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boneblushed · 11 months ago

Text

Labyrinth

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

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

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

wc ~11k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can’t afford it anymore.

“I know,” you reply quietly.

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

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

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

“Believe what?”

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

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

“You shouldn’t have to, though!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were dead wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

It doesn’t make any sense.

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

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

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

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

“Because you don’t love me anymore.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How times change.

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

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

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

You shake your head, smiling in tandem.

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

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

Rafe doesn’t arrive until the reception itself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…that fucking hug.

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

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

It shifted bile into your throat.

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

What were you meant to say?

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

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

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

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

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

Rafe’s pretty sure he’s fucking doomed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What isn’t?”

“The… the spark.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rafe winces. “Look, Y/N, I —”

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

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

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

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

You nod. “She told me.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Listen, Rafe, I —”

“Y/N, I’ve been —”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your brow furrows. “At setting people up?”

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

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

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

“Well…”

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

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

Fucking sadist.

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

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

“Uh huh.”

“This way.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s nice.”

“Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Rafe —”

“No, listen…”

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

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

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

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

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

“And listen, the Elle thing —”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Which I have.”

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

“It does,” you reply, “I am.”

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

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

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

Your heart sighs. “Me too.”

“Friends then.”

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rafe’s eyes widen. “You’re kidding.”

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

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

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

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

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

Rafe frowns. “Fuck that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

“I was looking forward to ordering the usual.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You balk. “I don’t, I guess.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frown. “He’s still pining, huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

Your expression softens. “That makes sense.”

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

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

“Yeah. I guess.”

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

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

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

thank you for yesterday. It was really nice.

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And how can you be so sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frown. “Different how?”

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

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

“Brooklyn…” you sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Different how?”

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

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

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

“I do.”

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

You furrow your brow. “Hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We were eight, Cameron.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You balk. “Hm?”

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

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

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

“Why?”

“Elle.”

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

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

You eyes widen in surprise. “Your therapist?”

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

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

“Has it been helping?” You ask.

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

“A rebound,” you echo.

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

“Oh.” You swallow. “But I did.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

You’re starting anew. Rafe realises it too.

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

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

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

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

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

You smile. “Shocker.”

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

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

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

A hush falls. “True.”

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

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

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

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

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

“D’you believe in soulmates, Y/N?”

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

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

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

“I think I am,” you murmur.

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

—

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

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

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ratskinsuit · 10 months ago

Text

A Warm Embrace

Hazbin Hotel Lucifer x gn!Reader

———————————————————————

“Recently Lucifer has seeming more depressed than usual, constantly putting himself down, shutting himself off from everyone, and locking himself in his office for hours at a time, whenever he comes out he’s distant and moody, so you go and try to comfort him.”

Tags: Fluff, slight angst, Lucifer being sad, comfort

This was an anonymous request, if anything is wrong feel free to request again, but I hope I did well! I’m not the best at writing fluff but I tried.

———————————————————————

It was a normal afternoon at Lucifer’s castle, yet Lucifer was not out like he usually was. He has been really down and depressed lately, only leaving his office for meals, and during them he just picks at it and is silent. If you try to get him to come out he will just make excuses.

“Sorry I just have a lot to do.. like make..ducks and, paperwork…” He would say.

So you decided that enough was enough, and you would help him through this episode. You made him some warm lavender tea, some apple slices with honey, and an assortment of fruits.

You hum on your way to office, knocking and opening the door, stepping inside, you see your partner hunched over the desk, papers and rubber ducks scattered all around. His eyes are half-lidded, and bloodshot. His hair is a mess, knotted and messy, stands infront of his face. Hes wearing a random white t-shirt he found, stained with paint and dirt. He’s working on a duck, a pile on the floor next to him. He seems to not have heard you come in so you clear your throat.

He looks up from the duck he was working on. “O-oh hello darling, sorry I didn’t notice you came in, I was uh…” He glances at the duck. “…working.”

You walk up to his desk, setting his plate on it. “Yes, I can… see that..”You say, glancing at all of the ducks strewn across the room

“Oh- oh oh! Look what I made!” He says, picking up the duck he was working on proudly. “Presentinggg, the magictastical backflip ping rubber duck! That spits fire!” He says, in a showman type voice, smiling.

“That’s very nice honey…” You say, petting his hair.

He pauses for a second, and his face drops. “Who am I kidding this sucks!” He says, throwing it across the room with a sigh and looking down.

You look at him sadly, going behind him. “My love, I’ve noticed that you have been really on edge recently, you seem really depressed, and stressed..why don’t we take a break?” You say, rubbing his shoulders.

He looks at you with a fake confused expression, and lets out a fake laugh. “Haha! Me? Depressed? N-no way, I’m perfectly fine! I’m not stressed at all, I’m just uh… a little hyper that’s all! I’m okay!” He says, another fake laugh, obviously not okay.

“Darling we have been married for years now. I can tell your really worked up right now, why don’t we take a break and talk about it?” You say, going and sitting in his lap, resting your hands on his face, your thumb rubbing his face comfortingly.

He pushes his face against your hand, and looks down. “I… guess I have been a.. tad bit stressed recently…” He murmurs, still not used to people caring.

You give him a smile, and run your fingers through his hair and rub his back soothingly. This seems to calm him, as he leans against your chest and closes his eyes. You hum softly, continuing to comfort him.

After a couple moments you hear him mutter something unintelligible into your shirt. “Hm? What was that hon?” You ask.

He turns his head still leaning on your chest, before hesitating. “T…thank you for staying with me and caring for me…”He murmurs.. cheeks a bit red, obviously a bit embarrassed by his vulnerability.

You smile and give him a kiss. “Of course love, now why don’t we go take a bath, no offense but you kind of stink.” He laughs, his cheeks going redder. “Yeah I think that’s a good idea.”

———————————————————————

My first ever request done! I hope it was up to standards, I’m not very good at writing comfort, hope you enjoyed!

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #Lucifer Morningstar x reader #Lucifer magne x reader #hazbin x reader #hazbin

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lainsshop · 10 months ago

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Dates With Him ౨ৎ

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship n probably more..

A/N: Another long work of mine, hope you like it cause.. I don’t know. If you have more date ideas please tell me and I’ll make sure to put them here!

Oh, God, you probably already know what type of dates this man will suggest..

Well, of course, it’s gonna be classy, fancy and jazzy! This man only knows the classic type of dates, the “proper” way of taking your partner to dates, according to him that is.

Lots of dancing! It could be anywhere! He doesn’t care if people are watching you, he could just break their limbs if the people around y’all criticize you guys, especially if they judge you.

Even if you suck at dancing he will teach you! Don’t worries, what type of partner will he be if he didn’t. But if you do know how to dance then that’s even better! You two are stealing the dance floor in seconds, I promise you.

Fancy restaurants. Not the white fancy or the bright fancy ones, oh, nuh uh.. I’m talking about the ones with warm dim lights, brown; pearl white; gold n red color palate, good scented candles, soft jazz playing in the background or maybe a live group/solo playing, the finest servings, etc etc..

Yea, those type of restaurants that need a reservation and have a big ass price but don’t worry, Alastor will pay for everything even if you insist on paying too he would just-

“Nonsense, my dear! What kind of gentleman will I be if I let you pay?” You were gonna insist again but you knew he would still pay for it at the end so you gave up.

You just feel kinda guilty cause he pays for almost always pays for everything when you two go out to eat and even on things you want, he likes to spoil you..? You could say that but I don’t really know.

Jazz clubs! Oh, you two will always and when I say always I mean alwaysssss go to jazz clubs! Even before you became official, you two will always go to a jazz venue at least once a month. It became a tradition between you two at this point.

If you haven’t listen to jazz before, oh, you’re on a ride, this man will talk about it and probably even more genres of his era. He would recommend you one artist and then two and like ten and- you get the deal.

Book reading. Now there’s time where Alastor or you.. or both of you like to just stay indoors so sometimes you guys just stay at the hotels library and read. Just enjoying your guys presence, the fire crackling and the soft music in the background.

And when you get tired, he would absolutely read to you while you put your head on his shoulder. (He’s voice is so &;&:&: like it could put me to sleep, okay?😭)

Cooking or Baking. Well, I don’t know if Alastor knows how to bake but I will assume he does. He loves to cook or bake with you! It’s probably his top 3 favorite dates to do with you like.. you literally can do it at any hour, in the mornings, evenings, nights and even midnights like wow there.

If you don’t know how to bake or cook, oh, he would absolutely love to teach you. If it comes out wrong, he would def laugh a bit.. but don’t worries, it’s your first time after all, right? It takes times to learn something new!

#alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel

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arminsumi · 1 year ago

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hi! I hope you're doing well, i always look foward to your work <3

can i request gojo and geto being protective over you

drink lots of water!

Promise — 約束

SatoSugu ⋅ fem reader

NOTE — so sweet !! thank you, i'm so happy you look forward to my works :) i hope u like what i made of this, the idea just kinda happened

WARNINGS — angst with fluff / comfort (it's not actually sad the boys are just distressed because you got hurt), implied injury / near-death experience (reader)

" THEY WHAT ?! ARE THEY OUT OF THEIR MINDS ?! " Satoru yelled like you had never seen him yell before. He was seething, eyes ablaze.

" This has to be a mistake... oh, angel, don't cry, come here. " Suguru talked to you soothingly.

You had come to them and told them the news through chokes and sniffles. It stung their hearts to see you so petrified.

An especially frightening mission had been assigned to you. Usually, these two overprotective boys tagged along with you or just did it themselves to save you the burden and pain of using your straining technique. But that wasn't an option this time, for some reason.

" I have a bone to pick. " Satoru grumbled, storming off violently.

Suguru had been practically cradling you in his arms to try and soothe your nerves.

" Satoru ! Don't do something rash — ah, shit, 'gotta go after that madman or he'll kill someone. Okay, you stay with Shoko, alright ? She's in the main hall by the vending machines. Relax. Satoru and I will sort everything out. Drink some water and rest — and no cigarettes with Shoko. "

So the boys went to complain to the higher ups, and though admittedly they were shaken up by Satoru's violently aggressive attitude, they didn't budge.

" ARE YOU ALL OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MINDS ?! "

" Satoru, calm down. " Suguru said. That's when Satoru finally calmed down.

" We're the strongest, let us take on this mission instead. " Suguru tried to reason.

Satoru's voice subtly shook when he spoke, residual anger lingering in his throat. His heart was beating heavily. " Y/n's weak. " he said. A harsh truth. " Too weak to take on a special-grade like that. "

Suguru tended to butter you up and call you strong, but Satoru was brutally truthful; you were much, much weaker than the both of them. Ever since they had met you, they felt this overwhelming urge to protect you with their lives.

Then they tried to convince the higher ups that you were " too weak " to do it. But they still didn't budge. In fact they glowered at the two students.

" You think I can't do it myself ! I'm a fucking god ! I could snap that thing in half with my fingertips ! " Satoru went into a sudden self-induced power trip, but Suguru stood besides him and silently agreed. Of course he could do it himself, he was Gojo Satoru.

Storming off again, Satoru left to go find you. And Suguru followed after his steps.

" Shoko ? Where did Y/n go ? She was supposed to be with you. "

" . . . uh, she walked right past me earlier and when I asked where she was headed, she said something about Roppongi ? " Shoko had her head in her hands and a lit cigarette between her fingers.

" God fucking damn it, that idiot. " Satoru's heart panged with worry.

" Save some limbs for me to rip off. " Suguru joked.

" Let's go get her. " Suguru said.

" I swear to fuck . . . I'll fucking rip that thing to limb by limb if it even so much as grazes her skin. " Satoru seethed.

" You two are gonna get reprimanded for this, you know. "

Satoru waved his hand dismissively and left with Suguru.

You were in the midst of battle, bleeding and panting. Covering your ears, you were just about to succumb to your paralyzing fear when suddenly your two saviors sliced right into the scene. You caught a glimpse of the most feral, raw look in Satoru's eyes; pure vengeance, it was almost artful how he pulled apart the cursed spirit.

" Angel, it's okay now, We're here. " Suguru comforted you, lifting your limp body and holding it like a baby. " You did good. Don't try to move, you must be in a lot of pain. I've got you, don't worry. Oh — Satoru, that was quick. Are you trying to show off for her ? Just teasing. "

You listened to the lullaby-like voice of Suguru and let your eyes flutter shut. The last image in your vision was that of a panting, blue-eyed boy who looked so startled to see you in poor condition. He looked about ready to cry.

Their voices sounded like distant echoes to you as you drifted into a half-conscious state, leaning more on the unconscious side.

" . . . I could kill those old fucks right now. "

" Satoru, calm down. She's going to be alright. Let's just get her to Shoko. "

" I hate seeing her like this. "

" Me too. But she'll be okay. "

" Angel, still with us ? Satoru, just breathe. She's really going to be okay. Don't cry or you'll make me cry, too. "

" Sh-she's so damn stubborn. Stubborn a—nd st-stupid. Why'd you run off by yourself like that. Y-you stupid weakling . . . "

You could hear Satoru distantly crying, and he didn't stop until after Shoko tended to you. The boys kept close, soothingly stroking your arms and cheeks to keep you conscious.

Nothing can explain the relief they felt when they saw you stirring-to again.

" Hey, sleepyhead. " Suguru's tender smile was the first thing you saw.

Satoru's lips were parted, his face paler than ever. He looked so relieved and yet shocked to the bone, like he'd just gone through the worst day of his life.

" Welcome back to the land of the living. " Shoko greeted, cleaning up the blood on your cheek. " You know, you made the boys cry. Satoru even had a snotty nose like a little kid. "

" Shut up . . . "

Satoru heard how dry your throat was when you spoke, and promptly shoved his half-full water bottle in your face, hastily drying his eyes on his uniform sleeve. Like the in-sync duo they were, they worked together to help you drink; Suguru held the back of your head, and Satoru tilted the water bottle into your mouth. Of course he spilled a bit, two rivulets of water went down either side of your jawline and tickled your neck.

" . . . was just . . . trying to show you two . . . that I'm not weak . . . but I guess I am. I'm Sorry. " you choked, voice barely above a whisper.

Their hearts sunk deep.

" You're not weak . . . " Satoru choked up too, eyes only recently dried of tears and yet fresh ones began tipping over his bottom lid, wetting his angelic lashes. " You're not weak, I'm sorry I say that all the time. I shouldn't have . . . I just . . . would rather convince you you're weak so you'll call on us all the time, 'n n-never r—r-risk los—ing y—ou. " he suddenly sobbed at the end, realizing how deeply he cared for you.

Suguru was on the verge of tears, too, because of the sight of his best friend sobbing like a hurt puppy and also because of what he had just said.

" . . . don't cry, you two. A—ahah, Sh-Shoko don't you cry with them ! Or I'm gonna cr—yh. "

" Very graceful, Satoru. " Suguru joked.

" . . . thanks. " you thanked them.

" Don't say thank you. "

You could barely make out the complicated sentence that Suguru said next, it was something like;

" You'll never be undeserving of our protection. " and " So never say thank you. "

That day, they didn't just promise to keep you safe, they vowed it. Weak or not, strengthened or not, they felt compelled to be at your side.

Through the long passage of time, they never break their vow to keep you safe, even when Satoru and Suguru part paths. You're never an enemy to either of them, you're always their baby.

It's a tough reality to accept that one of your closest friends has become a murderous cult leader, and the other has become a lonely god. But they still visit you. Sometimes you three will hang out altogether in secret — so risky, but worth it, to see the two of them smiling with you even though you had very few things to smile about during your adulthood.

The sweet, comforting feeling of the adolescent memories made with them carries through all the years.

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

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toxycodone · 5 months ago

Text

𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺'𝘥 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘳 !

𝘤𝘸. 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘦

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘰𝘴, 𝘬𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘶, 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘤𝘩𝘶𝘤𝘬

Laios:

I genuinely think Laios is attracted to the unconventional or stereotypically attractive. Anyone with unique features, personality quirks, etc. If you don't fit in, you're more willing to catch his eye.

He finds it difficult to really like? Gain an interest in someone who doesn't really "stick out". I think it's clear with the way he treats Kabru that like! People kinda are a blur to him! So! anything that makes someone stick out will catch his interest and he'd be more willing to remember them + actually continue to think about them.

MUST. Share his interest in monsters/animals. This is very important. Like there must be a shared interest there whether its just about anatomy, behavior, etc. I just think he needs to be accepted to talk about this and share fun facts. He likes it. Cooking or an interest in food would also be another plus.

Also just? He likes really easygoing people who aren't super judgemental. Laios is really unapologetically himself and he gets chewed out for it by his friends enough. He's very self aware when it comes to his own issues (esp by the end of the manga) so. Yeah. Just someone who he doesn't feel the need to mask around.

Honestly, maybe someone childish would fit his vibe too? I mean this in a more lighthearted sense. Like someone he could play tag with or goof around in the woods with. He missed out on being a kid for a while, and he's still kinda interested in stuff like that (bug collecting, cool rocks, etc.). Even in post manga he still wants this.

Also uhhhh beastkin/monsters/whatever of any kind get bonus points. Do they have to be this way? No. But. It would definitely do some favors to be feral/wild in some way like this.

Kabru:

Okay I am not saying this is healthy or anything, but Kabru is ridiculously attracted to fixer-uppers. The main character/savior/hero complex kicks in and he cannot help it.

This can either be super good for him if the person is like. not terrible and is actually okay with this. but uh. that isn't always the case. Bro is often setting himself up for some sort of situationship most of the time. He cannot catch a break.

But he totally needs to be confronted about this to have a relationship work out. Hope you can be at least a little assertive!

Oh and the people pleasing. It's going so far. Please, I-....

He needs to be stopped.

Ultimately. He's gonna go after the people who show the least interest in him and this SPECIFICALLY comes from his own insecurities as a person.

But in the end he's gonna truly fall for someone who can put their foot down and confront him about these issues. He's so insightful and perceptive when it comes to others and can easily point out and help you with you're own shortcomings. But he is super blind to his own faults. Legit does not. Even realize.

He honestly needs someone to help him grow, because in my eyes I can see him like even post manga being pretty stagnant here so . Yeah. You don't need to be like some badass assertive person either. As long as you can just sit down and have a serious conversation w him about this I think it'd go well.

