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boneblushed · 9 months

Text

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?

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron oneshot

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soaps-mohawk · 1 month

Text

I'm going to be honest

I'm having a genuinely hard time making this post. I've been fighting with it for a couple weeks now, but I think it's time I finally make it.

I'm not having fun on this blog anymore.

It sounds bad, but honestly, it kind of is.

I think a lot of it started from the very beginning with the precedence and expectations I put on myself. I've always tried to respond to every comment I get. Even from the beginning. It's just a polite thing to do since those who leave comments took the time to write out what they think of my fic, even if it's just a keysmash. I've always felt the need to thank those who leave comments or reblog my writing or (now that tumblr has it) replied to my fics. It worked fine before because none of my fics were particularly popular. Even my most popular fic (at that time) didn't get as much attention as CRCB has. I've never had a "big blog" before, nor a fic as popular as CRCB has gotten.

It was fine at first, responding to everyone, engaging with everyone. I was riding that high of omg so many people are reading and enjoying my fic! I've never had anything quite like this before.

Now...it just feels more like a chore. I set this precedence on this blog that I respond to everyone and I know a lot of people have said that they're surprised I responded to them and to everyone, and now I'm getting why a lot of writers don't. I'm exhausted. I feel like I've just been robotically saying the same thing over and over trying to respond to people now. I used to love seeing asks in my inbox and reblogs and replies but now? All I feel is dread because I have to respond to all of those.

Turning anon off was a big help. It lessened the sheer volume of asks I was getting a day. And while I do feel bad for all of my anons who prefer to stay anons, with everything that happened (the multiple incidents) with anon that kind of started to suck the joy out of everything. That paired with the obsessive need to constantly have my inbox cleared and make sure everyone gets a response...I can understand now too why big blogs will have 200+ asks in their inbox. It's hard and it's exhausting and I'm burning out.

First it was the fic that was burning me out. Things have gone on far longer than I planned and I just wasn't prepared for this fic to go on and for a while there it was dragging. I'll admit that. If I could go back, I'd speed up a few things, but it's done, it's posted there's no going back. I kind of hoped I would have the mental capacity to upload more than once a week too, but I just couldn't. I still can't.

I've come to dread posting chapters because I know I'm going to have to reply and respond to everyone. The only thing keeping me posting is the fact that we're in the part of the story I've been excited about since the beginning and also because I keep leaving everyone on cliffhangers and I love torturing y'all with all of them.

So that being said, this is in no way to shame anyone for interacting with me, anyone leaving comments or replies or sending asks. Don't feel bad about doing it please. I appreciate all of you that have engaged with me and it really means so much to me. Honestly, earlier this year, if I didn't have this fic and everyone on this blog, I might not have made it to now. It's been a really rough year and it's still going to be into next year. It's just getting to the point where I need a break.

I've needed a break for a long time. I thought taking days off the blog would help, and it did for a couple of weeks, but now even on the days I'm supposed to be on the blog and engaging, I just find myself queueing stuff up and just being offline most of the day still.

I'm tired. That's the best reason I can give. I'm tired and burned out on life and I'm tired and burned out on this blog.

So...I think I need a break. I need to not keep responding to every single reply and reblog every chapter. I need to not force myself to answer every ask right away, no matter how much I want to. I feel bad, but I know everyone would rather have me here and enjoying the blog than forcing myself to interact to the point where I'm dreading it and just robotically repeating myself over and over with every reply and answer and comment.

I won't be pausing the fic, I won't be not uploading. I'll still be posting chapters, I just might not be interacting as much as I have been. It's just putting such a mental strain on me still, even with anon off, even with days off. And with things getting busier for me, it's going to be too much to try and deal with irl stuff and write and try to be super active on the blog. There's going to come a point where I have to sacrifice the writing or the blog and I'd rather sacrifice the blog to keep myself sane, and also to keep trying to finally get this fic done. I love this fic, don't get me wrong, but I'm just burning out.

I'm already burned out in a lot of ways.

I was planning kinktober this year but honestly I'm considering not doing it because I know interaction is going to be insane and it's going to be a lot to keep up on. Plus trying to write that many fics is hard and I'm not sure I have the ability to do it. I have a few done but now I'm just like...is that something I want to do on top of irl stuff and CRCB.

There's just no joy in it anymore. It's not anyone's fault but mine. I put the pressure on myself, I held myself to that standard for this long despite the fact I knew it was draining me. I've tried to push through when I should have prioritized myself. I feel so guilty not responding to everyone. I feel so guilty being a day or two late responding to everyone.

I want to be here and interacting and responding to things but I just can't bring myself to anymore. It's no one's fault, and this is not a drag on anyone, or an attempt to make anyone feel bad or guilty for interacting or sending asks or anything. I'm just airing out the truth and saying what I need to say because I feel like I've been so robotic and lifeless with my responses these last couple weeks and I feel like I need to explain why. It's nothing anyone has done. It's my fault. It's 100% my fault.

Things have just gotten to be too much and it's my fault for forcing myself to be so active. The social battery has dropped into the negatives. I'm not a social person. I can only handle so much interaction and I've pushed so far beyond that, that things have gotten to this point. I want to be here and I want to have fun and I want to use this as an escape but I just don't feel that way about it anymore. It's a chore for me, a job, something I feel like I have to do and it's my fault that I feel that way. It's my own standards and expectations I set on myself, and my expectations on what I think my followers want and deserve and now I feel like I've gone on too long like this that I can't change things without hurting anyone's feelings. I don't want people to think I'm ignoring them in favor of others because I know there's writers out there that do that. They only respond to a certain group and ignore others that comment and reblog. I don't want to make anyone feel like I'm doing that to them and that's now led me to here.

I'm forcing it and I'm tired.

It's been hard these last few weeks. The life has just been draining and draining continuously. The joy and the love I have for this blog and my followers and the interactions and the fic. The last anon bullshit that happened was just kind of the last nail in the coffin so to speak. The straw that broke the camel's back. Things stopped being fun. It made me feel bad (and not in the guilty way, though that was a part of it) and I'm honestly just over it. I'm over the blog, I'm over interacting, I'm over life at this point. August is a hard month for me and every year it seems to get worse and worse. A lot of it is unrelated to anything online and I was going to make a post about it but honestly I just don't want to. Those that know, know. Those that don't...it doesn't matter.

I'm getting annoyed by the blog, I'm getting annoyed every time I look in my notifications and see an ask or a reply or a comment. I'm getting annoyed by some of my followers and that's not fair to you. Everyone always talks about how nice and kind and patient I am when I'm really not. I'm not the person I present myself to be on this blog, the way I mask myself so I can present myself as being a normal, kind human being. The mask is coming off because I'm so tired I can't keep it up anymore. It's happening here and it's happening in real life. I'm tired and I'm frustrated and I'm angry at a lot of things and the last thing I want is to start taking it out on my followers. You don't deserve that, especially when it's not your fault, it's nothing any of you have done. It's all me.

It's not you, it's me.

So for the sake of not burning this whole thing to the ground, I'm going to take a break. I'm not replying to everyone, I'm not responding to every reblog, I won't reply to every ask I get right away, if at all because sometimes I just don't have anything to say in response and I need to learn that's okay. It's nothing against you. It's not aimed at anyone specifically, I'm just trying to put myself first and stop things from escalating. I need a break and I'm going to do something selfish and I'm going to take it.

Don't apologize because it's not your fault. Don't apologize because you think you might have contributed to this because you didn't. It is no one's fault but my own.

I'm the one that needs to apologize to all of you because I've just not been myself because I've been forcing myself to be someone I'm not. I've been very unfair to a lot of people over the last seven months that this blog has been active and I've held a precedent that is not sustainable in the long run and made everyone believe that I was capable of maintaining that kind of interaction when I'm not.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I've been putting everyone through this. I'm sorry I've been so detached and robotic and ingenuine. I'm sorry I led everyone to believe I'm someone I'm not. I'm sorry I've dragged this on this long that it's gotten to the point that I have to make this post.

I considered just disappearing but that wouldn't be fair to you either. I don't want to put you through that, so I'm pouring all of my thoughts out and making you read through this fucking novel of a post. If you've made it this far, then congrats I guess. Gold metals to you who bothered reading this far.

Anyway, all of that aside, I'll still be posting chapters. I'll have them scheduled and I'll probably come on and add links places to keep things current. I'll respond and reply and answer asks when I feel like it. You don't have to stop sending them, but just don't expect them to be responded to right away anymore. I'll probably still be here reblogging things I want and doing things when I feel like it.

I just need a few weeks to myself. Time I don't have to care about the blog at all and keeping up with it. Anon will remain off for the sake of keeping asshole trolls away, and also so I don't open tumblr and have 200 asks in my inbox after a week. Sorry to my anons but it's just the way it needs to be right now. Maybe once this break is over and I've dealt with irl stuff, I'll consider putting it back on. I just can't after everything I dealt with recently on anon.

It'll be the same on Ao3, for those that follow here and read there. Comments will probably sit for a while. They won't be answered right away anymore unless I get the energy to burn through them. Even then I won't try to answer them all at once like I did this last weekend.

I'll try to reblog something every day so y'all know I'm alright. I don't want y'all to panic and it's not fair to put you through that, especially those that might not see this or bother reading it. Those that follow simply for the fic and nothing else. I'm here, I'm just not...here.

This week's chapter is in the queue to be posted tomorrow as usual. Chapters will still come out as planned since I'm not stopping writing, just taking a break from the blog itself.

Thank you those of you who stuck through to the end here. I appreciate all of you so much. You have no idea. I'm sorry I let things get to this point and I'm sorry to anyone that I've gotten rude or snappy with because I couldn't be selfish and put myself first. I'm sorry to anyone that got a robotic, repeated response to something they were probably excited to share. I'm sorry I've been so unfair to everyone and I hope you can forgive me.

Take care and I'll talk to everyone when I have the energy to.

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saerins · 1 year

Text

─── 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒, 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘, 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒

+ itoshi sae x f!reader | wc 7.1k | content: fluff, making out, college!au, mentions of insecurity, only very brief angst !!, alcohol, slight jealousy

notes: this was supposed to be lengthier and in smau format but i suck at that so here it is in fic format :’) i know i know, i write sae way too much </3

summary: you have a crush on sae. for a long time now. and he’s always known that. he just wants to see how long you can hold out.

HIGH SCHOOL: 2ND YEAR

itoshi sae knows you like him.

you’re really obvious it’s pathetic, really. once during recess, he’d wanted to go back to the classroom to get some shut eye because soccer was way too draining lately, and guess who he saw slipping a little love note into his locker?

of course you. you and your little pink heart-shaped post-it that read i think you’re cute and i really really like you. because it was valentines and you were one of the many to send him little scribbles of confessions.

even now, when you sit just a couple of rows in front of him, he catches you looking behind at him, and sae purposely doesn’t look at you, doesn’t let you know he knows you’re staring. he’s not really sure why. maybe he feels bad if he exposes you or something.

throughout the rest of your sophomore year in high school, he continues to observe as you so subtly (not really) try to be friends with him. you always try to get picked to be in the same group as him for projects (which never works out), you try to sit next to him in lecture halls (but his friends cockblock you always), and during phys ed classes you try so hard with soccer but you’re really quite bad at it.

maybe it’s sae not being able to continue observing your failures that he throws you a bone.

“you need to bend your knees a little more.”

frozen stiff from the unexpected company, you awkwardly try to bend your knees further, all while staring at the ground. if sae was nice, he’d laugh and joke around with you, asking why you seemed so scared of him. but he’s not, so he only sighs and stands beside you while you try.

after a few more seconds, sae understands you don’t really understand so he moves to push down on your thigh, and by then you really freeze up, falling flat on your ass in front of him.

sae wants to laugh now, really, because it’s amusing how nervous you are. for no good reason too.

the next time sae talks to you, it’s during lunch time when he queues up behind you. on purpose. he doesn’t even usually eat from this stall, but seeing you there makes him want to mess with you a little. he purposely stands a little too close, makes himself prone to an accidental bump.

which does happen. because you’re just like that.

“oh, sor—” you stop midway as if realising it’s sae immediately dissolves you of any obliged apologies. “sorry,” you force out before whipping your attention back in front. the both of you don’t talk in that moment and sae can’t help but feel a little disappointed.

but sae continues to help you during phys ed classes, and you still try to get assigned to be his group mate. nothing groundbreaking happens during sophomore year of high school because nothing is born out of it.

nothing, except maybe a tiny bit of sae’s inexplicable emotions for you.

HIGH SCHOOL: SENIOR YEAR

sae thinks maybe you went to a shrine over the holidays. how else would he explain you finally getting partnered with him on a project? and to top it off, it’s a two-person team for the entire year.

you get him all to yourself.

the moment the teacher calls your name after his, it’s like sae can practically see your tail wagging. you manage to compose yourself when you catch him staring at you though.

it’s a little cute, if he’s being honest.

“so, what do you think our project should be about?” your voice wavers a little when you speak to him. is he that intimidating?

sae wonders what if he tries to be a dick during this project. would you be obedient or would you actually bite back?

he tries to find out.

sae shrugs and acts disinterested, staring out the window of the second floor of the library where you’d both agreed to meet to work on it together. “don’t know, don’t care, think you could handle it for us? i’ve got too many soccer trainings, too tired.”

for a split second, you’re taken aback—he sees you sitting upright a little more, blinking twice at him because surely that’s not what you imagined your crush to behave like. not when he has straight As and is almost the top of your cohort.

and for a while, sae thinks you might actually be the former; obediently listening to him, making sure he’s happy. but then you furrow your brows and clench your fists and go “itoshi sae, who do you think you are” and oh, oh, you’re not the former, you’re the latter and you’d actually kill him if he was a dick. fuck.

somehow his hands instinctively come up in surrender and his mouth opens, ��i was just kidding.”

it’s almost comical how your expression softens up immediately and you laugh, and sae keeps staring at you because you actually have a really nice smile. he never really noticed it before. and when the two of you actually get started on the project, sae finds himself observing you more than actually contributing.

yeah, you’re really quite pretty.

“any plans for the summer?”

it’s now almost july and summer break is around the corner, and to be honest sae’s kind of bummed about it. it’s beyond him why not seeing you would make him disappointed, but he’s not going to try and pursue the reason. he has his training camps to worry about.

“soccer. you?”

“mmm, a short trip with my parents.”

usually sae would leave it at that, but he asks about you, and he sees that tail wagging again. “where?”

“just gonna go to hokkaido,” you tell him. and you look like you’re anticipating him to ask more, but sae’s stuck. he doesn’t really know what to ask. he’s not exactly curious as to what you’d be doing there.

so you take matters into your own hand when you swiftly grab his phone from the table, key in your number and call yourself from his phone before putting it right back. sae watches you the whole time, wondering when exactly you’d gotten this bold.

“there, now you can’t escape me even over summer break.”

and he doesn’t. because you text him about your trip when you’re there, you send him pictures of the scenery and of the food you’re eating and you’re really inconsiderate because you send him that shit when he’s stuck in soccer bootcamp with twenty-four sweaty guys who’s none the better than him.

sae can end it by all means, just by not responding to you, but for the first time, talking to someone isn’t really a pain, and he thinks you’re kind of funny and the stickers you send are kind of cute so he’ll let this continue. even if by continue he means sending mediocre, lacklustre responses that just barely manages to keep the conversation going.

(in sae’s mind at eighteen, sending replies like okay and i see are considered acceptable and subjectively considered effort.)

when summer break finally ends and it’s early september, sae finally sees you again while he walks to school. he walks a little faster just to catch up to you before he adjusts his pace, acts like it’s coincidence that he’s right beside you.

and somehow he’s made it a routine; to memorise what bus you get off of and catch you on the way to school. even if he sees you in classes and even after classes in the library.

you’re acting a little less like he’s on a podium and more like normal friends and he kind of likes that. he likes being able to see you unfiltered when you gossip, likes seeing you laugh at stupid lame jokes, likes the way you hang close to him whenever you’re beside him.

okay maybe like is a little stretching it, he doesn’t mind being able to tolerate it. or maybe he’s just in denial, whatever.

winter comes and it’s somehow the time when more girls try to talk to him, mainly because somehow the school decides to hold a winter event this year; it’s going to be held near the edge of the city, where the biggest skating rink is.

by his guess, most girls are looking for a guy to have a skating date with.

in the library during your usual meetup for the school project, sae gets more than a couple visitors trying to get him for that same reason. you eye everyone that approaches the table, and sae can’t help but notice how he actually likes when you’re pouty. maybe it’s his twisted thinking that jealousy means you’re still into him.

