#private label course

[elvenbeard]

You're my World

Doesn't matter where we are as long as we're together.

New Pride Flags Makeup (AXL Edition) by @pinkyjulien 💛

[genvibezstore]

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[joshua--12]

[identitty-dickruption]

Disabled adults frequently provoke anxiety and embarrassment in others simply by their presence. Although they become skilful at dealing with this, it is often achieved at great cost to themselves by denying their needs. They may, for example, sit through lectures without hearing or seeing rather than embarrass the lecturer, or endure being carried rather than demanding an accessible venue. In situations such as these reassuring phrases, such as ‘I’m all right’ or ‘Don’t worry about me’ become almost automatic. One of the reasons we react in this way, rather than being assertive, is to avoid the disapproval, rejection and adverse labelling by others, just as we did when we were children. Our reactions are viewed as resulting from our impairments rather than from the ways we have been treated; thus being ‘up front’ about impairment and disability can lead us to be labelled ‘awkward’, ‘selfish’ or ‘warped’. Such labelling can easily undermine our courage and lead us to deny our impairments and disabilities. Disbelief remains a common response of non-disabled people when we attempt to convey the reality of our impairments. An example of denial through disbelief occurred when I was studying a statistics component as part of a course in psychology. I could see absolutely nothing of what was going on in the lectures and yet my frequent and articulate requests for help were met with the response that all students panic about statistics and that everything would work out fine in the end. As it happens it did, but only after spending many hours with a private tutor. As people are generally not too concerned about how we ‘got there’, our successes serve to reinforce the erroneous assumption that we really are ‘just like everyone else’. When I finally passed the examination, the lecturer concerned informed me, in a jocular and patronising way, that my worries had clearly been unfounded! When people deny our impairments and disabilities, they deny who we really are

"Can You See the Rainbow: The Roots of Denial", Sally French

[lovhrin]

𓇻   ॱ˖ ENHYPEN HYUNG LINE AND THEIR GIRL GROUP GF

──ॱ˖ ❀ enhypen hyung line and girl group girlfriend. genre fluff. warning none just fluff and multiple different ggs | enhypen x fem!reader.

lee heeseung ( 이희승 )

you’re in aespa

ever since enhypen and aespa debuted you two were shipped together

and during that time you guys had barley interacted so he tried his best to avoid you at all costs to not make things worse

emphasize on tried

you were just too pretty

he honestly felt honoured to be shipped with you

and as much as he tried he couldn’t take his eyes off of you

it had gotten to the point where one day while passing him on the stage amongst other idols you muttered this to him

“not making those rumours any better, yeah?”

he was so flustered

but instead of jumping off the stage like he wanted to…

he found you backstage and said this

“what if I want the rumours to be true? private of course.” “is this you asking me on a date.” “yes.”

and the rest is history

──ॱ˖ ❀ your photobook “every time I see you smile that’s all me” - kali uchis all mine

park jongseong ( 박종성 )

you’re in meovv

jay has been dating you for a while like wayyy before you debuted

you come from a really wealthy family

you were basically an influencer before you became an idol

jay found you on his private insta account on day and was immediately drawn in by your internet personality

he found the way you held yourself really attractive

you were classy

you were just a little internet crush to him nothing more

that was until enhypen got invited to an event were coincidentally your family was also there

his heart sped up when he spotted you by the drinks with your face in your phone

you were obviously bored

and maybe he could make your evening better

and he sure did

he doesn’t even remember how it happened

all he remembers is having all sorts of conversations with you that had him thinking about how nice it would be if he could talk to you everyday

“you’re the first person to ever ask me things like this, yeah I would love to become an idol but I’m scared people will use my families wealth against me” “who cares what they think? I heard the black label is having auditions you should go, I’ll help you practice.”

and that was the starting to his long term relationship with you

──ॱ˖ ❀ your photobook “taking our dreams, turing them to things” - lana del ray groupie love

sim jaeyun ( 심재윤 )

you’re in katseye

when he first saw your introduction for dream academy he was practically hypnotized

you were so charismatic

and beautiful

he hated to admit it but after your introduction he kept tabs on the show

and voted for you every mission

was he even allowed to do that???

the first time he ever met you was a moment he would never forget

while he was freaking out internally you were freaking out outwardly

“omg sofia that’s jake, should we go up to him? nah that’s weird we should wait for him to come up to us, but why would he come up to us?”

he found your rambling so adorable

see you act like that calmed down his nerves and gave him a lot of confidence

but it immediately vanished once he was actually in front of you

sofia described it as watching two people stutter compliments to each other for five minutes

“I could… uh… um show you around the city if you’d like, you know all the cool um food places.” “yes! I mean… um… uh yeah.. cool..cool that would be cool.”

──ॱ˖ ❀ your photobook “I will still fall in love my clementine.” - grent perez clementine

park sunghoon ( 박성훈 )

you’re in le sserafim

to be honest sunghoon had been dating you for as long as he can remember

you guys were figure skating partners

you guys had been dating since you were little kids

well that’s what he likes to say

you both just had a crush on each other since you were little kids

he was a couple years older so you thought you never had a chance

and while you were going through years of having a crush on him

sunghoon had thought you guys already had come to the agreement that you were in some kind of relationship

it wasn’t until you were both a little older that you both slapped on the title of bf & gf

your love was real

and it showed all the time on the ice

you both were scouted

sunghoon was more easy to win over than you, you didn’t know if you wanted to leave figure skating just yet

but you also knew that if sunghoon left figure skating and left you behind you’d probably never skate again

you could never picture yourself skating without him

sunghoon practically begged you to leave with him

he needed you to do this with him

you hated him for always knowing how to pull you into things

the next thing you knew you were watching sunghoon debut on tv and about two years later he was watching you perform your first stage

“you were skating partners with le sserafims yn right? and now you’re both idols under the same company, it’s like you’re soul tied are you still close with her?” “I don’t think I could get rid of yn even if I tired.”

──ॱ˖ ❀ your photobook “tangled in love, stuck by you from the glue ” - beabadoobee glue song

[woogilicious]

offline messages ꒰ yunho ꒱

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ pairing: streamer!yunho x gn!reader. ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ word count: 1039 words. ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ genre: angst + fluff. ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ warnings: mild angst, emotional neglect (unintentional), feelings of being left behind, fluff at the end.

You were there before the follower goals, and fancy mic setup. Back when Yunho streamed from a wobbly IKEA desk and his only viewers were you and that one random bot that kept posting shady links.

Back then, his face would light up when he saw your name in chat.

"Yo!" he'd grin, headset slightly tilted. "You're here!"

Of course you were. You always were.

You modded his streams before he even asked. Built his discord server from scratch. Stayed up past midnight helping him troubleshoot lag while playing Valorant. You even tolerated the scream fest during Lethal Company session with San, Mingi, and Wooyoung―all chaos, max volume, all the time.

And when things took off―when Twitch clipped him into the algorithm and the chat exploded with new fans, you celebrated with him. You were proud. You really were.

But you also started feeling... invisible.

It started small. A joke you made in chat went ignored. Then another. Then another.

You chalked it up, at first. That's what growing meant―more people, more chaos. But then he stopped replying to your DMs. Took hours to answer simple messages. And one day, you noticed your mod label was gone. No explanation. No "thanks for everything." Nothing at all.

You watched one of his streams that night, lurking, your name is grey in a sea of neon usernames. Someone made a crude joke. You called it out. Yunho didn't even notice, until a stranger timed you out.

That was the last stream you watched live.

You muted the server. Turned off notifications. Closed the tab. He never reaches out. Not once.

Months passed.

One night, you're scrolling through your phone, brain on autopilot, when you see his name. Yunho is live: Unpacking + chatting. You shouldn't care. You don't.

But you click.

He's streaming Unpacking, of all things. Soft music, quiet atmosphere, just him and the sound of cardboard boxes being emptied on screen. There's no Wooyoung yelling in the background, no San whining about being scared―just Yunho. Focused. A little tired. His laugh softer tonight.

You shouldn't message him.

But your fingers move anyway, finding his name in your message app.

Are you okay?

You send it. Regret it instantly. Consider deleting it, but then―

yunho: wait yunho: wait wait wait yunho: is this real?? yunho: y/n... i thought u blocked me or smth

You stare at the screen, looking at his stream while his attention turns to his phone.

you: figured you wouldn't notice either way yunho: ... yunho: okay. i deserve that. yunho: i miss you. a lot.

You don't reply right away, and you close the Twitch app.

The next day, he sends you a message privately in discord.

yunho: can we talk?

You call. It's weird, at first. The silence between you used to be comfortable, easy. Now it's cautious. Hesitant.

But he tries.

"I don't know when I started messing it up," he says, voice quiet. "I think... I just got caught up in everything. I didn't mean to shut you out."

You shrug, even though he can't see you. "You kind of did, though."

"I know. I just... didn't want you to feel like you had to carry my stuff forever. You helped me so much and I kept thinking, maybe you deserved to just... live your life. Not babysit my stream."

You snort. "You took away my mod role without saying a word. The least you can do is tell me."

He winces. "Yeah. That was stupid."

"You think?"

He laughs. It's small, and it is obvious that he is nervous.

"Let me fix it," he says. "Please."

It's not instant. It's not perfect.

But you start showing up again. Not as a mod, but just as his friend.

He messages you in the middle of the night about weird games you'd both like. Sends you dumb voices notes of Mingi farting on call. You hop into discord during late-night gaming, and he still screams in panic when he gets chased in scary games, but now, he screams your name too.

And one night, he messages:

yunho: do you want to do a stream together soon? you: what would we even play? yunho: idc. minecraft? stardew? anything. i just want to hang out with you on stream.

You agree, and the next night, it's Minecraft night.

The stream starts slow, chill lo-fi music playing in the background. Yunho decides to do a member only stream, which means the chat is smaller, cozier. The mods keep it clean. No chaos whatsoever.

"Special guest tonight, their name is Y/N" Yunho says, grinning. "My oldest friend. Like actual old. We've known each other since middle school."

You laugh. "You're few months older than me."

Chat, on the other hand, explodes with excitement:

xXxgamerraccoon12: brooo you can see yunho smiling like an idiot fluffyhorsie: their voice sounds so soothing!! i love them already!! bananapie481: we need more cozy game with y/n!!

You two fish, farm, fight monsters, collect materials. It's easy.

Halfway through the stream, you forget the camera's even on.

"You're different when it's just us," you say quietly.

Yunho hums. "Different how?"

"Less loud, less performative. More... you."

He doesn't say anything right away, just smiling while mining some woods for their house. Then, softly. "That's because you bring out the parts of me I actually like."

Your chest tightens.

"You know I was really scared," he adds. "That you'd never message me again. That I lost you for good."

You exhale. "You almost did."

"I know."

Silence.

Then, your character walks over and gifts his character a flower.

It's just pixels, but Yunho makes a sound that's a little too real.

"What?"

"What do you mean what? Maybe I just like giving you flowers."

His voice is barely a whisper. "God, I missed you so much."

The stream ends with your character standing next to his inside your finish small cozy wooden house.

Chat's spamming hearts. Fan edit already being posted. People are begging for another duo stream.

Once he turns off his stream, he says, "Don't log off yet."

You stay.

His voice is warm through your headset.

"Let's play another day?"

You smile. "Sure, Yunho. I'll be here."

This time, you know he believes it.

And this time, you do too.

[mv1simp]

Based on darling 🍑 🛒 anon’s request: max x inexperienced best friend!reader who hears him complaining about how hard it is to find a girl who’ll match his freak in bed 😼

Birthday Sex ♥️

Max Verstappen x Best Friend!Reader

don’t need candles or cake, just need your body to make (birthday sex, it’s the best day of the year, girl)

As Max’s best friend since childhood, you know him better than anyone. You’re determined to find the best birthday gift after he’s outdone you the past three years. Just when you’ve given up all hope of beating him you overhear him complaining that none of his recent girlfriends let him hit it just the way he likes. Bingo - you’ve just thought of the perfect gift!

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, dom!max, inexperienced best friend!reader who gets railed lol, size kink, anal, creampie, sloppy drunk sex!!, WC 3.3k

You slump your head down on the table and groan, making your best friend Selena quirk as brow at you as she sips her strawberry iced matcha. Across the room, the elderly librarian scowls and points to the sign clearly labelled “University Library - Quiet Zone for Finals Study”. You roll your eyes and drag Selena away to some dusty bookshelf’s well away from the old crone. You still haven’t found a present for Max? Your friend muses as she noisily slurps her drink, eyeing the dubious titles on the ancient books. Shaking your head, you whine about how you’ve spent weeks thinking of what to gift the F1 driver. You and Max have been best friends since childhood, having grown up literally 2 doors down from one another. After getting over the initial boy/girl germs phase, you’d both connected over a like for video games which had turned into a loyal and supportive friendship into teens and adulthood. And of course, you both strongly believed in work hard, play hard, and frequently would be seen doing multiple shots together out in the Monaco clubs after a race weekend or post exam season.

Despite all the time you’d spend together, things had never crossed the line past friendship. It was always heavily speculated in the media, of course, as well as constant teasing from the other paddock members and your friends and family, but both you and Max dismissed it. He treated you like one of his guy friends, inviting you over to game or come onto his private jet with his other mates to fly out for a race weekend. And of course, being good friends with a millionaire driver meant being spoilt, especially on your birthday. Max always picked up on your hints and outdid himself every year. Last birthday you’d had not one but two custom made jewellery sets delivered from Cartier when you’d mentioned them in passing, and the year before that unlimited VIP box seats to your favourite soccer team and access to his private jet to get you there.

So that’s why you’re desperate to find Max the perfect present for his birthday this year. You want to spoil him just like he spoils you! But he’s been busy with his new girlfriend, a Spanish model he met in St Tropez, and you in the final semester of your English Lit degree and you haven’t had a chance to hear what’s he’s been interested in lately.

You’ve thought up countless ideas, but what do you get a man who literally can afford anything he wants? You’ve cycled through all of his likes, finding that he already owns everything you could possibly buy. Your friend Serena is useless as she watches you plead up at the ceiling (dramatic, sure, but desperate times call for desperate measures) asking for any Gods watching above to send you a sign of the right gift. You could always just get him a vibrator, she joked as she slurped her iced coffee. You know, like the one I got you? Have you been using it? Seriously, we need to end this dry spell and get you dicked down- At that point the old crone of a librarian had let out a scandalised gasp as she overheard and kicked the pair of you out.

You’ve almost given up completely and drop by his apartment a few days before his birthday, ready to just directly beg him to tell you what he wants and put you out of your misery. You let yourself in, already familiar with his spare key hiding location for years. And then you stumble across a conversation that’s not meant for your ears as Max’s deep voice carries around the corner. He’s on video chat with one of his mates playing an e-sim racing game, but they’re definitely not talking about racing strategy.

I don’t know mate, why is it so hard these days to find a chick who’ll let you hit it raw? one of his friends complain over the speakers. Your eyes widen, hand rushing up to stifle your gasp as you realise they’re talking about what they like in the bedroom. You and Max had never talked about something like this, and you’re about to turn and leave - when your best friend says something you’d never expected him to say. He snorts, murmuring that sure, getting to finish inside was good but the real challenge was convincing a girl to let you fuck her up the ass.

His friend laughs on the screen, wholeheartedly agreeing, saying Ah, I see even a F1 driver can’t find a girlfriend who’s into that freaky shit, huh? You miss Max’s reply because his cats, Sassy and Jimmy, have started to walk over to you curiously. You hightail it out of his apartment, desperate not to get caught eavesdropping with your blushing face and jumbled thoughts. You only let yourself calm down once you’re in the safety of your much smaller apartment, sinking into your sofa and recounting what you’d heard. You and Max had never ever talked about sex, even though he treated you like his guy friends, that was a line you’d just never crossed. You’d never have guessed he was into something so naughty like not using protection or…what had he said? Up the ass?

You’re not 100% sure on what he means, with your rather…limited sexual experiences. While Max regularly slept with multiple different flings and models, your hook ups could be counted on one hand. You’d lost your virginity, of course, to an awkward college boyfriend that Max had hated and eventually told you to break up with. But apart from a few sloppy handjobs or quick drunk blowjobs, you really hadn’t explored much else. You were jealous of how much more experienced Max was than you, having sometimes overheard him and his latest girlfriend celebrating a race win from a neighbouring hotel room. But it looked like despite all of the girls he’d been with, he wasn’t getting the satisfaction he wanted in bed. And apparently what satisfied the Dutch Lion was fucking girls who let him take the condom off or use their ass to his liking.

Determined to find out more about what exactly Max wanted, you open the private browser of your laptop and type in a porn site you’d looked at a couple times before. You navigate to the tags, scrolling until you see the category you wanted to research. As you wait for the top trending video in the #Anal section to load you bite your lip, suddenly nervous. Why did Max say he wanted that? It sounded dirty and painful and just wrong. Was there something you were missing?

Then the video started playing and within seconds you’d lost any inhibitions you had. Hypnotised, you watch the screen where a small, tan skinned girl is face down and ass up, with a much larger man running his tongue obscenely through her asscheeks. She’s moaning wantonly, clearly enjoying it, and then his sizeable dick is bouncing out against her bum, messily pounding her pussy first, and then - and then-

Your doe eyes widen, fixed on the laptop with a gasp as his tip slides past her pussy and into her other hole, the one you hadn’t even known could fit a guy’s dick inside it! You’re enraptured, not wanting to blink as you watch her asshole get completely ruined. Your lace thong is rapidly soaked by your wetness as you start panting, finding yourself turned on in a way you’d never ever been before. This is what your Maxie liked? It was so hot, you think sluttily, shamelessly slipping your tiny manicured fingers into your panties to finger yourself at the forbidden thought of you and Max acting out the activities in the video. You cum far too quickly, head tossed back in pleasure. Afterwards, you know you should feel embarrassed and guilty, but instead all you can think about is how badly you want to try having sex with your other tight hole.

And you know exactly what to gift your best friend. Max deserves to get exactly what he wants, after all.

Soon you’re watching dirty video after video every night, telling yourself you need to practise the positions and expressions yourself. But really you’re just addicted to the moaning of girls getting their asses abused by huge cocks, or having the coy smirks wiped off their faces and instead rolling their eyes back as their pussies are pumped full of cum. The bullet vibrator Serena had gifted you as a joke now finds itself making its way in between your dripping thighs, as you cum nightly to the fantasy of being able to provide Max with that pleasure. If his latest girlfriend of the month wasn’t willing to put out for him, you certainly had no problem helping your best friend out instead.

You make sure you’re ready by the time his birthday party rolls around, being celebrated in style aboard his yacht that’s docked in Ibiza tonight. You’ve chosen your outfit carefully, a tight red minidress that shows off your plump ass and tits, complete with strappy high heels. It highlights your ample curves, very different from his usual fling’s stick thin figures. And speaking off - you knew that he must have broken it off with his latest girlfriend judging by the fact that she wasn’t here tonight. Your suspicions are confirmed when a mutual friend tells you he dumped her just two days ago, citing a difference in personalities. More like a difference in kinky preferences, you thought deviously. You just needed to confirm that Max was willing to cross the line of no return in your friendship. Judging from the way his gaze had turned dark and hungry when he’d seen you step onto his boat, roaming over your figure, you were pretty confident that you’d be able to proceed in unveiling your gift.

As the party continues well into the night, you join everyone in dancing and drinking, using the tequila shots as an excuse to why you’re suddenly grinding your fat ass back into Max’s crotch amidst the crowded makeshift dancefloor. When you hear Max laugh in delight, strong hands possessively curling around your hips to keep you against him, you know he wanted you, too.

So when the last of the partygoers are heading off the yacht to join the others in the Ibiza clubs, you take Max’s hand in yours to tug him away, back onto the other side of the yacht where you’re well away from anyone’s eyes and facing the night ocean. He willingly goes, checking out your curvy ass from behind, his own face flushed from the drinks he’d had. You’re tipsily giggling that he had to open your present! as you gently push him onto the outdoor couch, plucking your cutely wrapped small gift box and offering it to him. As he opens it, you eagerly sit down by his side, pressing in close to his warm, toned chest with the excuse of its cold, Maxie.