And he'd fall for you because I think it's the first time he genuinely sees someone who recognizes things that are bad about him + still loves him despite that + wants him to grow as a person and assert his own wishes and needs more. Yeah. I just have a lot of feelings about that.

Chilchuck:

This goes two ways.

Non Toxic Route

He'd easily see himself falling for someone mature and responsible. It would start out as just a professional admiration but it would slowly become more intimate as Chilchuck starts to enjoy their more unique personality traits (and even ones he'd consider annoying) --like being feisty, or maybe they're picky, or they can be silly sometimes. That type of thing.

It's a total slow burn with him.

But he also likes people who are more lowkey. Chilchuck is not a "falls for you immediately/puppy love" kinda guy. He's jaded and has a past and has KIDS so. He needs to be treated gently and not rushed into things. Anyone who lets him come to them and start to be more affectionate without demanding it...yeah. Handle him with care PLEASE.

And speaking of this...he wants to keep up appearances since he does value his professional life and has kids and an ex-wife. So he wants someone that can blend into this life without causing drama or more headaches (his party gives him plenty. pls.)

"Toxic"/Not Gonna Last Route

Chilchuck is easily motivated by the more basic pleasures of life, so I can definitely see him having a bootycall that becomes some weird "what are we" type of vibe.

He's like...in the back of his mind the type to enjoy a "dirty little secret". Something he thinks only him and this person know about. But as time goes on he eventually gets emotionally involved with them and is like "we need to cut this off".

It is an extremely painful breakup on his end for sure and makes him more jaded when its literally! His own fault.

#playing around w shi #laios touden #dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi x reader #chilchuck tims #kabru of utaya #dungeon food #my writing #x reader #delicious in dungeon

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quixotical-lymbo · 28 days ago

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Hi I really love your transformers one fics and I was hoping if you could write a fic about B-127 meeting a predacon like dragon fem s/o in the surface while searching for the metrix with his friends, I would love that 😊

Pairing: B-127/Bee x fem!predacon!Reader Rating: SFW Summary: B-127 meets an unlikely stranger, and you meet an odd group of bots for the first time in a long time. Warnings/Tags: first meetings, reader has a bad time picking up social cues, hehe B-127 is silly, has no concept of personal space, but he's also up in ur grill, size difference, D-16, Orion, and Elita are like 'damn not another one ffs'. A/N: I'mma not put spoilers anymore since I feel like everyone has watched TFO at this point. Ty for the love!! Word Count: 800+ words

"Uhh, guys what is that?"

"What is what-"

A loud crash made the group of four turn towards one of the dilapidated structures. A gaping hole could be seen in the roof as dust rose from the damaged part.

"....we should go," Elita muttered as she began inching away while not taking her optics off of the building. D-16 nodded silently and followed the pink femme's lead. Orion and Bee, however, wanted to investigate.

"Pax." A warning hiss came from Elita as she noticed the hesitancy from the two. "Let's go."

"Yeahhh, I'm with Elita on this one," Bee began turning around when Orion stepped toward the building instead.

"I just wanna get another look." Orion spoke as he walked toward the entrance of the building. He peered inside the darkness and leaned forward, nothing seemed to be moving or inside the structure. After a few more nanoklicks had passed, Orion hummed and backed away.

Only something big popped out and tackled him to the ground.

Orion screamed as well as the B-127.

"Orion!" D-16 was quick to act and rushed over to his friend. Elita groaned and ran after D-16 to aid in saving Orion.

"It's eating his face! It's eating his face!" Bee shrieked as he pointed at the weird beast thing on top of Orion. It wasn't that big, just a few sizes bigger than Orion and the more Orion examined the beast on him the more he recognized what it was. Seeing that Orion wasn't struggling anymore, the beast also stopped snapping it's maw at him.

"Hehe!" A strange laugh came from the beast as it began transforming. Before anyone knew it, a femme appeared where the beast was and sat on Orion.

"You lot sure are funny-!" You didn't have time to introduce yourself before two bodies slammed into yours. You blinked and glanced down at the bots who were attempting to..shove you off?

"Get off of him!" The silver mech demanded.

"Oh! Yeah, sorry, sometimes I forget I'm stronger than most bots, but then again I haven't seen any bot for a long, longggg time so maybe I just haven't had any strong bot to test my strength against and-"

"JUST GET OFF."

"Okay! Okay! Geez," You raised your servos up and got off of their friend. "Better?"

"B-better," Orion hadn't realized he was out of breath as he sat up and wheezed. "You're…a predacon?"

"What now?"

"A predacon," Elita's optics widened as she took in your form. "I thought…no, weren't they supposed to be dead?"

"Who said that? I'm alive and well, thank you very much," You crossed your arms and huffed.

"Wait, what's a predacon, guys? It sounds cool," Bee piped up as he bounced over to you. "You're like…really big and grrrr rahhh! What's that about?? What's your designation? Mine is B-127 but I like to call myself, b a d a s s a t r o n. Do you live here? How long have you been here? Hey, why are you living in this…lovely place? Hey, are you single-?"

You sat there stunned as the barrage of questions assaulted your processor too quickly for you to even remember the first one. You turned your helm to look at the trio who only shrugged.

"Uh, yes?"

The yellow mech let out a joyous laugh that was infectious, your previous confusion melted away as you leaned down to examine B-127 or 'Badassatron.'

"You're funny, I like it." You poked a claw at Bee's helm before picking at his arm.

"Well, you're gonna like me more since…being funny is my whole thing," Bee didn't seem to mind your touchy-feelyness and even went as far as to poke and prod at you too.

"Excuse me, sorry for interrupting the happy couple," Elita rose her voice. "But I think we have somewhere to be, let's go."

"Oh! Right…you can come with us!"

"What?"

"I don't…"

"Why not?" Orion shrugged. Elita gave Orion a hard stare and D-16 just gave in with a loop-sided smile.

"Eeeee! It's official!" Bee and you cheered as the two of you rushed ahead of the group.

"...I mean, at least they'll balance each other out."

"Yeah, now I won't have to entertain 'badassatron' anymore." Elita sighed but a small grin formed on her dermas.

"I think they're kind of cute?"

"Yeah, yeah, haul some aft, cupid." D-16 shoved Orion's arm and trailed after the chattering duo. Elita and Orion followed.

😼 - I do not give permission for anyone to translate, copy, republish, or plagiarize any of my written works. I provide no permission for any of my literary works to be used in artificial intelligence. like my writing? consider buying me a kofi :)

honeycomb banner(s) by @thecutestgrotto!!

#transformers one x reader #Tranformers one #b 127 #B 127 x reader #X reader #Predacon reader #Slight crack #fluff #first meeting

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angelicdanvers · 3 months ago

Text

BREATHE DEEPER | five.

a charlie bushnell x fem!reader social media fic.

levizmiller

liked by y/n, dior.n.goodjohn, leahsavajeffries, and others

levizmiller — she won at pool. again.

tagged | y/n

y/n hey at least we got drinks ↳ levizmiller true ↳ walker.scobell YOU CAN DRINK??? ↳ y/n technically yes BUT i settle for virgins

dior.n.goodjohn best duo loading?! ↳ levizmiller YES

user i lowk shipp ↳ user2 nah they prob friends ↳ user3 ay no need to speculate 😭

y/n

liked by levizmiller, dior.n.goodjohn, walker.scobell, and others

y/n — prep for the jumpscare at the end

tagged | levizmiller

levizmiller 😭

walker.scobell i wanna be your age ↳ y/n in like five years buddy

walker.scobell also levizmiller your physique is ELITE ↳ levizmiller thank you walker :)

leahsavajeffries YOU GUYS ARE SO COOL ↳ y/n that’s our goal >:)

iamcharliebushnell hope ur having fun! ↳ y/n thanks!

dior.n.goodjohn YOURE SO HOT ↳ y/n BABES YOU ALL YOU

user2 not charlie becoming less and less consistent ↳ user4 fr man this is sad

GALILEO’S GALS

forbidden child added cutie patootie

↳ HI ARYAN OKAY SO UH I NEED YALLS HELP i think you guys were right

cutie patootie aw what’s wrong?

chanel’s enemy uh oh

↳ yeaaah so is charlie mad at me??? for hanging out with levi?

lee lee he shouldn’t be, he doesn’t have a reason to because even tho all of us are close it’s still your life yk

chanel’s enemy i second that, and if he does that also means SOMETHING if yk what i mean

dr dre im not even gonna sugarcoat, his comment seems so passive 😭

↳ welp i’ve screwed up big time 😃

cutie patootie i mean he’s okay around walker and i. he did keep talking about you at one point last night when we were watching moon knight literally made us pause the ep and just spoke of you

chanel’s enemy BRO UR GONNA HAVE TO SAY MORE ELSE WE’LL JUST ASSUME HE’S GOT A CRUSH ON HER

cutie patootie idk bro it just seemed to me that he missed her a lot. he kept saying how he wanted to take her to egypt esp a restaurant by the pyramids considering y/n still hasn’t been and other places

chanel’s enemy ong he deffo should if he likes her, he should actually ask her out before anyone else does take her to a nice lil restaurant, get her flowers, whatnot

cutie patootie yeah fr

↳ yall pls tell me youre not speculating he likes me

dr dre omfg Y/N ARE YOU PAYING ATTENTION TO ANY OF THESE DETAILS

↳ yes but im choosing to ignore them for the sake of my sanity

lee lee GIRL HE PROBABLY LIKES YOU IF IT ISNT THAT, THEN ITS BECAUSE WALKER SAID LEVI’S PHYSIQUE WAS GREAT AND HE ONLY EVER USED TO SAY THAT TO CHARLIE

↳ YEAH BUT CHARLIE’S MATURE

dr dre is he tho guys do dumb shit when they like a girl

↳ he doesnt like me 😭

cutie patootie ANYWAYS i'd keep my eyes and ears open if i were you, y/n, you definitely didn’t screw up but if you're worried abt charlie maybe just be a tad bit more careful?

↳ gotcha, no more levi posts then?

chanel’s enemy i mean ofc you can post him, it shouldn't be anyone's business as to who you're posting, but idk it's so hard to explain like don't get me wrong i think you should post whomever you wish but hopefully it won't hurt anyone. i mean you're not with anyone controversial so it shouldn't be a big deal anyways, plus if someone cough charlie cough can't fess up their feelings it's on THEM not YOU

↳ i definitely get that, thank you for the insight you guys :) it’s just tough because i really don’t know how i feel either

chanel’s enemy WAIT WHAT i did NOT expect that response

↳ i can't help it idk my emotions are all over the place right now

chanel’s enemy GIRL YOURE NOT A BOP STOP ACTING LIKE ONE

↳ RIGHT SORRY 💀 K PLEASE HELP THO

cutie patootie okok miss y/n do you, or do you not, have a crush on levi?

↳ i do not

chanel’s enemy okok MISS y/n l/n would you rather be MRS. y/n bushnell?

↳ DIOR WTF MAN

dr dre well THAT got a reaction out of her

↳ ugh but he's cute and he’s so sweet and he’s so charming too he texts me every morning no matter what timezone i’m in and he gave my mom flowers when he first met her too he’s so smart, both emotionally and intellectually like doing math with him is just >>>>

lee lee girl. GIRL.

chanel’s enemy LMFAOOO MATH 💀 she down bad BAD

dr dre you see there’s a river in egypt…

cutie patootie AND YOU STILL THINK THIS IS PLATONIC??

↳ OKAY OKAY fuck i like charlie don’t i

chanel’s enemy OH YOU DO YOU DEFINITELY DO

cutie patootie YOU LITERALLY WORRY ABOUT HOW HE FEELS ABOUT YOU ABOUT THE PEOPLE YOU HANG OUT WITH YOU'RE DOWN BAD N/N

↳ aw shit man WHAT DO I DO

chanel's enemy MAKE A SUBTLE MOVE ASAP

lee lee HANG OUT WITH HIM SOON

dr dre MAKE A SHORT FILM

cutie patootie YES THATS PERFECT

↳ guys this is too hard i dont like this

chanel's enemy STFU YOU WILL DO THIS WE ARE HERE BAE 💪

↳ OKOK LOVE YOU GUYS LEMME TRY THIS OUT

— taglist.

@shokocoded @istillremeberthefirstfallofsnow @surftrips @svtsimp22 @thames-fig @captainshischier @reggieslifeboat @multifandom-loser @wheelerslover @mermaid-mqtel @randomnpc456 @kaithoughs @isab3lita @mariposa555 @sunshinessky @myr-cheri @thedeadlynights @ella33 @c1nn4mng1rl @poppysrin @breadbrobin @lucy-the-ant @jules-loves-lukecastellan @taloulalila @tom-pls-fuck-me @mia-luvs @iknowyoureabigfan @rinisfruity14 @chasebeth @auttumnsayshi @prettygirlformula @alwayswndr @balletfilmss @kestisvrse @1forthemoney2forthekish @eissaaaa @emelia07 @toffytaste @soulaires @bearwon @happy-mushrooms @simrah1012 @blimp-blimp @obxstiles @yuminako @hopexcroc @mackycat11 @knowugetdejavu @0puddleofgender0 @callsignwidow @i-heart-emos @eddiesdrummergf @suckerforblondies @homebyeleven @bookworm-center @kawliflo @https-evan2 @ihrtzku @strawberryapplesauce13 @captainshischier @vbbaby-girl @honeysmoonn @itssmandiee @kinderwh0r3 @willsdills @americanbluebirdrb @bokutos-biddys @ln4author @lqclercs @czennieszn @laveens-pearl @inlovewithcarsthatrunreallyfast @aerangi @taygrls @ilamara @hanjiiberry

hi my loves! i am so so sorry for disappearing for a bit, school was getting horrible during the second semester and i found very little motivation. i rested all of july and i am hoping to update this series, along with posting a luke one i've written for the past few months, throughout this month! i think i've mostly tagged all the people that requested to be a part of the taglist, forgive me if i missed you or tagged you twice.

how are you guys doing?

please stay safe and drink water, i'm proud of you <333

#charlie bushnell #charlie bushnell x reader #charlie bushnell x you #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson #pjo #pjotv #social media fic #luke castellan #percy jackson x reader

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year ago

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if you call me back

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'mutual pining' rated: T wc: 864 cw: angst with a happy ending, mention of being drunk tags: mutual pining, long distance friends, friends to lovers

❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

"Hey, Eds, just me checking in. Dustin said you lost your job and I didn't know if you already had another one or not. Uh. Just call me when you can."

"Me again. Heard you got a new job! I didn't even know a record store opened in Hawkins. You must be happy about that. Um, well, I guess call me when you can?"

"I know this is kinda the worst to get a lot of voice messages, but I just...miss you? Sorry, I just. Needed you to know that. If I upset you or something, you can tell me."

"Eds! Listen! If you call me back, I gotta tell you something! Robin said I can't say it over the phone though! Ouch, sorry, just stubbed my toe. Uh, okay wait. I think I'm drunk."

Eddie listened to every voice message on repeat every night before bed.

He didn't know why he didn't call Steve back, especially after the last message that left him dangerously hopeful that he would admit he had feelings for him.

They'd naturally drifted when Steve moved away with Robin, though they'd kept up weekly phone calls for months. The highlight of Eddie's week was getting to talk to Steve about the kids and hear about his exciting life in the city.

But after a few months, the calls got shorter, and then Eddie decided that he had to pull away completely before Steve unintentionally broke his heart.

It wasn't Steve's fault he couldn't keep things strictly platonic.

The phone ringing startled him out of his thoughts.

He looked at the clock and frowned. It was much later than Steve usually called, even the one drunk message was from closer to ten instead of one in the morning.

He answered, hoping it was just Wayne checking in from work.

"Hello?"

"Edward."

Robin.

"How're things, birdie?" Sounding casual would work for him, right?

"Things for me would be a lot better if I wasn't dealing with the mopiest human being on the planet right now."

He could hear the crossed arms in her voice.

"Oh?"

"Oh? That's all you've got? You don't return Steve's calls for almost two months and all you've got is 'oh'?"

Had it really been that long?

"I-"

"Don't wanna hear it. Can you please at least call him back and break his heart so he can move on? I cannot deal with the pining anymore."

She hung up before he could respond.

Well.

He dialed the number for their apartment, hoping Robin would at least explain more of what she meant.

"'Lo?" Steve's voice, rough with sleep, answered.

"Uh."

"Eddie?" Steve sounded like he'd just had cold water thrown on him, much more awake. "Holy shit. Hi."

"Hey. Uh-"

"I'm sorry," Steve interrupted.

"Sorry? For what?"

"Whatever I did to make you not wanna talk to me."

"Steve, I-"

"No, I just. I know sometimes I'm needy or clingy or whatever. Robin doesn't mind it because she is, too, but I know it's annoying. Like, you have a life that I don't belong in and I just have to get used to that. I should've taken the hint sooner."

Eddie's heart was racing.

Now. Do it now.

"Why would you think you don't belong in my life?"

"It's just that you always talk to everyone else, but not me. I kinda got the message, just, maybe later than you hoped."

"Stevie..." Eddie sighed, his grip on the phone tightening. "I miss you every minute of every day. I just thought...you seem happy there. I don't wanna make you feel like you owe me anything."

A whimper could be heard on the other end and Eddie felt his stomach drop.

"Eds, I." A pause. "I didn't wanna do this over the phone, but I won't be back in Hawkins for another month. I'm sorry this might change everything, but I can't keep doing this. I love you. I love you so much that some days I think about packing up and moving back there because having you laughing next to me on the couch sounds worlds better than anything this city has to offer. You've been one of my best friends for a year, and not having you next to me is like my chest is actually trying to cave in on itself."

"Oh." Oh.

"Oh?"

"Oh."

"Is that...all?"

"No, sweetheart, I just think I'd like to say the rest in person. Think you can make time for me to visit tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow? Don't you have work?"

"Not anymore. Tell Robin to stay somewhere else."

"Oh."

Eddie smirked as Steve let out a breath and cleared his throat.

"I have a shift in the morning, but I can be home right after lunch?"

"Perfect." Eddie started pacing as he mentally planned what he needed for his four hour drive. "Grab some lube if you don't have some. We've got a lot of time to make up for. Oh! And before I go, I love you too."

"You do?"

"Yeah, Stevie. Kind of been head over heels for the better part of a year."

"Oh."

"Mhm."

