#sorry if you know Marvel and I over-explained | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

artficlly · 2 months ago

Text

read between the lines [one-shot]

college marvel au frat!jock!bucky x cheerleader!reader tutoring bucky barnes was already distracting enough, but leaving your diary in his room? that is a whole new problem.

Warnings: fluff, so much fluff, tutoring, first kiss, college au, vague panic from reader, idk it's just kinda fun and cute :), no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: hi this was for a request! so so cute, i wrote this so fast i didn't even think i would have it ready to post so quickly. idk anything about cheerleading or how college works in america, so forgive me. inspired by that willow song! sorry for any typos - not proof read.

main masterlist

I’ve been tutoring Bucky.

Well, James, technically. But he goes by Bucky. Says it’s a childhood nickname and it just stuck, and honestly? That’s kind of adorable. Like, who clings to a nickname that hard? Even the professors call him that, which should be cringe, but somehow it’s not? It just suits him. I literally don’t think I could call him James even if I tried. ‘Bucky’ feels right. It sounds warm. Familiar. Stupidly charming.

Ugh. Anyway.

He’s in one of those frats I usually stay far away from. The kind that smells like cheap beer and Axe body spray. Always yelling, always playing music way too loud, always shirtless for no reason. I swore I’d never waste my time on a guy like that. I really thought he was gonna be a cocky, arrogant douche when I first got assigned to tutor him.

But he’s not. Like… at all?

He’s actually really nice. Like, unfairly nice. That casual kind of nice that makes you forget you’re supposed to be annoyed. He remembers stuff I say. Not the big stuff, the tiny stuff. Like how I chew my pen when I’m stressed, or how I like lemon Gatorade for cheerleading practice. And yesterday he brought me those sour gummy worms I mentioned ONE time. Just handed them over all casual like, ‘Thought you might want a little sugar after practice.’ Who does that?? Like… stop. That’s not fair.

But of course, he’s like that with everyone. That’s the worst part. He’s charming in this totally effortless way. Looks at you like you’re the most interesting person alive and then turns around and does the exact same thing to someone else. How am I supposed to know what’s real?

And GOD. He’s hot. Like, it’s actually rude. He laughs and it does something to me. Like full-on makes my brain stop working. And his ARMS?? Every time he pushes his sleeves up to his elbows I lose one year off my life. For real. It’s like he’s doing it on purpose. (I mean, he’s not, but like… what if he is???) Sometimes I forget what I’m even explaining because he’s just sitting there smiling at me with those eyes and that stupid little smirk and suddenly I’m thinking about kissing him instead of confidence intervals. It’s not okay.

He’s on the football team. Scholarship guy. Big deal. Girls are obsessed with him. I’ve literally heard people talk about him in the locker room like he’s a celebrity. And me? I’m just… I don’t know. I’m me. I cheer and I study and I try not to let my GPA fall apart and I pretend I’m not crushing on someone completely out of my league.

So no. I’m not gonna say anything.

Because maybe I did catch him looking at me the other day when I tied my hair up. Maybe he does stay a little longer when we’re done. Maybe he leans in a little closer than necessary. But maybe I’m imagining it. Maybe I want it too bad and I’m just reading into everything. I don’t want to be that girl. I don’t want to get hurt.

So I’m gonna do what I’m supposed to do. Help him pass stats. Smile when he brings me candy. Laugh at his dumb jokes. Pretend like my heart doesn’t skip a beat every time he says my name.

I’m just going to help him pass stats. That’s all this is. Right? God, I’m so dumb.

—

You were fucked. Well and truly screwed.

You couldn’t even focus during practice. Missed counts, off-beat claps, a completely botched dismount that nearly took you and the poor girl spotting you both out in one go. Natasha pulled you aside with that look—the one that said she was two seconds away from losing it—and muttered something about getting your shit together because the big game was in a week and this wasn’t the time to be spacing out.

But how were you supposed to focus? Your diary was missing.

Your actual, physical, spiral-bound diary filled with every unfiltered thought you’d been too scared to say out loud. The same one where you’d spent the last four pages gushing about Bucky freaking Barnes like some sad, delusional teenage cliché. You didn’t even want to think about what you wrote last night, something about his arms and the way he smiles and how you swore he looked at you differently when you tied your hair up. It was humiliating.

You never should’ve taken it out of your room. You knew it was a bad idea. But Yelena had been on one of her ‘I’m bored and nosy’ benders, and the last time you left anything out, she’d read your old poetry journal and quoted it back to you at breakfast. You weren’t about to risk that again. So, like a total idiot, you shoved your diary in your bag before heading to class, thinking you’d keep it safe with you.

The entire day had been chaos. You barely managed to scarf down lunch between lectures, and by the time your 3 p.m. class let out, you were already sprinting across campus to make it to Bucky’s place for tutoring. Not that you actually got much tutoring done. You never did, not when he looked at you with that stupid, easy grin, or leaned back in his chair like he owned the air around him. One second you were going over statistical formulas, and the next you were talking about childhood pets and favourite movies, laughing like you hadn’t just been drowning in assignments ten minutes earlier. Time always slipped away around him. You ended up bolting to cheer practice.

It wasn’t until hours later, back in your dorm with your bag dumped upside down on the floor, that you realised your diary was missing. Your diary.

You’d spent a solid hour panicking, then a full thirty minutes rummaging through the lost and found at the campus security office, practically elbow-deep in a box of mismatched gloves and cracked phone cases. The guy behind the desk eventually looked up from his screen, where he was rather obviously playing solitaire, and told you with the energy of someone who very much did not care that maybe it hadn’t been handed in.

You wanted to scream.

Now your most personal, most mortifying thoughts were just out there. Floating around. God only knew where or with who. And sure, maybe whoever found it wouldn’t read it. Maybe they’d be a decent human being and just turn it in without flipping through. But let’s be honest, if you found a diary with someone’s deepest secrets in it, you’d probably peek too.

You were going to be sick. Actually sick. And not because Natasha had you running suicides again like she was training you for the NFL, but because your life might genuinely be over. Because if he found it? What if you left it in his room? What if Bucky read even one word of what you wrote?

You didn’t even want to finish that thought.

No, you literally couldn’t even finish that thought because, as Natasha finally called for the end of the session and the team began their warm-down stretches, swapping tired smiles and gulping down water, you saw him.

Bucky.

Standing at the edge of the field in that stupid grey hoodie, sleeves pushed up, all smug and handsome like he hadn’t just shown up to ruin your entire existence. He had that lazy, charming smile on his face, the one that made people trust him too fast, the one that made you trust him too fast, and in his hand?

Glittery blue cover. Spiral binding. Your diary.

You were going to throw up. No, genuinely, you could feel your stomach lurch. This was it. This was how you died. Not in a blaze of glory or during a botched basket toss, but here, sweaty, humiliated, and on the verge of a nervous breakdown in the middle of the goddamn football field.

You didn’t even think. You just stormed over before anyone else could notice, grabbing his arm and dragging him behind the bleachers like it was a crime scene. Which it kind of was. A crime against your dignity.

Bucky didn’t protest. He followed easily, letting you pull him along like it was some sort of game. Of course he did. And of course, he was smiling the whole time, like you hadn’t just gone into cardiac arrest ten feet away.

Your heart was pounding so hard you could barely speak. It rattled in your chest like a warning, like it knew this moment was about to go down in your personal hall of shame.

“Where…how…why do you have that?” you hissed, snatching at the diary, but he held it just out of reach, still annoyingly calm.

He raised a brow, like you’d just asked him what two plus two was. “You left it at my place. After tutoring. You were in a rush, remember?”

No. No, no, no, no, no. Of course, it had been his place. Of course.

“I—I didn’t mean to, I wasn’t thinking, I just—” You were spiralling, words tumbling out too fast, too breathless, and your fingers were twitching like you might just snatch the book and sprint across campus. “Did you…Did you read it?”

A beat. He didn’t answer right away. Just looked at you.

And then, God, he smiled. Not the cocky one, not the football-star grin. This one was softer. Slower. Dangerous.

Your stomach dropped.

“I read enough,” he said.

You froze.

Your ears rang. Your mouth went dry. Your body just stopped.

“Enough?” you echoed, voice cracking halfway through. “Enough of what? Enough to—oh my God.”

You turned away instinctively, hand over your mouth like that could somehow keep your soul from escaping your body. Because what did that mean? What was ‘enough?’ Enough to ruin your life? Enough to laugh about it with his frat brothers? Enough to tell every girl on campus that the cheerleader who couldn’t even stick a full-out had a crush on him?

You didn’t even realise you were pacing until Bucky gently caught your wrist.

“Hey. Relax,” he said, and his voice was way too steady for someone holding the social equivalent of a loaded weapon.

You yanked your arm back like his touch burned. “Relax? Bucky, that was private. It’s literally a diary! It’s not for reading, it's for… spiralling in silence!”

He tilted his head a little, watching you carefully, and if he was offended by your panic, he didn’t show it. “You left it on my bed. Open.”

You groaned and covered your face with both hands. “Please. Just kill me. Right here. Hide the body under the bleachers. I’m serious.”

Bucky chuckled—chuckled, like this was some kind of joke—and stepped closer. You could feel his presence even before you lowered your hands again.

“Why didn’t you just say something?” he asked, quiet now. “If you felt that way.”

Your eyes snapped to his. “Because I didn’t know if it meant anything! You’re nice to everyone. You flirt like it’s a reflex. You remember everyone’s drink orders, compliment their outfits, hold doors and say all the right things. I thought I was just another person you were… nice to.”

He didn’t answer your panicked rambling right away. Just looked at you for a long moment.

“Yeah, I’m nice to people. Doesn’t mean I feel the same way I feel about you.”

Your heart dropped straight into your stomach.

“What?” you whispered, hating how small your voice sounded.

He held your gaze, completely serious now.

“Like I wanna kiss you every time you chew that damn pen cap. Like, I think about you even when I’m supposed to be studying. Like I can’t focus when you’re talking ‘cause all I do is stare at your damn lips.” He paused, and something almost like a laugh broke out of him, soft and self-conscious. “Like I’ve been trying to find a not-creepy way to tell you I like you since the second tutoring started, but you were always so focused and cool and out of my league.”

That last part made your head spin.

“Out of your league?” you repeated, eyes wide.

He smirked, stepping just a bit closer, lowering his voice. “Have you seen yourself? You’re smart, you’re so pretty it’s ridiculous, and you’ve got this whole thing where you act like you don’t know you’re the coolest girl on campus. Of course, I was nervous.”

You blinked at him. “Bucky… are you flirting with me behind the bleachers while holding my diary hostage?”

He grinned. “Maybe. Depends. Is it working?”

You tried to snatch the diary out of his hand, but he was faster, effortlessly holding it just out of reach like it weighed nothing.