“itoshi-kun, i was thinking whether you wanted to go to the winter event together?” another girl from your class, mizuno, asks him, and sae is tired of it, frankly. but he doesn’t show it. he only looks at you, and you look back at him because he doesn’t usually stare for this long.

then, he looks at mizuno and rejects her.

“sorry, can’t, i’m going with y/n.”

(you get home that day being completely flustered and completely happy.)

on the day of the event, sae keeps his word. he goes with you, sticks beside you the entire time. his friends snap pictures of the two of you and you always look so embarrassed. maybe you’re just not used to all of this attention. but that’s fine, it’s cute.

one thing he learns about you is that you can be real clumsy sometimes. like now, when you get so excited over your watermelon slushie that you somehow spill it all over your jacket and clothes.

sae ends up giving you his puffy winter jacket while he braves the cold with whatever he has left. that’s fine, he’s strong. besides, getting to watch you wear his jacket the entire time feels like a bonus somehow.

he thinks by now you should confess already, but you don’t. you’re happy to stay in this bubble with him right now, whichever phase the two of you are at. so is he. it feels kind of nice.

feels especially nice when you hang onto him for dear life in the skating rink even though neither of you are moving. sae’s aware that people are staring holes into both of you but it’s strange how much he doesn’t mind when it’s with you. that’s why he holds his hands out, lets you take them, makes himself pull you along. he finds himself wishing neither of you were wearing gloves so he could feel how soft your hands are.

by the end of the day, everyone takes it that the both of you are together, even though the both of you are too avoidant to talk about it.

“hey, sae? thanks for today,” you say later that night when everything is done and you’d had the giddiest experience with sae. he’s walking you home and he doesn’t even know why; it’s a mystery to him why he keeps himself close whenever he can.

“it’s fine, i was the one who told people i was going with you, so.”

when he gets you to your front porch, you don’t go in immediately, standing right there with your back facing him, and sae wonders what’s going through your head. if only he could see the expression on your face right now, maybe he’d know.

you let him; because you turn around, giving him a big smile before you take a step forward and press a chaste kiss on his cheek, immediately turning on your heel and running into your house.

neither of you say bye, both of you are just a little too stunned to speak. sae stands out there in the cold for a little while longer, his face and ears red—he’s not even sure whether it’s from the weather or from you—but even when he starts to leave, you’re still slumped at your front door, covering your face in embarrassment, knees too weak to stand up.

there’s only one more quarter left until you graduate and sae and you both act like nothing happened that day. you still gossip unfiltered and he still listens but acts like he doesn’t.

except now instead of sitting across from you, he opts to sit directly beside you. sometimes sits a little too close just so your arms will brush against each other. sae also lets you keep his puffy jacket because you said you liked it.

you wear it throughout winter.

when graduation comes around and it’s time for sae to choose his university, he can’t help but take a peek at your screen. a smile comes to his face when he sees your first choice is the same as his. you’re smart too, he doesn’t doubt you’ll get in.

“itoshi sae, you can smile?”

sae immediately turns it into a frown. “guess not.”

you take your words back. “hey, i’m just kidding! it’s just rare… that’s all.”

so you notice him a lot then?

sure, you might not have seen him smile a lot. but that’s fine. from what sae knows, you have the entirety of your university years to possibly catch it.

UNIVERSITY: FRESHMAN YEAR

of course you enter the same university as itoshi sae. it’s not on purpose, but you’re glad you both made it here anyway.

at least knowing one friendly face is better than none.

to be honest, you’re not really sure where you and sae stand. he’s never said anything about that kiss, but he also doesn’t stay away from you. can you take that as a positive thing?

if anything, he’s even closer.

somehow, his dorms and yours are practically next door. when you open your bathroom window, you can look right into his. it happened once, by accident, and you’d caught him, shirtless with just a white towel hanging around his neck, hair damp as he brushes his teeth, the droplets of water on his abs looking very inviting.

but then he caught you staring and you’ve shut your bathroom window ever since. thankfully, he never mentions it.

being in university and staying in campus meant that you were both hanging out much more informally. and you’d think that two people at the age of nineteen who’d known each other for three years would be less awkward than this but it’s you and sae and somehow there’s always an element of awkwardness.

it’s halfway into your freshman year and you’d just watched the first match that sae’s playing for the university team. you’re a little starstruck, honestly. to think that the guy you’ve always had a crush on is this good at soccer.

he’s amazing. you’re feeling like a potato sack.

“hey, you know him right?” hime gushes.

your friends are with you, so it’s natural they ask.

mira on your left sighs, “guess we have no shot with him since he’s with y/n all the time,” she says, nudging you in the elbow.

you’re starting to regret bringing them here with all the teasing. you’re also regretting coming here yourself because you see several girls running to him asking for a picture together. some of which you recognise, some of which are the popular girls.

sae doesn’t stop them from snapping what they can, but he also doesn’t stop for them at all. instead, he saunters over to you, hime and mira wordlessly disappearing to the side.

“gimme that,” sae says, gesturing to the phone in your hand. you obey, of course, and he smirks, then he snaps a selfie with you before tossing your phone back and walking off.

the pairs of eyes on you make you half-embarrassed yet half-proud. even with this many fangirls, sae chooses to come to you.

that night sae asks you to send him the picture.

yeah, maybe you can take that as a positive thing.

freshman year after that is generally uneventful. you and sae are both trying to find your footing, with him preoccupied mostly with soccer trainings while you’re drowning in assignments and projects that have nothing to do with him.

but you still see him in the mornings sometimes, when you walk past your common room and he’s in his, and you wave at him when he’s alone so you’re not so shy, and he nods in acknowledgement before he just walks away.

one night while you’re burning the midnight oil trying to cram some accounting knowledge into your brain, you get a text from sae.

wanna get supper?

both of you end up at one of the supper spots outside of school, a little cosy shop that sells boba and ramen even after midnight.

“why’d you wanna get supper?”

sae shrugs, taking a sip of his plain water. “just bored, couldn’t sleep.”

“isn’t this soccer season? you can’t even eat anything in here, it’s definitely not passable for your diet.”

he sighs, leaning back against his chair. “so? quit whining and start eating your shit already.”

if it was some other guy you’d be rolling your eyes and storming off. but it’s sae and you know him and he thinks he’s talking normally like this. besides, when you catch his eyes flicker up to lock with yours you get a little dizzy inside.

“what’re you up so late for anyway?”

sae’s fingers are drumming lightly against the surface of the metal table, teal eyes diligently observing as you bring the strands of noodle to your lips. “told you, i couldn’t sleep.”

you find that strange; he’s always been able to sleep, no problem. and he’s strict about his eight hour sleep schedule. what could be getting to the great itoshi sae?

(sae’s lying through his teeth; having his bedroom right across from yours means he can see when your lights aren’t out. sue him for being a little concerned.)

“so, heard you and the team are going on a soccer trip somewhere in europe,” you bring up. you’d heard it from your friends, strangely, instead of sae himself.

he nods. “yeah, just a select few,” he tells you, “only if we win the tournament though, then the team’ll officially invite us over.”

so-called team you heard about is real madrid, and you’d be crazy to think that sae couldn’t help your university team win on his own.

“guess i won’t be seeing you around when you go,” you mumble idly, not completely aware of what you’re basically saying.

sae is adept at reading in between the lines, but he doesn’t probe you on it. he’s not sure he wants to. he doesn’t know what this is. do you still like him? does he like you too? all these feelings are new; sae doesn’t know what to do with it.

so he keeps it to himself. for now.

he doesn’t really do a good job at following through with it though, because on the day of the tournament finals, he looks at you and winks right as he orchestrates that winning goal for his team, and you’re left wondering if you’re imagining things.

UNIVERSITY: SOPHOMORE YEAR

the final part of your freshman year went and gone, and it didn’t go exactly how you imagined it to be. you didn’t expect to hear from sae at all when he went on his trip after that tournament.

but you did.

he replied you whenever he had the time. told you anything you asked for. even called you when you had a mini meltdown because of finals.

to be frank, you don’t know what the both of you are anymore. you’re cursing yourself for being too scared to ask.

“hey y/n, have you seen hime anywhere?”

it’s oliver asking, captain of the university’s soccer team and also hime’s current situationship. he’d started hitting her up since that first time sae played and brought attention to you and the people around you.

“yeah, she’s by the pool with mira.”

oliver leaves as soon as you tell him, and you stand awkwardly at the corner of the living room, by the full panel of glass windows, wondering if you should just go home. you’d only came because hime and mira both said you needed to experience a party at least once this year but now you’re surrounded by people making out and drunkards slipping into the pool that it makes you regret giving this a shot at all.

especially since sae’s not going to be back till tomorrow, garnering as much interest as he did during his time in spain. you really have no reason to be here.

“hey there, pretty.”

startled, you find a familiar face up close in your personal space, his finger twirling your hair. you’d recognise that head of blonde and pink anywhere.

“oh, you’re ryusei shido right? you’re on the soccer team with sae,” you think out loud, and he nods, and you can see his blonde lashes so closely it’s making you flustered.

“mhm, fwhat’s a pretty girl like you doing all alone in a corner? seems like a shame,” he comments, though he doesn’t even give you a chance to answer. the next thing you know, shido drags you into a drinking game with hime and mira (which is why your first instinct wasn’t to run off, if you could trust anyone it’s your best friends). although, shido is getting annoyingly close and you can’t decide if you’re nervous or annoyed.

and the heavens surely love you when they let shido draw the card that corresponds to a dare, and they love testing your boundaries when some guy called otoya dares him to kiss you.

but no, you know that the heavens really do love you when someone yanks shido’s hair back and pulls him away from your face, taking his spot in between the both of you in the bid for proximity that you don’t mind because it’s itoshi sae.

“sae, what’re you doing here? i thought you wouldn’t be back till tomorrow,” you ask, a little shell-shocked but you still notice he’s discerning frown and how there’s barely any space between the two of you.

he looks at you, tilting his head, “what? my girl’s not happy to see me here?”

you don’t respond. half because you think you’re dreaming and fuck—really, did he just call you his girl?

“eh? i don’t recall you having a girlfriend?” shido leers, a hand on the spot of his head where sae had pulled on earlier.

“yeah, besides, shido still has to do the dare.” otoya sounds bored more than anything, but the guy beside him, karasu, if you remember correctly, is smirking.

sae sighs, and you feel like you must’ve crossed the boundary to another dimension when you feel sae’s lips on yours, and you think you’re in limbo when you feel his hand on your neck, pulling you close. his tongue pries your lips apart and people are whistling while shido’s behind him saying get a fucking room or i’ll beat off to this.

when the object of your affection finally pulls away, you’re met with the same pair of unbothered teal eyes, the pair that immediately turns to face otoya. “there, did it for him. now move on.”

you’re beginning to thank alcohol for its existence when almost everyone obeys wordlessly, moving on to some other guy’s turn. you really can’t remember who sits on shido’s right when all you can think of is that itoshi sae, your longtime high school crush, actually kissed you.

that’s enough to warrant the question, right? the question of what sae takes you for?

the inner debate sparks long into the night, even when sae walks you back to your apartment, the both of you side by side in silence.

“sae, what was that?”

he plays coy. “what was what?”

you’re only a little tipsy, so you can still tolerate his avoidance. “you confuse me a lot, you know that?”

sae doesn’t take the bait. “oh, i see.”

“you were jealous.” he was. he really was. you can tell; he was sour to shido the entire night. he stuck close to you too, sometimes your fingers brushed against each other’s.

“so what if i was?”

this one is new. sae’s actually admitting it. and usually you’d chicken out but you can see your apartment coming into view and you don’t want to let this go.

“what am i to you, sae?” you manage to choke it out a few feet away from the door, and sae stops in his tracks, hands in his pocket and teal eyes looking heavenward.

you’re beginning to regret your decision to ask; you’re not sure if his indecision is a good or bad thing. nothing seems to be simple when it comes to itoshi sae.

but he does nothing to appease your confusion when he steps in front of you, his body pressed flush against yours as he presses another kiss to your lips, and you think this one is special because it’s not done in the name of a dare or in front of anyone else. this kiss is for you and you alone and sae is doing this on purpose.

when he pulls back, you see him furrow his brows and you can tell that maybe he’s just as confused as you are.

“when i managed to get an earlier slot for my flight, all i could think about was how excited i was to see you.”

is this… a confession? you’re even more confused now that you don’t even know what to say.

to be honest, so is sae, which is why he swallows the lump in his throat and relegates to his apartment, “goodnight.”

things after that change just a little.

you’d decided to go with the flow, just because you really don’t want to sabotage whatever friendship you and sae had left, although most of the time, sae is the one toeing the line. even though he doesn’t outright tell you anything regarding his feelings.

but you think you figured him out.

sae asks you out whenever you’re both free, and not for shit like studying or errands, but for movies and dinner and he drives you around in his car and looks at you like you’re the only girl he sees. his eyes don’t wander when he’s with you, and he lets you wear even more of his jackets. it’s also evolved to his jerseys and his beloved windbreakers. you have one of each in your own closet and he never seems to ask for them back anymore. he also lets you wear his rings, puts them on your fingers randomly.

both of you still go for parties, especially when it’s one of the soccer guys who are throwing it, because they practically force sae to go and they know you’re the key to convincing him.

most of the time the two of you just laze on the couch, drinking and talking about nothing at all, and he idly plays with your fingers when he’s tipsy, something you never tell him because you like it, because you don’t want him to feel self-conscious and stop. he also smells your hair after he sends you home and hugs you before he retreats to his place, and you wonder if he’s fully sober when he does that.

you resign to getting your answer some other time, because you don’t want anything to ruin this, if this is just an illusion. yeah, you’d talking feelings some other time.

UNIVERSITY: JUNIOR YEAR

you really had no right to be, but you are. try as you might, you can’t stop yourself from feeling the way you do. especially not when she’s sitting so so close to him, when her hand brushes his fingers.

she’s just his project partner, nothing more, but something irks you about the way she can get so close to him so quickly when it took you much longer. but then you hear from shido that kaori is rin and sae’s childhood friend, so maybe that’s why they’re so damn close.

apparently, she’d gotten back to japan after ten years abroad. with great timing too, right when you thought you and sae could amount to something.

“you know, i could help you make him jealous if you wanna,” shido whispers in your ear one time when he catches you staring at them. “we’ll make him feel how you feel, m’kay?”

and while that’s tempting, you shake your head. it’s unreasonable for you to take it out on him that way, not when he hasn’t actually done anything that proves he’s just leading you on.

lately sae’s been so busy around kaori that you’re just thinking too much. you’re wondering if he’s slowly replacing you. he still talks to you over text, but you barely hang out like you did before. you still spot him through the windows, but he’s always too tired to notice you. even his texts are getting slower.

“hey, you okay?”

trust it to hime to notice your personal dilemma. you’re not really surprised though, because she’s been watching you moping for the last few weeks. she now has oliver wrapped fully around her finger, with him sticking around her all the time, which is a surprise considering his reputation.

but hime will take your side, you know this, and maybe that’s why you play it off. you don’t want her to hate sae because of a momentary feeling, so you tell her you’re just sick and you’ll go back home.

the moment you get back to your apartment, you see sae waiting out on the front, car ready while he leans against the hood, waiting.

and you might’ve asked if he was waiting for kaori, but then he looks up and sees you and smirks and that’s all you need to know that he’s not. he was waiting for you, and now he’s opening the passenger side door and telling you to “get in, stupid.”

that’s how sae is with you, impromptu and surprisingly sweet. he drives you to the pier, a cute spot right next to an amusement park where he’d gotten you some candy floss before the both of you just sits on the hood of his car, enjoying the scenery.