You don’t miss how his gaze drops to your plush tits, which bounce with every movement and show off your hardened nipples as you’d chosen to only wear a skimpy lace bralette underneath. He easily plays along with your excuse, wrapping his thick arm around you to pull you onto his lap and settle against his broad figure. You giggle again when he finally opens the gift box, only to find it…empty? He looks up at you, laughing as he assumed you’d forgotten to pack your present in your drunk antics tonight.

But the plan in your mind is razor sharp as you breathily press kisses to his stubbled cheeks, making his lustful gaze flicker to your lips as the tension between you two grows. You whisper that you hadn’t forgotten, in fact, you’d gotten him the perfect gift, exactly what he’d been complaining to his gaming friends about not being able to find. The present was just inside you, was all!

Max is still adorably confused, not entirely sure what you were referring to as you slide off his lap after pressing a barely there kiss to his lips. He watches you curiously as you press your blushing cheeks into the sofa and stick your thick ass up in the air. Your already tiny minidress slides down your hips, exposing your soaked, lacey thong that barely covered the true surprise - a cute heart shaped butt plug. Max’s jaw drops and for a minute he thinks he must be dreaming, or had gotten super drunk, or this was some sick joke his friends had set him up for. Until you seductively jiggle your hips at him, fat ass bouncing, your sweet voice almost innocently asking if he likes his gift?

Oh, I fucking love it, sweetheart he assures you with a wicked grin, once he realises just what you were giving him. It’s so much better than anything I could have asked for. Your pleased giggle quickly turns into pleased moans as he plays with the toy, teasing you by slowly pulling it out a bit before sliding it back in. He pulls his raging erection out of his pants, telling you to come here and suck me off, getting his cock ready to fuck you. You obediently lick up and down his length, covering it with your messy drool and lip gloss, making sure it’s as wet as possible. His muscular neck is thrown back against the sofa as he moans above you, a strong hand tangled through your curls as he tries to control the pace but can't resist your talented mouth teasing his over sensitive tip. He almost cums from your enthusiasm, hips stuttering and he swears in dutch as he has to forcefully pull on your dark locks to move your plush lips off him. You cheekily grin up at him, winking, asking was that too much for him?

He tosses you around in half a second, making you giggle into the soft pillow as he raises your ass into the air, growling that he’d have done this a long time ago if he knew what a needy slut you secretly were. You shake your hips enticingly at him, ass bouncing, enjoying how his sexy voice got even deeper and accented when he was dirty talking. Swearing at your tempting display, he delivers a strong smack to your cheeks, and then a second one for good measure, before nudging his cockhead up against your dripping slit. He hushes your whines, telling you that he needed to get a taste of your pussy, the one he’d been dreaming about when you’d stay the night after a late movie and rub your ass into his erection in your sleep, edging him for hours. Did you even know how many times he had to go jerk off to the mental image of your ass in the shower?

You moan in pleasure as he fucks you sloppily, whispering about the time he hadn’t been able to resist and pulled your panties down in your sleep, wanting to jerk off to the real thing and leaving his cum all over your caramel skin. Th-that’s soo hot, Maxie you whine, already feeling fucked out of your mind. Go-go on, cum instead me, you say breathlessly. I started the pill just for your present tonight!

Groaning at your naughty confession, he pumps one last, deep thrust before he's tensing above you, a bruising grip on your hips as he holds you still to drain his load deep inside you. He's panting deeply as his head comes to rest on the back of your neck, the two of you enjoying your blissful comedown together for a few minutes. You can’t believe how heated things have gotten tonight after being friends for years. We could have been hooking up this whole time, it was so good Maxiee you whine against his lips as he presses his tongue into your pouting mouth.

Chuckling at your eagerness, he filthily whispers that you could start by giving him the next part of his birthday gift, hmm? You nod breathlessly, unable to say no to your precious Maxie. He palms your juicy asscheeks with his large palms, squeezing at your flesh greedily. Soon enough he’s fingering your tight, winking hole from above you, telling you to hold your asscheeks apart for him as he messily spits right over where he plans to fuck you. Just the tip, right, Maxie? You repeat again, feeling unsettled with not knowing what he was doing behind you, when he stopped to stare at your cute little hole for a few minutes. Your blushing face is still buried into the cushions as your nails dig into your bouncing ass and hold it apart for him. I've never had anything...inside there before, you say, cheeks warming. So you can't stretch it out, okay, I read that it-

Yeah, yeah baby Max says distractedly, hypnotised by your inviting tight hole that is filling him with a growing desire to ruin it every passing second. Whatever you say. Dousing himself in lube from the supply he keeps stashed in between the couch cushions, he approaches you from behind, his erect cock standing stiff as you jiggle your hips. His tip nudges against your back entrance, making you moan excitedly at foreign but tingly feeling. Then he’s thrusting his leaking cockhead in and out of your hole, and you’re babbling incoherently, your face turned to the side as you gasp mouthfuls of air. Oh, it feels sooo good, mmhhh, yes Maxie-

He growls approvingly at your desperate whining, smacking your red asscheeks again and again to make them bounce. Feels amazing, right baby? he hums into your ear, pressing his abs down against your back. The new position makes his cock accidentally slide in just a little more and you arch your back more when the tingly feeling gets stronger as he slips a large hand around to toy with your sensitive clit. You’ll let me put in just a little bit more, right baby? Max whispers huskily, his hungry eyes taking in your drooling, fucked out face. You were in so much bliss he doubts you’d be able to say no to anything he asked for. O-ok, a little bit more- Ohh! Oh fuck!

You cry out as he doesn’t hesitate to slip inside you even further. It’s a good thing you can’t see the filthy mess behind you because Max has bullied an easy third of his rigid, veiny shaft inside your gummy walls. He groans against the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine as he praises how good you take his fat cock, better than any of his girlfriends. He knows just what to say to have you seeing stars as he continues to shove more and more of himself into your tight hole. Fuck schat, giving me the best birthday treat ever, I’m gonna be addicted.

You’re on Cloud 9-, pink tongue poking out of your mouth and drooling all over the cushion, pretty doe eyes rolled all the way back as Max pounds into your all too willing body. You can barely reply coherently when he croons that he’s just gonna slide a bit more in, that’s right, just like that, you can take it for him, right?

His whole cock is buried inside your ass now, beads of sweat running own his toned abs. And soon you’re screaming his name as he greedily fucks you, grunting with pleasure at each thrust. You can only cross your fingers and hope none of your friends come back from the club early.

—————————————————————————

A/N: back to my old FILTHY ways after writing a 9.5K mafia fic just to give u all whiplash will finally be posting part 2 of earned it v soon with dedicated hot husband max hehehe 😝

[dollyswishingwell]

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Anniversary gift

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ Suggestiveeeee, lots of fluff and simp men, 🧶 anon i used all your ideas :p let’s hope i did it justice, let’s not question who took the photos for reader lol

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ You give them a book of very spicy photos for your anniversary

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

He’s seated cross-legged in the sun-drenched studio of your estate, purple hair tousled, shirt entirely unbuttoned. Blue-pink eyes are completely locked on the glossy little album you gave him.

He was quiet for a while.

Too quiet.

Then he flipped the page and let out a sound that could only be described as an emotionally-compromised whimper.

“Pearlie… what are you trying to do to me…”

Another page flip.

“You’re actually unreal, baby. This isn’t fair. I’m gonna have to fight a god for this level of beauty. I’ll duel the moon. I’ll—”

He presses the album flat on his chest and throws himself backward on the floor, groaning, curling around it like it’s sacred.

The first photo, you, in a cherry-red bikini, towel wrapped low on your hips, the string of your top cheekily untied and draped over one shoulder, hair tousled from ocean spray. There’s glittering salt on your collarbone. The light hits your skin so perfectly it looks airbrushed.

“This is art. You are art.”

“You knew what you were doing… you minx.”

The second photo, you in your bridal veil, no clothes but a sheer white cloth draped carefully around your chest and thighs, pearls in your hair, eyes all soft and sleepy. There’s a vintage hand mirror in your hand. It was his.

He gets emotional.

“My wife. My muse. My everything. You expect me to function after seeing this?”

The third photo, the tasteful nude. Just your bare back, wrapped in white fabric from the waist down, lounging against the satin sheets he brought back from the North Territory. Your hair’s loose. There’s a fresh bouquet behind you.

“You have one hour to explain why I can’t paint this right now.”

“Actually, No, I’m starting now. I need my brushes. Baby, I’ll cry if you don’t let me immortalize this.”

Rafayel becomes insatiable. He needs a new photo every week. No, every four days.

He makes a whole cabinet drawer in his art room just for them, lovingly labeled “The Pearlie Archive.”

He carries his favourite polaroid in his coat pocket.

If he has to go to a meeting, and someone annoys him too much? He’ll look it mid-conversation just to soothe himself.

Eventually, he even makes a rotating sculpture series based on the photos, each titled something stupid like “Wife in Moonlight No.3 (She Looked At Me After This One and I Died).”

And of course, every time you hand him a new photo with that bashful little smile?

He groans, presses his face into your neck, and says—

“You’re evil. A beautiful, perfect little devil, pearlie.”

“I’m gonna spend the next 17 hours painting your elbow.”

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

The two of you return to your estate after a private anniversary dinner at Linkon’s most exclusive restaurant. He’s been looking at you all evening like you’re the only woman on earth, because to Zayne, you are.

You’re dressed in something elegant and white, your hair done exactly how he loves it, diamond earrings glinting when you lean in to murmur sweet things during dessert. He kissed your hand at the table. He fed you the last bite of your souffle. He looked genuinely weak when you smiled.

Now, back home, you lead him by the hand into the cozy sitting room, your heels already kicked off, makeup still perfect, and you sit him down on the plush velvet armchair. You pull out a small, gift-wrapped item from behind the bar cart. It’s square, not too thick, tied in a delicate ribbon.

He eyes it suspiciously, lips quirking slightly.

“Another gift, sweetheart?” he murmurs, hazel-green eyes sparkling. “Wasn’t dinner and your company more than enough?”

You smile innocently, cheeks warm.

“This one’s just for you. A private gift. Promise you won’t open it until I say so?”

He raises a brow. He’s intrigued.

“You’re starting to worry me, snowflake.”

Still, he obliges, sitting obediently with the album in his lap while you go behind him, slipping your arms over his shoulders.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Now.”

He unties the ribbon. Opens the first page.

And stops breathing.

⸻

First photo, you in the kitchen, wearing nothing but a frilly pastel apron over one of his old dress shirts… buttoned only halfway. The hem flutters just below your thighs, leaving your legs completely bare. Your hands are flour-dusted, cheeks pink, and there’s whipped cream on your nose.

You’re bending slightly over the counter, sliding a tray of heart-shaped cookies into the oven with the most mischievous smile.

“Sweetheart… what… what is this…”

He flips the page.

Second photo, you licking icing off your finger, eyes wide and innocent, the bow of the apron tied low on your back, the skirt very short. Zayne’s name is scrawled in icing of the cake on the countertop beside you, surrounded by pink sugar hearts.

Third photo, you, from behind, balancing on your tiptoes to reach for a spice jar. The dress has ridden up. There’s no mistaking what’s not underneath. The caption under it reads in your handwriting:

“oops. no panties today, chef~”

He’s silent.

Dead silent.

His jaw’s locked. His throat bobs as he swallows hard, ears turning red.

You lean close to whisper innocently, “Do you like it?”

And Zayne, your brilliant, stoic, always composed husband, finally breathes out—

“I’m going to have a stroke.”

⸻

The album now lives in his locked desk drawer, where no one else will ever find it. Not even if the house were on fire.

But more importantly, you find yourself pinned between the kitchen counter and your blushing husband not even twenty minutes later, his tie long gone, your apron hanging off your shoulders,

“Was this all a plan, darling?”

“Did you intend to drive me mad tonight?”

He kisses you breathless, his hand cupping your cheek, the other sliding beneath the fabric with reverent slowness.

“Next year,” he murmurs, voice low and hot, “I want one in a nurse uniform. And the year after that? Surprise me.”

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

The evening had been perfect in that quiet, Xavier-esque way.

A soft dinner at home, lights dim, stars glittering through the penthouse windows. The table set with care, he’d even lit candles, though he tried to pretend he hadn’t planned that far ahead.

You’d cooked, and he sat beside you the whole time, sipping wine, brushing his fingers against yours between each course, looking like he wanted to say something but didn’t have the words.

He never needed them anyway.

Not with how he looked at you.

“You’re… beautiful, starlight,” he murmured as you curled into his lap on the sofa after dinner, blanket half-draped over your legs. “You always are. But tonight… I’m starting to believe you really were made to haunt me.”

You giggled, pressed a kiss to his jaw, and handed him a small, ribboned album from behind the couch cushion.

“Happy anniversary, Xavier. I wanted to give you something personal.”

He blinked, confused.

Took it delicately, like it was a sacred relic.

“A… book?”

“…Wait.”

He unties the ribbon. Opens to the first page.

And that’s when the nosebleed hits.

⸻

First photo, you in a sheer, pale lilac negligee that hugs your body like mist. Your thighs peek through delicate lace. The neckline drips low enough to give a suggestion of cleavage, hidden by a loosely tied robe. You’re sitting in his reading chair. One hand rests lightly on your collarbone. Your expression is soft. Sleepy. Dangerous.

Blood hits the page.

“X-Xavier?!”

“You’re bleeding!”

He slaps a hand over his nose, face completely red, eyes wide as dinner plates.

“Starlight what did you do.”

“You can’t—you can’t just give me this!”

⸻

Second photo, the robe is slipping off your shoulder now, revealing more of your bare skin, your stocking-clad thighs folded neatly beneath you as you recline on your side like a classic painting. The caption is handwritten:

“I imagined you’d like this one. I was thinking of you when I posed.”

Xavier collapses backward. Still holding the album upright like it’s the last thing tethering him to earth. He’s trying not to breathe too hard. His nose is still bleeding, too frozen to take the tissues you’re offering him.

“I’ve made contact with divinity,” he murmurs dramatically. “It’s her. She’s real. She’s my wife.”

⸻

Third photo, you, standing in front of the penthouse bedroom mirror. The robe is untied. Your back is to the camera, head turned over your shoulder. The light catches on your shoulder blades, your soft hips, the top of your thigh-highs.

Underneath it is another note:

“You can come find me now, if you want. The robe’s still on the floor.”

He gets up. So fast you hear the whoosh of air.

Absolutely frantic.

“Where is it. Where is the robe.”

You laugh, backing toward the bedroom.

He follows like a man possessed.

⸻

Later, after he’s finally calmed down and your poor bedsheets are a casualty of the nosebleed and the aftermath, he insists on making a velvet-lined case for the album.

He keeps it in a drawer near the bed.

Takes it out every few days just to sigh over it.

“You didn’t have to go so far,” he murmurs, tracing the page edges. “You could’ve given me a photo of you in sweatpants and I’d still cry.”

Then his voice drops to a whisper.

“But I am going to need another shoot… same robe… maybe no robe… just a suggestion.”

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

You’d just come home from a week-long seaside villa getaway where Sylus spared no expense, private chef, marble infinity pool, silk robes delivered every morning, a whole fleet of bodyguards paid to “look the other way” when his hands wandered too far under dinner tables.

He was glowing with pride the entire trip.

“I’m a dangerous man, kitty,” he’d murmur as you swam up to him in the ocean, sunglasses perched on his silver hair. “But I’d give it all up to keep you soft like this. Tucked away. Spoiled rotten. Never needing to lift a finger except to choose which bikini to wear.”

He returned home relaxed, sun-warm, glowing from power and pleasure.

That is, until you handed him the velvet envelope.

“A little souvenir,” you said coyly, settling into the penthouse lounge with a yawn. “From me to you.”

He opened the album.

He paused.

Then he tilted his head.

Slowly. Like a predator smelling blood.

“…Kitten.”

⸻

First photo, you reclined across red silk sheets, wearing a see-through black chiffon robe that slips completely off your shoulders, revealing glitter-dusted thighs, sultry makeup, and the barrel of one of his gold-plated pistols perched lazily on your hip. A diamond necklace is looped between your teeth like candy.

Your eyes are half-lidded. The wedding band sparkles under the camera flash.

“Is that my pistol?” he murmurs, voice strangled.

“Did you take that from the vault?”

Second photo, you’re in the passenger seat of one of his vintage sports cars, door open, one leg outside, the other tucked provocatively on the leather seat. Your silk stockings are barely rolled up. The seatbelt’s undone. The caption below reads:

“ready for a ride, baby?”

He flips the page and laughs.

A dangerous, breathless kind of laugh.

The kind that says you’re not getting out of bed for three days.

“This is evil.”

Third photo, you, laying sideways across the hood of the car, fully naked except for stilettos and a diamond anklet, one of his revolvers laid carefully across your bare stomach.

⸻

He flips back. Again.

And again.

Then he gets up. Walks directly to the foyer. Takes his wallet from the marble console.

Silently, carefully, slides his favorite photo, the red silk sheet one, into the inside flap.

“You are truly born to torture me.”

⸻

You spot him flipping through the album again later, standing shirtless by the balcony with a cigar in his mouth, laughing under his breath.

“I knew you were perfect, kitten,” he drawls. “But this, this is perversely delightful.”

He tosses the cigar into the ashtray. Stalks over to you, scoops you into his arms like you weigh nothing.

“Give me another shoot. In my office next time. I want a shot of you splayed across the desk.”

He grins.

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

You had a second honeymoon at the tropical resort, It was perfect.

Private beach. Ocean-view suite. Room service for every meal because you “didn’t feel like leaving bed” and Caleb had no problem with that. He spent most of the week either kissing saltwater off your shoulders or carrying you around like his pretty little prize.

“You really gonna let me have you all to myself like this again, pips?”

“No comms. No Fleet. Just my pretty wife lookin’ like paradise.”

Now, back home, sun-kissed and still a little sand-dusted, you hand him a neatly wrapped album as you’re snuggled on the couch, legs over his lap, wearing his oversized academy flight jacket.

He’s already smiling like a golden retriever with a brand new bone.

But the moment he opens the album?

Full body combustion. (He didn’t blow up again, don’t worry)

⸻

First photo, you, provocatively leaning over his fighter jet, hips arched, wearing a custom, skimpy version of his old pilot jumpsuit. The front is unzipped nearly all the way down, teasing a scandalous glimpse of your favorite lacy bra underneath, his favorite color. His name tag is pinned to your chest.

You’re wearing his flight jacket over your shoulders.

Hair tousled. Lipstick smudged.

The note underneath says:

“Reporting for duty, Colonel.”

“BABY.”

He literally shouts. Slaps the photo against his chest. “How will i ever step foot into that jet again without thinking of you?!”

Second photo, you inside the cockpit, half-in, half-out, glancing over your shoulder, lips parted, legs bent, the jumpsuit riding way too high. Helmet beside you, glove between your teeth.

He clutches his chest. Falls back onto the couch. Groaning.

“That’s my cockpit,” he moans dramatically. “You’ve defiled military equipment, and I have never been prouder in my life.”

Third photo, domestic theme. You in a retro gingham dress, pearls and red lipstick, holding a woven basket full of apples. You’re on a ladder, picking fruit, skirt accidentally hitched way too high, revealing sweet white thigh-highs and the hem of lace panties. The sun flares behind you like a lens filter from heaven.

Underneath, in your own handwriting:

“Almost fell off the ladder. Hope it was worth it”

“Oh my GOD,” he whines, flipping back and forth between pages. “Every photo is my favorite. I need one a week. No, twice a week. Actually, start filming them too.”

He grabs your face, squishes your cheeks, eyes sparkling like he just won the universe.

“Next time you wear that jumpsuit, you’re not taking it off. I wanna peel it off myself.”

You tease, “So you liked it?”

He growls.

“Pips, If you weren’t already my wife, I’d marry you all over again for this. I’d drop to my knees right now. I’d burn the Fleet down to make sure i never have to leave your side.”

He tucks the album into his duffel bag. That bag goes everywhere.

He literally calls it his emotional support photo album.

If he’s gone on deployment, he’s flipping through it in the captain’s quarters, smiling like a lunatic.

“God, my wife’s such a bombshell.”

And yes, he starts commissioning a video next.

