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itneverendshere · 6 months ago

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THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18) - two

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛"

WARNINGS: maybank!reader x sorta canon!rafe; doesn't exactly follow the real plot line but...it does?; am i turning this into a series? maybe.

word count: 6k...

Neither of you ever mentioned that night again, as if it had never happened. It couldn't have happened; it must have been a figment of your overactive imagination.

There was no way in hell you would have let Rafe Cameron have you on top of a dining table, living up to the derogatory "dirty pogue" nickname. You were better than that. You knew better.

Despite that...You found it impossible to look at him for the next forty-eight hours. In fact, facing yourself in the mirror became a challenge, so much so that you refused his help in tending to your wound. Self-sufficiency had long been your norm. Growing up with Luke meant mastering the art of tending to your bruises from a young age.

Initially, there was clearly tension between you and Rafe.

Every time your paths crossed, it dragged you back to that regretful moment—the feeling of his hands, the memory of his presence inside you—but there were bigger things at stake, and so, you pushed the nagging feelings aside, focusing on one thing only: getting out.

You and Rafe didn’t mix, oil and water, two stubborn bastards with heavy emotional baggage. Sometimes it was tricky to work together, but other days, it flowed so easily it gave you whiplash.

In the time that followed, you both worked tirelessly to plan your getaway, meticulously plotting every detail to ensure success and not another round of bullets.

Your job was to sit around and act innocent, while Rafe had to ensure you had a way out and enough money to pay someone off. Avoiding Ward was easy enough since he spent most of his time in Guadalupe.

Rafe scoffed; his arms crossed over his chest as he eyed the small, weather-beaten boat skeptically. "I'm not getting into that piece of shit. No fucking way," he declared, voice dripping with disdain.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the frustration growing in your chest.

He was so fucking insufferable.

"Oh, so you've got a better suggestion?"

He shot you a glare, but you couldn’t help but notice how his eyes caught the shimmer of the clear night sky, "I do," he retorted, gesturing towards a sleek motorboat moored nearby. "That one looks like it might get us somewhere without sinking halfway."

You followed his gaze, your entire face scrunching up as you took in the sight of the motorboat. It was certainly more modern and well-maintained than the rusty old dinghy you had been eyeing, but something about it made you uneasy.

"Hell no?” you hesitated, chewing on your bottom lip nervously. "It seems a bit...too much. We don't want to draw any unnecessary attention to ourselves."

Rafe rolled his eyes, "C'mon,” he scoffed, "This isn't the time to be playing it safe. We need to get out of here, and that boat is our best chance."

You bit your lip, torn between your instincts and Rafe's seemingly reckless impulsiveness.

On one hand, you didn't want to take any unnecessary risks, but on the other hand, you knew that time was running out and you needed to act fast. Ward was coming back to the island soon enough and if he dragged Rafe away with him…you were a lost cause.

There was no third chance.

“What about the guards?” your voice dropped to a whisper as you glanced around nervously. The last thing you needed was someone overhearing your plans.

“I’ve got it covered,” Your skepticism must have shown on your face because he stepped closer, lowering his voice, “Look, I know you don’t trust me, but I’m not about to let us get caught. I’ve been dealing with Ward’s security my whole life. I know how to slip past them.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration, “Fine. But if this goes south, it’s on you.”

“Yeah, yeah, isn’t it always?” he replied, dismissively waving a hand, “Just try not to get shot this time.”

"You think you're so fucking funny, don't you?"

"Keep your voice down."

The sleek motorboat gleamed in the fading light, its potential for escape glinting like a promise of freedom.

As night fell, you both moved with practiced stealth, with a reluctant nod, you followed him towards the sleek motorboat. The docks were eerily quiet, save for the gentle lapping of the waves against the hulls of the boats. Your heart pounded in your chest as you kept a lookout for any sign of the guards.

Rafe moved with the confidence that you envied, quickly untying the boat and preparing it for departure. You glanced around nervously, half-expecting to hear the shout of a guard at any moment. Every shadow seemed like a threat, every noise a potential alarm.

“Hurry up,” you hissed, glancing over your shoulder.

“Calm the fuck down,” Rafe muttered, though he did quicken his pace. “We’re almost ready.”

Your anxiety spiked. This was it. No turning back.

Rafe started the engine, the low rumble sounding like a roar in the silent night. You winced, half-expecting the noise to draw attention. The sound was louder than you expected. But luck seemed to be on your side.

“C’mon,” He whispered, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of trouble, “Get in.”

You climbed aboard, your hands shaking as you settled into the seat.

“Go!” you urged, glancing back at the docks nervously.

Rafe didn’t need to be told twice. The boat lurched forward, cutting through the water with surprising speed. As the island receded into the distance, you felt a little hope. For the first time in months, freedom was within your reach.

As he guided the boat out of the harbor, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“See? I told you it’d be fine,” Rafe said, a hint of smugness in his voice.

“Just keep your eyes on the water,” you retorted, refusing to give him the satisfaction of being right.

He adjusted the throttle, the boat picking up speed. "Relax, Maybank. Enjoy the ride," he said, his tone dripping with mock concern.

You shot him a withering look, gripping the edge of your seat. "Just focus on getting us out of here in one piece.”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, a muscle in his jaw ticking. "You think I don't know what I'm doing?"

"Frankly, I don’t care what you think you know. Just keep us moving.”

Rafe's hands tightened on the wheel, but he said nothing. The silence between you was a common thing, the hum of the engine the only sound cutting through the night. The coastline was a distant memory now, the open water vast and foreboding. You kept scanning the horizon, every wave hiding a potential threat.

"You're acting like we're about to get ambushed by pirates," Rafe finally said, his tone lighter but still edged with that irritation.

"Better safe than sorry," you muttered, refusing to meet his gaze.

Rafe let out a sharp laugh. "Always so paranoid. That's what gets you in trouble."

You whipped your head around to glare at him.

“No, your family got me in trouble. In case you’ve forgotten.”

His face hardened, the easy bravado slipping for just a moment, “Huh, right. ‘Cause your friends are such fucking saints.”

“At least they’re not murder—”

You cut yourself off before you said it, but the damage was done anyways. Rafe's jaw tightened, the muscle there twitching again as he ground his teeth, lips pressed into a thin line. He didn't respond verbally, but the anger you could feel radiating from him was answer enough to you.

He turned his attention back to the horizon, his grip on the wheel tightening until his knuckles were white. The boat's engine roared louder as he increased the speed, the vessel slicing through the water with renewed urgency.

The waves splashed higher, and the night air became colder, but Rafe didn't seem to notice. His focus was absolute. Yeah, he was pissed.

What could you possibly say? Apologize?

There was no way in hell you were apologizing to him. Not after everything his father had put you through. If anyone owed an apology, it was him. And you knew you'd see the world end before Rafe Cameron ever uttered those words.

It was infuriating. There he was taking a step forward, leaving his loyalty to Ward behind and he still refused to show remorse if not between four walls with you. Never out in the open, never too loud.

You sat in silence, each lost in your thoughts, the weight of the past not letting you calm down the way you really wanted to. It was done.

And although you wished things had been differently, they weren’t.

Despite the chill in the air, sweat prickled at the back of your neck, tension coiling in your muscles. The night stretched on, like it was never ending, you hated every minute of it.

After what felt like an eternity, light appeared on the horizon, signaling the approach of dawn. You breathed a sigh, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly.

The worst was over, for now at least.

Rafe glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, “We’re almost there. Keep an eye out for any patrol boats," he instructed, his voice curt and businesslike.

He was all focus still, that calculating side that had always unnerved you.

You nodded, scanning the waters diligently. The further you went, the more the reality of your situation sank in. You were out there, in the middle of nowhere, relying on a Cameron to get you to safety. The irony was almost laughable.

“Where are we heading?" you asked, breaking the silence. Your voice was softer, dulled by the exhaustion.

"We'll head south, find somewhere to lay low for a while. I've got contacts who owe me favors."

“Uh? We’re not going back to The Outer Banks?”

He shook his head, attention fixed on the horizon. “No. Not unless you want to get killed.”

The Outer Banks, once your home, now felt like a trap waiting to snap shut. You should’ve figured Ward would send someone after you the minute he figured you were gone. A loose end.

Shills ran down your body as you remembered your close encounter with death.

"Your contacts won’t sell us out?"

He smirked, though there was no humor in it. "They know better than to cross me. Criminal, remember?”

You sighed, ready to jump into the water if it meant a little space from the unbearable atmosphere. Despite everything, you couldn't ignore the nagging feeling of guilt from what you’d almost said before.

“You know what I meant.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Listen,” you began, your voice faltering as you struggled to find the right words. He glanced at you, his expression guarded, but you continued, “I don’t care, okay? Not right now. What matters is that you’re here, not with him.”

Rafe's face softened slightly; the hard edges of his demeanor were momentarily blunted by your words. He looked away, his jaw working as if he were chewing over something in his mind. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, more subdued than before.

“If you say so.”

As you drew nearer to the shore, details of the island began to come into focus. Lush greenery blanketed the landscape, punctuated by towering palm trees swaying gently in the breeze. It was oddly like the place you’d been stuck in for months, but this time, there was no sense of dread in you. The boat slowed as Rafe expertly maneuvered it into a small cove, sheltered from prying threats by rocky outcrops and overhanging foliage. With a soft thud, the vessel came to a stop, the engine sputtering into silence.

Once he was done, he stepped onto the water, knees deep as the sandy shore still lay a little ahead.

You blinked in confusion as he turned to you, his arms open wide in a gesture that left you momentarily perplexed. The water lapped gently against the sides of the boat, its surface reflecting the golden hues of the setting sun.

"What are you doing?" you asked, your brow furrowing in bemusement as you eyed his outstretched arms.

“Helping you.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his simple gesture of assistance. It took a moment for his words to register, and when they did, a faint blush tinged your cheeks at your slowness.

In all fairness, you weren’t used to this side of Rafe. You’d only seen it a few times and it was…something else entirely.

“Right.”

As Rafe's hand brushed against your waist while helping you out of the boat, your skin prickled in goosebumps. Traitor.

You quickly brushed off the sensation, chalking it up to nerves from the situation. With a grateful nod, you stepped onto the sandy shore, feeling the warm grains shift beneath your feet. The island stretched out before you, its landscape dotted with lush vegetation and towering trees. It was larger than you had expected, much bigger than Ward’s private hell.

"We should find a place to sleep,” you said, turning to Rafe as you scanned the horizon for any signs of civilization.

He nodded in agreement, his gaze following yours as he surveyed the landscape. "Let's head towards the center of the island. There should be some motels.”

With a shared nod, you set off along the sandy shore, the waves crashing against the beach providing a rhythmic backdrop to your footsteps.

As you walked, an uneasy feeling crept over you, the hairs on the back of your neck prickling, maybe it was just the paranoia that had become like second nature to you over the past year.

After a while, you noticed a winding path leading into the dense foliage of the island's interior. Without a word, you and Rafe followed it, venturing deeper into the heart of the island.

The sounds of civilization faded, replaced by the rustling of leaves and the chirping of birds.

Finally, after what felt like hours of walking, you emerged into a clearing. Before you stood a beat up motel, its faded paint and weather-beaten facade blending seamlessly into the surrounding landscape.

"This should do," you said, nodding towards the building, "I guess."

“Yeah. Good for a night or two, my contact won’t be here till then.”

As you entered the motel lobby, the air was thick with the scent of stale cigarettes and cheap air freshener. Rafe followed closely behind you, his expression unreadable as he glanced around the dimly lit room. You approached the front desk, where a bored-looking clerk sat slouched behind the counter, flipping through a magazine with half-hearted interest.

"Hi there," Rafe said, flashing a charming smile as he leaned casually against the counter. "My wife and I are looking for a room for the night."

His what?

Your eyes widened in surprise, but you quickly hid your reaction, playing along with his impromptu act. It was obvious it wasn't the first time Rafe had pulled a stunt like this, and you had to admit, he had a talent for getting what he wanted.

To pretend and lie his way out.

The clerk glanced up from his magazine, peeking over the two of you with mild curiosity. "Sure thing," he said, his tone disinterested. "How many nights?"

"One for now," Rafe replied smoothly, reaching into his pocket to produce a wad of cash that you hadn't even realized he had. It was a substantial amount, more than enough to cover the cost of survival for at least two weeks.

The clerk took the cash without comment, handing Rafe a key with a grunt of acknowledgment.

"Room 203," he said, gesturing towards a staircase in the corner of the lobby. "Upstairs, second door on the left."

"Thanks," Rafe said, pocketing the key with a nod of gratitude. He turned to you; his expression unreadable. "Let’s go, baby.”

Baby?

He must've been out of his goddamn mind. His hand found yours, rough fingers intertwining with yours in a gesture that felt oddly intimate. You glanced at him, confused, but he simply squeezed your hand reassuringly, focused on the hallway.

When you reached the door to room, he released your hand with a reluctant sigh. That always happened with him, there was always something new you couldn’t pinpoint, but eventually got used to. The charming, panty-dropping posture was gone in an instant, replaced by his usual brooding demeanor as he unlocked the door and pushed it open, revealing a modest but comfortable-looking room.

“After you.”

You swallowed your surprise at his manners and stepped into the room, grateful for the relative privacy it offered. Rafe followed close behind, closing the door behind him with a soft click. It was sparsely furnished, with a queen-sized bed dominating the space and a small television mounted on the wall opposite. A worn armchair sat in the corner, and a narrow window offered a glimpse of the night sky outside.

"It’s a fucking dump,” Rafe said, his tone light but with an underlying note of exhaustion. "But it'll do for now."

You sank onto the edge of the bed, resting the mattress. “Better than my room back home.”

“Really?”

"Don't act so surprised. We're not exactly living in luxury over there."

You could see the realization click on Rafe's face as if he’d forgotten your background, “Didn’t think it was that bad for you.”

"Yeah, well, appearances can be deceiving," you replied, "But let's save up the pity for later. I'm more interested in asking you why the fuck you got just one room with one bed."

“I can sleep on the floor, relaaax.”

You shot him a skeptical look, eyebrow raised in disbelief. "Seriously? You'd actually sleep on the floor?"

He shrugged, "Why not? It's not like I haven't slept in worse places."

You didn’t want to delve into that.

Instead, you only stared at him for a moment, searching for any hint of insincerity in his expression. To your surprise, you found none.

Moments like these reminded you that he was human, and you hated it.

“Okay.”

With a weary sigh, you rose from the bed and began to remove your shoes, the events of the day finally catching up with you. Exhaustion settled into your bones, dragging you down like an unbearable weight.

Rafe watched you for a moment before turning away to rummage through spare sheets and pillows, preparing a makeshift bed. There was no time to change clothes; you had left the little you had behind.

As you slipped beneath the covers and closed your eyes, you couldn't ignore the possibility that this was only the calm before the storm. It felt too easy.

You heard the rustle of sheets as he settled onto the floor, making himself as comfortable as possible, “Don’t fucking snore, Cameron.”

Rafe chuckled softly, the rare sound carrying through the darkness of the room. "Wouldn't dream of it, Maybank.”

Hours later, you woke suddenly, your heart pounding in your chest, the remnants of a nightmare still clinging to the edges of your consciousness.

For a moment, you lay there in the darkness, disoriented and trying to make sense of your surroundings. Then, you heard it—a low, murmured voice coming from the other side of the room. Turning towards the source of the sound, you saw Rafe lying on the makeshift bed on the floor, his face twisted in a grimace of pain.

He was tossing and turning restlessly, his brow furrowed as he muttered incomprehensible words under his breath. The sight of him trapped in a nightmare weirdly stirred something protective within you. Despite everything, despite the walls he put up, you didn’t like to see him in pain. It felt so familiar, and for a second you were back home, in your room, rocking yourself back and forth after waking up in hysterical screams.

Moving quietly, you slipped out of bed and crossed the room to kneel beside him. Gently, you reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a gentle shake.

"Rafe," you whispered softly, trying to rouse him from his slumber. "Hey, wake up."

In the next second, you were gasping for breath as Rafe's hands closed around your throat in a vice-like grip. Shock and fear nearly knocked you out instantly but your body instinctively started against his hold as you struggled to break free.

Muscle memory and all.

"R-Rafe!" you gasped, your voice coming out in a strangled whisper as you clawed at his hands, desperate for him to let go. But he was so lost in the grip of his nightmare, his grip unyielding as he continued to squeeze, his eyes wide and unseeing.

Panic took over you as the world started to blur around the edges, darkness creeping into your vision while your lungs burned for air. Frantically, you tried to call out to him again, to wake him from whatever hellish nightmare held him in its grasp, but your voice was little more than a choked rasp.

“Rafe!"

Then, as suddenly as it began, the pressure around your throat disappeared, leaving you gasping and wheezing for breath as you collapsed against the bed.

Blinking away the tears that pricked at your eyes, you looked up to see him kneeling beside you, his hands shaking as he stared at you with wide, horrified eyes.

"Fuck, fuck," he whispered, his voice trembling, "Shit, shit. I didn't mean to—I didn't know—"

His words were choked off by a strangled sob as he buried his face in his hands, his entire body shaking with the force of his sobs.

It was a startling thing to witness , seeing the usually composed and confident Rafe Cameron reduced to this, his vulnerability laid bare for you to see. For a moment, you were frozen, unsure of what to do or say.

But then, instinct kicked in again,and you reached out to him, wrapping your arms around him.

He practically dragged you into his lap, one hand wrapped around your waist and the other tangled in your hair. He only shook his head, his sobs growing louder as he buried his face where your neck and shoulder met, his entire body wracked with tremors. All you could do was hold him close, offering whatever comfort you could.

Eventually, his sobs began to subside, his breathing evening out as he clung to you like a lifeline.

You held him close, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head, “Better?”

Rafe nodded against your shoulder; his breathing still ragged but gradually steadying. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the soft sound of your heartbeat. "Yeah, I think so."

You remained silent, holding him close as he slowly calmed down. The weight of his body against yours was oddly comforting, grounding you and pushing back the memories of his violent outburst just moments before.

After a while, Rafe pulled away slightly, his eyes red-rimmed but clear as he looked up at you "I didn't mean to hurt—”

You reached out and brushed a stray lock of his blonde hair from his sweaty forehead.

“I know," you whispered softly, “It was just a nightmare. I have them too.”

You didn’t know why you offered him that solace.

"You do?"

You nodded, though you knew he couldn't see it in the dim light.

"Yeah," you admitted, "They’re pretty bad too.”

There was a brief pause, filled only with the sound of your quiet breathing and the distant hum of the night outside.

Then, Rafe spoke again, "What do you dream about?"

You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. But something in Rafe's earnest expression told you to be honest, to let down your guard just this once,

“Luke. You?”

Rafe's immediate reaction was defensive, hands pulling away from your body, “Doesn't matter."

You felt stupid for asking him such a personal thing.

He wasn't like you.

“Do you want to sleep in bed with me? It might be better than the floor."

"I'm fine on the floor. Don't worry about me."

But you weren't about to let him off the hook that easily.

With a sigh, you reached out and gently grasped his arm, turning him to face you again, "Rafe," you said, voice borderline pleading, “Just sleep on the bed. Okay?"

For a moment, he hesitated, his gaze flickering between you and the bed, but with a reluctant sigh, he nodded.

"Okay, okay," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "Fine."

With that, he rose from the floor and cautiously joined you on the bed. You shifted slightly to make room for him, and as he settled beside you.

“Don’t snore.”

“Not more than you do.”

The rest of the night passed in a blur of fitful sleep and restless dreams, but somehow, with Rafe by your side, it felt bearable.

When morning finally came, you awoke to find he was already gone, his side of the bed cold, no traces of his presence, and a messy scribbled note left behind on the bedside table.

"Picking up food and clothes, brb. Don't open the door."

You felt relieved that he hadn't disappeared without a word and was instead putting in the effort to rely on you.

Deep down, you knew he had left as soon as he woke up, probably sprinting out of the room to avoid waking you and having any awkward confrontations about last night. It was going to be a long day, especially if he was determined to hide his emotions. You knew the old, bad Rafe Cameron would make a reappearance.

You got up from the bed and stretched. You needed a shower. You stank. It had been two days since you had washed yourself properly, and the thought of having gone to sleep in such a state made you want to hurl.

You’d have to ask for another set of fresh sheets if you stayed another night.

As you stepped into the bathroom, the warm water cascading over your skin felt like a dream, washing away the previous night. The steam filled the small space, enveloping you like a comforting embrace as you took your time, allowing the water to ease the knots of stress from your muscles. You focused on washing away the dirt and grime, letting the familiar routine ground you.

Yet, even as you lathered soap onto your skin, your mind couldn't help but drift back to Rafe, to the way he had clung to you in the darkness.

Another reminder that despite his tough exterior, he was just as human as any of you, with fears and insecurities that ran deep. And it terrified you, because up until last month Rafe Cameron was not capable of emotions to you, only violence.

You stepped out of the shower, the steam still lingering in the air and with a towel wrapped snugly around your body, you stepped back into the main room of the motel, feeling refreshed.

“Huh, good morning to you too.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin, “Fuck!”

Rafe stood there, leaning against the doorway, something similar to a playful smirk at the corners of his lips as he watched your startled reaction.

His arms were laden with bags of groceries and a few articles of clothing.

"Didn't mean to scare you. Just wanted to make sure you were alive in there."

You stared at him incredulously, “Turn around!”

He scoffed, walking into the room as he closed the door with his foot, “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

He said it so casually, it irked you. As if you two hadn’t been purposely ignoring that night ever happened. You shot him a withering glare, snatching a towel from the nearby chair and aiming at his face, full force.

"That's not the point, Cameron," you grumbled, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment, “And you didn’t see shit. I was dressed.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, catching the towel with ease before tossing it back to you "What's the matter, Maybank? You shy all of a sudden?"

“Will you shut up?”

He held up his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening as he leaned against the nearest wall.

There was no point in getting into a pointless argument with him, especially not when you had more important things to worry about. Instead, you focused on drying yourself off and getting dressed in the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind you.

As you emerged again, fully dressed and composed, Rafe had already begun unpacking the bags of groceries, laying out an assortment of food on the small table in the corner of the room.

The sight of the makeshift spread made your stomach growl in anticipation, reminding you just how long it had been since your last meal.

“Hungry?” Rafe asked, glancing up from where he was arranging the food.

You nodded eagerly, making your way over to the table and helping yourself to a plate of fruit and plain toast.

As you ate, Rafe filled you in on his plans for the day. It was strange, hearing him talk so casually, without insults, without fear, or threats. For so long, you had seen him as nothing more than a spoiled, entitled rich kid, content to go through life on his family’s wealth and influence.

But ever since that night, you couldn't help but feel a newfound sense of respect for him. He wasn’t Ward.

When he finished speaking, you glanced up from your plate, “Sounds like a plan. Is your contact here, yet?”

“Nah, only tomorrow.”

“Great. So, we’re on our own for now?”

“Yeah, you and me, Pretty Maybank.”

"Hey," you began, your tone light as you tried to sound casual, "I've been curious—why do you call me 'Pretty Maybank'? Is there a story behind it?"

Rafe's gaze flicked up from where he was picking at his food. He seemed taken aback by your question as if he hadn't expected you to bring it up.

He shrugged, "I don't know," he admitted his voice casual but tinged with a hint of embarrassment. "Just seemed fitting, I guess."

You raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, "Fitting? How so?"

Rafe hesitated, elbows dropping to the table as he searched for the right words. "I don't know," he repeated, his voice softer this time. "You just...are pretty, Maybank, everyone knows that.”

You felt like there was more to the story.

“Oh.”

He leaned back, now sat in the old chair, “Might start calling you snoring Maybank though.”

Your lips twitched, fighting back a smile, “You’re not funny. At all.”

“Sure.”

You tilted your head, studying him intently. He looked like a completely different person from last night, “Do you feel any better?”

“About what?” He feigned innocence, avoiding your gaze, as his fingers started tapping nervously on the table. You knew what that meant.

You leaned forward as you reached out to touch his hand gently. “Uh—Y'know, last night, your nightmare.”

“Don’t,” Rafe's abrupt change in demeanor catched you off guard, his walls shooting up in an instant, his tone laced with defensiveness.

You straightened up as you withdrew your hand, a wall of your own rising to match his.

"It’s not important," he snapped,"Just drop it, okay?"

You recoiled at his harsh tone, the way he spoke down at you making you want to slap him across the room. It was clear that he wasn’t in the mood to talk about whatever demons haunted him in the night, and you knew better than to push him when he was like this.

But you were feeling inspired.

“Why do you always do that?” You blurted out, frustration taking over your mouth.

You needed some sense of security around him, and every single time you were close to getting it, he backed out.

He stood up straight, rolled his shoulders back, and narrowed his eyes at you “Not doing anything.”

"You always shut me out," You continued, words coming out in a rush as you struggled to articulate your feelings. "Every time. You say a few words, and then bamb, gone. We’re not friends, that’s fine. But I need to know you’re someone I can rely on, okay? You can’t be doing this. One moment you’re all trusting and the other…I don’t even know what the fuck you are. You can say no nicely, you don’t need to act like a dick.”

Rafe's jaw clenched, his expression turning steely as he locked onto your gaze, "I don’t want to be your fucking friend, Maybank," he retorted,"I'm protecting myself. And if you can't handle that, then maybe you're the one who needs to reevaluate things."

The words stung like a slap to the face.

You felt the color drain from your face.

"Protecting yourself?" you shot back, your voice rising with each word. "From what, exactly? Me?"

He didn’t move, didn’t so much as toss a glance your way as he responded, “Keep your voice down.”

You shook your head, standing up from your seat. He'd said the same exact thing before you got on the boat and you were tired of being pushed aside like a toy.

“No, I fucking won’t. You’re the one who punched me on that ship, your guards were the ones who shot me, your father is the one who wants me dead,” your lips quirked in a small, humorless smile, “And you want to talk about protecting yourself?”

Rafe felt himself flinch, noting how his brows seemed to furrow ever-so-slightly. There was a feeling in your stomach that you couldn’t make out yet, but it was heavy and made you antsy.

"You think I don't know that?" he growled, “You think I don't carry that guilt with me every single day?"

His words caught you off guard, the raw emotion in his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, frustration etched into every line of his face.

"You have no idea what it's like. To carry that weight, to know that everything you touch turns to shit.” His voice was probing, his eyes scanning your face with a scrutiny that made you want to run out the door. “And you—Shit, you’re just searching for some confirmation that I am as horrible as everyone’s made me out to be. Newsflash, I am."

You let out a groan, the sound scraping against your throat. "I’m trying to help you! Are you stupid? Oh my god.”

"I don't need your help!" he snapped, standing taller than you, "I don't need anyone's help. I've been doing just fine on my own."

You stepped closer to him, pushing against his chest with your finger, "Fine? Is that what you call it? Living on the run, constantly looking over your shoulder, never knowing who you can trust? That's not fine, Rafe. That's not living."

His hand shot out, gripping your wrist tightly, “I don’t know how to live. I know how to serve, that’s it.” His grip on your wrist tightened as if he was trying to anchor himself, "I just...I can't."

Can't trust you, you think that's what he wanted to say.

“Right,” You swallowed, finding the carpet of the room suddenly all too interesting, “Good enough to fuck, not to trust.”

His grip loosened slightly, his hand falling away from your wrist as if burned, “I never said that.”

“You don’t have to. Dirty pogue, remember?”

His breathing mirrored your own, both erratic, leaning in closer, breath hot against your skin as his nose brushed against yours, “You think I’d risk my life for you if I believed that?”

“I don’t know. Would you?”

“You have no idea," he breathed, “Do you?”

"I don't understand you."

"Neither do I."

Without another word, he closed the distance between you in a single fluid motion. His hands found their way to your face, fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss. His touch seemed to tingle between tenderness and roughness, with soft, gentle kisses blending seamlessly with fervent, desperate ones, as if he was unable to choose between cherishing the moment and giving in to his desires completely.

You melted into him, your body responding instinctively to his touch. It felt different from the first time you kissed. Less violent, less primal, more…intimate. Like he was trying to convey everything he couldn't put into words, everything he had been keeping bottled up inside, and you welcomed it.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours.

“You can’t keep kissing me to avoid questions.”

"I know," he murmured, "It's just easier than talking."

You sighed, your hand coming up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly against his stubbled jawline, "It's wrong."

He closed his eyes, his breath hitching slightly at your words. For a moment, you thought he might pull away again, and retreat into his shell. But then, to your surprise, he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light kiss.

"I know," he murmured against your lips,"But for now, can we just...be?"

You nodded, "Yeah," you whispered, "For now, we can just...be."

Neither of you knew what you were doing nor the consequences to come.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe x pogue!reader #rafe x Maybank!reader #rafe cameron x maybank!reader #rafe cameron angst #rafe angst #rafe fic #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fluff

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doumadono · 7 months ago

Text

Warnings: smut w/o plot, fem sidekick!reader, semi-public, angry smut, names calling, unprotected p in v, creampie, pro hero Dynamight being himself, mentions of fwb & work affair

Synopsis: after catching another villain and dealing with pesky reporters, Bakugo needs to blow off some steam

A/N: I wrote this one shot to celebrate the airing of MHA Season 7 :) Enjoy!

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST

Pro hero Dynamight stood victorious after a grueling battle with a dangerous criminal. His muscles were tense, his body still buzzing with adrenaline.