“why’d you suddenly bring me here?”

sae lies down, the sun hitting his face in all the right places. he’s gorgeous, you realise for what seems like the thousandth time since you’d known him.

“oliver told me you’d been a little mopey lately,” sae says, and you’re already embarrassed. “sorry if i’ve been busy lately.”

you mirror his position, lying down next to him, and it feels oddly nice like this. you’re not sure if it’s the situation or the person.

“it’s okay, i heard that kaori’s your old friend right? you guys must have a lot to catch up on.” it doesn’t stop you from feeling jealous, but it’ll pass. you hope.

sae chuckles before he turns to you, and you turn to face him too, “you’re jealous.” he smirks, and you’re reminded of the same thing you told him that first night he kissed you.

“shut up, sae.”

he laughs because you’re being pouty, and because maybe it feels a little nice to know you can feel it too. just then, he mirrors what you did way back in high school, reaching across you for your phone. except he doesn’t key in anything—he opens up your camera and takes a picture of the two of you like this, sae looking naturally handsome and better than you because you’re stunned he’s doing this, eyes wide and expression puzzled.

“what’s that for?”

sae’s still fiddling on your phone as you ask, and then he passes it back to you. he’d set it as your phone’s wallpaper.

“to remind you that you’re the one i like, idiot.”

and even though you and sae aren’t physically too close in the wallpaper, you think maybe it’s enough to tide your feelings through for now. he doesn’t ask you for anything else after that, just leaves his confession at that and sends you home before saying he has to finish up his project, aka going to find kaori.

it’s fine by you though, because now you know where sae’s head’s at, even though he never explicitly asked you anything. you’re sure he knows how you feel too, especially since you’d been the one to kiss him first that day a few years back.

but how apt for you to go to sleep early and be woken up by dozens of messages blowing up your phone, the majority of them attaching pictures at a certain party.

still pictures of sae locking lips with kaori, and you feel your heart sinking.

sae’s message comes through just as you’re scrolling through your phone.

meet me at my place? not what it looks like, i promise.

and maybe it’s because you feel like you know sae well enough that you’re not even panicking. you respond within seconds.

sure, see you!

you take the liberty of going next door, entering when one of the other guys who lives there clumsily walks in drunk. it’s easy enough to find sae’s room, you recognise it from across your own room too well. and maybe it’s a slight invasion of privacy but you can’t help but turn your attention to his desk.

his room is all neat with the occasional laundry thrown on the corner of the room, trophies and medals on the bookshelf by the table. but what catches your eye is the little pink heart-shaped post-it note that looks all too familiar.

your handwriting fills the piece of paper.

i think you’re cute and i really really like you

you could cringe right now from how cringe you were being back then. but then you realise, sae kept this? did he keep this knowing it was from you? you hear the door opening downstairs and jump back a little, accidentally pressing on his keyboard while trying to place your note back in its position, and the screensaver that greets you renders you speechless.

it’s the picture sae took of the both of you at the bleachers of his first match.

someone closes the laptop before you can think any more, and you’re greeted with sae right next to you, cheeks flushed—either from alcohol or embarrassment. you can’t really tell, but judging from the lack of alcohol stench, you’d like to bet it’s the latter.

“you have me as your wallpaper?”

sae clicks his tongue, annoyed he didn’t get there in time for you not to see that. “who else would i put there?”

you bite your tongue to stop yourself from instinctively saying kaori out of spite. guess you’re still a little groggy from being woken up in the middle of the night.

“about earlier,” sae begins, not really sure how to continue.

“you mean the pics going around of you and kaori kissing?” you’re not even mad, you’re sure there’s an explanation—that’s how much you feel you know itoshi sae. he’s not the type to bother with leading someone on; if anything, he’s probably the type to immediately cut things off if he wasn’t interested and so far, he’s always been thinking of you.

sae sighs, rubbing his temple before taking a seat on his bed. “that was fucking stupid,” he grumbles, eyes closed. “she was way too tipsy and getting all up in my face and before i knew it she just—” his eyes are open now, briefly looking at you before looking away, hiding behind the sides of his soft locks, “she kissed me. i was stunned for a little so…”

you snicker a little, because sae looks so different from how he usually looks—aloof, ignorant, arrogant. now he looks like a puppy who’s been kicked to the side and you can’t help but notice the difference.

“sae… why are you telling me this?”

screw his indecisiveness, if it was in the first place. you want his answer now, up straight. and sae seems to know what you’re thinking because he chuckles, relieved because he can read your tone—you’re not angry, not upset, you trust him somehow and it’s only because despite what you think, you know him better than anyone else.

“fuck off, y/n, you already know,” and he says this affectionately because you can feel the tenderness in the way he says your name, in the way he invites you into his arms—the way he pulls you close and lets you sit facing him on his lap. “you gonna be my girlfriend now or what?”

your lips are so so close and you’re both holding back so so much. “mmm i don’t know, itoshi sae, what if i wanna see you beg me for it?”

“god, i hate you,” he says, without meaning it. it’s the first time you’re actually feeling how strong he is, because he lifts you up from the back of your thighs and throws you on his bed as he hovers over you, a little squeal leaving your lips at the unexpected gesture. “hm, kinda like that sound you make.”

he’s saying it so monotonously that you’re embarrassed. “shut up, sae, before i leave.”

“that’s cute, you think you’d actually leave me,” he teases, and you curse yourself for finding that slight condescending tone of his hot. “but hey, really, be my girlfriend.”

“you asking me that after kissing another girl?” you act shocked, acutely aware of how his fingers are all intertwining with yours, your hands on either side of your head, sae pinning you down. if anyone walked in now, they’d get the wrong idea of what you two are doing. for sure. but you try to act unbothered, you don’t want to boost his ego even more.

sae leans down to press his forehead against yours, and you’re hoping your heart doesn’t leap out of your chest because he’d definitely feel it. “shit timing, i know. but you’re the only one i want, so.”

he’s pretty shit at talking emotions, you realise. and then you realise that this only works because you’re equally good at reading his. despite his reluctance to talk emotions, he shows you how special you are, constantly.

many girls want him, but you’re the one he spends most of his time with. you’re the one with his actual clothes in your closet and his rings on your fingers. you’re the one sae kisses and willingly so, the only one who’s on his wallpaper reminding him of what he’ll have each time he comes home.

“i told kaori i liked you and no one else too,” sae continues explaining, though he really doesn’t need to. you listen anyway. “she got mad and stormed off but shit, i don’t care. only care about you.”

and he’s pretty forthcoming with his feelings when he wants to be and that’s enough for you. you squeeze his fingers lightly and smile at him.

you don’t have to hear any more to know.

“i love you too, itoshi sae.”

the way he marks you that night lets you in on everything you need to know.

UNIVERSITY: SENIOR YEAR

six years.

it’s been six years since you’d first had a crush on itoshi sae. and now you’re his girlfriend, always in the front row for every match and the object of most of his fangirls’ hatred. that’s okay though, none of that matters.

whenever you come back home to your (shared) apartment now, it’s like all your worries melt away into the void, and sae reminds you just how much you mean. even if his pet names are less than swoon-worthy at times.

“you really need to stop posting shit like this,” you deadpan, showing sae your phone screen. it’s a picture of you asleep in the morning, drooling on his bare shoulder.

sae blinks, acting coy like he always does. “what? it’s cute.”

“you’re insufferable, itoshi.”

sae ignores that, switching the subject. “hey, you have any goals for your twenties?”

you hum, pondering. “well, i guess if i could do what i want, i’d travel the world,” you pause, sitting up on the sofa and looking at him. “why?”

it’s the last year of university, and the both of you are finishing your degrees, with the possibility that sae might be getting a contract with one of the overseas clubs. you’re not really sure; there’s a few of them who’ve expressed interest, but you’d always let sae think through it on his own.

does his question have something to do with that?

“was thinking i wanted to take you along if you wanted to come with,” sae half explains, because he’s bad with details like that. he continues when he spots your confusion, “if you wanted to explore wherever i decided to go.”

oh, he means he wants to take you along to wherever he decided to go. you’re flattered, honestly.

“you mean, the itoshi sae wants to bring me wherever he goes, huh?” sae is already turning red, sensing your big head. “you offering to be my sugar daddy too?”

sae sighs. “you’re so stupid, i swear,” he complains, his words lacking any bite because he’s rubbing circles onto your arms. “you said you found some remote jobs right? thought we could make use of that and just go wherever together.”

after six years, you finally see sae trying to plan a future where the both of you are together. he loves soccer, but he loves you too, and you’re not the kind of person who’d make him choose, so you appreciate his compromises instead.

“itoshi sae, i’ll follow you wherever you go.”

he presses a hasty kiss on your lips, “good, ‘cause i plan on keeping you forever.”

you grin, pulling him down to you and kissing him even deeper, “i’ll hold you to your words, then.”

sae smiles against your lips. because he knows he got lucky with you, lucky you were there at the right moment, slipping your love letter into his locker. lucky you continued to like him, lucky you knew how to put him in his place whenever. lucky you’re you and you love him.

maybe he’s always liked you, even back in freshman year of high school when he realised how kind you are, how gentle you could be. you looked pretty in the sun that day, when he first saw you trying out soccer in the yard and falling flat on your ass. you didn’t notice him back then but he noticed you, not that you knew. sae didn’t try anything because he was sure it’d fail. but who knew all it took for his mind to change was a simple nudge from you?

he’s pretty sure that you’re his human manifestation of a forever.

“when the time comes, just say yes.”

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ludwig-van-gaythoven · 5 months

Text

Cabin Fever - (Regina George x F Reader) Part 3

Fandom;

Mean Girls (2024)

Pairings:

Regina George x Reader

Summary:

The students of Northshore go on a school trip for a week in the forest. You end up getting to know the apex predator in a way you’d never seen her before.

Warnings;

ED mentions.

Parts:

Part 1// Part 2// Part 3// Part 4// Part 5// Part 6

When you wake in the morning, Regina is already gone. She’s probably gone to meet with Karen and Gretchen for breakfast, pushing food around her plate more like. You’ve noticed some of your leftovers have gone missing, you don’t mind though. At least it means she’s eating something.

You’re not sure why she seems to relax around you enough to eat, something she can’t seem to do around her supposed best friends.

You have to remind yourself you aren’t her friend but the sketch is still neatly folded under her pillow, whatever that means.

You have a quick shower, throw on some jeans and a band tee and go to the campfire pit to hear what activity you’ll have to do today. It might mean being paired with Regina again, although she acts like a completely different person with you in public. You can see straight through her act. The more you see of her, the more you realise she’s not cruel, bitchy or formidable. She’s scared and a little insecure.

“Today half of you will be boating and half of you will be climbing! Cabins 1-6 follow me and cabins 7-12 meet your leader at the high ropes in 5 minutes!” The instructor calls.

Fuck no.

You try and sneak away slowly, if there’s one thing you’re afraid of, it’s heights. Maybe you can sneak off with the boating group, that sounds less scary, and safer.

It doesn’t work, Mrs Norbury catches you and sends you off in the direction of the high ropes. It’s not like they can force you to climb, right?

They’re laughing about something, you can’t tell what. Maybe Regina’s already making fun of you, maybe she’s gone through your bags to find anything embarrassing to tell her best friends. Maybe she’s taken a photograph of your sketch to prove you’re a loser, freak or whatever. She did similar to Janis, what’s stopping her from doing the same to you?

Maybe not.

You think you saw a glimpse of the real Regina underneath all the pink and glitter, last night.

An instructor calls out that the session is starting. For once this week you stop thinking about Regina.

You can already feel your heartbeat in your ears as you approach the climbing frame. You’re instructed on how to correctly fit your harnesses and told to line up and go over one at a time across the high ropes.

It was like an assault course in the air. First some wooden stepping stones, then walking across a tightrope with just a rope above to balance yourself, and then finally a zip line. You felt your stomach flip, there had to be a way out. You couldn’t have Regina see you having a full-blown panic attack.

Regina is just in front of you in the queue, she doesn’t turn to look at you even once. You’re slightly hurt but not surprised. It’s not like one evening of civility means she could be seen with you in public.

The plastics climb up and start to walk across. Gretchen and Karen walk in front, screaming and giggling the whole way. Regina saunters across, nothing phases her. As she climbs across the rope you can see the muscles under her pink crop top tensing, it makes you momentarily forget about what you have to do until the instructor calls out that it’s your turn next.

Okay, just breathe and whatever you do, don’t look down.

You climb up to the top platform. It’s just a walk across some stable wooden platforms. You can do this. You stare straight ahead, ignoring the thumping of your heart, your hands clammy against the ropes. As long as you don’t look down you’ll be fine.

By some miracle you make it across. The next obstacle is a walk across a tightrope. This one makes you cold sweat.

You start to shake more. Regina is already across the other side standing and waiting to go across the next obstacle. She still looks like a goddess, and you probably look like a sweaty mess. For the first time today she turns and looks at you, her expression is hard to work out, maybe pity? Probably amusement.

You put one foot tentatively on the rope and hold for dear life onto the top rope. You shuffle across in an ungraceful manner. Hopefully Regina has turned her back by now. This would definitely be blackmail material.

Every time the rope moves you feel like you’ll fall, any second you could faint, or throw up, or maybe have a heart attack.

You edge closer to the finishing platform, you can see the edge of it and make the mistake of looking down.

The ground becomes blurry and feels like it’s 3,000 feet away.

Your stomach lurches and your foot slips.

Desperation fills you and without thinking you desperately reach your hand out, hoping Regina will grab It, pull you back up and you won’t feel that dreaded falling sensation.

Instead she shoves you.

Hard.

You fall from the rope, your heart nearly stops and you can’t open your eyes. The harness catches you but you’ve swung sideways from the rope and the force of Regina’s push makes you come crashing back, your hip colliding with the wooden platform.

The pain is immediate, and searing.

An instructor lowers you down and a teacher demands that Regina comes down too to take you to first aid.

She does this begrudgingly, her little minions whining that it’s not fair that she has to pay the price when you ‘just slipped.’

You don’t look at her or speak to her on your way to first aid. With every step your hip explodes with pain. You try not to show how hard it is to walk. This wasn’t the same Regina you hung out with last night.

Never show your weakness to a predator. That was your first mistake.

“ I wouldn’t have had to do that if you didn’t try to touch me.” She spat, staring at the ground as you walked. Was she ashamed?

“Whatever Regina. I don’t care.” You sigh, wincing again as you step.

She huffs and rolls her eyes at you as you finally make it to first aid. She leaves you at the door.

The first aider confirms that she doesn’t think it’s fractured or broken. Just badly bruised. When she asks what happened you lie and say you slipped. She doesn’t buy it but she doesn’t push any further. She gives you some pain medicine and an ice pack and suggests you go and rest for a bit in your cabin.

You go back and lie in your bed on your back with the ice pack slowly melting away at your hip, making the sheets wet and cold.

Luckily Regina is out somewhere, she’s probably snuck off to one of the plastics cabins.

It’s not like you care anyway.

You decide not to get dinner today. The thought of limping all the way to the campfire sounds awful and you don’t want to give Regina the satisfaction of knowing she hurt you so you try and get some sleep.

Your phone buzzes and lights up on the nightstand. It’s Janis.

“Heeey Dude! How’s the school trip? Wait why are you in bed it’s not even late” the voice of your best friend rings out down the phone.

“Long story, I slipped climbing.” You don’t know why you lie to Janis. You don’t feel like talking about Regina.

You know that despite them being on civil terms now, Janis and Regina still held a grudge respectively. Secretly you knew Janis definitely still had a crush on her, not that she’d ever admit it. At first you didn’t understand why Janis would fall for someone so fake and shallow but now you’ve seen the other side to her. Or is it just a disguise for her to gain your trust? You trusted she’d catch you and instead she pushed you away.

“Are you even listening to me?” Janis breaks you out of your thoughts.