Wants voiceover. Wants to hear your giggles in the background. Wants you whispering “I miss you, Colonel” while lying on his jet wearing nothing but the flight jacket.

[leislibrary]

[skz] how they accidentally reveal your relationship

pairing: hyung line x reader maknae line here! genre: fluff, angst (if you squint) wc: 2.2k, between 400 - 700 each

Chan - on a live stream

Chan's eyelids droop as he reads more comments on his live stream. He could not count the amount of hours that passed since he last slept. Yesterday? Two days ago? He lost track. Still, he sits in front of the blinking red light, recording live content for STAY before he finally goes to sleep. 

“Someone said ‘nice bracelet’,” he reads aloud from his phone screen - having to pause to stifle a yawn. The comment makes him grin, remembering how you recently gifted it to him when he was trying to spoil you. “Thank you, you know, Y/N got it for me on our last trip.” 

His blood freezes the second the words leave his lips. He fucked up. 

Your relationship is not public. Well, rather, it was not public. You both wish to keep that part of your lives private, seeing as so much is already exposed to his fanbase. 

Any triage he can do falls short on his lips as he reads comments pouring in, asking who Y/N is, demanding an explanation, and already speculating that Chan has a partner. Chan’s heartbeat quickens and his mind races. He tries to think of something that would make him still appear cool, and like he wasn’t currently freaking out over saying your name so intimately for everyone to hear. If he spoke, anything he said would just be over-analyzed and posted everywhere. So, he did quite possibly the worst thing he could do. 

He ends the live without saying another word. 

His shaking hands open his phone app to call you, but you beat him to it. Your name appears on his screen. You must have been watching. You must have also seen the comments afterwards. He takes a deep breath and presses Accept. 

You’re silent on the other end. “Do you think anyone heard?” He tries to lighten the mood, believing you’re upset with him for exposing your relationship so carelessly. 

Instead, you surprise him. “Are you okay?” Your voice is full of concern. “You looked like you aged about 20 years in four seconds. I don’t think I’ve ever seen your eyes that wide before.” 

“You’re not mad? I mean everyone knows now, it’s just a matter of time before they find out it’s you, I pretty much just ruined whatever privacy we ha-”

“Hey,” you cut him off, “none of that. No talking badly about yourself. Yes, I’m sure we’ll have to address it soon, but there’s nothing we can do to change what’s already happened. Whatever happens from now on, we will still have each other. Honestly, I’m kind of glad the secret’s out. We can go on real dates now, instead of practically wearing costumes just to grab coffee.” 

Chan knows he is incredibly lucky to have you. One of many reasons he loves you is for your ability to talk him down when he overthinks. He eventually falls asleep on the phone with you, listening to you reassure him that you guys will figure out whatever tomorrow brings. 

Minho - on stage

Management expressed concerns about Stray Kids collaborating with you on your newest single. The higher-ups claimed that with your smaller fan base, the release might not be worth the time taken away from the group working on their own comeback. Of course, they were actually concerned about fans uncovering yours and Minho’s relationship, but they could not officially say that seeing as you have not officially told them anything. It’s an open secret within JYPE, but you two still deny it any time the subject comes up. 

The single reached the highest number of pre-orders you’d ever had. Downloads of all your songs, not just the collaboration, skyrocketed on release day. It seemed like your boyfriend’s group almost did more for your career than JYPE, your own label. 

Currently, the nine of you are at your third promotion event together. This is an informal performance/Q&A session (mainly for Stray Kids, let’s be honest) held near the label’s building, but your heart still swells at seeing everyone who came out to support the song. 

You stand in front of a small sea of audience members, taking a moment to admire their reactions to the performance. Behind you, Felix kicks off the Q&A portion of the event, calling on a fan with their hand raised and passing them a microphone. “Hi, I was wondering, what was the songwriting process like?” They ask, nerves evident in their voice. 

A presence approaches. Minho strides over to your location on stage, ultimately positioning to brush his shoulder against yours. It’s the kind of casual affection nobody would ever think twice about - if this was one of his concerts, and if you were one of his members. 

“Be careful,” you whisper to him, trying not to let the audience catch on to the fact that there’s anything to catch on to. 

He smirks in return. “Always.” 

Four questions pass, and you finally get one aimed for you specifically. You are describing the creative vision for your upcoming album. At some point Minho gravitates over to you again. As you speak, growing excitement radiates off the crowd, “ - I’m so proud of this one and I cannot wait for you to hear it!” 

Your smile widens as resulting cheers ensue. You worked so hard for this moment, and to finally start to see the fruits of your labor fills you with joy. Minho’s gentle hand on your back causes you to meet his eyes. He is already staring at you as if you are the only person in the world. 

Minho did, in fact, forget that you two are on stage. His love for you overwhelms him - he is so honored that you let him share this moment with you. Without thinking, he caresses your cheek, pulls you in, and kisses you. 

Your breath hitches. 

Maybe nobody noticed. Maybe not a single person in the crowd was looking at you or Minho right at that moment. 

The hush that sweeps the audience slashes your delusions. The overwhelming noise a moment later shoots straight into your heart. Yet, you don’t regret it. Minho’s expression mirrors your emotions. Shocked yet happy. 

Han notices what just happened and tries his best to get the crowd under control. Unfortunately, his idea was to sweep past it by continuing with the Q&A. “Alright! Does anyone else have a question for us?” The crowd goes crazy for the second time in five minutes.

Changbin - SKZ-Talker

A strong knock reverberates through yours and Changbin’s hotel room. 

“Mgrhnmm,” Changbin so eloquently mumbles, still 80% asleep after his post-concert adrenaline crash. The urgent knock sounds again. You peel yourself away from him and pad over to the door, adjusting your pajama set so you don’t look as rumpled when you swing it open. 

Chan stands there, staring at his laptop screen, eyebrows furled in either annoyance or concern. Or both. 

“Is Changbin here?” he asks. 

“Chan, I respect the creative process, but it’s three in the morning. Your work will still be there in the morning. Please let him sleep,” you respond, your usual wariness to speak to Chan like that replaced by actual weariness. 

A flicker of confusion drifts through his eyes. “No, that’s not it. You haven’t seen?” He steps into the room and shuts the door behind him. Changbin’s eyes flutter open at the sound of your conversation. You waste no time falling back into the cozy bedding.

Chan takes a seat at the desk, angling the laptop so you two can see it from your positions. The latest SKZ-Talker is paused on screen, Seungmin’s face frozen as he talks to the camera lens. 

“What’s this about hyung?” Changbin asks, finally sitting up now that it’s evident Chan will be staying a while. 

“Yeah, I mean I know Seungmin’s pretty,” you chime in, choosing to ignore Changbin’s nod of agreement, “but why are you showing us this?”

“Look.” Chan points to a spot over Seungmin’s shoulder. “Is that or is that not you two kissing?” 

Oh. Oh no. 

He’s right. With the angle Seungmin’s holding the camera, viewers can see straight down the hallway Changbin was using to warm up. And there’s you, pressing a kiss to his lips as encouragement before he goes on stage. Your stomach drops. 

You barely process Chan’s continued talking. “It’s not as bad as it could be. It’s a split second, the editors must have missed it. I’ll show you,” he rewinds the video a couple seconds and presses play. You two aren’t even on screen anymore. Seungmin’s voice fills the room as he walks through the venue’s hallways. Then, there it is. He shifts his hand, and over his shoulder, the camera captures Changbin leaning into you, smiling as you kiss him. The scene disappears behind a wall as Seungmin keeps walking. 

“Most people haven’t even noticed it. But -” Chan pauses. “But there are already some comments recognizing Changbin. They don’t know who you are,” he looks at you. The “yet” remains unspoken. 

Changbin curses. “Can we delete the video? Edit that part out? Something?”

Your vision tunnels on the screen. How could you be so careless? You knew they were filming a SKZ-Talker that day. You know how easily idols have dating rumors, you should have been more careful. Changbin’s going to have a scandal once Dispatch gets their hands on this. 

Changbin’s hands on your shoulders bring you back to reality. “You okay, princess?”

Your stunned nod tells him you’re not okay. 

“Look at me. Nobody’s mad at you for kissing me,” he brushes some hair out of your face, “I’m especially not mad at you for kissing me. In fact, I think you should do it more often.” His smile mirrors your small grin at his words.

“Yeah. But -” Chan pauses for the second time that night. “Our manager does want to get ahead of this. He’s requesting to discuss it with you now.” Chan notices your shoulders slump. “He doesn’t seem upset. Just stressed.” 

“Okay. Yeah. We’ll head over there,” Changbin replies. Chan nods and quietly slips out of the room. 

Changbin pulls you into him. “I’ve got you,” he whispers, the sound slightly muffled by where his mouth meets the top of your head. “Let me do most of the talking, yeah? We’ll be okay.”

You pull away, his arms dropping to still rest on your waist. “We should probably get going.” Your legs slightly shake as you stand to walk towards the exit. Changbin grabs your hand, his strong grip anchoring you into him. 

Hyunjin - through an Instagram post

Hyunjin fills his house with artwork scattered everywhere. It adorns his walls, his tables, his life. He makes sure no pictures of the two of you are visible through any mirror selfies - your own fans would recognize you, and he’d have a hard time explaining why a photostrip of him kissing you exists. 

Hyunjin’s most recent photo dump is doing unusually well. He smiles as he recalls the memories attached to each picture. He reviewed each photo before posting, but for the first time, he notices that one of your paintings is in the background of one of his selfies. 

The painting that you had posted on your story two days ago when you finished it.

The painting that detail-oriented STAYS and fans of yours are now asking questions about. 

Does the art in the third slide look similar to Y/N’s from a couple days ago??  omg that’s Y/N’s painting!!!!! she said she loved that painting and now it’s in hyunjin’s room?? are they together?? 

Hyunjin’s thumb scrolls down the comments, nitpicking anything mentioning you. You two don’t even follow each other to dissuade any notion of familiarity. Now, it’s snowballing, more and more people catching on when they read previous comments. 

wait whos Y/N???? his gf apparently!!

Hyunjin deletes the whole post. His notifications show an uptick of comments on his previous photo. Fuck. Your Instagram is the same: a growing number of comments asking about your relationship status under pictures of a completely unrelated photoshoot. Fuck. 

He needs to tell you himself before you are bombarded on social media. He texts So we might have to come forward about us sooner than planned. Like right now. 

Your name lights up his phone screen. Fuck. He accepts the call, and immediately launches into a not-dramatic-at-all explanation of how his love for his favorite artist in the whole world exposed your relationship, and really this is your fault if you think about it, because you created the painting in the first place, and you should have known he would love it so much.  

You’re silent until he finally pauses to take a breath. Then, your quiet laughter fills his ears. “I mean, I figured something like this would happen eventually, pabo.”

“You’re not mad?”

“No, love.” 

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

Hyunjin can finally breathe again. An idea springs to his mind. “We NEED to have the best official launch photos!! Can I paint us?”

[yuvany]

HEART SHAPED EYES

꒰ 𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍 when they're caught admiring you ꒱

OT7 ENHYPEN x f ! reader CONTENT / WARNING(S) fluff WORD COUNT : 976 CHECK BOX !!

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𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

"You look like a fool, Heeseung." His friend, Riki commented with a cackle and cheeky grin. "You don't get it, you're too young." Heeseung snaps back, his eyes still trailing your figure as you walk around the library with your friends whilst looking at books, giggling amongst yourselves. "If you really love her, just go and confess." Heeseung shakes his head with a click of his tounge. "I can't." "Then don't stare at her like you two are already together." Riki rolls his eyes and snaps his fingers in his face to wake his friend from his trance that you had unintentionally set him under. "I'm not staring!" He calls out, a bit too loud, accidentally making you and your friends' heads turn to him.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

He had stayed behind after their training session to 'catch-up' on his own. The others believed him and told him goodnight before heading to their own rooms. Jay hums to himself and groove along to the songs he had been singing. Jay takes a deep breath and picks up his phone to send you a message. As he clicks the send button, he sprung up and throws his phone onto the bags for a cushioned landing before running around the studio. After calming down, he sits in front of the mirror and looks at himself before talking with himself. "y/n, you are so pretty and funny-" before he manages to finish, he hears the door creak open and Jake walks inside with a stunned face. "I heard that." "No you didn't." Jake then bursts out laughing.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

He had created a playlist just for you, though it was more like a playlist inspired or meant for you since he never had the courage to confess his feeling. The playlist was labelled with your initial and a heart, and set on private so that no one, absolutely no one, would figure out his little secret. Jake had been playing the same playlist for what seemed to be over a week by now, but he could never get tired of it. One day though, he shared his airpod with Sunghoon. "This song is nice. What is it called?" He asked, and Jake carelessly handed his phone over to Sunghoon who looked at the screen, his eyes noticing the title of the playlist. "Am I seeing this correct?" Jake starts getting sweaty and gulps. "What?" "The name of the playlist is very...how do I say this." Jake snatches his phone back, cutting him off.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡

You had tagged along for their photoshoot to help when needed. It all seemed to go smoothly, everyone knowing what to do and the day's schedule. You had gone onto your phone, trying to find something to entertain you when Sunghoon walks up to you. He clears his throat nervously. You look up and raise an eyebrow. "Hey y/n." Sunghoon stands there awkwardly with his hands on the sides of his body. "Hi Hoon. Need something?" You ask. "Could you help me with this tie, please." He says and hands you a navy and white striped tie. "Of course." You smile, and stand up from your seat. As you tie it around his neck, his eyes are glued to your face and slowly trail down to your lips. Of course Jake had to bump into his shoulder just then and give him a smirk.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢

Everyone was gathered behind the scene, you as their special guest and vip to be able to support them from behind the stage. Everyone poses at the sound of their manager counting down and then the camera snaps. The two youngest run over and inspect the photo closely before calling the rest over as well. You take a quick glance at it and approve of it. "Could you send it to me later, please?" You ask, and they nod. You then take a look at the time and say farewell because you need to be part of the crowd, and they let you go after handshakes and hugs. "Sunoo, look here." Riki taps Sunoo on the shoulder and points to him in the photo where he is looking at something. "What is it?" Sunoo asks, and Jungwon who at first was confused finally seemed to connect the dots and balled up in laughter. Riki's pointer travles to where Sunoo's eyes are, and they led to you.

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

"You're doing it again." Sunoo sighs from beside him. Jungwon looks at him puzzled and then turn around again, trying to remember what he was doing. "Doing what?" He asks. Sunoo diverts his eyes over to you before looking at him again. When Jungwon doesn't get it, Sunoo repeats it again, but a lot faster and aggrevated. Sunoo sighs before leaning over to whisper to Jungwon, "You've been staring at her for a while. Again." When Sunoo parts he sees that Jungwon's eyes have been connected with you again. "So?" He asks. "So...it's creepy." Sunoo wrinkles his forehead in confusion and looks inbetween you and Jungwon before groaning and giving up.

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

When rehearsing, Riki finds himself turing to you for feedback and opinions even though he is a lot more of an exppert when it comes to dancing than you. "It literally looks perfect, not sure what input I should make?" You comment, shifting your weight from one leg to another as you speak with him, your eyes shifting around the room's ceiling. "Really? Thanks." He says and spins around, letting you be for a while. As he is faced away from you, he has a grin on his face. The rest of his group members stare at him with wide eyes as they look around to see if anyone else was seeing what they were seeing. "What?" Riki hisses after noticing. "You're lovetsruck and it shows bro."

[runaarinn]

✦ 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐯𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡

› 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐲𝐮𝐮 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

› 𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐲: everything is all good here, feel free to indulge as much as you’d like!

› 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: whether or not some of the haikyuu boys would soft launch or hard launch you

› 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫: I thought that this would be really cute, I think I wanna make a couple more parts of this, but we'll see! I do hope you guys enjoy <33!

ᥫ᭡ 𝐔𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐚 𝐖𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 — I feel like bro doesn’t even use social media, like he has a verified profile and everything, but he doesn’t post unless it’s like volleyball-related. however, I think he’d soft-launch the hell out of you. like when he asks you to be his girlfriend and stuff, like people wouldn’t know (I feel like he’s like a really private person), but as a few years pass and he proposes to you he’d post like a singular photo of you with your hand in the camera, GIANT rock on your ring finger with a caption like “she said yes 🙂”. 

when I tell you, EVERYONE is shocked and surprised. like everyone is, including his own teammates. like they would be like “I know that you’re in love with y/n and you guys have been together for like years, but i didn’t know that you were considering marrying her, let alone proposing to her.” and then ushijima would djust be like, “marrying her was always going to be the end goal”, and he would definitely have liek the softest smile on his lips, like its so cute.

he literally only smiles when he talks about you. his teammates and friends start gushing. and I feel like he would totally cry watching you walk down the aisle, too.

ᥫ᭡ 𝐎𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐓𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐮 — I feel like he would attempt to soft launch you, but he just has such a big, fat mouth that he quite literally can’t keep it under wraps. like when the two of you would start dating, he was doing pretty well at keeping it on the low, not by his choice, though. you thought it would be better to slowly make it known that the two of you are a couple, since he does have such an insane fan club of girls, but he understood your reasoning and respected it. 

I think that oikawa is an aesthetic king on the low. so if you guys were to go out on a date at like this super really nice restaurant, he would post a picture [in low exposure lighting, of course] highlighting the two glasses and two plates. he’d probably also caption it ‘on a date, kind of nervous’; and you would just barely be in the frame. on top of that, let’s say that you guys went on a date to like a carnival too, and you guys took two different sets of pictures, he would post the set where your hair is covering your face the most, or where you can’t actually see you that much in general. that way, he can obviously still respect your boundaries of not being ready to let everyone know, but still allowing people to know that the two of you are dating. 

one day, you guys were on a date, and he made this little collage of the two of you just to save to his phone, but he accidentally posted it and didn’t realize till a few hours later when people were blowing up your phone and his congratulating the two of you. everyone was literally super sweet, and saying that the two of you are freaking adorable. you felt a little silly about it all, but oikawa peppered you with kisses and supplied you with D1-level reassurance. mwah.

ᥫ᭡ 𝐓𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐚 𝐊𝐞𝐢 — what’s a hard launch? the hell is a soft launch? tsukishima, more than likely, has heard of these terms before, but he just simply doesn’t care about them; he actually probably thinks that they’re kind of stupid. if you want to show off your partner, then go ahead; if not, that’s fine too. there’s no need to go through a “hard” or” soft” launch. he thinks that the term and label as a whole is really, really stupid.

I don’t think that he’s necessarily the type of person to like try and “hide” or “not” show you off. like I feel like he’s the type of person to have like mad followers on instagram, and he’ll have like a few instagram highlights; like a highlight of just himself, some stuff from volleyball and like a music highlight. and then he’ll randomly post to his stories like pictures of the two of you, and some candid shots of you! eventually he’ll also make a highlight of just you and the name would probably be something simple like ‘🤍’

everyone responds to his story, but literally, he doesn’t pay anybody any mind. to be honest, I literally don’t think he responds to any of his instagram dm’s like at all. it’s really bad. he has stuff sitting in there from his classmates from like years, ago. a little side track, but I feel like this man is also super bad at texting people back. like he would acknowledge the message, but he’ll leave people on ‘read’, or delivered.

ᥫ᭡ 𝐁𝐨𝐤𝐮𝐭𝐨 𝐊𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮 — hard launch. like absolutely, no doubt in my mind he is a hard launcher. mind you — he’d probably hard-launched both of you before the two of you even started dating. I feel like he is such a picture hoarder, like he is at least over 25k pictures in his phone (calling myself out with this one). and a vast majority of those pictures are of you, him, and the team, and random pictures he keeps forgetting to delete. 

when you first joined the fukordani boys volleyball club as one of their managers, you and bokuto hit it off well. you seemed like a really sweet person, you’re super smart, and absolutely drop-dead gorgeous, and he wanted to be your friend really bad! him and akaashi started to invite you to grab something to eat after late-night practices, and even things as simple as sitting outside during the lunch period together. eventually, you’ve naturally grown onto the team, and started to hang out with everyone as a whole as well. 

as time went on, you and bokuto began to spend more one-on-one time with one another — whether it be him walking you home, or you guys hanging out at a cute little cafe that is somewhere in the area. no matter what you guys are doing, bokuto will always take a snapshot or some sort of photo of the two of you together and post it. like yeah, he posts a lot on a regular basis, but it’s not that hard to notice when you, specifically, are being posted a lot more often compared to everyone else. 

when bokuto actually posted a cute candid photo of you holding the most gorgeous bouquet of roses, and somewhere on the screen it’ll say ‘guess whose officially the boyfriend to the most gorgeous girl’, and everyone is literally like “WHATTTTTTTT??” “I thought you guys were ALREADY dating.”

