brains came up w the idea okay guys 🙄🙄

maxverstappen1: happy anniversary, schat , i love you, both of you🩵🩵

yourusername: 🥹🥹i love you sm🫶

danielricciardo: u weren’t saying that when i beat you in paddle 😒

maxverstappen1: 🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬

username: THEY’RE ALL DATING??

username: oomf was right saying they’d look good as a couple…

username: tears they’ve been trying to soft launch only for all of us to think they’re friends 😭😭😭😭

username: a throuple???

username: yall need a dog? i can bark😁😁😁😁

username: holy shit THEYRE ALL DATIMG

username: whatta fine couple

username: i wanna be in between them fr

username: wait the 3rd pic is kinda a slay

username: she said walk ‘em like a dog🙈🙈 liked by yourusername!

username: OMG SHE LIKED

username: the last photo 😭 wonder what y/n and max were scolding daniel abt 💀

danielricciardo: what WEREN’T they scolding me abt

maxverstappen1: you don’t wanna know

yourusername: we were scolding him abt anything n everything … ( he likes it )

[tpwk-formula1]

hii can i order a sicilian crust with red sauce with sausage, olives, roasted artichokes, spinach, salami, buratta, rossted asparagus. with water and some sprite. no dessert. served by ollie bearman and kimi antonelli 🫡 if its not too much, thank youuu💓💓💓

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

sicilian crust dating red sauce rough sex sausage "Better not waste a drop" olives "Swallow every last bit. NOW!" roasted artichokes “im gonna put a baby in you” spinach "Awe I love to know I stretched you out just enough to take all my cock" salami "Such a little cum slut" burrata "How many was that? three... I think you can give me another" roasted asparagus "Stop trying to get away. Just be a good girl and take it" water breeding kink sprite size kink dessert no served by Kimi and Ollie

Kimi x Ollie x reader

AN - Okay so I did age the boys up just a bit just so they're already in F1 full time! This is their 2nd or 3rd season, that parts not too important.

TW - breeding kink, lots of creampies, multiple orgasms, slight MxM (kissing)

WC 1800+

Y/N POV

"Kimi I need you and Ollie please," I whisper against my boyfriend's ear as we sit next to each other while we eat dinner with some of the grid after the first race of the new season.

"Okay, we'll head home soon. I think it's starting to wrap up," Kimi responds while leaning down to kiss the side of my head softly. Ollie's hand is still on my thigh on the other side teasing me making everything more difficult.

"Ollie, please stop, I can't take it anymore," I whisper into my other boyfriend's ear.

"We're almost done, you can handle a few more minutes of teasing. Have we spoiled you so much you can't even handle being teased anymore?" Ollie questions with a raised brow making me whine softly and shake my head no even though truth be told Kimi and Ollie had spoiled me over the years making it more difficult to sit through their teasing touches.

When we finally left we get into the car and I sit in the back with Kimi while Ollie was driving us back.

"Can I please kiss Kimi?" I ask Ollie knowing I need permission for both men before I can't do anything. Ollie looks at us through the rear view mirror before giving us a little nod.

"Please," I whisper to Kimi making him smile and pull me in for a kiss.

"Fuck, taste like that expensive wine Carmen kept serving you," Kimi groans against my lips referring to the wine his teammate's girlfriend and I had been sharing all night.

"I need you in me please," I whine against his lips making him laugh and shake his head.

"Soon enough, amour," Kimi tells me as we pull up to the Monaco apartment.

When we finally get into the apartment Ollie is pulling me in almost instantly and placing his lips on mine.

“I'm gonna put a baby in you tonight," Ollie groans against my lips while his hands trail down to my waist where he pulls me in closer letting me feel how hard he is through his brown slacks he had worn to dinner tonight.

"Ollie please, need you so bad. Need both of you so bad," I whimper against his lips.

"We'll take care of you, patience pretty girl," Ollie replies back before picking me up and letting my legs wrap around his waist so he can carry me into our room where he drops me on the bed and Kimi is on me within seconds. Kimi had already stripped down into just his boxers so I was able to run my nails over his bare shoulders.

"Fuck, been thinking about fucking you all night," Kimi groans against my lips as Ollie strips out of his clothes just left in a pair of boxers. Kimi makes quick work of pulling my dress off leaving me in just my bra and panties which are both gone within moments. Once I was completely bare under Kimi Ollie climbs into the bed and angles my head to take his length into my mouth while Kimi brings his mouth down to my clit making me moan around Ollie's cock.

"Fuck," Ollie groans when I start bobbing my head the best I can. Ollie can tell I was struggling which had him getting up onto his knees and then flipping my body over which had me on my hands and knees for both the men. I waste no time in taking Ollie back into my mouth while he grips into my hair and starts face fucking me making me choke on gags and moans while Kimi continues to eat me out.

I'm so lost in pleasuring Ollie I don't even notice Kimi had stopped pleasuring my pussy until he's pushing his massive length deep into my pussy.

"Oh fuck," I moan loudly around Ollie's cock making him hiss at the added vibration before pulling me off his cock to let me adjust to the new sensations coursing through my body.

"Fuck," I moan loudly before bringing my face back down to Ollie's cock and letting him start thrusting back into my mouth.

"Fanculo," Kimi grunts in Italian making me clench around him loving to hear him speak his native language.

"l- I'm not gonna last long," Kimi grunts out as his hips start to falter slightly.

"Fuck, fill her up," Ollie grunts holding himself back from unloading his cum into my mouth.

"Fuck," Kimi grunts as his thrusts start to slow down slightly before he sends on final thrust deep into my pussy before unleashing a hot load deep into my pussy making me whimper when I feel his cum hitting the gummy walls of my tight pussy.

"Fuck, she didn't finish," Kimi says clearly upset.

"She's holding back, I can tell. Finger her until she cums," Ollie tells Kimi while I still have my mouth stuffed with Ollie's cock which is quickly removed when I start screaming due to Kimi's fast and relentless fingers fucking into me.

"Fuck, I'm cumming," I cry out when I feel the orgasm I had wanted all night finally unleash.

"Fuck," I cry again when I feel myself start squirting all over Kimi's fingers having a double orgasm.

"Fuck, she cums so well for you," Ollie grunts while pulling Kimi in for a quick kiss while they trade places.

"Fuck, Ollie," I moan when Ollie slips deep into my pussy giving me no time to adjust to his size. Ollie was bigger than Kimi, not that Kimi was small by any means but when Ollie pushes into me even after Kimi has fucked me I can still feel the burn of being stretched out.

"Awe I love to know I stretched you out just enough to take all my cock," Ollie grunts out while thrusting his hips into mine.

Kimi is sitting in front of me letting me rest my head on his thigh while Ollie continues to fuck into me.

"Fuck, Oliver," I moan loudly which has Kimi looking down at me with a smirk knowing I only called them their full names when I was mad or so lost in pleasure I could barely think.

"She's so fucking blissed out right now," Kimi says with a smirk while softly stroking my face with his finger.

"I'm gonna cum again," I whisper softly through moans.

"Cum for Ollie," Kimi tells me softly while Ollie speeds up his thrusts.

"Fuck," I cry when my third orgasm hits me almost making me collapse onto the bed but Ollie holds me up by my hips.

"Get Kimi hard again," Ollie grunts clearly getting close to his orgasm.

"Don't fucking cum Kimi, we're filling her up tonight," Ollie grunts which quick has Kimi taking my hair into his hands before leaning down slightly and spitting into my open mouth.

"Swallow every last bit. NOW!" Kimi grunts roughly making me swallow instantly before his length was shoved into my mouth making me whimper while I feel Ollie's hips shudder slightly before unleashing another load into my abused pussy.

"She's so good for us," Kimi grunts as I work my mouth on his hardening length. I feel Ollie slowly slipping his cock out of my pussy before sending down a harsh slap on my ass making me jump and whimper at the sudden pain.

"Better not waste a drop," Ollie says while shoving his fingers into my pussy and pushing his and Kimi's cum back into my pussy making me whimper at how rough he is being. "Such a little cum slut," Ollie adds making me whimper when I feel his fingers graze my swollen G-spot.

"You ready for her Kimi?" Ollie asks softly while making his way over to where Kimi was currently fucking my mouth.

"Fanculo, ya," Kimi grunts while pulling me off his cock and moving behind me while Ollie takes Kimi's place once again.

"Doing so well for us tonight, been such a good girl," Ollie tells me before leaning down and kissing me softly before he sits down in front of me.

"Fuck Kimi," I moan while trying to crawl away just from feeling the tip of his cock pushing into me.

"Too much," I cry as he pulls me back onto his cock.

"Stop trying to get away. Just be a good girl and take it," Kimi grunts while starting to fuck into my overstimulated pussy.

"Fuck," I cry when I feel another orgasm start to build again.

"I'm gonna cum," I moan loudly which has Kimi speeding up his thrusts pulling another squirting orgasm out of me.

"Fuck," I cry out while still cumming all over Kimi's cock.

"Fanculo," Kimi grunts one last time before thrusting one final time and cumming deep into my pussy again.

"I can't doing anymore please," I say softly while letting my body collapse against the mattress.

"How many was that? three... I think we're gonna give you another" Ollie says softly while Kimi picks up my body and turns me around so Ollie can take me in missionary.

"How are you going again," I ask more stunned he was ready to go again.

"Watching you cum for us is the easier turn on possible," Ollie whispers against my lips before placing a kiss on them then moving to Kimi and placing a softly kiss on his lips.

I'm sitting in Kimi's outstretched legs relaxing my back against his chest while his arms are wrapped around my hips in a soothing comfort.

"Can we give you one more love?" Ollie asks being serious knowing my body was exhausted.

"No more after," I state sternly looking up at Ollie making him smile and nod.

"No more, but fuck we wanna see you swell with our babies," Ollie replies back making me smile softly.

"Oh Ollie," I moan when I feel the tip of his cock slip into my overused pussy. Being as sensitive as I was Ollie stretching me out right now is extremely overwhelming but I would be lying if I said I didn't love it when they got like this.

"Fuck," Ollie grunts as he starts thrusting into my pussy making me whimper at the overstimulation.

I feel Kimi bring his fingers down to my clit giving them a gentle rub making me scream out and instantly start cumming all over Ollie's cock.

"Fuck, I forgot how sensitive she was," Kimi says moving his fingers away not wanting to make the pleasure too much.

"Hold me please," I cry out making Kimi instantly tighten his grip around my waist knowing I need help staying grounded.

"Fuck, I'm cumming," Ollie grunts leaning down and kissing me as he unleashes another massive load deep into my pussy.

"Please no more," I cry out again turning my body into Kimi's chest letting him pull me up into his lap so I can cuddle into his chest.

"We're done, did so good for us," Kimi whispers against my head before moving me to look up at him as he places a soft kiss on my lips.

[boneblushed]

Labyrinth

Uh oh, I’m falling in love / Oh no, I’m falling in love again

synopsis you’re reunited with your ex-boyfriend, Rafe, at an Outer Banks wedding.

tags Rafe Cameron x fem!reader, exes to lovers, second chance romance, slowburn-ish, A LOT of angst, an equal amount of pining, an awful breakup but a wonderful reconciliation 💓

wc ~11k

“You look,” you murmur, squeezing Brooklyn’s shoulder gently, “perfect.”

She’s sitting in front of a round, gold-rimmed mirror, the windows on either side of her painting her skin a warm aureate. You stand in shadow behind her, the sunbeams unable to reach your pretty features. There’s a wistfulness to them that’s almost imperceptible.

Almost. If she weren’t your best friend, someone you’ve known since forever, she probably wouldn’t have noticed the way you were hiding from them. The smile on her face falters as she looks up at you through the mirror.

“Look,” she begins tentatively, frowning, “if this is too hard —”

“Do not,” you interrupt. You try for an encouraging smile; what you hope is an encouraging smile. “I’m totally fine, okay? I’m over it.”

A pause. Brooklyn’s reflection sends you a long, hard look. “No one would blame you if you weren’t.”

You know what that means, the insinuation behind her words: you were supposed to be the first one. It’s all anyone in the Figure Eight was saying when they first found out about your break-up: you’re meant for each other, though, we can’t imagine you not being a couple!

Well, neither could you, not that it really mattered. Six months on with half a heart and pulseless motive, you’ve come to realise that wretched pining comes at a costly price.

You can’t afford it anymore.

“I know,” you reply quietly.

The spaghetti strap of your cowl neck falls as you straighten, the periwinkle fabric shimmering forebodingly. An image of the Rafe you knew flashes in your mind, slipping it down to press a kiss on your skin. Your stomach drops.

“But I am,” you add, louder. As though you’re trying to convince yourself more than you are her. “I promise.”

Brooklyn stares at you for a long time before her gaze falls, acquiescing with a sigh. “I hate that you still don’t believe it.”

“Believe what?”

“That he could live a thousand lifetimes and never deserve you.”

You bite back another wince, the fresh sting of forgotten feelings pricking at your eyelids. “I do believe it,” you say quietly. “I do. That’s what makes all of this so fucking hard — that I know we’re never getting a second chance. That he chose to throw all of it away and I’m never going to be able to forgive him for it.”

“You shouldn’t have to, though!”

“We were together for half our lives, Brooke!” You turn away from the mirror, taking in a jagged breath. “We — his mom had promised me her ring before she died, for God’s sake. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to walk away from what we had?”