"Tomorrow?" Steve was smiling and Eddie could feel his heart melting.

"Tomorrow."

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddieholidaydrabbles #mutual pining #angst with a happy ending

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harrywavycurly · 7 months ago

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What You Deserve Part 5: Details

Masterlist: Here

CW: brief mention of toxic ex

Tag List: @littlered0000 @saramelaniemoon @ali-r3n @sapphire4082 @sweetmoonlove0214 @eddies-girl-22 @darknesseddiem @peaches-roses-sins @blckburd @comeonatmebruh @daisy-munson @cultish-corner @mrsjellymunson @aol19 @micheledawn1975 @2000babies

A/N: I hope y’all enjoy this update it answers some questions and shows another side of Eddie, it’s a long one and I broke it up into sections!✨

“What…are those?” “They’re called flowers.” “And who..are they for?” “They are for you…you didn’t expect me to show up to our first…date empty handed did you?” “This…this is a date? You’re calling this a date? We are on a date?” “Hey hey relax a bit please it’s okay…I just…I mean yes? I’d call this a date because it’s…well it’s when we are going to discus our…relationship so yeah…it’s a date.” “Okay…” “is that okay? It doesn’t need to be a date if it’s too-” “No no it’s a date…yeah we…are going on a date.” “Perfect…uhm do you want to maybe…get in the car now?”

“Holy shit.” “What’s wrong?…are you cold? You can wear my jacket if you’d like?” “Sorry I’m fine it’s just….I didn’t get a good look at you in the car because I was distracted by the flowers but…seriously…do you always just look like…this?” “Uh…yes?” “You…you look like you just walked out of a magazine and…well I look-” “Amazing…you look amazing…now unless you have anymore questions…we do have a reservation that we are almost late for.” “This place looks nice…you come here a lot?” “Oh yeah…I take all my first dates here.” “I can see why…” “you…do know I was joking right?… I’ve actually never been here before.” “Oh yeah…yeah I knew that.”

“So…uhm what are some things you…don’t want me to do?” “Oh right to the point huh? Can’t even let me order you a glass of wine first?” “You want to order…for me?” “Oh forgive me….I didn’t mean for it to sound like you can’t order yourself a glass of wine I know you’re more than capable of telling people what you want.” “It’s okay I’ve just…never had someone offer to order for me before.” “Well I’m more than happy to if you want…” “thank you…so-” “hi welcome to Enzo’s what can I get you to drink?” “Hello…I’ll have a glass of your house red and a water to start.” “Perfect…and for you dear? What would you like?” “Uhm…uh…there’s a lot of uhm choices…uh-” “if you’re not sure I can just come back?” “Uh Eddie can you-” “I’ve got you sweetheart…she’ll have a glass of your white wine and a water with lemon please.” “Excellent choice…I’ll get those right out to you.”

“So you asked easier what are some things I would prefer for you not to do…and that’s actually a tough question to answer because I don’t want you to feel like you have a set of rules to follow because you don’t…” “Okay…well there are uh some things…that uhm I’d like if you…didn’t…do.” “Such as?” “I don’t like being around uhm…men when they drink too much so…if you do want to go and get drunk please just…don’t invite me along or…show up at my house banging on my door or yelling my name from the front porch.” “Has…that happened before?” “Yes…several times…and each time it ended…badly.” “It ended badly?…do you mind explaining what that means?” “I don’t want to ruin…the mood by talking about what an asshole my ex is.” “Understandable…so what else would you like for me not to do?” “This one might sound a little odd but..I don’t like being called babe…it just…I don’t like it.” “It’s not odd…we all have names we don’t like to be called…is there anything else?” “I don’t think so.” “Well if you think of anything else…just let me know because I don’t want to do anything or say anything that’ll upset you.”

“How was your dinner?” “It was great…that place was really good and so cute I can see why you picked it for our…uhm first date.” “I’m glad you enjoyed it…do you mind taking a walk with me? I know we have a few more things to…discuss.” “A walk sounds nice…oh you’re a hand holder? I didn’t see that coming.” “Really? Why? Do I not look like someone who likes to hold hands?” “No you look like a…shove my hands in my jacket pocket type of guy or…let me act like I’m busy on my phone so no one bothers me kind of guy.” “I see…well your hands just looked too good not to hold.” “I have been told I have nice hands once or twice.” “You know what? I actually believe that…so I was wondering if we could talk more about what we both want out of this…and maybe set up some…boundaries of some sort?” “You start…what do you want from all of this Edward?” “Ah back to Edward are we?” “Oh shit sorry Eddie.” “It’s okay…well what I want out of this is just…to spend time with you doing things as simple as this…a walk around downtown or more…extravagant things like trips to wherever you’d like to go…but most importantly I just want to make your life easier.” “And…all of that would make…you happy?” “Yes…it would.” “I just don’t see how spending money on me will make you happy?” “It’s not necessarily about spending money on you…yes I have the money to spend but it’s about having someone to do things with…and knowing you’re not stressed or worried about things that I can…easily take care of for you.” “Okay…that kinda makes sense.” “I have managed to build this wonderful life for myself and…I just want someone to enjoy it with me that’s all.” “And that someone is me?” “If you want it to be.” “Okay…but you just have to know this is going to take some getting used to.” “I understand…you’ll have to be patient with me as well because I’m used to doing things alone.” “So we both have to be patient with one another…that can be one of our ground rules.” “Okay…if we are making ground rules let’s add honesty to that list…that’s a big one for me because I don’t have time for games…just tell me the truth…even if you think it’ll hurt my feelings.” “That’s a good one!”

“So…what about you? What do you want out of this?” “I just…I just want to know what it feels like to be…treated well.” “I promise you I can do that.” “Oh trust me…I know.” “Is there anything else you want or…need from me?” “There is one more thing.” “What is it?” “I need you to save Dave.” “You…need me to save…Dave?” “Yes because he means a lot to me and I just…I need you to save him.” “Okay sweetheart…I’ll save him.” “You promise?” “Yes…even if it means he gets a whole heart and brain transplant…I’ll save him.” “Oh thank god…I was so worried you’d tell me you can’t do it.” “Why wouldn’t I be able to do it? You don’t trust my abilities as a mechanic? That hurts…that actually hurts.” “Oh no no I’m sure you’re great with your hands and…getting dirty and…stuff i just…thought maybe you’d say it was a waste of money or something.” “I’ll be honest with you…I could buy you a new car for what it’s going to cost me to fix Dave but…I get it…he means a lot to you.” “Thank you Eddie.” “Anytime.”

“This…was really nice Eddie…thank you.” “I’m happy you had a good time.” “I just…I have one more question.” “I was waiting for this one…go ahead and ask it.” “What do I call you now that we…have set up the ground rules and are actually…moving forward with…this.” “What would you like to call me? Besides Edward.” “I…don’t know? What…do you want to call me?” “Is it wrong that my first instinct was to say mine?” “You…want to call me…yours? Like…like…I’m…yours?” “I would…but if that’s too assertive or makes you uncomfortable-” “I’d like that.” “You would?” “Yes…uh I…would.” “Okay…well you can call me whatever you’d like.” “Uhm does…that include like…boyfriend or…something?” “Sure…whatever feels comfortable.” “Okay…thank you again…for everything.” “You’re welcome…have a goodnight sweetheart…don’t forget to put those flowers in a vase with some water.” “I don’t own a-” “I’ll bring one by tomorrow.” “You don’t have to do that.” “I know…now I have a question for you.” “What is it?” “What time do you normally get up in the morning?” “Oh uhm…like nine or so on weekends.” “Perfect…I’ll be here at ten then….goodnight.” “Goodnight…uhm can you uh text me when you get home?” “Sure…can’t have you up all night worried about me.” “Exactly…” “You’re going to have to go inside or I’ll stand out here and find an excuse to keep talking to you all night.” “Oh..right…goodnight Eddie.”

#what you deserve series #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson au #eddie munson fanfic #sugar daddy!eddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #Eddie Munson #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things au #my little dungeon master baby

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yelena-bellova · 2 years ago

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Twenty Years Later: Joel Miller x F!Reader - Chapter Six

Chapter Six: Road Trip

Plot: Joel, Y/n and Ellie continue to make their way cross country, and Joel and Y/n’s truce is heavily tested.

Warnings: tlou ep.4 spoilers, language, insinuation of killing, mention of a p*rn magazine, guns, (16+)

Word Count: 7.1k

A/N: This chapter feels like filler, but there’s still lil’ nuggets that will come into play later. Thanks to HBO for throwing that curveball of a Friday episode, now I gotta hustle to get the next chapter out within two days 😂

As always, this series is 16+ and I will not be tagging anyone who does not have their age in their bio. Gotta look out for younger eyes 👀

I hope you all enjoy this one and prepare for the next one because….anyway, enjoy!

———————

June 2nd, 2002. Austin, Texas.

——————

Joel and Y/n had gone out for three weeks, equaling a total five dates. Between their respective work schedules and Joel being a parent, they had to get creative if they wanted to see each other. They’d meet on their lunch breaks or, if they were too busy, Joel would stop by the hardware store in dire need of help finding something and only Y/n could possibly help him. It gave them a good twenty minutes or so to wander the aisles together.

On a particularly slow Tuesday afternoon, Y/n was doing inventory. Joel and her had made plans to grab coffee on his way home and she was counting down the hours till he came through the door.

A small voice broke her out of her daydreams, “Excuse me?”

Y/n turned and met the face of a girl, no older than maybe thirteen. She had dark skin and a head full of curls pulled back with a scrunchie. She looked slightly out of breath, but determined.

“How can I help you?” Y/n asked curiously.

“Are you Y/n?”

She confusedly furrowed her brows, “Yeah…”

The girl huffed with a grin, “Okay, good. I asked, like, three other people where you were and they had no idea.”

Y/n awkwardly smiled along with her, “C-can I ask how you know my name?”

“Oh,” the girl snapped back to the current conversation, “I’m Sarah.”

“Sarah…” Y/n repeated, wracking her mental index of high school friend’s kids, before it hit her. Her eyes widened, “Wait…Sarah…Miller?”

She nodded, “Yeah.”

Y/n’s body locked up, to say she was surprised was an understatement. Joel had told her that he wanted to wait a while before introducing her to Sarah. He hadn’t had a serious girlfriend since Sarah’s mom and was trying to figure out the best way for them to meet. Y/n hadn’t taken any offense, she’d supported it, actually. She’d never dated anyone with a kid and she wanted to do everything as close to perfect as she could.

“D-does your-“ Y/n braced herself against her inventory cart, “Does your dad know you’re here?”

Sarah’s mouth twisted, “Not exactly.”

“Uh-huh,” Y/n replied, suspicious, “And not exactly means…?”

“Not at all,” Sarah nervously smiled.

Y/n gathered the little oxygen left in her body and laughed. “How did you get down here if you’re by yourself?”

Sarah shrugged, “I took the bus.”

“Ah,” Y/n nodded, “And you ride the bus alone without your dad’s permission a lot?”

The girl gave a guilty smile and balanced on the heels of her Converse. It was all the answer Y/n needed.

“So, why are you here?” Y/n asked, feeling like she was doing something wrong.

Sarah sighed, “I got tired of waiting for my dad to introduce me to you. I’ve asked him, like, ten times and he keeps saying no. I knew you worked here so…I figured this was the only way I could meet you.”

Y/n couldn’t help but be a little touched, and also terrified. She was more nervous about impressing Sarah than she had been Joel.

“I mean,” Y/n rubbed her forehead, “Yeah, I knew your dad was waiting to introduce us but…I didn’t realize his daughter was a secret mastermind.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Sarah smiled, resting a hand on Y/n’s cart, “So…you’re dating my dad.”

Y/n nodded, “Seems that way, yeah.”

“Well, he really likes you,” Sarah replied, “Like, really likes you. He’s in a way better mood than usual.”

“Is he now?” Y/n inquired.

“He’s smiling all the time, he’s cooking,” Sarah’s face turned serious, “Which never happens ‘cause he kinda sucks at it. He’s even singing.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, “Singing?”

Sarah nodded, “Uh-huh. Just under his breath, but still…”

Y/n was trying hard to restrain her grin, but Sarah was making it difficult. It was nice to know Joel was as uplifted by their short time together as she was. She’d practically been floating down the aisles.

“He’s just never this happy and…” Sarah shrugged one arm, “I really wanted to meet whoever was responsible.”

“Well,” Y/n smiled, “Your dad’s pretty great. And he loves you, never stops talking about how well you’re doing in school and in soccer…”

Sarah’s posture visibly improved upon hearing the compliments.

“Look, my dad’s never going to work up the nerve to let us all hang out together,” Sarah began to explain, “But the county fair’s on Friday night, me, him and Uncle Tommy are gonna go and it would be really fun if you came.”

Y/n inhaled deeply, a family outing. Was she ready for that? Were her and Joel at that point?

“I don’t know, Sarah,” she hesitate, “I should really talk to your dad first.”

“No,” Sarah urged, taking hold of one of Y/n’s hands, “He’ll just get all squirmy and frown and say that it’s not time yet.”

Y/n thought for a second, “He does frown a lot.”

“A lot,” Sarah chortled, Y/n joining in soon after, “Just think about it. Please?”

Y/n was between a rock and a hard place, or rather, the guy she was dating and his crafty daughter. She wanted Sarah to like her and they were already a step in the right direction. She didn’t want to blow it.

“Okay,” she relented, “I’ll think about it.”

“Yes,” Sarah cheered under her breath, still holding onto Y/n’s hand. “I gotta go, the bus is gonna be back any minute.”

As she moved to go, Y/n took a step forward. “I-I really don’t like the thought of you on the bus by yourself,” she objected, “Why don’t I drive you?”

“But you’re working,” Sarah replied.

Y/n gestured to the empty space around them. “I think they’ll survive without me for twenty minutes.”

Sarah gave a small smile, she was getting to spend more time with the woman she had a million questions about. Sneaking around had paid off substantially.

“Come on,” Y/n removed her apron, draped it across her cart and pulled her keys from her pocket, “You can tell me what your dad’s been singing on the way.”

The two girls headed out of the store, giggling to themselves as Sarah did an impression of her father humming old country tunes to himself while washing dishes.

—————————

Later that afternoon, Joel arrived to pick Y/n up for their quick coffee. When he arrived, she was nowhere to be found. After asking around, and finding out she had stepped out momentarily, he decided to wait at the empty checkout line for her.

Y/n walked back into the store with a new spring in her step. Sarah had not only spilled a lot of dirt on Joel, but she had talked about herself a lot. Y/n felt like she’d already been able to make a connection.

Joel spotted her before she did him, waving a little to catch her eye.

“Hey,” Y/n greeted, apprehension taking over.

“Hey,” Joel replied, his smiling fading the closer he got, “What’s that look?”

“What look?” Y/n asked, unaware of how nervous she appeared.

“You look like a kid with their hand caught in the cookie jar,” Joel smirked, taking her hand lightly into his, “What’s going on?”

Y/n sighed, she’d been trying to figure out how to broach the subject of Sarah all the way back to the store. Joel’s gentle touch was only heightening her nerves. “Why don’t I drive us to coffee?”

Joel squinted in confusion, “Okay…”

The two of them drove off in Y/n’s old Toyota, but she waited until they had their drinks in hand and were walking down the main street to start talking.

“So Sarah came by today,” she blurted out.

Joel nearly choked on the sip he’d been taking, “My Sarah?”

“Uh-huh,” Y/n nodded, anxiously holding the cup close to her chest.

“H-how’d she get down the-“ Joel began to ask before pressing his lips together and shutting his eyes, “She took the bus, didn’t she?”

“Yep,” Y/n answered.

Joel sighed, he was already starting to find grey hairs across his head. Sarah was going to turn the whole thing silver before she was 16.

“She said she was tired of waiting for you to introduce us so she was going to do it herself,” Y/n retold the story.

“Yeah, sounds like her…” Joel replied with a loud sigh, “Look, I know you wanted to meet her-“

“Yeah, but I was perfectly fine with waiting,” Y/n was quick to say, “You said you wanted to do this the right way.”

“Yeah, well, the right way was decided for us,” Joel sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “So what’d you two talk about?”

Y/n smirked over her coffee cup, details of the conversation still fresh in her mind. “Girl stuff,” she answered, quickly taking a drink.

“Why don’t I believe you?” Joel asked with an eyebrow cocked.

“She, uh, she invited me to the fair this weekend,” Y/n changed topics, “With you guys.”

“Ah,” Joel nodded, he didn’t know whether or not to thank Sarah for speeding his relationship up. Lord knows, he was too nervous to do it.

Y/n held a hand up to Joel, “But I didn’t give her an answer. I wanted to talk to you first.”

With the obstacle of Sarah’s approval out of the way, there was nothing to stop him from saying yes. And he didn’t want there to be, he was just used to using excessive caution around his family that anything else felt unnatural.

“You should come,” Joel answered, turning to Y/n with a shy smile.

Y/n inched back a little, placing her hand on Joel’s arm, “Are you sure? Joel, I don’t want to insert myself anywhere.”

“How can you insert yourself somewhere you were invited?” Joel replied, settling his hand over Y/n’s, “Come.”

Taking a deep breath, Y/n knew that this was a big step for them. Joel’s daughter was his world, and Y/n was being given the privilege of being a part of it.

She blew out her cheeks, “Okay.”

Joel’s smile was earnest, rubbing his thumb over the back of Y/n’s hand.

“If all goes well, I won’t have to hide you so much,” he said.

“Yeah, I don’t think you’re doing that great a job,” Y/n chuckled at Joel’s confusion, “Johnny Cash?”

Joel’s face turned sour, “Can’t believe she told you ‘bout that.”

“Hey, I thought it was a cute story,” Y/n held her hands up in surrender, “Your daughter thought it was a laugh riot.”

Joel lightly rolled his eyes, letting them rest afterwards on Y/n’s face. A stray bit of hair had fallen in her face, thanks to the breeze, and Joel brushed it away, cupping her cheek.

Joel and Y/n had made the decision that they wouldn’t take their relationship any further without having Sarah’s approval. They had yet to even kiss.

“If this works out,” Y/n started, “You’re not gonna be able to get rid of me.”

“Who says I want to?” Joel muttered, their close proximity allowed him to lower his voice.