“God, I hate you,” you muttered through gritted teeth, bouncing up on your toes in a desperate attempt to grab it. All it earned you was the embarrassing realisation that you were now fully pressed against his chest, warm, broad, and stupidly solid.

“You really don’t, at least not according to this—” he said, low and smug.

“Bucky!” you warned, trying to reach again, but he shifted it higher.

“Give. It. Back,” you hissed, practically climbing him at this point.

“I will,” he said, eyes flicking down to your mouth in a way that made your stomach twist and your breath catch. “But only if you let me kiss you first.”

Your brain short-circuited. Completely and entirely. The words took a second to process. His voice had dropped, softer now, more serious, like he wasn’t just messing with you anymore.

You looked up at him, heart thudding so loudly against your ribs you swore he could hear it. His eyes searched yours, and for once, he didn’t look like the effortlessly confident guy everyone knew. He looked… nervous like he was the one waiting to be rejected.

“…Fine,” you whispered, the word barely making it past your lips, but your smile gave you away. It was impossible to hide, giddy and crooked and ridiculous.

And then he kissed you.

He bent his head and closed the gap like he’d been waiting weeks for it—maybe he had. His mouth was warm and sure against yours, one arm still holding the diary hostage, the other dropping to your waist, pulling you in like he couldn’t help himself. You kissed him back without thinking, without doubting, like maybe this was the answer you’d been afraid to ask for all along.

When you finally broke apart, breathless and blinking at each other like idiots, he handed over the diary with a grin.

“Okay,” you whispered, still a little breathless. “That was… good.”

“Just good?” He smirked.

You rolled your eyes, cheeks burning. “Don’t push it.”

He laughed softly, thumb still brushing your cheek. “So… does this mean I get to keep seeing you after stats is over? Or do I have to fail on purpose to keep you around?”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“You’re right. You’d probably kill me.”

“More like definitely.”

There was a beat of silence, the kind that didn’t feel awkward. He looked at you like he already knew what you were thinking. And for once, you didn’t feel like running from it.

You were so, so screwed.

But maybe… in the best way possible.

#bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #winter soldier #marvel fic #marvel au #marvel

1K notes · View notes

wwinterwitch · 2 months ago

Text

safe haven – bucky barnes

summary: bucky goes back to you after the void incident pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader word count: 3.7k tags: thunderbolts* spoilers!, vague void experience on purpose (for the full x reader experience), sam is back and he's pissed, fluff and fluff and more fluff (love is in the air people!), comfort, kissing, things get heated at the end but no actual smut is included (i think i'll make another part exclusively for the smut lovers, so the people that don't read smut can still enjoy this part)

please reblog and/or comment in you enjoy!

all masterlists | marvel masterlist | previous part

You gasp, snapping back to reality after...whatever the fuck just happened, trying to catch your breath in hopes of easing your headache and slow your heart rate. The broom you were using to clean up your apartment lays on the floor next to you, everything looking the exact same as it was when you left.

It cannot possibly be another Thanos situation, right? That time it felt like you just blinked, but now it feels like you've been gone for long tortuous hours. That time your roommate almost had a heart attack when you knocked on the door of your shared apartment because she thought she’d never see you again. And you certainly don't remember anything about experiencing the blip. Now...now you wish you could forget what you saw back there.

You were forced to experience the most traumatizing memories playing in a loop over and over again until all you could do is sit in a corner and cry as you beg for the images to go away. A horrifying display of the darkest moments of your life. The times you felt more unhappy and hopeless. And every time you thought you’d managed to escape, you’d just end up in yet another memory.

But somehow you're back in your apartment now. Everything looks the exact same and it seems like no time has passed.

Still, even when it seemingly feels like you're safe, you can't help but feel uneasy. The thought of what you saw is still very much present in the back of your mind, replaying over and over again, taking over your senses and clouding your judgement.

What if this is just another trick and you’re about to experience another horrible memory? You look around your apartment, too afraid to move, expecting to see something that confirms that you’re still stuck in this never-ending nightmare. That you’ll have to stay in this place for the rest of your life.

The unexpected buzzing of your phone makes you jump, snapping you back to reality as you frantically search for it. Quickly spotting it on top of your dinner table, you keep wondering what the hell is happening as you read Sam's name on your screen.

“WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN? I'VE BEEN TEXTING YOU LIKE CRAZY,” you hear him shout on the other line as soon as you picked up, sounding incredibly agitated.

“I'm sorry, I...I don't exactly know what happened,” you mutter, staring outside the window in hopes of seeing something out there that might give you any clues of what is going on. To your surprise, you can see a few ambulances speeding past your street and you can spot a large cloud of smoke in the distance.

Bucky and the others are most likely involved in that commotion. You can only hope that they’re okay, still having no updates. You can’t really tell how much time has passed since they left, so you can’t know for sure when Bucky is going to show up.

“The entirety of New York just went black,” he explains. “It just looked like darkness.”

“What?” you ask in disbelief. “I don't remember anything about it. I was just cleaning up my apartment and then somehow I was in...I don't even know what it was. It was like purgatory or something.”

“What do you mean?”

You sigh, not really wanting to go into too much detail about the stuff you had to witness. Honestly, you wish you could just forget it. “It was like being tortured, Sam. I don't know what it was, just that it was awful. I was cleaning my apartment and that's pretty much the last thing I remember before waking up in that place.”

There's a brief silence and for a second you thought perhaps the call was disconnected, but you suddenly hear Sam's voice again. “Oh, you have to be fucking kidding me!”

“What happened?” you say, evidently confused.

“Put on the news,” he sighs, muttering something else under his breath you can't quite hear correctly. “I gotta go, but I'll talk to you later, okay?” he says in a ruther rushed voice, sounding both pissed and worried. “Take care.”

“Sure. Bye, Sam.”

You hang up the phone as you sit on your couch, TV remote in your hand as you search for any news broadcast that's on. As soon as you find one, you stare at it in disbelief. There, in the middle of a street, is Valentina giving some bullshit speech you don't really care to pay attention to, and behind her stands the entire group of people that were in your apartment just seconds (or minutes? Hours?) ago, joined by a blonde guy you have never seen before.

They look exhausted and visibly confused to be in front of so many cameras. Bucky and Yelena look particularly pissed. But what matters the most to you is that they're all alive.

The next thing that really catches your attention is the text on the banner beneath the image. 'Introducing the New Avengers'.

What the hell is really going on right now?

The broadcast finally ended, and it doesn't take Bucky that long to arrive. All he wanted to do was to get away from Valentina and all the press that just kept taking pictures of him and the others. He barely even acknowledged the rest of the group, leaving as soon as possible. All he wants right now is to see you and make sure you're okay. He knows you're probably safe– of course you are, but he won't be calm until he's standing before you to make sure you really are unharmed.

He walks inside your apartment and immediately walks towards you, grabbing your face with both of his hands as soon as he's standing in front of you, frantically scanning your face for any sight of hurt or discomfort. It's almost as if you were the one out there fighting.

“Are you okay?” he asks, slightly out of breath, still not letting you go.

“Yes, I'm okay,” you reply with a reassuring smile, and he immediately pulls you in for a hug. “How are you?”

“Uh...as good as I can be.”

His arms are still tightly wrapped around you, not wanting to let you go any time soon. Yes, he’s holding onto you because it’s a huge relief to confirm that you’re safe, but it also brings him an enormous amount of comfort, which is what he was craving ever since he stepped foot into the void.

“What kind of answer is that?”

“I don't know. It's been a lot. I was so worried about you.”

“I was so worried about you!”

He pulls away just enough, and you almost want to roll your eyes at the playful smirk on his face. “Don't try to make this a competition.”

“I won't make it a competition because I would obviously win,” you reply, exasperated. “I wasn't the one who was out there fighting...what was the guy's name again?”

“Sentry.” There’s a brief pause, his expression hardening considerably. “Were you there too?”

You get even more exasperated because you still don't understand shit. “Where?”

“The void.”

Realization hits you right there. The entirety of New York being consumed by darkness as Sam explained over the phone, the horrible things you had to see...of course a place like that would have such a fitting name. It felt exactly like it. You just felt empty and alone.

“So that's what it was. And the entire city was experiencing the same thing?” you ask, still in complete disbelief at the idea of one person having that much power. It certainly is a terrifying and dangerous ability to have.

Then, after a quick pause, you realize Bucky had to experience that too, immediately hating the idea of him having to endure that. "Were you...?"

Bucky notices the shift in your expression, offering you a weak smile. “Yeah, we were all there.”

You don't know what to say at first. If you thought you had a hard time in there, you can't even begin to imagine the horrors Bucky was forced to watch over and over again. It breaks your heart to think about it. Even when he has made a lot of progress when it comes to healing from his past and learning to forgive himself, it doesn't mean the pain and guilt are not there.

“I'm so sorry,” is all you can say, feeling completely useless at that moment. Sorry doesn't make it better in any way.

“It's okay. It's not like this is the first time I've been there.”

His last statement absolutely crushes you. If you could find a way to take all of that burden off his shoulders, you'll do it in a heartbeat. Still feeling completely useless, you decide to pull him in for another hug, because at least that’s doing a little more than just saying you’re sorry.

“I wish I could do more to make you feel better,” you whisper, feeling his fingers gently running through your hair in an affectionate manner, kissing the top of your head.

“Being here with you is more than enough,” he whispers back. “You are more than enough."

“Oh, please don't make me cry now,” you warm him with a soft giggle, feeling like a few tears might actually come out any second now.

The sound of Bucky's laugh makes you feel just a hundred times better about the entire situation involving that stupid void, loving to hear it under such circumstances. It's impossible not to feel overwhelmed right now. That place really left you feeling like an emotional mess.

You move back from the hug just enough and Bucky takes that as his opportunity to pull you in for a kiss. The type of kiss that makes your knees weak and leaves your mind completely blank. A kiss you see in a movie with fireworks adorning the night sky, right before the end credits roll. One that feels like he's been dying to give you a kiss since he closed the door of your apartment before New York was consumed by darkness.

A kiss that shows you he really does mean it when he says you are more than enough.

“I'm really happy you're okay,” he mutters right after the kiss, resting his forehead against yours, eyes still closed.

I love you. That's all you can think of in this moment, and it takes everything in you not to say it out loud because how fucking insane would that be? To not even be an official couple and already say such a thing? Perhaps it wouldn't be so crazy given you've been best friends for so many years (and you've had a crush on him for most of them), but still. It's just too soon. Too weird. Too intense.

The fucking void really did numbers on you. Just get it together, please!

“I'm happy you're okay too,” is what you say instead, which sounds appropriate. And not weird. And not intense at all.

You offer to make him a snack after all that happened, forcing him to take a seat when he said he could do it himself. As you prepared a few sandwiches, he tried to explain as much as possible about everything that's been going on.