© all pastries (aka content) belong to runaarinn — do not repost, steal, or scrape without permission.

[kuronarnze]

hihii, do you take requests? if so, can i request where reader is a really good cook where we're talking gordon ramsey type of skill? (≧∇≦)

a/n: hihiii anonn !! of course I take requests! (≧∇≦)/ I LOVELOVELOVE doing requests, thank you for requesting!! Enjoyyy !

•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•

Blue lock boys with a reader that is a Gordon Ramsay-Level Chef !

ft. Isagi Yoichi, Itoshi Sae, Itoshi Rin, Shidou Ryusei, Nagi Seishiro, Mikage Reo

•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•

Isagi Yoichi

- At first, he underestimates your skills. Like, sure, you're a good cook—he’s had friends who can cook, right?

- Then he tastes your homemade bento. Silence. Actual silence.

- “...This is… like a five-star restaurant in a box??”

- He watches you cook with sparkles in his eyes like you're performing magic.

- Catch him secretly studying your techniques to try making you something decent in return.

- “Can you teach me how to make that sauce? No, wait—teach me everything.”

•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•

Itoshi Sae

- He's hard to impress. That smug face? Unshakable.

- Until you serve him handmade pasta with black truffle oil, freshly baked focaccia, and perfectly seared wagyu.

- "…You're not normal." That’s the closest you get to a compliment.

- Now he casually texts: “Cooking tonight?” and shows up at your door uninvited.

- He’s smug but respectful. “You might actually be better than my private chefs in Spain.”

•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•

Itoshi Rin

- His walls are high, but food breaks through.

- First meal you cook? He stares at you like you summoned it from heaven.

- He tries to hide how much he likes it.

- Keyword: tries.

- “Tch… I guess it’s okay.” (He finishes the entire plate and doesn’t make eye contact.)

- Secretly takes photos of your food and hides them in a locked folder labeled “Important.”

•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•

Shidou Ryusei

- “Ohhh, you cook? Like real food? Not instant ramen?”

- Doesn't believe you're that good… until he takes one bite and literally moans out loud.

- “YOU’RE A GODDAMN HOT CHEF. HELLA GOOD FOOD. AND THE ONE WHO COOKED IT IS HELLA HOT TOO?? MARRY ME. FEED ME FOREVER.”

- Now follows you around like a gremlin and begs for food.

- Tries to “help” in the kitchen once. You ban him instantly after he lit a towel on fire.

•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•

Nagi Seishiro

- Lazy boy is your biggest fan. He acts like he doesn't care—until he smells your cooking.

- Physically gets up on his own just to eat. That’s love.

- AND YES he actually had the will to eat a full meal.

- “Mmm… This is better than sleep.”

- He wants you to feed him like a spoiled cat. He pouts if you don’t give him bites from your hand.

- “You should open a restaurant. Or just stay here and cook for me forever. Whichever’s easier…”

•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•

Mikage Reo

- He’s rich, so he’s had the finest cuisine… but your food? Instant obsession.

- “Wait, wait—did you make this from scratch? Even the bread?”

- Treats your cooking like high art. He wants to film it, photograph it, write poems about it.

- Tries to convince you to open a luxury restaurant with him as your investor.

- Spoils you in return by getting you rare ingredients and top-tier kitchen tools.

•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•

TYSM FOR READINGG have a nice daayyy, plsplspls send me requests, i honestly don't have anyyy idea on what to writee.

[neferaskingdom]

♡ Too Precious | LN4

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: Lando loves the party life. She prefers quiet nights in. When their differences start to build, so does the tension.

A/N: This is part of my Playlist Roulette series, where I shuffle my playlists and write a story inspired by the first song that pops up. This story is inspired by the song Too Precious by Em Beihold.

Previous | Series Masterlist | Next

'Cause according to you, I'm too precious You're wishin' that I was more reckless You're wishin' that I would smoke 'til I'm high And play with the guys, regret this You're wishin' that I was more trouble Sorry for being a struggle I do what I want and may not be your type Sorry I can't be a person you like

Lando had always been the type to take things too far.

He lived for the noise. Loud music, louder people, places where the drinks never stopped flowing and sleep was something you caught on a plane. It was easier that way. Fill every second, don’t let your mind slow down enough to catch up.

Since he was sixteen, life had been a blur of tracks and cameras and fake smiles at dinners with sponsors. So when the weekends came, when the pressure finally let up, he wanted to feel like he had some control. He wanted to drink, to laugh too hard, to forget.

And at first, she hadn’t minded. She was different from everyone else in his circle. Calm. Private. Comfortable in silence. Lando had thought it was refreshing. Being with Lando meant fast flights to Ibiza, impulsive parties, nights where the sunrise came too soon. But the novelty wore off. Now she just felt tired. Like she was always trying to catch up to a version of him that wouldn’t sit still. She’d thought maybe he’d slow down for her. He thought she’d go along with him.

They were both wrong.

"Just try it," he said, holding out the glass. "It’s literally one drink."

She didn’t even look at it. "I’m fine."

"You always say that."

"And I always mean it."

Lando leaned back against the kitchen counter, the glass still in his hand. "You’re kind of allergic to fun, aren’t you?"

She glanced up, eyes narrowing. "Excuse me?"

He took a sip and shrugged. "Nothing. Just... you’re too precious sometimes."

She blinked, like she wasn’t sure she heard him right. "Too precious?"

"Yeah." He grinned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Too good for all this. For drinks, for staying out past midnight, for letting loose like the rest of us."

She crossed her arms. "That’s not fair."

"It’s not an insult."

"It sounds like one."

Lando tossed the rest of his drink back, ignoring the way her face tightened.

"I’m not going to pretend I’m into something I’m not. That’s not fair to either of us."

He pulled back slightly. "Right. Of course. You're too precious."

"Stop saying that."

He smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Why? If the label fits."

Another night, another party.

She sat in the corner of the room, watching him move through the crowd like he belonged to everyone. He was surrounded by friends, or at least people who laughed when he made a joke and handed him a joint without asking questions.

One of the guys passed it to her.

"I’m good," she said quickly, waving it away.

Lando saw from across the room and walked over, slightly buzzed and way too confident.

"Come on," he said, voice low against her ear. "One puff won't turn you into a delinquent."

"Can we not do this here?"

He straightened, irritated. "We’re just having fun."

"I know. It’s just... not my idea of fun."

His smile faded. "Right. I forgot. You don’t like anything messy."

"That’s not true."

"You say that, but every time things get a little wild, you check out. You sit on the couch and stare at your phone until it’s time to leave."

"Because I don’t want to pretend to enjoy something that makes me uncomfortable."

Lando’s mouth opened, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned back toward the crowd. She watched him go, heart sinking.

The fight came later that week.

He showed up late to dinner, still wearing a wristband from some club he never mentioned he was going to. She had cooked for once, tried to make something that wasn’t takeout.

Lando kicked his shoes off and tossed his keys onto the table like nothing was wrong.

"You look nice," he said, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"You’re late."

He pulled back. "Traffic."

She just stared at him. The lie was too easy.

"You said we’d have a quiet night."

"And we are."

"You went to a party."

He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. "For like, an hour. Don’t make it a thing."

"You could’ve told me."

"I didn’t think I needed permission."

She bit the inside of her cheek. "That’s not what I said."

Lando set the bottle down harder than necessary. "Is this really about me being late, or is this about how I live my life again?"

She met his gaze. "It’s about you never being fully present unless there’s a camera on or a drink in your hand."

He scoffed. "There it is."

"There’s what?"

"The judgment."

"It’s not judgment."

"You keep saying that, but every word out of your mouth is just a more polite way of saying you think I’m a screw-up."

"I just think your... lifestyle. It isn’t healthy."

He blinked, like she’d slapped him. "Wow. That’s what you think of me?"

"It’s just I think you’re constantly burning the candle at both ends and pretending it doesn’t affect you."

He laughed, but it wasn’t light. "So now I need saving?"

"That’s not what I said."

"You didn’t have to."

She stepped closer, trying to stay calm. "I’m not trying to change you, Lando. I just want you to see that this isn’t sustainable."

"You think I haven’t heard that before?" His voice was rising now. "From my team, my parents, everyone who wants a piece of me? I don’t need to hear it from you too."

"I’m not trying to pile on, Lando. I just—"

"What? Want me to grow up? Stay in? Light some candles and watch a movie like everything’s normal?"

"Yes," she said softly. "Sometimes I do."

He stared at her, something shifting in his face. "You want to fix me."

"No," she whispered. "I want to reach you. But you’re always somewhere else."

He laughed, bitter. "That’s rich, coming from you."

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

"I want you to stop treating me like some broken kid who needs to be fixed."

"That’s not fair. I didn’t mean anything like that-"

"You know what’s not fair? You walking around acting like you’re better than all of it. Too perfect to ever mess up. Too perfect to actually live a little."

"I don’t think I’m perfect."

"You act like it. You sit there with your tea and your books and your damn moral compass, and every time I step out of line, you look at me like I’m some kind of disappointment. And now you’re trying to control how I live?"

"I’m not trying to control you."

"You told me my lifestyle isn’t healthy. You basically just said you’re embarrassed by the way I live."

"I said I’m worried."

"Yeah, sorry you can’t mold me into someone you like."

Her throat tightened. "I don’t want to mold you. I want to feel like I’m not losing you to a version of yourself you don’t even like."

"Don’t psychoanalyze me. You don’t get it."

"Partying every night isn’t healthy!"

He went still.

"There it is again!" His tone turned sharp, defensive.

"I think you’re drowning and pretending you’re swimming."

His jaw clenched. "And I think you’re a control freak who’s afraid of anything she can’t schedule two weeks in advance."

"Wow."

"Yeah. Wow."

There was a long pause. Neither of them moved.

Finally, she spoke. "I can’t keep pretending I’m okay with this."

Lando’s jaw tensed. "Then maybe you’re not the person I should be with."

She swallowed hard. "Maybe I’m not."

The silence between them stretched out like a chasm.

He picked up his keys again.

"Let me know when you’re ready to stop looking at me like I’m a problem. I’ll leave you to your quiet night" he said, and walked out the door.

She didn’t cry. Not right away.

Instead, she sat on the couch alone, staring at the plate of food that had gone cold hours ago.

She hadn’t meant to make him feel small. She just wanted him to slow down long enough to see that not everything good had to be loud and fleeting.

But maybe that was the problem.

He didn’t want quiet. And she couldn’t keep pretending to love the noise.

[7-deadly-cats]

killing me softly | 14

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

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

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

✿ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ✿ swearing, suggestive language, suggestive version of truth or dare (non-graphic), mention of weed, coke and alcohol usage, physical violence (a punch to the face) & mention of bloody nose + description of bruise, ruthie being a bitch, reader feeling anxiety/discomfort bc of a dare and bc of chris reid, verbal tension/fight, rafe being an ignorant asshole, mild mentions of vomiting (non-graphic), kinda angsty but also funny and fluff

✿ S U M M A R Y O F L A S T P A R T ✿ you were picked up by rafe for kelce’s party—he kept joking about you needing to get laid, and you finally snapped, calling him out but you ended up solving it. at kelce's you smoked a joint and immediately felt at ease, sharing a chill moment with both boys. later, after the party actually started, rafe left you alone in the kitchen to go sell/and do coke to/with chris reid, and you ended up playing beer pong with molly, topper and his surf friend robert lewis from wilmington. you actually had fun for once—rob was sweet and charming, and seemingly into you. meanwhile, rafe texted you while you were in the bathroom, asking for your location. he also spiraled over the idea that you’d left him to hook up with some random guy. he went to look after you, only to find you had just puked and were fine—leaving him confused and even more on edge. back in the kitchen, tensions flared again when rob reappeared with kelce, and you were clearly enjoying rob's company. rafe, pissed off, decided to join a game of truth or dare—fully ready to ruin rob’s night just to make a point.

✿ W O R D C O U N T ✿ 11.4k+ (oops)

✿ A / N ✿ i didn't think i'd still have that much left to say about the party, but the words just came and somehow we ended up with over 11k. i'm actually very anxious about the direction i went with and not completely happy with how i handled the rob-reader-rafe situation, feels a little underwhelming and i'm sorry if you expected more, but i hope you still enjoy the reader x rafe content and PLSLLSLSLS I NEED TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT THIS PART <3

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

W E E K O N E // F R I D A Y

The moment Ruthie Whitmore decided to join the game, you knew the night could go downhill real fast for you.

Because holy fucking shit, this? This wasn’t Truth or Dare. This was Strip or Humiliate Yourself. Either you did the dare, or you took off a piece of clothing for the rest of the game.

Great, right?

Even the setup was wild. Originally, it was supposed to take place in the living room, but Ruthie thought it would be so much better to play in a private room, so it could be just you guys.

Mhm. Fucking Ruthie Whitmore and her bestie Gracie Malone (very friendly reminder: Rafe’s ex-FWB or whatever) were in on this insane-ass game.

And of course, it had been Ruthie’s idea to play this specific version, and unfortunately, over half the group had been super hyped about it, so it was officially locked in.

So now ten people were sitting in the lower lounge room on a circular couch. The glass table that used to be in the middle had been carried to the side by Kelce and sleazeball Chris Reid (aka the asshole Rafe ditched you for to go deal coke).

And to make things worse: the room had a giant floor-to-ceiling window looking out onto the backyard—where the rest of the party was still going strong.

To sum it up: You were now participating in an absolutely batshit insane, borderline scandalous game. And not just you—some of the worst people you knew were in it too. Oh, and bonus: the room had the perfect view for any drunk watchers hanging out outside.

Mhm. You were fucked.

But getting up and leaving now? Nope. That would officially label you as the cowardly, prude, shy girl everyone probably already thought you were. Plus... you were pretty drunk, still riding the last warm waves of that joint, and even though your heart was pounding like crazy (note for next time: avoid Rafe’s JägerBull mix), somehow it all felt... kind of exciting.

I’m so fucking wasted holy shit.

Also, it was five girls and five guys playing, sitting alternately on the couch (another brilliant Ruthie idea).

And now came the sickest part: you were sitting between Rob and RAFE.

Like ???!!?!?, WHAT KINDA BELLA-JACOB-EDWARD SHIT WAS GOING ON????

Even funnier? After you'd sat down next to Rob (because obviously!), Rafe had taken the seat to your right. EVEN FUNNIER??? The couch, as big as it was, still had everyone sitting kinda squished together and guess what: Rafe manspread like a damn king, arms crossed, leaving you no choice but to shift closer to Rob—so close your thighs were touching and JSJCKSNDKSNCJS.

Let’s just say, your stomach was doing somersaults—and not because you needed to puke again.

Well… maybe a little, because Samantha had just finished her drunk attempt at a lap dance for the perv Chris Reid.

The worst part of that dare wasn’t even some pricks outside watching her—it was that Sam seemed to actually be enjoying it. Swinging her ass in that tiny skirt in front of that asshole, smiling all wide while Ruthie and Gracie cheered her on.

It was so sad and disgusting to watch. If you weren’t such a chicken, you’d go pull her out of there yourself.

“Bitch, that was hot as fuck!” Ruthie yelled, and Sam giggled as she flopped down next to Chris, his hand settling on her bare thigh and NO. Just. EW.

Judging by the look on his face, he couldn’t wait for this game to end so he could disappear with her for a few minutes.

“Ayy, my turn now!” Kelce said, clapping his hands with a big grin. “Hit me with some good shit, Ruthie.”

He was wasted too. Or maybe that was just Kelce being Kelce.

Ruthie smirked like a damn fox and tapped on her phone (mhm. she was the game master, using some weird app she’d entered everyone’s names into that generated these insane dares).

“For 20 seconds, put your hands under the top of…” Ruthie began, and your heart was thundering, nerves buzzing all over, “the person to your right.”

You exhaled in relief—but immediately held your breath again.

All eyes on Molly.

NOT HER.

Kelce raised his brows. “Ayo, that’s kinda sexual harassment, no?”

OH. Kelce Statter actually showing decency??? King shit.

Ruthie just shrugged. “Do it or take your shirt off.”

“I’ll gladly take your place, dude,” Chris chimed in and GOSH THIS ASSHOLE YOU WANTED TO UGHHHHH. Fucking disgusting prick.

Rafe scoffed beside you (YES, THANK YOU), and Kelce’s mouth tugged downward, opening his lips to respond but:

“It’s alright,” Molly said casually and WHAT. GIRL WHAT?! She shrugged with a sweet smile. “It would be consensual.”

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK OMG?!

YOU SNEAKY LITTLE OMGMGMFMM. Did cutie patootie Molly Crane have a thing for CRAZY-ASS LOUDMOUTH KELCE STATTER?? LIKE??? AND WHY DID THIS ABSOLUTELY INSANE SHIP KINDA MAKE SENSE?!!!

Kelce chuckled (yep, your head was fuzzy but you still picked up on the nervousness) and shook his head all cool (bro was 100% flustered). “Nah, it’s cool. I’m a gentleman, okay?”

With that, he reached back and pulled his shirt over his head, revealing some very well-defined abs and muscles (okay, Rafe had been right—Kelce really took the gym bro life seriously).

The other girls and Chris clapped and wooed him on. Except for Molly: she just smiled, all soft and genuinely amused, and KELCE TOTALLY NOTICED AND GOD, IT WAS WEIRDLY SWEET TO WATCH… if you ignored the whole raunchy setting for a second.

“Our dear Molly is next,” Ruthie said, her voice all fake-sweet.

YOU WEREN’T EVEN UP YET AND YOUR NERVES WERE SHOT.

Ruthie tapped her phone and: “Which two people here would you most likely have a threesome with, and why?” She furrowed her brows. "Ugh, boring."

OH. MY. GOD.

AND FUCKING MOLLY DIDN’T EVEN HESITATE. THIS GIRL HAD BALLS OF STEEL. Because in the most casual tone ever, she said, “Hm. Maybe Kelce and Y/N.”

GUYS!!!!!!!!!!!

OH MY… FUCKING GOD.

Molly pulled her legs up, smiled softly, and shrugged. “And I guess I’d just feel comfortable with them both.”

GIRL.

You and Kelce locked eyes for a second, both of you looking like you’d just seen a ghost because WHAT. OMG. LIKE GO GIRL BUT WHAT???

And while everyone else immediately burst into chatter and started debating who they would pick, you barely noticed Rafe’s knee nudging your leg. He glanced over at you, eyebrows raised just slightly, voice low so only you could hear: “You'd be down for that?”

OKAY WHAT THE FUCK WAS GOING ON?

The heat that had already crept into your cheeks after Molly’s answer spread to your whole face. “I…”

For a brief second, Rafe then looked at Rob, sitting on your left—his expression hard to read. “Nah, you’d rather swap Kelce for your new boyfriend, huh?”

Your brows twitched. Something about his voice sounded off, and you weren’t sure if it was just the booze messing with your perception or…

“Okay, this is getting boring, let’s move on!” Ruthie’s shrill voice cut through the air, and everyone quieted down.

Topper was already shifting in his seat—being on Molly’s right, he was next.

Ruthie’s grin twisted into something Joker-esque. “Ohh, I like that one. Send a nude to the last person in your chat history.”

Literally every guy in the circle started grinning like idiots, Kelce and Chris said some dumb shit, and Rafe muttered, “I’m sure his mom’s already seen his dick.”

Even Rob chuckled, shooting Rafe an amused glance. “Pretty sure he’s had her chat pinned since fifth grade.”

Rafe scoffed, appearing amused—but you knew better. You could feel how his whole body tensed beside you, and you were pretty sure it wasn’t out of some protective instinct for Topper.