They both knew if they stayed in the moment a second longer, their wills could cave. Y/n shoved her coffee cup between their mouths, allowing them both a breathy laugh.

“Come on,” Joel reached down and clasped Y/n’s hand, “I gotcha for a little while longer.”

The two of them walked off into the Austin evening, savoring every short second they got together.

—————

2023. Somewhere in rural America.

Joel, Ellie and Y/n had been driving for one day and no one had yet to end up in a body bag. A win if ever there were one.

That wasn’t to say they hadn’t come close. Joel and Y/n’s truce was an uneasy one and with the promise made to Ellie that they’d get along, their arguments had phased to thin lipped smiles barely concealing their disdain for one another. Still, their guns had stayed in the holsters. That was progress.

Joel pulled over at an abandoned gas station somewhere, needing to refuel. Ellie headed off to the bathrooms while Y/n and Joel went about setting up the siphon.

As Y/n handed Joel a rag, she noticed the state of his hand. It was still healing, and after using it so much in one day, it was beginning to shake.

48 hours ago, she would have let him suffer, but in the interest of a truce…

“Here,” she scooted closer, taking the siphon into her hand.

“I got it,” Joel protested.

“I know you do,” she placated him, gently prying his hand off the device, “Now move.”

She inched him out of the way and took over attaching the device. Joel crouched next to her in the dust, he felt useless if he wasn’t working.

Footsteps signaled that Ellie was coming back. She glanced over the abandoned car at Y/n and Joel.

“We have to do this every hour?”

“Gas breaks down over time,” Joel answered, “This stuff’s almost water. Back in the day, we’d drive 10, 12 hours on one tank. You could go anywhere.”

“So where’d you go?” Ellie asked.

Y/n continued working, bouncing the memories off that threatened to stick in her mind.

“Pretty much nowhere,” Joel answered, it was technically the truth, but so there was unclaimed life resting in his ‘pretty much.’

Y/n huffed a large breath into the siphon, the gasoline dripping into their canister.

“Nice,” Ellie complimented, “How does that work?”

“It’s a siphon,” Joel explained as Y/n monitored their levels, “It’s when liquid…travels against gravity because pressure-“

Ellie nodded smugly, “You don’t know.”

“I know it works,” Joel quickly replied.

Y/n smirked and looked over her shoulder, “Please teach us more about physics, professor.”

Joel frowned at his ex before turning his attention back to a walking Ellie, “No wandering.”

Ellie thought a moment, “Okay,” she went into her backpack, “This is your fault then.”

She whipped out a small paperback that made Y/n shut her eyes in exhaustion. “Oh, sweet Moses, not that book…” she muttered.

Joel started to speak, “Wha-“

“‘It doesn’t matter how much you push the envelope,’” Ellie recited, “‘It’ll still be stationary.’”

Joel blinked, Y/n let her forehead rest against the car.

“‘No Pun Intended: Volume Too’ by Will Livingston,” Ellie held up the book to Joel, “Volume Too. Look, you get it? Too? Like t-o-o?”

Joel mumbled something under his breath and got up.

“‘What did the mermaid wear to her math class?’” Ellie asked her captive audience, building tension in the silence, “‘An algae bra,” she laughed, “Like algae bra. ‘I stayed up all night-“

“No,” Joel shook his head, like that word carried an ounce of power with Ellie.

“‘Wondering where the sun went,” the girl continued, “‘And then it dawned on me.”

“Feel free to wait in the truck,” Joel suggested, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Well, Y/n thought it was funny,” Ellie retorted, she’d tested the jokes our on her watcher back in the QZ.

“I laughed at one out of, like, fifteen, Ellie,” Y/n grunted as she got to her feet, “That’s not the win you think it is.”

“Okay, but just know,” Ellie held up the book again, “You can’t escape Will Livingston. He’ll be back. There’s nothing you can do to stop him.”

Ellie took her backpack and her jokes and walked back to the Chevy, leaving Joel and Y/n by themselves.

“You get that book,” Joel started, trying to break the silence, “I’ll roll down the window.”

“Oh, that’s not even the worst of ‘em,” Y/n replied, wiggling the toe of her boot into the ground, “But they make her smile. Like I’m in any position to put a stop to that.”

Joel glanced over at Y/n, taking a temperature reading of her once again. It was hard to see so much of the person you’d once loved with your whole heart mixed with who they’d become. Every once in a while, he got flashes of his ex-girlfriend in the light she used to radiate. But something inevitably came through and blew out her flame. More than often, all it took was his mere presence.

“We should be good,” he said, changing his train of thought and kneeling down to pack up the siphon.

Y/n took the gas they’d collected and carried it back to the truck. Heavy as it was, she wasn’t about to ask Joel to help her. She’d lived through twenty years of their dystopian hell-space, a gas can wasn’t about to best her.

Once the truck was filled up, Joel and Y/n hopped in the front seats with Ellie sitting in the back.

“Must’ve been some truck,” Ellie commented, staring out the back window at the fleet deserted vehicles.

“Yeah, they used to stick big-ass plows on them and clear the roads for their tanks and such,” Joel said.

Ellie spun around in her seat, “I wanna see a tank!”

“You will,” Joel replied, “Tanks, choppers, all that stuff. But they’ll fight the wrong enemy. Just scattered around now.”

By now, Joel was background noise to Ellie as she dug around the back of Bill’s truck.

“I got somethin’,” she announced proudly, waving another cassette tape in between Y/n and Joel. “Here, does this make you all nostalgic?”

Joel took the tape from her, it was Hank Williams. Y/n and him shared a sideways glance, if Ellie had any musical knowledge, they’d have been insulted.

“This is actually before our time,” Joel handled the cassette.

“Great,” Ellie settled back in her seat, unamused.

“Doesn’t mean it’s not good,” Y/n stated, watching Joel pop the tape into the player and adjust the volume.

The speakers flooded with the warm sounds of the country legend. Something about it made both Joel and Y/n relax into their seats a little more.

“Oh, man,” Joel mumbled to himself, briefly closing his eyes and letting the music wash over him.

“Yeah,” Y/n absentmindedly replied, staring out her window.

“Got somethin’ else,” Ellie announced, the sounds of magazine pages flipping behind Joel and Y/n, “It’s, uh, light on the reading, but it has some interesting pictures.”

Y/n and Joel peered into the dashboard mirror, catching a graphic cover. Their protests overlapped.

“Oh, no, no, no, put that back.”

“Ellie, don’t read that.”

“That’s not for kids, Ellie.”

“There’s nothing you need to see-“

Ellie opened up the centerfold of the x-rated magazine, her jaw dropping at the sight, “How would he even walk around with that thing?”

“Ellie,” Y/n unbuckled her seat belt, flipping around in her chair and stretching into the backseat, “Put it back.”

The girl slid to Joel’s side of the truck, too far away for Y/n to reach. “Hold you horses,” she argued, “I wanna see what all the fuss is about.”

While Joel watched nervously through the mirror, Y/n was not so easily defeated. She kept clawing at the air, trying to rip the magazine out of Ellie’s hands. Ellie turned away just enough so Y/n’s fingertips barely touched the paper.

“Why are all the pages stuck together?” Ellie asked.

“Uh,” Joel elongated, unsure of what to do, “The-“

“I’m just fuckin’ with you,” Ellie burst into laughter, reaching past Y/n and slapping Joel’s shoulder with the magazine.

Y/n slid back into her seat, moving as far away as she could from Joel’s shoulder.

Ellie unrolled the back window, the whipping winds blowing through the truck. She tossed the magazine out with a grin, “Bye-bye, dude!”

Y/n sighed and put her hand to her temple, nearly laughing at the absurdity of the moment.

They drove for most of the day, answering Ellie’s occasional question, but mostly sitting in silence. Somberness would fall over the truck whenever they passed by some piece of the old world, ruined and rusted by time. They drove by an abandoned amusement park, a rickety coaster still standing. A sign for what used to be a Love’s truck stop. A bridge that had collapsed at some point in the last two decades. To Ellie, it was a lost future. To Joel and Y/n, it was the world they didn’t know if they’d ever see again.

When the skies grew began to grow dark, there wasn’t much driving left for them to do.

“All right,” Joel announced to the truck, “That’s enough for the day.”

One part of their agreement was that Y/n would trust Joel’s ability to get them to Wyoming. Her rebellion against his every word made her want to argue that they could go a little longer, but she was trying to keep up her end of the deal.

Joel pulled off the main road and drove them into the nearby forest. They set up camp deep enough that they were hidden, but close enough to the road to escape quickly, should the need arise. Joel and Y/n took care of preparing dinner, using a portable stove and cutlery they’d taken from Bill’s house.

Eventually, they all sat down to a lukewarm meal of ravioli. Ellie practically inhaled it while Joel and Y/n tried to make it last.

“Slow down,” Joel cautioned.

“This is slow,” Ellie replied with a full mouth, “What am I even eating?”

“That is 20-year-old Chef Boyardee ravioli,” Joel answered.

“That guy was good,” Ellie complimented, stuffing another piece in her mouth.

Joel stared down at his meal, “I actually agree.”

Y/n swirled a piece around her plate, “It’s technically food.”

“How long are we staying out here?” Ellie inquired.

“I figure I sleep tonight,” Joel answered, “And drive tomorrow, all day, all night, and get us to Wyoming by next mornin’.”

“You know I can take a shift, right?” Y/n asked, Joel’s stony silence served as his reply, “Ah, so you do know and you’re choosing to ignore it.”

“In the interest of gettin’ us there the quickest, it’s better I drive,” he stated.

“Yes, navigating a highway,” Y/n retorted, taking a sarcastic tone, “That’s men’s work.”

“What happened to getting along?” Ellie smirked as she watched the exchange.

Joel and Y/n glanced over at her and backed down. They had to watch themselves.

“So can we start a fire?” Ellie changed the subject, “I’m freezing.”

“Now, why am I gonna tell you no?” Joel replied shortly.

Ellie shrugged in defeat, “Because Infected will see the smoke.”

“No, fungus isn’t that smart,” Joel said, “This is too remote for Infected, anyway.”

“People?” Ellie came back with.

Joel nodded.

“So what are they gonna do? Rob us?”

“Oh, they’ll have way more in mind than that,” Joel answered, never once looking up from his plate.

Y/n had lived a vastly different life than Joel had, post apocalypse, but she knew the horrors people willingly committed against each other. Being cold for a night was the ideal.

Once the sun set, the three of them rolled out their sleeping bags, another courtesy of Bill and Frank, and set up for the night. Y/n laid her head next to Ellie’s, while Joel stayed on the complete opposite side of them.

Ellie took a whiff of the inside of her bag, “Actually smells kinda good.”

“Well, that would be Frank’s then,” Joel quipped.

“If mine smells like gunpowder,” Y/n held her sleeping bag up, “I’m gonna assume-“

“Bill,” Joel took no time in answering.

Y/n nodded, “Copy that.”

Before they could lay down for the night, Joel and Y/n made a point of each checking their shotguns and laying them at their sides.

Ellie and Y/n nestled into their accommodations beside one another, Ellie pulling something out of her backpack before switching the lantern off and turning on her flashlight. Y/n’s back was turned, or else she would have put a stop to what was about to happen

“Joel?” Ellie eventually called out, “Y/n? Joel?”

“What?” Joel jumped to attention, he still moved with the urgency of a father.

Y/n turned over, “What is it?”

“Can I ask you a serious question?”

“Yeah,” Joel said for both of them.

Ellie sighed deeply, “‘Why did the scarecrow get an award?’”

Y/n and Joel both looked over at the same time to shoot Ellie a glare. She kept a straight face as if she really needed the answer.

“Because he was outstanding in his field,” Joel answered.

Y/n groaned, “Oh, God, there’s two of you.”

“You dick,” Ellie laughed, “Did you read this?”

“No,” Joel turned over, smirking only to himself, “Now go to sleep.”

Ellie victoriously smiled, having successfully chipped away at a little bit of the ice man’s exterior.

“Admit it,” Ellie whispered to Y/n, “You like them.”

“I will smother you in your sleep,” Y/n mumbled into her pillow. She’d never admit to cracking a smile.

They had just settled back into the sleepy silence when Ellie spoke up again, this time truly serious.

“Those people you said…there’s no way anyone knows we’re here, right? No one’s gonna find us.”

Joel and Y/n both stiffened, they could only guarantee so much. Where they were was as close to safe as they could get. But that wasn’t something you told a scared kid who wouldn’t admit to being scared. You gave them hope, confidence.

“No one’s gonna find us,” Joel confirmed.

“Okay,” Ellie accepted the answer and flipped over.

Y/n lay on her back, staring up at the stars. Her paranoia had softened the longer she survived, but laying in the middle of the open woods with a big flashing red sign above that read ‘FREE KILL HERE’ was resuscitating it.

A few feet away, Joel was feeling the same thing. He couldn’t pretend like he was fearless leaving himself completely vulnerable. And now that he knew Ellie was nervous, it only woke him up further. He eyed the shotgun, calculating in his head how little sleep he could make the drive on. If he counted on Y/n to take one of the shifts, they could still make good time…

They both unzipped their sleeping bags at the same time, turning to one another in the dark. No matter how hard they tried, they were on the same wavelength.

Y/n sighed, “You take the first shift?”

Joel’s nod had a heaviness to it, “Yeah.”

Y/n settled back onto her side, this time facing where Joel was heading to take up his post. She fell into an uneasy sleep, only after keeping watch over Joel until her exhaustion forced her to stop.

——————

It was a few hours later, Joel eyelids were beginning to droop. His ears were beginning to ring. He needed sleep.

After doing one last scan of the area, he walked back to their campsite. He came over to Y/n’s sleeping bag, ready to wake her, but stopped.

He stared down at her, her lips slightly parted, her hair framing her face and her lashes fanned across her cheeks. The frown she carried throughout the day faded in sleep, softening to a content expression as if she was between the bliss of unconsciousness and the evil of the waking world. It was the most at peace Joel had seen her in the last few days.

He couldn’t bring himself to wake her up.

She’d be mad at him in the morning, he knew it. She’d berate him for thinking he didn’t need her and probably make a crack about him falling asleep at the wheel. That was fine, he thought as he went back to his post, he’d take it. Anger and nostalgia were waging a battle within him, and right now, he was allowing his wistful memories to win.

——————

Y/n woke up to the smell of coffee brewing and the rustling of something in their truck. Seeing that Joel wasn’t in his sleeping bag, she grabbed her shotgun and bolted upright. The barrel of the weapon found Joel, packing up the truck, cocking a brow at her.

Y/n exhaled and set down her gun, running a relieved hand over her face. “You didn’t wake me up,” she said when she came to fully.

“I had it covered,” Joel said softly, not wanting to wake Ellie yet.

“I didn’t ask that,” Y/n replied as she stretched, already annoyed with him. She rolled out of her sleeping bag and got to her feet. “Well, I’m driving this morning. I’m not ending up dead just because you’re stubborn.”

Joel didn’t look up as he tied his sleeping bag up. Right on cue.

“Coffee’s on,” he changed the subject.

Y/n felt like Joel knew that would distract her enough to move on. He wasn’t wrong. She reached over to grab her backpack, feeling around for her travel mug. Her hand graced the plastic butterfly she’d taken from Joel’s apartment, freezing as she did.

Grief, much like heartbreak, had to be danced around. If you got too close, self destruction would swallow you whole. Y/n collected her thoughts and led them back to where she was, quickly finding her mug and zipping the pack up again.

Ellie rolled over, awake finally, and sniffed the air. She scooted over to where Joel had the coffee boiling and carefully opened the lid.

“Ugh,” she gagged, “What the fuck is that?”

Joel turned to her, “You don’t like coffee?”

Ellie grimaced, watching the bubbling brew a second longer before throwing the lid back down and rolling back onto her pillow.

“Uh-uh,” Y/n shook her head, nudging Ellie with her boot, “Up and at ‘em, come on.”

Ellie stuck her middle finger out, “Fuck you, man.”

“Up,” Y/n repeated, tugging on the bottom of Ellie’s sleeping bag.

The girl moaned and sat up, glaring at Y/n, who went to pour her mug of coffee. Whether it was the first sip of caffeine shifting her mood or she simply was making an effort, she wasn’t sure, but when Joel walked over with his mug, Y/n poured it for him.

“Thanks,” Joel mumbled, “Why don’t I drive for three hours, you take over after?”

“Two,” Y/n countered, “Those bags under your eyes make you look like you’re in a fucking Tim Burton movie.”

Joel sighed, remembering the truce. “Fine.”

Y/n and Joel finished packing up their supplies and the three of them were back on the road in minutes.

“Is that what the Starbucks in the QZ used to sell?” Ellie asked, eyeing Joel’s mug.

“Well, there’s was a lot fresher than what Bill saved up, but yeah,” Joel answered, “This is what they sold.”

“The world used to run on this stuff,” Y/n added.

“Smells like burnt shit,” Ellie mused, smirking over at Joel.

Joel, straight faced as could be, raised his mug and took a big slurping sip. Y/n bit down on her lip to keep from rewarding him a laugh.

“Eyes on the map,” Joel ordered.

“76 west and then 70 west for, like, ever…” Ellie read, Y/n had taught her how to navigate directions and she was still getting the hang of it.

“Where in Wyoming did you say your brother was?” Ellie asked Joel.

“Last contact came through a radio tower close to Cody,” Joel answered.

Ellie scanned the map, “Cody. Cody…Cody…ah, man. That is deep up in there.”

Y/n peekd over Ellie’s shoulder to take a look, “Do you know where he would have gone other than there?”

“Odds are he’ll be near a settlement,” Joel answered, “Probably close to another city out there. Ain’t too many of ‘em in Wyoming.”

The second part of his reply was meant more for Ellie. She was getting a crash course in geography.

“Chee-Yen,” she read off.

“Cheyenne,” Joel corrected, he’d studied that map so intensively that he could have found his way around the state blindfolded.

“Chey- really?” Ellie double checked before reading again, “Cheyenne…Laramie…Casper? What’s his name?”

“Whose name?” Joel asked, avoiding the question another five seconds.

“Your brother,” Ellie replied.

Joel paused, “Tommy.”

A wave of nostalgia crashed around Y/n, hearing his name made her think of cheap beer and belly laughter.

“Younger or older?” Ellie continued to question Joel.

“Younger.”