“Huh”

“I said, has Regina fallen in mud, or ruined her boots or had bugs in her hair yet?” You can hear the grin in her voice, and a slight hint of excitement from speaking about Regina.

“Uh, I don’t know… I haven’t really seen her.” You lie again. Why can’t you stop lying to your friend?

“Anyway Janis I have to go, I should probably go and get dinner now, the teachers will wonder where I am.” Another lie “Bye!” You add quickly and hang up.

You sigh and throw your phone back onto the nightstand. You close your eyes again and try and get some sleep.

The painkillers have kicked in and you finally drift off.

You’re in the middle of a forest in a clearing. For some reason you feel uneasy. The trees are all looming around you, as if they’re trying to warn you, leaning closer to whisper “Run” in their windy breath. From between the trees you see a bright pair of blue cat eyes. They’re fixed on you. Unblinking.

You try to get up to run but you can’t move, you’re fixed to the spot as a lion emerges from the trees, claws sharp and teeth bared just about to clamp down on your neck-

Something shakes you awake. Or rather, someone.

“Get up.” You hear Regina hiss.

“What, why?” You mumble back, rubbing your eyes. Her silhouette is blurry above you.

“Come with me.”

“Why the fuck should I.” Your response shocks both of you,she scowls and grabs your wrist to drag you up.

“Just come with me.”

“Fuck off, Regina.” You spit

She doesn’t say anything, just tightens her grip on your wrist and pulls you up.

There’s no use resisting. Stupidly you follow her. Why would you trust her after she pushed you, you’re walking yourself to your doom.

She leads you to a clearing in the trees. Just like your dream, everything in your body is telling you to run.

And then you see it.

A hot pink blanket is sprawled out on the floor and you recognise various containers of food you’d bought laid out on the blanket. There’s two fluffy white pillows either side of the blanket.

“Say something, dumbass!” She barks, she doesn’t meet your eyes and you notice a slight blush on her cheeks

“What’s happening.” You stutter. Surely not, why would Regina have gone to all this effort? Is she trying to apologise?

“I saw you weren’t at dinner and I didn’t want you to starve or something. I’m not sleeping in the same room as a corpse.” She quips, going to sit on one of the pillows. You follow and sit on the other, are you still dreaming?

You eat in silence for a while. Every now and then stealing glances at Regina. She’s actually eating some of the food, looking down at the blanket in thought. The sun is setting and the light manages to catch her in a way that makes her even more perfect. Her cheeks are slightly rosy and you notice she’s taken off most of her makeup. She looks softer, like her guard has dropped slightly.

“I’m sorry I pushed you.” She whispers and her eyes catch yours. She looks genuinely sorry.

Against better judgement you immediately forgive her. You can’t hold much resolve against her when she’s sitting at a picnic she made for you and the sun is reflecting off her skin like that.

“It’s okay, I’m fine anyway.” That’s half a lie, it still hurts quite badly. “Thanks for this. You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted you to know I’m sorry, really, and…. Your food is better than the shit they serve here.” She fidgets nervously “It’s nice to eat without Gretch and Karen commenting on the fat content of it.”

That makes your stomach sink. You wonder how anyone could ever think that Regina was anything but beautiful.

“We could have dinner together tomorrow too, if you wanted” that definitely didn’t come out as confident as you wanted it to.

She doesn’t say anything but she smiles at you. Your heart skips.

After you finish eating you pack up Regina’s cute picnic and make your way back to the cabin. You resist the fleeting urge to hold her hand. You don’t want to get shoved again.

She goes to the bathroom to shower and you pull out your sketchbook. You draw the same forest clearing before, sketching in all the leaves, except this time the lion is lying on a blanket, eyes closed, peaceful.

You put the sketchbook back in your bag and get changed into pyjama shorts and a top before laying on top of the covers on the bed.

You’re drifting in and out of consciousness when Regina comes out of the bathroom, you hear her pad quietly towards your bed.

As if not to scare her off you stay perfectly still, eyes shut, and pretend to be asleep.

You feel her hand pull the leg of your shorts up at the side to reveal the darkening bruise at your hip.

Your heart nearly implodes when you feel her gentle lips press a soft kiss to your hip.

It’s over in a second, she goes back to her bed and pulls the covers over her head.

You let out a shaky breath and decided you would probably never be able to figure Regina George out, but at this current moment, you didn’t really mind.

#mean girls #wlw #mean girls 2024 #mean girls fanfic #regina george #regina george fanfic #regina george x reader #regina george x you #renee rapp #cabin fever

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wishluc · 1 year

Note

Oh god please elaborate on the Express Eatery thing! I love having Luocha as a customer

Going over this with Luocha, Yukong, Jing Yuan and Blade!

CW: yandere characters

So you work at the Express Eatery, and you start to notice that Luocha comes in every day with a new menu item he wants to try out. While waiting for his order he asks about your time on the Express and the meals you like and how you're finding the Luofu so far. He refuses to elaborate on the coffin he carries around or on anything else about his job apart from the "traveling merchant" line, but you let it slide because he's nice enough otherwise. He also tips very generously, and leaves glowing reviews, which may or may not play a role in you liking him despite how suspicious he can be at times. After he's cycled through all the items, however, he starts asking for other things; snacks you like to eat, whatever you usually have for breakfast, a dessert you're craving for, etc. And he starts bringing in dishes that he likes, and asks for you to eat them with him during your break (even waits outside your stall until you take your break, if you try and lie your way out of it). And when the day comes that you have to pack up and leave your short-lived stall behind, you do so without informing your number 1 customer, which doesn't go across well.

But how were you to know Luocha had also met Dan Heng before, and would be visiting the Express the very next day?

Other customers you meet include Yukong, who's sweet and has the most interesting stories for you. She offers to pilot a Starskiff for you (and promises that she's not a reckless driver anymore, unlike the stories of her youth she may have told you about), invites you to lively parties once you're done for the day, and even shows you around the Luofo herself. You do notice, however, that her eyes dim and her smile fades when you mention leaving the Luofo, even if you don't comment on it. Coming up to the days before you close the stall, she takes you on increasingly exciting trips around the Luofo, all the while assuring you that there is still much to see, as though to entice you into stay longer...

There's also Jing Yuan, who stays for long periods whenever he stops by. He stands by your stall with a languid smile, talking to you while eating. He has a habit of distracting you with sudden questions when ever you notice just how long he's been standing around, asking you about your thoughts on a dish or how long you've been with the Crew. And while his exterior is perfectly relaxed with you, if anyone else dares approach while he's there, all it takes is one inquisitive look from him to send the intruder scurrying away. You've never thought the General to be that frightening, but you supposed his position warranted some extent of fear. Normally, you would be a little irritated about how he was obstructing business, but there was no doubt his pleasant conversation and generous hand made for far better company than a queue of customers in a rush to their next stop.

But a few days before you're set to close the stall, you get approached by a group of officials who warn you that doing business without a permit is illegal. Apparently, whatever documents March got for your little side business wasn't enough, and you were missing some important components. Fortunately, Jing Yuan steps in and offers to help you settle the problem at once, and as you gratefully accept his assistance (with a promise to treat him to a serving of Cosmic Fried Rice on the house sometime). To your surprise, however, you're told that you're required to stay and continue doing business on the Luofu for another few weeks before the license is granted, and you find yourself having no choice but to comply. At least, the General is here to keep you company, right?

At first Blade stopped by only to pick up a serving or two before leaving right after, never indulging in conversation unlike your other patrons. Even his reviews were short and to the point, simply leaving a rating of 5 stars along with his moniker—but as long as it was a good review, you had no complaints. However, as time went by and you saw him increasingly more often (though you took note of the fact that he'd only ever come by when the shade fell across your stall just right and there were little to no other customers), he'd comment on your methods and packaging, with odd lines such as "The box didn't come apart even after a fight," and begin ordering in advance for the next day—he claimed this was a far more efficient system, and offered to pay extra as a booking fee.

He comes off a little strange at times, with his unnerving smile and his peculiar comments, but you think that Blade's one of your better customers. He's patient and his requests are simple, and he deals swiftly with any troublemakers around your stall. Surprisingly, him swinging around his sword threateningly doesn't discourage new customers from checking your stall out. So when the day comes that you have to inform him that there was no tomorrow for his order to be prepared in advance, Blade only regards you with a pensive look and the smallest of nods, before leaving. You would miss him, despite his oddities.

And then you're told that you have to accommodate for a temporary addition on the Astral Express, someone sent by Kafka, and who awaits you in the parlor car but Blade himself?

all works © wishluc. do not copy, steal or repost my works on other platforms. (including translations)

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cordeliawhohung · 1 year

Note

Hi!!! i absolutely loovveeddd your simon drabble - maybe u could write a drabble ab mean teasing ghost making u get off on his thighs😭 haven’t been able to get that off my mind in the last couple of days KENFNSKWK THANK YOU

hi!!!! thank you so much! <3 (yall are seriously too sweet) once again (not to beat a dead horse or anything) but i just wanna reiterate that i am very much out of my depth here, but i really hope it's to your liking!

minors dni, thigh riding (obvi), small use of pet names, simon's having too much fun teasing, he's a little mean but still praising, def still a dick tho, slight banter (not proofread very well...)

Riding His Thigh

It starts on the couch in the living room. What was supposed to be a peaceful and quiet night in with a home cooked meal and a movie turned into wandering hands and needy mouths pressed together. You ended up in his lap like you normally do, legs spread apart to accommodate the wideness of his hips just to straddle him.

There was something different about this time, though. Simon's hands moved languid and soft along your sides, and you whined at the lack of want, the lack of force to his grip. You pull out of the kiss with a small pout, and your hands instantly slither down to the band of his jeans.

"Simon..." you whimper, the want evident in your voice as you tug at his zipper. "Fuck... need you so bad..."

That was supposed to be his queue, the green light, but instead he gently pushed your hands away before resting his own on your hips. Then he's pushing you back a little, forcing your leg to slip away from his hips and down towards his thighs where you're then stuck straddling one.

"Gonna need you to work a bit harder than that, sweetheart," he says, his voice laced with a dangerous promise that tells you that he means every word.

You want to argue, you want to pitch a fit and whine saying you can't wait, or that he's cruel for even suggesting such a thing, but then his grip on your hips tighten, and he slowly rocks you along his thigh. It sends a sharp jolting feeling up through your stomach that satisfies your insatiable need for him for only a moment before it washes away with a single breath. You know exactly what he's wanting, and though you're whining about it, you know you don't want to deny him.

Eventually you begin to move on your own, and despite the muted but delicious friction through the fabric of your shorts you stare at Simon with a look that tells him you're not happy about this one bit. He's too busy enjoying the show to mind, though. His hands stay firmly on your hips, refusing to aid you but feeling every single sway of your body.

"There we go," he coos as he relaxes further into the couch.

It's annoying how the baritone of his voice heats your core so hot it swelters. You want to call him names, let your frustrations be known, tell him you want him to fuck you properly. But it's like he can read your mind, and he bounces his leg over so slightly, ripping a sharp gasp from those pretty, pouting lips as the pressure increases and decreases on your clit all too suddenly.

You don't care anymore. You ride his thigh shamelessly, hands resting firmly against his shoulders as you do. Your own thighs tighten around him as you feel the wetness collect in the fabric of your underwear. A whiny moan erupts from you as you clench down around nothing, and despite your frustration you continue through it.

"C'mon," Simon urges gruffly. Suddenly he sits up straight, his grip on your flesh tightening as he now joins in helping you get off on his thigh. "Just once, yeah? Need you to cum for me and I'll give you what you want."

His lips are so close to yours you're nearly kissing but not quite. Every breath you breathe is pushed into his mouth, and you can feel the way his words feel on your skin.

"Just like that, c'mon love," he continues. "Cum for me and I'm all yours."

A few more desperate ruts and pathetic moans later and you're coming undone on his thigh. A small cry leaves your lips as your cunt pulses around absolutely nothing, and you bite into your lip as you slump forward, your forehead resting against his lips. The frustration builds in you again almost instantly as you know that orgasm would have felt ten times better had he stopped teasing and gave you his cock.

"Fuckin' perfect," Simon praises, but his hands don't stop moving. Your poor, overstimulated clit endures more of his teasing as his firm grip forces your body to rock against him once more. He chuckles when you whine. "What? Too much for you?" he teases.

"Fuck you," you bite, but your words quickly fall away as he bounces his knee once more.

"That's the point, isn't it?"

master list and tag lists can be found here!

#core responds #request #sorry this was short lmao #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley x reader smut #cod smut #ghost mw2 smut #smut #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x you smut

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twilghtkoo · 1 year

Note

have you seen the tiktok of a girl who made her boyfriend a little sprout to put on his gaming headset ??? its so cute and reminded me of hyuck 🤏🏻

pairings. streamer!haechan x reader (f)

genre. fluff

note. STOP RN ANON i haven’t seen that tiktok but i’ve seen some where ppl make a lil sprout bc a few months ago i crocheted me a sprout for my headphones 😭 but THIS IS SO CUTE BC HAECHAN WOULD LOVE IT thank u for sending me this,,,, here’s another streamer/gamer hyuck drabble

[ haechan masterlist | masterlist ]

—

“i play val a few times but i prefer overwatch, they’re both enjoyable but overwatch is better in a lot of ways, for me personally. but if i’m in the mood for a tense flick-type game, then i play val.” haechan answers a comment, as he’s waiting in the game queue.

he’s sitting relaxed in his gaming chair as he watches the comments fill in. some disagree with him and some agree.

“which one does yn like? she likes overwatch more, she likes that there’s a more wide range of characters than val. she’s not really into fps games, she says they’re too intense for her.” he chuckles at that. “she only plays overwatch because i do and because she wanted to bond with me since it’s one of my favorite games. she’s cute,” he mumbles the last sentence, grinning as he continues reading numerous comments from his viewers.

chat is going crazy at the mention of you.

he’s about to read another comment before you quietly knock on his door, he whips his head around to see you carefully peeking your head through the crack of the door.

you have a sheepish smile, knowing he’s streaming and you didn’t want to bother him but you also have something you really wanted to show him.

haechan doesn’t seem to be bothered at all, because he smiles at you waving you inside.

“what’s up baby?” he slides one side of his headset off, letting you know he’s listening.

you make sure to stay out of the camera since you’re only wearing a t-shirt, one of his t-shirts to be exact. and the end of the shirt stop just below your butt.

you take your hand out from behind your back to reveal a green crocheted sprout.

“ooo, what’s this?” his eyes widen as he carefully takes it into the palm of his hands to closely examine it. he admires how neatly each chain is and how precise it is to a sprout. the two leaves shaped perfectly.

“i made this for you, it’s a sprout and it’s supposed to go on your headset.” you explain.

he spins his chair around to face you and he slides off his headset. “really? how, put it on for me.”

you lightly giggle as you take the headset from him to slowly loop the sprout around the top.

you squeal out of excitement but also taking pride at how good it came out. “see!”

“woah, baby this is so cute.” he gasps, putting his headset back on and looks at himself on the camera.

“chat, look what yn made me!” he shows off the top of his head, scooting closer to the camera that sits on top of his monitor and scooting back.

“hi chat!” you spoke up, finally greeting yourself to his viewers.

“it looks like a sprout is growing on top of my head,” he expresses. shaking his head left to right watching the sprout wiggle.

he rolls his chair a bit off camera to wrap his arms around your waist, squeezing you. “thank you, i love it. it’s staying on my headset.”

your arms circle around him before your hands curl around the back of his hair, softly tugging it. “you’re welcome, i’m gonna make me one now so we’re matching.”

you pat his back as he unwraps his arms around you and rolls back in front of his desk.

“bye chat!” you say out loud, as you’re at the door, blowing your boyfriend a kiss before leaving.

user i just want what they have

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bedsyandco · 1 month

Text

PODCAST CONFESSIONS

( 𝒑 ) airing , emerson du pont x will smith [ au masterlist ]

( 𝒔 ) ummary , in which will goes on a hockey podcast a few weeks before the draft and spills his secrets.