A long pause. Brooke’s voice is gentle, but her words cut like a knife. “It’s not as though you had a choice, Y/N/N. He didn’t give you one.”

You look around at her, unshed tears making your pretty eyes shine. “What does it say about me that I’m no closer to accepting that than I was six months ago?”

“Babe.” A tear falls. Brooke’s features soften, and she pulls you into a tight hug, enough pressure to wring out the melancholy in your chest. “It says that you’re human.”

She rocks you for a moment before you’re forced to pull apart, a knock on the door breaking your reverie. “God,” you self-reproach, sending Brooklyn a watery smile. “I would find a way to make your day about me, wouldn’t I?”

“Maybe I should ditch Kelce,” Brooklyn replies faux-seriously, catching the stray tears wetting your lower lids. “We can elope or something.”

As though on queue, the Universe intervenes before she can go through with this idea. Perhaps it knows, having watched the pair of grow close throughout college, that there’s a part of her that really would call this all off if you asked her to.

“Sweetheart!” Comes Brooklyn’s father’s voice from behind the door, punctuated by the sharp rap of his knuckles. “It’s nearly time!”

The tension ebbs. Suddenly, everything about this wedding—the same one you’ve been helping her plan forever—becomes entirely too real. Your melancholia is a tide in this way, flowing forth and receding as its surroundings permit. Never fading away; ever-present. Though it may not be as unbearable now as it was when you first broke up, it lingers.

You’re afraid that it always will. You push down this fear like you’ve done every other.

Focus. Your eyes widen in anticipation, mirroring Brooklyn’s as they transform into nervous excitement.

“Come in!” Brooklyn calls anxiously, biting back a squeal. You’re grateful for the fact that you haven’t ruined her mood completely. “Oh my god. Oh my god!”

She stands up and turns around just as her father enters the room, his lined face shining with a wistful sense of happiness. As the atmosphere in the room shifts, she glances back at you, and your insides twist in cruel mocking. More repentant than jealous. I was supposed to be the first one.

You don’t let your expression falter. The first few chords of the processional float into the room through the ajar door, and you spring into action, smoothing out your dress and readjusting your bouquet of flowers.

“That’s my queue,” you say, squeezing her arm once more before slipping past her and her father.

In true Kook fashion, Brooklyn’s wedding ceremony is taking place on the Island Club green. Upon exiting the storage room you’ve transformed into a vanity, you find yourself in the entranceway that leads to the venue, the set-up just visible beyond its oak doors.

Benches of beige driftwood sit on either side of the aisle, twined with buttery white lilies and ivy-like viridescence. They face a brilliant floral wedding arch, where the officiant and Kelce stand talking in hushed whispers. And the sky above you is a vibrant, cloudless blue, golden sunlight fanning down upon the crowd, bathing them aureate.

In the beat that passes, you search for someone you shouldn’t.

The last time that you saw him, he was hunched over his father’s office desk. His eyes were bloodshot and his tired gaze dull; half-finished documents stared up at him in mocking, and a nagging ache was making home in his chest.

The week prior, you hadn’t seen much of each other. And it wasn’t as though he’d requested this space—he rarely did, rarely asked you for anything—you’d just taken it upon yourself to give it to him. Stay in control. If you proposed time apart before he did, maybe it would feel more deliberate; hurt less.

You were dead wrong.

“Look,” he sighs, this cruel, heavy sound that splices right through your chest, “I realise I’ve been neglecting our relationship a lot recently.”

“Yes,” you respond tentatively. “But you’ve been under a lot of pressure recently. I get it.”

“You shouldn’t have to.” He glances up at you through red-rimmed irises. “I… I don’t know how long it’ll be like this. With everything that’s happened… my dad dying, and me taking over the firm —”

“I’ve seen you through all of it,” you interrupt quietly, your voice cracking. “I’ve — no questions asked, I’ve done it. I get it, Rafe, you’ve got different priorities at the moment. But we’ve loved each other for so long now that I —”

“But that’s the thing,” he says then, swallowing hard, “I just don’t know if I do anymore. Not as much as I used to.”

The silence that follows feels as though it’s suffocating you. You haven’t said a word, and Rafe’s said plenty, but it’s you with the lungs that heave for loveless oxygen.

“Oh.”

Rafe’s Adam’s apple jumps again, and he breaks eye contact as unshed tears brim to the surface. “I’m sorry.”

It doesn’t make any sense.

“Maybe,” you try, grappling hard for a logical explanation, “maybe your grief’s fucking with your ability to feel anything.”

Rafe’s gaze lifts to your face again, teardrop tracks making your pretty cheeks shine. His heart aches, hard, and he finds it difficult to catch his breath. “But… I’ve dealt with it,” he says quietly. “I’ve had to.”

“How can you have?” You throw back, exasperated. “Rafe you — you haven’t had a moment to yourself since his funeral last month, you’ve holed yourself up in his office and acted like everything’s fucking okay!”

“Because it is!” He replies, his face hardening momentarily. “I’m — I’m fucking fine, alright? I just need to be alone right now.”

“Because you don’t love me anymore.”

Rafe winces. Your lower lip trembles. “Yeah. Because something’s missing… the — the fucking spark, or whatever… and right now, I can’t give you the sort of love you deserve.”

He was tired of hurting you through his abjection, he’d said. As if breaking things off wasn’t the most hurtful thing he ever did.

Thankfully, you aren’t able to spot him in the crowd; if you had, walking down the aisle would have been infinitely more difficult. Out of courtesy to you—and Brooke forcing his hand, of course—he hadn’t asked Rafe to be a groomsman either, so you were well safe from an untimely encounter at pre-wedding festivities. And from standing opposite him in front of the altar. You aren’t sure such close proximity in holy matrimony would be healthy for either of you.

It’s unfair on him though, you know it is. He has as much a right being best man as you do maid of honour — the four of you were thick as thieves once upon a time; in fact, it was you that’d introduced Kelce to Brooklyn.

It feels like so long ago when you think back on it now, being nineteen-years-old with a naïve heart and nothing to lose.

You and Rafe had seemed invincible then, high-school sweethearts that were somehow surviving college-borne distance. Forever, that’s the word that ended every drunk call or late night text; forever, and the promise of a proposal and beach-side villa.

“Shi—did you not see the sock on the door, Smith?” Rafe groans, his forehead dropping to your shoulder in defeat. He’s spent the past half hour getting you into a compromising position, his rough hands awry and his wet mouth on your soft skin. The amaranthine imprint of his kisses have made home on your neck. You’re straddling him with your arms wrapped around his shoulders, and he really doesn’t want to sacrifice any amount of closeness.

Kelce enters the room tentatively, his hand firmly pressed over his eyes. “Hard to miss. You two decent or what?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

You let out a peal of laughter as Rafe glowers at his roommate, his calloused palms dropping from your hips to your thighs. You push the fabric of your dress over his hands, but he kneads the flesh anyway, the skin on skin like spare oxygen.

Kelce peeks at you from between his fingers before pulling them away, an unimpressed look on his face. “C’mon, surely you’re done with her Cameron. I’ve given you guys the entire fucking day together.”

“Half an hour,” Rafe replies, his blue eyes narrowing.

“As if you need more than five minutes,” Kelce snorts, plopping down on the bed opposite Rafe’s.

“Oh fuck—” Rafe’s large hands circle your thighs and tighten, standing up and advancing toward Kelce with you in his arms, “—right off—”

“Rafe!” You gasp, suppressing another surprised laugh. “Put me down, you asshole.”

“No way, Y/N/N,” Kelce says then, raising his arms in preemptive surrender. “Your PDA’s the only reason he hasn’t given me a shiner yet.”

Rafe affirms this sentiment by pressing a chaste kiss to your temple, his eyes still narrowed as he glares at Kelce. “You’re lucky I love my girlfriend more than I do my fucking reputation.”

Kelce makes a face, keeling over and mock-gagging. “Yeah, yeah, you guys have been bethrothed since fucking pre-K, I get it. Now will you stop being so possessive and let me have a conversation with her?”

You look over your shoulder at him, untangling your arms from Rafe’s neck so he can let you down gently. When he does so, it’s with great reluctance, and he doesn’t hesitate to circle your chest so he can pull you back against him. His strong bicep is warm against your neck, solid pressure.

“What’s up, Kelcey?” You ask, surveying him with interest.

“Ghosted,” he says gloomily, falling back against his duvet, “again.”

Rafe glances down at you at the same time you look up at him, a sage, sympathetic emotion passing between you. In the weeks after your break-up, you’ll come to yearn for this emotion more than anything else — that feeling of being immune to inadequacy, of having found the love of your life so effortlessly.

“You’ve gotta stop coming on so hard, bro,” Rafe says, resting his chin on your forehead. “These sorority chicks are probably all looking for something casual.”

“He can’t help the fact that he’s a lover boy, Rafe,” you defend, frowning. “You’ve just gotta find a girl that wants what you want, Kelce.”

Kelce raises his head hopefully. “Know anyone like that, Y/N/N?”

“Well,” you pause, chewing your bottom lip thoughtfully, “I am thinking of inviting my roommate Brooklyn to the Bahamas over summer break —”

“To Rafe’s?” This piques Kelce’s interest. He props himself up onto his elbows, a hopeful grin transforming his features. “Sold.”

How times change.

Today, Kelce stands at the other end of the aisle, waiting for the same Brooklyn that was once your roommate, now his almost wife. He’s wearing an elegant black tuxedo with a lily tucked into the breast pocket, its buttery white petals shining in the sun. He looks so, unimaginably, happy. It should’ve been you and Rafe. Your heartstrings twinge.

“You’re not ready,” you murmur as you pass him on the altar, finding your place opposite his best man, Topper.

Kelce smiles at you, a little nervous, a little unshed. “Will I ever be?”

You shake your head, smiling in tandem.

The wedding procession is a brilliant display of love, and you find a way to make it about your lack thereof. Seconds blur, minutes melt into each other, and your poor mind strays to when things were far simpler. The Island Club was your date night spot, once upon a time. It’s where you’d envisioned you’d get proposed to; where you would get married one day, too. Just like this.

You’re happy for them, you swear it. It’s just a difficult emotion to maintain when the opposite comes so naturally.

Rafe doesn’t arrive until the reception itself.

He wants to believe that this is entirely accidental — he’s had a long day at the office, filled with several meetings with prospective clients. He can’t though, his wretched conscience won’t let him. He chose to go to work today, chose to schedule important meetings at the same time as Kelce’s nuptials.

He thinks he knows why this is, and isn’t sure whether he can handle the why in a satin slip and strappy heels. He wants to believe that he meant everything he said to you six months prior, but the dreadful ache in his chest crescendos in mocking every time he tries this.

He’s made a mistake. He won’t admit this if it killed him. But he knows, deep down, that something isn’t right about all of this.

If he really didn’t love you anymore, if that fucking spark was missing, there shouldn’t have been anything to move on from—the ship should have already departed. But he’s struggling, hard, and his thoughts juxtapose his actions. Despite telling you that he needs to be alone for the time being, you remain unmoored in his mind, rocking back and forth but never sinking.

He’s done his fair share of fucking up over the past few months. Got into something else too quickly, tried that no contact thing and failed miserably. There’s no going back after everything that’s happened. And yet…

“Hello?” He greets you like it’s a question; like greeting you isn’t second nature anymore. Your stomach turns.

When you respond, your voice comes out jagged, pained. “Look. I get that you’re doing this ‘no contact’ thing, or whatever, but Sarah told me something pretty fucked up and I think you owe me an explanation.” Your voice is far weaker.

Rafe winces, a familiar ache pulling through his chest. “If this is about Elle —”

“It’s been a month, Rafe. You may as well have cheated.”

…that fucking hug.

After you’d confronted him about shamelessly flirting with Sarah’s friend, Elle—in front of Sarah, no less, who told you the second it happened—he’d asked to meet up in person and explain himself.

You weren’t quite sure what to make of it all, which is probably why you’d foolishly agreed to hear him out. Ward had hired Elle as an intern before his death; she’d been around a while, long enough for an affair.

It shifted bile into your throat.

And when you’d met him, the exact opposite of what you’d hoped had happened. He’d had the gall to tell you that he thinks something’s there, that he feels that bullshit spark that he swore was missing in your relationship.

What were you meant to say?

But then he’d apologised, recognised it was too soon, begged to stay friends. Friends—like a platonic relationship is in any way gift receipt redeemable. And ironically, hearing him out wasn’t even your biggest mistake, it was that wretched hug goodbye that you’d permitted you get.

It was as though that hug held everything unsaid. Your figure had moulded against his quite perfectly, and why wouldn’t it? He’s the only romantic embrace you’d known since you were a teenager.

And when you’d finally pulled away, separated the pieces of your heart that were finally greeting his again, you hadn’t realised that he’d think about that hug for weeks gone by, just like you.

All the way up until Christmas, which occurred two months after your sudden break-up.

It was the last time you saw him under the pretence of amicability, when you came by Tannyhill to drop off presents and see his family. Mostly him. It felt pathetic, even then; for all you knew, Elle was on his mind and you were somewhere insignificant.

Rafe’s pretty sure he’s fucking doomed.

Your laugh reverberates through Tannyhill like a siren song, and he’s pretty sure he’ll never not recognise the sound of it. It’s as though every bone in his body vibrates in tune to it—so unabashed, so freeing. Far more painful now than it used to be.