“Why isn’t he with you?”

Joel sighed, stretching his neck out slightly, “A long story.”

“Is it longer than 25 hours? ‘Cause I think that’s what we got,” Ellie asked, turning around to Y/n, “Do you know?”

“No, I don’t,” Y/n clocked Joel in the dashboard mirror, “And if I’m risking my life to find him, I think I deserve to know.”

Joel met her eyes in a fleeting glance, she was backing him up against a wall.

“Tommy’s what we used to call a “joiner,” he began to explain, “Dreams of becomin’ a hero. So he enlisted in the Army right outta high school. A few months later, they ship him off to Desert Storm,” he allowed for Ellie’s confused gaze, “That’s what they called that war, it doesn’t matter. Point is, bein’ in the Army didn’t make him feel much like a hero. Cut to twelve years late, outbreak happens. He convinces me to join a group makin’ their way up to Boston, which I did…mostly to keep an eye on him, keep him alive.”

Y/n’s stomach turned, she wasn’t just hearing about what had become of Tommy…she was hearing about what had happened to Joel after they broke up. Gaps she’d wanted filled for twenty years.

“It’s where we met Tess,” Joel continued, breaking for a sip of coffee, “And that whole crew, we, uh…well, for what it was, it worked. And then Tommy meets Marlene. She talks him into joinin’ the Fireflies. Same mistake he made when he was eighteen,” Joel’s tone turned bitter, his voice quivering an almost undetectable amount, “Wants to save the world. Pipe dream. Him. Fireflies, all of ‘em…” he didn’t dare meet Y/n’s eyes, “Delusional.”

Y/n lifted her feet up and hugged her knees, she knew the remark was meant for both her and Tommy. And while her anger with Joel hadn’t lost its momentum, she let him continue. He needed to get it all out.

“‘Course last I heard, he quit the Fireflies too,” Joel went on, “So now he’s on his own out there, and…I gotta go get him.”

The car was washed in a somber silence. Only one of them was brave enough to break it.

“If you don’t think there’s hope for the world,” Ellie said, “Why bother going on? I mean, you gotta try, right?”

“You haven’t seen the world,” Joel said, a little wistful, “So you don’t know. You keep goin’ for family. That’s about it.”

The five words pierced through Y/n’s heart, the wooden arrow splintering inside the chambers. Each syllable was like taking a knife to the carefully placed stitches around her soul.

“I’m not family,” Ellie said, blissfully unaware of the situation surrounding her.

“No,” Joel agreed, “You’re cargo. And I made a promise to Tess. And she was like family.”

Numbness set in and Y/n rested her head against the window, focusing on the rolling fields of rural America. If Ellie wasn’t in the car, she would have let herself go off on Joel, but it wasn’t the time.

“What if you don’t find him?” Ellie asked the man.

“I will,” Joel replied,

“How do you know?”

“I’m persistent,” Joel stated before switching gears, “You got up pretty early, if you wanna grab more sleep.”

Ellie scoffed, “I’m not even tired.”

Within a few minutes, Ellie was beginning to doze off. Y/n gently tapped her shoulder, gesturing for her to climb into the backseat. She helped pull her through and Ellie settled against the opposite window.

Joel drove them for an hour in silence before Y/n couldn’t stand being still anymore.

“Pull over,” she told him, “Let’s switch.”

Joel was tired enough to listen to her, stopping the car in the middle of the road. They unbuckled and got out, meeting at the front.

“You’re wrong, you know,” Y/n said once they were face to face, “About Tommy, about the Fireflies…all of it.”

“You wanna prove me wrong, have at it,” Joel replied, disgruntled by the whole idea.

“Tommy wanting to be a hero is him wanting to help people,” Y/n kept going, “To fight. To do the right thing. When has that ever been a bad thing?”

Joel nearly scoffed, “Maybe when it gets him killed.”

“If he’s still here after all these years, maybe you need to stop looking at him like he’s some idiot kid. You don’t get to judge the people who are trying to get some of this,” Y/n spread her arms out to the wide open space around them, “Any of this back. It’s a hell of a lot more than you seem to be doing.”

Joel rested a hand on the truck’s hood, “Maybe I don’t feel the need to waste my time on a pointless cause. Last time I checked, that was all the Fireflies ever accomplished.”

“At least I’m doing something,” Y/n fought back, “I’d rather spend the rest of my life on a pointless cause and go to sleep with what’s left of my soul than sell it to the devil and not recognize my own damn reflection.”

Joel felt the last part of her sentence push into his gut like the tip of a spear. She was hitting too close to home without knowing it.

“‘Keep going for family,’” Y/n repeated, practically spitting the last words, “When was the last time you fought for anything?”

Joel reached out, grabbing Y/n’s arm roughly as she turned away and spun her around. If she hadn’t dug her boots into the asphalt, she would have fallen right into him.

“You don’t know what I’ve fought for,” he growled, his eyes boring into hers.

Y/n’s chest rose and fell rapidly with rage, inching her face closer to his to show him she wasn’t afraid of him. “Neither do you,” she seethed.

Their breaths mingled in the few inches left separating their mouths. Neither one of them were making any real threats, there was simply too much tension between them to ensure a safe car ride. They needed to let it out.

Joel realized his fingers were digging into Y/n’s arm, it had happened when she had moved closer to him. Habits were tricky to break, but the body didn’t hold grudges like the mind.

The close proximity wasn’t lost on Y/n, but she was able to free herself from it before muscle memory took over. She yanked her arm out of Joel’s grip and took the keys from his other hand, stomping around to the driver’s seat and getting in. Joel unhappily followed, and their wordless journey continued…

—————————

Joel caught maybe thirty consecutive minutes of sleep while Y/n drove them. It wasn’t that she was a bad driver, he just wasn’t used to not being in control of a situation. He gripped the map tightly as they drove into downtown Kansas City.

Surrounding them were rusted abandoned vehicles, but the tunnel in which they needed to go through was blocked entirely by a semi. Y/n brought the car to a halt, glancing over at Joel knowingly.

“Wait here,” she told Ellie, who had just woken up.

Joel and Y/n got out, Joel grabbing their shotguns from the backseat. He handed hers over and the team took calculated steps towards the tunnel. Joel crouched down to get a peek at the open road waiting on the other side of the mess. The semi was parked that way deliberately.

Joel walked back to the truck, Y/n only a step behind him. They got back in their seats seat, Ellie squeezing over the glove compartment.

“Where are we?”

“Kansas City,” Joel answered quickly, taking the map from her. The three of them studied it.

“How far back do we have to go to get around this?” Ellie asked.

Joel traced their route with his fingertip, Y/n tugged the map closer so she could study it too. There weren’t a lot of options if they had a prayer of getting to Wyoming within their time frame. They could either go back, costing them a few more hours, or take their chances passing through the city.

Y/n sighed, everything she was about to say went against what she wanted to say….

“It’s your call.”

Joel was honestly surprised that she had relented so quick. “Screw it,” he muttered, “Head back ‘round the tunnel, get on the next ramp. We’ll be back on the road, minute tops.”

Y/n put the truck in reverse and backed them up, swinging around a shoulder of road that would take them into the city.

“You guys are my eyes,” Y/n said as she navigated the first set of streets,

“Tell me where to go.”

“Look for any signs,” Joel instructed while Ellie read the map.

They drove for about five minutes, having gotten no closer to finding the open road.

“Where the fuck is the highway?” Joel complained.

“I can’t tell from this,” Ellie let her hand fall against the map, “I’m all turned around.”

Joel was trying to help Ellie navigate while also keeping an eye peeled for potential threats. “Well, don’t look at the state map, look at the inset,” he directed.

Ellie groaned, “Well, I don’t know where we are in that either! This is my second day in a fucking car, man. I mean, I think we’re heading north?”

“I don’t even see any fucking signs,” Y/n mentioned.

“It’s gotta be the right,” Joel said, shaking his head, ”What the fuck?”

“Y/n stop,” Ellie exclaimed.

Y/n threw on the brake, bringing them to a halt in the middle of the street.

“Is that the QZ?” Ellie asked, her eyes wide as she peered over Y/n, “Where the fuck is FEDRA?”

Joel and Y/n got a look at where the Quarantine Zone should have been, zero military presence. That was unfathomable.

“Hey,” a voice called, their attention was drawn to a man limping towards their truck, “Please help.”

Y/n and Joel’s blood ran cold, they knew exactly what was about to go down.

“Put your seatbelt on,” Joel told Ellie, throwing his on as well.

“Aren’t we gonna help him?” Ellie asked innocently.

Y/n said a silent prayer to anyone who was listening for survival.

“No,” Joel answered, looking to his ex, “Drive. Now.”

Y/n pressed her foot down on the gas pedal, the “injured” leaping out of the way. The man cried something out she couldn’t hear over the blood pounding in her ears.

“Y/N!” Ellie screamed.

Y/n was too busy driving to see what Ellie and Joel were watching, but the message was received when a large object got dropped on their windshield. Y/n swerved, Joel reached over to steady the wheel as she regained control. In their mad dash effort, they didn’t notice the strip of nails ahead of them. The truck shook as its tires began to deflate.

“Fuck!” Y/n yelled, “What do we do?”

“Hard right into that building,” Joel shouted, there was another guy in their path, “Now!”

Instincts ignored, Y/n pulled to the right, holding her breath as they smashed through the glass windows of the nearest building.

——————

TYL Taglist: @bachiracore @stolenxkissess @kayleezra @the-wistful-reader @allthesesonsofbitches @goth-detectives365 @trippovert @rh1nestonecowg1rl @emiliaserpe @khaleesihavilliard @frietiemeloen @gracie7209 @dorck26 @thegirlnextdoorssister @alanis-altair @mariwinns16 @whosscruffylooking @endofthexline @alexiaricciardo @eonnyx @pedrosmexicangf @scarlettequinn @ao-sleepy @toinfinityandbeyonce2 @deanlovescassie @turmoil-ash @sorrowjunky @kpopslur @xxlilyxx90 @midgetpottermills @presidential-facts @scoopsnini @tubble-wubble @jamesdeerest @burninggracesandbridges @star-wars-lover @lucyhotchner @cococola-cocaine @witheringhqarts @fall-writes @alwaysdjarin @xxmoonn @emilia-the-artist @wand-erer5 @boneyarrd @lizard-zombie @itwasallinmyhead1 @cassidylea123 @paleepeaches @mxltifxnd0m @kettlekatie @ultimate-cinephile @gloryekaterina @caramelkatsukis-bitch @whovianayesha @memeorydotcom @deadunicorn159 @get0ut0fmyr00m @siriuslymooned @emmyeed @superbreadsoul @hellu-people1 @ourautumn86 @inas-thing @noraapple05 @givemylovetoall @luvwanda

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #the last of us imagine #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #twenty years later

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months ago

Text

Treat You 4

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, violence, abuse, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (Tall!reader)

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

Around noon, you think about leaving. You should head out before you grow bothersome. As you slide your laptop into the crochet bag, that man approaches. The young one with the bright brown eyes.

“You leaving?” He asks. His apron is gone and he has one of the flat cafe boxes in his hands.

“Yeah, should go,” you stand, at least half a foot taller. You slope your shoulders and bend your neck, “got a long way to go.”

“Oh, yeah? You walking?” He asks.

You stare at him, hesitantly nodding.

“I’m done. Half-shift today so… yeah. Um, could I walk with you?”

You blink, “why?”

He chuckles, “because I want to.”

You look down and hook your bag over your shoulder, “you don’t have to… you already gave me the tea–” your lip starts to tremble, “you don’t have to be nice because you think I’m pathetic.”

“I don’t think that,” his tone turns steely, “I just thought… we seem close to the same age and you’re nice so, well, yeah, I don’t have a lot of friends and I was hoping…”

“Oh.”

He shifts his weight on his feet, “oh?”

“I didn’t think…” you trail off and shrug, raising your eyes meekly. “I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t insult you.”

“No, you didn’t. You couldn’t,” he lets himself smile again. “It’s a nice day. I wouldn’t mind a walk.”

“Hm, well, maybe halfway,” you agree.

“Sure.”

You twist your finger in your fist, not sure what to do next. He outstretches his arm towards the door, “you first.”

You slouch and go to the door, pushing outside and stepping quickly out of Peter’s way as you hold it open. He follows and you let go. You turn and head back along your usual route. He catches up and keeps pace with your long legs.

“Do you like strawberries and cream?” He asks as he flips up the lid of the box, “special scones. They’re yummy.”

“Oh, uh, that’s nice but…”

“You haven’t eaten,” he offers the box to you.

“I’m not hungry,” you argue but your belly rumbles in rebellion. You hang your head in embarrassment.

“It’s fine, I just need to save one for May.”

“May? You’re girlfriend?”

“My aunt,” he fills in and takes a scone, shoving it in your direction. “Come on, you think I can finish all these?”

You accept it and chew your lip. You walk to the corner before you dare to take a bite. It crumbles and you try to catch the mess with your hand. It’s so good and sweet it makes your empty stomach squeeze.

“Good?” He asks.

“Mhm,” you hum.

“So, you got a boyfriend waiting at home? You can take one for him.”

“Boyfriend,” you murmur, “no…”

“Ah, not that far in yet.”

“No boyfriend,” you insist.

“Right, well, me too. No boyfriend, no girlfriend,” he laughs.

You’re quiet as you nibble on the scone. You take measured bites, both savouring the taste and trying not to show how ravenous you really are. You don’t often get treats like this. You don’t always eat in a day.

“Shame about your computer. You know, I’m a bit of a techy, I could try to fix it,” he says.

“No, that’s okay, it’s… broken.”

“Never know if you don’t try,” he suggests.

“I can’t pay you to fix it.”

“That’s fine, I didn’t say anything about money.”

“So why would you want to?”

“Well, I thought we were making friends. Friends help each other out.”

“Friends.”

“Yeah, actually, I was gonna ask, do you like video games?” He chimes.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” He echoes.

“Never played em.”

“Never… well, guess what? I got a few friends coming over, you could tag along, we could play some MarioKart.”

“Wouldn’t be any good,” you mutter.

“You’d be great,” he insists, “It’s Friday night, if you’re interested. I can give you my phone number.”

“Don’t have a phone,” you grumble, looking away in embarrassment.

“Well, you could have my email.”

“Computer’s busted.”

“Yeah, right, forgot,” he sighs, “well, how about if you’re interested, you could meet me at the cafe on Friday. At three? My shift ends then.”

“Maybe,” you reply evasively and take the last bite of scone.

“You live alone then?” He asks.

“My dad…”

“Oh, that’s cool. Just you and your dad?”

“Mom remarried.”

“Ah,” he accepts coolly, “it’s just me and Aunt May. My parents are gone and Uncle Ben passed a few years ago.”

You gulp as a shiver rolls over you. You feel awful for him. You can complain about your dad’s outbursts but at least he’s still around.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t, please, I’m lucky, I got May and now you, right? Cause we’re friends.”

“Sure,” you stop at the crosswalk and turn to him, “it’s far from here. I can go on my own.”

“I don’t mind.”

“You live around here?” You wonder.

“No, actually, the other way, but I’ve been standing behind a counter all day–”

“You worked. You should go home,” you say.

He sniffs as his smile falls, “do you think you’ll come on Friday?”

You think about it. After all he’s done, the tea, the scone, and just being kind, you shouldn’t say no.

“Okay.”

“Okay? Yay!” He claps his hands and you wince. “I’ll see you Friday at three.”

“Friday,” you confirm, “er, bye then.”

“Bye,” he chirps back, “be safe, alright.”

You hum and cross the street. As you get to the other side, you look back. He stands and watches you. You give a tiny wave and keep going, walking until you’re certain he’s out of sight.

You hope your dad’s calmed down. He usually has by now. You stop just a block away from the building. You can’t make yourself go any further.

You turn and head down to the small park behind the pharmacy. You find a bench to sit on and bring your bag into your lap. You peek inside, examining the cracked edge of your laptop. You wonder if you still have your library card laying around, though you don’t know if you can scrape up the money to pay for the computer time.

You look up and your head snaps around as you see a spec at the corner of your sight. It’s nothing. Just the old swings and slide. Probably just a robin or piece of trash blowing by.

#peter parker #dark peter parker #dark!peter parker #peter parker x reader #series #drabble #au #the club #treat you #spider-man #avengers #mcu #marvel

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 6 months ago

Text

Shh! Pt. 2

Summary: The hangovers are very real for Dean and Y/N. Will they notice the artwork on the fridge?

Pairing/Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N

Warnings: None. This second part is pretty much all fluff too.

Word Count: 2,693 (This part was a bit longer than the first. Sorry!)

A/C: Okay, so the first part of Shh! was actually just supposed to be a one shot, fic request. But I got a fair few requests for a sequel about the morning after, and I wanted to know what happened too. So, here it is. Lol! I had a lot of fun writing the two parts to this little story. Hope you have fun reading them. ❤️

It was requested that I tag @arcannaa if I made a second part. So, here ya go, lovely. Let me know if you'd like to be added to one of the tag lists linked below. ❤️

Part 1 is here || Main Master List || Tag Lists

The Next Morning:

Dean's groan was deep and long and ended in one word. “Fuck.”

“Shh…” Y/N held her head in her hands as she sat up. “Why are you so loud?” She asked, and her voice sounded as dry and cracked as the Sahara.

“No, you're so loud.” Was Dean's witty rejoinder as he sat up beside her.

They both turned their heads to look at each other and groaned again. Y/N looked around the room and her brow creased with confusion.

“Why am I here?”

Dean grunted. “I'm a little too hungover for an existential crisis.”

Y/N pursed her lips, side eyeing him. “No, idiot. I mean why am I here in your bed? Why aren't I in my own bed?”

Dean rubbed his hand down his face. “Well, your bed is about 2 hours away, which probably explains the sleepover.”

Y/N hummed her agreement and pointed at him, conceding the point. “Yeah, I guess neither of us was in the best shape to drive.” She paused and then scowled. “We didn't, right? I mean, we didn’t drive home.”

She squinted at Dean who was shaking his head. “Nooo…” His tone said that was impossible, but then he tilted his head. “Right? There’s no way we would have been that stupid.”

Y/N shook her head and then stopped when the room started spinning. She rubbed her temples with her fingertips. “No, we must have taken a cab. We must have.”