( 𝒘 ) arnings , language! some cuss words

( 𝒏 ) ote , this is a bit of a prologue of sorts before we get to the other fics in the au . . . please feel free to spam my inbox with questions or thoughts about em and will <3

will was a tad bit nervous as someone from the crew adjusted the mic in front of his face and he took a deep breath as he tried to remind himself that this was supposed to be fun.

a quick, harmless little interview a few weeks before the draft, was supposed to be good for his image, or so his agent says. will didn’t think he was known enough to even have an image to begin with but what did he know. his agent says jump and he asks how high. until he gets drafted at least.

“nervous?” the host of the podcast will was going on asks him breaking his train of thought

“nah , excited,” will responds, sending a big smile the host’s way. of course he was nervous. no amount of media training could stop the clamminess of his hands or the increase of his heartbeat when it came to interviews. but will was good at faking it. putting on his pretty boy smile and charming everyone so much that they didn’t notice the nerves underneath the cocky boy exterior.

“okay , let’s get started then. remember at any point you need a moment or don’t wanna answer a question just ask for a break and we’ll stop filming and reset,” the hosts reassures will and he begins to think that maybe his poker face needs some adjusting.

“we're good to go in three, two, one. . ." the person behind the camera begins a countdown and presses a button, showing a thumbs up to queue the host to start speaking. most of will's nerves stem from the amount of people in this room currently. he thought this was some small podcast with some local boston sports fans but with the amount of filming and production equipment the set could be mistaken for the late night show.

after introducing will and listing off a few of his most recent stats the host finally jumps into some questions and will finds himself relaxing and talking more easily with each answer. the questions range from the u18s, playing with gabe and ryan, the decision to commit to BC and the upcoming draft.

"we're almost done. we've talked a lot about hockey but I think the fans of whatever team you're gonna get drafted on really want to know the guy beneath the stats so we're gonna play a quick game of instant questions. I'm gonna ask a series of questions and you have to say the first answer that comes to mind. It's supposed to go back and forth quickly so it shouldn't take too long," the host explains and will smiles nervously

"sounds dangerous," will jokes and the host laughs

"you'll be fine. the questions are harmless don't worry. favourite colour?" the host starts off

"blue," will answers a second later

"favourite genre of music?"

"country at the moment. my taste in music is versatile though, it depends on the mood I'm in," will explains

"beach or mountains?"

"is lake an option?" will asks and the host laughs before agreeing

"city or country?"

"city,"

"celebrity crush?"

"emerson du pont," the name falls off will's tongue without thinking and immediately regrets it when the host and some people behind the cameras let out amused scoffs.

"interesting choice." the host says, and will feels his cheeks heat up

did he really just admit to having a crush on an NHL team owner's daughter? on a hockey podcast of all places? a few weeks before he's supposed to get drafted?

"well I mean she's a model, very involved in her community, takes classes at Harvard. smart, kind, beautiful. what's not to love? you can't blame a guy. . ." will shrugs, trying to shake off the confession and keep his cool and he bites his lip to keep him from digging himself an even bigger hole. now he sounds like either a fan of the girl or a stalker. great going will.

"true. you should shoot your shot. DM her or something," the host says and will keeps his face from portraying what an absolute disaster that would be

“uh yeah, maybe,” he replies and feels relieved when the host moves on to another question and a few minutes later the interview wraps up and will says all the necessary greetings before making his way back to his hotel where him and the boys were staying while in town. he got there as soon as possible, and gabe and ryan was eagerly awaiting a report on how it went. of course they didn't hold back when he told them about the one question. . .

"you might as well have just called up her dad and said 'hey mr. du pont, I wanna fuck your daughter. mind adding that into the contract when you draft me in a couple of weeks?" ryan mocks and gabe rubs his first over his mouth to contain his laugh.

"fuck's sake lenny, you hear what you sound like right now? you really need to think before you say things," will says sending his friend a look

"looks like we could both use some help in that department bud," ryan responds

“I doubt I’m gonna get drafted by the sharks anyway,” will says and sends gabe a “back me up here” kinda look.

“I mean — the possibility is very likely. and even if you’re not, you’re definitely getting interviewed by them,” gabe responds and will sighs, dropping his head to the back of the couch and rubbing his hands over his face in obvious distress

“It’s not really that big of a deal. You didn’t say anything offensive. You just said she’s your celebrity crush and she’s hot. Which I mean she is. And everyone has a crush on her,” gabe says, trying to ease his friend’s worries a bit

“yeah but no one was stupid enough to say it on a hockey podcast,” ryan chips in and will throws a pillow his way without even looking

“The podcast isn’t that big. I doubt anyone but the few loyal listeners are gonna hear what you said,” gabe says and will nods, agreeing.

but not even two days later the clip of him naming her as his celebrity crush was all of his for you page, posted on twitter, and even making rounds on some hockey fan accounts on instagram. and all will could hope for was that somehow the clip hasn’t been seen by any of the sharks’ employees.

▸ hockeyhub posted a new video!

-> will smith talks U18s, upcoming draft and celeb crushes

• video transcript here

[ view all comments ]

sharksfan35: kid is brave. i’ll give him that . . .

hockeyfan83: admitting you have a crush on a team owner’s daughter a few weeks before you’re supposed to get drafted is insane behaviour

hockeyuser65: yeah no, you admit to having a crush on my daughter I make sure you never step foot in my organization

user62: I think a lot of people are forgetting that emerson is a very well known model. a lot of people don’t even know she’s the sharks owner’s daughter.

-> user89: I get what you’re saying. and this might be true for the general population. but there’s no way he didn’t know

user79: it would actually be insanely cute if they ended up getting together now

-> user90: do you think she’s seen the video?

-> user79: it kinda blew up so I think her PR team definitely saw it but whether or not they showed her? I don’t know

#ᰔ ─ emerson + will #will smith hockey blurb #will smith hockey x oc #will smith hockey

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73ghosts · 8 months

Text

I'm sure many of you are already aware of this, but in case I have any newer tumblr users, pet bill donation scams are very common on this site. If someone DMs or sends you an ask asking you to reblog some sort of donation post for a sick/injured pet, it is most likely a scam.

Below the cut, I have included tips to spotting a scam, and why I believe the post by 507-on-queue is a scam. @kyra45 runs an excellent tumblr scam awareness blog, and has more information and tips here about spotting pet scams. I have archived the scam post in question on my side blog here.

Here's some ways to spot these scams:

Age of the blog - most scam blogs are a week old or younger, they are often under a day old

Similar urls being used for multiple blogs - scam blogs are typically blocked/deleted rapidly, and the OP makes a new account with almost the same name

The blog bio/pfp are not unique

You can only access the dashboard view of the blog so the post archive cannot be accessed (for example, my dashboard view is this, but you can also visit my webpage view and see my 9 years of post history via /archive lol)

The blog has never interacted with you before

The blog follows you and immediately sends a DM/ask

The DM/ask is overly polite and guilt trips (they often ask you to reply privately to reduce digital footprint)

Images of pets can be found via reverse image search

OP's story is inconsistent or unrealistic

The Paypal link does not match the supposed country OP lives in

Most recently, a scam post has been going around about a sphynx cat named Draven. This has been done using multiple urls, including:

meer-lion (deactivated)

507-on-queue (deactivated)

507onqueue (deactivated)

507-onqueue (current as of Jan 13th, 2024)

Here's how this blog meets our scam watch criteria:

The current blog (507-onqueue) is less than a day old (19 hours at the time of this post). The oldest post:

As listed above, OP uses multiple, similar URLs.

The bio of 507-onqueue is taken almost directly from another user (said user). Due to the same bio being used in previous scams, I suspect this is the same or related person to kappa-tundra/kappatundra (about this scam).

Scam blog:

Copied blog:

Only dashboard view is available.

The blog follows and immediately DMs/sends and ask. From my account:

The ask from the account is very polite, guilt trips, and asks me to answer to the post privately. The goal of being so polite is to win your trust and lower your defenses. This isn't the worst guilt trip I've been in a scam (that goes to the child support scam from several years ago). By asking me to reply privately, they're attempting to reduce their digital footprint (making them harder to google) and disguise how much they are spamming asks.

The information in that post was taken from a private Facebook account (source). I found the Facebook account in question and confirmed that the information was taken from there. I do not want to share the page because I view that as a further violation of the Facebook OP's privacy. For transparency, the images of Draven are not on Facebook OP's page any longer, but there are several other identifiable pieces of information that make it more than likely that the claims of her information being stolen are true.

The ask is inconsistent itself with the name of the cat (Draven vs Indie). This is also nearly identical to another scam ask from user captbridges. This user was using a real GoFundMe for a sick cat to scam.

The medical paperwork in OP's post is for a veterinary hospital in Wisconsin. However, OP's PayPal is based in the Philippines. The country.x= part of the url indicate the country of origin of the account; PH is the Philippines. The local.x= part of the url shows that the link was localized to the United States (making the donation currency USD). (PayPal's information page about country codes).

Stay safe out there and remain vigilant, everyone. If you don't already know them, try to pick up some boolean operators to refine your google searches when checking for scams. The tumblr search function sucks, so this is your best bet of finding information about scams like these online.

#meer-lion #507-on-queue #507-onqueue #507onqueue #scam alert #scam #You all can feel free to reblog this if you want #I normally make posts like this when a scam comes my way #But I haven't actually seen one in a while lol

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runningfrom2am · 11 months

Note

Can we get a blurb where an accident happens on set and drew has to do cpr on reader who he’s been secretly dating for a while?

thank you for this request omg!! and i thought this was so perfect to post for drews birthday :') i miss him

wrong place, right time - d.s.

pairing: drew x fem!reader

wc: 1.5k

tags/warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, injury but not violence, idk no one dies and its not very descript so its p safe

requests (currently closed- feel free to send whatever but it will be a while before I get to them!)

nav/masterlists

Drew is watching from behind the cameras as you film a scene he's not meant to be in just yet, sitting against a wall on the top deck of what will eventually be known to the audience as The Coastal Venture.

It's been a fun day as far as filming goes, but very long. He's tired, and he can see that you are tired too. He sips on his third cup of coffee, watching you film your scene. Right now, you're helping Cleo pull the cross which is hanging from the crane.

You're looking over your shoulder, camera's zoomed in close on you while you're supposed to be keeping an eye out for Rafe. Standing guard for who is meant to be your on-screen boyfriend, anxious about the act of betraying him. If Drew didn't know better, he'd believe your expressions. You're incredibly talented, and every chance he gets he'll watch you film your scenes. He can only do that so often, though, without it drawing any suspicion. After all, your relationship was kept only between the two of you for now.

Drew watches as you're given your queue that Rafe will enter, and you turn fully. He'll be filming that scene after his break, so he starts to pack up his snack and downs the rest of his coffee. He's distracted when he hears a loud crack, followed by gasps and a loud thump. His head quickly turns, and you're laying on the ground, the cross on its crane swinging above you as chaos breaks out on the ship.

The fake cross wasn't particularly heavy, but with the wind picking up and it's height dropping due to someone in the crane messing with the controls at just the wrong moment, it ended up swinging right into the back of your head.

"Y/N!" Drew can't hear a single other thing anyone is shouting as he's shoving past crew members to get to you laying on the deck. "Y/N? Hey! Talk to me!" He calls out, turning you onto your back and grabbing your face in his hands. You're out cold, that's clear.

"Shit... shit! Okay, uhm..." He's talking to himself now, leaning down to press his ear to your chest. Listening desperately through the commotion to try and hear a heartbeat but he can't make one out, and he has no hope of finding a pulse on your neck or wrist with such shaky hands.

"Okay, come on Baby, wake up." Drew mutters, consequences be damned as he's quickly rolling up his sleeves. He places his hands on your chest, taking a breath before pumping as much of his strength as he can into you, over and over again, hoping to bring you back to life.

He pauses, leaning down again to try and hear if you're breathing with his ear to your lips. Again, nothing. "Come on, Love, you've got to wake up." He mumbles, going back to compressing your chest. Just a few seconds at a time, before leaning over again and pressing his lips to yours, blocking your nose to try and breathe the life back into your lungs. Just a few times. Just four times and then back to your chest.

The cast is ushered away from reach of the swinging cross which is now being hoisted up and out of reach, leaving them all huddled together behind the commotion. "Is she okay?" Madelyn asks, hands clasped to her chest.

"She's gonna be fine." Chase replies, chewing the inside of his cheek. "She's fine."

"Did you guys hear it? I could hear it." Rudy whispers, voice shaking as he's wrapped in a towel from the plunge he just took into the ocean filming his own scene. "It was like... this awful crack. No way she hasn't broken something."

"Dude, shut up." JD says, shaking his head as they all try and see what's happening. More than a few tears have fallen between them, shock wearing off as they realize the gravity of the situation. You still haven't woken up.

People are yelling at Drew but it all sounds so different- his tunnel vision is on you, ignoring even the tears rolling down his own cheeks as he keeps repeating the cycle. Ten pushes on your chest, five breaths. Is he doing it right? He doesn't even know.

"Baby, come on, wake up... You have to wake up..." He says, hoping by some miracle that you'll hear him. Where the hell are the paramedics?

Just as the panic is fully starting to set in, exhaustion nowhere in sight, you gasp, lifting your arm slightly to try and grab your boyfriends attention. The stabbing pain coming from seemingly everywhere in your head was keeping you from speaking, just allowing you to squint your eyes shut as your hand hits his forearm.

"Y/N/N? Hey, you're okay... I'm right here." Drew says, finally being able to breathe as he gently pushes your hair out of your forehead.

Just then, since it didn't take them long enough, the on-site paramedics reach your side, joining Drew as he kneels next to you.

You can't even open your eyes as they're wrapping your head, putting something in your arm, and moving you over to what you assume is some kind of body board. Drew holds your hand the whole way, and by now, realization has dawned on not only the rest of the cast, but the crew as well.

"Are they together?" Carlacia asks, watching as Drew clings to your hand on the stretcher as you're moved. "Did I miss something?"

"No." Madison answers, shaking her head. "You didn't miss anything. I didn't think they were, I knew they hooked up once ages ago but that's not really how you treat a hookup, is it?"

"They hooked up?" Chase chimes in, tearing his gaze from you as this new information dawns on him.

"How is that relevant right now? She's dying!" Madelyn spits, eyes blotchy and red. "If you didn't know you weren't meant to know so don't talk."

"Good girl, you're doing so well..." Drew mutters to you, pressing a hand to your cheek as they move you. "You've gotta stay with me here. Can you open your eyes? Can you try?" You just groan, the light from the sun beating down on you too intense to open them more than a sliver before you black out again.

You wake up in the hospital, head pounding. Your whole body aches, you only know where you are because of the bright fluorescents and the sterile smell. Blinking your eyes open slowly, trying to adjust to your new environment.

"Y/N/N? Hey, are you waking up?" Drew is there. Of course he's there, and he's quickly standing up and once again pushing your hair away from your face. It really wasn't in your face anyways, he's spent the last six hours being so finicky with everything in your room that there was no chance of a limb remaining untucked or a hair being out of place. He had nothing better to do than distract himself, waiting for you to wake.

"Hi." You mumble, trying to sit up.

"Woah, wait, lay down. Just relax, okay Love? I'll get the doctor. I'll be back." He promises, dropping your hand to leave.

"Wait, wait..." You call out weakly. He's quick to stop and look at you again. "I'm okay. Just, can you stay for a minute?"

Drew nods, returning to your side. You just need a minute before you're bombarded with doctors, and possibly people with questions. You didn't want to face the world, for now, you just wanted to face him.

"What happened..?" You ask after a moment of him staring at you like you were about to evaporate into dust.

"Uh..." Drew clears his throat, giving a slight shake of his head as he rubs his chin. "There was an accident. You got hit in the head, it wasn't your fault."

"Where are we?"

"Duke."

"Am I... Am I okay?" Hesitation is dropping from your voice and he nods, squeezing your hand in between his before lifting it gently to kiss your knuckles.