“So Bob doesn't remember anything?” you ask once he's done, just as you're handing him a plate with two grilled cheese sandwiches.

“Apparently,” he replies, right before leaning over the counter to give you a quick kiss as a way of thanking you for the food.

“Well, that's probably for the best, right? I mean if the Sentry part returns, it's only a matter of time until the Void part wants to have a bit of fun again too.”

He practically devours one of the sandwiches, looking like he hasn't eaten in centuries. “Probably,” he says nonchalantly, clearly more focused on eating. It's impossible to blame him for it, especially considering everything he's been through today.

You can't help but smile at the image of him eating the sandwiches like he's been deprived of food his entire life. So much so that he can barely hold a conversation.

I love you. It's like you just couldn't hold yourself back from wanting to blurt those three little words once again. Like it's physically impossible to hold them in. It doesn’t matter if he’s saying cute things to you or if he’s eating like a caveman. You love both sides of him.

But you can't say it. You can't be weird.

Instead, you try a much more appropriate approach once again. “You're so cute,” you say with a smile, moving closer to run a hand through his hair affectionately. Then, you suddenly remember something that you two haven't discussed yet, and your 'I'm-so-down-bad' smile turns into a 'just-thought-of-the-best-joke-ever' smirk. “Might as well start calling you the cutest Avenger, huh?”

He turns to look at you with a soft grin on his face, immediately shaking his head. “Please, tell me you didn't see that.”

“Oh, but of course I did!” You take a seat next to him on your kitchen counter, getting more comfortable to continue teasing him. “The news called you ‘The New Avengers’. Who would’ve thought!”

“It was all Valentina's plan to save her ass.”

“So you guys are not going to accept the title?”

“We are, but we still need to have a few meetings to set some rules if we plan on working together…and boundaries.”

“Oh, don’t act like you’re so irritated by the idea! I can tell you’re starting to feel more comfortable around them.”

He’s completely silent for a few seconds, knowing he can’t lie without you noticing. “Okay. They might be growing on me.”

“Awwh,” you reply, but not with the intention of making fun of him. “I thought they were very nice. And I'm glad you're making new friends.”

“You're never gonna stop teasing me about any of these, aren't you?”

“Well...yeah, but I actually mean it when I say I like seeing you meeting new people,” you reply, changing your tone and demeanor to let him know you're serious. “And yes, I'll tease you about the whole Avengers thing, but that doesn't mean I'm not excited to witness this new chapter in your life.”

You begin gently caressing his arm as you offer him a sincere smile. “You deserve it. You deserve to be recognized for your kind heart and your willingness to help others,” you continue. “I'm so proud of how far you've come. And I'm sure Steve is proud of you too.”

The mention of his childhood friend brings a melancholy to his expression that is both sad and beautiful to see. It shows he still deeply misses him, but has learned to think of him without breaking down. It's the type of expression you have when you've finally found peace with the fact that someone you love is not around anymore...not entirely around, at least. He'll always carry a part of Steve Rogers with him.

"Thank you," he says, genuinely meaning it.

I love you. Those three words threaten to make their way into your conversation again, but this time it's not you the one fighting back the urge to say them.

But It's just a little too soon, right? Last thing he wants is to make things awkward between the two of you. So he decides not to say anything, just like you have decided twice already.

You smile, standing up from your seat. “Finish eating, okay? I have to clean the mess the New Avengers left in my living room earlier.”

“Yeah, you'll have to get used to that, unfortunately.”

“Like I haven't had to deal with that before,” you joke, hinting back at all the times you had people like Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton randomly showing up at your place.

Bucky stays in your kitchen while you finish brooming until you’re sure the floor of your living room is impeccable, familiarity slowly setting in after everything that happened today. You could faintly hear Bucky having a phone call with someone, but you couldn't quite make the words out over the music you had playing on your own phone to make the cleaning much more entertaining.

You go back to your kitchen to throw away the dirt and dust you collected from the living room, just in time to see Bucky standing up to wash the dish he used, sandwiches long gone.

“I just got a call from Sam,” Bucky says as soon as he notices you, his tone letting you know it wasn't exactly a pleasant conversation.

“What did he want?”

“For us to immediately backtrack and not go through with the whole Avengers thing.”

“Yeah, he called me just as it was airing and he didn't sound too happy about it. What are you going to do?”

Bucky sighs, exhaustion visible in his demeanor. “I'll talk to him later. I don't think anyone in the team feels like backtracking right now. Most of them looked pretty excited actually.” You can't help but smile, which makes him let out a soft chuckle. “What?”

“You said 'the team'. I just thought it was cute,” you shrug, crossing your arms across your chest. “I should invite them for a pizza night or something. Get to know them a little better. And meet this Bob guy too.”

“You'll invite John?” he asks, half-joking.

“Please don't call him John,” you immediately reply, squinting your nose in disgust. “I'll have to warm up to him...very slowly. I still feel like punching him in the face when I see him.”

“That's fair,” he agrees with you, perfectly understanding where your discomfort with John Walker's presence comes from. Perhaps that might explain some of the reasons as to why Sam seems so against the idea of this team being a thing.

You notice Bucky walks towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Even when the possible pizza night sounds exciting, I kind of just want to think about the two of us spending time together alone,” he says, grinning mischievously.

A shiver runs down your spine when you feel his fingers near your neck, gently pulling the fabric of your hoodie to the side, exposing more of your collarbone. He places a few kisses there. Slow and careful.

“Perhaps I can stay here with you for a few more days?” he suggests, right before leaving another kiss on your skin, using his other hand that’s firmly placed on your lower back to bring your body closer to his.

“Of course you can stay,” you reply in a soft voice, trying not to let it show just how much his actions are affecting you.

He practically hums against your skin. “Do you want me to stay?” he whispers, definitely making you shiver now that his metal fingers are tracing lazy patterns on your skin, underneath your hoodie. What a teasing piece of shit.

It’s almost impossible to speak now. “Yes.”

His fingers trail further up your spine, but not that much higher. Just enough to allow you to feel his touch in a slightly different place, making you crave for more. A silent reminder that he can just move his fingers wherever he pleases, but he deliberately chooses not to grant you that pleasure.

“Then say it properly.”

It’s not a suggestion or a plea. It’s straight up an instruction. And he sounds like he’s absolutely certain that you’ll do exactly as he says.

And you do. “I want you to stay here with me.”

The kisses on your neck continue and it feels like a reward, so you just stand there and enjoy it, allowing him to worship your skin with his lips until you're practically trapped between his body and the counter.

You can feel your cheeks burning red, the warmth spreading to the rest of your body with each kiss. “Don't you want to take a shower?” you try being a voice of reason, your brain just doing whatever it can to help you feel less nervous.

“Why? You're thinking about joining me?” he whispers against your skin, which immediately makes you regret ever opening your mouth because what the fuck is wrong with him and how does he dare to say something like that?

Okay. To justify your growing nerves, you've technically never been fully intimate with Bucky yet. You've been pretty close because a girl can only hold back for so long, but the two of you have been mainly focusing on your emotional connection and that one is just so mind-blowingly special that there hasn't been a need to immediately jump to the physical aspects of your relationship.

But oh, is he tasting your limits right now...

“How you even have the energy right now is beyond me,” you comment again. You're not against the idea of something happening, but your nervous brain gets the best of you so you find yourself blurting out random things yet again.

Finally, Bucky moves away just enough, a playful smile adorning his lips. “I'll always have the energy for you,” he replies, and the implication behind his words has you blushing even harder.

You immediately hide your face in his chest while he wraps his arms around you, laughing at your reaction. “I hate you,” you mutter.

“No, you don't.”

That's true. You really don't hate him at all. It's actually quite the opposite, but you can already picture him walking out the front door if he hears you say how you truly feel about him. The thought of daring to confess you love him is a thousand times more terrifying than the idea of having sex with him for the first time.

You look up, smiling up at him when he kisses your forehead. “No, I don't.”

“Glad to see you're agreeing with me for once in your life,” he comments playfully.

“Don't push it,” you warn him, making him laugh once again.

“How about I take a shower like you suggested and then we take a nap together,” he suggests casually, still keeping his arms around you. “I think we can both use a little sleep.”

“Yeah, a nap sounds good.”

“Wow, two in a row! What has gotten into you?” he jokes yet again, trying to get you to stay in his arms when you start to push him away after that little comment, but he doesn't put up that much resistance, so you're eventually getting away from him.

“You're insufferable,” you comment in an obviously fake tone of annoyance, right before leaving the kitchen to head towards your bedroom.

“And you're beautiful,” he replies with a genuine smile, following after you.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #mcu x reader

2K notes · View notes

wonderjanga · 4 months ago

Text

Billy Actually Telling The Truth

Billy rarely lies about his civilian identity. I mean, he wouldn’t really need to, considering no one would think a child was the hero known as Captain Marvel.

A good example of this was when the Green Lanterns invited him to go bowling with them.

John Stewart: “You’re late, man.”

Marvel: “Sorry, guys, I just got evicted from my apartment.”

Hal Jordan: *gasps* “Real.”

Kyle Rayner: “Why?? What happened?”

Hal: “Were you off-world or something? That happened to me a couple times before I just decided to put all my stuff in the watchtower.”

Marvel: “No, I just couldn’t afford it.”

*silence*

Hal: “Realllllll.”

John Stewart: “Hal, shut up.”

Then there was when Billy got his job as a radio show host.

Marvel: *cooking like five hundred million things just cause*

Flash: “Hey, man.” *looks at the food* “What’s all this for?”

Marvel: “I got a job!”

Flash: “Oh, cool ma-”

Marvel: “A real job!”

Flash: “Well, that’s awesome. That doesn’t explain what all this is for though.”

Marvel: “I know, right! I get 50 cents an hour! And it’s for anyone really. I’m just happy-cooking. It’s the opposite of stress baking.”

Flash: *trying to sneak some food, pauses cause he just registered the first sentence* “What.”

Marvel: “What?”

Batman: *also pauses whatever he’s doing, slowly looks over* “Captain.”

Marvel: “Yes?”

Batman: “May I go with you to your workplace? Out of costume.”

Marvel: “Uh… I don’t know about that. Why?”

Batman: “Because last I checked, the states have a minimum wage of under 50 cents.”

Marvel: “What do you mean? It’s good money?”

*silence*

Flash: *already loading up a plate of food for himself* “Cap, can I have some of this?”

Marvel: “Sure! Have as much as you’d like!”

Or when Billy graduated—

Flash: “What’s got you in a happier mood than normal?”

Marvel: “I just graduated!”

Flash: “Graduated…? What do you mean, you graduated? You look older than me??”

—Graduated eighth grade.

Or when Batman eventually found out about the eviction from eavesdropping. He approached Marvel while the man was in one of the rec rooms coloring.