Which reminded you...Rafe never faked things. He was blunt, direct, and always spoke his mind. But with Rob? There’d been this one-sided tension—like he'd been one second away from decking Rob in the kitchen just earlier. And you couldn’t help wondering if they had some kind of history.

“And?” Ruthie asked, brows raised. “Who’s the lucky recipient?” She pouted. “Or are you gonna chicken out?”

Gracie and Samantha giggled, and Chris laughed, nodding. “It’s fine, bro. If there’s nothing to show, better keep it to yourself.”

Your jaw clenched. Poor Topper looked genuinely trapped and uncomfortable. AND FUCKING CHRIS, THAT GUY LIKE DHFCSBCFHSJDNFCSKHCNDUIK GRRRRRRR.

“Ayo, dude, you sure you wanna be the one bragging?” Kelce chimed in, all casual and grinning, and holy shit, he did it so well. It was definitely a jab but Kelce had this bro-energy that made it sound like nothing.

And just like that, your respect for Kelce shot up by a mile. Him standing up for his friend? YES. KING.

Chris clearly tensed but laughed it off, pretending Kelce’s comment was absurd.

“I’m not doing this here,” Topper said—and everyone looked at him, surprised he even considered doing it.

Ruthie frowned. “Um, yes? That’s literally the whole point of the game. What’s the use if no one sees it?”

“Not everyone’s as public with their nudes as you, Ruthie,” Rafe said, and you had to bite back a smile. (Also, Rafe backing Topper despite their weird tension? Also king shit.)

Ruthie glared at him, then her gaze landed on you like she was about to say some unhinged shit but this time Rob spoke up, shrugging: “Seems fair,” he said. “I mean, he could show it to one of us as proof. Doing this and sending it off seems kinda unbalanced compared to the other dares, right?”

Jesus. A whole Topper Avengers team was forming here, apparently.

It was clear Ruthie didn’t like the direction this was going. Her smile tight and fake. “Sure, I guess, if y’all wanna play the boring version. But he should at least tell us who he’s sending it to.”

Topper, who’d already pulled out his phone, stared nervously at the screen. And it made you so mad that he felt like he had to prove anything here.

“Cara Hall.”

OH.

OH MY GOD.

OKAY, NO—THAT WAS. NO.

Cara definitely didn't want to receive a fucking dick pic right now while celebrating her mom’s birthday, holy shit. You could already picture her face—OH MY GOD.

TOPPER PLEASE DON’T.

Ruthie pulled a face and waved her hand dismissively. “Ugh, okay, then go do your thing. We’ll keep going in the meantime.”

Topper, cheeks flushed, stood up while Chris and Samantha cheered him on.

“Think he still has a shot with her after this?” Rafe said, leaning down slightly so his shoulder brushed yours (?!), his voice dipped in dry amusement.

Okay, WHAT. THE. FUCK. WAS UP WITH HIM???

First, he'd checked on you after your little puke episode (the fact he'd been looking for you in the first place???), then he'd been kinda touchy as he guided you back to the kitchen. Not to mention his insane mood swing afterward for literally no reason—was Rafe too drunk or high to even realize what the fuck he was doing???

You were far from sober yourself but his behavior had shifted so suddenly, it was like he was actively seeking out your—NOPE, YOU JUST DRANK TOO MUCH LOLLLLLZZZ.

“Aight, Ruth, don’t let it get boring,” Chris said, smiling all cocky as Topper left the room.

“Pfft, that’s not on me,” Ruthie muttered, clearly annoyed, and got ready to read the next dare for herself. And judging by the grin on her face, it played right into her hands. “Aww, sweet. Make out with the person to your right for 60 seconds.”

...

She can't be serious.

Yeah, funny. Real fucking funny that the perfect guy happened to be sitting next to her, and she was the one in charge of this whole damn game.

And even funnier, how she first smiled at you before turning to Rob with fluttery, fake-innocent eyes.

“That okay with you?” she asked, voice all smug and sugary and just—HNCDSUNFCJDSFUCKYOU.

Your heart thundered with rage because, for some reason, this just felt so unfair and wrong and AHHHH. Like—no, just NO.

HOW was it that you finally met a guy at a party who you instantly clicked with, who clearly liked you, AND THEN THIS HAPPENED? It felt like the universe had just sucker punched you in the face.

But yeah, sure, it’s cool, everything’s fine.

Would’ve just been too fucking wild if you were allowed to have one lucky day, hm. And you feeling jealous now? It felt so stupid and embarrassing because clearly Rob could do whatever the fuck he wanted. It was a fucking party and you two only knew each other for barely a few hours. There was NO point in getting riled up about this. This whole game was designed for this kind of crazy shit anyway—it was just…

Why Ruthie? Why not Molly? Or giggling Samantha? Or hell, even fucking Gracie? But WHY that bitch?

“Fine by me,” Rob said, and your stomach dropped.

Ruthie’s annoying little friends cheered them on as she and Rob leaned in to get ready to—yeah, no, you didn’t need to watch this shit.

While everyone else watched the two of them make out, your eyes locked on Rob’s back. Looking away entirely would make you seem like a little bitter girl, so you focused hard on the music blasting from outside, just trying not to hear the kissing sounds—or whatever else was happening right next to you.

“Shit, cheer up. You dodged a bullet with this fucker,” Rafe whispered, his shoulder brushing yours AGAIN, and when you looked at him—you had never seen him grin so hard. Like, dude was full-on gloating. Pupils blown wide.

You had no idea if this asshole was mocking you or actually trying to make you feel better.

All you could do was furrow your brows, anger bubbling up inside you—confused and irritated by this whole night. BY RAFE ACTING LIKE THIS?!

You just wanted to get up and go home.

Instead, you sat there frozen, letting the moment pass, subconsciously scooting a little away when Rob shifted back into his seat after him and Ruthie were done.

Now your thigh was touching Rafe's, but at this point, did it even matter anymore?

Gracie and Samantha giggled again, bickering over something, and honestly—could someone just throw them out already??

“Aww, no, you’ve got something right here,” Ruthie said all cheeky, pointing at a smudge of lipstick on the corner of Rob’s mouth.

Rob laughed, surprised. “Oh, thanks,” he said, wiping it away and throwing you a little sheepish smile.

The worst part? He wasn’t some pervy guy. He didn’t seem to have any bad intentions or shady motives. No, he was just genuinely having fun, enjoying the game and the whole social vibe—kind of like a golden retriever, oblivious to Ruthie's stupid shit.

Which made Rafe's apparent disdain toward him all the more ridiculous. Like, Rob was literally just existing and enjoying life. Then again, exactly this worldview was probably what pissed Rafe off in the first place. That guy was a hater.

"What’s taking Topper so long?" Shitface Chris said with a scoff. "Does he need help finding his cock or what?"

Do you need help finding your brain?

“Sounds like you’re volunteering”, Rafe said, scoffing amused.

This time Chris narrowed his eyes, leaning forward like he was ready to throw hands. And Rafe? He raised his chin like he wanted someone to hit him tonight.

O-kay. Two guys on coke? Not exactly the best combo.

"But the game," Samantha said, clinging to Chris’ bicep.

"Sammy’s right," Ruthie chimed in, and then she smiled in that way—and you knew it could only go downhill from here. "Let’s get back to the fun part."

Aaaand your adrenaline spiked the second she met your eyes, that fake-ass smile on her face.

"I think Rob should sit back for now. Catch his breath and all, you know? Then we can move on with you, yeah?"

BITCH.

"No, it's fine", Rob said, genuinely confused.

Ruthie shut him down with that sickly sweet smile of hers. "Aww, no, it's alright. You've already proven yourself plenty."

OH THIS FUCKING BITCH.

Your heart pounded, nerves buzzing, all eyes on you, and the awareness of your sweaty hands just made everything worse. Rafe bouncing his leg beside you didn’t help either.

But you didn’t give your brain time to react. You just nodded with a forced smile and said, "Sure."

"Great." Ruthie was grinning like a damn hyena. She tapped on her phone, the next dare loading, your pulse shooting into orbit, and when that disgusting sparkle lit up her eyes, you knew you were fucked.

"Oh, this one’s..." She giggled again, pretending to hesitate. "I mean, it’s not really bad but for you it might be a little too much..."

Samantha kicked her feet. "Don’t keep us in suspense, Ruth."

God, you hated these wannabe mean girls and whatever fake Barbie energy they were on so much. Like who even talked like that, all sugary and fake?

"Okay, okay, you’re right." Ruthie smiled, still staring at her screen. Then she said, "Play 7 minutes in heaven with..." Her brows twitched, then the biggest grin appeared on her lips. "Chris."

FUCKING HELL, ABSOLUTELY NOT. NOPE NOPE NOPENOPENOPE.

NO!

Just the thought of being in this room with that perv made your skin crawl—but being locked in with him for 7 whole-ass minutes??

FUCK NO.

You just stared at her, feeling Chris Reid’s nasty, filthy gaze on you, the way he chuckled—gross and suggestive—and Ruthie grinning with that awful glint in her eyes.

Your body felt dizzy, heart pounding in your chest, your ears, your head—NO. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t do this.

Not with him.

You didn’t even know what to say, afraid you’d come across as prude or—COULD RAFE PLEASE STOP BOUNCING HIS LEG??

Ruthie tilted her head, pouting. "Aww, knew it was gonna be too much for you. Well then, remove your top."

You pressed your lips together, too many thoughts and emotions boiling over, this whole thing suddenly crashing down like a massive wave of disgust.

"Ruthie..." Kelce started but the bitch just shook her head.

"What? Those are the rules."

Rob seemed to lean over to gaze into her phone, but she immediately turned it away, laughing like everyone else was insane. "Jesus, y’all are acting like this is some crazy dare. It’s just staying in a room with—"

"Okay!" you snapped, heat flooding through your entire body.

No—not heat. That was the suffocating weight of fear and panic at the thought of being alone in a room with Reid.

The room went silent. Only some shitty Travis Scott song kept playing through those obnoxiously loud speakers outside.

It’s just 7 minutes. And he’s not going to force anything, right? RIGHT?!

Heart thundering, adrenaline buzzing through your nerves, ignoring that perv's disgusting smirk across from you, you moved to get up—

And froze.

A warm hand had grabbed your wrist. Gentle but firm.

"That’s some bullshit." Rafe’s voice was low and calm. The way he stared down Ruthie—cold, disgusted—no, actually, there was something deeply unsettling in his gaze.

It gave you goosebumps.

Ruthie scoffed, raising her brows. "Yeah? And why’s that? Jealous she might enjoy—"

"Nah, that fucker’s just a fucking perv," Rafe cut her off, and the entire circle practically gasped.

Reid's brows drew together as he squared up in his seat. "What the fuck, man?"

"What?" A crooked smile spread across Rafe's face. "Am I wrong?"

And just like that, Chris was on his feet, his whole body and face radiating anger. The aggressive football player vibe? Very much present—and those blown-wide pupils? Danger.

A guy like that on coke was definitely not the best mix.

"You got a problem with me, Cameron? Get up and say it to my fucking face," Chris said, his face flushed.

Rafe’s grip on your wrist tightened slightly, and you could feel his whole body tensing up like he was about to rise and blow the entire situation up.

And your heart? Either it had stopped, or it was beating so fast you couldn’t hear it anymore.

"It's fine," you said, forcing a tight smile while a thousand thoughts raced through your head. "I mean, Ruthie’s right. Compared to the others, it’s an easy dare."

Agreeing with that bitch felt more humiliating than what the dare actually entailed.

Rafe looked at you with an intensity and disbelief like you'd just full on slapped him. His pupils were massive, and under the surface, you could sense the storm of anger brewing. He opened his mouth, but Ruthie cut him off.

"See? Your girl gets it," she said.

Chris chuckled condescendingly. "Don’t worry, dude. You know I'm chill. I’ll be soft with—"

He didn’t even get to finish the sentence. Rafe was on his feet—

— and caught a fist straight to the face.

"You’re a bitch, Cameron," Chris gloated.

With a groan, Rafe rubbed his bloody nose, a twisted grimace on his face.

But instead of backing off, he instantly grabbed Chris by the collar—Kelce and Rob jumped up too, rushing to intervene with a panicked, "Ayo, guys, guys!" while Ruthie was giggling like a maniac in the background.

She looked at you, her thumb gesturing toward Rafe. "Get your pathetic dog under control."

Oh, and you were this close to throwing hands with her because she was seriously pushing every button—but the chaos unfolding had you too stunned to do anything.

And somehow, in the midst of it all, Rob ended up the one in Rafe’s crosshairs. As Rob reached out to pull him off Chris, Rafe’s head snapped toward him.

Rafe shoved him hard. "Keep your fucking hands off me."

"Hey, man, come on, you need to chill," Rob said, raising his hands, eyes wide with genuine confusion, like he had no clue why all this anger had suddenly been directed at him.

"Guys, come on," Kelce said over Ruthie's manic giggles.

But Rafe was locked in on Rob, didn't even react when Kelce grabbed his shoulder.

"Oh my God, guys, why are you even fighting?" Ruthie suddenly piped up, her voice all fake-innocent (Rafe was legit about to swing at Rob). "I was just joking."

The room seemed to hold its breath. Everyone turned toward Ruthie now, who was grinning and soaking in the attention like it was the best drink of her life.

She flipped her phone around for everyone to see but held it up toward Rafe specifically. "See, Cameron? You can relax your balls. Lucky for you, the dare actually included your name." She laughed. "I was just messing around a bit."

"You're a bitch, Ruthie," Molly said from behind—and that sentence coming from sweetheart Molly? Lowkey, the craziest part of this whole messed-up night.

Rafe’s face was tight, blood smeared across his nose and lips, a bruised mark blooming on his cheek from Reid’s punch. He locked eyes with you for a split second—his gaze cold, brows twitching like he was waiting for you to say something.

But you couldn't.

He slapped Kelce’s hand away and said, "I’m fucking done with this shit," before pushing past Kelce and Chris and stormed out of the room.

Ruthie sighed, fake sadness plastered all over her face. "Aw, game’s over I guess."

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

"Seriously, why does all the crazy shit always happen when I'm not present?" Cara said, frowning as she watched Topper mix her a non-alcoholic cocktail at the bar outside.

After that whole completely unhinged mess earlier, Kelce had—very nicely, actually—kicked Ruthie and Chris out of the party (thankfully, Gracie had left on her own), and then even apologized to you for their “uncool” behavior.

And not only that, he'd asked if it would be okay if he left you behind to go check on Rafe. Like… dude, you felt SO bad for ever having judged Kelce even a little.

You’d just said, "Of course. I hope he’s doing okay." Even though you kind of really wanted to follow him but you were too afraid of coming off clingy, especially with how done Rafe had seemed with you tonight.

Besides—BESIDES asidefromfuckingbesides—CARA had finally shown up.

Topper (thank GOD the guy hadn't sent her a dick pic) had indeed vanished to the bathroom but instead got into a long texting back-and-forth with Cara, which led to her showing up earlier than planned.

Yep. There was definitely something going on between them.

WHEW.

A LOT had happened tonight.

Which was why the bar in the backyard was the perfect place to stop your brain from sobering up and spiraling.

You’d have enough time for that tomorrow HAHAHAHAHHELP.

"Be glad," Topper said at Cara’s disappointed tone, placing the finished pink drink in front of her. "I didn’t experience the whole mess that went down but Ruthie really lost her shit tonight."

Molly nodded, sipping her own drink. "That’s always how she is. Tries to make up for her insecurities by playing power games." Then she glanced at you. "Sorry she took it out on you."

You shook your head with an awkward smile (suddenly feeling weird about Rob's presence so close to you). "It’s okay. I mean, it was kinda obvious this would happen if she joined and took charge of the game."

"Nah, next time call me right away," Cara said firmly. "I’m not afraid to throw hands with a bitch like that. I’ve been wanting to punch her for years."

You all laughed.

Then Topper’s expression turned serious. "I just hope Rafe’s alright. I mean, taking a punch from a monster like Reid? I’m surprised his jaw’s still intact."

"Right? I thought we were gonna have to call 911," Molly added. "But I guess he got lucky that Chris held back."

Rob nodded with a baffled laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Guess I'm also lucky Rafe held back as well. I seriously thought he was gonna give me a matching bruise."

"Yeah. He's been on edge since this afternoon", Topper said with a frown. "I'm not saying he deserved that punch, but maybe this humbled him for once."

"Okay, we nearly got a crazy-ass fight, which is cool and all but... how did that even happen?" Cara asked—and funny enough, all eyes turned to you.

PLSSSS.

You smiled awkwardly. Even you couldn’t deny that the whole situation had kind of escalated because, well...

"He stepped up for Y/N," Molly said, her voice gentle, her smile amused. "Saved her from playing 7 minutes in heaven with Chris. Very heroic."

NAHHHHHH MOLLY PLEASE DON’T.

Your face flared up instantly—AND FUCKING CARA AND TOPPER SHOOTING EACH OTHER SIDEYES WASN’T HELPING.

"It was just a nice gesture," you said but you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling a little as you thought of how gently he’d grabbed your wrist.

"GIRL, what?! He literally took a punch for you." Cara was shaking her head like a maniac, looking from Topper to Molly. "Please, can one of you just tell her that he likes her? She never listens to me."

CARA OMG.

Molly chuckled and gave you an amused look. "I feel like he would’ve killed someone for you in that moment. Just saying."

"Yeah, me", Rob chuckled and took a sip of his beer.

DGFKHBJKVJKCSLFICJKSAJDFHXKNDSK GUYS.

And to top it all off, Topper chimed in with a deadpan expression: "Please don’t tell me you’ve fallen for this idiot."

OKAY THIS WAS GETTING OUT OF HAND.

You shook your head, your whole face burning. "No!" you laughed nervously. "I mean—"

Someone’s phone rang (a miracle anyone could even hear it over the music), and according to Topper's expression, it was his.

"Kelce," he muttered and answered. "What’s up?"

A weird feeling spread in your stomach. What if Chris’s punch had actually done more damage to Rafe's face? Reid could’ve easily caused a concussion and—

"And why can’t you get it yourself?" Topper frowned as he listened to whatever Kelce was saying on the other end.

"Yeah, sure, I guess. Be there in a sec." With an annoyed sigh, he hung up and stuffed the phone back into his shorts pocket.

"Rafe died?" Cara asked, sipping her drink.

Topper shook his head. "Kelce thought it was more important to smoke a joint first instead of looking after Rafe’s busted face, and now they’re both too stoned to get off their asses."

"There's no better painkiller than a fat J", Rob replied.

Molly chuckled, and you also had to smile, relieved that Rafe seemed to be okay after all (plus huge props to Rob for being so cool about Rafe's almost crashout).

"So now you’re playing sexy nurse or what?" Cara asked Topper, raising a brow in amusement.

Topper shook his head, a faint blush on his cheeks, and walked around the bar. "Nah, they just want some ice for Rafe’s face." He pulled a medium-sized bag of ice cubes from the freezer. "Be right back."

"Wait!" Cara said, grabbing his arm. NO, you did NOT like the look on her face. "I feel like Y/N should go."

Topper raised his brows.

You frowned. "What? Why?"

"Think of it as the perfect chance to thank Rafe for his little hero moment."

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

This is ridiculous.

You stood in front of Kelce’s bedroom door. The music wasn’t nearly as loud up here in the hallway. In your hands: a bag of ice and a towel Topper had handed you.

Why were you even nervous? Seriously?

You were just bringing Rafe this stuff and then heading back down again. That was all. UGH—no, the problem was that YOU were the one standing here instead of Topper.

Before you could spiral with a thousand overthinking thoughts, you shoved down every anxious nerve and the obvious heat in your face, and knocked on the door.

Your brows furrowed when no one answered.

Okay, no big deal. I’ll just go in, drop off the ice, maybe ask if everything’s alright, and then dip. Rafe won’t think I’m clingy.

Ugh. Maybe you really should’ve taken more of Topper’s shots.

You opened the door and peeked inside.

And what the actual fuck—Kelce’s room was way cleaner than you'd expected. The bed was made, posters of athletes and boxers were hung in perfect symmetry on the walls, everything on the desk was neatly arranged... and it didn’t smell like gross boy.

Nope. Instead, a sweet scent of weed drifted in from the half-open balcony door, Kelce and Rafe’s muffled voices outside.