"Just a concussion, bruised ribs. Luckily no breaks. The concussion is serious, though, from what they can tell. They're gonna keep you, I think. The doctor will have more answers than me." Drew explains. "Can I grab them for you?"

You shake your head slowly, weary of the pain already pulsing through your skull. "No. I just want another minute with you. Before everything is real again."

Drew nods again. "Of course. I just-" He sighs, dropping his head. "Thank god you're okay. You scared me so bad." He laughs slightly. "I just about passed out over you."

You smile, avoiding the urge to laugh. "Must've been a sight. Wish I could have seen it."

"I wish no one had to." Drew chuckles, rubbing his eyes. "By the way, bad time to tell you this, but I may have outed us; at least to the cast and crew. Legal will probably be calling."

"God, Drew. I'm so disappointed." You tease before quickly reassuring him. "It's fine, it doesn't matter."

"As long as you're alive," He agrees. "I couldn't care about anything else less."

taglist: @bookishbabyyy, @madelynie, @whore-4-drewstarkey, @slut4drudy, @winterrrnight, @totalswag, @sadfury, @fullfledgedemo, @rafemotherfuckingcameron, @urfaveluvr, @chenslucy, @hxnnah-397, @s-we-e-t-t-ea, @tahliac11, @saccharinesammie, @rafeoccasionally, @ietss, @maybankslover, @redhead1180, @suzyheartsrafe, @wpdailyminimeta, @rafegirly, @thelomlisrafecameron, @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles, @flonkertn, @whtvrrafe, @r1vrsefx, @frxcless, @ari-nicole, @@urmooniee,

#drew's birthday bash !#obx fanfic #outer banks #obx #rafe obx #drew starkey fanfic #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey

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mystar-girl57 · 2 years

Text

𝐌𝐲 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐦

𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Pairing: widowed!jake sully x female reader

Warnings: nothing just a bittersweet good bye

You took a deep breath in your shoulders rising, tensing as you held the breath then relaxed with the exhale. The water gently lapped at your ankles, your feet resting in the cool ocean water. The sun had woken up and slowly made its way into the sky, its beatiful rays reflecting against the water, dancing on your skin.

It was on calm mornings like this that you felt them the most.

The woven path creaked and dipped behind you making a soft smile form on your lips. You no longer frowned at those footsteps instead you waited in giddiness for them to get to you and it was not long before they were there. Jake sat down beside you with a groan and a deep yawn escaped his throat.

“Mornin’ babygirl,” he whispered, pulling you in and kissing your temple. You could tell he had just stumbled out of bed a few moments ago with how scratchy his voice was. “Did my snoring wake you up again?” You could not help but giggle a bit, shaking your head. “Surprisingly no,” you scooted closer to your husband so your bodies were wedged together, “it was Tuk’s tossing this time.” Jake let out a sigh, “She needs to start staying in her own bed, she’s nine now.”

You smirked looking up at him, “Yeah but something tells me you enjoy your little girl getting in bed with us still.” Jake rolled his eyes playfully before grabbing you sudddely making you squeal in surprise as he pulled you into his lap. Jake buried his face into the crook of his neck subtly connecting your queues together. You sighed softly feeling the love he was feeling wash over you through tsaheylu.

You both gently walked back and forth, watching the sun set and basking in each others presences. Neither of you needed to speak, the tsaheylu was saying enough.

“I saw them last night.” You whispered, playing with one of Jake’s dreads. “Both of them. They looked good. Neytiri was happy, she said hi and she was happy you were not being as much of a skxawng anymore.” Jake let out an amused ‘tch’, “What about you? You’re still a skxawng last I checked.” He teased. You let out a gasp of mock offense, “How dare you offend your wife.”

You went to playfully hit him but Jake caught you by the wrist and pulled you in for a tender kiss instead.

It may have taken a lifetime and several near death experiences for you to get here but you had made it. You learned what happiness was and you were not letting go of it soon.

You felt two presences on either side of you and you looked up at Jake, he felt them too. “Happy 16th birthday son.” Jake whispered and you hummed in agreement. Though neither of you could see Neteyam or Neytiri you both knew that they were there smiling right back at you.

𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐬:

Well everyone we have made it to the end of My Chrysanthemum so I suppose this is where we part.

This has been the first story for me to successfully finish and it has a very special place in my heart.

Before we go I just wanted to say a special thank you to @/theseuscmander and @/neteyamsilly (I'm not going to tag them because I don't want to bother them) but these two wonderful writers really inspired me and gave me the confidence to write this fic and their works are so wonderful.

Also thank you to all of you the readers, thank you so much for the comments the hearts just everything, it really gave me the motivation to write this story and I'm so glad to see you all love it as me.

Drabbles for this are open so please send,

So with that it has been wonderful and stay tuned for a The Last of Us fic coming out here in a few weeks,

Until then, love ya babes 💕

🏷: @fanboyluvr @mashiromochi @newjeansbonnie @cleverzonkwombatsludge @atxara @jakesully-sbabygirl @ducks118 @ssc7514 @squidalapobre @anxietydrogz @myheartfollower @misscaller06 @itzyahgirllkita1 @saltedcoffeescotch @eskamybeloved @agustdeeyaa @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @julijal @supercoolusernamesblog @iamparou @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @idcalol @eternallyvenus @zoetrope1997 @itssomeonereading @farleyis @k0la22 @bigdikzaddy

#jake sully #neteyam #neteyam sully #jake sully fic #jake sully x reader #jake sully imagine #kiri sully #lo’ak #tuk sully #jake sully x #jake sully avatar #avatar jake sully #jake sully angst #avatar #avatar 2009 #avatar the way of the water #avatar 2

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lemmetreatya · 1 year

Text

👔 We Really Shouldn’t…But 👔

once again, THANK YOU @indigoballad for the suggestion 😩😩 and @offthalot heres the food i promised bae 🫶🏾💖

content: afab reader, blowjob, public oral sex, exhibitionism, swallowing, fingering, squirting

“we-we’re gonna get in trouble for this, you know that?”

onyankopon’s words are huffed, low and cautious. not cautious enough for someone who was currently getting their dick sucked at the back of a lecture hall, but he had his wits about him.

with a pop, you briefly take onyankopon’s length out of your mouth to give him an upwards glance from between his legs.

“why does it matter? it was your idea.” you muse, your tongue swiping over your lips before you lower your mouth onto him again, keeping the eye contact.

onyankopon closes his eyes with a slight groan because he can feel himself getting close and your bewitching stare wasn’t helping. it was his idea in the first place, but he didn’t realise how full the class was going to be and how loud you’d sound. god, and with the way you were practically sucking the soul out of him, draining him? onyankopon knew he was in trouble already

“g-g-geh…get off.”

he mumbles, because he can’t keep this up any longer. he’s pretty sure he’s getting suspicious glances from the other students, and suddenly the thought of exploding himself at the back of class wasn’t as appealing as it originally was and he’s the head of the student union for fucks sake! how could he fight for the rights of students whilst being a bad example of one?!

but you’re still sucking, determined in fact, and onyankopon doesn’t know how else to tell you that he’s about to cum.

“babe…” he whisper-tries.

you ignore him for the most part, moan onto his dick to send even more stimulation his way, and onyankopon can only whine at you, his hands grappling at your cheeks.

“bubba, im gonna…”

you knew what he was trying to indicate but you were more determined to finish your job. you instead take his words as a disobedient queue to fondle his balls, and suddenly, onyankopon is letting out the most guttural orgasm that he’s ever had. he groans so loud that most of the class turn round to look. onyankopon tries to mask it by quickly flopping face down onto his mac book.

even the lecturer pauses, and looks over in his direction to intervene.

“mr. mensah.” he droned. “everything okay?”

with his forehead still resting ontop of his laptop, onyankopon raises his thumb to signify his supposed undetrimental state.

“yeeeep.”

but it looks like its not enough and onyankopon can feel that eyes are still on him and so he tries clearing it up with: “justa cramp.”

once people seem to no longer be interested and the class is resumed, you clamber your way out from underneath the table, fingers prettily dabbing at the corners of your lips for any spillages.

“stop being dramatic.” you coo, seeing as onyankopon’s head was still down on the table. the man scoffs as he moves slightly away from you.

“it’s not dramatic if its real.” he mumbles as he finally sits up to tug himself back into his trousers.

you only roll your eyes, not considering to pay him much attention for the rest of the class, but there was definitely something telling you that you should have taken him more seriously.

by the time there’s only ten minutes to the class left, onyankopon’s hands start to fiddle their way over your thighs.

at first, you don’t see it as a big deal because he usually got handsy when he was anticipating to do something. you assumed this with him anticipating to get packed up for the end of the lecture, but it’s when his fingers started to dance dangerously close to the seam of your panties, that you had to sideeye him.

“hey…” you sharply breathe at him.

onyankopon pretends not to hear you, continues to act as if hes listening to the lecturer. his other arm nonchalantly leans on the rest of his chair as he covers his mouth with his hand. anyone else would have thought he was being studious but with how his daring hand was pushing the material of your underwear to the side, you knew elsewise.

you attempt to squeeze your legs together, get him to rethink his actions, but even with one hand alone, the strength he ensues to part your legs is unmatched — even for your thighs.

“ony, don’t. the class is almost over. wait till we get back to yours.” you try, but he’s not listening.

swatting him away, you grit your words over at him but its soon replaced by a soft hiss that leaves your mouth as onyankopon decides to relish two fingers over the opening of your cunt.

its subtle, but it’s impactful, because your concentration is now utterly divided.

“ony, you-“

“i’m getting my lick back.” he plainly states, and from that alone you know theres nothing else you can do about it.

oh, how the tables have turned.

now you’re left huffing and squirming in your seat because onyankopon decides that its here and now he wants to pay you back for something he initially wanted.

once he actually delves two fingers in, you fling your head backwards in a groan. onyankopon shushes you for good measure but the smile on his lips is devious; he’s getting what he wants. a few people look over and you try your best to cover onyankopon’s hand with your skirt but everytime, he flicks it back up — flashing everything on display.

suddenly he’s so determined for everyone to know. no longer cautious that he, the head of the student union, was committing indecent acts with his girlfriend towards the back of the lecture hall.

every time the lecturer’s drowsy eyes wash over your side of the room, you try to seem unaffected and unmoved, but it’s hard when onyankopon insists on making a mess out of you.

“come on. where’s those pretty moans i like?” he teases and you almost feel like crying.

“ony, not nowww.”

you whine in conjuncture, but it’s absolutely no use as onyankopon keeps his fingers pulsing and his thumb now swiping at the helm of your clit.

a squeak is the only thing that leaves your throat next as you proceed to slouch in your chair.

bringing your hand up to your mouth, you bite down on your fist to quieten yourself but it’s not use! your body just couldn’t disobey the man as it couldn’t help but to make the soft sounds of pleasure.

you can feel the usual bubbling of your stomach tickle the inner end of your womb. you knew what that meant and usually you’d welcome the feeling, but now, with other people present and being outside the comfort of either one of your rooms, you dreaded the coming flood.

“im gonn cum, ony.” you fitfully press out.

onyankopon acknowledges your statement but only with a nod and lick of his bottom lip. you know this was fun for him but you doubt he understood the true extent of your impending orgasm.

“onyyy…” you moan again.

you accidentally catch the attention of someone a few seats ahead and you can easily tell the moment they realise whats going on. with the way they gasp and turn their head back round, you know that you were no longer being discreet enough to go unnoticed by others.

however, there was something thrilling about having been caught but not shying away from the response.

“im gonna cum.” you try again, but onyankopon continues the same motions.

“i know.” he lowly hums.

at this point you feel like your breath is going to wind out of your chest and your orgasm is getting too close but onyankopon just doesn’t let up.

another moan leaves your mouth but this one is so final.

“li-like…a lot.” you mewl.

“i know.” he growls and its that which sets you over the edge.

inexplicably your thighs clamp together as you lurch forwards in climax, a lewd groan leaving your mouth as your cunt cooly wets onyankopon’s fingers. you hear the man lowly cuss beneath his breath at the audacity of the situation but you know more than anyone that that is a sound of onyankopon being turned on.

your orgasm hits you so heavily that even after the embarrassment of more people looking back in inquisition, you still can’t help the shudders that wash over you and pull hapless whimpers out of you.

it’s exposing but so thrilling at the same time. in a sense you’re pleased he put you through the experience.

“well, shit…” you mumble at your slightly damp skirt and chair. your chest is still heaving up and down as you slouch in your seat.

on the other hand, onyankopon doesn’t find it a problem as he’s sucking the rest of you off his fingers. he does however glance over to you with a new fire in his eyes.

you already know you’re in trouble once this class finishes — and that’s not by any lecturer’s means.

#onyankopon smut #onyankopon aot #onyankopon x reader #onyankopon #onyankopon x black reader #aot x reader smut #aot x black reader smut #aot x black reader #aot x reader #attack on titan

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froggibus · 2 years

Text

I Got You - Jujutsu Kaisen

Includes: Megumi Fushiguro, Satoru Gojo, Yuji Itadori, Toge Inumaki, Toji Fushiguro, Ryomen Sukuna

Genre: angst? fluff

Summary: a scenario in which your fave boy saves you + the aftermath

CW: VIOLENCE, blood, falling, bullying, harassment, hurt/comfort, more stupid jokes?

i am so down bad for xiao from Genshin rn so if anyone has any good xiao fics pls send them my way! fanart too! anyway this has been in my drafts for a while but just finished it tonight cause why not

also I guarantee no one can guess my favorite JJK character

————

Megumi Fushiguro:

yuji, fushiguro and you were sent to exorcise a grade 1

nobara was sick with the flu but she was supposed to be there too

it was supposed to be an easy fight

when you got there, it turned out to be a special grade that took hostages

you focused on trying to get the hostages out while fushiguro and Itadori distracted it

it catches on to the plan and knocks yuji away when he goes to hit it

then it goes after you

yuji gets up but not in time

fushiguro tries to divert it with his shikigami but it doesn’t work

it hits you out the window

you start falling and have no time to brace yourself before hitting the ground

you’re going to hit the pavement and become a y/n pancake

fushiguro watches the whole thing in horror

he’s NOT going to lose you like this

he tries to think of what he can do to save you and it hits him like a pile of bricks

a giant bird catches you

it takes you a minute to realize that it’s Nue but when you do, you almost cry from relief

yuji and fushiguro finished exorcising the curse when you got back

you literally run to fushiguro and kiss him

he’s surprised but he holds you and makes sure you’re okay

is SO relieved when you only have a few minor scrapes and bruises and no big injuries

expect him to be GLUED to your side after too

he’s not one for PDA but he’s holding your hand, hand on your waist etc.

let’s you rest on him during the ride back to jujutsu tech

probably plays with your hair/hands the whole drive too

Satoru Gojo

saves you on a mission when your Grade 1 turned out to be 2 special grades

as a semi Grade 1 sorcerer you’re used to taking out Grade 1s and even some special grades on your own

so when you got an assignment to take out a Grade 1 you really weren’t worried about it

Gojo was though

he kept saying something feels off and not elaborating

You shake him off cause let’s be real, it’s Gojo, and you go anyway

of course when you get there and take out the Grade 1 almost instantly just to realize you still feel a strong presence of cursed energy, you realize he was right

queue 2 special grades coming out of nowhere and attacking you

it’s all you can do to defend yourself and try to run away but they’re working together and keep blocking your path

you’re thoroughly unsurprised when Gojo drops from the fucking sky

“what do we have here?”

he has his blindfold off and his eyes are glowing

you laugh somewhat cause you know they are FUCKED

he takes his time with them too

when it’s done and over with he’s trying to act all nonchalant and “I told you so” about it but you can tell he was worried

“see? you should’ve just listened to me”

“really? you’re choosing now to be cocky?”

definitely makes you ‘repay’ him somehow (read: he is just EXTRA clingy and uses it as a reason to kiss you tons)