Batman: “Captain, I would like to discuss something distressing I heard from the Green Lanterns. I overheard them saying you were evicted from your apartment?”

Marvel: “Huh? Oh, yeah. Back out on the streets.”

Batman: “I see- I’m sorry? Back out?”

#billy batson #shazam #dc captain marvel #captain marvel dc #fawcett city #fawcett #fawcett comics

1K notes · View notes

sunarryn · 3 months ago

Text

DP X Marvel #17

One week. One fucking week. That’s how long it took before the universe’s reality collapsed in on itself like a toddler knocking over a block tower made of cosmic rules, and Danny Fenton—sorry, High King Phantom of the Infinite Realms, Keeper of Balance, Ghost King of All Dimensions, Supreme Bureaucratic Overlord of Death and Souls, or whatever other bullshit title Clockwork slapped on him—was done. He was so done. With everything. With life. With afterlife. With bureaucracy. With math. Goddamn, he hated math.

He phased through the ceiling of what was left of the Avengers compound without so much as a knock because, frankly, he didn’t care anymore. People were dead. Everyone was dead. Half a fucking universe. And universes are fucking infinite. Literally. He’d been counting. Or trying to. But the math broke somewhere around “nine trillion decillion” and his brain short-circuited.

Inside, the Avengers were scattered around like bad leftovers. Steve was slouched in a chair like someone told him America lost the war. Thor was cradling a bottle like it was the last warmth in the world. Natasha looked like she hadn’t blinked in hours. Banner was trying to fix a coffee machine that had already given up on life. Tony—oh, Tony—Tony looked like he’d been held together with duct tape and sarcasm, and not the good kind.

“Yo,” Danny said, arms folded, crown floating behind him, cape swishing dramatically like it had beef with gravity. “Which one of you assholes thought wiping out half an entire goddamn universe was a great idea?”

They blinked. Steve slowly got to his feet. “Uh… who—?”

“No. Shut up. Don’t talk. I’m not in the mood. I haven’t slept in a week. Time doesn’t even exist in the Infinite Realms, and I somehow managed to be late to ten meetings that haven’t happened yet. Do you know what kind of eldritch administrative nightmare I’m dealing with? Do you?”

Tony blinked. “Not really, no.”

Danny whipped around to face him, pointing a glowing finger. “I don’t care, Stark. I don’t care that your kid sidekick is dead. I don’t care that half your team is sad. I don’t care that your billionaire ass is depressed and growing a sad beard like you’re auditioning for ‘Survivor: Superhero Edition’. I have literal oceans of paperwork made out of the screams of the damned piling up in my inbox because some purple California Raisin thought committing universal homicide was a vibe.”

“Hold on,” Natasha said, standing now, brows furrowed. “Who even are you?”

“I’m the janitor,” Danny deadpanned. “Of death. And you—you are all on my shit list.”

Steve opened his mouth.

“NO. I said no talking. Do you know how many souls half a universe is? Do you? BECAUSE I DON’T. THAT NUMBER DOESN’T EXIST. That’s not even math anymore, that’s heresy. There are species no one even knows about! I had to learn seven extinct galactic dialects in five minutes just to sign their death certificates!”

“Wait—wait,” Bruce said, cautiously stepping in like someone trying to defuse a bomb made of feelings. “You’re… the King of the Afterlife?”

“Infinite Realms,” Danny corrected. “Afterlife implies one dimension. I’ve got infinite. One of them is just an endless IKEA. You think you’re in hell? Try getting lost in that one for eternity.”

Tony blinked. “That explains the floating crown.”

“Oh, you noticed?” Danny snapped, sarcasm thick. “Yeah, the crown’s real subtle. You know what else I’m wearing? These.”

He held up his fingers. On them gleamed the actual Infinity Stones. Not the ones Thanos used. No, these were the OG versions—before the universe dumbed them down for mortal brains.

“I’m wearing multiversal cosmic artifacts as fucking accessories, Stark. I clapped death back into submission on my way here. I threatened Time itself with a lawsuit. I am so tired.”

Everyone was staring now. Thor slowly lowered his bottle.

“I have one question,” Thor said, eyes narrowing. “Can you bring them back?”

Danny didn’t respond immediately. He paced, muttering under his breath about soul processing queues and spectral overflow reports and ghost union strikes.

Then he turned, threw up his hands, and shouted, “Fine! Fine! But only because if I see one more Ectoplasmic Reconciliation Form I’m going to scream my own name and rip reality in half!”

Tony raised a cautious hand. “Just to clarify… you’re not doing this out of the goodness of your heart?”

Danny glared at him. “I am doing this because your collective idiocy has backed up the Infinite Realms so badly, I have ancient god-beasts getting angry Yelp reviews for not guiding souls fast enough.”

Bruce choked. “You get… Yelp reviews?”

“Do not ask. Do not google ‘Spiritual Bureaucracy Yelp.’ You’re not ready. It’s worse than you can even imagine.”

He clapped his hands. The power reverberated like a sonic boom made of lightning and bass drops. Light cracked through the floor, time folded, and space rewrote itself. In an instant, everything was back. People. Planets. Souls. Loved ones. Unsnapped. Safely. No one reappeared in traffic or mid-air. They were all fine.

Everyone stared.

Tony gasped. “…Peter?”

Somewhere in the compound, Peter Parker screamed, “MR. STARK I THINK I DIED?!”

Danny muttered, “Yeah, well, get in line, kid.”

Tony looked like he might cry. Steve looked like he might cry. Even Thor blinked back tears.

Danny didn’t give them a second to bask.

“Listen to me and listen hard, because I am only going to say this once. The next time you idiots let some glorified space grape get his hands on cosmic power and kill half the universe, I’m not bringing anyone back.”

Natasha stepped forward. “Wait—what—?”

“I said,” Danny growled, eyes glowing green and crown sparking violently, “the next time this happens, I am going to let the universe rot. I don’t care if it’s your kid, or your moms, or your emotional support dog. You will live with it. You will suffer. Because I’m not spending another week cleaning up your mess like the goddamn galactic janitor!”

Tony muttered, “Kinda thought you said you were the janitor.”

“I will kick your kneecaps off.”

Tony shut up.

Danny took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m going home. Do not call me again unless the universe is actually ending. And even then, it better be certified by at least three gods and signed in triplicate.”

He started floating upward, preparing to phase out, when Steve blurted, “Wait, thank you. Really.”

Danny paused mid-air, sighed, and turned around. “You’re welcome. I guess. But seriously. If another genocidal space maniac so much as coughs on the timeline, I’m filing a restraining order on this entire dimension. Bye.”

And with that, he vanished in a swirl of ectoplasmic smoke, leaving the Avengers staring at each other in the awkward silence that followed a divine ass-whooping.

Thor finally muttered, “I liked him.”

Tony sat down, blinked a few times, then said, “He just wore the Infinity Stones as rings. Like mood jewelry.”

Bruce nodded solemnly. “He’s not paid enough.”

“Was he even paid at all?” Steve asked.

And somewhere in the realms between life and death, Danny Phantom screamed into his pillow made of souls: “I AM NOT GETTING PAID FOR THIS BULLSHIT!!!”

#danny fenton #danny phantom #dp x marvel #danny phantom fanfiction #marvel #marvel mcu #mcu #mcu fandom #crossover #danny phantom fandom #mcu fanfiction #marvel fandom #marvel fanfic #infinite realms #ghost king danny #ghost king phantom #infinity stones #the infinity saga

971 notes · View notes

rafecameronssl4t · 1 year ago

Text

Pilates princess || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: you let Rafe come with you and your daughter to his first Pilates session 🙈

Warnings: pure fluff hehehe

Word count: 662

A/n: dad!Rafe melts my heart PLEASE SEND MORE DAD!RAFE REQUESTS PLS N TYY

MASTERLIST (dad!rafe au masterlist)

divider @yoonitos

“How come no one’s here?” Rafe asks, locking the car and scanning the empty car park with a puzzled expression. You chuckle, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “I always book out the studio so it’s just me and Mabel, and the instructor, of course,” you explain with a shrug.

Rafe nods in understanding, a small smile forming on his lips. At the mention of her name, Mabel babbles in Rafe’s arms, prompting both of you to chuckle. “See, Mabel knows where we are, don’t you, sweetie?” you coo, leaning in to tickle her gently as you approach the door to the Pilates studio.

The door swings open, and Stella beams at you both. “Hi!” she exclaims, her enthusiasm infectious. “Hi, Stella!” you reply warmly. “Hello, Mr. Cameron! Good to finally meet you,” Stella says, extending her hand towards Rafe. “Rafe is fine,” he chuckles, shaking her hand, as you giggle beside him.

“And hello, Mabel,” Stella coos, her eyes lighting up as your daughter grins in recognition. She gestures to Mabel, encouraging her to lean forward so she can carry her. Rafe hesitates, his protective instincts kicking in as he considers handing over his baby girl to someone he just met.

“Babe, it’s fine. Stella’s great with kids and she’ll take care of Mabel while we do our session,” you assure him, placing a comforting hand on his arm. He glances at you, then back at Stella, his concern slowly easing. “Sorry,” he says awkwardly as he carefully passes Mabel to Stella.

“Oh, don’t even worry about it,” Stella waves off his apology, lightly bouncing Mabel in her arms, making her giggle. “Shall we get started?” she suggests, her tone cheerful and inviting. You nod, taking Rafe’s hand and leading him to the reformer machines.

Around 15 minutes in, Rafe was already feeling the burn. He glanced over at you, noting your perfect posture as you effortlessly executed the moves. Meanwhile, he was struggling to keep up. “Rafe, try to hold that leg straight,” Stella gently corrected his posture, her tone encouraging yet firm, Mabel still in her arms as she watches her dad.

He groaned, adjusting his position as instructed. You turned your head slightly, giggling to yourself. “How do you do this shit every day?” Rafe shook his head in disbelief, his leg trembling with effort. “It takes practice,” you replied with a smile. “You’ll get the hang of it.”

Rafe attempted to mimic your form, his brow furrowed in concentration. Despite the difficulty, he couldn’t help but admire how graceful and strong you looked. “Remember to breathe,” Stella reminded him. “Inhale as you extend, exhale as you contract. Let’s do 5 more.”

Rafe tried to follow her instructions, but the movements felt anything but natural. “I don’t know how you make it look so easy,” he admitted, glancing at you. You flashed him an encouraging smile. “Just keep at it. You’ll be a pro in no time.”

About ten minutes later, Rafe decided he needed a “break.” He sat on the machine beside you, Mabel perched in his lap. The two of them watched and encouraged you as you continued your session. “Look at mommy go,” Rafe said, bouncing his leg gently. Mabel’s tiny hands were wrapped around his thumb as she gazed at you with wide eyes.