As the media swarmed the battleground, arriving even before the emergency services, Dynamight stood amidst the chaos of the battleground, his expression grim as reporters swarmed around him like vultures. Their incessant questions grated on his nerves, and he couldn't help but scoff at their foolishness.

"What's it like being a hero, Dynamight?" one reporter shouted, nearly thrusting a microphone in Bakugo's face.

Bakugo scowled, his voice gruff as he replied, "It's not a fucking game, you idiot. It's about putting your life on the line to protect these morons." He gestured to the injured civilians nearby, his gaze flickering to where you were assisting the paramedics.

"Can you tell us more about your strategy during the battle?" another reporter asked.

"Strategy? I blasted the shit outta that villain. End of story."

"Is it true that you single-handedly took down the villain?"

Bakugo rolled his eyes. "I don't need a fucking team to handle a scrub like that."

"Are you worried about the safety of the civilians?"

"What kind of dumbass question is that? Of course, I'm worried. That's why I'm here, isn't it?"

Another reporter piped up, "Do you ever fear for your own safety, Bakugo?"

Bakugo's lip curled in disdain. "Of course I fucking do. But I don't let fear hold me back from doing what needs to be done, you idiot."

As the questions continued, Bakugo's impatience grew, and he didn't hesitate to show his displeasure towards the reporters. Despite his gruff demeanor towards them, Bakugo's focus remained fixed on you as you moved with purpose, assisting the paramedics in providing aid to the injured. Later, as you assisted the police in securing the villain, his gaze never wavered from your form.

Finally, as the barrage of questions from the reporters finally ceased, Bakugo's patience wore thin. With a curt dismissal, he declared, "I've got more important shit to deal with than your stupid questions. You're nothing but scandal and drama-thirsty extras."

Turning away from the reporters, Bakugo made his way over to you, his expression softening slightly as he approached. "Hey, Y/N," he said gruffly, his voice laced with concern. "You holding up okay?"

You nodded, grateful for his concern, even though you knew you had moments of struggle during the battle. It wasn't that you lacked skills; you were simply inexperienced.

But Bakugo didn't seem to mind. In fact, he saw your potential, and that was all that mattered to him. "Alright," Bakugo said, his tone firm but reassuring. "Our job here is done. The police and paramedics will take over from here. Let's head back to the agency."

You nodded, feeling a mix of relief and exhaustion wash over you. It had been a long and intense battle, but knowing that the situation was now under control eased some of the tension that had been building inside you.

Together, you and Bakugo made your way back to the agency.

Bakugo led the way through narrow, secluded alleyways, determined to escape the relentless pursuit of the paparazzi.

The evening was settling in, and the soft glow of street lamps cast a dim, gentle light on the sidewalks.

Bakugo's fists were clenched, and he could feel the tension building up inside of him. He needed a release. "Damn it, they were fucking annoying," Bakugo growled, his voice tinged with adrenaline and frustration as he leaned against the cold brick wall, stopping to catch breath. "These reporters, goddammit!"

You nodded in agreement, feeling the tension radiating off him. "You did it, though, Bakugo-sama," you replied, trying to offer some reassurance. "And you handled them very…. Well."

Without saying a word, Bakugo stepped closer, his gaze intense, his breath hot against your lips as he crushed his mouth against yours n a bruising kiss. The kiss was rough, urgent, a release of pent-up tension. His tongue pushed past your lips, tangling with yours in a heated dance.

You were caught off guard when Bakugo suddenly kissed you without warning. The truth was, it wasn't the first time he had been that close with you. You two had been hooking up from time to time, with a reciprocal agreement between you. Now you could taste the sweat and grit of battle on him, and it only served to heighten your arousal. Your tongues danced together as you explored each other's mouths.

Bakugo could feel his cock growing hard in his unform pants, and he knew well you could feel it too.

His hands roamed your body, squeezing your ass, cupping your breasts, pinching your nipples through the fabric of your costume.

You moaned into his mouth, your body responding instinctively to his touch. You could feel his cock hardening against your stomach, and you reached down to stroke him through his pants.

"Shit," he cursed softly between kisses, his breath hot against your skin. "I fucking need ya, dollface." His hands tangled in your hair as he deepened the kiss by yanking your head back.

Bakugo broke the kiss, his breath coming in harsh pants. He started to kiss your neck, nibbling on your earlobes and licking your skin. He licked a stripe with his tongue from your ear down to your neck, following the pulse point. A grin tugged at his lips as he felt the rapid beat of your heart beneath the tip of his flexed tongue. With a fast motion, Dynamight spun you around, pushing you against the cold brick wall. You gasped as he yanked your pants down, exposing your ass to the cool night air. He licked his fingers, then reached around to rub your clit, making you wet and ready for him.

You were utterly shocked when he suddenly acted hat bold in the middle of the alleyway. It wasn't that he was shy about sex, not at all. In fact, he had a history of taking you on his desk in his agency, reveling in the thrill of the possibility of getting caught. But this was a whole new level of brazenness. You moaned, grinding your slick pussy against the rough heel of his hand. "Holy Might…"

He pulled his pants and black boxer briefs down under the curve of his ass, revealing his rock-hard cock. Bakugo chuckled, a low, dark sound when he spotted you looking up at him above your shoulder, then positioned his cock at your entrance. He thrust into you from behind, hard and deep, making you cry out. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the alley as he began to fuck you, his hips slamming against your plump ass. "It's fucking Holy Dynamight for ya, little cock slut," he grunted through gritted teeth. "Goddamn, you're so fucking tight," he added, his voice low and husky.

"Yes, fuck, yes," you panted, your fingers clawing at the brick wall. You could feel every inch of his veiny cock inside you, stretching you open and hitting all the right spots, the mushroom tip of his dick kissing your firm cervix.

Bakugo grabbed your hair, pulling your head back, making you arch your back under an odd angle as he continued to pound into you. The slight pain only served to heighten your pleasure, and you found yourself begging for more. "Harder, harder, Bakugo-sama," you panted, your words nothing but a breathless whispers, your body shaking with each powerful thrust of his.

Bakugo obliged, his hips moving faster, his cock going deeper.

You could feel a coil of heat forming low in your belly. You found yourself digging your nails into the rough brick wall as Bakugo took you from behind, his movements relentless and powerful.

He didn't hold back, occasionally delivering sharp spanks to your ass. "Fuck," he groaned, his voice husky with desire. "You're taking me so damn well, little newbie."

His praise only spurred you on, your body responding eagerly to his every touch and thrust.

Bakugo slid his hand down your stomach and reached between your legs, finding your clit. He began to rub it in slow circles, and you moaned as the pleasure built. He continued to tease you, his fingers working their magic until you were panting with need.

You reached down, placing your hand on top of his one, still nestled between your thighs. "Rub my clit," you urged, your voice dripping with desire.

But instead of complying, Bakugo pushed your hand away and delivered a few sharp spanks to your slick pussy. "Shut the fuck up, slut," he growled into your ear, his voice low and commanding. "I'll decide if you deserve to have your clit touched or not." Bakugo's grip on your hair tightened, his breath hot against your ear as he growled, "Now, cum for me, little slut." Dynamight graciously accepted your plea, withdrawing his hand from between your thighs. He spat on his digits, and with a thick glob of saliva coating his fingers, he slid his hand back where it belonged, rubbing your clit with a fierce intensity.

And with a few more hard thrusts, you came. Your body shook, your pussy clenching around his cock as waves of pleasure washed over you. "Bakugo-sama!"

Bakugo followed soon after, his cock pulsing inside you as your boss emptied himself inside you. He pulled out slowly, watching his pearly, thick cum dripping down your thighs.

You turned to face him, a satisfied yet a little hesitant smirk on your face. "My, my, boss," you whispered, "I still can't believe this rookie is your favorite," you gave him a look, pointing to yourself.

Bakugo returned the smirk, then leaned in to kiss you again, a slower, gentler kiss this time. He pulled his pants back up and adjusted them, ensuring he looked presentable once more.

You, too, adjusted your hero costume and approached him. Climbing onto your tiptoes, you reached up to fix his bangs, which were still damp with sweat. "Maybe you'd like to come over to my place to freshen up?" you offered, a sultry smirk playing on your lips.

"Sounds like a damn good idea," Bakugo growled, his voice husky. Without hesitation, he reached out and grabbed the meat of your ass, pulling you closer to him. "Lead the way, dollface," he added, his eyes smoldering with lust.

#bakugou smut #bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bakugo x reader smut #mha bakugou #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #mha smut #bnha smut #bakugo smut #bakugou scenarios #bakugo x reader #anime smut #bakugou x you #bakugo katsuki #divider by cafekitsune #dynamight x reader #dynamight

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backtothefanfiction · 1 year ago

Text

Professor Peter Parker

Summary: The first day of college nerves are suddenly made worse when you realised the guy you f*cked last night is your new Physics Professor!

Warnings! 18+ ONLY! This is some of the filthiest smut I have ever written and posted on here yet. Female reader and pronouns, Age gap (everyone is of legal age, Peter is a very young Professor), Oral (F + M Receiving), Dirty Talk (so much fucking dirty talk), praise kink, edging, P in V, Peter Parker (YES he does need his own warning), One Night Stand... or is it?, ITS SEX PEOPLE, JUST STRAIGHT UP SEX WITH A LITTLE PLOT FOR ADDED TENSION AND POW!

Word Count: 4.9k+

A/N: Consider this my formal application piece for the literary prostitutes society. There are no words for this, so I'm just gonna type/sing Don't Lose Your Head from Six. "Sorry not sorry but what I said, I'm just tryin' to have some fun..." But seriously though this was so self indulgent and I can't believe this came out of me. It's very much giving Aria and Ezra in Pretty Little Liars but older and much more Peter Parker. Also I am really sorry about if the tense keeps changing, I sometimes have a problem with finding my rhythm and I really cba to spend the time working it all out and changing it.

First day of college. Standard level of nerves for a first day. Are you running on just a couple hours of sleep? Sure. Still a little tipsy from last night? Okay, yeah, maybe just a little, but that’s a good thing right. Takes the edge off. But then again numbers and science had never let you down before. You can do physics. You’ve got this.

You took a deep breath, hand hesitating on the door handle. ‘This is the first day of the rest of your life.’ You said to yourself, breathing deeply.

You found a spot somewhere in the middle of the room. Not so eager you were at the front but you also didn’t want to hide away in the back. That and you were pretty sure you were due for an eye test and if you sat any further back you wouldn’t be able to read the board. You got out your notepad, flipping open to the first page, your fingers smoothing across the fresh paper comfortingly. You reach for a fresh pencil from the novelty pack your Mom had bought you especially for your first week, knowing you prefer the feel of writing in pencil than pen, the ink always getting smudged on your hand from your messy scrawl. You pluck the one with tiny zebra all over it from the clear case before placing it back in your bag. Your fingers drum the back of the pencil on your page nervously as you wait. You tried not to overthink things as your stomach began to churn. Had you really turned up this early? You took a quick look around the room at the other 5 people who had actually been there before you. ‘Hey,’ you reasoned to yourself, ‘at least you weren’t as early as them.’

You yawned. Damn you were tired. Although you had this early class, when your new room mate suggested you go out with the guys who lived across the hall you couldn’t say no. To be fair, it had been a good night all considered. You had met some new people, exchanged a few numbers, agreed to go to the end of semester drama club performance even though the term had only just started, drank way too many jello shots, got snuck into a local bar and then ended up going home with a tall brunette with the softest yet devious brown eyes you had ever seen who completely rocked your world.

You absentmindedly rubbed your thighs together, squirming slightly in your seat as you thought back to his head between your legs. The lewd moans he’d pulled from your lips echoing around your brain. It sent a fresh new wave of arousal straight to your core.

‘Not the time or place.’ you berated, instead forcing your mind back into the classroom and the task at hand. ‘Physics of Matter with Professor Peter Parker. He was probably middle aged’ you thought to yourself. It was always the case with classes like these, middle aged men finally leaving the lab for the first time after finally completing their life's work, now relenting to their wife’s begging to spend more time with the family. Or older men with white hair, wrinkles and tweed, desperately holding on to their independence, understimulated by the idea of retired life when all that knowledge of matter and the universe was rattling around their brains. ‘Young hot professors were only to be found in the movies or on TV’ you daydreamed as you tried to distract yourself from the growing pit of nerves in your stomach.

You check your phone every few seconds as other students file into the room, finding their own seats as you count down the minutes. 5 minutes… 3 minutes… 2 minutes… 1 minute… … He’s late… 1 minute past… 2 minutes past… 3 min-

“Okay, okay, settle down!” A voice called out as the classroom door opened, far younger than she expected and slightly familiar. “Welcome to Physics of Matter,” the voice continued as he made his way towards the board, picking up a bit of chalk and lifting it to the board as he spoke, “I am Professor Parker, but please,” he said dropping the piece of chalk back onto the little shelf at the bottom of the board, “call me Peter.” He said finally turning around.

SHIT!

DOUBLE SHIT!

You dip your head towards your page as you sink a little bit down in your seat. Hopefully he won’t notice. ‘FUCK!’ your head was suddenly screaming as all those memories of the night before flooded your brain again. His messy hair. His naked body. The way he had moaned into your cunt- FUCK!

You subtly glanced around the room from your head's dipped position. This had to be some new prank show right. There’s no way this happened in real life. There had to be cameras. He’s an actor right? Ashton Kutcher was about to burst through the classroom door shouting “YOU’VE BEEN PUNK’D” any second followed by the actual Professor Parker, right? Right?

“Now I’m not gonna ask you to get your books out this lesson,” he began to say playfully, his voice carrying around the room as he walked back and forth in front of his desk surveying his new class. “Today is about you getting to know me and me just going over all the things we are gonna be covering over the course of our year together.” He said, talking a lot with his hands. “As much as I’d love to start getting into equations with you, I’ve learnt that that tends to be futile during our first lessons. I mean, just by a show of hands, who went out drinking last night?” Professor Parker asked and a shower of hands across the room went up, Peter’s gaze scanning across the faces of the raised hands as he continued, “Keep your hand up if you’re still a little bit drunk-” his voice cut off as his eyes finally landed on you, his own oh shit face befalling him.

You felt your skin crawl as people lowered their hands and began following his gaze to you. You moved your hand up to your face as you sank down in your seat further. ‘Stop staring. Stop staring. Stop staring!’

8 HOURS EARLIER

“I couldn’t help but see you staring.” He said as he sidled up to you. ‘Holy fuck’ he was gorgeous. Tall, lean, perfectly messy brown hair and the most delicious biceps (not too big) that were flexing under the cuffs of his fitted T-shirt you really just wanted to wrap your fingers around and squeeze. Damn. “Is she okay?” He said turning to your friend.

“Yeah she’s just-“ your roommate started before nudging you and breaking you from your hypnotised gaze on this absolute Adonis of a man. “She thinks you’re really hot!” she shouted over the music to him.”

He raised his eyebrows as he gave a small chuckle, flattered, as you cringed. They both laughed at you. “Do you wanna dance?” he asked as he took your hand.

“Yes, she does!” your friend said, pushing you off your stool. His other hand comes out to steady you as you almost slam into his chest. You blush before turning to give your roommate a death stare.

He flashed one of those charming smiles again before he began to guide you away from her and to the dance floor. His hand doesn’t leave yours as he starts to bop and bounce, easing you both into the music. You slowly relax, smiling as a giddy feeling churns in your stomach, as you begin to bop with him to the music.

The music swells and he gives you a twirl under his arm before he pulls you closer to him. “So have you got a name or am I supposed to refer to you as flower for the rest of the night?”

You frown. “Why Flower?”

“Isn’t that the name of the skunk in Bambi who is all quiet and has those big eyes and blushing cheeks and-”

“Don’t call me Flower.” you quickly say, slightly embarrassed by the way you had gone all goo goo eyed and helpless over him.

“Okay, then what can I call you?”

You hesitate for a second as you think about giving him your real name but what would be the fun in that, especially if this only turned out to be a one night stand. “Trouble.”

He laughs, his head dipping to hide his amusement. “Is that so?” he says from beneath his lashes. “Fine, if that’s how we’re playing it, you can call me Professor Brat Tamer, Professor for short.”

You feel your arousal soak your panties the moment he says it, the words going straight to your core. What have you gotten yourself in for? It’s like he knows too from the way he’s smirking. He turns you, pulling you back into him, his hands resting on your hips as he begins to grind himself against your ass. “Now, are you gonna be a good student?” he coos against your ear only loud enough for you to hear. “Or are you gonna be like your namesake says and cause me a whole lot of trouble?”

He can feel the way you relax your body back against him, your eyes closing as you relish in the feeling his words elicit in you.

You smirk as you look back at him, “I’m sorry Professor, but you may have your work cut out for you.”

An hour and a half later he’s pulling you into his apartment, your back slamming hard against a wall of exposed brick as your mouth latches onto his. Both of you had done so well keeping your hands to yourself the whole way back, but the moment you got through the door it was like a starting pistol had gone off, both of you suddenly in a race for pleasure.

You moan against his mouth as his tongue slips between your teeth. You can taste his final Jack and Coke he had had before you left. Your skin felt like it was burning under his touch.

“Fuck.” You gasp as his mouth is suddenly moving across your jaw and down your neck, his teeth and stubble grazing you slightly in his hunger for you.

“God Trouble, you sound so fucking pretty.” he coos against your chest, his hand moving to paw at your breast, bunching it up to spill over the top of your dress as he leaves wet kisses across the skin.

Your fingers wrap around his messy tresses as you pull his head back up so you can connect your mouth with his again, a small growl escaping his lips at the slight pain. You kiss him messily, both of you breathing heavily before you push him back, allowing you room to drop to your knees on the hardwood floor. Your fingers immediately begin to fight with his belt buckle, the sound of the metal clinking sending arousal straight between your own legs.

“Fuck.” He pants as he looks down at you, his hand reaching to cradle either side of your face as you pull down his jeans and his boxers in one swift pull. “Uh, baby, baby, baby.” he coos as you take his length into your mouth and immediately begin to work your tongue up and down his cock.

His fingers move away from your face, grabbing at the hem of his t-shirt and you watch as he pulls it up and over his head, exposing the rest of his body to you. Fuck he really was gorgeous. “Oh my god.” he cried out when you began to swallow his length down your throat, your nose pressing to his pelvic bone. “Uh,” he said, his head tipping back, “she’s not trouble, she’s fucking perfect.” he says as he drops his head back forward to watch you, his thumb reaching to wipe away a stray tear at the corner of your eye.

You take his length out of your mouth as you gasp for air and he thinks it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever heard. “Come here Trouble.” he says as he takes your face and chin in his hands and lifts you from the floor, pulling your lips back to his as he smashes his mouth into yours.

He begins to kick off his shoes as well as his jeans and boxers that now sit tangled around his ankles as he continues to kiss you, freeing himself so he can lift you up into his arms, your own arms throwing themselves around his neck, as he carries you to his bedroom.

You can’t help but cheekily bite at his lower lip as he stops just before the foot of the bed. “Oh she has some bite does she?” he says against your mouth. Your teeth almost clash together from how close you are as you grin, waiting to see what he’ll do or say next. “Okay,” he says as he pauses a little for dramatic effect, “I can bite back.” he says before throwing you back on the bed.

You let out a small squeal as you're caught by the mattress springs and pillows. You quickly prop yourself up on your elbows so you can see the devilish look on his face as he pulls off your heels before he stalks up the bed towards you. He leans over you, attaching his lips to yours once more, his tongue sliding deftly into your mouth and out again with every kiss until his last, when he uses it to suck your lower lip between his teeth, pulling on it. He releases it just as you’re beginning to feel it bruise, his lips instead attaching to your throat as his hands come up to pull down the top of your dress. He had already clocked that you were sans bra from how low the back of your dress was and is even more grateful now he can immediately latch himself onto your nipples, his tongue lapping at the small sensitive nibs, one and then the other.

You moan under his touch, your eyes falling closed as your head tips back, fingers gripping tightly at the covers beneath you. When he looks up at you, keening under his touch, he thinks it's the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “Look at me baby.” he softly commands and you oblige, your chin pressing to your chest as you gaze straight into those big brown eyes. It’s the sexiest eye contact you’ve ever held. It’s like he’s fucking you with his eyes as his fingers begin to snake their way up your thighs, lifting the bottom of your dress up to your hips so he can pull down your underwear. He takes one feel of them before saying, “Fuck, trouble, these are soaked.”

You can only nod in agreement, as all words seem to have left your brain. ‘Fuck, he’s so fucking hot’ you think, as he kisses his way down your middle, over your dress until he reaches the hem where he can start kissing at your skin. You sigh, your head falling back again at the sensation of his lips kissing across your hips and then down your thighs.

His fingers spread your legs and he gives a small nip to the inside of your thigh and you gasp at the small feeling of pain, that quickly turns to pleasure, as yet another wave of arousal floods between your legs.

“Fuck, baby, you’re dripping.” he says as his finger scoops up the arousal thats begining to drip down your thighs, bringing it up to his mouth. You watch hypnotised as he sucks on his fingers. “Damn, trouble, you tast so fucking good.” he says as he slips his fingers from his mouth. It’s so filthy. He has barely done anything and you’re a fucking goner.

His tongue suddenly crashes between your folds. “FUCK!” you cry out loudly. His fingers trace over your thighs, reaching for your own fingers which you entwine with his. He’s got his eyes closed, savouring every moan, every little gasp he pulls from you.

He can tell you’re getting close from how your cunt begins to grind itself down against his tongue, chasing you’re high, but to allow you to have it would be too easy. He listens closely to your breathing, your moans; one… two… he suddenly moves his mouth away and you want to scream. He playfully nips at the inside of your thigh, almost hard enough to bruise. You really do scream now in frustration. “Told you I could bite.” he says coily as he mumbles against your skin.

He licks another stripe through your folds as if in apology, as if to soothe the sting but his tongue flicks at your sensitive clit before he sucks it hard between his lips and you cry out again. “Mmmm.” he hums against your cunt, “you sound so pretty when you scream like that.”

You want to cry, you are so sensitive and overstimulated but suddenly he’s lapping at your pussy again and you’re melting back into the bed as your muscles begin to relax again with the long slow licks of his tongue.

When you both begin to feel the build of your climax again he doesn’t pull away this time. He lets you have it, your thighs closing around his head, hips bucking off the bed as the wave of pleasure crashes over you. He keeps going, his mouth lapping up everything you’ll give him until you're pulling yourself away from him. Tears well in the corners of your eyes from the over stimulation as you pant and whine and rub your thighs together, desperate for the feeling to dissipate. He grabs at your ankles, holding you still as you flop back into the pillows at the top of the bed.

“So good for me Trouble, you’re doing so good.” he says as he crawls up the bed to kiss you.

Although he’s wiped at his mouth, the taste of you still remains and you lick it off every part of his mouth you can reach as he settles himself between your legs.

His hands slide up your thighs before they’re grabbing ahold of your waist and suddenly he’s flipping you, his head crashing into the pillows as you straddle his hips. Your lips race to chase his as you continue to pant breathlessly into his mouth, another flood of arousal soaking between your legs.

His fingers reach for the bottom of your dress, lifting it up and off your head, leaving you finally, completely naked before him. “Fuck, trouble,” he moans as his eyes drink you in, “has anyone told you how absolutely fucking perfect you are.” You giggle and blush as you lean down to kiss him. “No. No. Look at me.” he says as he takes your head in his hands and moves you away from him so you have to look at him. He’s giving you that look with his eyes again as he holds your face in place, not allowing you to break eye contact with him for one single moment as he begins to grind his hips up against you, his rock hard cock grinding against your clit. Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp. “So fucking perfect.” he repeats. “Now tell me, trouble, how do you want me to fuck you?” You can’t think, your eyes closing as you try to focus your thoughts as his skin drags across your clit teasingly. He gently taps your cheek with his fingers, forcing you to open your eyes and look at him. “Eyes on me Trouble,” he says, “find your words, tell me how you want me to fuck you.”

You shake your head as you close your eyes again, really unable to think. “Options.” you say breathlessly, your eyes flying open, before he can punish you for breaking eye contact again. “Give me options.”

“Okay.” he concedes with a small nod and a smile. “Okay, pretty girl.” he repeats again soothingly as he pulls you back down closer to him, his lips kissing you sweetly and encouragingly, aware he’s over stimulating your brain. “I can fuck you like this.” he says as he looks into your eyes. His hand slowly trails down to wrap around your throat, his other hand still cradling the back of your head as he flips you again. “Or I can fuck you like this.” he says as he continues to slowly grind himself against your sex. “Or,” he says as he lowers his head down to the crook of your neck, breathing you in deeply as he speaks directly into your ear, “I can flip you over and fuck you from behind.” You sigh as his words go straight to your core again.

“The last one.” you say breathlessly as your eyes close.

“MMM.” he hums into your ear as his teeth nip at your jaw, satisfied with your response. He pushes you back into the bed slightly as he lifts himself onto his knees, his hands moving away from your face and you watch him eagerly as you await his next move. He leans over to the bedside table, reaching into the draw for a condom, lazily tugging at his length with one hand whilst he uses his teeth and the other hand to open it up. You’re almost starring as he’s rolling it down the length of his cock, fully taking in his erect size. He smirks when he looks up to notice you nibbling at your lower lip.

“Come here, trouble.” he says before he’s flipping you over, your head finding a comfortable position on the pillow as he lifts your ass into the air.

He slides his fingers down your opening before placing two fingers slowly inside you, stretching you out and you let out another breathy moan at the feeling. He pumps them in and out of you a couple more times before he slowly lets them slide out of you, his fingertips dragging agonisingly across your clit before he uses them to pump his cock again a couple times, shifting himself into position.

His fingers grip tightly onto your hips as he lines himself up and slowly pushes himself inside you, your back arching with the stretch, head shifting as you let out another moan of satisfaction into the pillow. “Mmm, let me hear you baby.” he says as his hand removes itself from your hip to reach for the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he turns your head back towards him.

“Fuck.” you hiccup as he pulls himself out little by little before he’s slamming his hips forward against your ass, pushing himself in even deeper.

“Fuck, trouble. So fucking tight for me.”

You lose all ability to speak as he begins fucking into you, slowly building his pace until he’s fucking into you at a wicked speed. You want to scream again, your face screwing up in ecstasy as his cock continuously hits that spot inside you that makes you want to explode. His other hand reaches around for your throat, pulling you back up as he leans over you so he can stick his tongue back into your mouth. It adjusts his angle somehow, making the feeling in your cunt even more intense. Your mouth falls open as he holds it there, you’re panting and moaning into his mouth. “Look at me.” he encourages as his thumb rubs soothingly across your jaw. You can’t help but obliged.

It’s too much. It’s the hottest, most filthiest sex you’ve ever had. You know you’ll never be the same again. Nothing, no one, will ever compare to this. “Please, please, please.” you find yourself repeating as your eyes close again. You’re so close and he knows it because your cunt is constricting like a vice around his cock.

He moves his hand down to circle at your clit between your legs. “Come on, trouble, give it to me,” he coaches, “Fuck, baby!” he snarls against your mouth as he smashes his lips to yours again, pulling at your lips bruisingly.

You pull your mouth away from him, wailing, gasping for breath as your body convulses around him, his pace only slowing slightly to help you ride out your climax. “So good.” he coos, “My trouble, so fucking good for me. Atta girl.”

His pace is steady as he feels you begin to relax again but you’re still so stimulated. You’re surprised he’s still going. “Your turn.” you say to him breathlessly and he smiles. When he doesn’t say anything you decide to push your luck. “How do you want to fuck me?” you coo, now you’re the one who’s eye fucking him.

You watch as he closes his eyes, head falling back. He chuckles then, something low and devious. He suddenly pulls out of you. It makes you feel so empty. You’re about to whine but then he’s flipping you over and pulling your legs together and then over his shoulder as he bends you in half. He lines himself back up with your entrance and slips back in with ease and you gasp as he bottoms out, the position making him hit that devastating spot inside you instantly. He leans all the way over so he can kiss you, his mouth swallowing every moan, gasp and breath that leaves your mouth as he pounds down into you like something fierce.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” you whine as the sensitivity grows too much. His pelvis is slamming against your clit with every thrust. Now you really are crying, your eyes rolling back in your head as you feel yourself clamping down on his cock again.

“Oh my god, baby.” he says. “You’re so fucking wet. So fucking good. Such a good fucking girl.”

It’s a guttural wail you let loose into the room as you cum and his head dips down as he buries himself in the crook of your neck, his thrusts growing even faster as he chases his high. “Stay with me, Trouble,” he says, trying to ground you. He lifts his head, hand reaching for your face, forcing you to look at him. “Just a little bit longer, baby, just a little bit-” but he can’t finish his words. He’s so fucking close. One pump, two- he suddenly stills as he buries himself inside you, his forehead pressing into yours grounding you both as he pumps his seed into the condom inside you. You whine at the feeling of his cock pulsating against the still extremely sensitive spot inside you.

“You did so good.” His voice reassures as he strokes soothingly across your cheek forcing you to look at him as you breathe deeply and heavily in your come down. “So fucking good.” he says as he kisses your forehead before slipping out of you.

With his body no longer crowding you you fully relax back into his sheets, your eyes closing as you try to regulate. You think you might even pass out. You think you may even have blacked out for a second, but you know you haven’t as your eyes fly open and your body jumps at the feeling of a cool damp cloth between your legs.