You bit the inside of your cheek. I got this.

You walked straight to the glass door and knocked like a little idiot.

Kelce smiled right away and stood up. Rafe had his back to you, not bothering to turn around (probably expecting Topper—and let’s not forget they still had some weird beef going on).

"Yo, Y/N. Oh wait, the door’s kinda heavy," Kelce said, voice slightly slurry (yeah, he was totally wasted—eyes half-lidded and red), and slid the glass door open.

You smiled gratefully, doing your best NOT to meet Rafe’s eyes as he finally turned around. "Thanks."

"Hey, no problem," Kelce said with a grin and gestured to the outdoor couches. "Come on, sit down. Guess you needed a break from Ruthie’s madness too."

You shook your head gently. "Oh no, I was actually just..." You held up the ice pack and towel. "Topper said you’d asked for this."

Kelce raised his eyebrows like he’d just had a full-on epiphany. "Ahh, shit, right. Forgot about that."

Dude was gone.

"That idiot too scared to bring it himself or what?" Rafe said, his tone dry.

You finally dared to meet his eyes—and the bitterness in his stare didn’t even register because all you could focus on was the big red bruise on his right cheek that tightened your chest.

He looked wrecked, and guilt crawled up your spine.

"Nah, he probably just didn’t want to miss the chance to lock down Cara," Kelce cut in, flopping back down on the couch across from Rafe.

You used the laid-out opportunity and nodded with an awkward smile. "Seems like it."

"Understandable. That chick's a bombshell."

That actually made you chuckle. "I know."

"Then let those two do their thing and come chill with us," Kelce said, gesturing toward an empty armchair.

You clenched your teeth. As much as you'd love to join them, Rafe probably didn’t want—

"Okay," you said and sat down in the chair between the two of them. You held the ice pack awkwardly in the air, eyeing Rafe with a sheepish smile.

He simply gestured toward the table in the middle. "Drop that shit there."

... Was he really too proud to hold a damn ice pack to his clearly busted face?

"Dude, that looks bad. Just take the damn thing," Kelce said, bless him.

Rafe scoffed and winced (clearly from pain). "Nah."

"You're stupid," Kelce shot back, shaking his head.

GRRRRRRRR, why was he so fucking stubborn? You wanted to smack that ice pack against his cheek yourself.

Well, girl, like he said, he wasn't your stupid boyfriend—so who cared, right?

You placed the towel and ice on the table.

This is all so awkward for no reason.

"So, psycho games aside, how do you like the party so far?" Kelce asked, eyeing you with a half-lidded grin.

Hmm, aside from being ditched by Rafe, finding a new guy who you'd lost interest in after his make-out-session with Ruthie, getting dragged into some gross dare, possibly becoming Ruthie’s next target, being the reason Rafe’s face was bruised to hell, and not to mention the absurd amount of mixed signals he'd thrown at you tonight?

You smiled. "Pretty good. I had fun."

"Glad to hear it." Kelce nodded with genuine satisfaction and slumped deeper into the couch, staring up at the stars for a moment. "I think the highlight for me was Molly choosing us for a threesome."

A baffled laugh slipped out. "Yeah, I guess."

Kelce turned to look at you, warmth in his eyes. "You think she meant it?"

Aww, did he catch feelings because of that? LMAO.

Rafe let out an amused breath and shifted in his seat. "Shit, she was probably just being nice ‘cause you didn’t grope her tits."

No, bro, YOU don’t get to play anti-cupid.

“I think she likes you,” you said to Kelce, ignoring Rafe’s glare. “I mean, sure, not going through with Ruthie’s stupid dare was definitely part of it, but even before that, she didn’t seem, um... turned off by you touching her.”

AM I PLAYING MATCHMAKER FOR KELCE STATTER AND MOLLY CRANE HOLY SHIT?

Kelce sat up straight, nodding. "Holy shit, you’re right." He smiled like an actual kid. "I think she’s the coolest girl I’ve ever met. So chill and unbothered. And her freckles move when she laughs. Can't believe I've never really talked to her before."

DMJWSKBCFJFSDBCHSKJD PLSSS JUST MARRY HER.

"Dude, you're wasted," Rafe said with a condescending scoff.

What the fuck was his problem, like BE FR—be happy for your bro.

Maybe if you played this right...

"I think she’s still with Topper and Cara at the bar," you said, looking at Kelce with a smile (intentionally leaving out Rob), shifting a little as if you were about to stand up. "I should probably get back to her so she’s not stuck third-wheeling them."

“No, no, it’s fine,” Kelce said, jumping up like he’d just sobered in 0.2 seconds. “You deserve some chill time after all this chaos. I’ll go save her from Topper’s tragic flirting attempts.”

With that, he walked past you, flashing the biggest idiot grin, and closed the balcony door behind him.

...handle facing down.

Shit.

Now you were stuck with Rafe, which had kinda been your plan, because something deep inside you wanted to work through the tension between you two—but um... there was no way out now if things got messy.

Cool cool cool cool. Now you actually were playing 7 minutes in heaven with Rafe after all.

Or hell, depending on what kind of mood he was in.

Rafe furrowed his brows, probably having come to the same conclusion, and slouched deeper into the couch. "Don’t tell me you actually think he has a chance with her."

You frowned. "Why not? As a girl, I can tell she genuinely likes him."

"Shit, if you say so," Rafe muttered, tilting his head, eyes glassy and red from the weed and probably leftover coke. "What about your new boyfriend? That fucker ditched you to chase Ruthie?"

You raised an eyebrow. "What’s your problem with Rob?"

No way in hell you'd feed his ego by telling him you'd ditched a chance at...something, for him. Because guess what, Rob had actually seemed pretty sad and disappointed that you'd leave him behind by bringing Rafe the ice (wow, you'd actually pulled a Rafe on him).

Didn't matter anyway. Him having exchanged saliva with Ruthie was such a turn-off—even if he didn't mean any ill by it—that all the butterflies you'd felt for him had died almost instantly.

Rafe nodded with an amused, almost triumphant expression. "So I’m right."

"No, I’m serious. The way you nearly started a fight with him, even though Chris was the one who punched you," you shook your head with an irritated smile. "What the fuck was that about?"

Rafe shrugged, eyes tired. “Shit, he’s a fucking asshole. Would've deserved a good beating.”

Wow, going straight to a beating...they definitely had some kind of history.

"An asshole? That’s not the impression I got," you said, fed up with his bullshit. "He was polite, respectful, and tried to save you from getting your ass beat by Reid."

"Oh, yeah he's a real hero for throwing himself at Ruthie", Rafe said with an irritated smile. "Is that why you're here now? Trying to get back at him or some shit?"

What the fuck was even going on in this guy's head?

You furrowed your brows in confusion. "Seriously, your passive aggression toward him is so fucking weird."

"Did you want me to kiss his fucking ass or some shit?" Rafe sat up straight, gesturing to his chest. "I don’t see you thanking me either for saving you from getting harassed by a fucking perv."

Oh, the audacity.

"I didn’t ask for that," you shot back sharply, even though—fuck—you were indeed very thankful for his interference. You didn’t even want to imagine what that creep Chris might’ve tried.

Rafe leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "You’re fucking kidding me, right?"

"I’M the one feeling played here," you snapped, then instantly pressed your lips shut—those shots from earlier were definitely kicking in. Your mouth now faster than your brain.

Rafe's whole posture shifted, with almost the same intensity he'd looked at Ruthie earlier. "The fuck is that supposed to mean, huh?"

I thought I’d at least earned some of your attention tonight.

But actually saying that out loud? Fuck no—then you’d sound like a psycho, crazy, clingy bitch.

"Your behavior tonight is confusing," was all you managed to say.

And Rafe? His whole face twisted like you’d just said the dumbest shit imaginable.

"I’M confusing? That’s rich—coming from the girl who complained about not wanting a hookup tonight, then throws herself at the next best fucker.”

Fuck that.

“Okay, first of all, I didn’t complain. I asked you not to make fucking jokes about me needing to fuck my brains out,” you snapped. “And second, there is no reason why I should justify anything to you. It’s not like I did anything wrong.”

Rafe scoffed. “You act like you’re this perfect little girl but in reality? You can’t even handle being at a fucking party on your own.”

“Wow. That’s low, even for you”, you said dryly.

“Is it? I left you alone for thirty fucking minutes and where do I find you? Puking your guts out in the bathroom after letting Prince Charming pour you drink after drink.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh. “Rob treated me with more respect than you did all night.”

“You’re an ungrateful brat,” Rafe spat bitterly. “’Cause guess what? Fucking Sunshine Robert wasn’t the one making sure you were okay after you puked your soul out, and he definitely wasn’t the one who took a punch in the face for you.”

Your lips parted in disbelief. “Right, so caring leaving me behind to go snort coke with the same prick who gave you this bruise.”

Rafe smiled irritated, gesturing at his chest, frustration visibly bubbling over. “What the fuck did you expect me to do, huh? I asked you to come along and you declined.”

You clenched your jaw. “I know, but—”

“But what? You expected me to go run after you? Beg you to stay with me and act like some stupid boyfriend or some shit? Is that what you were hoping for tonight?”

You wanted to snap back. Call him out for being an ignorant asshole, a dick for inviting you and then leaving you behind, then suddenly seeking your presence for whatever reason, and for being a fucking loser for pulling this whole I-don’t-give-a-shit act.

But unlike him, you had decency.

"Okay, seriously, what the fuck is your fucking problem with me all of a sudden?" you asked, trying to steady your voice. "You’ve been off since this afternoon, switching personalities every two seconds, and it obviously started right after you've found out that I was joining you for Topper's ride."

Rafe's brows furrowed, probably having expected you to actually snap back, throw some insults at him like he’d done, and you could tell by his whole posture that he was about to say some bullshit to twist the blame and come out on top.

But not this time.

"Don’t even think about throwing some fucked-up comment back at me," you said before he could open his mouth. "I’m actually trying to talk this out because I’m sick of you deflecting everything like an ignorant asshole."

Rafe scoffed condescendingly and tapped his temples like a maniac. "I seriously can’t make any fucking sense of you. One second, you want me to be this unbothered guy; the next, you're desperately looking for confrontation. What kind of crazy-girl-bullshit is this?"

"Okay, let’s get this straight," you said sharply, emphasizing your words with a hand gesture. "When I said I appreciated you not making a big deal out of things, I did not mean you should avoid confrontation altogether. I appreciate you not making fun of my anxiety—yes—which, by the way, I’m taking back because you did just earlier. But I do want you to take shit like this seriously."

That actually shut him up for a second. His face scrunched up like the idiot was trying to make sense of your words.

You took the chance and continued, voice now more controlled: "I don’t want you pushing your own feelings aside just because you think I can’t handle confrontation."

And Rafe was back with an offended smile. "My feelings? Holy shit, do you—"

"Oh my fucking god," you groaned, giving him a look like he'd never heard of basic communication. "Concerns, issues, feelings, okay? Stuff that’s bothering you. Seriously, stop acting like I’m attacking you all the time, I’m just trying to solve a thing here. And right now, it seems like something about me is bothering you, the way you’ve been acting all night."

For a second, something in his expression shifted. Very subtle. Could’ve been your imagination—because right after, he was back in defense mode (or attack mode, since with Rafe, it was always offense as defense).

"Why the fuck would you think I've got an issue with you?"

Literally what. This guy? Zero brain activity.

"Are you fucking serious right now?" You scoffed in disbelief. "The way you'd reacted at school when Topper announced I’d be joining your ride? Pretty damn clear I wasn’t welcome. The way you got all pissed with me in the kitchen earlier for no damn reason? I mean, what the fuck. And now... whatever this is."

Rafe leaned forward, shaking his head with squinted eyes, gesturing to his chest again. "Then why the fuck would I even bother picking you up in the first place?"

"Yeah, no shit."

"What?"

"Exactly: what."

Rafe's lips stayed parted like his brain was trying to connect the dots—but he wasn’t connecting shit by the looks of it. He leaned back, sank into the couch, and closed his eyes, face scrunching up. Out of anger, frustration, or pain, you couldn't tell.

Motioning with his hands to his temples, he said, "I can't listen to this shit anymore. You’re giving me a fucking headache."

Perfect. You’d been crushing on a full-grown toddler all these years.

You sighed and rubbed your eyelids with both hands, frustrated with how incapable he was of holding an actual conversation.

And the worst part? You actually felt bad for him because clearly, he wasn’t used to someone actually trying to solve things with him.

"You’re an idiot," you finally said, surprised with how soft it came out.

Rafe opened his eyes, eyebrows furrowed, ready to reply some bullshit—then he winced, a hand snapping to his cheek as if he’d been hit again.

Something tugged at your chest. Pushing the anger down for a second, you said, "You really should put that ice on before the bruise swells up or gets worse."

"Shit probably looks worse than it feels," Rafe muttered, though the pain was written all over his face.

"You look like shit."

"I don’t need that fucking ice."

You clenched your jaw. This was the biggest, dumbest, most stupid idiot alive with the communication skills of a baby. How the fuck had he ever seemed intimidating to you in any way?

God, I’m the idiot for seeing him as this untouchable crush. All he is... is a fucking dumbass.

Somehow, in this moment, that realization flipped a switch in you. Instead of the years-long crush you'd built up in your head, all you were seeing now was a stubborn idiot with the temper—and brain—of a 13-year-old Fortnite kid.

…and a poor idiot who had never learned how to express real emotions — either because he was never taught or never allowed to.

And because the alcohol and frustration had shredded your filter and restraint, you grabbed the damn ice pack, wrapped it in the damn towel, and got up to sit beside that damn idiot.

He just gave you an irritated look. "What? You actually wanna make out now?"

"Jesus Christ, that bruise looks even worse up close," you said, ignoring his stupid comment.

Because it did—a blotchy mess of deep red and the first hints of purple creeping in around the edges, the skin over his cheekbone already swollen, dried blood still crusted, and you could feel the pulsing pain just by looking at it.

"You’re lucky he didn’t dislocate your jaw with such force", you said, unable to remove your gaze from his bruise.

That made Rafe chuckle in disbelief. "That fucker just hit a lucky shot. He wouldn’t stand a chance in a real fight."

Oh my god, we get it. You’re the strongest, coolest guy in the world.

"Yeah, I’m sure," you said dryly—and then gathered every last bit of courage you had, pushed down your own ego, and raised the cool pack to his cheek.

"Shit, stop that, I don’t need you nursing me," he said with a strained smile, pushing your hand away.

And the fact that you were making him uncomfortable almost made you laugh out loud.

You allowed yourself a smirk, holding the pack out to him. "Well, you clearly need it. So do it yourself."

He eyed you like you’d just insulted his entire bloodline.

"Oh fuck that," you said and pressed the cold towel against his cheek.

And well, the alcohol hadn’t just lowered your inhibitions—it had also messed with your coordination which meant you basically hit him.

"Fuck," he winced, pulling away, face twisted in pain.

You chuckled. "If you don’t cool that now, you’ll be walking around like Quasimodo tomorrow."

"You almost gave me a concussion with that", he replied, his amusement finally returning.

"Oh my god, shut up and hold still." With a suppressed smile, you reached out again. This time, you tried to be gentle, carefully dabbing at the dried blood on the corner of his mouth.

To your surprise, he actually stayed quiet, jaw tense, letting out small groans every time the towel stung—but he endured it with a frown so dramatic, he could've played an extra in Bridgerton.

Your heart was racing in your chest, the heavy bass from downstairs syncing with its beat, head slightly dizzy from the alcohol, and the smell of weed in the air mixed sweetly with his cologne.

The silence between you two (aside from his suppressed groans) felt heavy. Not with tension, not with anger—more like... something else. Something you didn’t dare name, not even in your head.

You scooted closer to get a better angle, but in your dizzy state, you accidentally bumped him with the pack again.

"Fuck. Give that shit to me," he said, taking it from your cold hands, his tone lacking any real bite. "You’re a horrible nurse."

"And you’re a pussy," you shot back with an amused smile, nerves buzzing.

Rafe scoffed, eyebrows drawn together, and turned away to rewrap the ice, but in his profile, you saw him trying to suppress a smile.

You leaned back, pulling your legs up to the side, elbow resting on the couch arm. A warm feeling spread in your chest as you noticed how soft his features actually appeared when he wasn’t in his usual you-piss-me-off mode.

And somehow, seeing him like that—with that big ugly bruise, the little smile on his lips, the obvious pain he was feeling—made you put your ego aside, pushing away the remnant anger from your fight.

"I need to correct myself," you said.

Rafe looked at you for a moment, irritation written on his face. "What?"

"Earlier… when I said I didn't ask you to step up for me," you said, voice quieter now. "I am thankful for that. More than I’m able to express.” You shifted your gaze for a second. “Obviously, I know the dare itself wasn’t even that crazy compared to the others, but…" You played with your fingers and frowned. "The thought of being locked in a room with him… I don’t—"

Rafe waved a hand dismissively. "That fucker's a disgusting perv."

"Yeah, I know. I just…" Your eyes wandered to the awful bruise on his face. "I’m sorry that happened."

Finally, he looked you in the eyes, something softer behind the tension in his gaze. Something hesitant.

Then he shrugged and sank back into the couch again—finally pressing the damn ice pack to his cheek.

"I’ve been through worse shit," he muttered—and you didn’t dare ask what or from whom.

You just nodded, the air between you suddenly heavier than before. The dull thump of Mask Off by Future playing downstairs, some drunk guys shouting along to the lyrics.

Rafe shifted in his seat, jaw clenched like there was still frustration in him bubbling beneath the surface.

And then the craziest fucking thing happened:

"Shit, okay, guess I’m sorry too," Rafe fucking I’m always acting nonchalant Cameron said, glancing at you with those big tired eyes before staring ahead again like he was afraid of holding your gaze. "If I made you feel like you weren't welcome or some shit."

His brows pulled together, face scrunching like his idiot brain was still searching for the right words. "And shit, I don't know—I guess it was also stupid to leave you behind with all these pervs and gossiping bitches around." He let out a pitiful scoff. "Pisses me off I dealt coke to the same fucker that smashed my face."

Okay, scratch everything—your crush just went nuclear again. Your heart was back in the race, and the butterflies in your stomach were basically tearing themselves apart from excitement.

His blue eyes locked with yours again. "You are fucking weird and crazy," he said, a crooked smile tugging at his lips, "and your anxiety overthinking whatever bullshit you have going on definitely drives me fucking insane. But I don't know..." He let out an amused, almost awkward (!!!) breath, his voice containing a nervous (!!!) edge. "I guess I fuck with that."

...

OH.

MY.

HOLY.

FUCKING.

GOD.

LIKE WHAT. WHATWASTHATWHATTHEHELLWHAT?!?

Your brain couldn’t even process it. What he’d just said. The fact he'd said it. Him finally showing some sincerity. And the way he looked—so stupidly sweet with that busted face and crooked smile.

I CAN’T OMG.

You didn’t even care that he was probably just saying this because he was stoned as hell, maybe even had a mild concussion that cracked his emotional firewall (seriously, dude should see a doctor tomorrow), and some chaotic mix of sketchy drinks in his system.

It was the fact that he'd actually made the effort to communicate his thoughts at all, letting himself show some vulnerability despite all that fucking ego.

OH MY GOD THIS IS TOO MUCH. (Also, yeah, let’s ignore him having called you crazy again—you honestly didn’t care right now.)

"That... I appreciate it," you said quietly.

Rafe raised his brows, a smile tugging at his lips. "Shit, no crazy-ass monologue? That's an improvement."

Your smile widened. "Well, I’m just gonna assume you’re not saying all that just so I don’t go up to Mr. Smith and ask him to kick you out of our project."

Rafe scoffed, his smile lazy and half-lidded. "Did it work?"

"Nah, I’m not that easy to buy," you replied with a smirk.

"Shit," he muttered with a low chuckle, "guess I gotta change my strategy then."

And then—everything in you froze.

Because if your eyes didn't betray you, his gaze dropped to your lips. Just for a second. LITERALLY A NANOSECOND.

Barely noticeable. But enough.

Almost instantly, panic hit you like a freight train.

Full red alert blaring in your body.

Your brain shutting down.