“Seriously, babe, how are you moving your body like that?” Rafe’s lips parted in awe as he watched you steadily execute a challenging move. “Like what?” you asked innocently, glancing back at them with a playful smile.

“I dunno know, you’re just so good at this. You’re not even sweating!” he marveled, lightly shaking his head at your impressive flexibility. You laughed softly, enjoying his reaction. “I think you forget I’ve been doing this since our days at kook academy,” you replied, effortlessly transitioning into the next move. “So like, 4 years ago?.”

Rafe watched you with a mix of admiration and disbelief, bouncing Mabel gently on his knee. “I don’t know, babe. You make it look so easy,” he chuckled, as Mabel’s tiny hands reached up to touch his face. You glanced over with a smile. “I’m almost done, baby,” you said gently to Mabel, who responded by clapping her hands, making everyone chuckle.

“Rafe, I’ll see you tomorrow?” Stella asks playfully as you all gather your things, preparing to leave the studio. Rafe’s face contorts into one of awkwardness. “Uhh, I think I’ll stick to the gym,” he chuckles, scratching the back of his neck.

You laugh, giving him a playful nudge. “Come on, it wasn’t that bad! You did great for your first time.” Rafe grins, shaking his head. “I’ll leave the Pilates to you and Mabel,” he adjusts Mabel in his arms before leaning in to kiss your cheek.

2K notes · View notes

7-deadly-cats · 1 month ago

Text

killing me softly | 17

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 & themes, hints at jjpope, jealousy and possessive rafe, tension and angst, FLUFF

✿ S U M M A R Y O F L A S T P A R T ✿ at bulk & bloom, rafe fought off suggestive thoughts while you two had some teasing back and forth. later at barry's pawn shop, he told you to stay in the car, but the silent treatment made him give in. inside, rafe got tense when he saw you and barry knew each other. it quickly became clear barry had the upper hand. while rafe was sent to the backroom, barry warned you not to trust him, which triggered a spiral: what if rafe only saw you as a dispensable toy? back in the car, rafe confronted you about barry threatening him, but your passive replies made things worse. frustrated, he eventually admitted he liked spending time with you and wasn’t trying to mess with your head but he still likes the idea of getting to bend you over. you explained how mixed signals make you anxious, and that you needed clarity to feel safe. after some back and forth, you both agreed this could be a friendship. when cara called, you asked rafe to drop you off. he hid his disappointment but offered to pick you up later, quietly worried that sarah might pull you away from him.

✿ W O R D C O U N T ✿ 10.6k+ (oopsie again)

✿ A / N ✿ whew. another super long-ass chapter. a lot is happening here, lots of jumping back and forth but i really wanted to squeeze it all in so i wouldn't need another "saturday" chapter. maybe this whole thing feels a little rushed (especially the very end, sorry for that) or floppy but i srsly wanted to finish it today so you guys wouldn't need to wait for another day but i guess it will have to do. anyway, I SCREAMED AND GIGGLED AT THE ENDING SO PLS LMK WHAT YOU GUYS THINK. enjoy <3

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

W E E K O N E // S A T U R D A Y 2 : 3 0 P M

You had literally just a few seconds between the moment Rafe dropped you off and the moment Cara immediately descended on you with Diggory and dragged you to the beach, where a group of energetic Pogues greeted you.

But in those few seconds? Your brain had already gone absolutely haywire and it was all Rafe, Rafe, Rafe, Rafe, Rafe.

Because holy fucking shit, today? Those not even three hours you'd spent with him? Jesus fucking Christ, that was—what—like, no seriously, what???

Just what. That summed it up pretty well.

Rafe, who'd shown up unannounced at your house to drop off your bag and had had lunch with your family. Rafe, who then willingly dragged you out to hang out (okay, under the pretense of sobering you up, but like, STILL). Rafe, who had almost gone for your throat in Barry’s pawn shop just for knowing Barry. Rafe, who'd actually tried to help pull you out of that goddamn spiral in your head. Rafe, who somehow had a shocking amount of patience for your absolutely deranged overthinking episode (seriously, you needed to tell Barry never to say shit like that again, even if he meant well).

FUCKING RAFE, who said he LIKED hanging out with you AND HOLY SHIT was down to sleep with you if you gave him the green light LIKE JESUS CHRIST I’M SORRY WHAT IS HAPPENING???

Just. Rafe.

Oh, and Rafe, who’d also offered to PICK YOU UP LATER LIKE GUYS WTF WHAT UNIVERSE ARE WE IN?! Because it sure as hell wasn’t the one you knew.

Some real life Marvel Multiverse Quantumjump shit must’ve gone down, because this? This day? THIS RIGHT HERE? RAFE!?!?!?!

Nope.

Just no. How? What?!?

This dude had turned your entire brain inside out with a single conversation like CAN WE JUMP BACK TO RAFE GENUINELY WANTING TO FUCK YOU LIKE HELLOOO??????

Like for real now. The fact that you’d even managed to finish that conversation? And without having a full-blown panic attack after what he'd admitted? Remarkable.

Because your brain hadn’t just short-circuit after that, it was shattered. LIKE YOUR FUCKING CRUSH BEING SEXUALLY ATTRACTED TO YOU I MEAN??

WHAT.

Nah, that hadn’t even been you in that conversation. No way. Your body must’ve switched to passive flight mode or autopilot or something because you, just a few days ago, would’ve freaked out so hard you'd have launched yourself into another dimension.

Oh. Hah. Funny. Apparently, you had.

Holy shit, seriously.

But again, you didn’t really get the chance to process any of that truly. No time to spiral, because one, your serotonin levels were sky-high just from how absurdly patient Rafe had been with you today—like, fuck, that alone had made you fall even harder for him.

And two, you’d barely managed to half-say goodbye to him when Cara was already there waiting with her terrier at the parking lot, pulling you into a hug with the biggest, smirkiest smile in the world.

And then she started absolutely blasting you with questions. First one being: “Did you make out?” followed by “What did you guys even do?”, “Why were you hanging out in the first place?”, and “How big is his dick?”

Uhm yeah, that didn’t exactly help your already overloaded brain.

You tried catching your breath after she let go of you with a, “Wait—did I just interrupt something between you two?”

You just shook your head with a smile. “Probably better that you called, otherwise I might’ve actually exploded.”

“Okay, now I seriously need to know what the fuck you two were up to,” she said, eyeing you like a dog begging for treats.

A tired chuckle escaped your lips. “I think we’ll need a separate meeting for that. Wouldn’t wanna keep your loverboy waiting.”

After a bit of back and forth with her saying “His ass can wait” and you insisting “Actually, I need the distraction,” she finally gave in and led you across the parking lot, over the dunes, to a shady little spot where probably the last people Rafe would want to see you with were waiting.

His sister and Pogues.

Well. Good thing you hadn’t been specific about who exactly you were meeting up with. And thank god he hadn’t asked. Otherwise, you probably would’ve had to listen to a whole speech about why you shouldn’t be hanging out with that kind of scum (let’s not forget, last week in Econ he'd said he’d rather shoot himself than hang out with a Pogue, so yeah, that said enough).

ANYWAY. Whew.

You had barely a millisecond to breathe before Cara threw you right into the next interaction.

“Tadaaa, everyone, meet Y/N,” Cara said with a dramatic hand flourish as you arrived at the shady spot.

With an awkward wave and a smiling “Hi,” you greeted the three girls lounging on towels under a sun umbrella, who all perked up with visible curiosity.

You recognized Kiara Carrera: She’d gone to Kildare Academy for a year, a grade below you, and also lived in the 8. Cleo Nash you vaguely remembered from bonfire parties. And of course, you knew Sarah, both from around and, well…from that little awkward encounter on Wednesday at Tannyhill.

All three of them eyed you curiously and with varying levels of friendliness. Sarah had that big warm smile she’d greeted you with the first time. Cleo looked like she could murder someone if she felt like it, but even her smile had something soft about it, like running your hand along the dull side of a blade.

Only Kiara seemed a little... you didn’t even know how to describe it. Not cold or distant, just... cautious.

“Hey,” Sarah said, patting the towel next to her. “Come sit down. Nice seeing you again.”

God, why did this feel so awkward? You were a year older than the three of them and yet, this was just... weirdly uncomfortable.

Still, you sat down cross-legged with an awkward, “Thanks, good to see you too,” as Cara plopped down beside you. And oh no, judging by the way all four of them were now staring at you…

You shot Cara a what-did-you-tell-them-about-me-and-Rafe look, and she just gave you an innocent little grin that said, Nothing, I swear.

In response, you shot her a telepathic I’m gonna kill you.

“I hope Rafe didn’t throw a fit when he dropped you off,” Sarah said with a smirk. “Actually, I’m kinda surprised he even let you come hang out with us.”

Kiara gave a wide-eyed Yep-nod.

Welp…

You chuckled awkwardly. “I kinda... didn’t tell him who'd be here.”

Sarah raised her brows, still smirking. “And he seriously didn’t kick you out?”

“No?” You blinked, an embarrassed smile tugging at your lips. “I mean... he even offered to pick me up later.”

Cara shrieked beside you (Kiara flinched with a “Shit”). “WHAT.”

Sarah chuckled. “Okay, now I’m even more surprised. He knows I hang out here all the time. Literally calls it the rat hole.”

Um…

“A lot of people hang out here,” Cleo said with a shrug.

Kiara scoffed. “It’s Rafe. Are we sure he’s not hiding behind some dune waiting to jump us?”

O-kay. What kind of picture did she have of him?

“More like he’s hiding to spy on the love of his life,” Cara said, and you immediately wanted to dig a hole in the sand and die inside it.

Cleo and Sarah chuckled. Only Kiara raised a brow, eyeing you in disbelief. “And you willingly hang out with him? Like, he’s not forcing you?”

“I... yeah, he’s...” you started, but honestly, what were you supposed to say? An idiot, an asshole, intense, a lot, a total dumbass. No, you said what you always said in situations like this. “Nice.”

Kiara blinked at you like you’d just announced World War Three. She curled her lips and furrowed her brows. “Are we talking about the same Rafe Cameron or...?”

“Kie,” Cleo muttered with an eye roll and a chuckle.

Kiara lifted her hands in mock innocence. “I’m just saying, ‘nice’ wouldn’t be my first choice of words to describe Rafe Cameron.” She raised her brows. “More like brazen or, I don’t know, ruthless. No offense, Sarah.”

“Nah, that sounds like my brother,” Sarah replied with a smile but then turned toward you again, eyes a little more curious now. “Okay, stupid question, but... have you two, y’know…?”

“God, Sarah,” Cleo groaned.

PLEASE.

Camerons clearly had a gene that made any situation instantly awkward.

With flushed cheeks, you shook your head and fidgeted with the strap of your bag in your lap. “Um... no.”

What did that even have to do with anything?

“Interesting,” was all Sarah said, a big grin on her face. “And you’re not, like, a witch or something?”