It was silent while both of them tried desperately to remember something from the night before.

Dean sat up straight. “Rainbow Connection!” He said suddenly.

Y/N turned to look at him again and one eye brow was raised. “Are you stroking out?”

Dean waved at her. “No, the cab. I remember we took a cab cause I remember being in it and singing ‘Rainbow Connection’.” He closed his eyes. “I really don’t remember why though.”

Y/N gasped softly, remembering something. “Rambeau.”

Dean opened his eyes to look at her and his expression was all confusion. “Uh…Rocky II. We just naming Stallone movies?”

Y/N made a sound of disgust. “No, B - E - A - U, Rambeau, not Rambo.” When Dean still just stared at her blankly, she sighed and rolled her eyes. “It was the driver’s name, remember. But you thought he -”

“ - said Rainbow!” Dean finished, snapping his fingers. “Right! That’s when we started singing it.” He nodded, happy with their mental sleuthing, and then he shook his head.

“Man, I hope we gave him a big tip.”

Y/N chuckled and then took a big breath. “K, I need coffee, stat. Like a vat of coffee, like, this is a hook-it-to-my-veins kinda situation.”

Dean grunted his agreement and they both pushed themselves up from the bed with a painful groan. Dean grabbed Y/N’s wrist as they were leaving the room. “Wait, do you remember…did we talk to Sam last night?”

Y/N just shrugged. “Dude, I have no idea.”

“Huh…I feel like we did.” Dean said quietly as he padded towards the kitchen with Y/N trailing just behind him.

When they got to the kitchen Y/N collapsed onto one of the seats at the table and cradled her head in her hands.

Dean walked to the coffee maker and his face lit up.

“Oh, thank god for a little brother who gets up at the butt crack of dawn to go running to nowhere in particular. He made the coffee already!” He grabbed two cups and brought them and the pot to the table.

Y/N inhaled deeply, pulling the aroma of the coffee into her lungs. “Do you have cream?”

Dean made a face. “Cream? God no; this is a black coffee household, Y/N. You should know this.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and smiled. “Yes, of course. Only manly black coffee for the Winchesters. How foolish of me.”

Dean shot her a grin and nodded in the direction of the fridge. “Might be some milk in the fridge.”

Y/N groaned again as she dragged herself up and stumbled blindly towards the fridge. She looked back at Dean as she pulled open the door. “I swear to God it feels like my muscles are about two minutes away from seizing up all together.”

Dean chuckled as Y/N looked into the fridge and shook her head. “There is nothing resembling milk in this fridge.”

“In the back?”

“Dean, there is no ‘back’ to this fridge. You’ve got three beers and leftover pizza that’s harder than the cardboard box it’s in.” She said as she peered inside. As Dean began rummaging around at the coffee station, she picked up a piece of the pizza and banged the crust against the box.

“That’s just sad.” She muttered.

“Score!” Dean called out just as Y/N closed the fridge door. “Found something called Coffee Whitener! Not CoffeeMate, it’s literally just called coffee whitener.”

“Uh…Dean?”

Dean’s face fell into a frown. “Actually, I don’t know how old this is.”

“Dean.”

“Might be from the fifties.” Dean mumbled. “Cause for the life of me I can’t remember Sam or I ever buying -”

“Dean!” Y/N yelled.

Dean grimaced as her shout made his head pound. “What? Jesus, why are you yelling?”

Y/N was pointing at the fridge door. “What the fuck is this?”

Dean set down the coffee whitener and walked over. “What the fuck is what?”

Y/N just kept pointing as Dean came up beside her to see two wrinkled up pieces of paper stuck to the fridge.

As he read the words he felt his heart clench. He read both letters twice.

He looked at Y/N slowly and couldn’t read what her expression was saying. He shook his head. “I - I mean, I dunno. Where did they come from?”

Y/N shrugged. “I don't know, but that’s my handwriting and…that’s yours. Do you…I mean, do you remember writing them?”

Dean shook his head. “No. I don’t remember. But, I mean…it must have…I mean, it had to be some kind of joke, right? Like we were messing around? Just some kind of drunken joke?”

Y/N was looking away from him, but he shrugged again. “I mean, don’t you think?”

She nodded and her face was scrunched up when she looked at him. “Had to be, right?”

He felt his heart plummet even as he nodded. “Right?”

“Yeah, we were just being stupid, fucking around.” She concluded quietly.

He nodded again. “Yeah.”

They were quiet for a minute before Y/N pointed towards the table. “So, did you say something about 1950’s coffee whitener?”

Dean forced a chuckle. “Yeah, come try it out, if you dare.”

They sat at the table and Dean poured them both coffee. In the end, Y/N just took a bit of sugar in hers, not willing to be a guinea pig for the decades old, mostly chemicals coffee whitener.

Silence reigned between them, neither of them able to push aside the words in the letters. Finally, Y/N couldn’t take the awkwardness and, pushing her coffee cup aside, she stood up.

“I should probably get going. I gotta shower and change and, you know, try to feel like a human again.” She said with a stilted laugh.

Dean nodded. “Yeah for sure. I’ll drive you.”

Y/N waved him down as he started to stand. “No, no. Don’t worry about it. I’ll just take the bus. There’s one that comes at 11:00. I’ve taken it before.”

Dean frowned. “Why the hell would you take the bus when I can just drive you.”

Y/N tucked her hair behind her ears nervously. She knew she wouldn't survive a two hour car ride, sitting so close to him but knowing she was never going to get any closer.

...it had to be some kind of joke, right? Dean's dismissive voice echoed in her mind.

So, she shook her head at him. “No, it’s okay. This way you can just rest and feel better. I like the bus. You know, I just put my music on and chill the whole way.”

“Right.” Dean said sardonically, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice. “Cause you know, if I drove you, we’d definitely be listening to an audio book about the sixteenth century Christian Reformation. No music in my car.”

Y/N laughed nervously. “No, I know…but…”

Dean just nodded again. “Yeah, okay. Well, have a good two hour bus ride, I guess.”

Y/N smiled. “I will. I’ll uh…I’ll call you.”

“M’kay.”

Y/N cleared her throat. “See ya.” She said with another plastered-on-smile as she left the kitchen.

“Yeah, see ya.” Dean answered quietly.

About an hour later Dean was still sitting at the kitchen table nursing an ice cold black coffee when he heard the bunker door slam. A minute later Sam walked into the kitchen in his running clothes, sweating and still breathing deeply.

He went to the sink to fill up his water bottle as he looked back at Dean with a smirk. “You look ill.” Dean just grunted and Sam chuckled as he took a sip of water. “Where’s Y/N?” He asked.

“Went home.” Dean answered shortly.

Sam frowned looking towards the fridge where the letters still hung. “Didn’t you guys see the letters?”

Dean’s head came up quickly and he stared at Sam. “What do you mean? Why do you know about them?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Who the hell do you think hung them up there?”

Dean shook his head, anger in his expression. “Why the fuck would you do something like that? Y/N saw them and freaked.”

“What?”

“I’m telling you. She saw what I wrote and couldn’t get out of here fast enough. Wouldn’t even take a ride home.” Dean said sullenly.

Sam set his water bottle down on the island, hard. “Oh my god!” He growled. “I might actually strangle you both.” When Dean just continued to frown at him, Sam shook his head. “Didn’t you each read the other’s letter? You guys wrote essentially the same thing to each other. Because you’re both so into each other. Jesus Christ.”

He pushed two hands through his damp hair. “I figured once you both saw it written out right in front of you, you’d realize that you’re both a couple of dumbasses!”

Dean shook his head. “No, she didn’t mean what she wrote. She thought it was some kind of drunken joke.”

Sam scowled. “She told you it was just a joke? She remembered writing her letter?”

“No, but I asked if she thought it was a joke and she said yeah, it had to be. Had to be because she has no interest in me like that.”

“Did she actually say that?” Sam asked, speaking over the end of Dean’s sentence, “Or did she just go along with you when you suggested it was a joke, because that’s what she thought you thought?”

When Dean didn’t answer Sam growled again in frustration. “For fuck’s sake this is ridiculous. I’m just gonna spell it out for you.” He walked over to stand in front of Dean at the table. “Y/N is madly in love with you.”

Dean scoffed, but Sam sliced his hand through the air. “No, shut up. She is in love with you and you are in love with her, and if you asked one single other person who knows you both, they’ll tell you the exact same thing. Because it is glaringly, abundantly, stupidly obvious, you dumbass. Now go find her at the station, tell her the truth and watch how quickly she tells you she feels the same.”

Dean was frowning. “That's not gonna happen.” But he could feel a spark of hope at his brother’s certainty.

Sam just glared.

He threw up his hands. “Okay, I’ll go.” He stood up and walked towards the door, stopping on the top step to look back at Sam. “But when she rips my heart out and I lose my best friend, you’re gonna be the one who has to deal with me.”

Sam rolled his eyes and pointed. “Go.”

All the way to the bus station, Dean was running through scenarios in his mind. As he parked outside, his watch said 10:50; was she already gonna be on the bus? Would it be like one of those horrible romcom things, where he had to chase her down through the crowd and then confess his love on a bus full of people. And if he did that, was Sam right? Would she love him back, or was it going to end up as - less funny romcom, more tragic farce?

He had the scenario half imagined in his head, but when he walked through the doors he was reminded that the Lebanon bus station was actually quite small so, no running from terminal to terminal looking for her. There were only two bus stalls outside to begin with, but also, she was sitting calmly on a bench just across from the door.

He walked towards her and her eyes got wide.

Fuck, I can’t do this. Why the fuck am I doing this? Dean thought over and over.

He stopped in front of her and she looked up at him, her face puzzled. “Dean? What are you doing here?”

He jammed his hands into his jacket pockets and rocked up on to the balls of his feet; he shrugged. “I don’t know, I just thought…I really wanna give you a ride home.”

Y/N frowned and lifted a hand towards the small ticket office. “I already bought my ticket.”

“Well, get a refund.”

“Why do you want to drive me home so badly?” Y/N asked loudly, frustration tinting her words.

“Why don’t you want me to?” Dean answered even louder.

Y/N let out a huff of air. “I don’t want you to not…I don’t not want…I want not t -” She broke off with a cry of frustration. “Ugh!!”

She looked up at him and her gaze was confused and questioning. “Dean, what is going on here?”

Dean shuffled from foot to foot for a minute, until Y/N started to speak again and he cut her off.

“The letter was true.”

He spoke quietly and he wondered if she’d heard him. He wasn’t sure he’d have the courage to say it again; as it was, he was staring at the ground, his stomach in knots.

“What?”

He shook his head and finally just decided it was all or nothing.

“My letter. What I wrote. It was true. I mean, it was drunken idiocy, but…” He raised his head and looked at her. “It was true.”

“Really?”

He wasn’t sure, but he thought he caught relief in her voice, so he smiled at her and gave a resigned nod.

“Yep. You are my good day.” He said, paraphrasing his letter. “I want kisses from you.” He paused a beat. “And also sex.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Sorry.”

Y/N’s smile was bright and beautiful as she leapt up and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thank god.” She bit her bottom lip and then quoted her letter. “I hope you will kiss me. All the time.”

Dean felt like his chest might actually burst from happiness as he grasped her waist and pulled her close.

“I can do that.”

He pulled her tight against him, capturing her lips in a kiss that he’d waited for for a very long time.

Y/N felt lightheaded with joy and with the headiness of Dean’s kiss. His lips were soft and searching as they pressed tightly to hers, and she opened to him immediately, reveling in the deep groan that tumbled out of him as he sank his tongue deep into her mouth.

They clung to each other, endlessly kissing, sharing breath and stealing each other's moans. Neither of them were one hundred percent sure they weren’t just in a very vivid dream, but both of them were determined that if it was a dream, they didn’t want to wake up.

The loudspeaker came on announcing that Y/N’s bus was boarding, but neither of them heard it, and neither of them cared. The ticket agent who’d sold her the ticket called out to her.

“Miss, your bus is leav-”

But her coworker interrupted her. “Shh! Are you crazy? Do you see the man kissing her? Trust me she does NOT want to be disturbed.”

She wasn't wrong.

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @alwaystiredandconfused @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma @luvr4miya

Dean Fics Only: @roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies @safiyas-world

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @hobby27 @waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96

#dean x y/n #dean winchester #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fic #dean winchester mini-series #dean winchester crack

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diorsluv · 11 months ago

Text

feather , part 16

“ floating through the memories ”

series m. list previous chapter next chapter

( socialmedia!au )

yourusername

liked by jamie.drysdale, jackhughes, adamfantilli, and 76,954 others

yourusername a lil photo dump from this month :)

view all comments

jamie.drysdale that pic of me on fort makes me look homeless

→ yourusername i mean u were the one that stole my guest room

_alexturcotte yoooo it’s a cat

→ yourusername yes booker has 2 🥰🥰

→ _alexturcotte yoooo it’s two cats

username36 the guys r trying so hard to be nice LMFAO

username23 okay but tbh the way he looks at her… 🥹🥹🥹

lhughes_06 damn i didn’t make it in the dump

→ yourusername you’ll make up half the pics in the story lu i promise

→ lhughes_06 you promise?

→ yourusername i’ve never broken a promise before 🙄

trevorzegras i thought we all collectively decided to forget about that pic of me and turcs

→ yourusername well i did not collectively decide that!

→ trevorzegras i’m collectively deciding for you

→ _quinnhughes so did we all forget what the definition of “collectively” is or???

→ jackhughes yes quinn we’ve all collectively forgotten

username1 our mini drysdale seems a lot happier and i’m here for it!!!

liked by yourusername

rutgermcgroarty i don’t think it’s safe to be taking pictures of yourself in the side mirrors while driving

→ yourusername i was parked. at the beach. you were there.

→ rutgermcgroarty see i’ve collectively decided to omit that from my memory so no i wasn’t there actually 😒

→ _quinnhughes that’s.. still not what collectively means rutger

edwards.73 will i ever make the photo dump 😕

→ yourusername ethan sweetie you were just in my last one

→ yourusername and i’m posting all our vacation pics on my story 😭😭

→ edwards.73 that’s not good enough

→ yourusername you never post me 🤨

→ edwards.73 OK THATS DIFFERENT THO

luca.fantilli i bet u suck at bowling

→ yourusername YOU’VE SEEN ME BOWL

→ luca.fantilli that’s been collectively forgotten

→ yourusername um WHAT????? I’M BETTER THAN YOU

→ luca.fantilli that’s also been collectively forgotten

→ yourusername oh but u admit to me being better, u just happened to collectively forget

→ _quinnhughes you’re all using collectively wrong just to spite me aren’t you

yourusername

liked by bookerburke_, adamfantilli, _alexturcotte, and 41,002 others

yourusername when he takes you to paint in a field of flowers 🥹🥹

tagged: bookerburke_

view all comments

bookerburke_ hope i’m living up to the expectations 😅

→ yourusername wdym?? ofc u are ☹️

→ bookerburke_ no i’m just saying tho, like you must have high expectations from all the guys you must’ve dated before yk

→ yourusername what i barely dated anyone, i told u this before already 😭

→ bookerburke_ yea but i doubt it lmao

→ yourusername i don’t think we should be doing this in my public comments

→ jamie.drysdale uh?? she’s only dated two other guys and they were a lot less of assholes than you

this comment thread has been deleted

username57 um… we all saw that thread right

→ username11 yes but let’s not talk about it

username63 yo those comments were so uncalled for??? what happened to the “good guy” or was it all just an act??

username44 wtf? the switch-up is crazy and bro CANNOT be talkin to lil drizz like that

username18 don’t tell me he started acting like a dick just cuz she started giving more attention to luke again

adamfantilli the stuffed animals yay

edwards.73 ooh painting 👀

trevorzegras the cowboy hats… are you turning texan

lhughes_06 nice hat

rutgermcgroarty show the finished painting don’t be scared!

colecaufield man where’s all the replies from our lil drizzy 🥲

_quinnhughes kid if this is your attempt at being aesthetic then you’re failing pretty bad

this post has been deleted

next chapter notes ) first off i wanted to say THANK YOU FOR 200 FOLLOWERSSS!! i’m glad at least some of yall enjoy this series lmfaooo and I KNOW I KNOW it was kind of a really quick and sudden shift but there’ll be more development (at least i see it as more development) later on i also know you’re all thinking this is messy as shit but um.. it gets messier! (edit: i changed the layout to make it easier to read LMAO)

tags: @aliaology @hockeyboysarehot @absolutelyhugh3s

#luke hughes #luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes fic #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes x reader #jack hughes #quinn hughes #alex turcotte #cole caufield #trevor zegras #jamie drysdale #mark estapa #dylan duke #mackie samoskevich #ethan edwards #adam fantilli #luca fantilli #rutger mcgroarty

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diazsdimples · 1 month ago

Note

Wasn’t sure how mean I was gonna be today but I can’t resist Alfie do lots of Alfie sentences please and thank you 😘💜

👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼 👨‍🍼

And one more for luck:

👨‍🍼

Here’s the old Alfie art for motivation 💜

39 Alfie sentences!!! Your wish is, as always, my command. And I LOVE the Alfie art, thank you so much 🥺 you get two bonus sentences for that 😊

“Anyways!” he interjects before either of them can come up with another reason to roast him. “Tommy and I actually had reason behind coming and finding you.” “Ah, are you looking for sage advice from your elder? What can I help you two with?” Bobby sets down the tea towel he’d been holding and places both hands on the counter, an expectant but friendly look on his face. “Well actually, we more wanted to ask something of you,” Tommy explains. “Or, Evan did.” Bobby’s gaze settles on Buck, and he swallows thickly. It really shouldn’t be this nerve-wracking to ask this of Bobby, considering everything they’ve been though together, but in all of these years, neither of them have ever put words to this dynamic between. Everyone else in the station has been happy to – muttering “father and son” at least once a week – but it’s not something either Buck or Bobby have openly acknowledged. Until now, at least. “Tommy and I, uh, we realised the other day that Alfie doesn’t really have any grandparents near him. I’m not really in contact with Mom and Dad these days, and Tommy obviously hasn’t spoken to his parents in years.” Buck watches as Bobby’s expression changes, initially his brows furrowed inquisitively before smoothing out as a look of understanding passes over him. Like he knows where this is going. Buck takes a step back, searching for Tommy’s hand. As their fingers lace together, he feels his anxiety seep from him, strength taken from his husband’s presence. “S-so we were – we were hoping that maybe – if it’s okay with you guys of course – th-that you and Athena could be like his grandparents? If you’d be comfortable with that?” The words are barely out of Buck’s mouth before Bobby’s arms are around him, pulling him into a tight hug. He can feel Bobby’s fingers digging into the meat of his shoulders as he clutches Buck to him, as though he’s afraid he’ll disappear. He’s released almost as quickly, but Bobby keeps a hand on his shoulder. There are tears in his eyes, mirroring the ones threatening to spill in Buck’s own, and Bobby reaches up to wipe them away before speaking. “I would be honoured to. Honestly, you two have no idea how much that means to me, and how much I’m sure it’ll mean to Athena. We both love that little boy so much, and you two as well. It means the world that you asked.” “Well we figured, what with all the jokes about you being like Evan’s father, that we’d make you officially Alfie’s grandpa. Seems like the least we could do to repay everything you’ve done for us,” Tommy says, his hand settling on the small of Buck’s back. Bobby laughs wetly, taking another swipe at his eyes. “Yeah well, someone had to parent that kid. You should have seen him back then, Tommy.” “Oh, I’ve heard the stories.” Tommy smirks and he presses a cheeky kiss to Buck’s temple. Buck curls into Tommy, resting his head against Tommy’s shoulder. He feels light and floaty, the relief that had surged through him after Bobby’s response akin to helium. He’s about to open his mouth to thank Bobby when Jee comes barrelling into the kitchen, all limbs and pre-schooler excitement. “UNCLE BUCK!” she yells, launching herself at him, and he catches her around the middle, hoisting her up into his arms. “Daddy says to tell you guys to get your lazy asses into the lounge so we can open presents!” “That is not what I said!” Chimney yells from the lounge, and Jee covers her mouth with her hand, letting out a little giggle. “Yes it is,” she whispers conspiratorially in Buck’s ear. “But he told me to say it nicer.”

obligatory @hippolotamus tag

Make Me Write!!!