Yuji Itadori

you’re heading to a cafe one morning to get drinks and snacks for the first years

it’s a nice day so you just end up walking there

you didn’t think about the fact that regular school was about to start either tho

and as you’re walking to the cafe you see some familiar people up ahead

people you knew before Jujutsu Tech

you decide to just ignore them cause you don’t think they’ll remember or recognize you after all this time

unfortunately they do

one of them sticks out their leg to trip you and when you fall they all laugh

you scramble backwards and try to get up but realize you dropped your wallet

“w-what do you even want from me”

“c’mon y/n, is that any way to greet an old friend?”

you get a weird feeling in the pit of your stomach

“it doesn’t really seem like you guys are friends.”

your heart FLUTTERS

yuji is standing behind the group of assholes and he looks ANGRY

so angry you almost thought it was Sukuna for a second

“who are you—“

“don’t you know? that’s the tiger of west junior high!!”

the fear on their faces alone is enough to make you feel better

they literally RUN away

Yuji helps you off of the ground and gathers your stuff

“y/n are you okay?”

you nod and swallow hard

he checks you head to toe for injuries and when he’s certain you’re fine pulls you in for a big hug

like mans is CRUSHING your ribs

he’s back to his sunshiney self tho

“thank you for protecting me, yuji.”

he kisses your forehead and he’s BLUSHING like crazy

Toge Inumaki

there’s a big meeting for sorcerers at the Tokyo school

like pretty much everyone is there

so class is cancelled for the day

you and the other second years are just sitting on the bleachers making fun of some of the weirder looking sorcerers

you’re sitting with inumaki who chimes in with the occasionally “tuna” or “salmon roe”

until you hear someone causing a scene over Yuji

yelling about the vessel and a bunch of other weird shit

you’re on your feet in no time ready to go defend the poor first year

you don’t even think about any danger until you’re getting up in the man’s face and telling him to backup

the man is getting aggressive though and Yuji starts telling you to back off

but the man tells Yuji he’s better off dead and you SNAP

you start yelling at him

until he starts to use his cursed technique on you

you realize too late what’s happening and have no time to get out of the way

“don’t move!”

it’s been so long since you’ve heard Inumaki say anything other than fish ball ingredients that you’re stunned

the man freezes in place, trying to move but to no avail

Inumaki steps in front of you protectively and narrows his eyes at the man who tried to attack you

“leave. don’t come near them again.”

the man obeys (like he had any choice)

Inumaki looks at you seriously and grabs your hands

“tuna tuna”

“i know i know…i didn’t think I just ran in”

“bonito flakes”

you kiss his nose and thank him for saving you

Toji Fushiguro

being real he would probably not let ANYONE lay their hands on you

at least not anyone with ill intentions

but let’s be real toji is possessive as fuck

anyway you’re on a walk one morning when a curse ambushes you

you don’t practice Jujutsu but you have cursed energy and know what they are from Toji

you try to evaluate what’s going on and wonder if you can fight it

but you shake the thought away and settle on running

which is fine until the curse RIPS the ground from under you and sends you flying

you land on a wall and decide to just not get up again

you’re ready to accept death when your giant boyfriend is suddenly there

he has a sword and makes quick work of the curse before coming to your aid

“fuck doll, it really did a number on you, huh?”

you just nod weakly and let him pick you up

he carried you home and takes care of your injuries and you can tell by the shaking of his hands that he’s mad

not at you duh

but at the thought that a curse HURT you

that it even THOUGHT it could touch HIS y/n

expect a lot of affection from him

and probably some rough but sweet ‘you’re mine ill never let anything hurt you’ sex

Ryomen Sukuna

you and Yuji somehow get stuck fighting a special grade alone

and neither of you are doing so hot

at least Yuji is somewhat OP

you’re just y/n and you’re STRUGGLING

which only gets worse when the special grade pierces straight through your stomach

there’s a hole at least three inches wide

Yuji just watches in horror

Sukuna doesn’t freeze, though

he knows humans are fragile and you can’t stand too much blood loss

“enchain”

him and Yuji switch before anyone could process what was going on

instantly vaporizes the special grade and runs to your side

using reversed cursed energy really isn’t that big of a deal to him though

heals you like it’s nothing

“you’re fine, brat.”

you pass out

but when you wake up you’re back in your dorm, Yuji sitting on the end of your bed

no, not Yuji

Sukuna is sitting on the end of your bed, staring straight at you

“i-i’m alive?”

“yes, and i still haven’t heard a thank you.”

“thank you for saving me.”

acts all humble and nonchalant about it but you notice he’s a little more clingy

and WAY more protective of you

746 notes · View notes

rojacatmisa · 6 days

Text

Novias de vacaciones

Misa Rodriguez x Marta Cardona

ONE SHOT 7K words

Summary : Misa and Marta spend their vacation in the beautiful town of Donostia, enjoying local specialities and attractions together. Maybe they will leave with bigger souvenirs than they expected.

Fluff, fluff, fluff and a bit of smut +18

English, nor Spanish is my first language, feedback or advices are always welcomed ! Hope you like it !

☀☀☀☀☀☀☀☀☀☀

“Why did you want to come here, it’s so crowded you can’t drive!” Misa exclaims, braking at once as a group of pedestrians crossed the street recklessly.

The soft laugh of Marta fills the car and she looks fondly at her girlfriend. “It’s Donostia, middle of July, Misa. Wasn’t it you who insisted visiting the city where I played for two years?”

The goalkeeper snorts, presses the accelerator again, turns right to the docks to queue behind a long row of cars and releases a long sigh.

Marta side eyes the moody girl again “Misa! Don’t you lose your temper yet, Holidays hasn’t even started Dios mio!”

“We’ve already been stuck in traffic for hours! I remind you we were supposed to arrive before lunch! It pisses me off we spend another half hour dragging because of dumb guiris!” Misa moans.

“Maria Isabel!”

“What?!” Misa turns her head to her girlfriend, she knows she’s pissing Marta off too but she’s hungry and has an urgent needs to pee that doesn’t improve her mood.

“I will not endure the grumpy Misa during the only off week we have in common this summer!” The winger calls out with a hard stare.

It sends the taller women quiet for the rest of their incredibly slow drive to the hotel.

After what seemed like a while, they do arrive to a tall fancy building facing the bay. Marta gets out of the car to pick their luggages while Misa goes to park. They meet up at the reception shorty, Marta announcing their arrival at the welcoming desk.

“Hola, I’ve a reservation for four nights at Marta Cardona de Miguel, por favor.”

The receptionist replied with a large smile. “Hola, yes indeed, room number 224, king sized bed with a view on the bay, no breakfast though, is that correct ?”

“Sí, that’s it, gracias.”

“Vale, here’s your room card. Have a great stay and don’t hesitated if you need anything”.

The two women thank the receptionist and find their way to the elevator, opened the door number 224 and drops off their stuff in the room, Misa rushing to the WC at once.

“Lo siento Pollito, I’ve calmed down.” Misa says when she exists the bathroom with a bashful look before she takes her girlfriend hand.

The shorter women stands on her tiptoes to put a swift kiss on the goalkeeper lips “I’m glad you are… until your next tantrum!” This time Marta is satisfied to see the pout on Misa’s face reappear.

The couple takes a moment to freshen up and goes out in the city to eat something.

☀

Misa and Marta eat all they could at a cute Pintxos near the market. They devour toasts of foie gras, shrimp and fish skewers, various croquetas accompanied by two large glasses of sangria. It feels so good to let go of their strict diet and enjoy their no calories counting meal together.

After lunch, the couple set off to the docks surrounding the bay. On the way, they wandered through the narrow streets of the old city.

“Oh Pollito! This T shirt’s looking good! I want to go inside the shop.” Misa tells Marta as they pass in front of a showcase with colorful items.

“Vale, I think I saw a nice ensemble I’d like as well.”

Inside the shop, there are many people and the two girls manage to walk around the shelves to look at the displayed clothes. They shortly select a few items and go to the small fitting room together.

Marta is the first to took off her clothes to try on the ensemble she spotted earlier and even if she has seen her girlfriend in sexy underwear countless times before, Misa can’t help but feel slightly aroused of the toned curves of the winger reflecting in the mirror, squeezed in the cramped room.

The goalkeeper pulls off her T shirt to hide the burning blushing she’s feeling on her cheeks as Marta bent over to pick up a flowing dark gray pants. Between quick glances, the taller girl grasps a white T shirt with hand-script letters and pulls it over her head. When her eyes emerged from the collar, Misa can only stare at her girlfriend who’s now fully dressed up.

Marta is looking at herself in the mirror, her short silhouette nicely branded out by the pants and sleeveless top silky anthracite fabric. She sees the reflection of Misa’s dropping jaw behind her shoulder and breaks a large smile before turning over to the goalkeeper.

Like a teenager, Misa feels herself smiling stupidly as she takes in Marta from head to toes, accentuating the throbbing she’s feeling down.

The winger leans toward her, her smile has changed to something mischievous. “I guess you like it too, Bebé.” she says and planted a kiss on her lips. It takes everything in Misa not to enfold Marta in her arms to make the kiss last longer when she pulled off to stare at Misa’s own fitting. “I don’t think your T shirt’s worthing the price though. Try this one instead.” The winger says.

Misa scowls and takes a look at the mirror. The T shirt does seem a bit too adjusted and the letters “Sun hills and bay” too big on the front but she’s not ready to let go. “But the design is brutal! Maybe it’s just too small?”

Marta continue to wag a piece of dark red fabric under her nose “It’s not giving Misa, I’m sure this will fit you better!”

Reluctantly, Misa take off her T-shirt to try on Marta’s suggested cloth. She’s irritated to find it’s fitting her very well, the dark wine red color really matching her complexion and the sleeveless and V-neck shape enhancing her muscular shoulders. She fakes a snort, unwilling to admit the better find of Marta before adding “Yeah, I guess it’s alright”.

“You’re kidding me, we both know you’re looking sexy as hell in that.” The winger strikes back, pulling a smile from the goalkeeper. “Let’s take those to the cash desk and go the docks at last!” The winger concludes and Misa obediently follows her back in the shop, somehow wishing they’ll be heading back to hotel instead.

☀

When they arrive in front of the shore, the sun is lower and stretches the hundred of tiny shadows of people playing and sunbathing on the beach below. They lean on the guardrail for a few minutes, enjoying the view before they walked all the way to the ocean where they fall at the entrance of the aquarium of Donostia.

The two women exchange a glance and go in at once. The tickets bought, Misa and Marta enter the dark place. The dim blue light of the tanks barely lightening their faces, they peer at the colorful marine species.

After a moment, the goalkeeper pulls out of phone to take a picture of a particularly tiny fish with a prominent mouth and big eyes topped by a black stroke. “It’s you Bebé, it has your eyelashes!” Misa teases the shorter girl who just roll her eyes at her and goes over a huge tank filled with hundred of exotic fishes.

Misa’s joins her girlfriend in front of the glass wall and the two girls loose themselves in the depth of blue water swirling with colorful shapes. Her hand creeps along her girlfriend’s back who quickly respond by resting her head on the taller women’s shoulder. “Es muy bonito…” Marta smiles as she finds Misa’s hand. “I’m glad to be here with you, Bebé.”

Misa kisses her girlfriend’s temple and squeeze her hand tighter. “Mi tambien mi Pollito. Do you think we could go take ice cream after?” she asks innocently.

☀

The end of the day goes quickly. They skipped the ice cream (to Marta’s delight, Misa pouted again) to have diner in an intriguing bask mixed asian restaurant-brewery in Gros neighborhood. They order dumplings, fried chicken wings and noodles. Marta convinces Misa who isn’t found of beer to try a sour and fruity one when she was having a classic one. They chat lightly, enjoying every minute of the buzzy and warm atmosphere of the bask city while they eat the delicious food.

It’s passed eleven when the couple is back to the hotel and Marta has a precise idea of how she wants them to spend to rest of evening. She has put that sexy underwear on purpose, which has already proved been efficient on her goalkeeper earlier.

Once in their room, Marta goes in the bathroom a moment to check her make up and hair. She has an intense need to drive her goalie crazy tonight, so she goes out the room in underwear ready to jump on her girlfriend without waiting another second.

Marta’s eyes fall on the silhouette of the brunette lying on her side, still half dressed up, in bed. She sighted and watches her fondly. Misa’s eyes are shut tight and her lips parted, the sound of the deep breathing of sleep is filling the room with her chest’s rising up and down.

☀☀☀

Next morning, Misa and Marta wake up early, not on purpose but rather by habitude, and decide to do a quick work out session at the hotel before going to the beach. The two girl are passionate and rarely miss their sport routine, even during holidays. They like to share it when they can, their combined energy driving each other and their equal dedication pushing the other’s limits.

Then the couple leaves the hotel, grabs a large cafe con leche and set off to the bay. They lay their towel neatly on the sand and change quickly.

Misa is the first to ran in the waves, the fresh water is barely stopping her to directly plunge into the water as she gets away from the shore. Marta is following her at her pace, a less rushed one, enjoying a moment the contrast between the foam licking at her knees and the sun kissing her shoulders.

Her girlfriend is already far away, crawling in the bay at full speed. Marta looks around her, sighs of ease, and dips in the water entierly. Marta swims fast too, she reaches the goalkeeper in no time and stops a little ahead of her. Misa’s still swimming rapidly toward her and doesn’t slow as she gets closer.

She dives underwater at the last moment, the goalie’s arms wrapped themselves around Marta’s waist as her head resurface. She wipes the water from her eyes and pulls the winger to her. The ocean is swaying them gently as they exchange a long and salty kiss.

"You taste better without sea water! We race to the buoy ?", Marta suggests, smiling wide at her girlfriend.

Misa doesn’t waste a second and propels herself toward the to red floating ball in the distance.

"Cheater !", Marta snorts under her breath and flings herself in the goalkeeper’s foaming trail. The winger’s powerful arms breaks the water easily, she’s feeling in her element, her moves almost as precise as she is with a ball. It’s not long before she overtakes Misa, the goalie taking a glimpse through the drops in her eyes doubles her effort not to get left behind. She knows Marta’s faster that her but she’s determined to pull up a fight.

The floater is getting near and the two athletes are elbow to elbow as they put all their strength in the last meters. A hand fall on the buoy and it’s Marta’s. Being out of breath doesn’t keep her from pulling a smug smile at Misa.

"You win, Flash Cardona !" the goalkeeper acknowledges. Misa’s never mad about Marta being ahead of her and a sparkle of admiration shines in her eyes, pricking with salt, as she remembers how she fell for the winger when they where both at Real Madrid.

Marta let out a soft chuckle at the mention of the nickname fans gave her years ago, from being really fast on the pitch. "That feels so good !", she says. "Now, let’s tan on the beach for hours !"

☀

After an hour of sun tanning, the couple decides to return in the hotel room shortly to get a shower before lunch. Alone in the cabin, Misa’s mind is running wild. She wants to buy her girlfriend a gift and rakes her brain to find the proper present. Clothes or jewels ? Marta has plenty already. Flowers ? Not as long as they’re staying at the hotel. Books ? Marta likes them but the goalkeeper’s not sure she’ll find something accurate. Food ? It’s too complicated with their diets. Misa wants something special and right on spot, and she continues to search her mind as she shampoos her hair.

“Misa qué haces ? I’m starving !” she hears from behind the door. She has stayed a while under the shower, somehow wishing the water would pour ideas in her blank brain. She finally drops it at the sound of Marta’s impatient voice.

Wrapped up in a towel, Misa exits the bathroom and her eyes fall on her girlfriend sat at the edge of the bed, wearing the gray ensemble they bought yesterday. A shy smile stretches her mouth and she comes right in front of Marta to look down naughtily at her. “Why did you put that on ? Weren’t you starving ?”

Marta blinks her heavy lashed eyes several times. She pulls out an innocent grin “Yes, I’m starving Bebé, I just got dressed for the rest of the day”. However, the brunette’s hands are already grasping Misa’s towel, the taller women’s just holding her breath when she’s been pulled between Marta’s legs. “Let’s go eat something, shall we ?” the winger asks, her fingers unknotting to towel, which fell on the floor, leaving Misa’s bare stomach centimeters away from Marta’s face.