Literally what.

"Excuse me?" Cara raised her brows in mock offense and gestured at you with both hands. “Do you see that radiant aura? Of course he’s obsessed. No spell needed.”

“Okay, shouldn’t we be asking if he’s the one casting spells on her?” Kiara muttered, frowning. Then she turned to you directly. “I seriously can’t believe someone like you actually enjoys being around him.”

Somehow that was kind of offensive… but also weirdly sweet?

“Who’s hanging out with who?” A dripping, shirtless John B appeared by your little towel circle, surfboard tucked under his arm. A few steps behind him, JJ Maybank and Pope Heyward wandered up too, bumping shoulders and laughing about something.

Also: shirtless… and wet…

Jesus Christ.

“Y/N and Rafe,” Sarah said, glancing up at him with a sweet smile.

John B nodded with an Ahhhh expression like he already knew about it, like, ??? Then he looked at you with a smile and gave a casual wave. “Oh yeah, hey. And he’s not holding you at gunpoint for this?”

“Thank you,” Kiara said, pointing to John B.

“Wait, who’s holding who at gunpoint?” JJ dropped his surfboard in the sand next to you all and planted his hands on his hips. His gaze finally landed on you, eyebrows shooting up with a grin. “Wild day when two Kooks voluntarily show up in the Cut. What is this—the Purge?”

“Three, actually,” Cara said, giving him a cheeky look. “If you count Rafe.”

Now Pope was the one looking confused. “Rafe was here?”

“Not with us, dumbass,” Cleo said, then pointed at you. “With Y/N.”

Can someone just shoot me? Shotgun, sniper, I genuinely don’t care.

Pope turned to you, gave a slightly awkward smile and a little wave.

OMG A FELLOW SHY GUY.

You smiled back and gave him a small wave in return and wow, it didn’t even feel awkward. One fellow introvert was all it took to help you shake your own nervous energy.

“Yeah, we just haven’t figured out yet if Rafe put a spell on her or if it’s the other way around,” Kiara said. “My money’s on the first one.”

“Nah, I’m going with the second,” John B replied, with Cleo and Sarah nodding in agreement.

“How about he’s just smitten with her,” Cara said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

JJ squinted, tilting his head. “Mmm, not sure. Rafe’s nuts. Wouldn’t shock me if he’s doing some voodoo shit in his room.”

Okay, what was going on between Rafe and these people, like seriously?

Pope let out a scoff. “Don’t tell me you actually believe in witchcraft.”

“I believe in anything until I’m proven wrong,” JJ said with a shrug, gesturing to you. “And a nice girl willingly hanging out with Rafe?” He shook his head, lips curling. “That’s gotta be some supernatural stuff.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, amused. “Not sure about that.”

“Guys, it’s simple,” Cara said like she hadn’t just met these people three hours ago. “He’s just head over heels for her.”

OKAYYY, THAT’S ENOUGH.

You barely knew like 90% of the people here and this was not the first impression you wanted—hanging out with Rafe being your entire personality. You hadn’t even properly introduced yourself yet.

“Yeah, um… can we maybe just…” you said with a sheepish smile.

Kiara nodded. “Yes. Please.”

"I don’t know about you guys, but I could go for a snack," John B said, and everyone seemed to agree.

"Bob’s Iceshack?" JJ asked.

John B shut his eyes, lips escaping a delighted Mmmm. “You get me, bro.”

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

"So, why exactly did you want me to come here again?" you asked Cara, washing your hands in the restroom of Bob’s Iceshack.

After placing your orders at the beachside café, the others had already snagged a spot out on the wooden balcony, but you’d shot Cara a more-or-less telepathic signal (aka a gentle kick to the foot) that you needed a quick minute with her.

On the phone, she'd said she needed backup because of JJ but hadn’t said exactly why. And yeah, to be fair, Rafe was kind of right—what did Cara ever need backup for in a situation like that? Especially from you, of all people???

Especially when the sexual tension between her and JJ was practically leaking off the walls. All those two needed was a room and the rest would just... happen. Shit, they probably didn't even need that.

Cara furrowed her brows. "I’ve been thinking..."

Uh-oh. That could mean anything, from I’m becoming a nun to I’m buying a crocodile and starting a family of five. Today.

“Mmh-hmm,” you hummed, in that high-pitched danger incoming tone, pressing your lips together and raising your brows as you dried your hands.

Cara sighed. "Okay, JJ's cool. He’s really hot, funny, and also kinda got this soft side. Oh, and did I mention, he’s really hot."

You nodded. "Uh-huh, loud and clear."

"And like, I know I could end up in his bed tonight if I wanted to," she said, drying her hands too. "God, the things he could do to me... I’d let him explore every direction on the compass with me, like full-on—"

"Okay, too much information."

Cara wrinkled her nose. "But the thing is... I don’t know. Now that the opportunity is right there, like literally one move away..." She gave you a look like she’d just tasted something weird and couldn’t decide if she liked it. "...I kinda don’t want it anymore?"

Oh!

That’s...

Not surprising at all.

You let out an amused chuckle, which earned you a stunned look from Cara.

"What?" she asked, genuinely flabbergasted. "I’m serious. My whole body is screaming for this guy, but my head’s just like, ugh, I don’t know, it’s pulling in another direction." She widened her eyes. "I think I’m getting sick."

"Orrrr," you said with a big grin, "That other direction is called Topper Thornton."

Cara blinked.

You chuckled again. "I mean... it’s kinda obvious he likes you. And you like him too, judging by how close you two were last night."

"Trust me, I KNOW he likes me. I could see the little hearts in his eyes every time he looked at me," she said dryly. "But like... it’s Topper."

You laughed. "Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you almost hook up with him a few weeks ago before he chickened out? And weren’t you the one always preaching how sweet and nice he is?"

Cara’s face twisted into a dramatic frown. "Yeah, I mean, he really is sweet. We texted forever last night, but—"

"Define forever?"

"7 a.m."

Jesus Christ.

"Girl. Connect the dots."

Cara made a tortured face. "Ughhh, I don’t wanna."

"Think of it this way," you said, chuckling. "Baddie and simp duo."

Cara burst into laughter, a soft pink tinting her cheeks. "Great. Now I just want him for the trope."

You both started laughing.

"So what now? Do I spend one night in JJ’s Wonderland and then circle back to Topper?" Cara asked, raising her brows, real frustration in her voice.

You shrugged. "I dunno. I support you either way. Just trust your gut."

"Girl, my gut’s telling me to ditch all men and marry you instead."

You scoffed. "Would be the easiest route."

"The smartest one," Cara corrected, then gave you a playful smile. "But I wouldn’t want to snatch Rafe’s future wife right from under his nose."

You made a tsk sound. "Pretty sure he doesn’t see it that way."

"Oh, I’m sure he does. I can already hear the wedding bells," Cara replied, clasping her hands together like she was already planning the ceremony.

Jesus. If she was already talking like this, she was going to absolutely lose her mind when you told her about today.

But honestly, you hadn’t even processed it yourself: Rafe Cameron being down to hook up with you? Like... let’s be real, you were probably never going to be ready to process that. So, for now, you just shoved it into a deep, deep mental box.

So instead, you just said, "Okay, we should really get back before everyone thinks we both have parallel diarrhea."

Cara raised a brow. "Girl, have you seen us together? They’re way more likely to think we’re making out in here."

"Oh, speaking of," you said, grabbing your bag and glancing at her. "Am I crazy or are JJ and Pope giving—"

"Yep."

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

"Hey, why aren’t we tagged?" JJ asked, genuinely offended, holding up his phone screen.

Sarah chuckled. "Because the picture’s only of our drinks."

"Cold," Pope said, and John B nodded in agreement.

"Y’all need to chill your balls," Cara said while filling a little water bowl for Dig. "Everyone knows you’re just the accessories to these hot baddies. No need to tag you separately."

All the girls chuckled in amusement.

"Ouch," John B said with a suppressed smile, giving JJ a pat on the shoulder. "Come on, man, clearly we’re not wanted here."

Sarah laughed, and Kiara nodded along.

"Pope is," Cara noted. "He’s the only one of you who hasn’t made me lose brain cells with the stuff he says."

And fucking Pope smiled all flustered and awkward and honestly, it was like looking into a mirror. "Trying my best."

"Whoa, nope, thanks," JJ said, grabbing Pope by the shoulders and pretending to pull him away from your group, narrowing his eyes at Cara. "Careful, man. Those are Kook compliments. Blink once and she’s got her claws in you like some Fury."

"Sounds like your wildest fantasy," Cara shot back, sipping her Corona.

Yep. She had clearly chosen to enter JJ’s Wonderland tonight.

"Geez, get a room," Kiara said, eyeing them in fake disgust.

JJ scoffed with a crooked grin. "Meh, maybe later," he said, then guided Pope away from the table by his shoulders.

"Alright, you girls have fun," John B said with a smile, giving Sarah’s shoulder a soft squeeze and planting a quick kiss on her cheek before heading down the stairs toward the beach.

God, those two were actual relationship goals. Each of them alone was already Golden Retriever energy, but together? Just... pls adopt me.

Cara clearly felt the same way. "Can you two please get married already?"

Alright, second time within minutes that Cara had brought up marriage. Like, at this point it was painfully obvious that Topper had her thinking about some things.

Sarah chuckled. "You wanna be a bridesmaid?"

Okay, real talk—how long had they known each other now? Two, maybe four hours at most? How the fuck were we already at personal wedding invites?

Cara’s friendship game? Not to be underestimated.

"Fuck yeah," she said with a nod. "I’ll be the damn church bench if I have to."

You all laughed.

"Honestly," Cleo said with a smirk, sipping on her passionfruit lemonade, "every time I saw you and Y/N, I thought you were typical Kook princesses." She chuckled. "Cara’s got the whole shiny blonde hair, heels at a beach party vibe, and she looks like she’d throw hands with a bitch given the right reason."

"Hey, I don’t need a reason," Cara chimed in, smiling proudly.

Cleo nodded, grinning. "Yeah, thanks for proving my point." Then she looked over at you, her smile deepening. "And you? Shit, you’ve got that Death Star stare, like you know something about me I don’t, plus this whole don’t-talk-to-me energy."

You smiled awkwardly. "Yeah... more like my awkward stare and help-I-have-social-anxiety please-don’t-talk-to-me energy."

"Yeah, that’s more accurate," Cara said, raising her brows at Cleo. "So, what you’re saying is: We give off major baddie vibes."

Cleo shrugged, amused. "That and cool girl vibes."

"These Kook-Pogue stereotypes are bullshit anyway," Kiara chimed in, making a face. "Just like there are bitchy Kooks, there are bitchy Pogues. And just like there are hardworking Pogues, there are hardworking Kooks too."