Heart rate? Through the roof.

Internal monologue? Screaming.

AND THEN THAT FUCKER HAD THE AUDACITY TO LEAN FORWARD, REMOVING THE TOWEL FROM HIS CHEEK—

—only to get a better look at something that caught his attention behind you.

"Holy shit", he said, brows raised. "That fucker actually did it."

Still dazed by whatever the hell was happening, you forced yourself to turn—and oh god—bathed in Kelce’s neon lights, two silhouettes were making out.

Oh god.

OH GOD.

"I don’t think he knows we’re still locked out," you mumbled, awkwardness creeping in. You did not want to sit here with Rafe and accidentally witness Molly and Kelce doing… that.

Rafe raised his eyebrows, amused. "You really wanna interrupt them now?"

"Um, yeah?"

"Might learn a thing or two," he said, and immediately raised his hands with a boyish chuckle when he saw your glare. "Shit, okay, sorry. I’ll handle it."

With a frown, you watched him get up, toss the coolpad onto the couch, and knock on the glass door.

Somehow, this was all so embarrassing and you weren’t even sure why. PLUS YOU WERE STILL SHAKEN BECAUSE OF THAT MAYBE-ALMOST-LEANING-IN-FOR-A-KISS-MAYBE-JUST-HIM-TRYING-TO-GET-A-BETTER-VIEW-OF-THE-SEX-SCENE-BEHIND-YOU-MOVEMENT.

Kelce opened the balcony door, grinning like the luckiest idiot on Earth. "Ayo, you guys still here?"

"You fucker locked us out," Rafe replied.

Kelce rubbed the back of his neck. "Oh shit, my bad. Didn’t notice." He gestured behind him. "So, if you could—"

"Yeah, yeah," Rafe said, already pushing Kelce to the side.

You quickly got up too, snatched the coolpad, and slipped past Kelce with an awkward smile.

Molly, sitting on the bed, gave you a little wave as you and Rafe walked by.

JESUS.

In the doorway, Rafe turned around, about to throw a stupid comment at you (probably something like "you sure you don't wanna stay and watch?"), but you pressed your hands against his back and pushed him out of the room, cheeks burning.

You quickly shut the door behind you and met his eyes with an oh-my-fucking-god look.

Somehow, that made both of you laugh.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

"You sure you wanna dip already?" Rafe asked, watching you slip into your jacket in the entrance hall.

It wasn’t even cold outside, but that flimsy excuse for a jacket didn’t look like it’d keep you warm at all.

You raised your brows at him, amusement flickering in your eyes. "‘Already’? It’s 4am."

Too fucking early for a Kelce party, Rafe thought, his chest still feeling warm from the last three hours.

After you two had fled from Kelce’s room to give him some peace and quiet to have his fun with Molly, you’d dragged Rafe to the bathroom first (which had excited a very specific part of him more than he was ready to admit), but all you made him do was play security outside the door (much to his dismay) while you went in to pee. When you came back out, you both ended up chilling with Cara and Topper in the living room.

Too fucking high and sore from the throbbing pain in his face, Rafe had pretty much collapsed against your side on the couch, nearly crashing into your hip. You’d just giggled and didn’t even seem to mind how close he was sitting (not that he'd been able to move away anyway, even the tiniest movement was draining all the strength out of him).

Then he had to endure listening to Topper and your friend getting loud over some absolutely uninteresting bullshit, and he couldn’t figure out how those two even vibed like that. He only started paying attention when the conversation somehow turned to weird sex stuff, but then again, he absolutely didn’t want to picture Topper doing any of that, so he’d just pulled you into a side convo, letting you ramble about random shit you were excited about.

And somehow, Rafe found himself listening—which was fucking strange because normally, he didn’t give a single shit what some girl was babbling about. Especially when he was only giving her his attention for a shot at getting laid.

With you, it was different, but he didn’t know how exactly. Like sure, if you’d actually dragged him into the bathroom earlier to go down on him, he definitely wouldn’t have said no, but the actual crazy part was that he hadn’t even wanted to leave after it hadn’t happened.

Whatever the fuck that meant.

So there he was, slouched next to you on that stupid couch in Kelce’s living room, idiot Topper trying (and failing) to win over your best friend with some of the worst flirting Rafe had ever witnessed, and the bass from the music vibrating through his skull.

Somehow, three hours just passed like that. And Rafe didn’t even need another line.

But now that you and your friend had decided to dip, that familiar pull in his chest was back again—the one that told him the high was fading, and the low was creeping in.

"Yeah, and? You got plans tomorrow or what?", he asked, almost feeling offended by your question.

Cara scoffed. “Girls need their sleep. And unlike some people here, we don’t snort a line of white and bounce back like it’s nothing.”

Idiot Topper chuckled beside her.

Rafe wasn’t sure what to make of your friend. She had the mouth of a boxer, was more eager to throw hands than any guy he knew, but still didn’t fall into the same category as someone like Ruthie.

Honestly, as long as she didn't get on his nerves, he could tolerate her.

And since he didn’t feel like getting into some dumb argument with her, he decided to let the comment slide. "That’s what Saturdays are for. You’ve got the whole damn day for spa girl shit or whatever."

Your soft laugh next to him made something warm bloom in Rafe’s chest, and he had to suppress a smile.

"No thanks," Cara replied dryly, turning to Topper with a blank stare. "Next time Ruthie starts any shit, text me right away. I’ll put the bitch in her place."

Topper chuckled. "That the only reason I’m allowed to hit you up?"

Rafe locked eyes with you, face deadpan, and you both internally gagged. That idiot was so bad at flirting it hurt.

"If you don’t want me to block you, then yeah," your friend replied, tone serious (her weird sense of humor very much questionable), and grabbed her bag. She then pulled Topper into a quick goodbye hug. "Well, tell Kelce ciao from me. Party was cool and all. I assume he’s still busy."

All four of you chuckled, and when Cara moved to hug Rafe goodbye too, he tensed slightly, not having expected that, pulling back quickly as soon as she stepped back.

"Thanks again for the invite or whatever," she mumbled impatiently to no one in particular, then turned to you. "I’ll wait in the car. My feet are killing me."

With that, the crazy girl you called your best friend left.

Topper eyed you with an uncertain smile, rubbing the back of his neck. "I can't tell if she likes me or not."

"Trust me, you'll know if she doesn't," you replied with a cheeky smile, and Topper nodded like the dumb idiot he was.

Then he stepped forward to pull you into a hug as well, and the way your arms slid around his neck for a second itched Rafe in all the wrong ways—but he figured it was just the sight of Topper that got on his nerves.

"Glad you came," Topper said with one of his usual, butter-up smiles. "Hope you had fun, despite... well, you know."

You nodded with a chuckle. "Yeah, it's all good, no worries. Thanks for looking out for me earlier tonight."

Rafe couldn’t help but wonder what exactly you and Topper had been up to while he'd been gone. And because he couldn't stand whatever this thing between you two was, he just nodded impatiently and said, "Yeah, yeah, great job. He deserves a gold medal. Can we wrap this up now?"

Topper gave Rafe a frown and for a second, Rafe expected that idiot to bring up that stupid driver argument in front of you—something he was lucky Rafe had already decided wasn’t worth his time anymore.

But Topper just turned back to you with a smile. "Get home safe."

"Thanks," you said, and with that, the idiot left.

Finally, Rafe felt like he could breathe again. And yet—something tugged at his chest at the thought of you leaving now.

"You two should fix this," you said, your tone firm.

Fuck no. Not again.

"Still no clue what the real reason behind this beef is," you went on, softer now, "but I guess that doesn’t matter. He’s your friend."

Rafe frowned, but he was so done with this topic and somehow didn’t want to snap at you again, so he just shrugged. "By Monday, that idiot's gonna have calmed down."

You raised your brows, expression dry. "With 'idiot,' you mean yourself, I assume."

God, Rafe would have loved nothing more than to shut you up. And the way he'd do it startled even him.

"Shit, just a few drinks and suddenly you're all bold, huh?", he replied, fighting the urge to look at your lips.

"I've always been bold," you said with a sly smile. "Right now I just don't care how it comes across."

Rafe gave a lopsided smile and tapped his head with a finger. "Nah, I think the minions in your head are just finally comfortable around me."

And shit, it was the truth. Rafe didn’t care to describe it but since your stupid little fight, you seemed to be more… at ease around him. No more uncomfortable smiles and nervous energy bullshit radiating off you.

Which meant: he’d been right all along (as expected).

Bringing you here had helped to shut your crazy-ass brain finally down, and that, in turn, promised no more project sessions in which Rafe felt like he was holding you at gunpoint because of the tension you had going on in his presence.

Mission accomplished.

"Actually, they’d love to beat up the minions in your head. But kinda hard to do when it's empty", you replied.

Rafe laughed and ignored the sharp pain shooting through the right side of his face. "Aight, I think you’ve ran your mouth enough."

You chuckled, and suddenly the question was on the tip of his tongue—whether you maybe wanted to stay, whether he should walk you home instead, whether you’d like to crash at his place.

Fuck, no. Rafe swallowed that ridiculous thought down fast.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," you said, and Rafe drank in your smile. You stepped closer and he half expected you to reach out to him but you just tapped your finger against your cheek. "And you should definitely get that looked at. It’s looking worse by the second."

Rafe chuckled. "Already had a nurse check it out. Her hands were about as gentle as the Hulk's, but I guess it’ll do."

"Sounds like she should’ve beat you up instead of looking after you."

Rafe raised his chin, the corners of his mouth tugging down. "What if I was into that shit?"

You gave him a deadpan look but he could definitely see your brain short-circuiting which only made him feel all the more cocky.

"Then I’d say, keep your kinks to yourself," you said. "Because I’m heading out now."

A laugh slipped from Rafe’s lips. He saw the hesitation in your eyes and decided to save you from your misery, stepping forward with an "Aight" and pulling you into a goodbye hug.

Your hands wrapped around his neck as he pressed himself against you, feeling like he’d just done two back-to-back lines—your scent taking over his mind, almost making him act on instinct and letting his hands wander. But that thought sobered him up REAL quick, and he kept his fingers where it was considered appropriate.

When you pulled away, his chest clenched hard. Again he found himself debating whether he should ask you to stay.

Fuck that shit.

Coke and weed never made him this fucking pathetic. He'd definitely need to talk with Barry about his new formular because what the actual fuck?!

A soft smile curved your lips, your whole presence suddenly glowing. "Thanks for... everything," you said, stepping back and pulling your flimsy little jacket around your shoulders. "Then I’ll see you Monday, I guess."

Rafe nodded and walked you to the door. "Should be enough time for your brain to recover."

You gave him a mock frown. "And for you to discover yours. I still haven't forgotten that you've called me an ungrateful brat."

"Alright, you better dip before you actually start getting on my nerves," Rafe said as he opened the door, his eyes landing on the Bentley waiting outside. "I'm just gonna assume your friend had the sense not to drink tonight."

You slipped past him with a bratty smile. "I'm not even sure she has a license."

And with that, you turned and stumbled your way toward the car.

Rafe’s eyes trailed after your dimly lit figure, and before another one of those insane thoughts could creep into his head, he closed the door.

Suddenly, the same emptiness settled in—the one he’d felt the last time you'd left Tannyhill. But he was too tired, too hazed from Kelce’s fat joint, his head pounding too loud with the echo of the bass, to really process the reason behind it.

Even all the rage he’d felt earlier toward that fucking perv Chris and that surfing bastard Robert Lewis had dulled. Rafe would’ve definitely thrown hands tonight—he’d even offered Kelce a baggie of coke to stir Lewis up, just to have a reason to punch his jaw in (not that Rafe ever needed a reason but it was more fun if the other bastard was boiling inside).

Which reminded him never to leave a task like that in Kelce’s hands again. The idiot had clearly failed.

But even that, Rafe could forgive—because that fucking victorious feeling he’d felt on the couch with you, that deeply satisfying sense of winning, fuck—seeing that bastard Lewis at the end of the night, sitting outside with a bunch of other losers by one of the hookahs, almost felt better than any punch to this bastard's face ever could have.

Shit, still Rafe would have loved to give that bastard a good beating. Wipe that smug, annoying grin right off for even thinking he could make a move on the girl Rafe had brought with him.

And as soon as Rafe so much as lifted his hand, that pussy backed off instantly (shit, in a way, Rafe actually had Ruthie to thank for that opportunity).

Because that was the thing with assholes like him: They’d try some shit with Rafe, push their luck, but the second he only threatened to beat the crap out of them, they’d back off and crawl back to whatever crowd of nobodies they came from.

It was all just about playing the game right.

But to Rafe’s deepest confusion... that feeling of victory was overshadowed by something else in this very moment.

A deep low settling in his body. The only thing buzzing in his mind—the one thought that somehow sobered him up—was the fact that he wouldn’t see your crazy-ass head for two whole days.

Why the fuck that bothered him? Who the fuck knew. At this point, it felt easier not to fight against these insane thoughts. Because somehow, just like you, they seemed to drive him crazy in all the right ways.

So maybe it was that bit of clarity the universe decided to reward—because when he spotted your forgotten bag sitting on top of a cabinet in the living room, it almost felt like fate.

But since Rafe didn’t believe in gods, fate, or any kind of hippie bullshit, the only explanation that made sense to him was that you’d left it there on purpose—for him to find and bring to you tomorrow.

And that thought alone sent such a rush through his chest that he even greeted backstabbing-ass Topper in the kitchen... with a grin.

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A/N: So I hope you guys enjoyed this part even though you may have expected something different. Maybe more drama and not Rafe and Reader actually solving some issues and getting closer but I felt like they deserved a moment of true sincerity (after 14 chapters lmao). Don’t worry, from here on, there’ll only be more tension hihihhi

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

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

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

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

[uncuredturkeybacon]

𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚙𝚊𝚕𝚜 || 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚐𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

in which paige finds herself a pen pal

paige was bored.

she would wake up, go to class, go to physical therapy, sleep and repeat. the same thing for the last three months since her surgery. her friends try to get her out her dorm to hang out but what she could do was very limited.

she was so bored out of her mind that she decided to go to the library. what business did paige bueckers have at the library?

the library was quieter than she thought. the steady hum of whispered conversations replaced by the soft rustling of pages and the occasional click of a keyboard. something about the peaceful atmosphere had drawn her in today. maybe it was the need to escape the noise of rehab, the constant pressure of expectations, or maybe it was just curiosity.

she wandered around, running her fingers along the spines of books she’d probably never read, until a small cork board by the front desk had caught her eye. a handwritten sign pinned to the board read:

“looking for a pen pal? leave a note and find a friend.”

below it, a collection of envelopes peaked out of a small wooden box labeled take one, leave one. paige hesitated, then smirked to herself. when was the last time she wrote an actual handwritten letter? she pulled out a blank sheet from the stack beside the box and jotted down a message.

hey stranger,

i’m not usually one for writing letters but i wanted to try something new. i guess i could use a distraction from everything going on around me. if you’re up for it, write me back. no pressure, but i promise i’m way cooler than i sound.

-p

she folded the letter and placed it in an envelope, dropping it into the box before heading out. she wasn’t expecting anything to come from it, but a small part of her was curious.

a week had passed before paige returned to the library. she had almost forgotten about the pen pal thing — rehab keeping her busy and hadn’t exactly been in the mood to write any more letters.

but when she glanced at the wooden box, her heart skipped a few beats.

there was an envelope.

a simple ‘p’ written in the front.

she snatched it up and tore it right then and there.

hey p,

i don’t know how cool you actually are but i’ll take your word for it. i like the idea of this—old school communication, no pressure, no expectations. so tell me, what’s got you looking for a distraction?

-y/n

paige grinned. this was already more interesting than she expected.

the letters became part of paige’s routine. every few days, she would go to the library, pick up a letter and find a private corner to read it, writing a reply after and leaving it in the box. 

you talked about everything.

paige opened up more. she told you about basketball, about the way it felt to be sidelined, the frustration of having to watch from the bench when she wanted nothing more than to out there on the court with her team. she didn’t tell many people how hard it was mentally, but with you, it felt easy.

you, in return, told her about your world—your love for writing, the way you could get lost in a book for hours, the struggle of balancing school and life. you told her about the places you wanted to travel to, the way you dream of seeing the world beyond the campus.

she learned little details about you—the way you can’t start your morning without a coffee and a book, the fact that you hated the sound of metal scraping against plates. you told her that you loved the rain as long as you didn’t have to be in it, how you always wrote in blue ink instead of black because it felt too formal.

paige found herself smiling whenever she read your letters, scribbling down responses before writing out a proper reply. 

she thought about asking to meet, but there was something about the mystery of it all, the anonymity, that made it special. there was also no doubt in her mind that you knew who she was now, but she still didn’t know who you were. she was curious of course, but she was patient.

so she let it be.

for now.

one night, paige sat in her dorm room mc staring at a blank sheet of paper.

her rehab was nearly complete. after months of grueling physical therapyc she was finally cleared to play. her first game back was in a week and the thought both excited and terrified her.

she had come back from injuries before. but this? this was different. this was her acl. the very thing that had taken her away from the game she loved for forever.

she sighed, running a hand through her hair before finally pressing pen to paper.

y/n,

my first game back is this friday. it’s been a long time coming, i don’t know if you’d want to, but i would love to have you there. i want to finally meet the girl who’s got me to become a regular at the library

-p

she folded the letter, sealed it in an envelope and taped it on a mailer. she dropped it off at the library the next morning.

now all she could do is wait.

the arena was packed. the energy was electric, the kind that made the hairs on paige’s arms stand up. this was a highly anticipated game, the return of paige bueckers. she had spent months dreaming of this moment—stepping back into the court, feeling the ball in her hands, hearing the roar of the crowd.

but as she jogged for warm-ups, her eyes kept glancing towards the crowd. eyes scanning for something else.

for someone else.

she didn’t know how you looked, but she felt that if she saw you, she would know it was you.

she didn’t see you.

she played the game she knew and love, like she hadn’t been away for a year, putting on a stellar performance.

uconn had beat the other team, adrenaline was still high. she looks out towards the crowd, a wide smile on her face, hoping to see you.

but no luck.

she just about gives up and walks towards the locker room when she sees someone.

you were standing near the tunnel, slightly out of place, holding a small envelope in your hands. you were wearing a jersey. her jersey that she had gifted you.

paige’s heart did something weird—like a little flip in her chest. she didn’t even think. she ran over, pulling up short in front of you, slightly breathless.

“is it you?” she asked in a breathy tone, like she couldn’t believe you were in front of her.

“it’s me.” you gave her a shy smile, intimidated under her gaze.

“and you’re wearing the jersey i got you.” paige beamed at the sight.

“of course i am.”

“you’re so beautiful.” 

“oh, thank you.” paige froze, not realizing she said that out loud, heat crawling up her neck.

“uhm, anyway. i know this is the first time we’ve ever met, but we’ve grown so close the past couple of months and i hope i don’t ruin that by asking you this…” you can tell she was nervous, it was cute. “would you allow me to take you on a date?”

your face showed a surprised expression, not expecting that to be the question. paige started doubting herself when you didn’t answer right away but…

“i’d love to.”

paige smiled widely, pulling you into an embrace. she was glad to have went to the library that day because if she didn’t, she wouldn’t have met you.

[chleem]

Casual /extra II

One shot; college students drew x reader

Warning: explicit language + scenes (read at own caution)

⋆.˚ official one shot | more

♡⸝⸝ "fucked you in the bathroom, when we went to dinner"

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Where you going?”

You ask, as Drew stands up. The warmth of his hands caressing your thighs is gone, now running through his hair. “Bathroom,” he mumbles, barely meeting your eyes. He walks off, without another glance back at the table. 

His sour mood is evident, by not only you, but all of your friends. 

To be fair, he didn’t even want to come tonight. He pleaded desperately for you to stay in with him, offering things to you that was ridiculous. Such as, doing your laundry for a month (he doesn’t even do his own). 

But you haven’t hung out with all your friends in a long time, and you missed them. So, tonight was non-negotiable with Drew. 

And he gave up with trying to reason with you, hence, why he decided to join you here, at the nice restaurant. He didn’t even make an effort to engage nicely with them, chuckling under his breath at random times and answering questions with short answers. Whenever you were talking, he would purposely distract you by touching you under the table, making it awkward for you and your friends. 