The goalie shy smile has changed into pinched lips, her desire growing at an incredible speed as Marta’s lips kiss her abs softly before going up to her breast. When Marta presses her face against the soft flesh, Misa can no longer contains herself. She straddles the shorter woman, cup her face in her large hands and crashes her lips on her mouth. The force and weight of the goalie almost unbalances her completely and she falls back onto her forearms as Misa’s literally eating her mouth.

Breathy whimpers escapes her lips, the two women drags themselves onto the middle of the bed, becoming a mess of brushing hands and moans, Misa’s ones working to take Marta’s fancy cloth off and throwing them in the room with little care now they’re not on her hot girlfriend anymore. Her hands fall onto her girlfriend’s chest to caress it a moment.

Lost in a kiss, Marta realizes Misa’s hand has leaved her breast when she feels her palm brushing the inside of her thighs. Her own fingers dip into the goalie still wet hair and Misa’s fingertips are already on her core, making her quiver at the sudden contact. Misa’s rushing and Marta’s not really wet yet but her girlfriend’s eagerness in working her out like crazy. She sighs, and the goalie moans again, wanting nothing more than to please Marta beyond reason, as her hips wriggle under her touch.

Misa’s caresses are doing their work, her wetness’s coming out abundantly now, and Marta hand’s press the nap of her head to deepen their kiss. The goalie’s fingers slip inside, snatching an obscene cry from the winger. Marta’s body’s arching as waves of pleasure wash over her every time her girlfriend’s going in and out. She’s whining louder and louder, driven by Misa’s own aroused moans and comforted by her warm body moving above her.

Feeling her orgasm building as her body’s being rocked rhythmically on the bed, Marta enclosed Misa’s board shoulders in her arms. Her cries of pleasure fall directly into Misa’s ear who intensifies her trusts inside and out, feeling herself not only getting drenched but drowning in her love and desire for Marta.

It only takes a couple of minutes before the winger releases a deep whine, breathing out her liberation and melting in the pleasure swallowing her. Her orgasm is still lingering when she feels the goalie lips on hers, soft and demanding.

Misa’s always tender and caring after love and Marta is too content to be simply cuddled as she relishes on the last notes of her enjoyment. However, Marta has now a precise idea of where she wants to be.

She grabs Misa’s thighs and pushes her upward, sliding down between the women’s legs in the same time. The goalie throaty gasps tell Marta that her girlfriend has guessed her intentions and seems rather appealed by the prospect. Therefore, the brunette doesn’t do any detour and she grasps Misa’s ass, pressing the women intimacy directly onto her awaiting mouth.

The goalie’s loosing her head already, not only because of her girlfriend’s tongue doing wonders but also because she’s feeling Marta’s smile spreading and her muffled laugh vibrating softy on her pussy. On her side Marta’s enjoying the ego boost Misa’s giving her by dripping all over her face and making her barely able to breathe. Nevertheless, she continues to kiss Misa’s core in all the way she knows she likes and Misa rises to hold herself onto the head board of the bed as she arches to squeeze herself on Marta’s mouth even more.

Suddenly, the winger slides down to free herself and Misa dare to glance timidly behind her shoulder at her girlfriend regaining her breath. But the tall brunette is not waiting much. Marta comes over the goalkeeper from behind, one of her hands caresses her back as the other slide down between her legs.

Her fingers dip inside of her easily, her muscled arms find the right pace in no time. Misa’s letting out strangled sounds as she feels Marta hips and thighs pushing against her butt. The winger’s sensing her own pussy throbbing, taking in the gorgeous body of the girlfriend, from her swaying hair to the small of the back, bucking madly in front of her.

“No te detengas !” The goalie cries, chasing her orgasm, and Marta other hand brushes along her flank, passing on her stomach to her pelvis as she keeps filling her from behind. Misa’s pushed over the edge at once as she feels so many fingers working simultaneously on her core. Her sighs fill the room, loud enough to be heard from the adjoining floors but she doesn’t give a fuck, feeling so fucking good from cuming and as soft and loving hands strokes her relaxing back.

A few seconds later, Misa collapses onto the bed and pulls the winger close to her. Both women smiles mildly, happy and weaken by their work out, swim and now by cuming pretty strongly, moreover when they have barely ate anything since diner. Misa’s belly rumbles and Marta acknowledges in a sleepy voice « Me too, bebé ».

She shakes herself, Misa grunts as she leaves her arms and gets out of bed. “Let’s go devour another meal full of fat, salt and sugar !” Marta announces happily and the goalkeeper mouth waters in anticipation.

☀

The couple achieve their ambition by finding a trendy burger restaurant near their hotel. They savor every bits of it, the steak and bacon loaded with sauce, the French fries cooked in duck fat, and even the small portion of sweet and sour coleslaw on the side.

Digesting their consistent meal, Misa and Marta are so tired the tree coffees they get after can’t prevent a come back in the hotel room for a well deserved nap. They sleep all afternoon, waking up jet lagged and disoriented, only when night is falling.

“Madre Mia, the firework !” Misa exclaims in a pasty voice. “It’s in ten minutes! We’re going to miss it!”

“We can still be on time, let’s run on the way!” The winger replies as she pulls Misa out of bed after her.

Marta is right. The couple joggs to the docks effortlessly, trained and rested just fine for that kind of performance, and arrives in the compact mass of people already waiting for the spectacle. Misa grabs Marta’s hand and pushes her way through the dense crowd along the shore. After a few meters, she finds a space in the front just behind the guardrail but only big enough for one person. She pushes Marta in front and settles herself just behind, the winger being that short compared to her she doesn’t block her view at all.

Marta’s feeling on a cloud wrapped up in the goalies’s strong arms, in the front raw to see the show. Warmth fills her when her girlfriend puts a cute kiss on her cheek.

“It’s starting bébé!” She says grasping Misa’s hands in hers. “Te quiero…”

“Te quiero bebé” Misa purrs and the first lights of the firework light the sky.

☀

“Vale, that was dope ! Did you see the ones that were drawing smiley faces ?” Misa’s saying happily as the couple headed back to the hotel.

“Sì ! So pretty and fun ! Though I’m always bothered by the noise, explosions are so loud. It’s kind of freaking me out every time.” Marta tells her, putting a hand on her forehead. They’re doing a detour the avoid most of the crowd scattering in the streets after the fireworks has ended.

"We should have taken earplugs for you", the goalie says with a hint of worry in her voice.

Marta shakes her head, "Don’t worry, I’m not deaf yet… I can even hear that bird or whatever’s doing that mess…"

"Qué ?" Misa’s looking perplexed at her girlfriend. What is she talking about ? But then she hears it too, high pitched and piercing screeches coming from nearby. “What is it ? It’s close !”

Marta is listening attentively "It’s seems like a mouse or… a kitten !"

"It does sounds like a kitten", Misa approves, heading toward the source of the noise. The winger’s following her closely and they circle a blue car parked along the sidewalk. The meowing intensify as they get nearer. "It must be under the car", the goalie concludes.

She crouches and peers at the space between the pavements and the vehicle. Everything’s dark and Misa only sees a small round black shape detaching against the light flittering feebly under the car. The goalie pulls out her phone and turns on the light, she angles it slowly but not directly toward the little bundle, in fear of scaring it away.

"Pollito ! It’s a kitten indeed ! Come !" Misa tells Marta when the light reveals a really tiny cat meowing restlessly and looking completely panicked.

"Oh ! Poor thing !" the winger says, almost laying on the road to take a glimpse of the miserable creature looking at them. Misa makes an attempt to calm it and does kissing sounds, speaking softy. "Gatito ! Come over, Gatito ! We won’t hurt you."

"It won’t work Misa, he’s too scared..." But to Marta’s surprise, the kit starts to walk toward them, still letting out terrified squeaks.

Misa extends her hand to make contact. The kit stops meowing at last and leads its small truffle to sniff the goalie’s hand, almost as big as itself. The two brunettes aren’t daring to speak as the smelling lasts, the kitten deciding if it should trust that large hand coming to it. Without transition, it ends up rubbing its tiny head against Misa’s fingertips.

"Oh ! That’s it Gatito, come over here !" Misa withdrew her hand while moving her fingers playfully to keep the kitten’s attention. The kit is bitting at the bait and follows her hand until it exists the under of the vehicle, the goalkeeper taking it carefully in her hands before it gets the chance to run away.

Under the streetlights, the couple can properly look at the poor animal. The kitten is really small, fluffy, brown with black stripes and round filled with fear eyes, its frail body shaking uncontrollably against the goalkeeper torso.

Misa frowns "He’s freaking out. I bet he was terrified by the fireworks and got lost in the streets !"

Marta’s bitting her lips, approaches her hand with much care and tries a light stroke on the kit’s head who closes its eyes at the touch. "He doesn’t seem to fear humans at least. What are we going to do ? We can’t let him in the street and it’s far too late to call any pet rescue association…"

"We’re taking him to the hotel and figure it out tomorrow", the goalie decides, holding the kitten a little tighter against her. "Let’s go in a shop to buy at least a can of cat food and something to make a litter for the night."

"But I don’t think the hotel’s accepting animals, Misa", the winger worries.

However, the goalkeeper puts a final word to the discussion. "I won’t let a lost baby all by itself in the streets !"

☀

Misa lays a bowl in the bathroom, one of cat food and one of water. She has put a litter bin a bit further and is now looking, satisfied, at her organization of the room.

"Stop it, little monster !" she hears Marta chuckling in the bedroom. The shorter girl has taken the kit in her arms which is trying to catch her long hair in its tiny paws.

"Gatito, Gatito ! Come and see what we’ve gotten for you !" Misa calls from the bathroom and Marta releases the baby cat on the floor which sprang toward Misa at once, its tail risen excitedly. The kit immidialaty drops its head in the bowl of food and starts eating gluttony.

"He’s so hungry ! I’m glad we found it, at least he’s safe here until we find a solution", Marta confesses, looking adorably at the little creature. "Let’s go to bed Bebé, I’m tired as if we hadn’t slept all afternoon", she adds with a yawn.

Misa and Marta undress themselves and slides under the duvet. As they turn off the light , they hear tiny footsteps on the floor, followed by a rustling noise at the bottom of the bed. Shortly, they see the kit’s head popping, clawing its way up the duvet before trotting proudly toward them.

The kit settles between the two women and begins to wash, licking its paw before rubbing it on its round face, under the softened stares of the couple, Misa bitting her lips when it starts to purr loudly.

"I guess you found your spot for the night, Gatito", she whispers. "Pero bueno. Buena noche Pollito."

"Buena noche Bebé Misa, buena noche bebé gato", the winger answers with a sight.

☀☀☀

Marta blinks several times before she fully remembers why she looking at something that cute, straight from waking up.

Her girlfriend is laying on her side, still fast asleep and snoring feebly, her arms forming a hook in front of her. Inside of that hook is curled a bundle of brown and black fur, a small ear coming out of the perfect ball shape.

Marta’s heart’s melting at the sight but it’s a bitter sweet feeling and she frowns as she imagines how Misa’s going to feel when they’ll bring the kitten to the shelter later.

She gets up silently, goes to the bathroom, and sights of relief when she sees the kit has used the litter to do its business. The winger does a clean up and goes to shower quickly.

In the bed, Misa is steering as she emerged from a deep and long sleep. She feels a jolt as something prickles her arms and her eyes falls on the kitten stretching awake too. "Oh ! I almost forgot you Gatito ! Dormiste bien ?"

She scratched the kits ear, which purrs at once, and sees Marta exiting the bathroom, "Hola Bebé, look how cute he is !"

The winger comes back onto the bed and look at them both fondly. "You didn’t see the two of you sleeping together earlier. I swear you were so cute it was painful !" Marta lay a kiss on Misa’s forehead, the taller women rises her face to receive another kiss on the lips and smiles.

"He’s beautiful, like an overcooked pan… or like negro chocolate. Un bombon !"

"Oh, pequeño Bombon !", Marta repeats. "Come on Misa, let’s go get breakfast. I’ll call the shelters around Donostia when we’ll be there."

"Vale...", Misa says, although she’s not hungry.

☀

"Yes, a kitten… Sí, today would be great, we can’t keep him at the hotel anymore…Vale perfecto, esta tarde. Muchas gracias."

Marta hangs up and cross eyes with the goalkeeper, who looks away and peers at her cafe con leche quietly. Her heart tightens and she puts her hand onto the goalies’. "He’s going to be alright, Bebé."

"I know, let’s go back to the hotel to check he’s not doing nonsense."

On the way back, Misa picks up a thin fallen branch with a few leaf still attached to it, announcing "I wanna play with Bombon before we take him away", at the curious stare of her girlfriend. Marta’s getting more tensed, even a bit anxious, she realizes Misa’s becoming really attached to the baby cat in the short last of time. It’s going to be so hard for to let him go…

☀

Misa opens the room door in a hurry. She has barely pushed it a tiny head pops at her feet in the corridor, meowing happily.

"Bombon !" she greats him before taking him in her arms and entering the room. Marta can only stare at her girlfriend stroking and kissing tenderly the small fur ball, her insides slowly knotting.

The goalie delicately puts the cat down, waves the branch on the floor and the kitten doesn’t waste a second before running to it and jumping excitedly. "Muy bien Bombon ! Vamos ! Vamos !". The goalkeeper continue to play with him a moment, chuckling at the baby goofy movements.

"Play with him, Pollito!" Misa encouraged Marta, handing her the branch and the winger quickly finds herself laughing like Misa as she leads Bombon running all around the room.

To reward his determination to catch it, Marta drops the piece of wood on the floor, the baby cat starting to bit the thiner parts eagerly and tearing the remaining leaves into pieces.

The two women looks at Bombon and then at each other. They know they’re thoughts are connecting right now, Marta bitting her lips again and Misa looking pleadingly at her.

"Misa… we can’t…", she tries to stay sensible.

Misa’s eyes are getting shiny now, "But Pollito, we can’t leave him…"

"We’re traveling most of time, have some reason! That’s why we didn’t take a dog in the first place."

"I know, but precisely, he’s not a dog. Cats are more independent and we have friends to look after him if we’re away. I lived with a cat, it’s far more manageable than a dog."

Marta takes Misa’s hand in hers, and place the other onto her cheek. The goalie’s almond-shape eyes stay locked on hers, unblinking. "Bebé… you like him already that much ?"

"Yes...", Misa murmurs at once, her voice quivering. To emphasize her words, Bombon comes to rub at her legs, purring like a motor engine.

The shorter woman’s sensing her resistance ebbing away, "I think he has a crush on you too…" She grabs the small cat and her heart melt again at the sight of his astonished little face. "Qué lindo eres, Bombon…"

"You… you mean you’re ok we keep him ?", Misa dares to ask.

"I can’t break your heart, Misa… and we found him, maybe it was destiny…"

"Oooh, Bebé !" Misa enfolds Marta in her arms, the baby cat still in her arms, squeezed in the middle of their embrace. A second later, Misa’s surprising herself by feeling tears running down her cheeks and she holds the winger tighter. "Thank you, Bebé. I love you so much..."

The kit’s fidgeting in her arms and Marta pulls back to let him go. She discovers the goalie’s gleaming face, and feels her own eyes prickling. Marta adorably wipes the tears off Misa’s face. "You’re so sweet, mi portera favorita", she says before kissing her plump lips.

"I wanted to find a present for you but in the end it's you who is giving me the greatest gift I could have asked for", she confesses with emotions.

"Bombon is a gift for both of us. As a dog person, I would never have thought of taking a cat if it wasn't up to you !"

Marta’s smile, combined with her words, dazzles the goalkeeper with pure love and happiness and she leads her to the window facing the city’s wide bay before kissing her again with passion, Bombon at their feet, playling with their shoelaces with little care for what is going on up between the two women.

Adopting Bombon is going to shorten the couple holidays. Misa and Marta now have to return to Madrid to deal with everything that comes with taking care of a new family member, and they are super excited about it.

☀☀☀☀☀☀☀☀☀☀

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