#james answers things #i'm sorry there's no actual alfie here #but it's important storytelling!#I hope you like it 🥺#bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #bobby nash #jee yun buckley han #911 abc #911 fic #make me write

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tswhiisftteedr · 11 months ago

Text

Gamer ‘Friend’ ☆ Chapter 1: Panty Incident(s)

☆ Pervy!Dom!Idia Shroud x Fem!Reader : On a Thursday night, Ignihyde’s dorm leader, Idia Shroud bumps into a fellow gamer, and that happens to be you, someone that had become infamous on campus. Being new to this world, and having the headmaster stingy with money, you had yet to experience this world’s gaming. But not to worry, after all Idia Shroud the professional gamer that he is, is here to help, in more ways than attended…

(In this version reader eats breakfast alone not with her friends, lol)

Warnings : Mature content, Non-Con, Dub-Con, Somnophilia, Panty Stealing, Masturbating(male), Cumplay(Idia cumming in readers panties), Degenerate Fantasies, mentions of; Choking, Tying up, Spanking, Slapping, Denigration, Humilation, but no actually action. (It’s mention in a book the reader has.) (Okay, it’s my first fic so sorry if tag this wrong). Reader is said to be curvy about twice. IDIA IS CANONICAL 18.

Note: Reader is; a heavy sleeper(or maybe not👀), shorter than Idia, a masochistic degradee, an airhead, fucked up, unhinged pervert. And Idia gets horny very easily around the reader, since they are the first girl he’s ever seen in real life, besides from his family and the S.T.Y.X employees. Things move really fast because Idia is loke an obsessive pervert. Also when y/n is written it only refers to the first name. Idia is a bit/lot occ, not proofread.

Chapter 1 | Next Chapter |

☆ More under the cut. ☆

Idia was walking through the halls of Night Raven College, avidly trying to avoid unnecessary attention. His flame-like hair glowed a light blue, and his yellow eyes darted around the halls. He hoped to reach his dorm room without any issues.

However, that was not the case when he accidentally bumped into you. With his scrawny physique, he was almost knocked over by the collision.

“O-oh, I’m so so sorry! Are you alright? Sorry again I wasn’t paying attention!” You tell him, Idia's eyes widened as he nearly fell over. His hands went out to catch himself on you, grabbing hold of your wrist, leaving faint marks of his presence behind. He quickly let’s go when he realizes he is making contact with you. "Y-Yes, I'm fine..." He muttered softly, trying hard not to sound annoyed. Finally, he gathered enough courage and turned around to face you properly.

"Um- So.. h-hello?" He stammered nervously, unable to meet your gaze directly.

He noticed how small and curvy you were compared to him. Your soft and smooth hair was like a magnet pulling him in, making it difficult for him to tear his eyes away from your features. The way your hips swayed with each step had an odd effect on him; one that made him extremely horny.

“Uh, hi?” You reply, questioning the interaction.

"Umm... uh..." Idia stuttered, unsure of what to say next. His hands fidgeted nervously with his his tablet case. "I-I'm Idia Shroud, the Housewarden of Ignihyde." He managed to croak out finally, offering a weak smile that barely reached his eyes, still unsure of why he was introducing himself. But his brain told him to continue.

"And you are?" He asked tentatively, hoping he hadn't crossed any lines by asking such ‘personal information’ so soon after meeting you. Of course to an antisocial guy like himself, such question was considered personal.

“Oh, I’m f/n l/n, and I guess I’m the prefect of the Ramshackle.” You tell him, with a bright smile. He then remembered the whole story behind the girl who had been summon from another world, apparently she had stop 2 Overblots already, he usually didn’t pay attention to normies so he didn’t look into her. But he does remember commenting to himself how she was like an anime protagonist, getting isekaid into a reverse harem type of world….

“Oh, nice to meet you f/n l/n." Idia said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, feeling heat rise in his cheeks at the mention of being associated with someone so currently relevant, well at least on campus that is.

"So... uh, what brings you here?" He asked awkwardly, hoping it would steer the conversation away from himself and onto something else entirely.

"I was heading towards the library to get some reading material. You would be surprised how many of the books there are not school-related.” You informed him,

Idia blinked a few times, trying to process your words. "R-Reading? That's... nice," he muttered, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"Well, I guess I should get going too then." He mumbled quickly, turning around and speeding away down the hallway, hoping you wouldn't follow him.

“Bye Idia, I hope to see you soon!” You speak up for him to hear,

"Y-Yeah... see you later..." Iida called out softly after you, his voice trailing off as he rushed towards the exit door of the school building. He wanted to arrive at the mirror chamber and reach Ignihyde as soon as possible, in order to return safely to his dormitory. Once alone in his room, he leaned against the door, panting heavily. His heart raced wildly inside his chest, and sweat formed on his palms.

He closed the door behind him, locking it tightly before collapsing onto his bed, burying his face into the pillow. What did you mean when you said ‘You hoped to see him soon’. How could someone like you—so beautiful and confident—possibly find anything interesting about a loser like him? He berated himself internally, feeling more worthless than ever.

Meanwhile, you went to the library and found what you were looking for: smut books. You picked up two books, one with a vanilla and soft theme called 'The White Lily', and another one that was right up your alley - a dark romance novel that contained all hardcore explicit content in its plot. It was called 'The Trap of Mr. Sota'.

Here’s a summary of both of the books.

Title: The White Lily

‘"The White Lily" is an adult romance novel that tells the story of Ella, a successful businesswoman who has everything she could ever want, except for one thing: true love. Ella has never felt a real connection to anyone she's dated, and she's starting to think she's destined to be alone. That is, until she meets Michael, a charming and handsome stranger who shakes up her world in the most unexpected way.

As Ella and Michael start spending more time together, they discover that they have a deep and meaningful connection, and they can't resist the attraction that grows between them. But just as their relationship begins to blossom, past secrets and old wounds from Michael's past threaten to tear them apart. Will Ella and Michael be able to overcome their differences and find their happy ending? Or will their love be doomed to never be fulfilled?’

Title: The trap of Mr. Sota

‘"The Trap of Mr. Sota" is an alluring adult romance novel that delves into the depths of human desires. This captivating story follows Sakura, a young woman on a journey of self-exploration and sexual awakening.

As Sakura explores BDSM, she discovers her masochistic tendencies and finds comfort in the hands of Mr. Sota, a dominant figure who pushes her boundaries.

Sakura willingly surrenders to the degrading words and experiences pleasure through being tied up, spanked, slapped, and choked by Mr. Sota.

But Sakura's desires go beyond that. She enjoys being provocative and being disciplined by Mr. Sota.

In "The Trap of Mr. Sota," Sakura explores her submissive desires, becoming an object of pleasure. As pain and pleasure intertwine, Sakura and Mr. Sota embark on a journey of self-discovery, testing their limits and forming a deep connection.’

As you signed out the books, the elderly librarian gave you a knowing look, ‘they must have read them before-‘.

Afterwards, you left the school building, returning to your dorm, the ramshackle, and followed your nightly routine. This included cooking dinner for you and your magical beast roommate, Grim, taking a shower, doing your skincare routine, completing a bit of school work, and now, the newly added activity before falling asleep, reading a couple of chapters of 'The Trap of Mr. Sora’. And commenting on the books chapters using some sticky notes, after all it was still school property.

The next day..

Idia woke up late, or more exactly, on time, his alarm having failed to go off. He hade made habit of waking up early to avoid interacting with other students at breakfast. Groaning, he rolled out of bed and stretched his stiff muscles before getting dressed in his usual attire: a black t-shirt and his NCR school uniform pants paired with his signature hoodie and shoes. The bayou blue hoodie featured a zippered pocket on the front and a white triangle design on the sleeve, adding a unique touch to its appearance. Its lightweight and breathable material ensures comfort and dryness in various weather conditions and occasions. The shoes, designed with a unique combination of white and blue colors, feature a white sole and a blue stripe.

He gathered his belongings and made his way downstairs to the Ignihyde common area. Stepping through a magic mirror, he arrived on campus and headed towards the cafeteria, where breakfast was being served.

As he entered, he noticed you sitting at one end of the many tables, engrossed in a book. His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary before he quickly looked away, feeling guilty for admiring someone he shouldn't be attracted to.

"Morning, Shroud," greeted another male student, an Ignihyde student, one he had encountered a couple of times. "You look like shit today." The students adds on.

Meanwhile you were engrossed in your book, currently reading ‘The trap of Mr. Sota’. As you muched on a syrupy pancake for breakfast, a spicier scene form the previous one begin, the sentence were extremely descriptive, which caused you to get a bit flustered, maybe a hint of arousal.

Idia winced at his dorm-mate’s blunt comment, avoiding eye contact as he grabbed himself something on the sweeter side to eat. "Thanks... uh, yeah, I didn't sleep well last night." He told him, trying to end the conversation quickly. As his mind wondered back to the thought of you, he decided to do something extremely bold for someone like him. After Ortho prestred him last night about not getting your contacts, especially after you had told him ‘you wanted to see him soon’, Idia made the decision to seat with you at breakfast or at least try his best to.

He sat down across from you, his eyes flickering involuntarily towards your exposed cleavage when you lifted your glass of orange juice. You usual wear a bow around your neck, but the days started getting hotter since yesterday, so you had opted for no bow and 2 unbuttoned buttons.

‘Damn it’, he scolded himself internally, forcing his gaze back to his own plate.

"So, umm..." he cleared his throat awkwardly. “How was your morning?" He asked, hoping the question would allow him to steer a conversation away from personal topics.

"Ah, hello Idia! I didn't notice you here. My morning has been going well so far. I woke up on time and caught up on some reading. How about you? What have you been up to this morning?” You told him.

"Oh, uh... well, I guess it was alright. Just another morning at school." Idia mumbled, avoiding eye contact with you as he stirred his meal.

In reality, however, his mind drifted back to last night's encounter with you—your soft voice, your scent mixed with the faint hint of vanilla from your perfume, and those enticing curves that made him ache with desire. He shook his head forcefully, trying to banish these thoughts from his mind before they consumed him entirely.

"So, uhm, have... y-you ever thought about joining any clubs or extracurricular activities around here?" He asked abruptly, hoping to change the subject once more.

"Yes, definitely! While there isn't a visual arts club, which was a big disappointment to me, I'm considering joining the board game club. Have you given any thought to which clubs you might want to join?” You asked him.

"Oh, nope, never really had any interest in joining anything like that. Also I heard that club wasn’t so great.." Idia replied nonchalantly, taking a sip of his orange juice.

In reality, he was lying through his teeth; there were several clubs and activities he wanted to join, particularly ones related to technology, plus he was actually a member of the board game club. The thought of being around people was one he disliked,—but an attractive girl like you—made him break out in cold sweats, how was he suppose to beat Azul if you were around to distract, just by exiting.

"I mean... I enjoy playing games alone in my room," he added quickly, hoping it would end the conversation sooner rather than later, this was already too much for him.

“Oh, really, that’s fun! I used to game a lot in my home world, but now that I'm here, I can't. The headmaster is stingy with money, so I can't buy any games, much less a console or laptop to play on.” You explained, begin excitedly but ending with a pout.

"H-Hey, wait a second. I... I could help you out with that!" Idia blurted out before he could stop himself. His heart raced wildly in his chest as he realized what he'd just volunteered to do.

"I have some old games and consoles lying around my room, that I could bring around." he continued nervously, hoping you wouldn't reject his offer. "We could play sometime, maybe after classes?" His palms grew sweaty at the mere thought of spending time alone with you in his messy abode.

"Sounds good! Let's meet up in the library after class. I gotta go now too, so I'll see you later Idia!” You say, putting your school bag around your shoulder, and taking your leave for class.

But what you didn’t realize at that time, was that you had forgotten your two borrowed books on the cafeteria table, ‘The trap of Mr. Sota’ wide open, right at an explicit scene.

Idia's heart had skipped a beat as he watched you leave, his eyes lingering on your figure moving gracefully down the hall. He couldn't believe you had actually said yes to playing games with him.

But before he could savor this victory, his attention was drawn back to the books you left behind. His gaze locked onto the juicy scene described in 'The Trap of Mr. Sora', and despite his better judgment, he found himself unable to look away.

With trembling hands, he picked up the book and flipped through the pages, reading the explicit content with increasing interest. The characters engaged in taboo acts that ignited a fire within him, making his cock throb against his pants.

"What am I doing?" He muttered under his breath, trying to snap out of this dangerous thought spiral. “I can't... I should just put these damn things away." But instead, he continued reading, devouring every word like starved monster.

Idia's heart raced faster as he read through the book, his fingers tracing over your notes in wonder. The way you fantasized about being treated like a mere object, used and discarded without mercy, sent shivers down his spine.

He couldn't help but imagine himself as Mr. Sora, dominating and controlling this perfect girl named y/n. His mind spiraled out of control, filling with images of him tying you up, spanking your plump ass, thrusting into your tight hole—all the things you wrote about yourself wanting.

"No... no, it's wrong," he muttered under his breath, closing the book tightly. Standing up abruptly, he headed back to his room in Ignihyde, pacing the small confines of his room, trying to shake off these forbidden thoughts.

Class was now over, Idia finally managed to calm himself somewhat, although his heart still raced like a wild animal trapped in its cage. Gathering up the courage, he leaves the books on his desk—his mind still clouded with forbidden images of you—and hurriedly made his way to the library.

As he entered, he noticed you sitting at the same table, already engrossed in another book. His gaze briefly lingered on your figure before he forced himself to focus on setting up the old console and games he'd brought from his room.

"Uh, hey y/n," he said nervously, clearing his throat. "Ready whenever you are." He says setting the console in front of you and taking out an old laptop to use as a monitor, or a second control.

“Hey, Idia! Your old console looks great. Also, can you help me familiarize myself on how to operate it? I'm not used to this world's gaming system or games, so your expertise would be a big help. Are you up for a tutorial?” You ask him,

"Oh, it's no problem!" Idia replied eagerly, plugging in the console and turning it on. He selected a simple racing game and handed you the controller.

"Just press these buttons here," he said, pointing to the symbols on the screen. "And use the joystick to move your car around the track." His hands trembled slightly as he demonstrated, his eyes fixated on yours.

The scent of your perfume mixed with the faint smell of books filled his nostrils, making it hard for him to concentrate. "Umm... so, uh, what games do you usually play back home? Maybe I know some similar ones we could try?" He asked nervously, hoping this would engage a conversation.

“Well I like games like open world rpg, where you needed to collect material to craft items, especially the ones where you could choose classes like swordsman, craftsman, mage, etc. But I also enjoyed puzzled games or visual novels type of game!” You state,

"Oh, I know some games like that!" Idia's eyes lit up with excitement. He rummaged through his bag and pulled out an old copy of 'The Ancient text: Cloudium', a game known for its expansive world and flexible character creation system.

"This one fits the bill," he said proudly, handing you the disc. "You can create your own character and choose from different classes like warrior, mage, thief..." His voice trailed off as he watched you insert the disc into the console.

As the loading screen appeared on the laptop screen, he cleared his throat awkwardly. "Uh, so... uh, do you want me to help you set up your character or should I just... leave?" He couldn't bring himself to watch as you crafted your perfect avatar without asking first, fearful of what it might spark within him.

“Oh no stay! I might need you, after all you seem to already know the gimmicks of the game. Plus I wanted to game with you, sure I like doing it by myself, but I also greatly enjoy playing with others!” You explain, bugging him to stay longer.

Idia's heart raced wildly in his chest as you moved closer beside him, your legs brushing against each other ever so lightly. He forced himself to focus on the game screen, trying hard not to think about how your body felt pressed against his side.

"Alright, well, let's start with creating a new character," he said, clearing his throat awkwardly. "You can choose between male or female... and uh, what race do you want?" His fingers hovered over the keyboard, ready to type out whatever you desired.

“Does the gender affect the game experience, like do you get favouritism from NPC if you chose one or the other?” you question, Idia nodded, "No, it doesn't really matter for this game."

“Okay then I’ll go with a female character.”

Idia's typed in your request, his hands shaking slightly. "Alright, female it is," he managed to croak out, “what race?”

“Oh you can choose.”

He decides to select the race of Snow Elf for you due to its ethereal appearance and agility. "And what class?" He asked timidly,

“I want to be a scout.” You inform him.