You’ve become so many Taylor Swift songs and none of them end happy.

He follows your sweet timbre to the hallway before he can help himself. Once upon a time—God, it feels so long ago now—he’d have been the first person you’d have texted before dropping by the house. Instead, as he stands paralysed at the foot of the stairs, it’s Sarah who’s hugging you, who gets to hold you in her arms.

Luckily for him, your eyes are closed in the embrace, and he’s afforded a second to recalibrate after taking you in. He’s known that you’re beautiful like his first memory on Earth, but that doesn’t mean your proximity leaves him any less winded. You’re fresh-faced with limbs that have an untouchable quality to them; you aren’t his to mark anymore, no longer his to ruin.

He can’t remember the last time he kissed you. He wants to remember so fucking bad. You’re slipping through his calloused fingers and fragments of you are all he has.

“You didn’t have to get us anything!” Sarah exclaims, pulling away faux-disprovingly.

“Hey, don’t do that, of course I did.” Your arms fall back to your side, and you open your eyes in tandem. When they flit past Sarah’s face and find Rafe’s instead, it feels as though someone has tipped ice-cold water down your singlet. A pause. “You’re family.”

Sarah notes the change in your tone with a frown, turning to look over her shoulder. “Oh,” she says, her expression hardening. “Sorry, Y/N/N. I didn’t know he was home.”

You swallow. “It’s no big,” you reply, forcing yourself to look back at her. “We’re alright, really. But I should go, I have a few more presents to drop off.”

Sarah frowns harder. “You sure you don’t want to stay a bit? I know Rose’d love to see you, we’ve all really missed having you around —”

“I’m sure,” you interrupt, handing her the bag of presents you’ve wrapped. “I’ll send her a text, okay? And listen,” you pause, your expression softening a little, “I know this holiday season’s going to be hard without your dad, and I want you to know that I’m here for you, whenever you need me.”

Sarah’s eyes well with tears. “It’s going to be hard without you too, Y/N,” she murmurs. “You’re my sister.”

Your features sadden in tandem, and you give her shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “And I always will be. You know that.”

“You should come to Christmas, then,” she says hopefully.

“I —” you falter as your voice cracks, grimacing slightly, “— I’m sorry. I don’t think I can.”

When you turn around, something in Rafe’s chest cracks too. He’s still hanging on to that expression-softening catalyst from a moment prior, yearning hard for the feeling of being on the receiving end of your love.

“Why the fuck,” Sarah fumes, rounding on him once you’re out of earshot, “do you have to ruin everything you touch?”

Rafe doesn’t even have it in him to wince. “I don’t know,” he responds quietly, with an honesty that aches. “If I did, maybe I’d have found a way to fix it.”

Sarah takes pause. Slight disbelief transforms her features. “You have to still love her. How can’t you?”

“I don’t know, alright?” Rafe runs his hand through his hair slovenly. “I just — I’m not happy anymore. It’s not fucking there… I don’t know if it’ll ever come back.”

“What isn’t?”

“The… the spark.”

“Bullshit,” Sarah spits out, accusatory. “The ‘spark’ is fucking bullshit, Rafe. You’re telling me you’ve felt it the entire time you’ve known her? You’re telling me this doesn’t have anything to do with dad’s death?”

Rafe swallows thickly, discomfort coating his throat. “I don’t, alright? All I know is I can’t give her what she needs right now; I don’t know if I ever will.”

To this day, he doesn’t know about your detour that evening — how instead of driving home, you took a left to the look-out where you shared your first kiss. He doesn’t know that the waves crashing ashore bore witness to your heartbreak; that sunset orange painted your tear-streaked cheeks a gentler amber. Caressed them, subdued them, where he no longer could. He doesn’t know you agonised over how much his hair had grown in your absence, the subtle stubble on his jaw, the stark outline of his biceps.

The him that’s foreign to you, now; the him that’s Elle’s and not yours.

At twenty-four years old, Rafe Cameron doesn’t know fucking anything.

Of course, once he does eventually recognise that his ‘something there’ with Elle is a rebound, it’s too late to entertain returning to you with his tail between his legs.

He can’t. Not after everything he’s put you through in the past. So he allows regret to caulk his limbs and bitterness to coat his insides, and Rafe Cameron does what he does best — pushes it down and ignores it.

Which brings him here, a non-attendee to his best friend’s wedding and an hour late to his reception.

He sidles into the venue through a pair of double doors, and the first thing he notices is the dimmed sconces and muted fairy lights. It’s the first thing, because perplexingly, the crowd is hard to discern but you glow anyway. A spotlight illuminates the centre of the room where Brooklyn and Kelce share their first dance, but they don’t draw his gaze, your beautiful features do.

Of course you do, in your strappy cowl neck slip. There’s less periwinkle fabric than he’d anticipated, more exposed limbs, and Rafe feels like he’s run a fucking marathon as he takes you in. And your pretty eyes and glossy lips cascade into a bare neck; soft skin that’s forgotten his rough touch, his bruising kisses.

It’s momentary lust that his regret promptly squashes. He can’t think those thoughts about you anymore, even if they’re almost second nature. Even if he’s spent more tangible years of his life as your boyfriend than he has a fucking stranger.

That’s what you guys are meant to be right now: strangers. His stomach coils. His tired eyes search for the open bar on instinct.

Once he’s acquired a whiskey neat and a glass of champagne, he pulls through the crowd and makes toward your figure.

You aren’t as lucky as he is to mentally prepare for a reunion. When he holds out the shimmering flute and prompts your gaze toward him, there’s a split-second of slack-jawed diffidence before you find your common sense.

God, you wish he wasn’t so easy to stare at.

He’s wearing an expression that isn’t yours anymore, with his thick brows furrowed and lips slightly parted. Yearning, but he can’t be. His blue eyes make your heart leap. Your gaze lifts before it falls, taking in his damp hair, his larger than ever frame. Both feel unfamiliar; he’s shed the skin and aureate curls your fingers once traced. Same notes of patchouli on his neck, though you note the absence of the silver chain you once bought him for Christmas.

Does he still have it, somewhere, hidden in a shoebox under his bed? (His hand is so close to your chest, it feels like you’re dying.) Is it as painful for him to see you like this after months and months of no contact?

Can’t be. Shouldn’t be. The ache may linger, agonisingly, but you’re stronger now than you were when he first ended things.

“Oh,” is all you can muster, accepting the flute of champagne. When your fingers brush, you reprimand the jolt of static. Lust may be hard to shake, but you resolve to let logic prevail. “Thanks.”

Rafe feels it too, harder, more unbearable. “Don’t mention it.”

You break eye contact to look out into the crowd, though it’s a struggle finding anything to focus on. “When’d you arrive?”

“Five minutes ago,” he admits, staring at your side profile for a second longer than he probably should. He analyses the glittery stuff on your cheekbones—highlighter?—for traces of a familiar feeling. “Work shit.”

“Ah,” you reply, raising your eyebrows at him. “Some things never change, huh?”

Rafe winces. “Look, Y/N, I —”

“I’m kidding, Rafe, relax,” you interrupt, sending him a small smile. It makes his stomach turn. “It’s all going well, I hope?”

“It is, yeah,” he responds, smiling in tandem. “Ish. Still doing a fuck tonne of late nights and weekends.”

“Bummer.” It feels strange, making small talk in this way. Strange, though not particularly as awful as you’d predicted. “How’re Rose and your sisters?”

“Yeah, they’re good,” they miss you, “Sarah’s going to UCLA in the fall.”

You nod. “She told me.”

Something in Rafe’s chest drops. He turns to you, his piercing gaze making your skin burn. “I didn’t realise you guys kept in touch.”

“We’ve always been really close. You know that.”

Because of me. “Right.” His eyes fall to your throat as you take another pull of champagne, smooth and unblemished and painfully foreign. “I’m glad.”

You turn to him then, an unreadable expression on your face. “Me too.”

A beat. The pair of you stare at each as the surroundings buzz into static.

“Listen, Rafe, I —”

“Y/N, I’ve been —”

You falter first, scrunching up your face abashedly. “Sorry. You go.”

“I…” Rafe pauses, running his calloused palm through his hair, “I guess I just want to apologise. For everything.”

Your eyes widen, and you turn away from him abruptly. “Rafe, I don’t know if now is the best time to have this conversation.”

“Shit, I know. I know I’m about five months too late and don’t deserve to be heard out.”

“Well,” you pause, chewing on your bottom lip apprehensively. Your voice quietens. “Maybe not at a wedding.”

Or ever. You tip back the rest of your champagne just as the slow dance fades out, breaking away from him. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

Rafe fucking hopes so. He needs a clean slate if it’ll kill him. He nods reluctantly, watching you disappear into the crowd in front of him. The ache in his chest crescendos as the physical distance swallows you completely.

—

“We love you,” Brooklyn mouthes, blowing you a kiss through the open window. The limousine she’s in stretches forward with jet-black grandiosity, its ignition blaring alive as you catch it in mid-air.

When you blow one back, Kelce peeks over her shoulder and sends you a wink. The pair of them wave to the wedding-goers surrounding you before the vehicle pulls forward, leaving you in its dust. You watch them exit the Island Club gates, and a sense of bittersweet melancholia finds home in your chest.

That should’ve been you. You turn around as the crowd begins to disperse and find yourself face to face with Rafe once again.

“Oh,” you say, looking up at him in surprise. When your expression relaxes—in recognition—his chest pulls in tandem. “They’re sweet, huh?”

Us; that should’ve been us. Rafe nods, smiling wistfully. “Can you believe you’re the one that set them up?”

“At your holiday house,” you return, smiling in tandem. “This was a two-person wing man job.”

“Nah. You were the one that saw their potential.” A pause. “You’ve always been really good at that.”

Your brow furrows. “At setting people up?”

“At seeing their potential,” Rafe corrects. An unreadable emotion crosses his blue irises. “Even when they don’t deserve it.”

Your expression falters. You aren’t sure what to say to this, so you don’t say anything at all.

“Listen,” Rafe tries again, scratching the back of his neck, “d’you need a ride?”

“Well…”

You hesitate, looking over his shoulder for your parents. When you spot them, they’re in avid conversation with some family friends; they look extremely comfortable, like they’re going to be dawdling until God knows when.

You’re searching for justification even though he doesn’t deserve it. After all the pain he’s caused you, your wretched heart still yearns for more.

Fucking sadist.

“Actually, yeah,” you finish after a beat, bringing your gaze back to him. “That’d be great, thank you.”

His shoulders relax. “Yeah, of course. You have all your things?”

“Uh huh.”

“This way.”

You allow him to guide you to his pick-up trunk, pretend that you didn’t discern it right away. Besides, you were meant to have forgotten the location of his unofficial ‘official’ parking spot. So you follow him toward it, deny the familiarity of its number plate, and act like every dent and wretched scratch isn’t a piece of your heart.

“Shit—ow!” You curse, hurtling forward as you stall, again. “This is fucking impossible, Rafe. I quit.”

Rafe grins perplexedly, giving your shoulder a squeeze. “Baby,” he placates, “if Top can learn to drive manual, anyone can.”

You make a frustrated noise, crossing your arms over your chest. “Not me, clearly.”

Rafe lets out a laugh, unbuckling your seatbelt so he can pull you into his lap. “C’mere.”

When he does so—with entirely too much ease—he pinches your chin between his forefinger and thumb so he can guide your lips against his. It’s an unhurried kiss, a sure press of emotion, as though he’s rousing the embers that live within your ribcage.

He has this funny way of leaving you out of breath no matter how chaste the embrace. You break away reluctantly, raising your eyebrows at him. “So is this the reward system you used when you were teaching him to drive, hot-shot?”

Rafe makes a face, dipping his head to sponge a kiss to your neck. “Why? You jealous?”

“Never,” you sigh, running your fingers through his hair. “You wouldn’t dream of leaving me for someone else, Rafe Cameron. The Figure Eight wouldn’t forgive you if you did.”

“I wouldn’t forgive myself if I did.” Another teeth-scraping kiss. “I’d be crazy to let you go. I’ve been in love with you since we were freshman.”

He doesn’t open the passenger’s side door for you after unlocking his pick-up truck. That isn’t his place anymore.

He wants to, anyway. You want him to, badly. This revelation passes unsaid between the two of you as you climb into the seat yourself, unscathed by chivalry.

Once you’re buckled in, your gaze lifts to the new air freshener dangling from the rearview mirror. “Huh,” you say, flicking it absently, “you replaced it.”

He wants to say, you left me no choice. He wants to say, old spice smells like you. “Oh yeah,” he replies instead, clearing his throat. “Rose got me it.”

“It’s nice.”

“Thanks.”

He shifts into reverse and backs out of the park, and there’s a split second where he almost places his hand on your headrest. He can’t do that anymore. Too close; not close enough. You notice it too. An ache passes from his heart to yours.

“Are you going to take any time off over summer break?” You ask, keeping your gaze on the road ahead.

Rafe pulls out onto the main road before turning to you and responding, “I wasn’t planning on it, but I think I might need some.”

“I think you might need some too,” you agree, sending him a fleeting smile. “Bahamas?”

You don’t expect the tears in his eyes that follow. You straighten abruptly, your eyebrows pulling together. “Sorry, I didn’t mean —”

“No—shit, I just—” he falters as his voice cracks, clearing his throat again, “I don’t think I could go back there any time soon. Too many memories.”