He watches you content as you suddenly relax once more, the cool washcloth doing wonders to soothe the hot swollen feeling between your legs as he cleans you up. You definitely black out then, completely exhausted.

You are disturbed again a few minutes later, a soft reassuring hand brushing up your legs. “Here.” his voice says softly as he sits on the side of the bed next to you, waiting for you to open your eyes and look at him so he can pass you a glass of water.

The cold liquid does wonders to help regulate your temperature and you can’t help but stare at him again in wonder as he sits before you in a pair of flannel pyjama bottoms. He leans over you, kissing the top of your head, breaking you from your sex induced stupor.

“You can stay if you want.” You nod your head, you have no energy to move yet.

“Okay.” he says with a soft smile as he takes the now mostly empty glass from your fingers. “I’m gonna go get you another one of these,” he says motioning to the glass now in his hands, “you go to the toilet, there’s a spare toothbrush under the sink, get yourself ready for bed and when you get back we can cuddle.”

You still have no words, just dociley nod and agree. You wobble slightly as you try to stand, blood rushing back to your limbs and his hand reaches out to steady you. “I’ve got it, I’ve got it.” You say as you sway slightly and wave him away.

He just chuckles. “Whatever you say, trouble.”

You crawl into bed beside him 5 minutes later, tucking yourself into his side as his arm wraps around you. “You really are Professor Brat Tamer huh?” you joke as you nestle into his bare chest.

“And don’t you know it.” he smiles, pulling you tighter into his side so he can place a kiss to the top of your head.

You wake just after 6am, sneaking from his bed with a smile on your face as you pick up your clothes before doing the walk of shame back to your student halls. The sun is just coming up and the leaves are just starting to change, you can still feel the alcohol in your system as well as the after effects of your orgasms and you know, although you’re tired, today is gonna be a great first day… or was it?

________________________-

@tarzinnia @withahappyrefrain @xenasolos @sincericida

Is this a one off? I don't know. Is there a lot of room for this to turn into a collection of shorts... yeah, maybe.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #andrew!peter parker #professor!Peter Parker x reader #andrew!peter x reader #Andrew Peter imagine #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker #Peter Parker smut #professor!au #spiderman #tasm peter parker imagine #tasm!peter #andrew garfield peter parker #reader insert #smut #this is so self indulgent #Peter Parker x female reader

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bicth-and-in-that-order · 1 year ago

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Rambling thoughts of various Yuri manga I’ve read

1. Kase-San and Yamada (Morning Glories sequel series) by Hiromi Takashima

notice how Kase’s name is first, which is representative of her being the main one to cause problems in their relationship

If you asked me what my favorite yuri manga was like 2-3 years ago, I’d say Morning Glories and Kase San everytime. Every avid yuri fan has either read or watched Morning Glories because, at the time in 2010, it was groundbreaking, and I stand by the fact that the original series still holds up to this day. It was cute, sweet, wholesome and only had a few obligatory “we love each other but we’re giRLs😳😳😳” moments. Most of all it wasn’t a pseudo-incest-straight-male-porn-pandering-garbage-fest—also known as “Citrus”. Was it cliche at times? Yes, but they all are lol. Did they add to the dumb ass “blonde femme and dark hair masc” trope? Also yes. But it was adorable and it was my first ever yuri so it holds a special place in my heart.

And it SEEMED like it was only going to get better in Kase San and Yamada, the sequel. The girls would be heading to college and the story could theoretically focus on more mature topics while they navigate their new relationship. Keyword: theoretically. Unfortunately, instead of exploring interesting relationship dynamics and storylines, the plot of each story arc boils down to: Kase is insecure because a man breathed next to Yamada or Kase is being completely insensitive to Yamada’s feelings…again…—> ✨miscommunication drama ✨—>big over dramatic apology scene—>boring makeup sex or other romantic gesture.

Literally that’s how every single plotline goes. Kase is so goddamn dumb and insensitive to Yamada’s feelings and Yamada’s a complete doormat who can only stay mad for 0.2 seconds before getting pussy whipped like a spineless ass bitch. And for all that Yamada sacrifices for Kase; her hometown, her dreams, her apartment, what does she get in return from Kase? Oh that’s right; bare minimum romantic gestures and a neglectful partner who can’t even call her “girlfriend” in front of others:

Like I thought we were over this shit. It’s been THREE years of them together, a whole anime production, and god knows how many irl years and we’re going back to “we love each other but we’re giRLs😳😳😳” WHY???

And then Kase later goes onto bet her entire three year relationship over the ugly bitch in the next panel, so now I’m questioning whether or not Kase even loves Yamada with the amount of bullshit she’s put her through. Which COULD be an interesting plot point, but Kase never gets any consequences for her actions and the creator genuinely thinks this is romantic and full of tension so I’m 10000% positive that this arc, just like all the others, will end with some makeup sex and we’ll be right back to step 1. Sigh.

2. Tamen De Gushi by Tan Jiu

Tamen De Gushi’s problems are interesting but it’s NOT because of the Chinese government💀

So today’s dark haired masc and blonde femme of the day are Sun Jing and Qiu Tong, respectively. Their personalities aren’t anything to write home about, if you read ANY high school yuri romance, then you know exactly what happens in this story beat for beat. But, BUT, however derivative it is, I find their dynamic very endearing and down to earth. Idk maybe it’s just the translation, but other yuri stories often have this very inauthentic “anime” vibe to it. Which is to say the characters act very cutesy, overly dramatic, and have this stilted, caricature-esque acting of how the creator thinks teenage girls are supposed act.

However, I’m happy to report that Tamen De Gushi is a breath of fresh air in this regard. The characters and interactions they have are grounded and feel organic, which makes them feel like real people, not aliens pretending to be human. This really elevates the humor in turn, oh did I mention that Tamen De Gushi is super funny? Because Tamen De Gushi is super funny, here’s one of my favorite panels and it’s all because of Sun Jing’s goofy ahh expression:

Like go girl give us nothing

If you’re wondering why I haven’t spoke much about the actual romantic relationship between the girls, that’s because there isn’t one💀 Which, okay, that’s not a fair assessment, they have a ton of romantic tension and they flirt a lot. It’s certainly building to a great romantic relationship, but it can’t quite get there due to legal/political reasons sadly. 😔

Edit: I received new information in regards to what happened to Tamen De Gushi. While I reached my limit for posting pictures, I want to point out that the Chinese government had nothing to do with Tamen De Gushi getting censored, rather it was a dispute between the author and the publishing company. The prior information I received was false and I prob should’ve looked it up more so sorrrry. The fact still remains though that after their big lesbian kiss towards the middle of the story and maybe a few other moments, that’s just kind of it. You’re stuck waiting for something to develop, but nothing really happens. The comic very quickly becomes a collection of slice of life segments and cute pictures that imply a relationship between the girls, but not really ;) ;). Now things are just kind of left in purgatory for the foreseeable future and, well, that’s Tamen De Gushi y’all.

Compared to Kase San and Yamada, the characters were much better, which is not saying much, but without an actual romantic storyline, there’s just not a lot for me to comment on to be honest. It’s really pretty though, look at this art :

3. Beauty and the Beast Girl by Neji

my personal favorite and the BEST yuri I ever read

So next on the list is Beauty and the Beast Girl (I’m going to abbreviate to BatBG from here on) , which I already spoiled my feelings on the matter so this will basically be me gushing about this story for several paragraphs straight, enjoy.

Contrary to what the title suggests, it really has nothing to do with Beauty and the Beast’s story except in name. The main girls are Lily Blind, who is actually fucking blind 💀 and Heath the monster girl. Already I’m happy because instead of blonde femme and dark hair butch, it’s blonde femme and of-course-you-have-purple-hair-and-pronouns masc. Lol, all jokes aside, Lily, unlike her blonde femme counterparts is quite assertive and voices her opinions all the time. In fact, she’s the one who pushes Heath to be more open and communicate with her rather than the other way around. This is, in part, due to the story BatBG is trying to tell. I say BatBG is in name only to Beauty and the Beast because Lily isn’t trying to find the “beauty” within Heath or learning to love a beast or whatever, she’s fine just the way she is and her love for Heath is unconditional. Plus the only thing beastly about Heath is her appearance…which I’ll harp on later, but her behavior is in no way different from a regular human except in very rare, specific moments.

At its heart, BatBG is a story about forgiveness (the creator literally says as much) , but it’s also about the cycle of violence that results from being outcasted and deprived of love. BatBG is set in a world of humans and monsters, where the monsters are outcasted and either have to stay away from human society like Heath or assimilate themselves by hiding away their monster like traits, which is a really queer narrative on top of an already queer story. I don’t want to go into too much spoilers, but sometime before the beginning of the story, Heath in-directly hurts Lily before they ever meet. However, it’s not about Lily needing to forgive Heath, or trying to get over the pain she inflicted upon her, rather its Heath learning to forgive herself and in effect, learning to love herself as much as Lily loves her.

Another big aspect of BatBG is disabilities, Lily Blind is in fact Blind lol and while there are times she struggles with her blindness, she never views her disability as something she needs to be ashamed of and never, ever, blames Heath for it or holds it against her unlike what many, many, many, many other stories end up doing. Her blindness isn’t treated like a super power either, it’s a legitimate disability. She just accepts that it’s a part of her and goes onto say that if not for her blindness, she would’ve never met the love of her life, which I found to be an incredibly profound thing to say.

Now that I’ve gotten this far, I suppose I can add a bit of a disclaimer. So BatBG is waaaaay more explicit about the physical affection between the girls than in any of the previous stories I talked about. Heath and Lily are constantly kissing on, hugging, and almost always flirting with each other, and make no mistake, these girls do be fucking. The sex scenes are never perverted or gross, but genuinely super sweet and romantic, which makes it way hotter imo (huh imagine that🤔). And aside from being hot, it also serves a purpose! Lily’s pretty damn horny underneath all her nice girl antics and while it’s not a major part of her character, it does give a slight edge to her personality and, most importantly, balances out the dynamic between Heath and Lily. It would’ve been very easy to fall into that boring trope where Heath is aggressively horny and Lily is the submissive blind girl, but by making Lily be the one to initiate the sexual encounters, it not only compliments Heath’s more reserved nature, but breaks the stereotype that people with disabilities are pure precious being who couldn’t possibly have sex, which is ableist af btw. Many people think the existence of any sex scenes at all is superfluous, but in BatBG, it truly elevates the story, the characters, and the romance in ways that wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying without it.

Now, with as much praise I gave BatBG, there is one criticism I have, but it’s a quibble really, and it can be explained in a single image:

There is a dissonance between the story and the art, the story says: “Heath is a big, ugly scary monster”

The art says:

And like yes, it can be argued that Heath is simply regurgitating the things bigoted people have said to her, but at no point in the story is this ever challenged or brought up in any meaningful way. Lily is blind so she doesn’t know what the hell she looks like and the other characters aren’t any help either. It’s not a big deal or anything, it just would’ve elevated the story if Heath was actually kinda ugly/more monstrous and not incredibly beautiful because right now it’s giving skinny girl who calls herself fat all the time, and it’s like, babe, who tf are you fooling? 😭

Other than that, BatBG is incredibly profound despite its premise being so deceptively simple and I love it to pieces so …yeah! READ IT.

4. Superwomen in Love! Honey Trap and Rapid Rabbit by sometime

Well, at least there are no blondes

So imma just abbreviate to SiL btw

Alright, let’s get started. The premise is that a villainess falls for the super hero girl and then that plotline is dropped in about 16 pages. I’m not even joking, the villainess falls for the hero, loses her job as a villain and then joins the hero all in one chapter. The REAL plot is actually about a council of evil alien-humans who want to destroy humanity because of generic super villain reason #434: the leader of the aliens is sad and misunderstood :( I’m not even going to lie, I had 0 interest in “X” (the generic ass name of the main villain) and her band of useless lesbians. They did literally nothing in the story except be a nuisance and contribute to X’s incel breakdown at the end. Their inclusion actively made SiL worse because the story has this weird tonal problem where in one breath the villains are portrayed as complete jokes and then you turn the page and now they’re shooting children like girl what💀 And these useless lesbians hog sooooo much of SiL that desperately needed to be given to Honey trap and Hayate to develop their relationship.

When the story DOES actually focus on Honey Trap and Hayate, it’s pretty good, even cute at times, there just wasn’t enough time given to them to flesh their relationship out. As it stands, Honey Trap and Hayate don’t have much of a dynamic, or personality for that matter. Honey Trap’s main gimmick is that she’s extremely horny for Hayate and delulu:

Aside from that, she’s a great value version of Heath, but even a watered down character is better than, like, nothing. All I really know about Hayate is that she’s nice, heroic, likes wearing tacky clothes and ….that’s it. She loves Honey Trap because…………they fought together a few times so why not🤷‍♀️ I’d say at least that’s better than Tamen De Gushi, but actually it’s not because these grown ass women don’t even kiss , all we get is a love confession and their gremlin love child and that’s supposed to be satisfying I guess.

And the worst part is that SiL has the audacity to pretend the romance was something that it clearly wasn’t:

Girl…yall were “””enemies””” for 10 panels.

Now, it’s stated they have been rivals for a while, but I guess Honey Trap forgot all of that because the moment she sees Hayate’s face, my good sis is pussy whipped for life. And that’s in spite of apparently being the evilest one out of the evil group because Honey Trap has no grudge or baggage toward Hayate. She immediately turns good with no issues and Hayate is only distrustful of Honey Trap for 1 or 2 speech bubbles and then she’s not. Anything else that happened was off screen, which means it didn’t happen. Ironically, the very next entry on this list will do a MUCH better job at an ex-villain love story, but for SiL, there’s just not much going on.

Another reading of this story is to call it a “parody” but…no, it isn’t. SiL isn’t a comedy, yes there are comedic moments that poke fun of the genre, but the rest of the story genuinely wants you to take it seriously. Except it can’t. X and her league of dimwits are boring as piss and they oscillate between Saturday morning cartoon villains and child murderers seemingly on a whim. So I can neither be endeared to them nor take them as a serious threat. Honey Trap and Hayate are there, but I lament on all the potential lost from what could’ve been an amazing relationship.

5. Yamujiburo/Kianamaiart’s Hanamusa webcomic

This one is kind of cheating, but I also don’t care let me talk about hot MILFs💀

So the final entry on this list is a webcomic series by one of my fave artist: kianamaiart! And it’s right here on tumblr so check it out!

I stumbled upon this webcomic a few weeks ago, fell in love and now I want to talk about it. This yuri pair thankfully has no blonde femme in sight and instead features two popular Pokémon characters: Jessie from Team Rocket and Delia Ketchum, Ash Ketchum’s mom. What I love about this ship and the world Kiana creates around them is that it’s a very unconventional pairing. There’s just not many romances where a single mom falls in love with an ex gang member and the best part is, Delia being a mom is a big part of her character and she doesn’t ignore Ash in favor of her new relationship with Jessie. She has time for both and doesn’t prioritize one over the other, which many ppl fail to do even irl so good on you Delia!

Now, as for the romance it self, Jessie and Delia are a unique pair. Jessie’s overconfident, brash, drama queen personality doesn’t automatically put her in the “dominant” role and Delia’s sweet, motherly personality doesn’t automatically put her in the “submissive” role. Their dynamic in the webcomic actually plays out in the reverse, Jessie is the one who gets easily flustered and Delia’s…intense, to say the least:

(But Tbf if Delia looked at me like that I’d be at her beck and call too💀)

This subversion of these tropes creates a fun dynamic for the couple and it’s super adorable to see how their energies bounce off each other in each new situation Kiana puts them in. I also love how both Jessie and Delia inspire each other to live out their dreams and they become better versions of themselves by being together.

And one last thing, I don’t have any smart commentary to go along with this, I just really like this drawing of Jessie:

no thoughts, head empty

Final Thoughts

Soooo yeah, that’s the end of my dissertation on yuri comics. I know I ended up dragging a lot of popular yuri, but it wasn’t my intention to make you guys hate any of things I talked about. These were just my thoughts as an avid yuri fan, so let me know your thoughts as well, especially if you read any of the yuri I talked about. And even though I’m super picky about the type of yuri I read, I’d still love to hear any recommendations. Who knows, it might dethrone the undefeated champ that is Beauty and the Beast Girl.

#Yuri #yuri manga #long post #Anime #manga #lgbt #lgbtq+#wlw post #kase san and morning glories #tamen de gushi #beauty and the beast girl #superwomen in love #hanamusashipping

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mononijikayu · 2 months ago

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chapter (3) — omg

GENRE: alternate universe - actors/celeb au!

WARNING/S: not safe for work (nsfw), r-18 and above, actors/singers au!, romance, fluff, minor angst, slow burn, humour, slice of life, will they won't they, light-hearted, flirting, playful, possessiveness, teasing, explicit content, possible, kissing, sexual content, innuendos, drama, feels, hurt/comfort, falling in love, love, happy ending, actor/singer! sukuna, actress/celeb! reader;

WORD COUNT: 3.3k words.

NOTE: i really think that if this were to happen irl, everyone would just really really lose their minds like??? genuinely. i really think that people would be entertained and also not. these are the in between of the kinktober event, which starts october 4th (6 pm pst, 9 am for ph time and 4 pm uk time) - the first one is also a sukuna one too!!! please enjoy them as they come out!!! thank you for your continued love!!! i love you all <3

TAGLIST: @kunasthiast, @midnight-138, @v3nd3ttal3on, @r0ckst4rjk, @theshxaverse, @cheescakebroom, @kariatenoh ;

masterlist

hey lover! series

IT WAS THAT SIX MONTH PERIOD THAT STUNNED THE WORLD. The internet was already on the verge of a meltdown the day it was announced that you and Sukuna were going to star opposite of each other in a new romantic drama film.

The plot? A searing, emotionally intense story about a husband and wife’s failing marriage. That alone was enough to send fans into a frenzy. The idea of you two, already known for your incredible chemistry, playing lovers on the brink of collapse was the stuff of internet gold.

Speculation ran wild for months. There were endless fan theories about how much tension would be in the movie, the inevitable blow-out arguments, and the long, charged stares across dimly lit rooms.

But the moment the real rumor started spreading—that the on-screen couple would have a full-blown romance scene—it was like gasoline was thrown on the fire.

Twitter threads were filled with fans practically holding their breath, trying to figure out if this was just clickbait or if the movie would actually go there. For weeks, fans analyzed trailers and snippets of scenes, slowing down moments to see if they could spot any clues.

There was talk of “the tension is unreal” or “there’s NO WAY they’ll pull off that scene without killing us all”. But despite the rampant speculation, nothing could have prepared them for what came next.

Then, the movie premiered. And that’s when everything exploded.

One fan was the first to drop the bombshell:

SukusukuOne Tweet: “WAIT. WHAT? A SEX SCENE BETWEEN THEM?!?!”

That single tweet ignited a wildfire across every social media platform. It took only minutes before reactions flooded in from every corner of the internet. It was as if the world collectively gasped and lost its ability to function.

Fans who had managed to watch the early screenings immediately went into panic mode, sending everyone else into spirals of anticipation.

Y/N’sWorldHQ: “I KNEW IT. I FREAKING KNEW IT BUT I WASN’T READY. NOT LIKE THIS.”

SukuY/NHQ: “BESTIES, THIS IS NOT A DRILL. THIS IS SO FUCKING REAL!!!

Y/N-Rin: We asked for tension and got THIS. I CAN’T BREATHE.”

SukunaSource: “Forget the plot—I need a minute to process what I just saw. That scene? UNREAL.”

Y/N–SUKUONE “Y’all. It’s not just a scene. It’s THE scene. They went THERE and I’m not okay.”

For Y/N: "I WAS NOT READY FOR THIS. SOMEONE HOLD ME."

Suku–king: “SUKUNA. SEX SCENE. I REPEAT: SUKUNA. SEX SCENE. WITH Y/N?!? breathes into a paper bag"

Y/N–Hiromi: "Oh, y’all are just gonna drop this bomb and leave us to SCREAM?"

Pop Star Kuna: "No, because how am I supposed to sit through that scene like a normal person? I’ll be watching through my fingers."

Y/N Movie Era: "WHO THOUGHT THIS WAS OKAY TO GIVE US THIS LEVEL OF ENERGY IN A MOVIE?!? MY WIG IS IN ANOTHER GALAXY.”

GIFs of you and Sukuna in slow, sultry close-ups began circulating within minutes. The intensity, the way the scene built from raw emotion to passionate release, left fans utterly destroyed.

People were making reaction videos, pausing the exact second the scene got too hot to handle and screaming at their screens. Thirst tweets, memes, and GIFs of fans collapsing on their couches like they’d just run a marathon became the norm.

HiroKuna: “I’M YELLING. THEY REALLY DID THAT. NO ONE TOLD ME I NEEDED OXYGEN.”

KukuNa7: “I knew it would be good, but I didn’t think it would be THIS. I feel like I need a cigarette and I don’t even smoke.”

Hiromimimi: “The way they LOOK at each other?! The rawness of it all?! This scene is pure FIRE.”

As if the internet wasn’t on fire enough, you and Sukuna decided to fuel the flames even further. You hopped on Twitter, casually posting a behind-the-scenes video of the two of you messing around in between takes.

In the shot, Sukuna was leaning back on the bed, one arm draped over his eyes, mid-laugh, while you sat there making faces at the as you got your retouching make up done. You tell him to stop, but you just both kept laughing and got scolded by the make up artist. Sukuna then calls you beautiful, and you blush.

Y/NTheOne: “When the ‘passionate scene’ turns into a blooper reel. 😂 No one tells you how hard it is to keep a straight face. #BTS #MovieMagic”

The reaction? Absolute chaos. Fans didn’t know whether to scream, cry, or laugh.

sukurin: “They’re just gonna post this like it’s no big deal??? WDYM SUKUNA CALLS HER BEAUTIFUL AND SHE JUST BLUSHES??? BRO???”

y/n’s princess: “OKAY BUT I LOVE HOW CASUAL THEY ARE ABOUT THIS. HELP.”

sukuy/n’s love child: “I’M NEVER GETTING OVER THIS. NEVER.”

kunatuna: “The fact that they’re laughing like this in between scenes, and we’re out here struggling to breathe??”

Not to be outdone, Sukuna joined in on the fun a few hours later by posting his own video on his Instagram story. The clip showed you two rehearsing the confrontation scene between the spouses and you were screaming at the top of your lungs before he made a face and you immediately break, falling into his arms and suddenly laughing as hard as humanly possible. Sukuna wrapped his arms around you too, hugging you back.

ItsRyoSuku: “Professional actors, by the way. 😂 #HappyTogether”

Cue more pandemonium:

JJK (Taylor’s Version): “NOT THEM POSTING BTS FOOTAGE LIKE THIS. STOPPPP.”

kukuna1989: “I can’t breathe. How are they this funny and attractive at the same time???”

y/n on the ring: “This video is sending me. They’re out here clowning and we’re suffering.”

y/nkunaaaaaahhhhhhhh: “I’m trying to focus on their acting, but instead I’m watching them roast themselves. THIS IS GOLD.”

kukukufukukukuku: WHAT DO YOU MEAN HAPPY TOGETHER??? RYOMEN SUKUNA????

Fan TikToks:

Y/N–Na–Na–Na: (in a shaky voice) “So, I just watched the scene… and honestly, I don’t think I’m okay. No spoilers, but if you think you can handle it—YOU CAN’T.” Cue someone throwing a pillow at the camera.

SukuPop: "There’s thirst traps, and then there’s THIS MOVIE. HOW DID WE GET HERE?"

And as if that wasn’t enough, a massive fan thread started trending on Twitter titled:

"Are They Dating or Just TOO Good at Acting?"

Enter you and Sukuna again, ready to add more and more fuel to the fire.

You once more jumped on the bandwagon with another cheeky Twitter post, sharing a behind-the-scenes photo of you both between takes. This was the alternative extension that was cut from the film — one which the director really liked. But it just didn’t make the final editing cut.

Still, the shot was perfect: Ryomen Sukuna, half-dressed from the scene, lying on the bed resting his head against your shoulder, laughing about something you said. You? Half covered in the blankets. You were looking down at him, also laughing as you were in the middle of speaking, holding onto a pillow for dear life, your hair tousled from filming.

Y/NTheOne: “Sukuna tried to hold it for this shot. But I wished this made it too! 😂 #BTS #MovieMagic"

The internet? Instantly set ablaze. ONCE AGAIN.

HiromiRyomenCentral: "OKAY BUT YOU CAN’T JUST DROP THIS AND NOT GIVE US MORE!"

KingofCursesStan: "They’re out here laughing, and I’m out here crying. MAKE IT MAKE SENSE."

Y/NStan: "Not them acting all cute and casual when we’re out here clutching our pearls. I CAN’T."

Then, of course, Ryomen Sukuna couldn’t lose here—of course, in classic Sukuna fashion.

He posted a behind-the-scenes video on Instagram of you both rehearsing the scene. But instead of being sexy and intense, it was pure comedy. The two of you were dramatically exaggerating every move, making ridiculous faces at each other.

You were both exhausted, but you both wanted to wake each other up. So, it came to this — both of you losing your minds to make everything as funny as possible. At one point, Sukuna dramatically threw himself back on the bed, rolling his eyes in a mock-swoon while you burst into giggles so uncontrollable that you doubled over.

ItsRyoSuku: “Multiverse of Madness 😂 #ItsAComedyActually"

Fans were once more losing their minds in the comments:

RyoHQ: “NOT SUKUNA TURNING THIS INTO A COMEDY SKETCH?! I CAN’T BREATHE.”

SukuRy: "I’m gonna need 48 hours to recover from the whiplash between the actual scene and THIS."

SukuStar: "Please tell me the DVD has a blooper reel. I BEG YOU."

StarStarKuna: "Y’all are just CLOWNING at this point, meanwhile I’m struggling to form a coherent thought after seeing that scene.”

The memes were iconic. Some were based on popular crying reaction GIFs, while others used dramatic slow-motion moments to parody the sheer intensity of the scene. One particularly viral meme had Sukuna’s character looking down at you in the scene with the caption: “When your favorite ship finally goes canon and it’s STEAMY AF.”

Soon, clips from the movie were being re-edited with dramatic soundtracks, making the moment between your characters feel even more cinematic, even more romantic. Someone even edited the entire scene to Celine Dion’s “It’s All Coming Back to Me Now”, and the internet practically screamed.

You and Sukuna couldn’t help but keep the fun going. A few hours later, you responded to one of the fan edits with a quote-tweet, saying:

Y/NTheOne: “Honestly, this edit is better than the actual movie. 😆”

Sukuna, naturally, followed up with a comment that sent everyone into a tailspin:

ItsRyoSuku: “Still waiting on our Grammy for ‘Best Chemistry On-Screen.’ 😏”

The internet was absolutely living for it. Fans were quick to point out every tiny behind-the-scenes moment, analyzing the body language, the laughter, and of course, the constant playful teasing between you two. Some fans even swore up and down that they knew you two had undeniable off-screen chemistry, and this was just proof.

MimiHiro67 Posted: "Look at the way he looks at her like that. I’m telling you, IT’S NOT JUST ACTING."

Kuku/Y/N Replied: "The flirting during the bloopers?? HELLO?! WE’RE SEEING IT."

HiroKunaFT Replied: "They’re out here, trolling us, but I KNOW they’re secretly dating. THEY HAVE TO BE."

Before you knew it, fan art, memes, and theories flooded every corner of the internet. There were edits of you and Sukuna as modern-day star-crossed lovers, wedding fanfics, and even whole video compilations of you two joking and messing around during interviews.

But perhaps the most hilarious reaction came from one particular fan who summed it up perfectly in a single tweet:

Y/NKunaSource: “Let’s be real. We’re all just happy to live in a world where they exist and can mess with us like this. Bless.”

By the end of the week, the internet was a beautiful mix of chaos, laughter, and way too many thirst traps inspired by that one scene. You and Sukuna continued to play along with the fans, leaning into the fun and teasing just enough to keep everyone guessing—and loving every second of it.

The chaos continued to escalate in the following days, with the internet running wild over every new detail, theory, and behind-the-scenes snippet about the two of you and your relationship. Fans were relentless, and you and Sukuna? You weren’t about to let things calm down just yet. If anything, you leaned into the frenzy, becoming the ultimate internet trolls.

It started innocently enough. You posted a cute boomerang of the two of you at a cast dinner, clinking glasses and flashing cheeky grins at the camera. You looked stunning resting against Sukuna’s chair. Harmless, right? Not according to the fanbase.

Y/NTheOne: “Cheers to being the internet’s favorite scandal 😜🍸#StillNotDating #OrAreWe?”

That was enough to send your followers spiraling into madness again. Fans combed through the boomerang as if it held secret, hidden messages. Someone even analyzed Sukuna’s scarlet eye contact in slow motion, trying to decipher what it all meant.

Sukuna’sHuh!?: “THE CHEMISTRY. I CAN’T. They’re definitely dating.”

YoHiroKuna: “Every time they say they’re ‘not dating,’ I lose five years off my life from the lies. 😂”

Kukukukuna: “Why are they like this?! Just admit it already!”

Veteran Actor Ryomen Sukuna, never one to miss out on the fun, upped the ante. He soon after posted a selfie of the two of you on set, both of you in full costume, right before filming a scene. The twist? You were sitting in his lap, giggling as he gave the camera a devilish smirk. The caption?