Drew knows your friends don’t like him; that’s why he’s sour. That’s also why he shows up to these hangouts, just to rub it in their faces. 

“Why did you invite him?” Lucy groans, after Drew was out of eye sight. Your five other friends of this group nod too, all letting out groans of frustration. “Hello, earth to y/n, we. Don’t. Like. Him.”

“He insisted on joining,” you shrug, forcing a smile. 

“Um, you could’ve insisted on him not joining,” Janet, another friend adds on. 

Your friend group was filled with weird people with different opinions, but one thing they’ve collectively agreed on was: they hate Drew. ‘Hate’ is a strong word, but that was the only way to describe their feelings towards Drew. 

They’ve expressed it a lot of times, so it’s become numb to you. 

“Are you guys finally together though?” Gary asks, sitting beside you. 

Oh. Every time they see you, they ask this question. 

“Of course not,” Lucy answers for you, sending you a cocky grin. One you always disliked, because it made you feel small. “Classmates, huh?”

“A really bad label,” Stacy adds on. Yeah, as if you didn’t already know. 

Great. Now it’s just your whole friend group judging you for being with Drew. Again. The last thing you needed from them.

“I visited his parents,” you aggressively say, stabbing into your food. Hopefully that will convince them Drew is a better person that what they think, right?

Wrong. They all ‘tsk’ in a disappointed manner, shaking their heads. “And…still classmates?”

“Well, he said I was his best friend,” you stuff the food in your mouth, “To his family.”

“He probably had to,” Josh speaks up this time, “and wow, is that the first time he called you his friend?” 

You don’t miss the sarcasm in his voice, and you send him a glare. He raises his hands in defense, the table laughs. 

You don’t find the humor in this situation. Why were they so judgmental towards the relationship with Drew? It’s not like he’s the biggest jackass ever. You’ve seen every side there is to Drew, they just don’t know him like you do. “Can you guys cut it off?” You say, not trying to hide the annoyance in your voice. 

“We’re just joking,” Janet laughs, glancing around, “besides, we’re worried for you.”

You chew and swallow the food in your mouth, sending her an unappreciative smile, “‘worried’ for me?”

“Yes, he’s obviously not… well, in love with you,” Janet continues, “we don’t want you with someone who clearly doesn’t care for you.”

“He cares for me,” you defend, furrowing your eyebrows at them. You look around the table, seeing your friends glance down at their food, afraid to meet your eyes. “He cares for me.”

“Sure he does,” Stacy bitterly agrees with you. That tone pisses you off. “Maybe privately, he does, but what about in public? Starting off with the most basic, labels.”

You hate how right your friends are. As rude and mean they’re being, deep down, you know they’re right. The ‘no attachments’ thing is bullshit, especially when nothing about the two of you is casual. 

Five, no close to six months, nothing about that is causal. 

“That…doesn’t matter,” you murmur. Wrong; it mattered a lot, to everyone and to you. You just hated to admit you weren’t as chill or casual as Drew was, how he made everything romantic seem friendly with you. 

When you look around, everyone is now staring at you pitifully. 

You didn’t like that. That pity stare. There’s nothing to be pity of. Bunch of people around the world right now might be having situation-ships too. Nothing to pity. Nothing to be ashamed of. 

Yeah. That’s what you keep brainwashing yourself to believe. 

‘The girl that he bangs on his couch’. Yeah. Nothing to be ashamed of. 

Your phone on the table lights up, and it reads bathroom. now. 

Drew. “Um, excuse me,” you stand up, excusing yourself to the bathroom. 

As you slowly get up and walk away, your friends weren’t very careful with the volume of their voice. You hear one of them calling you a loser, still hanging around just for a good dick to suck. 

That must be Janet. Her lonely ass must be jealous. 

But part of you knew she wasn’t wrong. You were a loser. The biggest loser to exist. The loser of losers, if that even is a thing. 

Casual. Your friends succeeded once again, in making you doubt everything with Drew. 

——

“Really boring, right?”

Drew pulls you in by the waist, a lazy smile on his lips as he stares down at you. He leans against the sink, making you stand between his legs. 

This restaurant had two bathrooms, each with their own sink inside. So, Drew took full advantage of that. 

“Hmm,” you hum carelessly. You didn’t want agree with him; you tried to make this evening nice, but his attitude towards your friends just weren’t helping. You keep your gaze around the collar of his jacket, not wanting to meet his eyes. 

“Something wrong?” He asks, playfulness still hinted in his words. His hand rub circles around your waist, as he tries to make eye contact with you, bending his head down to your level. 

You advert your gaze even more, now focusing on the bracelet around his wrist. Now that you think about it, he always has this on, since the day you got it for him. 

Was that casual to do? To keep the bracelet on at all times. 

“Look at me, would you?” Drew’s tone turns serious, and he pinches the side of your waist harshly.

You flinch, finally looking up at him. You meet his blue eyes, a mix of concern and something else that you can’t read. His raised eyebrows tell you that he wants you to talk, to tell him what’s on your mind. 

Should you? But, where do you even start? With his attitude tonight, or with your friend’s comments? Or with this whole casual thing, which is basically the beginning to it all.

Your lips pout on its own, resting your hands around his wrist. “That was uncalled for,” you murmur, looking down at his bracelet again. 

“What was?” Drew’s pinch one your waist is more soft this time, wanting to get the words out of you. 

“Doing that,” you say, playing with his chained bracelet. Shit. You’re gonna say it. You’re gonna call him out for his behavior. “Being rude to my friends.”

A scoff escapes Drew. He then brings his hand up to your face, forcing you to look up at him. Like second nature, you lean your face into the palm of his hand, waiting for him to explain himself. “Babe, your friends were the rude ones.”

The feeling inside your stomach is indescribable. The nickname sends you butterflies, but the words that follow don't. 

“How?” You ask, crossing your arms.  

He licks his lips, squinting his eyes at you. “It was so fucking obvious.”

“Was it?” 

“Yes- yes, it was,” Drew straightens his posture, taking his hands off you. The warmth of him is gone, now with the presence of a man trying to explain his reasonable case of being bratty. “They asked loaded questions to me this whole night.”

You furrow your eyebrows, thinking hard to the stuff they asked Drew. Shit. They were. Your friends didn’t even trying to hide their discontent with him tonight. 

“They hate me,” he adds on, “C’mon, I leave the table for like, a few minutes, and they talked shit, right?”

The way he looks at you; he challenges you to disagree with him. But you couldn’t; he was right. Your friends hate him, making you constantly doubt whatever this was with Drew. 

“Wasn’t all shit,” you lie, sending him the smallest smile ever. 

Drew makes the ‘tsk’ sound, shaking his head as he gives you a tired smile. “What they say then?” He asks, leaning back against the sink again. 

His eyes look at you in anticipation, biting down on his lips. 

You do not want to tell him what they said. It was rude, and although it was about Drew, it affected you more than it should have. The seeds of doubt are always planted by your friends, they never put you at ease with this relationship. 

You give him a lazy smile, snaking your arms around his neck. You lean in close to him, a seductive look in your eyes. “Does it matter? They talk shit, all they ever do.”

Drew’s lips slightly part, and he glances quickly down at your lips. A smile appears, “I see what you’re doing. You’re distracting me.”

You shrug lightly, before planting a small kiss on his jaw. “Is it working?”

You hear a chuckle escape from him, and his hand wraps around the back of your head. His eyes keep bouncing between your lips and eyes, smiling from ear-to-ear, “annoyingly so, you minx.”

Without another comment, Drew kisses you, soft and slow. 

You return the kiss, escalating into a whole make-out session. 

You hate how your body reacts to him; feeling a pool of wetness form between your legs. Fuck. 

Something pokes against your lower stomach, and you pull away from Drew. You glance down; he’s erected. “Shit,” you curse, as his hands slide down your body. He squeezes your ass, burying his face into your neck as he breathes the skin there. 

“I…I can’t go back to the table like this,” he murmurs, referring to his erection. 

You watch as his back rises and falls, through the sink mirror. Even with this thick white jacket he has on, you can tell his breathing has sped up. Your lips form a straight line, running your hands through his short hair. 

In the bathroom? Right in the middle of dinner? It was highly inappropriate. 

Wrapping your hands around his face, you pull him up to meet his eyes. He looks at you pleadingly, lips parted with drool on the corner of his lips. 

Fuck. How is one suppose to say no to that look? He looked as if he physically needed you; needed you to calm the… ‘growing’ in his pants. 

“Ten minutes,” you tell him, which immediately lights the spark in his eyes. He looks like a puppy! You smile at that thought, as he straightens himself, switching your positions. 

“Ten minutes? Enough for two rounds,” he teases, lifting you to sit on the sink. 

“No! One round,” you say, which gets cut off by Drew kissing you again. As much fun as two rounds sound, the longer you linger in here, the more obvious it is that the two of you are fucking. 

He groans into your mouth, spreading your legs to stand between them. His hands move fast into your dress, slipping your underwear off. The cold surface of the sink hits your thighs and pussy, adding to the heat growing within you. 

Drew trails his kisses down your neck, as your hands work on undoing his belt. 

You moan when he sucks on the sweet-spot around your neck, the belt dropping onto the floor with a hard thud. “Drew…” you moan out, messy hands tugging his hair as he continues to form hickeys around your neck. 

You want to run your hands around his stomach, chest, abs. But the jacket he has on prevents that, being zipped up the whole way. This jacket looked great on him, but would look better on the floor. 

Your hands fidget with the zipper, tugging with no luck of it moving. 

Drew pulls away from your neck, a chuckle escaping, “babe, gently.”

His hands overlaps yours, guiding you to pull the jacket zipper down. It reveals that he isn’t wearing anything inside; a feast to your eyes. “Is that why you refused to take this off?” You ask, referring to before the dinner started.

“I was invited last minute,” he shrugs the jacket off, as if it wasn’t his fault for the improvised outfit. 

“Right, but you weren’t invited,” you remind him, when he insisted on joining you when you were leaving, throwing on a random outfit nearby. You were busy putting your heels on, so you couldn’t see the moment when he got dressed. You didn’t even know he owned a jacket like this. 

“Mmhm,” his mind was elsewhere, attaching his lips to yours again. Sloppy and more lustful this time, as your hands wander around his body. It’s hot under your touch; his abs flexing as you run your hands over them. 

His hand grips onto your thigh, before moving closer to your heat. 

When the warmth of his fingers hit your pussy, you moan loudly into his mouth. 

“Shit,” he chuckles, “we’re in public, babe.”

The tip of your ears heat up too, from the embarrassment and realization that you’re in public, most likely having people hear you from the other side of the door. “Sorry,” you murmur, burying your face into his neck. 

Drew sticks two fingers into your hole, and starts thrusting at a faster speed than usual. Your breathing becomes uneven, as you try to tone down your moans. 

Drew wasn’t having it easy either, as you hear low grunts escaping him. “Fuck,” he curses, adding another digit, “you’re tight tonight.”

“Just fuck me already,” you manage to say, hands gripping on his biceps. Surely, this was enough foreplay, right? 

He chuckles again, this time at your impatience. He pulls his fingers out of you, his hands going to the back pocket of his jeans. 

The familiar gold packaging comes out, and his hands skillfully rip them open. 

“…couldn’t put on a shirt but bought a condom with you?” Laughter escapes you, as you watch him unzip his pants. 

He glances up at you, and when he sees you smiling ear-to-ear, he can’t help but match you, “wasn’t gonna show up totally unprepared, right?”

You laugh again; what an unbelievable guy. “Shirt’s optional but condom a must. Got it.”

Drew lets his pants and boxers hang around his knees, his cock standing proud. The sight immediately wipes the smile off your lips, gulping as you imagine it stuffed inside you. 

“The chances of fucking you wherever and whenever is high,” Drew says, wrapping the condom around his dick. 

He looks up at you, seeing your gaze fixed on his hard cock. A smirk helps themselves to his lips, as his hands tug on your waist. An idea flashes in his mind as he looks over your shoulder, at the big sink mirror. 

“Get off,” his voice brings you back, looking at him with confused eyes now. “C’mon, trust me.”

You let him bring you back onto the ground, before flipping you over. You see both your reflections in the mirror, your back hitting his chest, his dick poking your upper ass. 

When you meet his eyes through the mirror, you understand where this was going. 

“Watch yourself while I destroy your fucking pussy, hmm?”

Oh. Oh. Was it possible to be turned on by words? 

Drew lifts up your dress, revealing your wet core. You hold onto the sink for support, grip getting tighter when you feel Drew’s tip against your entrance. 

Then, he slips in, going deep until it’s completely nestled inside you. 

“Fuck,” you moan, glancing up at Drew. He sends you a smirk, enjoying this too. His hand goes to your stomach, and he lifts you backward, resting against his chest again. 

“Grip my hair, and keep your eyes open, alright?” His voice drops low, one hand moving to knead your breasts. 

You nod, bringing your hands behind you; one tugging gently around his hair, another around his arm that’s supporting you. 

He starts to thrust into you, rather roughly and fast. “Shit,” you moan, the sensation sending you to outer space. With his thick cock slamming into you, his hands roaming your body, your hands running through his short hair, it feels euphoric. 

Your eyes can barely stay open, as you look at the reflection in the mirror. Drew leaves a trail of sloppy kisses along your shoulder, which sends goosebumps to your skin. 

You watch as one of his hand slips between your thighs, starting to massage your pussy. “Fuck,” you moan, louder than you should be. You couldn’t help it, the pleasure was extraordinary. 

He kisses your earlobe, “i’know baby, but keep it down, alright?”

“Y-yeah,” it barely comes out, as the thrusts and massages to your core intensifies. The familiar knot in your stomach forms, informing you that you’re close. “Drew…”

His pace doesn’t stop, and when you lean your head back on his shoulder, he goes harder, “close?”

You nod with any energy left, and Drew uses his free hand to lift your face up again. He kisses your cheek, “use your words.”

You flutter your eyes open, looking at the two of you in the mirror. It was extremely hot, to see Drew filling you up, his hands all around you. The mirror starts to fog up a little, with all the grunting and pressure filling in here. 

“I’m coming,” you force out, and meet Drew’s gaze in the mirror. His blue eyes meet yours, seething with lust. 

You clench around him, your hand going around Drew’s, which is massaging your pussy. He stops massaging, and he intertwines your hands together. The stickiness doesn’t bother you; why should it?

“Fuck,” he groans, his thrusts to your g-spot growing sloppy. 

You tilt your head sideways, and you give him a quick kiss, which sends you over the edge. Your orgasm explodes inside of you, cum dripping out and over Drew’s cock. 

Body giving up, you lean completely against Drew, as he helps himself to his. His cock twitches, and you feel the familiar hot liquid filling up. 

Both of you are breathing heavily, euphoria radiating off your bodies. Fuck. This might just be one of the best fucks you’ve had with Drew. But in a public restroom? Who would’ve thought. 

“You’re so hot,” he compliments, before planting a small kiss on the side of your face. 

You giggle at that stupid comment, looking at him through the mirror; He’s got a playful smile on his lips, looking at you with smitten eyes. “You’re great with your words.”

He chuckles, his hands tapping against the side of your waist, signaling you to move. You use the energy left inside of you, helping him slip out. Leaning against the sink, you watch as Drew grabs tissues to wipe your core, then throwing his condom away. 

After that, he grabs your underwear on the floor. You get yourself dressed, him doing the same thing. 

“Look, only…only seven minutes passed,” Drew comments with a sly smile on his lips, showing you his watch. 

You roll your eyes, your lips betraying you by forming a smile. “Cocky much?” 

He puts his jacket back on, the last piece of clothing. “Well, you've definitely enjoyed the taste of it.”

You hit his chest playfully, his remark sending butterflies to your stomach. He laughs, zipping his jacket only halfway. Your eyebrows furrow at his exposed chest that pierces through the top; and you reach for the zipper. 

Drew stays in place, and you feel his gaze on the top of your head, his hot breath hitting you. You ignore the tension that pulls; when you’re done, you pat his chest, “all done, buddy.”

“‘Buddy’?” There’s a hint of amusement in his tone, eyes squinting down at you. 

You send him a soft smile, seeing him glance down at your lips. “What?”

“Call me buddy one more time,” his hands wrap around your waist, and he leans closer to you, “and you’ll get it.”

His dirty and challenging tone sends shivers down your spine, something you find yourself liking a bit too much. The pit of your stomach yells at you at how hypocritical Drew was being right now, but you ignore it. 

And just because it’s fun, you lean into his ear, and whisper, “best buddy ever.”

Tickles are sent to the side of your body, making you jump and melt into his arms. You laugh uncontrollably; Drew knew you were ticklish, using it to his full advantage. 

“Stop! Stop!” You yell between laughter, your legs ready to give up. 

“Don’t call me that then,” he stops tickling you, grip on you tight to make sure you don’t fall. He kisses the tears of laughter from the corner of your eyes, “I don’t like it.”

“Noted,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his neck. You glance down at his lips, and he does the same to yours. 

Drew gives you the look; he wants to kiss you. 

And you let him, closing your eyes and feeling his lips against yours. 

Is it still casual if you kissed me like it’s the last time you ever will? You hate how this thought appears in your mind again, haunting you. 

You pull away, the pressure of it getting overwhelming. “Let’s head back, yeah?”

“We have to?” His eyes stay glued to your lips. “You know, We could…we could just leave.”

You furrow your eyebrows at him, “no!”

“Say you got plans tomorrow morning,” he shrugs, “I’ll say it for you, if you can’t-”

You cross your arms, looking up at him. “Why would I leave early?”

Drew parts his lips, and he brings his hand up to your elbow. He rubs the area there in soft circles, a playful look in his eyes, “…grab some froyo?”

You drop your arms, looking at him disappointedly. When he saw that, he hurriedly adds, “and I got errands to run. Really.”

You contemplate in your mind about this; ditching this dinner to hang out privately with Drew? Yeah, that sounded like something fun. It must be better than staying awkwardly, having your friends judge Drew. 

Casual. Casual, casual, casual. Some casual froyo with Drew, and maybe ending up with sex in his dorm room. 

Yeah. Seemed like things people whose ‘casual’ would do. 

“Fine. You’re treating me though,” you unlock the door, walking out the bathroom. 

“I always treat you,” you hear him murmur behind you, following closely behind as you two walk back to the table. 

You interrupt the conversation they’re having, grabbing your purse from your seat. They look at your questionably, before their gaze lands sourly on Drew behind you. “i’ve got something, tomorrow morning, so we’re heading off,” you try sounding apologetic, “sorry to leave this early.”

“Oh, um, okay,” Lucy glances between the two of you, “text us when you get home.”

“Yeah, sorry,” you apologize again, before your friends wave goodbye to you. You don’t miss the hateful looks they leave on Drew, as they tell you to take care until the next time you guys meet. 

After that, you and Drew leave the restaurant, letting the doorman do his job of getting a taxi. 

A warmth around your hand catches you by surprise; Drew holds your hand, pulling you closer to him. You look down at the holding of hands; then back up at him. He’s staring down at his phone, scrolling through his insta feed. 

Holding hands. Something very casual to do, apparently. 

“What are you watching?” You ask, leaning on his shoulder. 

He laughs, showing you the screen. It’s a video of a monkey pointing towards the glass, which has different play-doughs lined along it. 

You don’t get the humor in it, but you smile, because it makes Drew smile. 

The two of you stand there, watching different posts on his phone until the taxi arrives. 

Your mind finds it strange how ‘casual’ you two are. 

Because, in the bottom of your heart, you weren’t so sure if this was casual anymore. Along the way, the lines of ‘no attachment’ seemed to have blurred. Blurred to the point of no return. 

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word count: 4.1k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: goddamn, i would fall for this toxic relationship too T_T

sry for not posting lately, i got very busy lately! i promise you, flashing lights 6 & not a big deal pt4 is coming sooooon. but hope you enjoyed this extra, and also, thx for blowing up the halloween special, was NOT expecting that. thank you sm! your lovely comments inspire me to write these fics!

btw, watched obx s4, and the ending broke me T_T like tffff

elevator | other | more of casual!drew