Your expression softens. “Your dad, of course. I get it. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You have nothing to be sorry about.” He takes in a jagged breath. “Shit, I’m the one that should be apologising. For everything.”

“Rafe —”

“No, listen…”

He pauses as he turns left onto your street, pulling onto the side of the road as soon as he can. He’s still a good mile away from your house, but it feels an injustice to keep you waiting for an explanation. When he turns and angles his body toward you, there’s a brokenness on his face that makes your miserable heart falter.

“I’m… I’m so sorry for everything I put you through after I broke up with you. Even if that was what I needed at the time, even if it was the right decision, I shouldn’t have been so fucking heartless and I regret not reaching out to you more often.”

You swallow thickly. He takes your silence as encouragement to keep going.

“You deserved better than the way I treated you… you’ve always deserved better than me. I didn’t know how to deal with all of my grief and I pushed you away in the process. It was… fuck, it was so selfish of me, and I’m sorry. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t hate myself for it.”

He’s taken all of the oxygen in the car, and you find yourself struggling for air. You turn to him, every drunken rationalisation manifest. “Thank you,” you whisper, “for saying that.”

“And listen, the Elle thing —”

Too much. “Rafe,” you interrupt, swallowing again. “Stop. It’s fine. I accept your apology.”

Rafe frowns, the furrow in his brow painfully evident. “Yeah? Because… because I’d understand if you didn’t.”

“Yeah,” you affirm, turning away from him. “Besides, it’s ancient history. I forgave you a long time ago in my head.”

“You did?” Rafe’s asks, searching your features in earnest. “Why?”

The champagne you’ve consumed swirls uncomfortably in your stomach. “I had to,” you say quietly. “It was the only way I was going to be able to move on from the situation.”

Rafe’s stomach drops. “Which you have.”

“Which I have.”

The smokescreen between you smothers any semblance of hope you might’ve shared. He nods, turning on the ignition once again. “I hope that means you’re happy, Y/N.”

“It does,” you reply, “I am.”

“Good.” It doesn’t feel good at all. “Maybe this means we can be friends.”

You turn to him again, raising your eyebrows. “Friends?”

“Like we were before,” he affirms, putting the car into drive. His fingers brush the bare skin of your thigh near the gearshift. A very unfriend-like jolt of static shoots into your chest. “I… I don’t know. Sometimes I think I just miss my best friend.”

Your heart sighs. “Me too.”

“Friends then.”

“Yeah,” you reply, sending him a small smile. “Friends.”

—

You haven’t been to Shake Shack since you broke up with Rafe. You didn’t even realise you’d evaded it so long; perhaps it was a subconscious thing, too many painful memories to bear.

You remember when it first opened up in the Banks, this egalitarian refuge nestled between the Cut and Figure Eight.

Rafe Cameron remembers too, remembers bringing you here on your very first date. Roguish at fourteen with endless charm and a handsome face, he had far less creases etched onto his forehead then; far less familial expectations to deal with.

If only you knew he’s evaded it too. When he pulls into the carpark, the aforementioned date comes forth in fragments.

When memories lie dormant so long in one’s head, they tend to lose the stitches that hold them together. Nervousness, excitement, cherry coke and a lilac singlet. The strange feeling of forever before either of you could place it. He doesn’t remember any of your conversation, nor how long the date lasted, but he remembers the cloudless sky, the flutter of new love in his stomach.

The pair of you share a look before exiting his pick-up truck. A look that says: uh oh, and insinuates far more than that.

“So how’s work going, anyway?” Rafe asks, shoving his hands into his front pockets. He’s a beat behind you head toward the entrance, and you can feel your neck burn where his eyes remained trained on you.

“Yeah, alright, same old,” you say, sending him a fleeting smile over your shoulder. His blue irises are dappled golden in sunlight, and their brilliance unsteadies you, the eye-contact like a firestarter. You clear your throat. “Sam quit.”

Rafe’s eyes widen. “You’re kidding.”

“Not kidding,” you shake your head, “he ended things with Peyton and booked a Contiki in South East Asia.”

“Shiiiiiit,” Rafe wolf whistles, shaking his head in tandem. “Is he going through some kind of quarter life crisis?”

You shrug. “Who would let someone like Peyton go, huh?”

Rafe resists the urge to wince. He can think of one person in particular who threw away something far more special. He clears his throat significantly, regret like molasses coating the sides of his windpipe. “Yeah. How’s she doing with it all?”

“Oh you know Peyton, she’s the queen of acting unbothered,” you reply, sounding reproachful. “Even when she’s heartbroken, she refuses to tell me about it.”

Rafe frowns. “Fuck that.”

“Yeah?” You send him a wayward glance, raising your eyebrows knowingly. “Cause to me, it sounds like someone else I used to know.”

There’s a pause as he meets your gaze, a frightening wistfulness passing between you. It lingers.

“Right.” You’re at the entrance to Shake Shack now, and Rafe grapples for purchase on the one thing he can control—friends. He pulls open the door and beckons you forward, “So. Is today the day you branch out and order something new, Y/N?”

When you pass by him, a tendril-like brush of shoulder on chest, the buttery scent of your vanilla perfume lingers. A lot about you does, a lot more than he’d care to admit.

Rafe’s wretched heart cycles between the old and new you like it’s trying to make them both fit within its chambers.

“Don’t think I have a choice,” you reply, sending him a smile over your shoulder. “They’ve completely revamped their menu since the last time we were here.”

Rafe raises his eyebrows at you. “They have?” You checked?

“Uh huh,” you reply, nodding. “I was going to make a reservation here for our anniversary way back when.” You clear your throat. “When I went on their website to do so, I realised that their menu was totally different.”

You leave out the part where you’d stopped by soon after, asked—no, begged—the manager to serve you the originals when you came. You know, when old time’s sake was a sacred concept. When that sweet, lovesick version of you still existed.

“Oh shit,” Rafe says. Though it’s subtle, he catches the smidge of diffidence in your voice, like the ghost of relationship’s past rearing its ugly head. You checked, for him, and you’re so nonchalant about it. Like it may have mattered then, but right now it matters far less.

He feels an awful twinge in his chest. He adds, “That sucks.” He isn’t sure whether he’s referring to the change in menu or the change in your heart’s purpose.

“I know.”

“I was looking forward to ordering the usual.”

“Me too.” You shrug. “We’re just going to have to find a new usual, I guess.”

What you mean is, make new memories that’ll replace the old ones. What you mean is, erase the nostalgia being here brings.

Also, though you’d never willingly admit it, start anew.

Rafe nods, stepping forward and glancing up at the menu. Though it’s different to the one he remembers from his youth, the interior of the diner is comfortingly familiar — same ugly yellow track lights, same checkered linoleum underfoot. Same fingerprint-smudged counter and broken drinks machine, same uniform on the workers, same greasy smell permeating.

And the same booth you were partial to nestled in one corner, it’s retro cushion covers faded as ever.

The menu, and the girl beside him. The only two things that feel different.

“Hm.” You frown, deliberating over the menu. “I’m thinking the ‘classic’. You want to split some curly fries?”

Rafe raises his eyebrows, his blue eyes full of mirth. “So the one that’s exactly your old order, minus the pickles. Got it.”

“Yes,” you decide. “Except I’ll ask them to add pickles.”

“Of course you will.” Rafe grins. “I’ll get the same.”

You gasp, faux-scandalised. “Rafe Cameron eating pickles? Now I’ve seen everything.”

Rafe raises his eyebrows. “How d’you know I’m not just ordering it to pawn ‘em off to you?”

You balk. “I don’t, I guess.”

“And yes, to the curly fries,” he adds, quick to change the subject. The bashfulness on your features dissipates, but the tension in the room weighs ever-present.

You nod, sliding your wallet out of your back-pocket. “Should we just split the bill, then?”

“No way,” Rafe says, clasping your wrist to hold it in place. Your pulse feels funny. “I got it.”

“Rafe.” You frown, shaking your head. “Look, it really isn’t a big deal —”

It is to me. “Exactly,” he interrupts. “Which is why I got it.”

Maybe you should argue some more, insist on paying until he gives in. But you don’t. Between the pulse-jolting closeness and mocking sense of nostalgia, you aren’t sure you have it in you to retaliate.

Though in an act of rebellion, you avoid your usual booth. Once you’re seated at a new table and separated by your burgers, you re-enter this stupid friendship thing you’ve adopted. The one that boasts no-strings like the red one isn’t obvious.

“So,” you say, popping a curly fry in your mouth. “You remember Maya, right?”

Rafe makes a face. “That psycho roommate you had in senior year? Yeah, pretty hard to forget.”

“Well, she hit me up a month ago to let me know she’d be in the Banks to see her boyfriend.” At his audible gasp, you nod significantly. “I know. Asked if I wanted to catch up while she was here.”

Rafe wolf whistles in amusement. “No fucking way. After the Hell she put you through?”

“I fucking know,” you reply, grimacing in disdain.

Rafe raises his eyebrows, swallowing down a handful of curly fries. “Tell me you said no.”

You raise yours in tandem. “What do you think, casanova?”

“Y/N!” He groans, shaking his head. “Why do you put yourself through this shit?”

You frown, reaching for your soda and sipping stubbornly. Condensation rolls down your palm, the soft skin shining. “C’mon! It was useful, I swear. I got the intel on Maya and her mystery OBX man.”

Rafe leans forward in interest, taking a pull of his soda too. “Go on then.”

“God, I’ve been sitting on this information for ages,” you say, your pretty eyes full of excitement. Rafe’s heart leaps. “I wanted to tell you as soon as I found out, but we weren’t talking and you were avoiding me and I didn’t know whether I should break no contact.”

It deflates just as quickly, sinking into his stomach like deadweight. “I wasn’t… I don’t know, I thought it’d be best if I kept my distance.” He sighs, sitting back and raking his fingers through his hair. “Clearly that was a mistake. I haven’t been this relaxed in fucking ages.”

You smile small. “Yeah. This is nice.”

“Nice.”

“Anyway,” you clear your throat, this sticky, molasses-like something rising from your chest, “it’s Dylan. Like Dylan fucking Young that had a crush on me in freshman year.”

“Fuck off, seriously?” Rafe replies, mirth evident on his features. “Not kidding, think it’d be grounds for a restraining order if she ever found that out.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” You exclaim, raising your eyebrows significantly. “You promise to take this to your grave, Cameron?”

Rafe nods, faux-somber, extending his pinky toward you. “He won’t hear it from me, Y/L/N.”

When your fingers entwine, you wonder whether he feels it too. It’s a jolt of static that leaves your skin warm and your insides funny, and you wonder whether the effect it has on you is endearing or pathetic.

The latter, you conclude. The red string of fate disagrees.

“Good,” you say, retrieving your hand. “Oh, and,” you take a generous bite of your burger, “did you hear that Taylor’s moving to Texas?”

“I did, actually,” Rafe replies. “From Top, funnily enough.”

You frown. “He’s still pining, huh?”

“Unfortunately.” He pulls apart his burger to pick out the green pickles, placing them onto your plate before re-assembling. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world. In the offensive, fluorescent lighting, they shine up at you in mocking. “Anyway, I should probably learn to get used to it. I’m moving into Kelce’s room now that he’s happily wed.”

Your jaw slackens in surprise. “You’re moving in with Topper?”

Rafe grins. “I know. Who would’ve thought, huh?”

“But,” you pause, popping another curly fry into your mouth, “why?”

“Needed to get out of Tannyhill, I guess.” He falters, swallowing down the bile-like rise of emotion from his chest. “Too many memories.”

Your expression softens. “That makes sense.”

“Besides, Sarah’s starting college soon, and Wheeze’s off at boarding school for the majority of the year anyway.” He shrugs. “And Rose… well, she’s at the Bahamas house more than she is in the OBX.”

“Too many memories,” you repeat, frowning sadly.

“Yeah. I guess.”

There’s silence then, the comfortable kind. An emotion passes between you that feels both familiar and new at the same time.

It matters less when you finally finish, what you speak about, whether you’ll meet again. All you know is, something feels different now, as though there’s embers that this reunion has reignited in your ribcage. Dormant though they had once been, you’d always hoped that the renewed hope would set them aflame.

The next day, you wake up to a text from Rafe.

thank you for yesterday. It was really nice.

You don’t have it in you to reply; Rafe doesn’t mind. He knows you feel the same way.

—

It’s a few weeks before you see him again, at a farewell party for Brooklyn and Kelce.

Prior to embarking on their honeymoon, they were shifting their lives to Chicago; laying down the foundations of stability so they could return to a clean slate.

It upsets you to no end. You’d always assumed that her marriage to Kelce would guarantee that she settles down in the Banks.

Rafe Cameron must remember this, the way he does everything else. He hands you a beer and clinks his own against it, beads of condensation sliding over his calloused hand.

“Huh,” he murmurs, shaking his head in faux-disappoint, “so much for staying here and ruling the Eight with an iron fist.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” You exclaim, taking a generous pull of beer. Rafe’s gaze falls to the bare column of your throat, and he temporarily loses his bearings. “Does loyalty mean absolutely nothing around here?”

Rafe grins appreciatively. “They’re bound to come back, you know.”

“And how can you be so sure?”