ItsRyoSuku: “Just another day at work with my favorite co-star, my baby doll 👀 #WeLiveForMethodActing #OrDoWe"

The comment section exploded:

SukuDw: "EXCUSE ME, SIR??? SITTING IN HIS LAP?!?"

Y/N’sbabygirl: “Method acting? Is that what we’re calling this now?? LMAO”

RyoRyoYoBoat: "My mind can’t handle this level of chaos. 😳"

Then came the real kicker. In the start of the promo junket, there was an interview shot to promote the movie. And the host, unable to resist, asked you both about that scene again. The moment the question was out there, Sukuna leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, eyes sparkling with mischief.

The host clears his throat. “So, everyone’s talking about that… intimate scene between you two. How did you prepare for it?”

Without missing a beat, Sukuna deadpanned, “Oh, we didn’t prepare at all. We just winged it. All natural chemistry. It’s just like that between me and my doll, right here.” He shot you a wink, making you snort with laughter.

You, trying to play it cool but clearly failing, added, “Honestly, I think the hardest part was not laughing through the whole thing. I mean, darling, we’re professionals, but…”

Sukuna cut in, “But when you’re this close with someone…” He leaned toward you, smirking, “… things just come naturally.”

The internet immediately combusted. Clips of the interview spread like wildfire, with fans collectively losing their minds. The phrase “all natural chemistry” trended on Twitter for hours.

JJK4HiroKuna: “’Natural chemistry’ MY HEART IS DONE.”

HiroKunaHiroKuna: "He WINKED?! IS HE TRYING TO KILL US?!"

OneY/NKunaNation: “We all just agreed they’re married at this point, right?”

Y/N–Y/NHQ: I bet the bed chem is also natural, huh?

Memes flooded every platform. One fan made a video edit of you and Sukuna’s most flirtatious moments, set to some dramatic, romantic soundtrack. The edit quickly went viral, with even more fans joining the speculation train. Soon, someone added to the thread a GIF of Sukuna winking from another project, captioning it with, “When he knows EXACTLY what he’s doing.”

The internet was already hanging by a thread after months of anticipation, memes, and wild speculation, but that night—that night—Sukuna and you delivered the ultimate bombshell that no one saw coming.

It was the end of the movie's promotional tour, and just when fans thought they had seen everything there was to see, Sukuna decided to drop a casual little Instagram story that sent the entire fanbase spiraling.

The video was simple enough at first: the two of you chilling in his trailer during a break, scrolling through Twitter and Instagram, laughing at the flood of comments, reaction videos, and memes about your on-screen chemistry.

But it was the soundtrack that immediately caught everyone's attention—George Michael’s “Careless Whisper” playing softly in the background. That instantly iconic sax riff was the setup for what was about to be an unforgettable moment. Fans knew something chaotic was coming; it was only a matter of what.

Sukuna, ever the mastermind, flipped the camera towards himself, giving a mock-serious look before turning it to you, sitting next to him on the couch, grinning like you were in on the joke.

Sukuna looks at you, smirking. “So, the rumors are true.”

That one line was enough to make everyone sit up, hearts pounding, fingers hovering over their keyboards, ready to fire off tweets. You, already sensing where this was headed, played along like the pro you were.

You raised your brow, matching his smirk. “What rumors?”

Sukuna turned his head slowly, looking directly into the camera with that signature smirk that drove fans wild. His voice dropped to a low, sultry tone, dripping with fake seriousness.

He snickers back. “The ones about us, doll.” He paused, letting the tension build, eyes twinkling with mischief. And then, with perfect comedic timing, he delivered the finishing blow. “We do love keeping people on their toes.”

That was it. That’s all it took. The fanbase erupted into chaos as the video zoomed in dramatically on both of your faces, just before you two completely lost it, bursting into uncontrollable laughter. The screen faded to black, but the internet was already ablaze.

The hashtags #TheRumorsAreTrue, #SukunaAndHisDoll, and #KeepingUsOnOurToes were trending worldwide within minutes. Memes were being generated at lightning speed, GIFs of the dramatic zoom popping up on every corner of the web. And the fan comments? Absolute gold.

HiromiSource: “WHY ARE THEY LIKE THIS?!? I CAN’T KEEP UP.”

KingofCursesHQ: “They’re literally trolling us and I LOVE IT.”

HiroKuna4Lyfe: “The fact that Sukuna just casually said ‘the rumors are true’ and then did THAT?? I’M GONE.”

Reaction videos flooded TikTok, fans filming themselves losing their minds as they watched Sukuna drop the ultimate tease. One user even posted a slow-motion edit of the zoom with captions like “My heart cannot handle this level of trolling, this is bad for me” and “They’re playing with us like it’s a sport, and I’m here for it.”

But just when you thought the chaos had peaked, Sukuna decided to throw another wrench into the mix. About five minutes after the video went live, he took to Twitter to reply to the overwhelming reactions.

@ItsRyoKuna: “Oh? Did I? Hm…..I wonder if I did?”

That tweet sent fans into a frenzy all over again. The cryptic nature, the smirk behind the words—it was peak Sukuna, and they were living for it.

HiroKuKu: “HE KNOWS WHAT HE’S DOING. STOP THIS MAN. NO DON’T.”

Pop Sensation Kuna: “’Did I?’ SIR I’M NOT OKAY WITH THIS LEVEL OF TEASING.”

YoItsKukuNa: “Sukuna’s out here stirring the pot like a pro, and I can’t even be mad.”

Of course, you couldn’t resist getting in on the fun either. A few minutes after Sukuna’s tweet, you replied:

@Y/NTheOne: “Guess we’ll never know 😏”

And that? That was the nail in the coffin. Fans went into full meltdown mode. Screenshots of your reply were immediately plastered across every fan page, each theory more dramatic than the last.

HiroY/NHQ: “NOT YOU TOO. ARE WE EVER GONNA GET A STRAIGHT ANSWER???”

SusuKuY/N: “This is literally a soap opera and I’m addicted. GIVE ME MORE.”

It’sY/N’sWorld: Y/N ITS TIME TO STOP IM GOING CRAZY

@Y/NTheOne Replied: No <3

Before long, the internet was awash in fan art, with some recreating the trailer scene in elaborate comic-book style panels, and others painting romanticized versions of your characters together, always with that cheeky, ambiguous vibe that kept everyone on edge.

The fans were even dissecting the choice of “Careless Whisper” in the background. Some insisted it was a secret code, a hint that there was something more going on between you two than just professional chemistry. Others joked that it was Sukuna’s favorite way to troll, playing the ultimate cheesy song during the ultimate tease.

HelloDoll: “Careless Whisper? REALLY?? That’s the most dramatic song choice and I’m here for it.”

JJKuna: “They’re basically telling us they’re the chaotic couple of the century and I can’t handle it.”

The memes kept coming. Someone edited a video of Sukuna saying, “The rumors are true.” then cut to fans fainting and screaming in reaction clips. Another fan took a screenshot of your zoom-in moment and slapped “I WILL NEVER RECOVER” in bold letters across it.

As the fanbase continued to spiral, Sukuna and you just watched from the sidelines, laughing at the chaos you’d unleashed. It was a perfect storm—your playful trolling, the cheeky teasing, and the undeniable chemistry that everyone loved to speculate about.

By the end of the night, the internet was convinced they’d been played in the best way possible. The mystery surrounding your relationship status was still intact, but you’d managed to make the entire ordeal one of the most memorable and entertaining situations in pop culture for your fans.

And for the fans? They wouldn’t have had it any other way.

136 notes · View notes

lurkingshan · 4 months ago

Note

What are some JBLs you recommend that have good kisses AND a good romance plot

LOL I can hear the pain behind this question, anon. It’s true that a lot of JBLs with a good romance story fail to deliver on the physical intimacy side of things, though that is becoming less and less the norm. I do have some that I think do both reasonably well. I don’t know exactly what “good romance” means to you, but I’m going to assume we’re talking about well-executed romance plots, regardless of the show’s overall genre and focus, where the characters and relationship arc make sense and don’t randomly derail somewhere along the way. Here’s what I got:

I Cannot Reach You

This is a high school friends to lovers (the cream of the crop for that trope, IMO). This is a story about realizing feelings and building the courage to change your most important relationship, so you’ll have to wait a bit to get those kisses but once you do, I think you’ll be pleased.

His

The second chance romance for me. This is a bl film about two men who come back together after a bad breakup and figure out how to make it work. I love them and this story so much.

Old Fashion Cupcake

There’s only one kiss in this short and sweet show, but it’s a real doozy. A super tight workplace age gap romance that knows exactly what it’s doing.

At 25:00 in Akasaka

Two actors who went to college together meet again when they are cast opposite each other in a bl drama, and get tangled up in the blurred lines between their professional and personal relationships. Angst, baby!

The Pornographer

This series features some of the best kissing and sex scenes you will see anywhere in the bl genre, but warning that it’s a twisted and wild ride. There are five installments and you gotta watch them all to see the full picture of the character and romance arcs. It’s so rewarding if you do.

The End of the World With You

From the same mind of the previous entry and similarly hot and wild and weird. This show has more going on than the second chance romance at its core, but it themes come together beautifully.

Tokyo In April Is…

Another second chance romance, this one features a lot of sex but also deals with heavy subject matter, so mind the CWs. It’s one of my favorites of last year and the love story in this one has really stuck with me; it’s beautiful and so hard won.

Love is Better the Second Time Around

This one comes with a disclaimer that it goes off the rails in the final two episodes, but you asked for good kissing so it would feel wrong not to include it. Yet another second chance romance (are you picking up on a theme here?), this one gets two former high school lovers back together as adults to sort out their misunderstandings, lingering feelings, and buckets of sexual tension. It was so good—until it wasn’t.

#i cannot reach you #his the movie #old fashion cupcake #at 25:00 in akasaka #25 ji akasaka de #the pornographer #the end of the world with you #bokura no micro na shuumatsu #tokyo in april is...#love is better the second time around #japanese bl #shan recommends #shan answers

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emmaofnormandy · 5 months ago

Text

Imagine you and Aegon find comfort in each other.

Warnings: mediæval like; canon divergence with the series; Y/N’s plot is loosely inspired in (TV Show’s) Helaena’s; drama; smut.

***

• (I)

You have dreams. What do you know about them? They come true, that is what you understand. Whatever colours they are painted of, they come true. Mostly they show you the past, but every now and then… these dreams show something beyond your historical comprehension.

“Y/N, my dearest”, the queen calls you out, bringing you back to reality. You raise your eyes and spot this red-haired woman dressed in fanciful green robes eyeing you with a maternal, yet distant care. “There is something we must speak of.”

“What is it?”, you remember your filial duties. Leaving aside your books, you concentrate on what your often absent mother has to say.

“By any means I mean to bring to you a subject that makes me uncomfortable in speaking of”, the Queen forces a smile, but you can tell by the awkwardness in her eyes that she wishes to be elsewhere. “You are soon going to be married.”

“To Aegon”, you observe, resigned. “How could it be otherwise when he’s the heir?”

For someone so young, your tongue can be sharp whilst your eyes give tons of liveliness not afore perceived by your mother. An awkward silence hangs in between the two of you.

“Yes, to him. This will not happen soon, though.”

“But from now on my lessons will change. I am aware.” And you smile to break the sudden tension. “Fear not, mother. I think Aegon and I will be… in good terms.”

She doesn’t know how you can be certain, but the Queen is relieved for delivering at last what she formerly thought to be dreadful news.

***

• (II)

“Marriages are alliances that must not be focused in sentiments”, instructs the Queen. “These must be placed aside for the sake of duty.”

“Is it not commendable to have some degree of affection between the parties?”, asks Aegon, somewhat confused with where this is going.

His mother gives him a look, deprived of comprehension: how could she, when she married his father by force, never nurturing any affection for this man?

“Nay. The Church strongly discourages affection on both parts, for otherwise marriage, sacred in its end for the purpose of continuing the lineage, becomes profaned.”

Aegon sighs heavily. It is worthless to discuss with his mother, he knows it well. This is a matter that women are better familiar with, for, like his grandsire likes to say, it is linked with a feminine world of which men have little doing in it.

According to the old Valyrian tradition, the heir to the throne comes to understand that he’s to marry his younger sister, Y/N. The young man closes his eyes, at first not really excited about making you his wife.

“I shall do as my lady mother commands”, says he in a mechanic tone, eager to leave the meeting.

Must it be constantly uncomfortable every time they gather together?

A question the Queen sees unposed in her boy’s eyes. One of the kind she wishes she could answer, but trapped in her own ambitious web, all she does is eventually dismiss his presence of her.

And serve herself some wine, naturally.

***

• (III).

Aegon watches as you sit by the fountain. Years gone by since you and him grew up and were forced to marry. The union has been consumed, but you have been avoiding each other’s presence ever since.

However, for some inexplicable reason, here he stands, watching you absorbed in your usual reading. The book is black velvet with golden pages, but judging by the content that has you frowning your eyebrows, Aegon believes it not be of religious type.

He hesitates at first in how to come at you. There had seemed to be an unspoken agreement between both of you since that unfortunate day that once consumed, the marriage would remain as void as possible.

Duties were performed, of course. However, ever since Prince Jaehaerys came to pass, a victim of the Summer Fever, neither could console the other properly. As a result, Aegon produced bastards… but never a legitimate son to continue the line. Perhaps this was arranged, albeit unconsciously so, between him and you against Queen Alicent’s and your grandsire Lord Otto’s ambitions.

But now… Aegon cannot handle his demons alone. Out of his siblings, you are the one whose nature somehow… does not mirror others or his own.

Sensing the weight of his stare, you lift your gaze only to be caught off guard by your estranged husband’s presence. You quickly stand, somewhat fearful he might be here just to scowl at you for failing your duties—something that you’ve seen in others’ eyes.

And even though you’ve been having odd dreams where Aegon and you get along, overcoming these initial struggles that a forced match put you through, you are somehow faithless in this. In addition to this, there’s the fact neither speak to the other since your only son’s demise.

“I do not fault you for his… premature departure of this world”, says Aegon, not needing too much to disclosure the reason why there’s a distance between both parts, under covered by a mutual distrust. “His suffering was short.”

“‘Tis part of our position to accept that what the Lord gives, the Lord takes.” You muse thoughtfully.

Aegon glances away. Religiosity has never been his best, even if he’s forced to play the pious.

“Ours, however, has been unnecessarily prolonged.”

The silver haired prince, who wears court garments today, looks like an empty vessel when these words reach his ears. You hope to reach out for him, but…

“Pardon?”

So close, yet so far.

You are dressing a cream silk gown with details in green and pearls. Aegon notices the result of the embroidery you’ve been working, particularly focusing at the dragons that have been so perfectly woven in the cloth.

“I’ve only meant to say…” You sigh, shaking your head as you quit. “Never mind. This battle is lost.”

Aegon scoffs at your behavior, but in retrospective could you be the one to blame when he walked away so easily?

Biting down a bitter answer, he looks down at his feet before saying:

“May we… walk around the gardens? I think we must speak.”

You cast him a long look.

Could this be?

But when this pair of lilac irises encounters yours, mirroring each other’s soul deprived free will—for where hast it been put if not casted upon the creature done in the similitude of its Creator?—it as if the divine ire has been placated at last. As if little by little all is starting to settle.

Almost if there is hope.

“Aye, lord. I do not see why not”, and when you smile, Aegon realizes this is no time to winter, but to spring. “It has been too long since we last spoke.”

So too he smiles, charmed by this woman whom he neglected by force of pride, weakened in flesh and spirit as he knows.

“True.”

In his own way, Aegon and you begin to gravitate towards each other. Thus the dragons dance.

***

• (IV)

“There is a sadness behind your eyes I cannot decipher”, Aegon muses.

You are lying on his lap. The two of you are found at the gardens in this cloud day. You like how he strokes your hair, careful, tender. A positive change in his manners in these weeks which you gladly welcome despite the early distrust.

“I think I might when I come to think about it, but I fear to dig into it…”, he proceeds. “It makes me want to demove it out of you.”

“That is kind of you, but some people are born with it, I guess”, you close your eyes, unsure where these waters are leading you to.

Though your dreams, green they might be, show you facts that come to be true, you are still frightened by them. Some of them brought you to this very moment in spite of your reluctance to it.

Here you are, though.

“I think we are rather creatures of it”, says Aegon. “And I fear that I am one of the reasons why melancholy has found solace in your heart.”

You carefully rise and contemplate your husband. Your eyes scan his handsome features, part of which mirrors yours. Lilac eyes and silver locks, but a nose and a mouth that certainly take after your mother.

Pulled by strange strings that come from above, you are reasoned by the certainty of being pawns of the gods. Regardless of never answering to them, these never answer to your family either. The clash of mortality and immortality often results in misery.

“Pride is our fall”, you muse, able to see so many tragedies in the past that lead to this current one. “It is only equaled by selfishness. We are all doomed in the end. ‘Tis the nature of us all.”

“I often wish I was worthy of being loved, made different by the divine”, so much being brought out by words and yet you are drawn by them.

“No, my dear lover; my sweet brother, we are all capable of loving… and being loved”, you tell him, capturing his face with your hands.

You rest your forehead against his. Aegon closes his eyes, swallowing the tears he’s been ashamed to keep when darkness rises.

“I am not. And I lament with the depths of my soul for it.”

“Shush now. Quiet the riots of your heart, for we are neither too pure nor too profaned, despite being creatures of sin. We can be light when there is darkness.”

“You are too pure for this world.”

Oh, the anguish. The atonement behind words that hurt like knife, so vicious is the pain these cause.

And yet your lips seek for his in attempt to mend it. Aegon is surprised by your pursuit, but he doesn’t shy away. He welcomes gleefully the sweet taste of your lips.

For the first time in a very long time, pain is left aside by another sentiment, to both of you unknown. What is this? What is this if not the spark of joy? The start of something new, where no words are sufficed to translate.

“I want you”, he whispers like a pained lover, realizing a little too late how his prideful heart and doomed soul stole him away from you for too long.

Whilst his tongue mixes with yours, you succumb to the power of gravity. Like the planets attracted to the sun, so is your heart to his. And you want to steal his misery, you want to be desired as much as you want to love this man.

Half of your soul, your other half.

“I am yours, Aegon”, you bite down his lips, letting him have his way to you when lying down the grass and pulling him over you. “Reclaim me, I beg of you.”

“I shall do as my damsel commands me to”, he gasps, breathless.

Where there was cold, there is now fire. Two dragons, two sides of the same coin, about to get burnt.

He kisses you hard, famine for your affection, desperate to reach out for you and you lift your legs to tie him in between all the whilst returning his fierce kiss, hands gripping his hair, making a mess with his silver locks.

And then…. His lips comes to your neck, biting and leaving bruises, pleased to hear small sounds out of your mouth.

His eager hands start to work on your gown, unlacing it eagerly, digging his hands possessively against your back, very clear in his selfish gesture.

“Mine, mine lady”, Aegon whispers against your chest, pausing breathlessly to contemplate the mess you are now.

Your eyes are partially closed; your red-ish lips are open in a small “o”, wanting for more, releasing these desires for so long repressed, for years repented as wrongs that should be cleansed of your soul.

“Mine lord”, you sigh in content.

And looking down at his face, you see a smile crawling over his lips, which rises to his eyes. Your heart melts and you smile too.

“I exhort you to give me a precious gift”, and you lift him so you steal a kiss out of his lips. “Your heart, your soul… I cannot sleep well at night knowing my lover is not well. Let me be your healer as Venus healed Ares when he was in his worst. For I’d go to hell and cross through damnation to save you.”

“Lady, profess naught these words, I forbid you”, and he kisses you in turn. “Unworthy I am of this gesture, this affection! I shall guard, however, your heart as the great treasure to me sent by the divine. Sinful and doomed I may be…”

“I will redeem you if you let me.”

You shush his uneasiness with another kiss. Now you lay him down, taking control of the reins. You reclaim him like he did to you, except the dragon fire makes you bolder this time.

So your kisses do not concern his lips alone: your hungry mouth captures his neck and his chest… all the whilst you unlace his pants. Starving for affection, one needs the other; a need released after being repressed under the guise of good behavior and social rules.

Oh but where’s the etiquette when your hand grips his manhood, taking it the way he likes—oh you still remember your first night together, when even under the effect of alcohol he was excited to teach you the way it’s done.

Bearing this recollection in minds, Aegon throws his head back and lets out a loud groan.

“Heavens! Oh, my lady! Never before so fair, my leof!”

His chest growing heavy, Aegon’s body is instantly warmed with fire. Eyes rolling in the back of his mind, he’s about to come undone, but not wasting his seed, he turns tables and soon you are no longer the hunter, but the prey.

That in finding pleasure you are able to bury scars of cloud days formed through pain is to delight yourself in these marital activities you and Aegon prevented each of the other in the past years.

Now he’s sliding his manhood into your core after locking your hands above your head, you comprehend at long last what these dreams are about.

Your promise prince. The hope of a yet to come spring.

‘Tis the way upon which salvation is craved: when hearts are blended and bodies are intertwined, when parted souls are one united.

***

• (V)

Politics are not the world you were educated to be part of, which is something you are content about. Unlike your mother, the former queen. This is not a field where you intend to seed your ambitions.

To many, you are content with the role delegated to you, and this isn’t completely untrue. But there are times where nights are dark…

…and full of terrors.

“Aegon”, you whisper his name, but he doesn’t respond; his snore tells how asleep he is. You sigh, but you don’t call him again.

Untangling of his arm, you roll out of bed, anxious. Another dream comes to take your peace… something no one knows, no one’s understand.

You walk barefoot towards the window and there you stand, watching through the glass the darkness above. You can still hear the screams in the back of your head, accusations, the sound of blades…

War is coming.

What is there to stop it? The ambitions of the men are seed to the inevitable. Even so, the scenes are hard to unsee.

Lost in your world, you miss Aegon’s groaning when noticing the cold you left your side of bed and not much time after coming for you.

“Y/N”, your husband snakes his arms around you waist, resting his head on your shoulder. “You look pale. Are you unwell?”

You chew your bottom lip, a sign of distress that Aegon’s familiar with. He suddenly recalls the reason why you and him were never close throughout your childhood and subsequent early adulthood: the fact you were always stuck in your own world.

A reason there was to it, but he was afraid to figure it out then.

“What bothers you, my sweet?”

As you slowly turn at him, Aegon spots tears forming in your eyes.

“You’d not understand.”

“Try me.”

You hesitate, fearful of losing him. As if he could read your thoughts, Aegon cups your face and rests his forehead against yours.

“I shall not leave your side, regardless of what it is that daunts you so.”

“You may call me witch for what I am about to tell you…”

The king chuckles.

“Hardly.”

He waits, aware that this is where you open yourself to him. Aegon can tell, by the looks you cast him, how important this is, a test of trust that will rely on his reactions.

Eventually though, with little need to reassure you that whatever that comes out he will not leave your side, Aegon holds your hands firmly and says:

“We have been under neglect for so long. We were not taught affection nor approval, or any of the values our mother praises in public. And yet here we are with the crown over our heads.” He kisses your cheek, there staying for a while. “We cannot be faulted for the sins of our parents, my wife. We are of the same blood, but we are more than that.”

It is only then you finally grant him entrance to a world where none had dared to do so. Aegon is thus told that you have inherited an ability few possessed in the Targaryen dynasty: the one of having green dreams.

Even so… here it is where one estranged couple gets intimate in the most blessed of forms: by trusting each other and overcoming former difficulties.

Indeed, a victory to the Cupid… or the Virgin Mother who brought harmony to two troubled souls.

***

• Epilogue.

War eventually makes its way to the realm. But when it does, all is settled.

“I must lead my troops against this pretender to the throne”, says Aegon in reference to their sister, Rhaenyra, who never entirely accepted to be cast aside in favour of her younger brother.

“Be mindful. She has Lord Daemon by her side”, you advise him.

“But we have Aemond by ours”, Aegon smirks at you.

As you two embrace, Aegon places a kiss on top of your forehead and a hand over your growing belly.

“Beware, my love”, says he, and you detect concern behind his eyes.

But you sweep away his concerns when you smile the brightest.

“No need to worry. You shall come back to my arms and I will perform my duty accordingly. Dare I say that more children will come in due time!”

Aegon chuckles quietly. When he smiles, no beautiful sight could have warmed your heart like this.

“Aphrodite blessed me indeed!”

He takes your hand to his lips before leading you both to the court where he expects to part with his men soon. Aemond soon comes, joined by Lady Alys, his wife.

Even though this is an unusual union for the time where low born are hardly married into high born houses, you and her got along just fine… and she’s been a good help with the dreams you have.

“This shall not be a farewell!”, says Aegon before all, in a ceremony that you are the protagonist of it. Oh, courtly nonsenses, you know, but here are the perks of being queen. “For the divine calls me to take in arms with the one who, as the same blood of ours, has been conspiring with violence and never befriending with peace!”

“The Fortune has set the path to you, my king. Be merciful, I ask.”

Aegon nods his head regally, every inch a king.

“I will keep your request in mind, my damsel!”

And to prevent a civil war, he goes, mounted in his golden horse whom he calls Sunfyre.

***

However, women are not prevented to fight their own wars even if their victories in childbed are not sang nor praised by poets and bards.

Surrounded with the women of your trust, you are now closed to a feminine world where men take no part. Curious to notice that where Aegon fights for the survival of his dynasty, you too take a similar part in delivering its success.

Amidst pain and blood, though, you perform your duties accordingly. Most would applaud your bravery in facing the process with no tears and few screams.

I am as Targaryen as any of them.

A pair of twins comes to breathe the air after the process is done. You opt to name the male after your husband, Aegon, and the female after Rhaenys. It is only fair since you come after their line.

“How is my queen doing?”, Lady Alys asks you once the labour comes to an end and the babies are taken to be cleaned.

“Good”, you smile at her, taking the hand offered and giving a slight squeeze. “Thank you.”

“More will come”, she whispers.

Your smile spreads fully.

“Oh, indeed. A victory granted by the Divine.”

“Even if the Targaryens answer to no men nor Gods”, says Alys.

Both of you chuckle.

“It is what it is”, you give your motto to your sister in law.

Towards the end of the reign of Aegon the Wise, the chronicler writes how you, successfully known as the peacemaker, set the path to other queen consorts in your queenship. Popular throughout the Seven Kingdoms, your hand extended where your husband’s could not.

For example, you helped arranging the marriages of your third child, Rhaella, with Rhaenyra’s son, Jacaerys, as well as your fourth, Hughes, with Visenya. That way you brought Rhaenyra closer to your family instead of instigating another possibly revolt. Such matches pleased her.

It all ended well.

As for you and Aegon, no successful match has been seen since King Viserys wedded Lady Aemma.

You and him found solace in each other and would remain so until the end of your days. There’s a saying in King Aegon III’s reigns that you and your husband’s bond was so strong that both of you were found dead sleeping in each other’s arms in an advanced age.

#fire and blood #house of the dragon #aegon ii x female reader #aegon ii fluff #king aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x y/n #aegon ii x you #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii smut #aegon the second #aegon ii #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii fic #aegon ii x oc #hotd aegon #tom glynn carney

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ghostytoad · 1 year ago

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* Fun n' Games *

ROTTMNT Boys x GN! Leo-esque reader who enjoys drama, making jokes, and being overall awesome

Summary: The Hamato brothers unexpectedly fall for the smug, but genuine, fun-loving reader despite their egocentric habits

Headcanons for: Leo

GN! Reader; Romantic; Fluff, Mild Angst || Words: 2.3k

Raph | Donnie | Mikey | Bonus!!