You immediately thought of your parents and nodded. "Guess it’s always easier to judge than to meet somewhere in the middle."

"Whoa, okay, people," Cleo said, laughing. "I wasn’t trying to throw stereotypes around. I just meant, yeah, that judging people by looks or whatever is stupid when you don’t even know them."

Your phone buzzed in your bag. While still half-listening to the conversation, you took a quick glance at the notification.

And your heart dropped.

Is this guy actually crazy?

"...all the patriarchy’s fault and—wait, where are you going?" Cara stopped mid political rant, eyeing you as you slung your bag over your shoulder.

Feeling your cheeks heat up like you’d just been caught doing something you shouldn’t, you gave an awkward smile. "Oh, I, um... I’m just gonna grab a water. Be right back."

Judging by their expressions, they all knew what was really going on, but they just nodded, giggling and stifling their smiles.

"Tell Rafe I said hi!" Sarah called after you.

Fucking Camerons, man.

Heart thundering in your chest, you thanked Bob for the glass of water and let your phone plop back into your bag.

Okay, so… like, sure, you and Rafe had gotten to some kind of mutual understanding earlier—basically that you enjoyed each other’s company—but holy hell, the fact that he wanted to pick you up just an hour after dropping you off?

Right. Three possible reasons here:

He didn’t like that you were hanging out with Sarah and Pogues, considering his weird dynamic with his sister and the general class war in his head.

Rafe Cameron was actually clingy with people he liked. At least in private. You had skimmed some of his chat with Kelce, and they seemed really close. And honestly? Last night after your balcony talk, he’d stayed glued to your side until the very end. Like—shit—he probably would’ve followed you into the bathroom if you hadn’t giggled and told him to play bouncer instead.

Barry had been right and Rafe was possessive. Okay, no, not like in a throw-you-into-a-psychological-horror-movie way. Not like a dog with a chew toy either. More like... a kid who couldn’t stand seeing his mom give the baby sibling more attention. Ugh, okay, gross metaphor. You weren’t his mom. But your brain wasn’t coming up with anything better right now.

So yeah. Option one seemed the most realistic, but your gut told you there was probably some truth in the other two as well. Otherwise, your brain wouldn’t have gone there in the first place.

God, where was that positive thinking system you’d come up with on Thursday?

Okay, let’s try that:

Maybe he just really likes spending time with me and he’s excited about the idea of having a new friend, so he’s just a little too eager to hang out again.

Ha. Yeah. Sure.

YES, SURE. DUDE. HELLO??? He literally said he liked you, that he enjoyed being around you, and that he was open to some kind of friendship.

Seriously, how much clearer did your brain need it spelled out? (Also, why did you hear this in Rafe’s voice—help.)

ANYWAY. Time to head back.

“Damn, that must’ve been some really good water you got there, judging by that smile,” Cleo said with a smirk as you returned to the table.

Sarah giggled. “Also took you quite a while for just water.”

“Can’t blame her,” Cara added, grinning. “That water’s got some very visible attributes we clearly don’t.”

Kiara sighed, half exasperated, half amused. “We’re never gonna pass the Bechdel test.”

Your cheeks burned as you sat back down, cradling your glass. “Yeah, sooo... I’m heading out around seven-thirty.”

“You and the water got a date?” Cleo raised her brows with a smirk.

Cara went one further. “You and the water better use protection.”

Your brows knit in hot-faced disbelief as Cleo and Sarah burst out laughing.

Kiara just curled her lips. “Blink three times if you need help.”

Jesus Christ.

“I—no,” you said, laughing in embarrassment. “He’s just picking me up and then I don’t know, probably driving me home.”

Cara rolled her eyes. “Sweetie, we all know damn well that’s not what’s gonna happen.”

“And if it is,” Cleo added, “he can turn his ass right back around. Taking you from us just to drop you at home? Disrespect.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Kiara said dryly.

The way she always talked about him made you think there was some history there. Just... what kind?

“No,” Sarah said with a chuckle. “If that was his goal, he’d already be here. My brother doesn’t have the patience to wait for stuff like that.”

If you only knew.

“Okay, I appreciate you guys cheering this on—or well, not cheering, in Kiara’s case,” you added with a side-smile. “But honestly, this whole topic is frying my brain a little, so if we could shift the gears? That’d be amazing.”

Sarah smiled gently. “Sorry, we didn’t mean to push. It’s just, my brother never puts in effort with any girl. I mean, Wheezie’s kind of the exception, but other than that?” She shrugged. “He takes whatever falls into his lap. Anything more would be too much work. But with you? I don’t know.” She tilted her head, almost fascinated. “It’s like he’s chasing you. Even if he doesn’t realize it.”

“Duh.” Cara gestured toward you. “Have you seen her?”

Sarah chuckled. “Of course, Y/N’s gorgeous.” You could feel the heat crawl up your neck. “But I don’t think you guys realize how unusual it is for Rafe to spend time with a girl and not try to hook up with her. He’s never been into relationships. But now—"

“Oh—um, no. No.” You cut her off, laughing awkwardly and shaking your head like your life depended on it. “That’s not—like, no. This is more of a friendship thingy.”

They all looked at you. Deadpan.

Kiara was the first to speak, brows raised in disbelief. “Yeah, no, trust me. Rafe doesn’t do female friends.”

Sarah also shook her head, but before she could say anything, you raised your hands like you were waving off the whole convo. That tiny little sentence from Barry earlier had already sent you spiraling enough for one day. You didn’t need a rerun.

Especially not after you'd just talked things through with Rafe and nearly driven him to the brink of insanity.

“Please. Seriously, I appreciate your concern and support and everything, but I’m actually really okay with how things are right now,” you said with another nervous laugh. “I mean, I...who even says I’m interested in him like that?”

Another round of flat stares.

Yikes.

You eyed Cara, but she just raised her hands. “All I said was that Rafe dropped you off and you'd come to hang out with us.”

“A girl willingly sticking around to hang out with my brother?” Sarah said, feigning innocence. “I just put one and two together.”

“And girl, them numbers are loud,” Cleo added, clearly entertained.

Alright. If everyone already clocked that you had a crush on Rafe...how the hell had he not picked up on it yet?

Oh. Oh no. Or what if he had?

Jesus fucking Christ WHAT IF HE—

“Okay, I can literally see the gears turning in your head,” Cara said. "And the drinks are empty, so let’s go stretch our legs and hit the beach.”

And that was exactly why this queen was your bestie.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

"Huh, you're leaving already?" JJ asked as you slung your bag over your shoulder. "Gotta hit the hay or what?"

You’d all regrouped with the guys back in the shady spot on the beach. And honestly? You’d just hung out, chatted, laughed, Cara, Cleo, and JJ had shared a joint, and it had actually been really fun.

They’d welcomed you right in, super chill and easygoing, and the dynamic between them all felt like a little mini family. It was kind of adorable.

But now it was almost 7:30 p.m. and well, you’d promised Rafe to dip at this time.

You smiled a bit awkwardly. “No, I just…” Am getting picked up by the guy you all seem to hate. “…I already had plans for tonight,” you decided to go with.

“It’s fine, you can say his name,” John B said, grinning as he took a sip of his beer. “He’s not, like, the Darth Vader.”

Cleo raised an eyebrow. “Wrong franchise, dude. You mean the Dark Lord.”

Everyone laughed in unison.

“Okay, okay,” Cara said. “We promised her we’d drop the subject.” She stood up and helped you to your feet. “Now chop chop, Cinderella’s got a carriage to catch.”

She gave you a tight squeeze goodbye, grinning wide, which of course triggered a whole wave of hugs.

First Sarah, who jumped up next and hugged you warmly with a “Have fun, see you soon,” then Cleo and Kie, who added a good-natured “Don’t let him get away with any crap,” and JJ, who patted your shoulder and told you, “Protection first, fun second,” and finally Pope and John B, who said, “Take care and we’ll probably see you tomorrow, yeah? You guys are coming, right?”

Oh right, the open-air movie night.

Cara nodded for both of you. “Absolutely.”

“Want us to pick you up?” John B offered.

“Uh-huh, we’ll sort that out tomorrow,” Cara said, already nudging you away from the group.

With one last smile and a wave, you turned and headed back over the dunes toward the parking lot where Rafe had dropped you off.

Whew. Another wild chapter of today officially crossed off the list.

Now that you actually had a moment to yourself—no one talking your ear off or asking about Rafe—you finally had time to think.

Except… you couldn’t.

No thoughts. Head empty.

No energy left whatsoever. And no, that wasn’t really the Pogues’ fault. God no, they were all basically drama-free, free-spirited serotonin boosters. But the day itself had just been a lot.

And your body? Still recovering from last night and probably processing the final fragments of your hangover.

And the worst and best part? No time to exhale, because Rafe was already there, waiting with his black Benz in the parking lot, the setting sun throwing golden glints off the sleek surface.

Only when you got to the passenger side did you catch your reflection and realize you were grinning like an absolute idiot.

Already hit my peak craziness today, can’t get any worse, you thought as you climbed into the car with a cheerful, “Hi.”

Fuck. Every single time, it hit you again. Those painfully blue eyes of his. Then the scent of his cologne, the now-familiar smell of his car, that slightly unbuttoned polo shirt, and—oh. He was wearing his hair in curtain bangs style again.

He’d had it like that this morning too, now that you thought about it. But you were only really noticing it now that your head was clear enough to focus.

“What’s with the smile?” he asked, raising an amused brow and turning down the volume on the Kendrick Lamar track playing through the speakers.

You shook your head, still smiling. “Nothing, it’s just…” You glanced at his hair. “Too lazy for the slick back today?”

Rafe scoffed and started the car. “Nah, just taking a girl’s advice.”

YOU. HE MEANT YOU. OMG.

No way. Had he actually taken your little compliment from last night to heart? When you'd said curtain bangs suited him more than his usual style?

For some reason, that made your heart race fast.

“You take advice?” you teased, trying to play it cool despite the adrenaline spike. “Wow. That’s a first.”

To your surprise, he didn’t laugh or clap back with something snarky. No, he actually furrowed his brow, let out a bitter scoff, and pulled out of the lot. “Looks like Sarah and her little loser friends are already rubbing off on you.”

You blinked. Was he serious right now?

“Yeah, well I was joking,” you replied flatly.

Rafe glanced at you for a second. There was something—hesitation, maybe—in his eyes. “Yeah, some really funny joke, hanging out with people like that.”

Okay. Seriously? Fuck. That.

You were not in the mood for this bullshit right now.

“Okay, wait no,” you said, turning your body to face him fully, “I don’t know what your problem is with them or your sister, as a matter of fact, but keep me out of it. And, just so we’re clear: I can hang out with whoever I want, regardless of how you feel about them. Plus, if you’re gearing up for some kind of confrontation or Pogues-are-scum lecture, let me out of the car right now. I’ll go back to said ‘losers.’” You made exaggerated air quotes.