“Because,” Rafe pauses, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “we were all cursed by the hometown witch when we were babies.”

You let out a peal of laughter. “Is that why I came back here after college?”

It isn’t lost on you that Rafe is standing far closer to you than he should. His spicy, cedar-wood cologne presses over your figure in waves. He bows his head to eye level, still grinning his mirth, “It’s why we all did. It’s also why they aren’t going to last more than a year in Chicago, I’m calling it now.”

“Who isn’t going to last more than a year in Chicago?” Comes Brooklyn’s voice from behind him, pulling the pair of you from your reverie.

He breaks away and turns to find her standing behind him, her eyebrows raised accusatorially at your closeness.

You smile guiltily at her, raising your arms in surrender. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t deny it either!” Brooklyn reproaches, faux-scandalised. She sends Rafe a playful glare, reaching for your arm and pulling you away. “I’m rescuing her from your bad influence, Cameron.”

Rafe nods sagely, taking a sip of his beer. “I think that’s wise, Astor—” he balks, shaking his head, “—sorry, Smith. Shit, Brooklyn Smith, huh? Guess I can’t do that last name thing ‘round here anymore, can I?”

“Not with us,” she replies, turning the pair of you around. She sends you the ghost of a wink before adding, “Y/N’s fair game, though. You know she’d rather die than take a guy’s last name.”

Something in Rafe’s chest deflates. “Yeah?”

You frown at him over your shoulder, mildly bewildered. “You knew that, Cameron.”

Maybe I thought I was different. “True.” He raises his beer bottle in acknowledgement. “Besides, Y/L/N suits you too much.”

Not as much as Cameron would have, once upon a time. You nod approvingly, the twinge in your heart conveying the exact opposite. “Doesn’t it just?”

Brooklyn steers you to the kitchen under the pretence of grabbing a drink, her true intentions becoming obvious when Kelce pivots into earshot on his barstool.

“So?” She prods, rounding on you once you’ve halted. “What’s the deal?”

“Deal?” You echo, feigning confusion. “What deal?”

“Don’t do that,” she replies, narrowing her eyes accusatorially. “Are you guys seeing each other again?”

You swallow. Your gaze darts to a helpless-looking Kelce. “Why? Has he said something?”

“That’s the thing,” Kelce mutters, shaking his head thoughtfully. “He hasn’t. But he’s… different.”

You frown. “Different how?”

“I don’t know… chiller. Happier. Like he was before Ward passed away.”

“Of course he is,” Brooklyn snorts, not buying it for a second. “He’s finally being absolved of all his guilt!”

“Brooklyn…” you sigh.

“What? It’s true!” She asserts, crossing her arms across her chest. “He’s… listen, Y/N, whatever you think this is, you need to snap out of it. He’s proved time and time again that he doesn’t have the emotional capability to deal with his shit, and you’ve been made collateral too many times to forgive him this quick.”

“Quick?” Your chest feels on fire. Isn’t seven months of torture enough exoneration?

“C’mon baby, you’ve gotta cut him some slack,” Kelce assuages, gentle but firm. “He fucked up, sure, but he also lost his dad, remember?”

“Grieving or not, he shouldn’t have pushed her away.”

“Granted, but we’ll never know exactly how he was feeling —”

“We shouldn’t have to, you just don’t do that to someone you love —”

“I’m still here, you know,” you interrupt quietly, frowning. “That someone that Rafe doesn’t love.”

A pause. Its silence that’s distilled in the overhead lighting, the scene beneath it awash in dim regret.

Brooklyn’s features are softer when she breaks the silence. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I just… I worry about you.”

You know she does; it isn’t her fault. She’s the one that slept over for four weeks straight post break-up, forced food down your throat and wiped away all your tears.

“Don’t apologise, Brooke, I get it,” you say, sending her a small smile. “But I’m fine, I promise. This isn’t even… this feels different.”

“Different how?”

“Like… you know that saying: ‘You’ll never find the same person twice, not even in the same person’? That’s how this feels. We haven’t fallen back into old habits.”

Brooklyn regards this for a moment, surveying your features carefully. “But you’ve been hanging out?”

“Only once,” you reply honestly. “Sent a few texts back and forth, that’s all. If… if anything were to happen, it’d be like a new relationship, not like restarting the old one. You know?”

“I do.”

Kelce smiles. “That’s… shit, that makes sense.” There’s a wistfulness to his voice. “That’s why I couldn’t figure out what it reminds me of, this different him that’s chilled and happy.”

You furrow your brow. “Hm?”

“It’s freshman year him all over again,” he explains. “You know… when the two of you got close the first time ‘round.”

“Oh.” Your heart soars. “Square one, huh?”

Kelce shrugs, sharing a meaningful look with Brooklyn. “Square one I guess.”

You’re about to respond when Rafe’s figure pulls your gaze, his crossed arms and broad shoulders blocking the kitchen entrance. He’s wearing a handsome expression and his hair is perfectly unkempt, the heady scent of his cologne juxtaposing his lack of proximity.

Sometimes, life is unfair. Your ex-boyfriend, now new friend, eliciting such un-platonic thoughts is one of those instances.

And it isn’t as though you’ve given Rafe much of a break, his blue eyes caught on your figure like a moth to a flame. You aren’t wearing a dress he recognises, which is both a delightful and agonising revelation.

Delightful, because it reveals bare expanses of skin that make his wretched hands itch in longing. Agonising, because it’s a reminder of the seven long months that he’s had to spend grappling with your absence.

Having a smile as pretty as yours is extremely unfair, all things considered. And eyes. Soft skin. He needs to stop staring before he does something stupid.

“Perfect,” he announces brusquely, “are we hosting our intervention now?”

He looks at you expectantly. You raise your eyebrows. “You know,” he adds, “the one where we beg them to stay in the Banks?”

“Hey!” Brooklyn exclaims, her green eyes full of mirth. “What d’you mean stay in the Banks? Newsflash, I’m not even from here.”

“You’re not from Chicago either, Ast-Smithy,” he returns significantly, sending her a meaningful glance. “Besides, you married into a Figure Eight family. You are very officially one of us now.”

“Not for long!” Brooklyn sings, sending you a wink.

“C’mon, Smith,” Rafe tries, turning to Kelce and feigning disappointment. “What happened to our sacred pact?”

“We were eight, Cameron.”

“And already privy to the tragedy of small-town life,” Rafe sighs faux-dramatically, nodding in agreement. “I’m bitter, alright? I thought I’d be the first one to get out of here.”

He glances over at you fleetingly as he says this. We’d be the first ones, his heart corrects in vain.

“As if,” you scoff, raising your eyebrows. “Mr Cameron fucking Development leave this place before me? No chance.”

Rafe grins roguishly, his blue eyes shining with amusement. “You’re all talk, Y/L/N. We both know it.” He sends Kelce and Brooklyn a meaningful glance. “We all are.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re going to be here all fucking night if we keep arguing about this,” Brooklyn decides, patting Kelce’s thigh to prompt him to stand. “C’mon, baby, we should probably get back to mingling.”

“You know,” she adds, narrowing her eyes playfully. “‘Cause it’s the last time we’ll see some of these people.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head bemusedly. Any retaliation on Rafe’s tongue fails at the timbre of it.

Once they’re out of sight, you turn to him, adopting a faux-somber look. “If we are truly doomed to a life in the Eight, will you promise me something?”

He’s still grappling with the fact that he’s a man starved of your beautiful laugh, now reborn. “Go on.”

“Should you find me yelling at Island Club employees about flower arrangements or charcuterie boards, shoot me.”

Rafe laughs, and it reverberates through your bones warmly. “And suffer alone? No way. I’ll meet you in the middle. Lobotomy?”

“No thoughts in my brain? So generous,” you tease. “Alright. It’s a deal.”

Rafe clinks his beer bottle against yours in confirmation, taking a generous pull of the bubbly liquid. “Can we trade promises?” He asks.

You take a sip in tandem, maintaining eye contact as you do so. There’s tension in the air, that familiar-new feeling manifest, and it’s no longer frightening, but rather a comforting embrace.

You marvel in it. Breaking free feels fruitless. “Yes.”

“If you make a plan to settle elsewhere, will you tell me?”

“Of course I will.” A pause. “Although, I think you’re right. I don’t think any of us are truly capable of leaving permanently.”

“If anyone is though, it’s you,” he says, so matter-of-factly, like he actually believes it. “I mean… you’re the only one who had the balls to go to a college out of state. The rest of us just accepted a cushy offer at UNC.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you dismiss. “I was back here so often I barely left.”

Rafe raises his eyebrows. “Only because you had a reason to come back.” You still do, if you’ll take me.

I still do, if you’ll take me. “True.” You frown, thinking on this for a moment. “Even so… I don’t know. Maybe it’s that hometown curse talking, but I wouldn’t want to raise my kids anywhere else in the States.”

Rafe’s gaze steadies, pulsing through you in waves. “I get that. We had a pretty sweet childhood, all things considered.”

You make a face. “Like, I don’t think I can deal with this iPad kid epidemic. Least we were sheltered from all that crap, you know?”

“Yeah,” Rafe replies, raising his eyebrows significantly. “Even if there were plenty of other things to jade us with.”

“Shit, I know,” you respond, laughing bemusedly. “See, only people from the Eight know how political beach clean ups can get.”

Rafe chuckles in tandem, taking another sip of his beer. “God, our lives are fucking ridiculous.”

You raise your bottle in agreement. A comfortable silence falls between you.

After pause, Rafe speaks up again. “You know,” he says quietly, an unnameable emotion flickering across his blue irises. “I don’t even think it’s everyone in the Eight.”

You balk. “Hm?”

“The whole, knowing each other thing,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “You’ve always understood me better than anyone else.”

Your traitorous heart leaps, and you force yourself to ignore it. Actions have always spoken louder than words, and you decide now’s as good a time as any to confront him about this.

It’s time to be brave, you decide. You say, “I find that hard to believe.”

“Why?”

“Elle.”

Rafe’s miserable heart falters, penitence like a lump in his throat. He’s been preparing for this accusation since your very first reunion, but it still doesn’t feel like enough; he’s a coward trembling at the frontlines, anyway.

“I’ve… we’ve… my therapist and I have talked about that situation at length.”

You eyes widen in surprise. “Your therapist?”

“I’ve been going to therapy, yeah,” Rafe replies, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “For a month or so now, every week without fail.”

It isn’t lost on you that Brooklyn and Kelce’s wedding was a month ago. The rift in your ribcage widens.

“Has it been helping?” You ask.

“A bit,” Rafe admits. “Mostly just to validate what I knew all along, I guess.” At your silence, he continues, “That… shit, that I’ve got this problem where I push people away when I need them the most. The Elle thing, there’s no fucking excuse for it, none, but it became pretty obvious after you confronted me that she was just a rebound.”

“A rebound,” you echo.

“A distraction, an escape… I don’t know.” He rakes his fingers through his hair slovenly. “All I know is, I didn’t care about her, so I didn’t have to push her away. She didn’t make me talk about my dad, my grief, anything, so she was easy enough company to have around when I felt like it.”

“Oh.” You swallow. “But I did.”

“But you did,” Rafe affirms, grimacing sheepishly. “Shit, all you fucking did was care about me and all I did was push you away.”

You try to be pragmatic. “Grief makes people do shitty things.”

“It doesn’t matter. You didn’t deserve it.”

“True.” A pause. Your gaze falls over Rafe’s face in paces, his haggard expression making you soften. “Listen. I’m glad you’re going to therapy, seriously. I know that’s a pretty big step for you to take.”

For you. “Thank you,” he replies quietly. “It… I just wish I’d listened to you the first time, you know? When you’d told me to go to therapy before I’d ended things.”

Your throat feels funny. “No use living in the past.”

“You’re right,” Rafe replies. A pause. The ghost of a smile flickers over his features. “What did I ever do to deserve your forgiveness?”

You smile in tandem, a little rueful. “Maybe you were a martyr in your past life, Cameron.”

“And you’re one in this one,” Rafe responds. “You know, after I lobotomise you over flower arrangements and charcuterie boards. Does that count as a full circle moment?”

You grin. “Not when you live on the Eight. Infinity sign, baby.”

It slips out before you can stop yourself, the ghost of pet-names past pushing Rafe’s pulse to fibrillation. Your eyes widen abashedly. “Should we rejoin the party?”

Rafe nods, “Probably,” and then, when you’re just out of earshot, “I’d do something stupid if we didn’t.”

—

Over the next few weeks, you begin to see more and more of one another.

A few texts back and forth become more than a few virtual trysts, and every spare moment you have is dedicated to being in each other’s presence.

And it isn’t as though you’re mending old love, this feels like something else altogether. Though old memories may flit through your brain on occasion, they are boundless and free — they don’t define this connection.

You’re starting anew. Rafe realises it too.

He still remembers how it felt to tell you he loved you the first time around, fourteen years old with a bashful smile and enough hope in his heart to ache. He still remembers what you were wearing the first time he drove you around; the first time you came to UNC to visit; the shade of lipgloss you worshipped from Sephora. And you remember it all too, the feeling of being in his pick-up, of being with this roguish, freshman boy that had so much charm your insides soared.

Going through it all again feels like receiving a new lease on life. How lucky are you to love a different person in the same man?