Leo:

oho, hello good lookin'~ it's nonstop flirting and banter from the minute they met and it's not going to stop anytime soon

finally! someone who has a sense of humor and can appreciate a good one-liner or two! and they can dish it out as well as they can take it? be still, my beating heart!

leo genuinely finds it to be a gift from the gods that y/n shares his brand of comedy and will not let up on it when he's around them

the romantic tension between y/n and leo is so thick that he could probably slice through it with his odachi - it makes his brothers sick to have to listen to all the schmoozing but leo ADORES the flirting praise

the boy would bend over backwards for y/n; he'd sell his prized jupiter jim collectibles for them if they asked him to (maybe… he'd probably still keep one or two tho)

there's an unspoken and ongoing (very friendly) rivalry between them; leo and y/n are constantly looking to one up each other and it's getting to ridiculous levels of competitive; they won't stop until things hit "deadly" levels and one of them almost ends up getting hurt

even little everyday tasks become a competition for the two of them, there's just no end to their games

grocery shopping? betcha i can save more money than you! pizza night? i can stuff twice as many pizza slices in my mouth than you can. hanging out in donnie's lab? hoo boy, i guarantee i can make him snap first.

it's the bane of donnie's existence, considering he's the target of most of their shenanigans; if he has to endure another one of their "who can ruin donnie's day" games, he swears it'll be the start of his villain arc

mikey's the unofficial score-keeper and peacemaker when things get too heated between the two of them; although he's more likely to stoke the flames than intervene… he just happens to enjoy watching them get carried away (not that he'd say it to their face). definitely enables the chaos to a terrible degree

"no way, you know i totally had that game last night before you went on to blow up my spot with your little tackle! next time we portal our way onto the superbowl field mid-game, i'm leaving YOU on the sidelines and scoring that touchdown solo!" (concerned raph sounds in the background)

they've absolutely plotted to portal their way into "hard to access" places like the white house or splinter's secret lounge room, but raph and donnie made them promise not to do it for very different reasons (donnie doesn't want to have to bail them out if they get stuck and raph is just being raph)

leo and y/n's carefree attitudes combined has landed them into trouble with the law a few times, both in new york and the hidden city

together, they're banned from like 10 different places and they're legally not allowed within 100 feet of any magicians; leo's only explanation for that is "we couldn't tell if it was part of the costume or if the guy actually had a barber-stache and how were we supposed to know he was blind?!". to this day, no one knows what he's talking about.

leo would absolutely hide the evidence of a crime for y/n; he ain't no snitch either and he's not going to let his bestie take the fall for something that TOTALLY wasn't their fault! more than likely, he'd blame their antics on hypno or if it's something not so bad, splinter.

senor hueso has an entire wall dedicated to leo and y/n: The Wall of Failures and Stupid Mistakes That You Will Surely Learn Nothing From

it has photos of all the times leo and y/n went on a fun little adventure and ended up being taken hostage by a villain, thrown in jail, or overall just beat up (they're mostly selfies and yes, leo is smiling and posing in all of them)

he would never let y/n get into any major trouble and he has the common sense to remember that y/n is only human, so at the very least he knows not to do anything too dangerous when they're around; he's reckless but he doesn't have a death wish

"i'm all for a good espionage mission and all, but this is big mama we're talking about! i say we sit this one out and wait for another chance to come along so we can try on these rad bellhop uniforms."

the two of them have made it a point to announce their arrival anywhere by doing the team rocket motto; occasionally mikey or april will join in as meowth. they have the costumes to match and will inexplicably be wearing them every time they do it.

they truly enable the worst in each other; raph insists on tagging along as the unofficial babysitter to every little hangout because of their chaotic nature, meanwhile donnie has protocols for every possible "doomsday" scenario they could initiate with their little stunts. zombies or accidentally reviving the shredder is at the top of that list.

matching outfits are a big must for leo; someone as UH-MAZING as y/n is absolutely worthy of leo's impeccable fashion sense and there's no way he's gonna pass up a chance to twin with y/n. if they refuse to match with him for whatever reason, he will pout about it for days.

whenever leo is sad or feeling a little down, y/n is the first person he goes to for a little cheering up. they somehow know just what to say to make the boy feel like a champion. and no, he didn't give them a script to read off of! (he totally did)

even with all the flirting and pick-up lines, leo still dreads the thought of ever admitting his feelings to y/n; he's a confident turtle, sure, but that's just the face part of being the face man. he's secretly an insecure mess when it comes to them

will become a flustered mess if y/n genuinely compliments or praises him; he'll stutter for a good minute or two before finally snapping back to his suave cool guy persona (which doesn't fool anyone, he's OBVIOUSLY crushing hard)

after an unfortunate night of misadventure, leo's forced to confess to his feelings AND his crimes

Well, some adventure this was turning out to be.

"Get in there! Y'all got the right to keep yer traps shut!"

Yep. What a real swell time.

Being hauled away in a prison ball, headed to the Hidden City Police Headquaters, all the while Big Mama's men chasing close behind.

"So much for the adventure of a lifetime." Y/N hissed bitterly as they tugged and pulled from the tangle of limbs they found themselves in, trapped inside the small bubble with Leo tightly packed alongside them.

"Well, maybe if SOMEONE weren't such a slowpoke, we'd have made it back! And I'd like to say for the record, you are the WORST lookout. Maybe next time try to keep up, will ya?" the turtle spat back with a scathing glare.

Y/N could only muster a hearty scoff as they balled their fists, unable to throw a punch from how they were positioned. Their heel found a suitable landing in the direct center of Leonardo's plastron and dug in with a stomp, eliciting a pained groan from him and a satisfied smirk from Y/N.

"If you weren't so cocky, we might've ACTUALLY pulled off your little stunt! But nooo, Leo just HAS to get in the last word!"

"OHO, pot calling the kettle black now, eh?" Leo wore his signature smug expression and attempted to jab a digit into Y/N's forehead. Given the way his arm was caught between his bent thighs, he only managed a slight graze before opting for a flick instead.

The two bickered and took shots at each other throughout the trip, much to the chagrin of the arresting officials steering nearby. It was gonna be a long night for everyone.

At the station, Leonardo and Y/N were placed into holding together, both of them choosing to sulk in silence on opposite sides of the confined room. It wasn't until Y/N was being processed that the question of what to do with the human came up for the arresting officers. With Leo's odachi confiscated, it wasn't like they could just send Y/N home on their own, but they couldn't leave Y/N in the same cell as powerful, human-loathing yokai. Leaving the pair to stew in their anger, the officers left to deliberate on Y/N's fate.

Silence followed. Neither one wanting to give in to this bitter game of chicken, Leo instead let out a loud, exaggerated sigh.

Silence.

Irked by the lack of response, he threw his head back and gave a loud, guttural groan of frustration.

"Right. So you aren't talking to me." he rolled his eyes and forced his gaze back onto Y/N, who sat indignantly across from him on a cold cement bench, their knees held close to their chest.

Not even a glance back.

"Oh, come on! You can't actually believe this is my fault! If anything, you should be mad at the guard that threw us out and called the cops! He's the one who got us in this little mess!"

Nothing.

The silence tore at Leo's chest, his heart thumping heavily against his plastron as he dejectedly sat back against the cold wall. It was unlike Y/N to ignore him like this. With every second, the stillness became unbearable. This little adventure was truly a disaster, not just for the predicament the two found themselves in but also for the lengths Leonardo had gone to ensure Y/N would have a good time. So that HE would have a good time with them. It didn't matter to him that they could be facing time in prison. That whole deal was practically child's play to the mischeivious mutant. It didn't even matter that they faced a total ban from the mystic city itself. It was the fact that he might've dashed any chance he had of winning over Y/N's affections.

'You just HAD to fuck it up, didn't you? You had to go out and be an asshole!' a booming inner voice fed into his insecurity and the crushing weight was enough to curl the red-eared slider into a fetal position, his lower lip quivering as he fought back tears.

"I…" a sniffle broke Leo from the spiraling despair he'd been wallowing in, unsure if the sound came from him.

"Am I… holding you back, Leo?"

Another sniffle and this time, he was sure the sound came from across the room. Peering over at the source of the sound, he found Y/N curled in on themselves, little hiccups causing their small form to quake and shudder. They were crying.

"Y/N?" Shifting from the bench, Leo took a few hesitant steps towards them as his hand ghosted across their shoulder before pulling away. His face wrought with guilt and worry, he debated scooping them up in his arms and holding them tightly to him right then and there. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. The thought of rejection stopped him in his tracks.

"I don't know why I do it. Why I try so hard to prove that I deserve to be around you." Y/N continued, their voice muffled as they buried their face in their knees. "I'm- I'm just a human. I'm not as strong. I'm not as quick. I can't compete with you and your mystic skills. I can't even keep lookout for you!"

"What? Y/N, no, you got it all wrong! Yeah, you're a human but I-"

"Just stop it! Stop!" Forcing back a loud hiccup, their head shot up to meet Leo's concerned gaze with a fierce, stubborn glare.

"You DON'T have to feel sorry for me and you DON'T have to keep me around! So why? Why keep me around when all I do is drag you behind?"

Their narrow eyes locked themselves with his, desperately searching his expression for any hint of pity. All Leo could do was chuckle, his concern melting into fondness.

"I don't feel sorry for you. Sure, you've looked better but I was so afraid I was the one holding YOU back."

"H-Huh? Me?"

"Y/N." The turtle sighed as he plopped himself down beside them, allowing their back to rest against his side as they unfurled from their little ball of sadness. "You ARE a human, yeah. But do you get how cool that makes you? You can do so much more than I ever could! Look, I might have my good looks, my mad skills, and my amazing charm, but you have that and more in… whew, in spades and for you, it's practically effortless."

As Leo moved to wipe a tear from Y/N's eye, he cupped his other hand on their damp cheek and with a tender tap of his thumb, he parted their lips slightly and moved in to plant his lips softly against theirs. The ghosting of his lips left enough room for Y/N to pull away if they felt uncomfortable. Instead he was nearly knocked back with the full force of Y/N's lips crashing against his, their body leaning over him and practically trapping him underneath their warmth. Leo's hands held firmly onto Y/N's sides and he eased himself back against the cold of the bench, breaking the kiss to let out a soft chuckle.

"I love y-"

"Well, well, well~ Looks like someone owes me 3 months of chores." a familiar, taunting voice hummed not too far from the two.

A jingling of keys had them both whipping their heads towards the now-open cell door, spotting the unmistakable, cocky face of Donatello leaning against the bars with crossed arms.

"D-Donnie?!"

"Yeah, yeah, you two can get back to your little makeout session. But I thought you'd like to know I paid your bail, you're welcome." He waved them off as he began down the hall. Some adventure this turned out to be.

Bonus comic: Leo definitely used his one phone call to call Señor Hueso

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prying-pandora666 · 9 months ago

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Who is Izumi’s Mom? Copium Edition

So we all know that Bryke have refused to confirm who Izumi’s mother is. Even when they released family trees, the conspicuously left Izumi’s mom blank.

So incredibly frustrating!

So since Bryke insists on baiting us and not giving us closure, here’s a dose of copium for all shippers.

First off! Izumi’s name means “spring fountain”. Remember that.

Secondly, she looks like this:

REASONS WHY YOUR SHIP OF CHOICE COULD STILL MAKE SENSE!

Mai - She looks the most like Izumi. She canonically dated Zuko (until they broke up AGAIN). The former comics’ writer believes they will make up. She and Zuko have a history surrounding fountains. Even with all the drama, she remains the most likely candidate.

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Katara - It should be self explanatory why a child named “fountain”, as in water, may be a reference to the one water bender Zuko dueled with most. The two of them clearly developed a connection by the end of the show, and Katara once even offered to heal Zuko’s scar. This one is all but debunked due to Kataang being canon, but it’s still nice to dream! And no one can deny they look great together.

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Jin - Zuko and Jin shared lovely chemistry on their one date. Zuko was even willing to risk getting outed as a firebender in the Earth Kingdom and imprisoned, just to make her smile. This scene is also significant because it involved a fountain. Considering the bulk of Zuko’s redemption happened in the EK and the plot continued into the comics dealing with the blended FN/EK colonies, I can see why this would be a good thematic choice.

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Toph - A rarer pair but one that one storyboard artist snuck in a reference for! Toph and Zuko have a lot in common. They both come from families of status that abused them for their failure to conform. Toph was born blind while Zuko has a disfiguring facial scar that realistically should affect both his vision and his hearing to an extent. Toph also has a friendship with uncle Iroh and was the first member of the Gaang to successfully understand and comfort Zuko as well as she did. Some point out that Zuko’s daughter Izumi has vision problems (like Toph) while Toph’s daughter Lin has a facial scar (like Zuko). The name Kanto, the alleged father of Lin, can also be written with the characters for “crown capital” so some speculate it’s an alias for Zuko. Spring fountain could be a reference both to the Earth element’s season of spring as well as to a volcano, which is like a fountain combining fire and earth. This scene is the most telling, with two doves representing Zuko and Toph. When Zuko walks away from Toph, the two doves kiss, signifying that perhaps a romance between them is destined for the future. Luckily, Toph knows how to listen and wait. Everything that applies to Jin about making peace with the EK applies even more to Toph since she’s actually from a noble house.

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Suki - A bit of a wild card since she’s dating Sokka! But the comics showed Zuko and Suki getting much closer. When no one else was on Zuko’s side during the conflict in the colonies, and even Mai dumped him over his desperate visits to Ozai, Suki stayed by Zuko’s side. She never lost faith in him and tried her best to be there for him. The two have clearly developed a close friendship and bond of trust. Some even see it as romantic, which spells bad news for our boy Sokka. However, seeing as the book Legacy implies Sokka and Suki broke up, perhaps Zuki shippers have more evidence to stand on than originally thought! Everything that applies to Jin about making peace with the EK would also apply, since Suki is also from the EK. Perhaps she could fan the flames of his passion?

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Sokka - Okay we all know it’s not going to happen but they’re really cute and I get it. The fountain claim applies to Sokka same as it does Katara! Hey there’s always a chance! Korrasami proved that!

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Ty Lee - Not a lot to go off here but it’s undeniable that the two have a weird, unspoken tension. Why is Zuko quietly beefing with his sister’s bff? It’s never explained. Something is definitely going on there! We just don’t know what it is. In the comics, Zuko does lament not playing with Ty Lee and the other girls more as a kid.

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Azula - I mean… okay I get it. The features that Izumi has in common with Mai, she also has in common with Zuko. So it’s not impossible to see why some would think she looks like Azula too. But can we please not make ATLA into Game of Thrones? This certainly isn’t helping:

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Jet - He’s dead now so it’s not possible. But did Jet actually have a thing for Zuko? You know… it was really unclear.

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#atla #avatar the last airbender #avatar #Zuko #maiko #zutara #toko #zutoph #Jinko #zukka #Zuki #ty zuko #Jetko

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yagirlwrites · 4 months ago

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(Not) My Baby (5)

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Synopsis: Y/N is having girls night with her roomates when an odd call comes in. Rafe and Y/N meet up to discuss the wedding plans. Drama ensues.

A/N: Hiii! It's been a while, I know! Yet again, I apologize for the long wait. Hopefully this longer chapter makes up a little for how late it is 😅 I hope you all enjoy it! This one is funny and silly, with lots of girly dynamics, but also Rafe and the drama that always comes when they're together 🤭 There might be some sexual tension in this one but our girl loves to stay delulu 🤷🏻‍♀️

Series Masterlist

My work is my own; it's not to be copied, transferred or translated. Reblogs, comments & feedback are always welcome and appreciated❤️

Happy reading! 🥰

(Not) My Baby (Part 5)

She was putting the finishing touches on dinner when her phone buzzed on the counter with an incoming message. The salmon and veggies were still sizzling in the pan, the aroma of a freshly cooked meal making her insides flutter with both hunger and gratitude.

After the past several days, she was glad to finally be back to normal. At least, as normal as it gets under these strange circumstances she found herself in; because of a selfish, conniving, bit- No! No thinking about him tonight. Tonight is for the girlies.

Y/N, Stella and Lena all found themselves having a family dinner after quite a while. Deciding to put each other first and spend a peaceful evening together - complete with a cheesy horror movie and delicious food. Tonight was going to be fun and she wasn't going to let thoughts of him ruin that for even a moment.

A moan could be heard from the direction of the couch where Stella was impatiently waiting for food to be ready. She had been going on about how 'hangry' she had been all day and how much she missed Y/N's cooking. Even though Stella was a decent cook, and Lena could technically fry an egg, it was a known fact in their household that Y/N made "food for the soul". That's exactly what all three of them needed, all of them buzzing with excitement. Even Lena had turned her phone on silent and vowed not to text Kelce the whole evening, wanting to focus on her best friends she felt she had been neglecting.

"Hurry up, please!" Stella's whining made Lena roll her eyes and smack her shoulder causing the girl to pout in mock hurt. "I am an injured woman!"

Y/N laughed as she walked into the living room holding onto the food tray, thinking about how much she missed when all three of them were together like this.

"You'll live." Lena replied without missing a beat, plopping herself down on the chair next to the couch, while the chef presented them with their dinner. Stella's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree and even Lena couldn't stop a smile from breaking through.

"Oh this smells so fucking good, Peach! Come to mama!" She practically jumped to fill up her plate, completely ignoring the other two who smirked at each other, knowing how she gets when she's hungry.

Lena had chosen a movie for them to watch while they eat and decompress. It was some old horror with bad practical effects, demons and gore - perfect for the occasion. They spent the first 20 minutes of the film just enjoying their food in peace while trying to catch up to the plot. Even though the movie was silly it was still spooky and they loved that. Once the food was finished, Stella cleared their plates and brought back ice cream for them to share. The movie was getting real weird and scary when buzzing broke through the intense atmosphere they were in. Stella gasped, dramatically; Lena spared a glance in the direction of the glowing phone and shot Y/N a glare for the interruption. She realized someone was calling her.

"Who the fuck calls?" She mumbled, begrudgingly getting up from her comfy position on the couch to grab the phone and end the annoying buzzing. There are only three people who ever called her, albeit rarely, and two of them were in the room with her. The third one being her mother and she never called this late.

Looking at the screen, her eyes widened and a panicked "what the fuck" left her mouth. The girls both looked her way in confusion, seeing her staring at her phone.

"What?" Stella whispered, as if talking any louder would disturb the fictional characters on the screen.

"Guys..." Y/N slowly turned her phone to face the girls and they both gasped in unison.

"What the fuck?!" Lena jumped from her chair and took her phone from her hands as if it were a trick of the eye and the words on the screen would change once in her posession. But the caller ID hadn't changed...it still clearly said "Devil's Spawn".

The movie forgotten, the silence was now filled with only the incessant buzzing. Whoever it was was not letting the call drop.

"Answer it." Lena spoke causing Stella to jump from the couch.

"Are you insane! No, do not answer that! That is horror movie 101 right there!"

"This isn't a horror movie, this is real life , Stel." Lena responded, exasperatedly. Y/N gulped, Lena's words ringing true.

"...Hello?" Her voice still nearly trembled with trepidation, but she managed to keep it steady. If this was some psycho demon she was not showing any weakness.

"Finally!" A breath of relief left her, and she closed her eyes trying to calm her racing heart.

"Why the fuck are you calling me?" Her voice now taking on a note of clear annoyance, hinting to the girls who might be on the other end of the line.

"Well, hello to you too, Y/N/N." She could just feel Rafe's eyes rolling through the phone. She was not amused.

"Why are you calling, boomer?" He scoffed out a laugh at that one.

"Well if you answered your texts I wouldn't have to call like some boomer, would I?" She rolled her eyes this time, looking down at her phone to see she had several unread text notifications.

"What's so urgent it couldn't wait until morning, then?" She wanted this conversation to be over and for him to stop constantly ruining her fun.

"I need your measurements." "What?" She was dumbfounded at his random request.

"For the dress? My stepmom's been on my ass about getting her your measurements for weeks so if you could-"

"Oh, you mean while I have been blissfully unaware of your schemes? Good times." She sighed wistfully and he had to take a deep breath to calm down.

"Yes. Could you just send me your measurements so I can give them to her, please?" He sounded mildly desparate and quite irritated and she would be lying if she said she didn't enjoy that.

"Hmmm... fine. But only so I can end this conversation sooner." He sighed on the other line.

"Great, whatever." She scoffed at his attitude.

"You're such a brat." She couldn't see it but his eyebrows rose at her remark, a disbelieving smile on his face.

"A brat? That's a new one." She rolled her eyes once again at his attempt to keep the conversation going after she made it clear she wanted it to end.

"Yep, that's you. Bye, now! Don't call me again." She hung up the phone before he had the chance to respond and she smiled in satisfaction at her small victory. Lena and Stella were both staring at her, the former unimpressed and the latter barely holding in a laugh.

"What?" Y/N shrugged in confusion.

"Devil's Spawn?" Lena posed the question and Stella finally burst into laughter.

"Okay, yeah. So I might have saved his number under that name... And then forgot I did it." Y/N gave them both a sheepish smile, hoping they let it go and that they could forget the past 5 minutes ever happened.

"And in my defence, you were also freaked out for a minute!" Lena scoffed, faux offended, while Stella nodded somberly.

"It was the movie. It made us paranoid." Stella whispered again and the other two girls agreed.

"Sooo... Keep watching?" "Fuck yes!" "Lets do it." The trio agreed and made themselves comfortable in their assigned seats again, resuming the film. Y/N couldn't help but check her phone to see the texts he had sent her before that awkward phonecall.

Devil's Spawn: hey sry 2 bother u at girls night but could u send me ur measurements?

Devil's Spawn: my stepmom needs them

Devil's Spawn: for ur dress n stuff

Devil's Spawn: btw she made reservations at the Modiste 4 Tuesday so u can try some stuff out

Devil's Spawn: pls lmk the measurements asap

She read through his texts with a raised brow. How did he know they were having girls night? Kelce must have told him, she guessed. The Modiste? What was this, Bridgerton? A scoff escaped her, met by shushing from Stella by her side. Her friends were once again deeply engulfed in the film playing on their TV screen. Y/N, however, was distracted.

She couldn't stop thinking over everything that had happened recently. Thinking about Rafe, or the 'Devil's Spawn' as she had aptly named him. She had forgotten all about the little nickname she dubbed him with in her phone, right until she picked up and heard his voice. Then it came back to her - the group chat Lena had created to keep them all in the loop over a trip they had planned, her tipsy and giggling to herself while she saved his contact at how funny and clever she was. Truth is she never expected to use it, she just wanted to spite him, even if it was petty and just for her own amusement. But that was so long ago now, and the little rebellion completely escaped her memory. Which is why she had given into the horror induced paranoia tonight. It was funny though, even funnier since it was all three of them who fell for the spooky caller. She looked over at her friends, smiling. She had missed this so much. She finally let herself sink back into the couch and tried watching the rest of the movie but she soon dozed off from exhaustion.

The next day she woke up groggy and confused. She realized she was still on the couch, but this time alone and covered by a blanket. The girls took care to make her comfy before going to their respective beds. She took a deep breath, looking at the time on her phone seeing it was just past 7, wondering if she should just move to her bedroom and go back to sleep when a text came through.

Devil's Spawn: can u send me those measurements??

She rolled her eyes at his insistence and lack of patience. It's not like she had the numbers lying around. She needed to measure herself first. That would prove a challenge since she didn't have a tape measure. She pondered on whether Stella might have one when Lena made her way into the living area.

"Oh, you're up?" Lena had been an early bird for as long as she knew her. Stella was the opposite, she could sleep forever. Y/N was somewhere in between, not quite a morning person like Lena, but definitely not comfortable staying in bed until the afternoon.

"Yeah. Morning." Y/N rubbed her tired eyes giving her friend a sleepy smile.

"Good morning." Lena smirked and went to the kitchen to start on her coffee.

"Hey, do you have a tape measure?" She asked in hopes she wouldn't have to wake up Stella and risk losing a limb.

"A tape measure? Why?" Lena's confusion echoed from the kitchen area and Y/N slowly got on unsteady feet to patter closer to her.

"Just need to take my measurements." She sighed, smelling the coffee Lena was brewing.

"Why?" Lena repeated the question and she knew she wouldn't let it go, she was stubborn like that.

"Rafe needs them." Lena gave her a knowing look. Knowing of what she was unsure. He was such a pain in her ass.

"Why does Rafe need your measurements?" Lena posed the question as she pulled out two mugs and started filling them with the precious liquid.

"I don't know. Something about his stepmom and the wedding. Do you have one or not?" Y/N grabbed the oat milk from the fridge and handed it to Lena who thanked her with a smile.

"Not." Lena poured herself a bit of milk and Y/N a generous amount. The girl was looking at her friend with a deadpan expression after her answer.

"Stel does, though." Y/N groaned, realizing she'd have to sneak into her best friend's room because of Rafe. Ruining her day before it even started, the prick.

"Do you know where she keeps it?" She asked hopeful, praying it might be a quick in and out mission and the risk of waking the lion would be low.

"Hmm. No, sorry. Maybe her desk drawers? That's where she usually keeps her craft supplies." Lena shrugged and took a long sip of her coffee, closing her eyes in pleasure at the strong aroma waking up her tastebuds.

Y/N let out a breath and braced herself for the mission ahead. It would be fine. Stella was probaby knocked out cold. She'd just do a quick check and if she can't find it in the drawer she'd text Rafe to leave her the hell alone until Stella woke up. She crept into Stella's room, her sock clad feet making as little noise as possible as she inched towards the desk. She was almost there when Stella stirred and she froze in place, bracing for an attack. But it never came and Stella kept snoring. She sighed out in relief and went searching through the desk with minimal noise. She managed to find it, in the last drawer of course.

She retraced the footsteps back out of the room and felt impressed when she made it to the living room without waking her friend. Maybe she could be a spy or a cat burglar cause that was seriously cool. Lena was looking at her with a blank expression as she crept back to the kitchen. She swore she had the two most dramatic women for roomates. Stella took the cake of course, but Y/N definitely acted up sometimes and gave Stella a run for her money. It was hard being the reasonable one in the household.

"I got it." Y/N whispered, showing off the prize.

"Good job, bub." Lena said, semi sarcastically, but Y/N just grinned proudly.

"Can you help me?" Lena rolled her eyes but got up to help her friend. They had to look up instructions on how to take measurements correctly and wrote them down in Y/N's notes app. It took longer than they thought it would. Once they finally finished, she sent them to Rafe with what she deemed an appropriate warning.

Baby: here are your damn measurements

Baby: I expect you to be a lot less pushy from now on

Baby: I'm doing you a favor, don't forget that

Lena had packed up her stuff and left the apartment not long after and Rafe responded in suit.

Devil's Spawn: why thank you your holiness I wouldn't dream of being pushy with thee again

She scoffed at his idiotic response just as the next text came in.

Devil's Spawn: u want me to buy u a purse for ur troubles madam?

Baby: that's sexist

Devil's Spawn: so that's a no on the birkin?

She rolled her eyes and decided to ignore him and his sarcastic little messages. She could feel how tired she still was and since it was a day free from classes she figured going back to bed might be her best option. She poured her coffee into a bottle and put it in the fridge for later and then made herself comfy in her own bed. After a night on the couch her back was screaming in protest. She had to remember not to fall asleep in the living room again because her back hurt for days every time it happened. She was just about to fall into a slumber when her phone buzzed on the night stand. She almost groaned but checked it anyway.

Devil's Spawn: can we meet 2day?

She hated the way he texted. Was it so damn hard to just spell out an entire word? She was about to ignore him but the phone buzzed again.

Devil's Spawn: we need 2 go over some stuff 4 wedding

She groaned into her pillow after reading that. Couldn't she go one day without dealing with his bullshit? One day without thinking about the damn wedding she is forced to attend with him? At least she had the car, she reminded herself and smiled. She hadn't had much of a chance to drive it yet, so why not take advantage of it?

Baby: fine. 6pm at Rooftop

The Rooftop Bar was a gorgeous place right outside of town at one of the hotels overlooking the ocean. It was a 30 minute drive so she could enjoy the ride and the beautiful view. That was at least one good thing to come out of this whole mess.

Devil's Spawn: ok see u

With one final eye roll she finally laid her head on her soft pillow and traveled all the way to dreamland. Unfortunately so did her thoughts of a certain irksome boy and his blue-green eyes.

--------

After waking back up around 11, she went on with her day somewhat normally. However, the cloud of her approaching meet up with Rafe kept gnawing at her mind, never letting her fully relax. She debated cancelling at least 20 times, but she didn't. She knew it was time to accept her fate and make peace with the predicament she was in. She reminded herself she'll be getting something out of the deal too. That and the car. She smiled at the thought of the Mustang parked in front of their building.

It was only a few days ago that Rafe reluctantly handed her the keys to his most prized posession. He was sulking the entire time, a pout on his face she would have made fun of if she hadn't been so damn excited nothing could rain on her parade. And frankly, taking something from him that he loved would probably humble him a little and he desparately needed some humbling.

She had been eyeing the Mustang for years. She didn't know a lot about cars but she always liked the classics, fawning over them if she saw one on the road. She didn't care for the men driving them, obviously. She just found older cars to have more character, as most new cars all looked exactly the same to her - she couldn't even tell you what make any uber she'd ever taken was. But the old cars were different, pretty, special. She had always wanted to drive one but never had the opportunity. Suffice to say she had been jealous of Rafe having such a gorgeous car, believing a dickhead like him did not deserve it. And as soon as she had the idea to barter for it, she was ecstatic.

When she slid into the sleek leather seat, turned the key and heard the engine roar, she was in heaven. Rafe's misery at the arrangement was quite enjoyable too, given that he put her in such an impossibly awkward position in the first place. She felt it was only fair he suffer as well. So she didn't feel guilty driving away from him, in his old Mustang, while he looked after her with anger and sadness as she left him in the dust.

She hadn't told her friends what she was going to do, what she would ask of him in the end. They were mad at her for keeping them in suspense and she knew they'd lose their minds once she drove home in Rafe's baby.

She had barely stopped the car in front of their building when she impatiently dialed Stella's phone. Once the girl answered, Y/N only relayed a quick, criptic message of her "coming downstairs, now" and hung up. Stella had been confused but made her way out of the building all the same. As soon as she saw her in the black Mustang, Stella's jaw dropped and Y/N couldn't hide her smirk.

"No. Fucking. Way." Y/N just laughed at her friend's shocked expression.

"You took his car!? Oh my God, you're an evil genious! Remind me never to piss you off." Stella joked as she ran to hug her, both of them beaming in excitement.

"How did you convince him to give you his car? That's like his baby!" Stella shook with nerves and excitement.

"Like you guys said, he couldn't say no." Y/N shrugged, seemingly chill. However, she also couldn't quite believe she managed to get him to give her his fucking car. He really was desparate for this deal to work, otherwise he would have told her to go fuck herself and never spoke to her again. What a mess. But hey, it was a mess he got them into himself and she wasn't going to pass up a good opportunity by feeling guilty about it. He was a dick and he deserved a nice portion of humble pie.

It wasn't until later that night, while Stella and Y/N were in the apartment doing their respective work, that Lena burst through the door looking dishevelled, like she ran all the way to the third floor. The two girls were completely bewildered at their friend until she spoke.