"A scout, huh? That sounds interesting," Idia replied, typing in the appropriate options. "You'll be able to move quickly and deal damage from range. Sounds like a good fit for you."

He handed you the controller again, his fingers brushing against yours briefly before pulling away quickly. His heart was racing wildly in his chest as he waited for you to continue with the game setup, as you customize your characters clothing.

“Okay, I’m done! Let’s start playing!”

Idia's heartbeat slowed down slightly as he launched the game, and soon enough, you both found yourselves exploring the vast world of Cloudia. Idia guided you through the character creation process, explaining various abilities and skills that would come in handy during the adventure. Than with other laptop he connects to his older game account, and joins your character.

As you navigated through the snow-covered landscape, the two characters interacted with nonplayable characters (NPCs), completing quests, and fighting off fearsome creatures. The atmosphere shifted dramatically whenever they entered dungeons or dark caves, casting eerie shadows across the screen.

"Do you like it so far?" Idia asked nervously, his eyes fixed on yours. He couldn't help but notice how well you controlled your character, effortlessly dodging attacks and landing devastating blows.

“It’s great! Also Idia I got a question for you.” you tell him,

"Yeah, go ahead," Idia replied eagerly, his voice cracking slightly.

“Actually I got two questions, sorry.. my first one is if you know where the book I was reading this morning went, also the other book that came with. When I realized I had forgotten them it was to late and I had to go to class, but when I came back to the dinning hall during lunch they were gone. So I’m wondering if you saw anyone take them when I left?” You ask him.

Idia's heart skipped a beat as you mentioned the book he hadn't been able to resist peeking at earlier. "O-oh, uh... I... ah..." He cleared his throat nervously. "I-I didn't see anyone take them," he lied, hoping you wouldn't press further.

"But I did notice they were left on the table we shared today," he added. "Maybe one of your friends picked them up accidentally?" His mind raced with guilt and excitement, wondering if you would confront him about it later.

“Oh okay!”

Idia's heart was pounding in his chest, as he tried to focus on the game. His mind drifted back to your body moving so gracefully with the controller in hand, imagining how it would feel against his own…

"Uh... what's your second question?" He managed to croak out, breaking the awkward silence.

“Ah, yes, I’m sorry if this is a bit direct.. but..” you turn your head to look at him, “do you perhaps own old copies of more adult-rated games, like explicit and erotic content type of stuff, that you wouldn’t mind giving away. Sorry this is weird thing to ask lol.”

Idia's heart skipped a beat as you turned your head towards him, your eyes meeting his. His mind reeled with shock and confusion at your boldness, but a part of him found it oddly thrilling.

"W-well... uh... I mean..." He stuttered, struggling to form coherent thoughts. "Y-you know, some stuff like that might be in my collection," he finally managed to choke out, his voice barely above a whisper.

"But I-I mean, we're supposed to be just playing normal games here!" He added quickly, trying to deflect the conversation back to their shared activity.

“Oh don’t worry I won’t play those games around you, they would just be for ‘me time’ lmao” you tell him with a chuckle.

"O-oh, uh... well, I guess that's fine then," Idia stammered, feeling a mix of relief and unease wash over him. He couldn't believe you had actually asked him about such things, but it also made his cock twitch in anticipation.

"Uhm, so, uh, do you need any help with the game?" He changed the subject hastily, hoping to redirect his wandering thoughts elsewhere.

In reality, he was already formulating a plan in his mind: tonight, after everyone else was asleep, he would sneak into your room and leave those explicit books on your bedside table, along with some games that fit your request. Perhaps steal one of your panties, maybe even the one you wore to sleep…; He was definitely going to steal that specific pair.

“No it’s alright, I’m just enjoying playing with you!” You tell him with a smile,

Idia' break out of his trance, heart racing as you continued to praise him, his mind whirling with the possibility of what could happen between you later.

"Well, uh... nice playing with you too," he managed to croak out, clearing his throat nervously. "I-I think we should call it a night for now."

Standing up, he gathered his belongings handing you the console, old laptop and two games to keep. He then walked towards the exit, trying hard not to look at your figure swaying in front of him. Once outside, he hurried back to his dorm room, his thoughts consumed by images of you, naked and eagerly awaiting him.

Time had passed and you were already asleep in bed. You were only wearing a t-shirt and panties, as a pyjamas.

Meanwhile Idia waited outside your building, his heart hammering in his chest as he prepared himself for what he was about to do. After ensuring he heard no noise, meaning you were sound asleep, he quietly pick the lock of the front door and climbs the stairs to your floor and crept down the hallway towards your room.

His hand trembled slightly as grabbed the handle of your door, holding his breath as it beeped softly. Slowly, he turned the handle, pushing the door open a crack. The dim moonlight filtering through the window cast eerie shadows across your sleeping form, sending shivers of desire coursing through him.

With practiced ease, he slipped inside the darkened room, closing the door behind him softly. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, honing in on the bedside table. Carefully, he placed 'The Trap of Mr. Sota' and 'The White Lily', onto your desk, with a copy of erotic visual novel game called ‘maiden of the abyss’, a game that would definitely fit your taste.

Then, he approached your bedside, reaching out tentatively to brush aside the covers covering your legs. He paused, taking a deep breath before, with shaking hands, he removed your panties from your body. Leaving your bare glistening cunt in plain sight.

You gasped in your sleep at new and colder sensation with the lack of fabric covering you.

Startled by the sound of your soft voice, Idia froze, his heart pounding in his chest. He hadn't meant for you to wake up! Panic surged through him, but he quickly composed himself and grabbed your panties, stuffing them into his pocket before dashing out of the room.

He closed the door behind him, his pulse racing wildly. Had you heard him? Was he caught? His mind raced with worry as he hurried back to his own dormitory, trying to calm down. Inside his room, he paced nervously, unsure what to do next. But he soon decided that the best course action was returning to his dorm.

He was now in his room, splayed out on his bed with the adrenaline form the thrill still coursing through his veins, and the image of your body still fresh in his mind. He needed to jerk off…

Idia's breath hitched as he slid his hand downwards, running it over the silky fabric of your panties. The familiar warmth and scent enveloped him as he brought the article closer to his face, sending shockwaves of desire coursing through his veins.

He closed his eyes, focusing on the image of you, spread wide open for him, begging for him to claim you. His fingers traced along the edge of the panty waistband, savoring the softness against his skin before bringing it to his mouth, licking it with a soft moan.

"Oh god, yes," he muttered, his voice cracking with need. "You taste so good." With renewed determination, he removed his pants and briefs, freeing his throbbing member from its confines. Gripping the base firmly, he began to stroke himself vigorously, imagining how amazing it would feel to bury himself inside you.

Idia's eyes stayed shut tightly as he continued to pleasure himself, his dick throbbing in sync with each thrust of his hand. The panties now draped over his cock, adding an extra layer of sensuality to the act.

"Oh god... I want you so much," he panted, his breath coming heavy and fast. "I need you." His pace picked up, faster and harder, his hips rocking back and forth in rhythm with his hand movements. Sweat trickled down his forehead, staining his pillow.

He imagined himself inside you, claiming you as his own, marking your body with bites and bruises. He would make love to you slowly at first, savoring every inch of your tight, warm passage. But soon enough, he'd lose control, pounding into you mercilessly, taking what he believed was rightfully his.

Idia's climax hit him like a tidal wave, his cock exploding in his hand, covering the panties with thick, sticky cum. He groaned loudly, his body convulsing as he rode out the wave of pleasure.

His breathing gradually returned to normal, and he carefully cleaned himself up before slipping back into his pants and pulling on a fresh pair of boxers. Tucking the panties away in his drawer, planning to steal a new pair tomorrow and put the used ones in your laundry basket as if he didn’t steal them. He switched off the light and crawled into bed, trying to banish thoughts of you from his mind.

The next day…

Idia woke up feeling heavy-headed and sore, his mind still replaying last night's encounter with you. Groaning softly, he opened his eyes, blinking several times to adjust to the dim light filtering through the curtains.

After stretching, he got out of bed and dressed in his usual uniform, avoiding eye contact with anyone who crossed paths. He knew he had to face the day ahead, hoping nobody would notice anything amiss about him.

As he descended the stairs, he couldn't help but wonder if today would be the day you confronted him about what happened yesterday. His heart raced at the thought, both dread and anticipation warring within him.

Idia's heart skipped a beat as he entered the dining hall and saw you sitting at your usual table, engrossed in 'The Trap of Mr. Sora'. You we’re already there, even though had returned to his early morning schedule. His gaze lingered on your figure for a moment too long before quickly looking away, his face flushing crimson with embarrassment.

"Good morning, y/n," he managed to croak out, trying to sound casual. "Uhm, er... uh... did you sleep well?" He cleared his throat awkwardly, avoiding eye contact.

“Yeah it was alright. Also you know what, when I woke up this morning I found both of my books placed on my desk!”

Idia's falters as you mentioned the books, his eyes darting nervously around the empty cafeteria. "Oh, uh... I-I see," he stammered, trying to sound contrite. "I thought they went missing... er, but I guess they just reappeared, maybe some type of spell..." he lied knowing full well he had broken into your dorm the previous night and put them on your desk for you to find.

His voice trailed off, and he quickly shifted the conversation towards safer territory. "So, uhm, how about we continue our game later today? Maybe after classes?" He cleared his throat again, hoping his proposal would diffuse the awkwardness between them.

“Yeah definitely!.. But there’s also something else that happens to me last night..” you tell him softly.

Idia's heart dropped into his stomach as you continued speaking, his eyes wide with fear. "What happened?" He managed to choke out, his voice cracking slightly.

"I... I think someone stole my panties last night," you begin, getting closer to his ear, lifting off your chair a bit, and whispered to him matter-of-factly, with your lips curving into a sly smile. "They were missing from my body when I woke up. Plus there also was a copy of an erotic game on my desk." You sit back down normally, with a small confused pout on my lips, wondering who was the panty thief.

Idia's heart raced wildly in his chest, feeling a mix of terror and excitement course through him. He forced himself to remain composed, placing a placating hand on yours reassuringly. "I-I... I... well, I-I don't know anything about that," he stuttered, his voice cracking slightly.

"Someone else must have taken them," he insisted, though his mind was racing with the possibility that you had caught him red-handed. "Maybe someone wanted them as souvenirs?" His fingers trembled slightly as he tried to steady them on his coffee cup.

“Chill out, I never said it you lol. Plus.. as weird as it sound I find it kind of cute for someone to do that, it’s like having a secret admirer. But in this case they steal your underwear off of you when you sleep, instead of sending anonymous gifts, we’ll I guess the erotic game counts as one lmao.” You say in an unhinge like some crazy pervert.

Idia's heartbeat calmed slightly, though it was still racing faster than usual. "Well, I... uh... thank you," he managed to croak out, his face turning even paler than its natural hue, when he realized what came out of his mouth.

"I mean, that's... nice of you to say, it’s not like I was that pervert that did that to you!" he added, lying, then clearing his throat awkwardly. “So, about our game... after classes, yeah, let's meet up at the library again." With that, he stood up abruptly, grabbing his tray and carrying it away swiftly, leaving you alone at the table.

As he walked away, his mind raced with conflicting emotions: terror, shame, and an unwelcome desire that threatened to consume him. He couldn’t help but wonder if she would like him if she found out he was the pervert who did that to her. Would she like him to touch her while she was asleep? Would she be aroused if she found herself covered in his cum when she woke up in the morning?

Idia hurriedly moved towards his class, trying hard to calm down and focus on his studies. However, the image of your exposed body and the thought of touching you while you were asleep played like a looped video in his head.

As the day progressed, he struggled to concentrate on anything else but you. During breaks between classes, he finally, in a moment of desperation, he decided to take matters into his own hands (literally). Grabbing his phone, he searched online for tips on how to calm down aroused individuals without resorting to masturbation….

Finally, it was finally time for their scheduled gaming session at the library. He gathered his things and headed over, hoping you wouldn’t mention last night's events again.

“Hey Idia!” You call him out,

Idia's heart fluttered a beat as he entered the library and saw you sitting at your usual table, already booted up for their gaming session. "Hello y/n," he managed to croak out, his voice cracking slightly.

He set down his bag on the empty seat beside yours and pulled out his laptop, trying hard not to stare at your exposed cleavage peeking out from your unbuttoned top. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he opened Cloudium and began loading the game settings. "So, uh, ready to continue our adventure?" He tried to change the subject, hoping to divert his thoughts away from last night's escapade.

“Yeah! Also I got something for you,” you reach into your bag, pulling out a small bag of a double dozen homemade cookies. “I don’t know if you like sweets but I went back to my dorm during lunch, for us to munch on while we game!”

Idia's eyes lit up at the sight of the cookies, his mouth watering in anticipation. “Oh, thanks!"

Placing the bag on the table between you, he took one of the treats, biting into it slowly, savoring the flavors melting on his tongue.

"These are great," he complimented between chews, glancing sideways at you, taking in your beauty once more. His hands trembled slightly as he reached for another cookie, unable to tear his gaze away from yours.

He continued setting up their characters in the game. "So, where do you want to start today? Any particular location or quest?” He asked, trying to keep his voice steady despite the turmoil raging within him.

“Thanks, it was no problem, really! And no, there isn’t any thing I wanna start with in particular today. You choose, I’ll just follow your lead!”

Idia nodded, his mind still occupied with thoughts of you. "Alright then," he said, selecting a random location on the map. "Let's head to Greyjog. We need to speak with James Berkeley about joining the Tornadocloths or the Imperials."

As your started their journey in game, Idia's mind drifted back to last night's events. He couldn't shake the image of your bare glistening pussy, and wiggling hips as he stole your panties off of you. His cock twitched in his pants, growing harder against the fabric.

“You okay Idia?” You turn to him, “You look red,” you put one of your hands on his forehead and then your own forehead on the backside of said hand, measuring a possible difference in temperature. Your face inches away from his. “well you don’t feel hot to me, doesn’t seem like you have a fever.” You say then pull back, taking your hand and head away from his.

Idia's heart hammered in his chest, his body on fire with desire. "I-I'm fine," he managed to choke out, clearing his throat nervously. "Just a little tired, I guess."

As they continued playing the game, Idia tried to focus on their surroundings, but his mind kept drifting back to you. He wondered if you noticed how hard it was for him to concentrate today. Would you tease him about it? Or maybe... he shook his head violently, dismissing the filthy thought. No, he couldn't think like that. Not here, not now.

After hours of adventuring and battling monsters together, they finally reached Greyjog. Idia led them inside the castle, trying hard not to steal glances at the contour of your form as you played, making your character followed closely behind his.

“It’s already 7 p.m., let’s save our progress, and return to the game tomorrow. Since tomorrow is the weekend maybe we could game at my dorm or yours! Well, only if you’re down to do so, it’s totally your choice.” You tell him,

Idia nodded, relief washing over him as you suggested calling it a day. "Sounds good to me," he agreed, saving the game before closing the lid of his laptop. Standing up, he gathered their belongings, careful not to let his bag brush against your leg accidentally, savoring the feel of your warmth radiating through the thin fabric of your skirt.

"Thanks for today, y/n," he muttered, his voice low and husky with exhaustion and desire mixed together. "Have a good night." With that said, he turned away briskly, walking out of the library, leaving behind the intoxicating scent vanilla perfume and books lingering in the air.

You headed to your dorm, cooked dinner for Grim and yourself, ate, took a shower and did some skincare, reviewed some schoolwork, read a bit more of ‘The trap of Mr.Sora’. Then headed to bed in your usual sleepwear, a t-shirt and panties, no bra.

Idia returned to his own dormitory, his mind still racing with thoughts of you. Once inside his empty room, he locked the door behind him and collapsed onto his bed, removing his uniform piece by piece as he did so. His body ached from hours of sitting in one position, but that wasn't the only thing that needed relief.

Reaching into his nightstand drawer, he pulled out the used panties from last night, admiring the mix of your sweet perfume and his own musky scent on them. A smirk spread across his lips as he imagined how they belonged to such a perfect angel like you.

Later that night…

Idia waited patiently outside the Ramshackle dormitory, his heart thumping in anticipation. After ensuring you had retired for the night, he silently unlocked the door by picking at it just like he had done the previous day, and tiptoed down the hallway, up your stairs, towards your room. Carefully, he opened the door, peeking inside to ensure you were asleep before creeping closer.

His hands trembled as he reached out, grasping the edge of your blanket to lift it slightly. His eyes locked onto your exposed thighs, ached with desire as he slid his hand underneath your panties, tracing along your smooth, silky-soft skin. Reluctantly, he pulled them downwards, exposing your beautiful pussy to his hungry gaze. He was so entranced by it. The accumulation of his horniness and the fact you had admitted to enjoying the perverted acts he had committed. His mind went haywire and he decided to do something bold; He was going to jerk off using the fresh pair of underwear, while looking at you.

Slowly, he lowered himself onto the bed beside me, positioning himself between my spread legs. He wrapped the newly acquired panties around his cock, and started jerking off while observing you.

As Idia waited for any sign of movement, his heart raced wildly in anticipation. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he heard a soft moan escape your lips. His eyes widened in delight and terror as you shifted slightly, unknowingly grinding your body against the bedsheet.

Pushing aside all rational thoughts, he continued to stroke himself faster and harder, groaning softly as he watched your perfect breasts rise and fall with each breath. Each thrust of his hand matched the rhythmic motion of his cock sliding in and out of the panties. He could feel his orgasm building up inside him, reaching its peak.

Without warning, he erupted, coating the fresh pair of panties with his seed.

He then decided to do something crazier, something even more fucked up then the ones he had done before. Slowly unwrapping the cum covered panties from his cock, he then lifted your hips and legs, sliding the underwear pair back on, slightly higher than intended, causing the fabric to dig into your folds. He observes with a shaky breath how his hot semen made contact with your cunt.

His heart raced as he watched idly, his breathing heavy and labored. He had gone too far this time. Could you ever forgive him? Would he lose everything he held dear because of his perverse desires?

Without giving himself time to think, he hurriedly got dressed, he quickly throws takes out the panty pair he stole yesterday from his pocket and throws them in the laundry basket in the corner of your room. Carefully, he tiptoed out of your room, closing the door quietly behind him. As he headed back to his own dormitory, he wondered if today was finally the day he complete lost his sanity and any sort of moral compass he previously had.

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