Currently, the pair of you are sprawled out on beach towels, velvet dusk revealing the bespangled sky stretching above you. Beside you, take-out boxes and sodas lie in the sand, discarded. Every now and then, his wrist brushes yours with a jolt of static.

You’re lying closer to each other than you should, his body heat pressing over you in paces. He’s pretty sure his clothes are going to smell like your soft-toned, vanilla perfume later, and he quietly delights in this.

“I’ve been thinking,” he says finally, breaking the silence.

You smile. “Shocker.”

He nudges your shoulder with his in faux-admonishment, turning his head toward you. It lingers; he’s closer. Your pulse feels boundless. “I’ve been thinking,” he repeats. “And I’ve realised something.”

You turn your head in tandem, his proximity making you balk. “What’s that, Cameron?”

“If we hadn’t broken up in the first place, I’d probably never have gone to therapy.”

A hush falls. “True.”

“And I’d never have worked through my emotional unavailability and all the problematic shit that comes with it.” He pauses, a heavy emotion making his blue eyes somber. “We’d have stayed together, but I’d never have become the man that you deserve.”

You swallow. “Is that what you are now?” You murmur, your voice unsure. “The man I deserve?”

“I don’t think so,” he answers quietly. “Don’t think I ever will be. But… but I’m working on it, properly this time. And getting to know you again, for real, has made me realise just how worth it this is.”

It’s too much. You make to turn away but Rafe’s hand stops you, gentle but firm on your face. His thumb swipes over your warm cheek in comforting circles, and you find yourself leaning into his touch inadvertently.

Uh oh, you’re falling in love. You sigh. “It feels inevitable, huh?”

“D’you believe in soulmates, Y/N?”

Your lashes flutter shut in response. Rafe inches closer still, his hand slipping down to your jaw, and when he kisses you, old embers create a new flame within your heart. It’s chaste, unsure, a second first kiss. And yet, though it’s soft, the press of his lips is a ravaging embrace.

“Do you, Rafe?” You return, opening your eyes tentatively.

His gaze is still trained on your pretty mouth, less iris than pupil as his yearning transcends everything else. He presses his thumb on your lower lip gently. “Only if it’s you.”

“I think I am,” you murmur.

Rafe smiles. Oh no, he’s falling in love again. “I think you are too.”

—

I thought the plane was going down / How’d you turn it right around?

[seratopia]

miguel o'hara x reader (fluff) - intoxicated → she/her pronouns!

modern ceo au! what happens when miguel is drunk

It's extremely rare when Miguel goes out to drink with coworkers, it's rare enough when Miguel gets out to go anywhere in general. He's either cooped up in his office, glued to his work, or glued to you at home.

You suggested to Miguel earlier this week about getting out to a bar, along with a few of the other higher-ups of the company. It's healthy to get out, you said, even if all he's going to be doing is drinking alcohol and eating meat.

Miguel's only good with people in a more professional sense; he's not the best at being all buddy-buddy with people he usually works with. He's quiet the entire time he's at the bar, occasionally taking a bored nibble at a bowl of loaded fries.

He kind of regrets this; surrounded by loud music, loud people, TV's with sports games playing in the background. He just misses you, he wants to come home and make food with you.

One of his coworkers, nudged him in the side a bit, obviously gesturing towards the wide array of various drinks and juices.

"Might as well have a drink while you're at it." He says, and Miguel is just stone-faced the entire time. The man walks away towards the remaining group of coworkers, possibly to either go dance, or to stare at girls from afar.

Considerably, it's been a while since he's had a drink. One or two wouldn't hurt, especially as a last minute scrounge for enjoyment in this god-awful bar.

Slowly, Miguel nurses on a drink provided by a suspiciously sleek bartender, leaning his cheek into his palm whilst taking a couple sips. He can feel the wolfish eyes of various women & men staring at him, feeling somehow exposed in his tight white button-up and simple pants. If only you were here, to sit in his lap and run your little hands against his chest.

The thought makes his head spin, a violent hot warmth running up his cheeks, his mind being blurred like a smudge on someone's reading glasses. The room's almost tilting sideways, the thoughts in his head dissolving away. (miguelito is a lightweight because i say so)

Miguel's drunk, for the first time in literal years.

He doesn't like it; he feels out of control of his body, unable to think or function correctly. He feels like a different person entirely, his eyes replaced with jelly and the tips of his ears turning scarlet.

The drink tasted good and all, but Miguel's thoughts on you feel magnified, every feature, every action you do running through his head like a cassette tape. He misses you more, and he really wants to see you.

Cleverly, he pulls out his phone, sighing to himself on the counter. It takes him a moment to put in his phone password correctly, fingers drunkenly tapping on the screen until he can find your contact.

. . .

You receive a text notification at about 9:43. Expectedly, you knew Miguel probably wouldn't make it through the whole night, but you're proud of him for trying. You open up your phone, amidst watching a show in bed.

miguelito💞💓: My love, I am intoxicated.

The text makes you giggle a little, imagining him all red-faced and tripping over himself with his coworkers.

Conveniently, you receive another text, one from the person you asked to keep an eye on Miguel.

It's a picture of Miguel with his head leaned against the counter, lovingly zooming in on a picture of your face with his phone. His ears are red, and there's a half-drunken drink beside him.

james q: he says he misses you. want me to take him home? you: it's okay, thanks tho. i'll be there in 10 to get him. james q: 👍

Assuming Miguel's still on his phone, you shoot him a text.

you: i see u looking at me

You giggle to yourself, and Miguel is visibly both shocked and excited, peering left to right as if you were magically in the bar.

miguelito💞💓: Please pick me up. I hate it here. you: ok sweetie, be there in 10

. . .

Despite the hour, the bar is bustling as ever, populated with underage girls wearing slip dresses and drunk frat boys. You worm through the building, searching left and right for your husband through the cacophonous bar.

Finally, you spot him where the counter is, big head tucked into crossed arms.

Gently, you slip your hand onto his shoulder, warmly rubbing him awake. At first he flinches, staring at you as if you were a stranger. He relaxes a few seconds later, lovingly and drunkenly fixating on you.

"Hey hun, I'm here to take you home." You say, and Miguel feels so warm, so comforted in contrast to the rash environment of the pub. He wants to kiss you, but he's too drunk to focus.

Without a word, Miguel rises from his bar stool, arms and hands immediately inching around your shoulders. He doesn't realize it, but he's pressing more of his body weight onto you, leaning on top of you like a slug.

Seeing you roll away the finest, sexiest piece of man as if it were nothing makes the party around you fume, their thoughts of asking for a number shattered within a minute or two.

Miguel trails after you, gluing himself to your back as you maneuver yourself out of the stuffy bar. Finally, you're out in the cool air of the dark, muffled edm music booming from the block's other counterparts.

The sidewalk is somewhat barren, scattered with a few people smoking or walking.

"I missed you, s'much." Miguel slurs, seeing the outline of your car in the dark parking lot.

"I know you did, baby. Now you get to come home with me and we can do whatever you want, like we promised." You say, unlocking your car with the press of your key.

He smiles just a teensy bit, his heart warming at the thought of snuggling up to you in bed, or cooking a late-night meal of sorts with you while a show plays in the background.

Miguel's the passenger princess tonight, adjusting the seat backwards so he can actually sit. He stares at you the entire time through bleary eyes, watching you start the car as if it were the most artistic and most beautiful thing ever.

"I love you." Miguel says, and you can feel the gratuity in his voice.

"I love you too."

© 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒑𝒊𝒂.

[love-belle]

ishq wala love !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which they're the blueprint for true love and everyone's in love with their love.

or

for when you find a love that feels like love. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings - language

author's note - im back (im so sorry) i really hope u like it <3 thank you so much for reading, i love you <3

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by kiaraaliaadvani, carmenmmundt, lilymhe and 968,426 others

yourusername ishq wala love ( love like love )

tagged charles_leclerc

13,627 comments

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username y/n finally found her ishq wala love ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

kiaraaliaadvani my loves 💐💒

-> yourusername we miss you ❤️‍🩹😭

-> charles_leclerc visit soon and bring sid. PLEASE.

-> sidmalhotra just booked the tickets 🫡���

username sid and charles being friends is what i NEED

-> username i just know that they're two dumbasses without a single braincell between them

*liked by yourusername and kiaraaliaadvani*

username IM GONNA CRY THEY'RE SO PRETTY 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

username mother and father slaying as always

username off topic but she's the reason charles' fashion sense is 🔛🔝

-> username nah my girlie gave him an upgrade frrrr 😭😭😭😭😭

username y/n tere vaste falak se bhi chand launga just one chance pls ( i will get the moon for you )

charles_leclerc still don't understand what that means but ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

-> yourusername it means a love that's like love

-> charles_leclerc yeah that makes complete sense 👍

charles_leclerc mon soleil ( my sun )

-> yourusername meri jaan ❤️ ( my life )

username i know charles manifested this i cannot believe that my love would get wooed by a driver like just say the word and i'll be driving taxis in mumbai

username IM SO 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, landonorris, danielricciardo and 875,486 others

charles_leclerc joyeux anniversaire mon soleil 💌 here's to spending my life with you under the sun. ( happy birthday my sun )

tagged yourusername

6,628 comments

username SHE'S SO PRETTY 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

username charles watch your fucking back

username SHE'S SO SUNSHINE GIRLY ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

username my bi awakening fr

username im so.

lewishamilton happy birthday y/n 💐 !!!

*liked by yourusername*

username "mon soleil" can you hear me crying.

username they're MY emotional support couple

username IF they ever break up i will simply stop believing in love 💔💔💔💔💔

-> username don't say a word.

username she's so ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

username im in awe like WOAHHHHHHHHH

carla.brocker happy happy happy birthday to my best friend for like ever 🍧💓 cannot wait to see you <3 !!

-> yourusername carla 😭😭😭 i love you thank you so much ❤️ i cannot wait to see u tonight <3

username HER SMILE IS EVERYTHING

*liked by charles_leclerc*

username they make me so happy

username IM SO normal about this OKAY?????? SOOOO normal

username me and who lolololol (this is not a joke im gonna cry)

username they're so in love i could cry 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

arthur_leclerc maman says that you cannot hog her the whole day and she wants to go shopping with her belle-fille ( daughter in law )

-> charles_leclerc she's literally my girlfriend

username charles' entire family loving her is so ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

username ME WHEN.

username screaming crying throwing up sliding down the wall bashing my head ripping my hair yelling kicking

username nice. (im gonna SCREAM)

yourusername i love you so much <3

-> charles_leclerc i love you so much more <3

-> yourusername ❤️

-> charles_leclerc ❤️❤️

-> yourusername ❤️❤️❤️

-> charles_leclerc ❤️❤️❤️❤️

-> yourusername ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

yourusername thank you so much jaan, i appreciate it sooo much 😭💌 ( darling )

-> charles_leclerc anything for my love ❤️💐

username god has a lot to answer for.

username im so

username THEY'RE LITERALLY CALLING ME SINGLE IN 63726282726 LANGUAGES

[sukirichi]

dusk till dawn drabble : thinking about a future where kiyoomi marries you and rintaro is married to iris, but rintaro still has feelings for you. and how kiyoomi is the definition of cocky knowing he was the one you chose in the end

note: this is for the team kiyoomi peeps !! but please know that this is not alluding that he is endgame, this is not a spoiler at all 😭 this is just a soft lil something for our prince 💓 (slightly suggestive, light angst for rintaro)

“omi...” treading to where your husband is, you sit yourself on his lap. his face is obscured by the newspaper he’s reading, but he hums in acknowledgement, unbothered as you gently push the paper down with your finger. you smile the moment you’re greeted by his handsome face, still in awe after years of marriage that he was yours now.

“hi, there.”

“hello,” he smiles, soft and tender. folding the newspaper and tucking it at his side, he drags you closer to him, his large hands drawing circles at your hip. “what does my lovely wife need today?”

“you make it sound like i’m only being sweet to get something out of you,” you playfully swat at his chest, “can’t i just come over because i wanted your attention?”

the chuckle that erupts from him is free, unbothered ― as he has been ever since you’d settled down with him and left the past behind. “you always have my attention, darling, but you only ever call me ‘omi’ when you want something else. so tell me, and i shall give it to you.”

your heart flutters at his words, but that same wave of giddiness dies down as you scrunch your nose. “well, you see. . . rintaro’s coming over with the kids later. they said they wanted to play with the horses again.”

you expect your husband to complain, or to refuse your request to welcome them. he isn’t oblivious to your ex-husband’s longing glances at you, or how he takes every opportunity to strike up a conversation on how ‘back in the day . . .’

rintaro’s lingering feelings never dissipated within the years, and you doubted it would anytime now. he had a bad of habit remaining in love with the people he couldn’t have when he was already with someone else.

much to your surprise, kiyoomi only leans back and nods, once. “okay. i’ll let the cook know to prepare dinner for all of us.”

okay . . . that’s it? it was that easy?

“you’re not worried?“ you pout at him, “or jealous?”

kiyoomi snorts, offended by the implications. “why would i be? i am the one you fell for, the one you married, and last time i remember ― if my memory does not fail me, of course ― it was my name you were screaming last night loud enough for the staff to hear―”

you slap a palm against his mouth, feeling his grin and laughter vibrate under your skin. “fine, i get it, you’ve made your point!” removing your hand, kiyoomi tenderly circles a hand around your wrist. your frown deepens, though its lighthearted and unserious. “you’ve been really cocky since i confessed to you. i liked you better when you were still shy around me.”