"Where's Rafe?" Lena was looking around the apartment expecting the boy to pop up from behind a counter or something.

"I don't know? What-" Y/N started, but was interrupted.

"Why is his car in the parking lot?" Once Lena posed the question the two girls gave each other a knowing, mischievous look. Lena looked at them confused.

"About that..." Y/N started the story. Suffice to say Lena had been thoroughly shocked and amused by the ordeal.

"I can't believe you took his car. You are devious. He loves that thing more than himself." Lena chuckled and Y/N rolled her eyes.

"Well, that just isn't true or he wouldn't have agreed." She smirked and the girls nodded in agreement. Lena praised her for her nerve and Y/N thanked Lena for giving her the push to go after what she wanted.

That was two days ago and aside from classes she hadn't had a chance to drive her new car which was tragic considering how excited she was to have it. But tonight that changes. She'll finally have an oportunity to get in her new Mustang and cruise. She was buzzing with butterflies at the prospect. She had picked the location of their meeting specifically so she could enjoy the drive there and back. Also she really loved the place, rarely getting a chance to visit it. It had a gorgeous view, loads of fresh air and affordable drinks. What was not to like?

She decided to put some effort into how she looked tonight, wanting to enjoy herself to the fullest, ignoring the fact that the person she'd be meeting would probably piss her off at some point. She chose to focus on the fun parts of the evening. She picked out a cute outfit, leather jacket in tow, put on a red lip and looked herself over in approval. This is exactly the aesthetic she wanted, the kind befitting a girl driving a car like that. She grinned in excitement and got ready to leave.

She had told the girls she'd be meeting Rafe tonight and she was glad they weren't home to see how much effort she put into her appearace. She knew they'd assume it was for him when it wasn't. Not even a little bit. She was dressing for herself. And while that usually meant comfort to the max, she really wanted to look good tonight.

------

The drive was peaceful, filled with her favourite playlist and the roar of the Mustang she was falling in love with. The sea air was refreshing, helping her calm herself down. No matter how much she was enjoying her ride, the fact was it would end with meeting him. She tried so hard to keep herself cool and carefree but when it came to him it was an impossible feat. He always managed to get under her skin, no matter how much she claimed she didn't care. This whole situation was so messed up and she hated him for putting her in it. It was so absurd she couldn't believe she agreed to it. Even with the stunning automobile she was currently driving.

She forced herself to put it out of her mind for the rest of the trip; so she could enjoy the wind in her hair, fresh air in her lungs and Chappell Roan on the stereo.

Once she stopped the car she noticed he was already there, she could see his bike in the parking lot. A very nice bike, she had to admit. But of course it was, his family was loaded, he only had the best of the best. He had tried making her feel bad about taking his mode of transportation, knowing full well he had his bike to fall back on. She scoffed at the memory. What a bitch.

She had hoped she'd get there first and perhaps have a drink in peace before having to deal with him but alas the universe was not on her side tonight. Well, it seemed like it hasn't been on her side for a while.

Putting aside her anxiety, she held her head up high when she entered the hotel, beelining for the elevator that led to The Rooftop Bar where Rafe was waiting for her. He was early, she realized. It wasn't even 6 o'clock when she parked the car and he was there already. He wasn't usually late, as far as she remembers from their hang outs, but she doesn't think she'd seen him be early either.

Once she stepped out into the fresh evening air she felt herself relax slightly. The twinkling lights spread around the open-air bar were beautiful and the view of the coast breathtaking. She loved the smell of the sea, it always brought her peace. She supposed that's part of the reason why she chose this place, to help her out while she dealt with the one person who always managed to get under her skin.

Her eyes moved across the rooftop until they met his blue ones. He was sat at one of the tables closest to the edge, one with a great view. His eyes had been on her since she stepped foot out of the elevator, having been anxiously waiting for about 20 minutes. He wasn't sure why he came so early but for some reason he just didn't want to be late and risk angering her.

He had the chance to take her in before she noticed him. And boy was she a sight to behold. She looked good, too good. With a dress that hugged her curves just right and a black leather jacket making her look sexy and cool.

She always looked good when they were out together with their friends but for some reason he thought she looked extra nice tonight. Perhaps she was trying to mess with his head. Or maybe she wasn't thinking of him at all when she got dressed. Which was a thought that kind of stung given how much effort he put into his own outfit. He changed at least four times, feeling shockingly nervous to see her. He spent the whole day anxiously awaiting 6pm. He wasn't sure why he was feeling so amped up, maybe because they were meeting up alone, in a really nice and maybe even romantic place. Maybe because it was finally setting in that this whole thing was really happening and that less than two weeks from now they'd be playing a couple in front of his entire family. He chose to chalk his nerves up to the latter, not wanting to dwell on anything else.

It would have been comical, how fast her body language changed once she saw him, if it didn't cause a sharp pain in his chest. A moment ago she had seemed relaxed and maybe joyful but the moment their eyes met she stiffened up, as if she had to be on guard around him. It sucked, thought he knew she had every right to be upset with him, he did put them both in an awkward predicament. It still kind of stung that she felt so unwelcoming toward him. He chose not to dwell on that either and gave her a nod in greeting.

She mentally prepped herself on the walk over to their table, trying to remind herself that she is a grown woman and this man couldn't unhinge her unless she let him. And she wouldn't let him.

"Hey." He stood suddenly and rushed to pull her chair out, the action taking her by surprise.

"Hey. Thanks." She gave him a small awkward smile and he nodded, sitting back into his own chair across from her and waving over a waiter.

She took him in while he was distracted. He looked good and she hated it. With a button up and a leather biker jacket draped over it, he looked efortlessly cool. She was worried for a minute she might be slightly overdressed and he'd be in his usual t-shirt and backwards cap combo but he seemed to have cleaned up too. She supposed it was this place. It had a fancy vibe that made people want to dress just a little nicer for it. That was it, no other reason.

The waiter came and took their order, she realized he had not ordered a drink yet so he must have gotten here only minutes before her. He ordered a craft beer the waiter recomended and she asked for a fruity cocktail. One drink wouldn't hurt, it would help with her nerves. One drink only though, so she could safely drive back home.

"Thanks for meeting me today." He gave her a sweet smile and she responded with a mere nod, not willing to risk speaking when she felt so confused about how nice he was being. It was uncharted territory and she didn't trust it. She had to keep herself on guard.

"I love this place." He looked around with a small genuine smile, and she could tell he was being sincere. "It's a shame we don't come here more often."

"It is, yeah." She gave a tentative smile as she agreed with him. Another extremely unusual occourence - the two of them agreeing on somehing. The silence started dragging on so she decided to stop it before it spread any longer and it became awkward.

"So, what is it you wanted to discuss?" Her voice took him by surprise, breaking him out of a haze he found himself in for a moment.

"Oh, um. Just, stuff for the wedding. We should be prepared, you know." He looked sheepish and her suspicion was rising.

"Sure. So go ahead." She gave him a pointed look.

"Hm?" He looked out of it and her brow furrowed.

"Tell me more about this wedding. Your family. You know, prepare?" She was looking at him oddly, slightly concerned with how airheaded he seemd to be acting.

"Oh, of course yeah." He nodded and readied himself to spill the beans.

"Right. So we should probably start with my family." He looked uncomfortable saying it but she agreed. It did seem like the most important part. Getting them to believe they were a couple.

"Yeah, so theres my dad, my stepmom - her name is Rose, by the way - and my two little sisters." As he recounted his family dynamic and threw in tidbits of information she should probably be aware of, she found herself in awe for a moment. She had known he had sisters but she did not expect the love he exhibited while talking about them.

He mentioned how his relationship with Sarah had been rocky when they were younger but they found a way to communicate in the past year and how relieved he was that they were finally talking again. That he missed her. There was an embarrased but endearing blush on his cheeks at the revelation that made her smile. Once he noticed it, he smiled too. It was an oddly comfortable moment between the pair.

He spoke of his younger sister Wheezie with unbridled adoration, retelling a few childhood stories that made them both laugh. It was weirdly nice, sitting there together like that. Neither of them really expected it to feel that way. Almost, natural. Like they were just two regular people, sitting in a bar and chatting about their lives over drinks.

Soon enough the mood shifted as the story got to his father - Ward Cameron. She found herself bearing resentment towards the man and she'd barely even met him. He was always pompous at any event he'd come to at their college but she wasn't too bothered by him. She knew how to work people like that, figure out what they're like, tell them what they want to hear and she'd be golden. But the cloud over Rafe's head as he spoke about his dad made her heart clench with empathy for the boy. She couldn't imagine having such a terrible relationship with your father that you'd look so miserable at the mere mention of him. It tugged at her heart.

He explained how Ward very much cared for appearances, which she knew already. He mentioned that he always saw Rafe as a disappointment and he really didn't want to be one anymore. She kind of felt bad for him even though in his desparation to impress his dad he put her in this shitty position. The ice around her heart was slowly melting. She still hated the entire ordeal, obviously, but she kind of understood why this was important to Rafe.

She still didn't like that he was using her as a pawn in his game of "win dad's approval" and she wouldn't pretend otherwise no matter how much of a sob story he sold her, though. She knew he was laying it on thicker than necessary to try and gain her sympathy. And while it kind of worked, the method didn't go unnoticed and she resented his manipulation tactics.

He described his stepmother as a vain woman, just as obsessed with image as his father, which made sense. She wasn't sure if his negative image of her was warranted or not, given that she'd never met the woman. She decided to keep his warnings in mind but leave an open mind for Rose. As far his sisters went she already knew she'd like them. She just felt bad that she'd be lying to them. That part sucked.

He mentioned some of the influential people who would be attending this wedding, and she was kind of surprised with just how many people relevant to her future career would be there in one place. And she'd get the chance to network. This really was a good opportunity for her, he wasn't lying when he said that. She was impressed.

She knew he was smart, but it took her by surprise just how much he knew about who she'd be interested in meeting and even giving her some pointers on how to impress a few of them he knew more closely. Rich people really do all stick together. She almost scoffed but refrained as he was doing her a solid giving her these bits of information that could definitely help her when she approached her targets.

When he had finally reached the conclusion in his debrief, the waiter returned to take their empty glasses and ask if they'd like to order more. As much as she enjoyed the sweet cocktail she remembered the promise she made herself and ordered a coke. Rafe ordered the same and gave her a cute smile.

It was odd, how natural it felt opening up to her. Even for a bit. He didn't quite understand how this woman managed to make him feel both exposed and understood at the same time. Like she could see right through him but she simply listened and empathized. It was fucking with his head.

He had spared her most of the details about his father which he deemed not necessary for her to know. It was all about preparing her for the wedding, that's all. He was amused at the way her eyes sparkled when they talked about her part of the deal, all the people on the guest list she would no doubt be able to wow. She seemed kind of excited and it made him feel glad. So far she had only expressed anger and disapproval over their arrangement. But there was a great opportunity for her in it too, which she had been ignoring for the most part. He knew she would manage to charm any one of those guests she wanted to. She was like that, incredibly charismatic and charming. He simply wasn't on the list of people she wished to charm. And he was fine with that, it didn't matter that there was a short burst of pain inside his ribs at the reminder that the only reason she was sitting with him right now was the deal they made.

"So what's with this "Modiste"?" Her voice was dripping with sarcasm at the use of the word.

"Yeah. Sorry about that. Rose likes to keep things looking perfect. She wants us to match so we need to try some things out." He rolled his eyes at what he deemed his stepmother's dramatics. "The clothes need to be tailored, not a single crease in sight."

For Y/N, it was beginning to sink in just how different their worlds were. The mere clothes they wore were so startlingly different in price, she shuddered to think what this entire wedding would look like. She did not belong in the world of oppulence. She was a small town girl, on a scholarship, trying to make a difference in this world. But the world was quite literally tailored to the upper classes, and her dislike of them had to take a back seat if she wanted to fulfil her dreams. Change starts from within, small steps and all that. She had to remind herself to breathe as her thoughts nearly spun out of control.

Rafe noticed her expression change and frowned.

"Everything okay?" She startled at his voice breaking her out of her daze.

"Oh, yeah. Yeah all good." She gave him an unconvincing smile and he had to hold back from calling bullshit. He didn't want to piss her off, things were finally going somewhat okay between them and he wanted it to continue on like that.

"Okay so we just gotta pick out a few outfits on Tuesday and that's what we'll be wearing. Rose will take care of everything else, like always." He attempted a joke in order to relieve the tension that was radiating off of her.

"Right. Makes sense." She nodded trying to focus on the topic at hand. "Wait a few outfits?" She questioned, confused.

"Oh, yeah. Well one for the first day, the rehersal dinner-" she interrupted him before he got to finish his thought.

"Hold on, hold on, hold on." He looked bemusedly at her.

"What?" Her brows furrowed in confusion at his words.

"What do you mean the first day?" He was looking at her like she had grown a second head.

"Well, the rehearsal dinner, as I was saying. Then the wedding on Saturday-" he didn't get to finish again.

"I'm sorry, I'm gonna stop you right there." He was barely holding in his annoyance at her rude interruptions.

"You're saying this is a two day deal?" She was looking like she was about to pass out and alarm bells finally started ringing in his head.

"It's actually three days." His voice was careful, trying not to upset her further because she seemed like she was on the verge of a panic attack.

"Three days?!" Her voice was louder than she expected, and she got a few dirty looks from the table next to them.

"I told you this?" It came out as a weak attempt to placate her.

"No. You did not." She was glaring at him, and if looks could kill he would be a full 6 feet under this hotel.

"I swear, I thought I told you!" His desparation could be felt through every syllable.

"Rafe I swear to God-"

"I'm sorry! I really thought I did..." he looked petrified. Like the very thin line they had been toeing was about to break and he wasn't sure he could ever fix it if it did.

She got up from the table and walked away without a second glace. It happened so fast, one second she was there, steam practically coming out of her ears, then he blinked and he was faced with her back leaving the bar. He jumped into action, throwing some cash on the table to cover the bill and ran after her.

She had already gotten onto the elevator by the time he reached it and she purposefully closed the doors on him... Fuck. He realised his only option was to run down the stairs as fast as he could in hopes he reaches her before she takes off.

By the time he runs out of the staircase the elevator is empty and he curses his luck. He rushes out, panting, panicking, ready to see his car gone but it isn't. The car is still parked in front of the hotel but she's nowhere in sight. His relief turns to confusion, turns to concern until he notices something moving across the road and sees her standing at the railing overlooking the ocean. He hurries to join her. Her eyes are closed and she's breathing in a deliberate manner.

"Y/N/N-"

"Don't." She interrupts him again, this time he lets the silence roll. They stand there for what feels like eons but in reality was no more than 2 minutes. She opens her eyes and stares at the sea bellow them, the waves crashing into the cliffside. Her breathing evens out and she exhales a deep breath.

She had to get away from him, she needed a minute to breathe, calm herself down. She was reaching an anxiety attack up there and she needed out.

He stood a few feet away, mimicking her posture, waiting for her to speak or move or do something. He was so scared he screwed the whole thing up by not telling her. He really did think he had. But to be frank, he mostly blocked out those extremely embarrassing moments when he revealed to her the truth of his transgression and begged her to help him. So how was he to know if he actually did or didn't mention it? By her reaction though, it was clear this was the first time she was hearing about it. He wanted to slap himself.

"I'm sorry." His voice was quiet, small, defeated almost.

She finally looked at him then and realized he wasn't lying about believing he had told her about the wedding being a three day affair.

She wanted to cuss him out, slap him, tell him to take his car keys back and to leave her the fuck alone for the rest of time. But the way he was looking at her, so broken, so desparate, sad. Like she was holding his entire world in the palm of his hands and if she dropped it he wouldn't survive it. And she cursed herself for being empathetic because he really kept pulling the rug from under her again and again. Just when she thought she was finally in control, understood what she was dealing with, he reveals something else that tilts her world off its axis.

She sighed again and looked out at the setting sun. He kept his eyes on her. He was sure she would have cussed him out by now or maybe pushed him over the railing by how angrily she had looked at him back at the table. But she hadn't. Hadn't left either. She was still there. Maybe there was still hope.

"I swear, I thought I told you." He repeated himself pathetically, not knowing what else to do. She looked at him, the intensity in her eyes knocking his breath out of him. He was at her mercy yet again.

"I know." He looked dazed at her words. Hopeful for her next.

"You hate me now?" His voice was barely a whisper at that point. Why does he always fuck everything up?

"I don't know." Ouch. He was kind of hoping for a no. By the dejected look on his face she realized her words were a mistake. And untrue.

"No. I still don't hate you." She spoke looking back at the horizon. His head swiveled back to stare at her gauging if she was being truthful or playing with him. He was greatful it was the latter.

"Are you gonna back out?" The silence and the suspence were bad for his health, he felt faint. She let out a loud breath, seemingly fighting with herself.

"No." His eyes snapped up to hers incredibly quickly. But before he could say anything she continued.

"But you need to be honest with me. No more surprises, okay? I can't deal with any more of this shit." He was nodding along with her words enthusiastically, trying to hold in a smile that was desparate to come out. She wasn't abandoning him. She was still with him.

"I swear!" His hands were in the air in an apologetic manner.

"So is that it? Or is there anything else I should know that you forgot to mention?"

"No, that's all, I promise." He was nodding again, trying to convince her he was serious.

"Rafe, I swear to God if anything else pops up-"

"It won't!" He came closer to her, staring in her eyes, begging her to believe him. His move startled her but she didn't move, couldn't. It was as if his eyes were keeping her in a trance. She could see no sign of deception in them, so she nodded.

He finally let the smile out, the relief and gratitude overwhelming him. She hated that the sight of him made her want to smile too. She kept hold of herself though. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"So, three days?" He realized she was asking for an explanation.

"Right. So the plan is we get there on Friday in time for the rehearsal dinner. Then Saturday is the wedding and reception. That's where you get to make your move." He gave her a cheeky wink and she rolled her eyes.

"And then Sunday is recovery from the wedding and a continuation of the celebration for the bride and groom's closest family and friends. A way to spend some time together before they go off on their honeymoon."

"So three whole days of playing the part." She was deep in thought. Partly doubting her ability to pull it all off for so long, partly hyping herself up at the prospect of those connections that were so close to her reach.

"Look, I know it's more than you exepected but it's not a big deal." The look she gave him showed him her thoughts. Bullshit. He cracked a smile. She wanted to slap it off him. He was too damn cocky for either of their goods.

"You do realize we have to convice your family, friends and everyone else there that we're a couple, right?" He nodded, as if it was obvious.

"And we have never been able to not piss each other off for more than an hour." She waved back toward the hotel, reminding him of their most recent disasterous interaction. He sighed, putting his head in his hands, exasperated.

"So what then? I don't know what you want me to do. You're the one who ran away from me." He looked at her and noticed her glare was back. And they had just fixed things. This was exhausting.

"I needed a moment to breathe and think after getting yet another major reveal from you." She was right.

"I know. I'm sorry." He approached her again.

Why did he keep getting into her personal space, looking at her like that? Why did it keep affecting her the way it was? Why did she keep letting him? He was a breath away, it seemed. And those eyes looked anything but sorry then. They looked wild. As if their proximity was ruining both of their resolves. She had to put an end to this tomfoolery. So she stepped away, crossing the street back to the parking lot, leaving him dazed and confused.

After a moment he followed, hands in his pockets portraying a picture of nochalance which was nothing more than a facade. She saw through it but she didn't want to know whatever it was that was going through his head now. She needed this interaction done with, once again feeling drained of all energy. It was like he had this annoying ability to rattle all her senses just by being near her. She hated that. She opened the car door, his car door, feeling his stare boring into her.

"I'll see you at the Modiste." She offered a neutral, but somewhat friendly goodbye. He nodded, looking at her with an intensity she didn't know what to do with.

He hated seeing her like this. So calm and collected when he was anything but. Hated how easy it was for her to walk away from him, time and time again. How pathetic he felt wishing she wouldn't, again and again.

She looked infuriatingly good, standing by his car, like she owned it. Like she had the right to drive it. It pissed him off that it suited her, looked like it was made for her when it was his most prized posession, which she stole from him. He hated how much he liked seeing her getting into the drivers seat, how he got a great view of her ass as she did. Hated how much every little thing about her seemed to affect him in the worst ways. Mostly he hated that he didn't hate any of it, how much it stirred inside of him, stuff he wanted to pretend did not exist. And he resented her for not feeling the same unhinged way he always seemed to when they're together. He hadn't moved from his position by the car, not even an inch. Just staring at her while she turned the ignition on and the familiar sound of the old muscle car roaring to life shot a pang through his heart.

He resented how good she looked driving his car. It was so fucking unfair.

She looked back at him, confused as to his state of mind, from the intensity on his face and the way his eyes just wouldn't leave her. She felt an overwhelming urge to break the tension somehow. Just driving away while he stared at her seemed too unnerving of a prospect.

"You promise no more surprises?" She managed to break him out of his reverie then. He clearly did not expect her to speak again. He processed her words and smirked.

"What would life be like if there were no surprises, Y/N/N?" The look she gave him made him laugh and reassure her.

"No. No more surprises. Scout's honor." Dramatically, he puts a hand over his heart.

"Good. Because if I show up there and find out that it's actually our wedding or something, I'm going to murder you."

Those were the last words he heard before she took off in his beloved Mustang. Once again leaving him in the dust, this time a live wire from their encounter. He was left with the unfortunate image she had now put in his head. Why would she say that?

Why would she say that? What was she thinking? At least she managed to take him by surprise and break whatever daydream he was in. But why did she say that? Now she was thinking of how awkward it was. She wanted to leave on a funny and unaffected note but now she was left embarrased.

She took a breath and made a conscious decision not to dwell on that cringe mistake and leave it in the rearview along with him. And as she drove further away from the hotel and the man in front of it she managed to convince herself the worst was behind her and whatever came from now on would be easier.

Just as she was starting to believe it, she heard the roar of a motorcycle and she knew it was him. She expected him to zoom past her but he slowed down to match her pace. She looked over at him confused, but couldn't see his face. So she did the only thing she could think of in that moment and waved at him. That seemed to do the trick as he waved back and finally took off in front of her, leaving her to wonder what the hell just happened.

-------

When she finally got into bed that night, freshly showered and tummy full, she noticed a text notification on her phone.

Devil's Spawn: it looks good on u

It took her a moment to realize what he was talking about. And then it dawned on her. The weird moment on the road. He was checking her out while she was driving his car. Her cheeks turned a furious shade of red as it sank in. And he had the audacity to send that text. Not only was he checking her out but he wanted her to know it too. What a pompous douchebag.

She decided that the fluttery feeling in her stomach was caused by the anger at being so blatantly objectified, not because he was flirting with her. His message went unanswered as she forced herself to calm down and get some sleep. This would prove a futile attempt, him once again making her too riled up and forcing her into yet another long and restless night.

-------

Taglist: if anyone wants to be tagged in future work let me know; @lovelornanonymity @mentallynot-here @wishing-i-was-rafes-princess @emeloyy @kanib45 @clinelyn @magnificantmermaid @hey-sunrisee @mannstarkey @harringtonstudios @totallynotkaibiased @popcrone818 @bookaholics-stuff @zzzina7 @fangirlwithlou @namelesssav @rafesxgold @cmac-writes @malfoytargaryen @alinaharlow @mveggieburger @theyluvmesblog @withbeautyandrage @sierrahhh @harrys-humble-housewife @piceous21 @vifuckingp @ditzyballerina @xoxo3m1ly @jessmaybank @whore-4-drewstarkey @palmwinemami @mew227 @dustbunniess @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @starkowswife @ietss @beansprout713 @tpwk-mia @starkeysbebe

#rafe cameron #my work #rafe cameron x reader #(not) my baby #nmb #drew starkey #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks fic #obx fanfiction #obx fic #obx #outer banks #fanfiction #enemies to lovers #fake dating

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1-49 · 10 months ago

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송은석 : Tell the cameraman there’s no good side, they’re both attractive.

❝ your ace, your king, your double diamond. your jack of all trades, your 100 and one shades.

ᴘᴀʀɪɴɢ: actor! song eunseok × actress f!reader.

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: romance. on set / gambling undertones as far as the film storyline goes. w.c 5k

two actors fatally ‘meet’ at a ��casino.’ with the narrative centering round the ‘value of the moment,’ as the story advances, the ‘love on set’ becomes more evident thru the cameras. as the director realizes this early on, all of his retakes serve as both the actors’ main obstacle and unifying force in achieving their individual & character’s goals.

ᴛᴀɢꜱ: slight mutual pinning (?) both are kinda confused; mixed signals, ofc flirting. makeout :) i had MMA Eunseok on mind while writing this... the gloves and all.

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: why i feel like everyones on sum Eunseok current rn? as if we re collectively riding that wave? am i not right? am i not!? it’s like homeboy was only getting comfortable up until now. or elsee y are his contents as of lately sooo attacking? idk why, but i feel like this type of situation goes so well w him?

this goes back and forth between the film’s plot and the real* on set setting. hope it’s not confusing

It feels like you’re wearing your seductive velvet dress just to let him down one more time. The never-ending takes of filming this movie and wearing the same clothes don’t help Eunseok at all; in fact, your attire has made him even more confused and hell crazed.

Drama, slash thriller, slash…

“Romance is for the weak,”

reads one of the script’s lines. Of course, there is nothing romantic about the way he has to portray the charismatic rival who must rob the same kingpin as you. You both need to be like loaded guns to figure out who will outsmart who. Without a doubt, this isn’t a game for the weak of heart.

Side from the fact that long shoots and endless days blur together, his constant presence both on and off set also distorts your perception and wounds your judgment. Though you know for a fact that it’s a waste of your time to catch vibes.

As you’re getting started & Eunseok is an A-list hitter, it is also completely out of the question. Moreover, even now, you find it surprising how you were cast for this role, but that was exactly what spurred you on to continue & demonstrate your abilities.

Though the weeks of filming went smoothly, as you 2 approach ‘a’ scene, tension is mounting.

But, now that you’re here, you’re reshooting and pacing around the same set of scenes, over and over. There is a clear build-up in tension and skin ship as the film goes. The way his hands would sometimes tighten around your waist, it seems like an old game. Practically, it’s the same same daily.

It’s as if you have been thrown into a loop for a week. Monday through Saturday, which seems excessively intense because you have to look into his big eyes and act unaffected, just like your character. To pretend that you’re razor-sharp when you two touch and to act as though nothing is happening.

The latest take you took was three hours ago, before your lunch. Venue: the casino.

The casino set is unique in that it has distinct widths and depths, & it’s a character unto itself.

You’re shooting at a real place—a candid gambling place with walls painted in every hue imaginable, which is the main ‘bait’ factor. Nevertheless, the place’s real undercurrent is that it has the power to literally tear apart a person. Here, time and space are merely ideas, and much like love, everyone in the plot keeps playing in the hopes of hitting a jackpot.

On the periphery are the people who have come here to escape reality, vibrant lights, music, drinks, and all things magnetic.

However, the more people indulge in these casino games, the more they immerse themselves in sin. The games have a concentric hierarchy, and the degree of wickedness increases gradually until it reaches the heart of the casino, where the money is kept in bondage and bound with a bloody ribbon.

In essence, the characters you and Eunseok play dance and mingle in the depths of hell.

As you both keep colliding in the games you play, what begins as an individual hunt becomes more focused. It’s the way that your objective in this round is to win jointly by lying. Still, at some point in the round, Eunseok’s character betrays you, but that is currently irrelevant, as you’re currently sitting on his lap.

And doing so, you scan the players in front of you. There are eight of them in total, some of whom have girls sitting on their laps as well. Some kiss, some clink their glasses, and some flirt with the person across. A ton of chips, cards, and cash are spread out across the poker table.

Your character remains silent, just like Eunseok’s does. Distraction is something that neither of you wants. However, the fact that you’re sitting on his lap makes this already a deranged situation.

Players sling remarks about your character around the table in an attempt to break Eunseok’s character’s nerve.

“When will it be our turn to have our round with her, at last, exactly when?” Gesturing you both, one of the group members says, perched on the edge of the poker table. “Hm? We may need to take some action because you don’t really share your food here. We may need to bring bad luck to attract her.” The actor laughs narratively, but there is seriousness in the corners of his bright eyes that makes it seem like he is really after you, and there is nothing Eunseok can do about that. It is an amazing acting delivery from him.

And while his remarks are only meant to irritate Eunseok’s character, why does it feel like they also irritate the real Eunseok? Because his leg begins to twitch uncontrollably under you.

In order to stop letting his emotions show and to keep his mind to the job in hand, he needs to snap back into character quickly. He remains to cage you in a respectful manner, though, as his arms aren’t in contact with you because they’re both on the table.

So you have no choice but to put up with the sensation of his breath tickling the back of your neck, and the heat that seeps from his thighs and settles into you.

You feel imprisoned in his cage... On this set.

And, you start to appreciate the little things, like the thicker material covering your flesh, since it seems like your skin is getting uncomfortably slippery under your dress.

Your back is glued to his chest, and his calm demeanor calms you down from the words and deeds of everyone around you—including the real extras from the close-up tables that swarm the set, adding realism to the scene and heightening the atmosphere.

You feel him place his hand on your thigh, something he has never done in previous takes of the scene, but he immediately lifts it. And as he moves his hand, the smooth surface of your dress wrinkles at the drag, making your heart want to leap out of your rib cage.