“forgive me, darling,” your husband grins, effortlessly tugging you to him until you’re stumbling right into his firm chest. “i couldn’t be humble when the woman i’ve pined over for years finally said she loved me, too. but i’ll be more subtle about it,” he amends with a thumb caressing your lower lip, his dark eyes already hazy with want. “your wish is my command, afer all.”

[yxngbxkkie]

neck kissing (h.j)

i wanna kiss this man's neck 😩 it's all i want 😩 i hope you guys like this! 💓

feedback is appreciated 🥰

"Hanji," you call out your boyfriend's name, walking further into the silent apartment. You find one of his hoodies laying on the back of the couch, deciding to steal it.

You throw the article of clothing over your head, inhaling the scent of his cologne. You hum in content, hugging yourself. You fix your hair as you make your way towards his bedroom.

"Hannie?" You whisper, peeking into the semi-dark room. Jisung lifts his head at the sound of his name, the light from his phone illuminating his facial features. "Hi, baby."

He smiles back at you as you step into the room, shutting the door behind you. "Hey, baby," Jisung mutters after pausing the show he's watching. "What are you doing here? Did we have plans?"

You shake your head while climbing on his bed, laying down beside him. "No, I just wanted to see you," you whisper as Jisung locks his phone.

"Aw, did my baby miss me?" He pouts his lips while setting his phone down. Jisung turns to face you, wrapping his arm around your waist.

"I did! You didn't stay over last night like you usually do," you pout, tilting your head to look at him. "I didn't get my Hanji cuddles."

Jisung brings your body into him, your head finding a place in the crook of his neck. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I wasn't feeling well last night," he sighs, dragging his hand up and down your back.

"Anxiety?" You ask him before pressing a light kiss on his neck.

"Hm, a little bit," he mentions, placing a kiss on your shoulder. "I'm okay now though. Don't worry."

You pull back and meet his dark eyes. "Are you sure?" You whisper, bringing a free hard to his cheek. Jisung nods his head, leaning into your touch.

Silence fills the space, and Jisung rests his head back on the pillow, looking up at the ceiling. Your eyes flick down to his neck for a few seconds, dragging a single finger down to the column of his throat.

"I love you, Hanji. I'm here for you," you mutter loud enough for him to hear, scooting yourself closer to him.

He chuckles softly, and you can feel the adam's apple vibrate. "I love you so much, Y/N. I would be so lost without you," Jisung mentions, his hand grabbing a hold of your free one.

You lean back into his neck, pressing a few kisses on his soft skin. Jisung lets out a ragged breath, gripping your hand a bit. "So pretty, Hanji," you whisper, hooking a leg over his waist.

"Baby, I - Shit," he cuts himself off at the feeling of your tongue on his neck. A giggle leaves your lips as he becomes putty in your hands.

You bite down on the spot just below his ear, earning a louder moan from him. "Can I mark you, baby?" You whisper into his ear before capturing his earlobe between your teeth.

"I-I don't know," he stutters while shuffling in his position. "With work and everything."

You trail your lips back down his neck, humming along to what he's saying. "Just one? Please, baby," you whine against his skin.

Jisung brings his hands to your hips, gripping them tightly. "Only one," he caves in. You move your head away from him, looking into his eyes before pressing a messy kiss on his lips.

You grin excitingly as you dip your head back into the crook of his neck. Your kisses are light at first, feeling Jisung glide his hands along your back. You work your magic, taking your sweet time to mark his pretty neck.

Moans leave his lips, one of his hands finding their way into your hair. A shiver runs down your spine at the feeling of him running his fingers through your hair. It's one of your favorite things he does.

"D-Does that mean I can mark you too?" Jisung stutters out, his grip in your hair tightening when you bite down on his neck.

You pull away and admire your work, the dark spot staring you in the face. "Baby, you can mark me whenever you want," you inform him, placing another kiss on his lips.

"You're not doing anything today, are you?" He asks while shifting out of your hold, hovering his body over yours. You shake your head, and Jisung smirks, leaning his face into your neck. "Good. We're gonna be a little busy."

~

tagging: @thewxntersoldier @reddesert-healourblues @spacegirlstuff @foxinnie8 @moon0fthenight

[marlenesluv]

hii shawty i have another smau thought/request! max x country girl (like claire monroe/monroe derillo) and people find out about their relationship and social media hates her since shes SO country and so much younger than him

better kept secret. (MV)

hii! i can definitely do that, i love this idea as well :)

pairing: max verstappen x country reader

fc: claire monroe

warnings: some social media hate from maxs fans. not rly a warnings, but age gap! (7 years)

masterlist here -> masterlist link

^ check my list for all posts! ^

liked by: maxverstappen1, yourbsf, and 32,184 others

y/n.user: what’s more fun than sonic at 2am?

view comments…

user61: sonic > anything else fr

f1.updates: did max like this?…….

|> wagsf1: no- no way….

formula1fans: i will not stand for this, no way max knows her

|> user4: who even cares LOL

yourbsf: you are so beautiful, HELLO????

|> y/n.user: awe, thank you hun🥹

f1.edits: i am not editing her….. ummm

|> formula1fans: who asked you to? LMAO

_______________________________________________

liked by: y/n.user, carlossainz55, and 487,104 others

maxverstappen1: great night in monza. excited for this little break for two weeks

view comments…

f1fan: who’s the girl….

|> wagupdates: it might be @y/n.user. she liked this and he liked her most recent picture. idk, i could be wrong but it also looks like her in this pic

|> f1fan: bro she’s like 16

|> formula1fans: she’s 18. but it’s legal sooo

|> f1fan: it’s weird, babe

|> formula1fans: idk

charles_leclerc: congrats about monza!!

|> maxverstappen1: thank you!

_______________________________________________

liked by: maxverstappen1, landonorris, and 71,294 others

y/n.user: 🍹(it’s a virgin drink lolz)

view comments…

f1.wags: don’t tell me that’s max, pls no

|> formula1fans: it rly looks like him….

maxverstappen.fp: theres no way this is the girl he’s dating. this country girl?

mv.redbull: shes way too young for him…

|> formula1fans: pierre and his gf, kika, have a bigger age gap than this… who cares?

yourbsf: my prettiest cowgirl in all of the south 💓

|> y/n.user: ilyyyyy

y/n.fans: these comments are literally not it.

lilymhe: the suit….it looks so good on you

|> y/n.user: ty lily!!!

_______________________________________________

liked by: pierregasly, maxverstappen1, and 81,194 others

y/n.user: baes first rodeo 🫶

view comments…

yourbsf: SO FUN WOOOOO

|> y/n.user: took his rodeo virginity YEEHAW🤠😭🤭

f1wags: nah, this ain’t it.

user98: i’m so confused, is this max?

|> f1updates: i think soo…….

|> f1wagupdate: soft launch vibes but i think we all know

francisca.cgomes: the fits are givinggg💓

|> y/n.user: thank you kika😊🤍

|> f1.fans: oh, the underage gfs duo!

|> user23: you do realize that they are not underage rt?

user73: okay but, if this is maxs gf, he should stand up for her. the amount of hate is ridiculous

|> user50: fr. and why the hate? cause she’s 18? pierre and kika have a bigger age gap. not to mention that everyone is j mad cuz she’s with max

_______________________________________________

twitter:

F1 Wags Updates @f1wagupdates • 7hr

here’s what we know about y/n y/l/n so far, potentially max verstappens new girlfriend:

y/n is 18 and lives in tennessee, and attends college at the university of tennessee. now, fans have not been happy with the recent posts on y/n and maxs instagrams.

we know that max, pierre, lando, kika, lily, carlos, and oscar follow y/n, so far. max has been liking y/n’s photos of her and this new “boyfriend.” just like y/n has liked max’s new picture with his alleged “girlfriend.”

we don’t know anything for certain yet, as nothing has been announced. we assume this is a soft launch for them. throwing hate in y/n’s comments does absolutely nothing. especially because she’s “too country” and “too young.”

|

*comments have been disabled on this tweet*

_______________________________________________

liked by: maxverstappen1, lilymhe, and 99,273 others

y/n.user: ⚠️⚠️⚠️

*comments have been disabled on this post*

_______________________________________________

twitter:

User 79 @user79 • 3hr

what are your thought on it? #y/n

|

User 56 @user56 • 3hr

i think that you guys are mad for no damn reason lol. let the poor girl live, she didn’t ask for this backlash, and for what? because she’s 18, which she can’t control. because she’s country? who cares? being country is so cool. because she’s dating max and you aren’t? stop being so jealous and let them date in peace

|

Formula 1 Updates @formula1update • 3hr

her making her comments disabled definitely means she knows what’s going on, and being a wag comes with the hate. if she can’t handle it, then she doesn’t need to date max

|

Wags of F1 @f1wags • 2hr

that’s actually so stupid. she’s not dating max bc he’s famous, i’m sure. so it’s not like she wants the media, hence the soft launch. honestly, you guys are being ridiculous for no reason. there are bigger age gaps with other couples, find a real problem in the world.

|

User 37 @user37 • 1hr

here’s the real question, why aren’t you guys behind y/n like you are the rest of the wags?

|

User 61 @user61 • 59mins

the real question is actually why max hasn’t said anything yet…..

_______________________________________________

liked by: y/n.user, danielricciardo, and 1,014,194 others

maxverstappen1: my pr manager told me to keep quiet, to keep my relationship off of social media. two weeks ago, i told my girlfriend i was sick of not being able to show her off. at the beginning of my vacation, i posted a picture of us at her house, receiving all sorts of rude comments. then, the comments continued on to her page. “why hasn’t max said anything about the hate?” i couldn’t. i still technically cant, but getting facetimes at 2am because of comments making my girlfriend cry? i’m over it. if you can’t support my relationship, you are not a fan of mine. if you’re a fan of me, you need to understand that i have a personal life, which i rarely share. and the one time i do share, it can’t be an issue. to those that have stuck up for y/n and me, thank you.

*comments have been restricted to only those the creator follows*

y/n.user: thank you, max❤️

|> maxverstappen1: only posting what i should have posted weeks ago❤️

danielricciardo: it’s weird seeing you all emotional, dude. but i hope you guys are doing well ✌️

carmenmmundt: y/n is such a beautiful soul. it’s hard to meet people so genuine and kind. you’ve got an amazing girlfriend, max.

|> maxverstappen1: i know i do, i don’t deserve her

|> y/n.user: thank you carmen🫶 max shut up❤️

*liked by creator*

pierregasly: finally i can post all the pictures i got with you two in them

carlossainz55: congrats!!

|> maxverstappen1: on what?

|> carlossainz55: i don’t know…but congrats on announcing your relationship!!

|> maxverstappen1: right…thanks

_______________________________________________

(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)

[ghostfacd]

THIRD TIME’S THE CHARM! | JACK HUGHES

au masterlist

author’s note: this was in my drafts for the longest time but it’s finally out the dungeon! give a warm welcome to the newest member of the hughes, kayleigh ‘ky’ hughes 🫶 i might have to change my tag for ollie & daisy’s world to rory n jack instead!

ylerory third times a charm! 🎀 (p.s, third pic is when i told jack we were having another one!)

tagged jackhughes

view all comments

jackhughes me and ollie are outnumbered!

elblue0 did jim and i just let out a scream? yes we did!!!!! call us as soon as you can

lhughes_06 i get godfather this time right?

ylerory you know it moosey!

trevorzegras the Hughes girlies are takin over

jackhughes they really are

trevorzegras wait so that means you two..

ylerory ZEGRAS STOP IT

quinnhughes already love her

user1 JACK’S FACE 😭😭

user2 yn and jack really continuing the hughes line

ylerory we told dais and ollie that they’re having a baby sister! daisy obviously doesn’t know what’s going on but ollie was the most excited boy ever, i already can tell he’s gonna be such a good brother to kayleigh 🫶 as for jack, he’s currently soaking up all the time he can with ollie and daisy (as you can see him in daisy’s crib! get outtt!) before the baby comes and we become too busy!

tagged jackhughes

view all comments

quinnhughes tell that musty man to leave dais’s crib

jackhughes that ‘muStY MaN’ is daisy’s father!

trevorzegras kayleigh? we get a baby name reveal?

ylerory 🥸🥸

user1 their kids are so cute, i can already tell the third one is gonna get all the beauty genes

user2 oh to be yn lerory hughes and have 3 kids with the most finest man ever.

user3 daisy is so cute!! cant wait to see her be a big sister

elblue0 oh ollie has grown so much 🥹 his blue eyes

livvyhughes soaking up all the time i have left with my sissy in law before the new baby comes! i was her first child actually so :’)

tagged ylerory

view all comments

ylerory aw olivia, i love you so much. yes you and gabe were my first children, and you guys STILL ARE!!

gabeperreault 🫡🫡 you know it!

jackhughes ehhh whatever

ylerory one day you will have children livvy and our kids can become best friends!

lhughes_06 woah woah woah not anytime soon

user1 luke’s reply 😭😭

user2 jack’s sister and yn’s relationship is so cute, i love them

user3 livvy and rory is the ultimate duo, forget jack

user4 so real

elblue0 my daughters 💓

jackhughes dear yn “rory” lerory hughes, i’ve said this before and i’ll say it a million times again if I have to: thank you for bringing me happiness and for giving me the most precious gifts; ollie, daisy, and now our beloved kayleigh. i couldn’t ask for a better wife and best friend. i will love you in this life and in all the other lives we’ll have (yes, the last photo is of me telling my family members that we’re having another addition to the fam! 🏅)

tagged ylerory

view all comments

ylerory way to make a pregnant woman cry Hughes!

lhughes_06 nothing but love for u and rory

quinnhughes the sister and best friend we never knew we needed

ylerory quinnier 🥲🥲🥲

livvyhughes okay sap this was cute but i want more rory content!

user1 REALL miss olivia always speaking facts

ylerory haha just message me and ill send all my recent photos!!

[dreamgrlarchive]

I’m kind of lost. I don’t know who I am or what I wanna be can you help?? Thank you 💓💓

aw i know how this feels. it’s a natural feeling especially if you’re really young!! you’re going through a phase of self discovery and reinvention and that’s okay. here are some posts i’ve made to help with this experience (scaling from most to least important) 🍰💕

self help starter kit 🎀:

starting your dream girl journey

bimbofication

branding yourself

beauty regimens

beauty binder tutorial

[luvyeni]

hii could you maybe write something with perv chenle bff? something along the lines if u love me you let me cum inside ? thank uu:))

IF YOU LOVE ME; ZHONG CHENLE

pairings. bff!chenle x fem!reader

wc. 551

warnings. perv!chenle, manipulation, fingering, unprotected sex, breeding kink, mentions of photo taking

i hope you like it💓!

chenle is your bestfriend, and you love him so much, that means you'd do anything for him, right?

—

"it's just a kiss , c'mon bestfriends kiss each other all the time." he stared into your shiny eyes. "really?" you were naive , something he loved about you , he loved that he could mold you into something only for him to use. "yes of course , would i lie to you?"

he's right , chenle was your best friend for many years , he'd never lie to you. "do you love me?" you nodded. "of course i do, i love you so much." he caressed your face. "and you'd do anything for me, right?" you nodded. "yup."

"well if you love me, you'd give me a kiss."

you pressed your lips against him softly and chenle could feel his cock stirring in his jeans , just from a simple kiss from his cute naive bestfriend, he couldn't just keep it at kiss.

"did you like it?" he pulled away, you nodded. "yes." your lips were so swollen, your eyes were glazed over, he needed more of you, the kiss wasn't enough.

"let me touch you a little." his hand crept up your skirt. "do bestfriends do this too?" you grabbed his wrist, stopping him. "of course they do, all the time." he lied, "my friends, you don't know them, they do this with there bestfriends all the time." you played with the ends of his shirt. "i don't know."

"if you love me, you'd let me touch you."

"you're so wet." he rubbed you through your panties, sliding a finger in. chenle prayed for the days he could finally touch you. "c..chenle, this feels funny." you moaned, covering your mouth. "i didn't mean to make that noise."

"it's supposed to feel like that princess, keep making those noises" he watched you struggle to keep still, squirming on his hand as he rubbed your sensitive clit, palming his cock with his other hand.

"i..t feels like something is- its fine, that's supposed to happen." chenle watched in awe as you came on his fingers, you were just as cute as he imagined when he was alone in his room, fisting his cock to pictures he took of you. he imagined how'd you feel, what pretty noises you'd make... chenle needed more, he needed to be inside you.

"can i show you what else bestfriends do?" you nodded, you trusted him, if other people did it, what's so wrong with you to doing it? "o...okay."

"c..chenle it's too much!" you moaned as he fucked into you roughly, he tried to be gentle, he really did, but the way you felt around him, he couldn't help it. "it's okay, you can take it princess, you're my good girl."

"a.am i?" your voice was so innocent, chenle felt himself getting harder. "y..yes- fuck, yes you are you're my good girl." he felt the knot tightening, he was cumming. he didn't want to pull out, he needed to fill you up to the brim with his seed.

he needed to make you his...

"princess?" he pushed the sweaty pieces of hair out of your face, you were so fucked out as you rode him— chenle was never gonna forget this day. "you love me right?" he thrusted into you . "y..yes, i..i do love you."

"well if you love me you'd let me cum inside your pretty pussy."

©️LUVYENI

[sleepyhutcherson]

heyyy it’s me your wife💓💍

i just started my period :c

could you do some fluff?? if not no worries!

drink(water?) eat xoxo,em🤍

do you need anything?

pairing: mike schmidt x gn!afab!reader

summary: where mike goes to check on you to make sure if you need anything and ends up in bed with you, trying his best to make you feel better.

word count: 0.7k

tags: fluff, established relationship, comfort, mike being the best boyfriend, reader on their period, no pronouns are used!

authors note: hey babe <3 !! i’m sorry i didn’t get to this sooner, i’ve been busy with some personal things. this is super simple but i hope you still enjoy it and feel better xx btw, im working on your previous request, it’s just been taking me more time since i haven’t been in the mood to write smut but trust i will get it out sometime 😭

A soft knock was heard from the bedroom door before it slowly opened.

“Baby?” You hear Mike mutter from the door. It’s dark in your shared bedroom, your back is towards the door so he can’t see if you’re awake.

“Mike?” You reply, letting him know you were awake and not asleep. It was still day, the sun shining out, though you had the curtains shut so none of it could peek into the dark room.

You hear a bit of shuffling, you assume he’s taking off his coat. The two of you had been outdoors with Abby, watching her while she played in the front yard before you excused yourself and crawled into bed. You made sure to let Mike know that you weren’t feeling well due to your period cramps before going inside.

You feel the other side of the bed dip a little, Mike’s body pressing against yours a little. “Do you need anything?” He asks, pressing soft kisses against the back of your neck, his hand resting on your hip, gently drawing circles with his thumb there.

He just wanted to make you feel better.

“Could you just bring me some Ibuprofen, please? I left the bottle in the kitchen.” You ask, feeling that familiar guilt you felt anytime you asked him to do anything. Most times you wouldn’t even ask him but right now you could feel your pain increasing.

“Of course,” he mumbled against your skin, giving you a final peck before standing up. “I’ll be back.”

He returns in a few minutes, walking over to your side of the bed, and turning on the bedside lamp. You squint your eyes a little as they get used to the brightness even if it is rather dim, honestly.

He sets a glass of water down on the table, handing you the Ibuprofen and setting the bottle aside. He made sure to bring it so you wouldn’t have to get up and get it. You notice him set down a bar of dark chocolate, too, and then he holds out a heating pad.

“I, uh, I wasn’t sure if you just wanted the pills…” he mumbles, a shy smile playing at his lips when he sees the look you give him.

You weren’t sure before if it were possible to fall more in love with this man, but he somehow managed to prove you wrong every time.

“Oh, Mike,” you take the heating pad, setting it down and taking hold of his hand. “Thank you, baby.”

Mike smiles upon hearing you call him ‘baby’, something he secretly adored. He would never admit how happy it made him feel whenever you called him something sweet like that.

“You're welcome.” He says before turning off the lamp and crawling back into bed, on his side, draping his arm over you gently. You were facing up, the heating pad Mike brought you helping your cramps.

Mike kissed your shoulder, the smell of your hair bringing comfort to him.

“I’m sorry I left you guys outside alone.” You sigh, your fingers playing with the soft curls on Mike’s head. You tried not to let the guilt eat you away, remembering the concerned look on Mike’s face when you left earlier.

“Don’t apologise,” he assured, pressing himself closer to your side. He was suddenly feeling very clingy. “I was just concerned if you were okay.”

You smile softly, in awe at how caring he is. God, he was just perfect. It warmed your heart at how benevolent he was.

A comfortable silence lingered between the two for a moment as you mindlessly played with his hair, the soft sound of your breaths bouncing off the walls, with the sound of Mike’s little pecks he occasionally pressed against your shoulder and then to your neck. It seemed to be a reflex of his.

You turn to face him, bringing your hands to either side of his face, catching him before he can press another kiss to your skin. You could barely make him out in the dark, but that didn’t matter, you could tell he was smiling at you.

You lean in, innocently kissing his lips, smiling as you do so. He kissed you back, his smile pressed against yours, both of you feeding off such a sweet moment.

You pull away first, giggling once you do. He never failed to make you feel better.

“I love you.”

[erodasfishtacos]

A Fix For Loneliness Sneak Peek (up on patreon)

prompt: YN is learning she has no self-preservation. It’s why she keeps running into her stranger. A man who won’t tell her anything, gives her instructions, and occasionally isn’t downright awful.

word count: 9.5k+

warnings: h is obviously not a good person, violence, blood, medical stuff, mean H, dark H

authors note: the rest of the one shot is up on patreon. i will be updating this shortly over there too! I update every one to three days.

you can subscribe for $3USD here

I have upwards of 300 pieces of exclusive writing available 💓

———

YN was too kind.

She knew that.

It’s why she became a nurse, to help others in their time of need, and that’s exactly what she did in the emergency department of her local hospital.

When she was walking down a back alley one night (she knew it wasn’t safe but it was such a quicker shortcut after a thirteen hour shift she couldn’t ignore it even if it was one in the morning).

YN’s half-asleep on her feet when she runs into quite the scene, a man who has to be around her age was dressed in dark jeans and a black tee shirt.

There was blood dripping from his jaw and his bottom lip was swollen up, already bruising under the drying blood.

He had just tossed something into the dumpster before slamming the lid shut with a deafening echo and despite the warning signals, YN can’t ignore him.

“Oh my goodness. You’re bleeding, sir,” YN jumps into nurse mode, hurrying up to him and without permission, tilting his head gently to the side.

The man narrows his eyes at her, clearly taken aback, and takes three big steps away from her reach towards the opposite building.

He makes a show of spitting out a mouthful of blood onto the pavement before wiping his mouth crudely with the back of his hand.

His voice was deep and scratchy, it matched his appearance, his accent thick and rough, “M’fucking fine. Back off and mind your own god damn business.”

YN is used to fiesty patients, it doesn’t phase her much as she examines him from afar now, “I’m a nurse.”

The man sneers at her, “Surprisingly, I’m not fucking blind. I don’t want your help. Run the fuck along now, little miss hero.”

YN glances down, still in her scrubs, of course he would see she’s a nurse, and distraught at this man refusing help.

She’s tired, she’s overworked, and the fact that she knows she’ll perseverate on this if he doesn’t let her help makes her choke out a frustrated sniffle.

The brunette man, with a scowl of impatience scoffs of disbelief, “Are you really about to fuckin’ cry?”

“I jus-just want to help. I lost tw-two patients today and couldn’t-couldn’t save them,” YN begins to tear up now, wiping her eyes, it was always a hard day when she lost patients.

Two today.

An older woman with a heart attack.

A teen in a car accident.

“Fucks sake,” The bloody man groans under his breath, his eyes darting up and down the alleyway, “You’re going to cause a scene over this, aren’t you? I don’t have bloody time for this.”

He stomps towards her which makes her freeze but he stands in front of her with a agitated flick of his hand, “If you’re going to do your nurse shit, do it! I don’t have god damn time for your cry baby act. Of course, I get my plans ruined.”

YN obviously doesn’t know what he’s talking about but he seems like he has places to be and she’s holding him up.

Where on earth could he go with his face looking like that anyways?

“I-I don’t have anything with me,” YN stutters after a moment, this man was intimidating as he had major height advantage, he appeared lean but his muscle definition proved he was strong.

“Okay, then see ya’,” He grunts lowly, moving to turn on his heel but YN grabs his wrist without thinking to stop him.

“My-uh, my apartment,” YN’s throat is dry, what the fuck is she doing, “I have the stuff at my apartment up the street.”

“Did your parents never teach you stranger danger? Inviting a man you’ve never met, bleeding, up to your apartment?” He asks with an eyebrow raise, wiping his continuous bleeding wound with his shirt, flashing a sliver of his carved abdominal muscles.

“You need help,” YN replies unsurely, her behaviors are so uncharacteristic but she felt drawn to help this stranger.

A small group of people pass the corridor of the alleyway, with laughs and drunk words, and the man she’s standing with perks up at high alert.

“Fuck,” He hisses angrily, that seemed to be his favorite word, yanking his hand out of her grip and muttering so softly YN doesn’t know whether she heard him right, “gonna get me caught.”

“Stand over there and turn around,” The man demands sharply, YN wasn’t used to being talked to that way but she finds herself walking towards the edge of the alley and turning away.

YN hears rustling, the dumpster being open and closed again, and a few unidentifiable noises before she hears his footsteps approaching.

His hand on her shoulder is tight as he spins her around, “If I let you fix me up, will you leave me the fuck alone and more importantly, never mention this to anyone?”

YN’s brow furrows, “Why can’t I tell-“ The man hisses in agitation, fingers digging into her skin more has harshly, “Answer me.”

It’s the first time that chills are sent down her spine at his gritted words, everything in her is screaming to run, her fight or flight triggered.

“I-I won’t tell,” YN agrees breathlessly, skin tingling when he lets go and pushes her forward, not aggressively but enough that she stumbles.

“Then move already,” He orders and when she tries to turn around to look at him, his hand comes to her neck, keeping her facing forward.

Whatever he was doing in that alley, he really didn’t want her to see, and he didn’t seem like he was open to answering questions.

YN keeps trying to justify why she’s letting a bleeding, angry man into her home as she shakily unlocks the door.