You lean forward until your elbows rest on the table in an attempt to escape the heat transfer that is becoming too strong between your bodies. More than that, there seems to be an off-energy between you two today that you can’t quite put your finger on. In either case, you’re unable to escape as his hand wraps around your waist and draws you back toward him. Simultaneously, it feels like his cold breath is making love to your throat as it swoops around your neck.

And so, you stay like this… in his arm... until he decides it’s enough, but Eunseok isn’t one to give up easily, so things continue this way. You simply can’t protest because that would ruin the scene.

However, even after going over the same scene several times, it didn’t stick, so the director agreed to let you unwind for the next few hours so that you could focus on the following scene.

And as absurd as it sounds, you might need to expend all of your energy on the next scene. You’ve become tired not just from your long work hours and endlessly repeated dialog lines, but also from being in too much close contact with him. And not to mention that the scene that follows is—

A loud “Action!” comes from somewhere across the room, past the cameras. You’re even deprived of the opportunity to summon all your bravery and take a deep breath. There is nothing you can do about the scene that is already in motion except follow your sync with Eunseok wherever it leads.

This time, the location is a 2nd floor room inside the casino with a glassed view of the floor below where all the ‘magic’ happens. In technical terms, the space you’re in right now is referred to as a ‘control room.’

Control…..

With just the two yellow-toned lamps—one in the corner and one on the metal desk—the room is completely soundproof and somewhat dim. Additionally, the window glass also only sees out but not in, which promises that all intimacy will be trapped inside and not let out.

…. If only you were allowed the right amount of privacy,

but this is a film set, so naturally there are people inside who practically monitor every move you and Eunseok make in great detail.

They… Control…..

His suit jacket, which he had on earlier in the casino, is now draped across the brown leather couch, giving you more intimate time together and expanding his range of motion. And it’s all done purposefully. Everything is a part of the plan, as he’s deliciously in tune with your dress, too.

His glistening velvet suit with diamond motifs fits the ‘rival notion,’ making him an ideal opponent—a fierce equal match for you. This is also reflected in the movie’s concept, which is to give the impression that this is a ‘pair game’ in which both of you are lying in order to get to the big ‘price.’

And all it takes to get there is for you to hurt each other in the process. There are jokes exchanged, teasing remarks, some lighter, some harsher, some even more vulgar, and swear words are thrown around, but neither of your characters ever lets up their confident façade. For they would be falling behind and losing the game if that were to occur.

As you gaze out the window, Eunseok is leisurely leaning against the desk, moving a silver-foil Ace of Hearts card between his black leather-gloved fingers and watching you.

The games themselves give an adrenaline rush, and the lavish, spacious hall downstairs draws in gamblers, but the whole point of the script for him is that you’re a thrill sight and his object of desire. For someone made of steel, your whole sense of appeal lies in the fact that you steal his breath.

The sleek black strapless velvet dress you’re wearing seems to be romanticized by the fake diamonds around the base of your neck. Your smoked eyes and glossed lips are your core points. You don’t long to impress. Your power lies in your strength and independence, but it’s also in elegance, solace, and trance. Another line says, ‘Simplicity is a killer,’ and you certainly are.

However, beneath it all, only you’re aware of how much of a mess you are because he is currently examining you.

... Still, it’s only acting. Eunseok is merely performing in his role as an actor. And, when acting, one can’t really let one’s true self show. As a result, cameras won’t be able to capture how hot you really feel inside or how confused; all you can hope for is that you don’t mess up your next set of lines.

And it’s that scene in the script where everything has built to a climax, and nothing is held back!

When neither of you can decide what brought you together—your shared dislike or your shared goal—and neither of you can explain the bad cues and inexplicable tension.

Where your personal schemes about who will get the ‘shiny stones’ first are screwed by your shared greed and cynicism.

When you two almost simultaneously blow up each other’s plans.

And wherein, in order to make this work for at least one of you, you have selected a room to talk about the remaining options. In this case, the smarter one will really only be the meaner one.

This finally concludes the exchange of hurtful comments; there will be no more!

The door is the most attractive option, and the room is perfectly silent. However, it simply indicates that the first person out has raised the white flag and signed their lost. It’s impossible for either of you to succumb so easily.

Simultaneously, your character is the first to break the dense silence.

“Do you know where we’re going?”

With a rephrased and pointed question, “Where are you going with this?,” you look up at him then, looking a little disappointed and angry at the same time.

Coolly, Eunseok teases, “I’m trying to figure out if I should call it quits.”

As an actor would, his hair is styled to perfection, and the two hair strands that fall into his eyes and give him a luscious appearance are actually just the result of the tireless efforts of the hair and makeup artists who never stop running after him.

You find yourself ‘out of set’ for a split second, wondering what he’s like by himself. How he appears when he wakes up in the morning, how his hair looks after taking a shower, and how his body is dressed in a baggy, worn-out shirt rather than rich pajamas. However, that’s rather a ‘faraway’ Eunseok.

But the present, Eunseok, does he read you?

“You’re only saying that. But I won’t take the bait from you.” Your character is merely attempting to remind his of how he deceived you during the previous poker round. “In fact, I wish you saw you from my view. You ain’t all that, you know?”

Eunseok’s cool and calm demeanor remains unshaken. In fact, he just keeps on getting cocky. Given that you’re affecting him in ways he doesn’t understand, it’s in his character's self-defense mechanism as a means of continuing to taunt your character.

“Really,” he responds, crossing his gloved hands. His vest lifts at his tiny waist, and he tilts his head to one side in a seductive manner. The tone of his voice has been pre-calculated; every syllable has been worked on in detail. His precision in looking at you, moving, and facial expressions is unparalleled.

“See, I’m good for the ego,” his words come across as too sultry, even though he’s the most soft-spoken he has ever been, “but I’m bad for the soul.”

If you two weren’t in front of the cameras, you’d have closed your eyes and allowed his words to give you goosebumps all over your body, but now isn’t the time to do that.

Not that they aren’t doing it already, either...

They’re actually doing that in real time. His voice, his eyes, and his tongue that digs and crawls at the inside of his cheek.

Just a cold-blooded actor. With every take, this terrifyingly skilled individual sends chills down your spine. You almost get the impression that he’s seriously flirting with you because of how excellently he is delivering his role. Nevertheless, the line is exceedingly thin, and the narrative is already in the script. Is it not?

You protest, looking frustrated, saying, “Your games are endless,” yet still simultaneously approaching him more closely to show that you aren’t afraid of him.

Actually, you and him are on the same level. And to add spice to the situation, you say, “However, this time, we both know that you’re going to lose.”

Waving the metallic Ace of Hearts card in your face, his quick silver tongue catches your attention as it runs along his lips. In an attempt to look impressive and put an end to the questions, Eunseok nonchalantly admits, “I like the games I play.”

Although you must maintain your image and stay in character, all you really want is for all of this to end. You can’t take this and him anymore, like the weeks of filming together have reached a breaking point. You want to scream, ‘Cut!’ to put an end to this suffering, but you can’t fail your dream or let your character down either.

It’s as though you’re developing feelings for someone who isn’t even real. As though you are losing all feeling of reality as you observe him from up close. And because you know what is coming up next, you’re damn sure that Eunseok will take a piece of you with him when the lights go out and the cameras stop rolling, and everything is said and done.

Trouble…

It’s in his perfectly lethal-hued dark eyes. In the way the lamp light hits his eyes that makes him look so enticing, like a glass of whiskey on a thirsty day of never being enough. Intoxicating. Mysterious. Dangerous. A glass of trouble, really, and you’re fastly becoming a growing alcoholic.

The narrative he tells you hurts as his words continuously fall from his gorgeous lips and seep into your thoughts and emotions like melted wax.

“The truth is, you can’t get enough of me.” Eunseok’s same eye-level with you decreases as he straightens up from the desk and now gazes a little down at you, imposing a slight dominance. He lifts his gloves, causing some veins in his arms to bulge between where the gloves end and his white rolled dress shirt begins.

Without consent, his gloved fingers begin to crawl upward the inside part of your naked arm, waking goosebumps on their way. The trace is slow and faint, but that is exactly what he wants—for you to disintegrate bit by bit.

“Admit it,” he prompts.

He’s being pretty sadistic and adamant by insisting that you know that he knows how you feel about him; which is precisely the situation, and it leaves you feeling so exposed.

And it’s as if his proximity, presence, and dominance have completely eroded you, your character ‘breaks character’ as it succumbs to his dark charms.

You two are so close that you can understand each other perfectly, even in whispers right now. So you fire back in a private voice, “If I cared more about the truth,” miserable and defeated, “I’d be too aware of who was using who.”

In response, all he does is smirk,

and after making his way to your shoulders, he subtly brushes his thumb along your collarbone. Heat is generated by the tiny friction, and much like a fire match is struck, it ignites sparks in the air.

His hand then moves to brush some hairs away from your face and tuck them behind your ear. The black leather of his glove begins to skim first, then caress your delicate skin and the left side of your face.

His eyes pierce your soul like a knife, so you look from them to his lips, breaking eye-contact. They lust for touch and have a unique, attractive shape.

“Stop!” You voice out in shock at what he’s doing, but do nothing. His gloved fingertips continue to graze your face.

“Wonderfull,” he comments silently.

Your brain is fried...

And while in a daze, you notice that his tie is a little loose around his collar.

For some reason, this makes you feel compelled to tighten it, sealing the last bit of separation between the two of you. Eunseok’s brows furrow in concern as he realizes that this isn’t at all included in the script. Although this is blatant improvisation, the performance must continue as long as the director doesn’t yell cut.

You can understand why his free hand, which lends on your waist, is gripping you so tightly and nervously. He kind of breaks his neck shyly smiling away from you before turning back to face you...

Again, something the scene steps don’t cover.

“It was out of pl—”

‘ace,’ it’s what you attempt to offer as an explanation while the camera is rolling, but you don’t finish saying it... Your mouth stays agape in contrast.

You opened it with an intention, got distracted, and now you hold it open with a fresh thought.

...Him.

Your lip gloss is a mirror of his tiny diamond-studded vest’s sparkle, as are his eyes, which reflect your phoney diamond necklace.

‘How’d you get so pretty?’ Your mind stutters and your body shudders, yet the line is plain to see as it’s painted on your lips—ready to perform, ready to be spoken. How do you allow yourself to say it, though?

But for real, when did his lips become this pretty?

It’s challenging to discern which aspect of yourself feels and which acts. There is a messed-up intersection where your character throbs with the need to kiss his character, and you throb with the need to kiss him.

Can he feel it? Are you obvious? Does anyone in the room have the ability to see right through you, as though you’re a transparent bottle filled with all these bottled wicked wants and needs?

Under the necklace, the skin on your neck contracts, relaxes, and contracts once more.

Your lips begin to quiver as the cold leather finally slides beneath your chin. Lifting it, your eyes are drawn back to meet his. You’re painfully aware that it’ll only take a single kiss to weaken a million truths.

“Fuck,” he utters as he begins to brush your lips, causing the leather to become sticky from the shiny gloss.

Taking back his hand, he starts to rub and then separate his thumb and index finger, examining the degree of stickiness between them. He sighs, “You’re making me want to suggest that we steal those stones together.”

“I’m not stealing any stones with y—”

“I know, I know,” he says, interrupting. “But almost…”

Eunseok looks directly at you and presses his tacky gloved thumb to his lips.....

The flawless pair of strands that get in the way of his eyes symbolize his seriousness while his tongue begins to pick up and taste any bits of whatever is still on his lips…

The intimacy is revolting, but you aren’t even given a chance to die from all the obscenities he’s doing as he continues.

“You are,” his voice becomes quieter as he speaks, “almost making me want to do it.”

His lips draw nearer. His breath is what you inhale.

“Almo—”

As soon as his lips touch yours, the rest of the sentence disappears. Just as your glittery, dark eyeshadow is captured in perfect detail on camera, his splattered letters perfectly entangle in your mouth.

Unsurprisingly, he gives you a desperate kiss with hands that dig into your waist.

The greatest corruption imaginable is a kiss that says, “If you aren’t mine, then I’m making you mine!” A kiss that puts your life and breath in danger. A kiss that tears through the façade and the acting mask, growing ever more dangerously real.

What’s worse is that having spent so much time with him, it’s so evident when he’s unable to pretend. And currently, he surely cannot!

He cannot act as though his lips aren’t needy or that his skin isn’t becoming hotter. Or that when he pulls your body more into his and presses his tongue deeper inside your mouth, his body isn’t trembling just a little bit.

Your hands slip off his shoulders and latch onto this vest, tugging on it just a little bit, even hanging on to it desperately for the life he’s stealing from you.

His heart is pounding beneath your hand, which is hard to comprehend considering that an actor with his level of training shouldn’t even flinch when filming a kissing scene. More so than anyone else, Eunseok exudes an air of magnetism despite being largely composed of steel. The fact that you’re seeing him partially fall apart for the first time is mind-boggling.

It’s truly insane what only a kiss can reveal. And of anything, it isn’t fast. For this is something that you should feel, just as the audience should when it’s their turn.

You whine his character’s name in between kisses, only slightly conscious that you’re still in the heat of filming this scene. However, he just hushes you, nuzzles your nose gently against his, and continues. His low, pretty pants and foul moans layer at your throat, just as yours in his.

Given how far out of script you two are at this point, you’re certain the director has had enough by now and will call it quits at any moment, but that never happens.

It’s gross how much of Eunseok’s tongue encircles yours while his cute nose wrinkles and brushes against yours. It all makes you want him even more. For the worst part, he smiles through it. It’s quite vile since he knows exactly what he’s doing.

You can feel his lips burn from the constant, wild collisions. And his scent seeps into your nostrils. That much is certain: it’ll be difficult to forget this—to forget him.

“Do you—Do you?” he stammers, pressing his lips to yours as he breathes heavily and squeezes your waist so forcefully that you fear his hands will split you in two.

Since it’s an entirely improvised line, he eventually comes up with the right combination of words. “Have you indulged in this fantasy before? Have you—Have you ever thought about kissing me?”

Even though Eunseok’s words are already weighing heavily on your heart and lips, he adds even more bitterness by saying, “You definitely have.” He answers his own question by not even giving you an opportunity to respond.

But then, is it untrue?

Of course not, as you feel the weakness in your knees. You find it somewhat unfair that he has granted himself a space where he’s fusing reality and fiction.

You fight, “It’s—” while making an effort to escape and resist his lips, “It’s just this time,” but it’s mediocre at best.

As you step back away from him, his hands hopelessly slip off your waist and slide back to his side. They appear empty-looking, as though they don’t own anything of value, like something was snatched from their possession.

Now, empty handed, Eunseok is back gripping the metal of the desk. It isn’t like it’s just you who is feeling the effects of those frenzied kisses; he has definitely lost his breath too. His lips are pretty roused and ‘used-looking’, much like after an intense makeout, while the tips of his ears throb as they peek out from under his dark hair.

He somewhat manages to come up with another line even though his fairly strong defensive system is down.

“Then perhaps it’s just been my imagination all those times I thought I felt you thinking about me.”

Your mouth drops open at the same time as the director cries out,

“CUT! Beautiful! Beautiful!” He waves his hands in all directions proudly. “That take was spot-on perfect; we’re done here. I got everything I want here”, he says, tapping the big camera that some other guy is holding, and also exclaiming, “One take. It only took one take!” with excitement. “Excellent improvisation! Reshooting would only sour the spark.” He then successfully clasps his hands and says, “That’s a wrap, everyone!”

You’re left standing in front of Eunseok, glassy-eyed, quite sensitive, and shocked, but optimistic that what the two of you just did is still partially justified by your acting profession.

It looks like he’s blinking more than normal; and blinking is undoubtedly one of the patterns Eunseok exhibits when he’s nervous, which you’ve noticed throughout the months that you’ve been working with him. He also seems to be in denial, with confused lines painted on his temple.

Both him and you stay motionless while looking at each other as the director talks about the scene with a different staff member, his voice only sounding faint and far away in your ear.

“I like a good chase in a scene. To me, that’s everything. The actors must have a compelling chemistry and be aware of their roles. They must have trust in each other and their actions, because making a film is similar to a construction site, it must be built. It’s more than a camera, lights, and action.” Taking off his baseball cap, he gives himself a head stretch. “Trust me… what these two have is lethal.”

The longer the director keeps making observations, the more of the ‘real’ Eunseok is in your presence. Adorable, nervous smiles, head turns, and motions; knitted brows that enlarge his eyes even more. It’s as if he has softened his human side, opened his heart, and ‘thrown his metallic armour away.’

Finally, after hearing the comments, he sort of hisses with a ‘Really?’ while tilting his head to the side and putting on a cute, sarcastic look of suspicion.

“Are you okay?” You ask him in a gentle tone, concerned because it appears he’s thinking through and repeating every step of the scene.

He nods, but his face still wears that expression of shock mixed with denial, and a slight, but still noticeable, shy spark in the far back of his ever so silver persona. It seems like he’s coming to terms with everything that just happened, and he’s still quite riding out the wave.

Now that he has had a taste of how you kiss, it’s quite impeccable how you can bite down like an enemy and later be tender to all of those marks like a friend.

You’re high-key giving him so much more to think about—so many more thoughts to deal with than what the sight of you in your dress had already done for him up to this point.

‘Romance’ slash ‘No Control’ slash ‘Trouble!’

So many twists and turns until the conclusion, but the scene is now over.

The drama is done. The ‘acting’?

Done!

You’ll be taking off your makeup and dressing down, but the characters you just played will still exist within the both of you. That despite the fact that it seems like you two will be avoiding dealing with this for the time being, you’re both actors, and currently, the cost of your acting is your sanity.

Starting today, heartthrob actor Eunseok won’t only continue to cause headaches to the millions of girlies who have his posters hung above their beds, but to you as well.

‘.....Nice.’

#riize #eunseok #song eunseok #riize scenarios #riize fanfic #riize imagines #riize x reader #riize fic #riize x y/n #riize fluff #riize suggestive #eunseok x reader #eunseok scenarios #eunseok imagines #eunseok fluff #eunseok fanfic #song eunseok fanfic #riize oneshots

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word-wytch · 2 years ago

Text

Don't Stand So Close To Me — Chapter 13

Eddie x Teacher!Reader

Chapter 13/? 8.4k. Series Masterlist

✏︎ Catalyst — an agent that provokes or speeds significant change or action.

✏︎ Series Summary: Forced to move back home to Hawkins after your fiancé cheats on you, you begin to fall in love again with an audacious 20 year old metalhead, only there’s one problem — he’s still in high school and you’re his English teacher.

While you struggle starting over in a place you never thought you would return, Eddie struggles feeling stuck in a place he can’t manage to leave — until you offer to help him. Of all the lessons learned, the most important are the ones you teach each other.

✏︎ Series CW: forbidden romance, slow burn, true love, smut (18+ mdni), internal conflict, student-teacher relationship, 10 year age gap, mutual pining, sexual tension, emotions, drama, angst, character development, happy ending :)

Chapter warnings: angst, drama, implied partner abuse, harm to fantasy creature

Monday, December 9th 1985

Eddie propped his cheek against his knuckles as he watched you from the back of the classroom, just like he did every day. You were radiant on this one, brimming with excitement as you lectured on your favorite subject.

“We’re still in the planning phase for our short stories, but now that you all have a general idea of what you want to write about, I want you to start putting together an outline,” you prompted.

His eyes traced down the back of your blouse to where it met the waistline of your trousers. His hands still itched to hold you there. Burned was a better word now. He watched your hand scratch words onto the board with a nub of chalk, following the bend and curve of your fingers as they formed letters.

The past three weeks had been much of the same. You and him, behind the big desk every Monday and Wednesday after school. You; trying to focus on his schoolwork. Him; trying to focus on you. You; letting him get away with it.

There was plenty of studying happening too. In between studying the curve of your lips, the hue of your laugh, and the bones of your knuckles under his thumb, there were shining moments were something would click and he would solve an equation. Perhaps it was something to do with memory association or whatever textbook word you used to describe the psychology of learning, but something about the way you presented things made it easier for him to absorb. Perhaps it was your gentle patience, or your intuition. Knowing when to press forward and when to back off. Knowing how to show something differently than he’d been taught. Maybe it was just sweeter coming from your lips instead of Ms. O’Donnell’s.

Eddie shifted in his desk as you clicked the end of your sentence against the board with a flourish. Stretching against the confines of the tiny chair, he hunched over the slab wood barely big enough to fit his notebook, and picked up his own chewed utensil to copy what you’d written. Maybe it was the bulk of his jacket, thicker and warmer with padding for winter, but suddenly he felt claustrophobic.

You whipped around brightly to face the class. “Alright, who remembers what three things inform character action?”

The question was met with restless silence. A cough. A sniffle.

With a defeated sigh, you turned back around to scratch desires, fears, and misbeliefs onto the board.

Glancing out the window at the pale grey sky and naked trees, Eddie counted on his fingers the number of months until there would be leaves on them again.

Five.

He just knew it would be an agonizing winter. One that dragged on and on, long after the groundhog saw its shadow. Huffing, he stared down at his beat up spiral notebook, blue lines blurring in his tired vision. The pen went slack in his hand. He closed his eyes and listened to your voice.

“I know these are short stories, but in the end something should have changed internally or interpersonally for your characters as a result of the plot. Remember, the plot is what happens, the story is how it affects the characters,” you said, jotting down the last bit.

It took on a different tone in front of the class. More rigid and professional, louder so it carried to the back of the room. It lacked the warmth and softness that it held when he was next to you. He imagined, for a sweet moment, how it would sound even closer; against the shell of his ear as you breathed a sigh beneath him. The gentle feather of your lips as they traveled south, just below his ear, where his jaw met his neck. In the playground of his mind, he could show you what a man he really was. Here, his hands were free to wander wherever they wanted; dip into the valleys of your clavicles, over the hills of your breasts, around the bend of your waist, the peaks of your hips, the mound of your—

A snicker broke his reverie. When he opened his eyes, Jason’s were already on him.

“Taking a nap, Munson?” he mouthed mockingly.

Eddie rolled his eyes and seethed as he glared down at his notebook again. He shifted against the back of the hard plastic chair, against the tight cage of the desk. Finding no relief, he huffed and stared blankly ahead at the chalkboard, at the beige concrete wall, at the big desk, and then—at you. The gap had never been more enormous. An ocean of desks, a gaping chasm between where he was and where he wanted to be.

He must have looked downright pitiful, because the look you returned brimmed with a soft concern. In the two seconds he held you, Eddie released a deep sigh. Then you were back to the board.

“L-let’s start by highlighting the main point of each scene,” you said quickly, turning as you cleared your throat. Eddie caught your hand dart behind your neck before it fell promptly to your side. “Basically, why a scene exists and what it needs to accomplish. Does it provide information about the characters or move the story forward? Remember, these are short stories, so we want to make each scene really count.”

Eddie gripped the chewed pen and dutifully copied what you wrote. He knew he could have asked you later, had you explain it all again, given him tips, and pointers, and strategies, even helped him with his outline. But he wanted you to see that he was trying. He wanted you to see that he cared. He was always bad at school. Bad at paying attention. Bad at turning in assignments. Bad at following rules and keeping his mouth shut.

He wanted to be good for you.

When the bell rang, chair legs screeched against tile, notebooks crinkled, zippers ripped open and shut in a frenzied cacophony. Eddie hung back until the room filtered out. Until the only person left was you. Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he padded up the long isle of desks until he reached yours. A standard routine.

“Hey,” he said, just like every other day. Just to savor another couple seconds in your presence, alone.

You looked up at him from the mess on your desk as you did countless times before, same tired smile, same soft eyes, same response. “Hey.”

Eddie rocked back and forth on his heels, holding your gaze for a little too long. “I’ll—uh, I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Your face grew bright and warm, a glint of summer against the pale, grey sky. “Yeah, see you later, Eddie.”

There it was, the thing he really came for — his name. He sighed a smile and gave a single nod, turning slowly toward the door.

______

By the time he made it to chemistry class, Eddie was ready for a nap. Maybe it was the pizza that sat like a rock in the pit of his stomach. Maybe it was the fact that, yet again, he had stayed up entirely too late, lost in your world.

But he couldn’t just stop, not when Cybelle was being attacked by a ferocious fenfink — like a weasel, only much larger. Sharper claws, bigger teeth, and fatally attracted to something Cybelle had on her person. They were packing up camp in the morning when it happened. Perhaps it had been drawn to the smell of sweet Myrnish breakfast cakes, or the herbs stuffed inside Cybelle’s mask, or perhaps it was her gold amulet that sparkled in the glow of the fire. In hindsight, they really should have picked up a sword in Fenwood. Not that Lazarus had ever swung one. Not that he would trust himself to when the beast was grappling with the neckline of Cybelle’s coat as she struggled to fling it off her. Too much movement. Too many opportunities to miss. Instead, Lazarus had done the only thing he could manage to do in a panic, which is to grab the animal’s back and try to pry it off.

The path through the boglands was narrow with small allowance for a camp site. On either side lay deep, murky water spotted with mounds of moss and pale, petrified trees. The fenfink didn’t give up easy. It tore at her silk with its claws, sniffing and growling at her crescent moon mask as Lazarus tugged at its furry body. As Cybelle’s boots threatened stumble back over the berm of the trail and into the wet abyss, Lazarus tugged as hard as he could, but the animal snatched a lifeline; a shiny gold chain that glimmered in the pale blue light of the early morning.

It bent Cybelle forward at the neck. Time froze as her golden promise, his future, dangled in the space between them. Her hands fumbled at the animal’s rear claws to unlatch them from her abdomen. Eyes desperate, mask askew, Lazarus knew what he had to do. One good yank and the chain would break. She would be free, and he could hurl the beast into the bog to buy them time. He knew it could be done, in theory. What would become of the treasure, however, would be left entirely to fate.

In the glittering twinkle, he saw his cottage, his garden, his full size bed, his curtains billowing in the salty air. It swayed and skirted across the taught chain, dangling dangerously close to the edge of the murky water.

With a strangled cry, Cybelle worked the claws free of her dress, and he was left with a split second to decide. The golden tether winked in the fire’s glow. Fear flickered in her umber eyes. With a firm, decided tug, Lazarus broke the chain. Time slowed to a halt as the glimmering treasure launched upward with the force of it all. Cybelle stumbled back over the berm, grasping desperately at the air. It followed the arc that she took, hovering just out of reach. She just about bumped it with her fingertip, but the cold, wet shock at her back knocked the wind out of her.

Lazarus watched his dreams tumble into the water, helpless to stop it. As he grappled with the snarling beast, his eyes caught the last golden glimmer of hope before it plunked beneath the inky surface of the bog. He pivoted quickly, launching the creature in a heartbroken rage, and it flailed in the air before its headfirst collision with a tree scattered the birds for miles.

A wet, sobbing cough from the other side of path sent him scrambling toward it. Cybelle was a mess. Clambering on her knees, waist deep in a peaty, black filth that soaked through her gold coat. Her hands raked desperately, blindly, at the thick decay beneath the murky water.

Lazarus stumbled over the mossy ledge and into the bog, extending his hand, but she could not meet his eyes.

“I-I can find it,” she choked, sucking what little breath she could muster as the soaked fabric clung to her face. “It-it is somewhere here… I heard it.”

His heart sunk deeper than the treasure. “Please, Cybelle,” he pleaded.

“I can find it,” she insisted weakly, and another desperate grasp beneath the water sent her tumbling further down.

He dove in after her then, sinking deep into the muck to grab her by the waist before she slipped beneath the surface. Cybelle was persistent, twisting in his arms as sobs shook her tiny body. He simply gripped her tighter, drawing her toward his chest and out of the water. Her struggles paled to his strength.

“Please,” she whimpered, stamping his white linen shoulders with muddy hands. “I can—I can…” she could barely catch a breath, silk crescent now crooked and blackened with peat.

With both arms clasped tightly around her back, Lazarus shushed her. “It’s gone, Cybelle.” He could not hide the mourning in his voice.

She shut her eyes with a defeated grimace and went limp. Tears burned her lash line as she sobbed against his chest. They opened when she felt a finger brush behind her ear. Gingerly, slowly, Lazarus hooked his fingers through the loop of her mask, eyes darting back and forth between hers in a wordless request for permission. Her stillness granted it, and with that, he peeled it away.

In the pale blue light of the early morning, waist deep in muck and mire, Lazarus saw Cybelle. Not for the first time ever, but for the first time like this. Raw, and ragged, and inches apart. She inhaled deeply, freely, and for the first time when she breathed out, there were no barriers between them. They stood there a moment in a captivated stillness with nothing but the hum of frogs and song of birds.

Cybelle was the one to break the silence. “We might as well turn around then,” she wavered bitterly. “I have…” her breath hitched, “nothing to offer you.”

Lazarus sighed, shaking his head as he raked in her soft features. “Your company,” he began, “is enough.”

Cybelle shut her eyes, blinking tears over her lashes to streak trails through her the dirt on her cheeks, and for the first time, her muddy arms drew around his waist, and she embraced him.

Eddie pressed his heated forehead to the cool slate of the lab table and shifted his stool back against the floor with a loud screech. Images of fenfinks, and pendants, and bog mire danced behind his eyelids. He could hear the weary exhaustion in Mr. Westfield’s voice. He didn’t even need to look up to know he was leaning against his desk and running his hand through his thinning hairline as he’d done a hundred times before at the top of sixth period.

“Alright, so today we’re going to be creating magnesium oxide. Magnesium plus oxygen. Get it?” The question was answered with sleepy eyes and a few stray sniffles. Mr. Westfield sighed. “Right. Since the school can’t afford enough bunsen burners for all of you, this week you’ll be splitting up into pairs.”

The room came alive, eyes meeting eyes as claims flew across the room. Eddie peeked over his arms at the table in front of him. Tina was practically falling out of her stool as she reached for Chrissy on the other side of the room with grabby hands.

Mr. Westfield looked thoroughly unamused by the commotion. “I’ll be assigning them.”

The classroom groaned almost unanimously.

“Hate to be a party pooper,” he started, his tone indicating quite the opposite, “but you’re here to learn, not to chit-chat. Ok, let’s see here…” Mr. Westfield adjusted his glasses on his nose as he scanned down the list of names in his attendance book.

A restless silence fell over the room as the students awaited their fate.

“Looks like we have an even number, excellent. Tina, you’ll be with Bobby.”

Eddie could see Tina’s eyes roll through the back of her head.

Mr. Westfield peered up from his glasses. “Don’t act so excited. Ok, then we’ll have Ricky and Carmen, Sally and Janae…” he went down the list of names, checking them off and scribbling them on the side of the sheet to keep track.

Eddie sat up and glanced around the room as pairs were made, mentally checking off classmates as their names were called, ears perked and primed to hear his own. As the ones who remained dwindled and dwindled down to only two, his pulse quickened.

“Ok and then that just leaves Ms. Cunningham,” he punctuated with his pen, “and Mr. Munson.”

Fuck.

Eddie turned his head slowly, reluctantly, toward the other side of the room where Chrissy Cunningham sat, and was met with a soft, coy smile. He swallowed and whipped his head to face forward.

Un-fucking believable. If there was a God, which Eddie sincerely doubted, he sure had a twisted sense of humor.

Since their brief confrontation in the hallway following Tina’s Halloween party, Chrissy had, to his honest surprise, respected his wishes and kept her distance. It never stopped her from looking though. Stares, he would discover, were something you could feel. Burning into his temple from behind the curtain of his hair in class, heating the back of his neck at his locker as her perfume wafted up the hall. It was almost a daily occurrence.

As the classroom rearranged itself in a cacophony of screeching stools and shuffling backpacks, Eddie remained planted right were he was, thumbing at the bent spiral of his notebook, mind racing as his eyes glazed over. It was less than a minute before he smelled that familiar perfume and heard the stool next to him scoot against the floor.

“Hey,” came a voice like powdered sugar.

Eddie looked up from his notebook with a slow hesitance. “Hey.”

“I…grabbed you some safety glasses and an apron,” she said, setting the items on the counter.

Silently lamenting the idea of spending the remaining hour wearing them, he gave a single nod and thanked her.

The room bustled with chatter as Mr. Westfield came around to dole out the bunsen burners, crucibles, scales, and other small tools. “You got a hair tie, Munson?” he asked.

Eddie patted himself down and feigned disappointment. “Fresh out I’m afraid.”

“I’ve got one,” Chrissy interjected, rolling a powder blue scrunchie from her wrist to swing from the curve of her finger.

Eddie stared at it a second as it dangled in the space between them before snatching it. “Thanks,” he conceded. As he twisted the satin band around his curls to form a low ponytail, he could feel the heat from her gaze. It lingered as he put on his goggles, even as he tied the ribbons of the stiff apron behind his back.

Wayne, perceptive as ever, had been right all those years ago outside the auditorium. He did, at eleven, have a crush on Chrissy Cunningham, but there were only so many times a person could ignore him before he got the memo. Before he figured out he wasn’t worth their time. It wasn’t the first time it happened. In fact, Eddie had become so accustomed to getting looked through instead of at that he’d made it a lifestyle to stand out. To talk loud, and dress loud, and play loud. To bite back, and shirk rules, and cause a scene. And over the course of a year he barely remembered, he’d left whatever feelings he might have had for her exactly where they belonged; in the graveyard with everything else he would rather forget.

But for some reason this year was different. He wasn’t sure what switch flipped that caused her to suddenly see him. Maybe it was because she was tired of her meathead boyfriend and needed a distraction. Maybe it was because he looked especially dangerous this year. Maybe it was because he’d been held back so many times that he’d become more forbidden than ever; an odd and tempting fascination.

Eleven year old Eddie would have been elated. Twenty year old Eddie was, to put it simply, annoyed.

Mr. Westfield returned to the front of the classroom to give instruction, and Eddie tried his best to follow along with the handout.

The room sparked to life with the hiss of gas and the whump of it igniting from all corners. As the tall flame dance in front of him, Eddie tried to ignore the little voice in the back of his head that tempted him to dangle the sleeve of his flannel a little too close so he could escape to the nurse’s office. Freshman Eddie wouldn’t have thought twice.

Chrissy turned on the scale between them and set the empty clay crucible on top of it as instructed. She leaned in to record the weight and copied it onto her worksheet. Eddie did the same. According to the worksheet, the next step was to add the magnesium and weigh it again.

“Make sure the coil isn’t too tight,” advised Mr. Westfield, “you’re gonna want to leave room for air.”

Eddie picked up the clay triangle, doing his best to stay focused on the task, and set it on the metal ring above the flame as demonstrated.

“I think the ring is too high,” said Chrissy, leaning in to twist the clamp loose enough to lower it. “It’s gotta be like, in the blue part of the flame I think.” Her arm grazed his as she reached into his bubble, and suddenly he was back on that couch, feeling the her phantom fingers on the pins of his vest again, gold halo crooked, lips ghosting cherry alcohol. Eddie shot his gaze forward.

“Ok, now place the crucible in the center of the triangle,” Mr. Westfield instructed.

Eddie grabbed hold of the metal tongs and used them to pinch the pale clay vessel. Chrissy leaned closer as he lowered it to rest above the flame.

Then they would wait. In the waiting, the classroom grew louder. Tina stood by her stool, arms crossed, eyes cast sideways in annoyance as Mr. Westfield came over to address the lack of flame coming out of her bunsen burner.

Eddie sat there in tense silence, eyes fixed forward as the flame licked the crucible with its blue heat.

“You know, this definitely beats equations,” Chrissy remarked with a soft chuckle.

He couldn’t really argue with that. Eddie didn’t say that though, instead he just nodded quietly.

“Say um,” Chrissy thumbed at the gummy eraser of her pencil, “Jason hasn’t given you any trouble, has he?”

Resentment rose up from the graveyard. “Define trouble,” he groused.

Chrissy sighed. “He can be a real asshole sometimes,” she admitted, to his surprise.

Eddie took a deep breath. It was vivid — the way she stumbled off that couch. How she nearly tripped over her own shoes. How Jason barked at her. The crazed look in his eyes. The fear in hers. “Sometimes?” he bit back.

Chrissy toyed at the hem of her skirt. “He’s not all bad.”

He wasn’t sure if it was the inflection of her voice, or the way her eyes cast down in shameful denial, but it transported him — all the way back to that small kitchen table, feet dangling from the chair as the red wax in his hand filled in the flame from a dragon’s mouth. He could see his mother in the kitchen doorway, her finger coiled tightly around the telephone cord, uttering the same words to a concerned voice on the other end.

Eddie hardened his lips and shook his head bitterly. “Yeah, well, doesn’t make him good.”

“Alright folks, listen up,” Mr. Westfield called out, drawing the attention of the class. “Next you’ll add the oxygen by lifting the lid to let some air in.”

With a sudden, determined movement, Chrissy reached across him to grab the tongs, bracing herself against the slate table. She gave them a few clicks before pinching the handle to lift the small, clay lid. A reaction occurred; blinding and white, igniting the gap between crucible and lid in a flickering flare.

They jumped back in unison.

“Try not to stare,” advised Mr. Westfield with monotone enthusiasm. “You could damage your eyes.”

Timely advice. Eddie blinked the white dots that clung to his vision away, and a smile caught him by surprise, betraying his steely resolve.

Chrissy caught it, and her sea green eyes found his from across the bunsen burner as she lowered the lid again. “That was awesome,” she whispered wildly.

It was kind of cool, he had to admit. He would take playing with fire over staring numbly at numbers on a page any day. Eddie peered over the rim of his plastic safety glasses and offered a tentative smile.

The heating continued, allowing for air every once in a while until finally there was no more reaction. There wasn’t much to say. Eddie removed the crucible from the burner. Chrissy added water from the pipette until the contents formed a paste. Eddie returned the crucible to the heat. The water evaporated. In the silence of their cooperation, in the passing of tools and scribbling of notes, Eddie wondered how long it would be before Chrissy came to her own conclusions. If she would ever figure out that even though Jason wasn’t all bad, she could do so much better.

Not with him, but on her own.

Clutching the crucible in the tongs, Chrissy set it on the scale for the final time. They both copied the weight onto their worksheets — different than when they started.

With five minutes to the bell, the cleanup was frenzied; a clammer of equipment hastily returned to shelves and boxes backdropped against the hissing water of half a dozen sinks. Even Mr. Westfield had given up on volume control in favor of tidiness. Eddie rid himself of the dreaded apron and goggles just in time for the bell to ring, and with that he snatched his backpack from the floor and followed the flow of his classmates out the door.

It wasn’t until he made it to the hallway that he remembered. Reaching back behind his neck, he felt it; ruffled satin. The owner was only a few feet ahead, ponytail swaying in ruffled white cotton as she walked.

“Chrissy!”

Her footsteps slowed, eyes brimming with a coy mischief that shot dread down his spine when turned against traffic to face him.

______

“Outlines are due on Friday,” you called to your class as you wiped down the board, a cloud of chalk dusted the air as you swiped the soft eraser over the letters. Like the wave of a magic wand, the bell had turned your practically snoring class into an eruption of noise. Before you could hear a pin drop, now you had to shout. With two periods left in the day, you wondered how many more times you would answer the same question. How many more times you would ask one only to be met with coughs and tired eyes.

Your feet hurt. Even the boots you had chosen for comfort and practicality were causing an ache in the soles of them, the hard heel putting too much pressure on your own. The lukewarm coffee you’d savored during fifth period had long since run its course through you. Glancing up at the clock, you realized you had about five minutes to take care of business or be forced to suffer for the duration of seventh period as well. Setting down the eraser, the decision was easy.

Your tired feet clicked down the crowded hallway with a sense of urgency that seemed to evade the rest of traffic. Scent pockets of perfume, mint gum, cigarettes, and body odors wafted through the air as you hurried past the rows of slamming lockers, dodging a pair of students overcome with the temptation to roughhouse, one grabbing the other by the backpack and yanking, sprinting ahead so his friend couldn’t catch him. You sighed, voice too tired to conjure discipline.

As you picked up on that strange, familiar scent of the approaching science lab, your eyes, like a magnet, were drawn to a familiar silhouette, standing just outside the door. You would have recognized him anywhere, picked him out of a crowd of thousands. Flutters bloomed in your chest. His long, dark curls bounced as he shook them out with his hand, like he was scratching the back of his head.

It was enchanting; the way he did just about anything. The way he moved, his sharp elbows and quick hands, the bright timbre of his voice, how his energy could shift on a dime from a soft breeze to a ripping gust.

The past three weeks had been much of the same. Conversations that strayed from educational to casual. Lingering glances. Secret touches. Stolen moments. Never speaking the truth of your heart. Never offering more than your hand.

The flow of students swept you forward, and as you passed, a figure emerged from behind where his shoulders obscured. In the seconds that slowed to a crawl, your eyes gathered volumes.

Strawberry blonde, petite, clutching a book to her soft, white cardigan. Sparkling eyes under soft blue shadow, cocked head, fluttering lashes, a smile bright enough to draw a moth.

Craning your neck back as traffic surged, you searched for his eyes.

Eddie didn’t see you.

You blinked, hard, and snapped your gaze forward over the sea of students as your heart leapt into your throat.

It was fine.

Click.

It was nothing.

Click.

He’s allowed to talk to people.

Click.

He didn’t see you.

Click.

Of course not, it’s crowded.

Click.

It burned, like the image was seared into your retinas. Her clean, white sneaker coyly toeing at the tile. Teeth that teased at plump, pink lips. Heavy lidded eyes. Arched back. Delicate fingers curled around a textbook spine. You tried to blink it away.

It was fine. It was nothing.

You rounded the corner for the faculty bathroom, relieved to find it empty, and shut yourself inside. The tried old light bathed the room in a yellow wash. You locked the door and stood there for a moment, heart racing, chest heaving in the quiet reprieve from the bells, lockers, and voices. Space for your thoughts to grow louder as you went about your business.

Why shouldn’t he talk to some girl? There was nothing wrong with that. In the glimpse that you caught of his face, it was lacking in distinct expression. Listening. Nothing worth noting. It was hers that really stuck with you. Her rosy cheeks and perky ponytail. The way she batted her eyes and licked her lips like she wanted to make a meal out of him.

Eddie Munson; summer wind. Tall and roguish, charming and animated, full of surprises. It was shocking he was single. Downright unbelievable that no other woman in this entire school would harbor any feelings. There had to be at least a handful that cast shy gazes as they passed him in the hallway. At least a few that floated curious whispers across lunch tables. In the dark corners of your imagination you had always figured, you’d just never seen it. And now the image wouldn’t leave you. Sticky. Clinging like you’d stepped in gum.

You met your tired eyes in the mirror above the sink. Timeless, it mocked, as the whisper of lines became canyons.

On the other side of the door was sea of young women. Free to talk and gawk and get into the sort of trouble he surely had a taste for. The kind of trouble you only had the freedom to imagine. How long before the novelty of you wore off? Before his restless hands sought something more? Something he could grasp in broad daylight? Someone who could keep his stride, share a milkshake or a bucket of popcorn?

You cast your welling eyes downward, turned on the water, wet your hands, and pumped the soap.

It started subtle, last spring. Started with the way he looked at you; a flame that dimmed to embers over months of dinners spent alone, plates gone cold, beds left empty, leaving you with nothing but to wonder how he looked at her.

Time moves quickly for young men. You of all people would know it. Like a wildfire; hungry and insatiable, devouring everything in its path. It renders promises of meaning, leaves the past in charred remains. It surges ever forward, seeking fuel.

It left behind an ice in you. Stalling over the sink as the world surged on outside, you felt it seize your chest again.

Eddie Munson; wildfire. Twenty years old. Restless. Reckless. He wasn’t your boyfriend. You weren’t an item. You were nothing.

The water was scalding. Bubbles erupted as you worked up a lather. Scrubbing your knuckles, your palms, the space between your fingers where his had nestled once.

No. You weren’t nothing.

The bell had you flinching; a loud and shrill summons back to your post, your place, your duty.

You were his teacher.

Pinballs. Louder than the shrieking bell. Louder than ever before. You didn’t dare meet your eyes again, frightened of what sort of monster would stare back.

What am I doing?

You turned off the water and paused, hands weeping over the sink.

It was foolish, to play with fire. It was foolish just about anywhere, but here the walls were made of tinder, the desks of charcoal. His fingers like matches, striking you with every touch. But oh, how you craved the heat. Close enough to thaw you; the ice deep in your chest, weeping as it melted, pooling in your lap, making puddles on the floor.

Droplets fell to the tile as you turned to grab a paper towel. It soaked through, blooming dark, wet patches as the brown paper blotted up the dampness.

You shook your head bitterly. No. You certainly weren’t nothing. You were a phase. A passing fancy. An odd fascination. You would never make it to May. You’d be lucky if you made it to January without losing his interest entirely.

You crumpled the soggy paper in your fists and threw it in the trash. Blinking back tears, you pressed your hand to the door and took one deep, final breath as you prepared to face the world again — to put on your mask and perform in front of twenty pairs of judging eyes.

The gap was enormous. Cavernous and treacherous. He deserved someone he could be with in public. Someone he could take to a park or a movie. Someone he could go to fucking prom with.

With a ragged exhale, you pressed open the door.

He deserved someone his own age.

The hall was a flurry of slamming lockers, a scattering of the few straggling students who rushed to find their classrooms. The wind cooled your heated face as you marched, one foot in front of the other, to your post. Shoulders back, deep breaths, sore feet making echos off the polished tile.

He’d get tired of you too.

Click.

They always do.

Click.

The hall stretched on like an Escher drawing, twisting and distorting in your vision as you neared your classroom door. Tears threatened your lashes, and you huffed them away with a determined shrug of your shoulders.

As your fingers grazed the cold metal handle, you caught your own eyes in the glass. Sad and droopy, welling with longing and resentment. On the other side you could already hear the commotion, the questions, the stares, the awkward silence. The bell rang again — a final warning.

With a heavy sigh, you turned the handle.

______

Eddie twisted the ridged dial of his locker in his fingers, left and right until he heard a click. Popping the door open and slinging his backpack forward on his shoulder, he unloaded three weighty textbooks into the dark, cluttered enclosure. He grabbed his thick, leather coat, tucked it under his arm, and slammed the door shut.

In the absence of the books, and of the dimming noise as it filtered out through the front doors and into the parking lot, he felt another weight lift in him. In a matter of minutes, the mindless chatter, the tried scenery of this dull prison, the days worth of stares that clung to him like glue would fall away as he passed the threshold of your door.

With every step he took, Eddie felt lighter. The slamming lockers didn’t phase him, the weird looks from freshmen went right through him, even the shoulder check from a jock coming around the corner glanced right off. In a million years he never would have expected to feel relieved to stay after school, or a pep in his step as he approached a classroom, but in a million years he never expected to find you behind the big desk.

He could feel the warmth already as he approached your open door. Hear your laughter at his stupid jokes, feel the heat of your arm graze his, catch your hand, and you, by surprise. But when he turned into threshold, knuckles raising out of habit to rap against it, he was met with a different scene.

You didn’t look up. Not even when tapped his knuckles to the wood in a shave-and-a-haircut—two-bits pattern. Head cast down over a sea of papers, you looked like you were drowning. He padded slowly toward the big desk, face dropping as he noticed another detail: the wooden folding chair—his chair—sat empty and open. Across from you.

Eddie dropped his backpack to the floor with a heavy thump, making his presence known. “Hey,” he started, tentative and cautious.

It wasn’t until he was practically towering over you that you finally looked up at him, face heavy, expressionless, tired. “Hey,” you stated plainly.

Eddie craned his head and searched your eyes. “You ok?”

You blinked and swallowed. “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

He stood like this a moment, vision locked with yours, dark eyes roving, searching. When you offered nothing more, he simply nodded once, strolled around to the front of your desk, grabbed the back of the chair with a determined slap, and dragged it around to where it belonged — beside you.

He took his place in it; draping his coat over the back of it like always, creaking the wood with his weight as he plunked himself down.

You resumed wading through the sea, heavy gaze cast over it.

Eddie toyed with a pencil on your desk, tapping the eraser to the wood as his eyes bored a hole into the side of your head. You just kept on roving, shoulders tense, lips worried. He could have been invisible, watching you from a hole in a poster, or a crack in the wall. You offered him the same level of attention. “Something’s wrong,” he confronted, unable to take the frigid silence for a moment longer.

You sighed and set your pen down. “I’m sorry, it’s just…” your hand worried the back of your neck, “…a lot, this time of year, work wise.” Your eyes met his only for a second before casting downward again at the pages. “Here, let me clear this up.” Your hands busied themselves with the mess, shuffling the paper into a clumsy, hurried pile.

“No—no, it’s…it’s ok.” He scooted his chair closer, feeling so useless all of a sudden, burdensome, like his presence added to your task load. He wanted to help, to alleviate the tension, but his hands simply fumbled in his lap as you collected the clutter with your chalk dusted knuckles. As you tapped the pile of papers against the desk in haste to form a semblance of a pile, his hand gained a mind of its own.

As if possessed by its own separate consciousness, an impulse deep and thrumming with the need to soothe, it took up refuge in the place between your shoulders; warm and firm, drawing slow, caring circles at your blouse.

You froze, papers stiff against the surface, gaze straight ahead. His hand followed suit, freezing, twitching, arm locked in its extension.

“Y-you should—” you stuttered, blinking wildly as you found your breath. “Why don’t you go grab your schoolwork?” you asked with a curtness that startled him.

Eddie lurched his hand away like you were a hot stove. “I—I’m sorry I just… w-wanted to help. I’m sorry.” His mind became a whirlpool, swirling with worry as his stomach did backflips. He fumbled with the zipper on his backpack.

“No—no, Eddie, I’m… I’m sorry,” you lamented.

He’d never seen your face so fraught. Like you’d stepped on a cat’s tail, chased it through the house with apologies.

“It’s not your fault, it’s…” You swallowed, breaking his gaze. You couldn’t finish the sentence. You didn’t need to.

Mine.

He was losing you.

He should have expected it by now. What could he possibly offer you anyway? His hand? A few stolen moments? Some flirty comments to make you feel good about yourself for a second or two?

He wondered when the other shoe would drop. When you would open your eyes and see this for what it really was — that you were a grown ass woman with a college degree and a real career, and he was twenty years old repeating his senior year of high school for the third fucking time, selling drugs to teenagers, and oh, your student for fuck’s sake.

It wasn’t lost on him; that he was playing tee-ball in a big league stadium. He stared into the crumpled contents of his backpack with a deep, shaking breath, and pulled out his notebook. It fell from his hand with a dejected slap against the big desk; juvenile amidst the tidy assortment of office supplies. The spiral was bent and crumpled, the cover worn soft from abuse. He sat there a moment and stared at it as the heavy silence swallowed you both.

Your lips hardened to a bitter line, eyes cast down over the evidence of your position. Over the evidence of his. You wouldn’t look at him, like you were afraid to. Finally, after a suffocating minute, you spoke — frigidly professional. “What do you want to work on today?”

The question sent a hot rage coursing through him. So that was it, then? Business as usual? Pretending like nothing happened? That none of this was real? Eddie sat back in his seat and boiled with a gaze so intense it could have burned right through you. He wouldn’t give you the satisfaction of an answer. Not until you gave him enough respect to look him in the eyes when you asked the question.

You just sat there, frozen, shoulders locked, eyes cast down at the big desk for an agonizing moment that stretched well past the point of comfort. His gaze was unrelenting, fueled by stubborn indignation. You felt it. He knew you did, because when you finally did submit your eyes to him, you flinched.

He almost felt bad for it. For causing you to shrink so small, to look so fragile, like how you did when you’d relinquished a fragment of your past, when the impulse to soothe you drove him to your hand. The impulse rose again, as did some annoyance by it; the grip you had on him, even in his most determined anger.

“What?” you choked out, barely above a whisper.

You knew damn well what. The audacity to ask sent heat coursing through his veins again, but the look in your eyes, like cornered prey, quelled the fire enough to sigh his way to a level-headed response. “You’re acting different,” he said simply.

You swallowed, breaking his gaze like you’d been caught. It would be insulting to deny it. He could see the gears turning over in your head, the thoughts forming careful words behind your eyes, but in the end, all you could muster was, “I’m sorry.”

It was a weak admission. It answered nothing, really, other than confirming his suspicions. But it was something. He wanted to press, to poke, to pry, and get to the bottom of what caused this shift in you, but in the silence of the classroom, with floors that echoed and walls that listened, words like “you won’t let me touch you,” seemed too far too direct, far too pointed. In the end, it was your eyes that said the most; welling like pools with all the words he knew would pierce the ever thinning veil, poke holes in your shared secrets, make them monstrous and real.

In the end, your eyes just tugged him forward, made him soft and pliant until all he could muster was decency. “It’s…” he sighed, raking his hand through his hair, “it’s fine.” Soft as he intended it, he couldn’t hide the broken edge.

There was little relief in sigh you gave, heavy and ragged. Your fingers grazed the curled, beaten corner of his notebook with a caring reverence that made him wish that he was paper.

He wondered how much longer it could go on like this, before you craved something more than he could offer. Before you tired of secret touches and passing glances. Before some hot-shot with a convertible saw you at a bar somewhere and swept you away. The crushing realization hung heavy in the space between you, the gap more cavernous than ever.

Eddie twisted his rings in his lap, fingers burning. It was a miracle you’d let him touch you to begin with. But you did, and he had, and by god, he refused to go back. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t. Not when you’d let him into your world, given him more than he ever thought possible — a sliver of hope. For you. For himself.

When the silence became too much for him to bear, he broke it with your name.

Your first name.

Bitter grief melted to soft shock as your lips parted, eyes widened. At last, he had your full attention.

With a deep breath, he started. “I don’t… know what happened. If it’s something I did o-or something someone said, or, fuck,” he ran hand through his hair, exasperated, words trailing off into nothing.

“Eddie,” you started, eyes softening deeper; into sympathy, into pity. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why won’t you look at me?” he snapped, but the quiver in his voice betrayed him.

You swallowed, shaking your head, but before you could give an answer he didn’t want to hear, he continued.

“I know, it—it’s ludicrous, this whole thing. To think that I—” he breathed a bitter laugh, “that you,” he glanced at the door.

But instead of shutting him down with the ugly truth, you leaned closer, like your whole world hinged on him. He saw it then, hope, glimmering like a golden treasure in the tremble of your lips, in the pinching of your brow, in the welling of your eyes that threatened to spill over.

“I know,” you whispered, like it caused you pain.

Slowly, Eddie raised his hand to rest on top of his notebook, a fractional distance from yours. Close enough to feel your heat, to catch the subtle tremble of your knuckles. So transfixed by the curve of your delicate fingers beside the broad, ruddy angles of his, that had he not dared to draw his eyes away, he might have missed the tear that pinched through your lashes when you closed them.

Slowly, bravely, he inched his pinky forward. Just close enough to graze yours. It was a phantom of a touch, but you didn’t pull away. In fact, when he looked up, he was surprised to see a whisper of a smile. A sad, soft thing, like it was breaking through layers to surface. Emboldened, he raised his pinky, ever so slightly, to gently stroke yours. The gesture was small and silly, but enough to earn a puff of laughter through the smile that cracked the gloom upon your features.

It opened up a narrow passage, and he entered with the boldest thing that he had ever said.

Maybe it was the fact that he was too stubborn, or perhaps too stupid for his own good, but the sheer audacity of what came out of his mouth next surprised even himself. “Um, my band is playing at the Hideout tomorrow—a-and—” he swallowed, gaining composure as he raised his eyes to your level with conviction. “I want you to come.”

It was all he could offer. An experience.

Your jaw dropped.

“I think—I-Iwant you to see some of the new stuff we’ve been working on. I think you’d like it,” he peddled on.

“Oh, Eddie I—” you shook your head. “I don’t know, I mean—”

He doubled down, brows level and serious. “We—we don’t have to come together. Hell, bring a friend, bring several. It doesn’t have to be a big deal if we don’t make it a big deal. People go to bars all the time.”

As you worried your lips in your teeth, he could see the scales tipping back and forth, weighing the odds and risks against the want. “Oh god, I don’t know.”

“You’re allowed to exist in public. You don’t just like… fold your arms and retreat into the walls here at night,” he laughed.

It snapped a chuckle out of you, like sunlight peeking through the clouds. “Oh yeah? Tell that to the students I run into at the grocery store,” you quipped. Then, as quickly as the sunlight came, the clouds were back. You surveyed the room and dropped your eyes in pensive worry.

Eddie stroked his pinky over yours, slowly, sweetly. “Please?”

You gave him a look, one that threatened resistance but hiding just beneath it, surrender.

“It doesn’t have to be a big deal,” he persuaded, “just me on stage, and you in the audience cheering with your girlfriends or whatever, well, hopefully cheering. I mean ‘Hand of Doom’ is still a crapshoot sometimes but,” he breathed a laugh.

With a chuckling shake of your head, your resolve crumbled like sand in front of his eyes.

“You can boo us too, wouldn’t be the first time. We’ve got tough skin.”

You rolled your eyes and laughed. “I’m not gonna boo you.”

A wicked grin cracked like lightning across his face. “Not gonna, you mean you’ll come then?”

You sighed, deep and heavy, shifting the scales back and forth.

Eddie tipped his head and raised his eyebrows. “You know you want to.”

“Of course I want to,” you deadpanned.

His umber eyes glimmered, wild and auspicious. “Well then, do what you want,” he said, sitting back in his seat like the decision was easy.

Want. A shelved, forgotten thing, like something you’d lost in the move. Something you’d tucked away long before that. Left to grow stale inside a box, in the back of a closet, in a place you barely remembered.

It sat beside you now, loud and unignorable, with lips that begged and eyes that pleaded. And you, in all your years of practiced discipline, could no longer deny it.

Eddie Munson; wildfire. Restless, frenetic, warm, and compelling.

With a dignified sigh, and a verdant conviction that peeked through the ash, you turned to him at last, and surrendered.

______

A/N: So begins the craziest week in the whole story. Two words: Donkey Kong. 😈

The next chapter might take me a little longer than usual just because it's a moment we've all been waiting for and I want to make sure it's absolutely perfect.

Also, I've been featured on a PODCAST so if you want to hear me talk about this story and specifically the appeal of reader insert fics, check it out HERE!

✨ As always, nothing encourages me to continue writing this story more than hearing from you. Seriously, please give me your thoughts, your theories, your keyboard smashes. Hit up my inbox, my DMs, whatever suits your fancy.

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#seriously guys I'm stoked about this one #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson older reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x teacher!reader #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson angst #don't stand so close to me

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