“And also,” you raised your eyebrows, more amused than angry now, “did you seriously just call me a loser?”

Now it was Rafe who blinked, clearly thrown off, gripping the steering wheel tighter as he threw you a very dry side-eye.

And as good as it felt to have said all that, to shut him down before the confrontation even had a chance to erupt, part of you couldn’t help but hope he wouldn’t actually start a fight now.

Not now, not when things between you were going so well. When you were at the peak of your… getting-to-know-each-other-project-partner-acquaintanceship.

Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease don’t blow up now.

“Shit, do I look like someone who hangs out with losers?” he finally said, and although he sounded tense—like, tense enough to physically restrain himself from crashing the car—there was an amused undertone to his voice.

Translated from moody-Rafe-speak, that probably meant something like: You’re not a loser. I didn’t mean it like that.

You let out a breath, but your voice stayed firm. “Well, apparently I do. And clearly, that bothers you.”

“Shit, yeah, I mean, why are you hanging out with my sister?” he asked, shrugging in irritation. “That’s weird as fuck.”

You shook your head, already irritated. “And what exactly is so weird about that?”

That seemed to make him think for a second. Maybe you should piss him off more often, then he’d actually start using his brain.

“I don’t know, it just is, okay?” he snapped back, somehow sounding both soft and frustrated.

You just stared at him, completely deadpan. “Uh-huh.”

Rafe scoffed. “Don’t ‘uh-huh’ me.”

“Okay, you wanna know what’s weird?” you said, raising your brows and gesturing toward yourself. “Telling me who I can and can’t hang out with. That’s weird. You’re not my dad, you’re not my mom. And I don’t even take that kinda shit from them.”

Rafe furrowed his brows like you were the crazy one. “What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not telling you what to do, I’m questioning your judgment.”

“What fucking judgment?” you snapped back. “They’re just normal people. And one of them happens to be your own sister. How can you talk about her like that?”

And now the craziest part: Rafe was clearly tense and worked up. It was obvious he didn’t like that you’d hung out with Pogues today, that you got along with Sarah. Like, he wanted so badly to keep picking at you, to criticize you, throw some kind of blame your way.

But all he did was exhale sharply, clench his jaw tight, and mutter, “Shit. I’m not in the mood for this shit right now.”

Okay. Something was definitely off. Rafe Cameron… backing out of a confrontation? Nah. Universe must’ve glitched.

“No, I want to know why it bothers you,” you pushed, surprised by your own willingness to keep going, considering this was probably playing with fire. “I mean, I think your sister’s cool. Shouldn’t that… I don't know make you happy or something?”

Rafe scowled. “Fucking great, you two are besties now.”

Oh my God. This was starting to sound an awful lot like theory #3 from earlier: Rafe being lowkey possessive.

“Cara is my best friend,” you said calmly, though really, you were just trying to outsmart the spiral slowly forming in your head by faking some semblance of calm, “but yeah, Sarah’s probably a great friend, too.”

Rafe clenched his jaw so tight, you could see a vein popping in his neck. His chest rose and fell like he was trying hard—really hard—not to lose it.

But despite the tension, he looked a little lost, like he didn’t know what to say. Hesitant. Unsure. And somehow, that clawed at your chest. He’d been so patient with your spiral earlier, so maybe it was your turn to meet him halfway when he had his little moody episode.

“I’m just trying to understand why this is hitting a nerve,” you said softly. “I mean, Sarah seems really nice and kind to me. But maybe she’s different around you. Of course, that’s not really my place to—”

“She’s a greedy bitch, okay?” Rafe snapped, his tone almost hateful, eyes fixed on the road ahead with shocking intensity. Then he glanced at you—pure rage flickering in his eyes. “She sticks her curios nose into everything, always has to be faster, smarter, better than everyone else.” He shook his head, eyes darting forward again. “And everyone treats her like some fucking princess, like she’s royalty or some shit, just for batting her damn lashes. Even at home.”

His voice had taken on a dangerously sharp edge. Visibly agitated, he jabbed a finger at his own chest. “I’m the one driving Wheezie around. I’m the one who listens to Rose’s bullshit. I’m the one who’s always backing Dad. I’m the one who deserves the kind of shit Sarah gets handed for free. But no one fucking sees that. Everyone’s too blinded by her fake charm and smiles.”

His face, already twisted with emotion, looked almost pained with the bruise still visible on his cheek. “Every fucking person in my life she tries to turn against me or pull over to her side. Dad. Wheezie. Fucking Topper, once. And now you,” he said, gesturing to you in one swift, bitter motion. “And I’m so fucking sick of her always getting away with it.”

The frustration and bitterness that followed cracked in his voice. “Every time she’s about to fall, there’s always some fucker there to catch her.” His brows twitched, and then his eyes finally locked with yours—sharp, bitter, and frustrated. “And I’m just so fucking sick of being the only one who sees through her bullshit.”

You were stunned. Completely thrown off by the sheer weight of what had just spilled out of him. All the anger, the bitterness, the jealousy but underneath it all, what you really heard was desperation. Frustration. A fear of being left behind. And maybe a deep-rooted sense of not being good enough.

And if you had to guess… the root of it all wasn’t really Sarah.

It was Ward Cameron.

Because no matter how hard he tried to pin the blame on his sister, something about the way he spoke… it didn’t feel like she was the real issue.

You didn’t know what went on behind closed doors, of course, but your gut told you: His dad was the reason Rafe was like this.

The way he always talked about his dad, like Ward was some flawless, perfect man. The way Rafe instantly tensed whenever his father was even mentioned. The way he’d completely flipped into submissive mode when talking to a male authority figure—like your dad—calling him sir, being polite to the point it was almost… eerie.

And then, of course, the way he couldn’t hold a normal conversation without posturing, getting defensive, or misinterpreting every neutral word as an attack. Like he literally didn’t know how to express a single honest feeling.

Like that had to be the result of some kind of suppressed trauma.

And this? Rafe voicing his frustration out loud? To you?

That made your heart ache for this angry, wounded boy who maybe wasn’t so stupid after all. Just bitter. And broken.

And as much as you wanted to tell him that Sarah wasn’t the real problem, that he needed to take a long, hard look at his dad, open his damn eyes—it would’ve been pointless.

His hate, his bitterness toward Sarah ran deep. Too deep for you to reach right now.

So you tried a different approach.

Because what he really seemed to ache for was to feel seen. Maybe the only thing you could do right now was acknowledge that.

“If I’d rather hang out with Sarah, I wouldn’t be here right now,” you said softly, heart pounding so loud it nearly drowned your own words.

Rafe's brows twitched like he was weighing the truth in your words, but then he shook his head bitterly, eyes fixed on the slowly darkening road. "You don't fucking get it. That invite to her stupid little hangout was just the start of her bullshit. She always gets what she wants, eventually." He scoffed. "You already jumped at the first chance she gave you."

Let's add Theory #4: Rafe being scared of abandonment.

You fidgeted with your fingers in your lap, taking a slow breath in. This wasn’t just playing with fire—this felt like walking across a paper-thin glass dome, already cracking beneath your feet, threatening to shatter and drag you down at any second.

"But Sarah wasn’t the one who called me or asked me to come," you reminded him softly. "Cara wanted me there. She needed advice about JJ. If she hadn’t needed my help, I wouldn’t have asked you to drop me off." A small, almost amused chuckle slipped from your lips. “Not after driving you this close to insanity.”

That seemed to ease some of the tension in his body.

With a stern look, he muttered, "She's chasing fucking Maybank? Of all the shitty-ass Pogue rats, she chooses him?"

You laughed at the dry amusement in his tone and how quickly his demeanor had shifted. "Yeah, but I doubt it'll turn into a long-term thingy. Topper kinda flipped all her principles upside down."

Rafe didn’t respond. He just kept staring ahead, a stormy mix of exhaustion, confusion, and frustration in his eyes.

It was strange seeing him shut down like this, considering he was always the one with the cocky remarks and sharp comebacks. But right now? He felt like a wolf shedding his skin to reveal the sheep underneath.

“If what’s got you scared is—” you started, but he cut you off immediately.

"I'm not fucking scared, alright?" he snapped. "I’m just not in the mood to waste my fucking time on someone who’s already dancing to Sarah’s tune."

In other words: he was scared.

You eyed his harsh profile, your gaze soft. “Okay, but I don’t get why you'd even think that. I mean, I’m here, aren’t I?”

“The fuck do I know,” Rafe muttered, voice tinged with visible frustration. “Why’d you stay over there then, huh? Or did Sarah send you to spy on me?”

Paranoid too. Fantastic.

An amused smile tugged at your lips. “Well, for starters, Cara was there, and I’d already promised her we’d hang out today anyway. So I figured I might as well knock that out." You toyed with the strap of your bag. “And, even if you don’t want to hear it—or won’t get it—I actually thought the people there were… nice. Welcoming even. To me, at least.”

Rafe looked about two seconds away from pulling over and kicking you out of the car, so you hurried on: “But as friendly as they were… they’re also a lot. Like, imagine a room full of Caras, Kelces, and Toppers all at once,” you said with a soft chuckle. “Sure, it’s fun in small doses. But for someone like me? That's exhausting.”

The car came to a stop at a red light, but Rafe didn’t meet your gaze—just kept staring straight ahead, uncertainty written all over his face. A heavy silence settled in the car.

"And this right here?" you continued, your voice suddenly quiet. "This is like a welcome escape."

Only the soft hum of the engine and the loud pounding of your heart filled the air as you waited for his reply.

The light turned green, casting a glow across the car’s hood but Rafe didn’t move the car. In the side mirror you only spotted an empty road behind you.

Rafe's eyes finally met yours, and for some reason, with that bruise on his face and the exhaustion in his gaze, he looked wrecked. Completely worn down, like he didn’t even have the energy to snap back.

“See, that’s the thing,” he said flatly, his usual fire missing. He gestured vaguely to his chest. “I don’t want the doll Sarah tosses away after she breaks it.”

That sounded a hell of a lot like I’m sick of being everyone’s second choice.

Jesus. This boy had issues so deeply tangled it made your chest ache. All you wanted in that moment was to hug him.

“Good thing I’m not a doll, then,” you said with a soft chuckle. “And maybe I worded that badly. I didn’t mean it like I’m just using this,”you motioned between the two of you,“as some kind of doormat.”

You tilted your head slightly, tapping your finger against your temple as the light turned red again. “That would be a shitty move, especially considering I recently just mentally added you to my friend book today.”

And just like that, the hard edge in Rafe’s face melted. His crooked smile crept back, and the heavy storm cloud hanging over you both finally drifted on. “Shit, you actually did that?”

Was that really all he needed? A little acknowledgment? Some reassurance? It was almost like you both carried the same core issues, just rooted differently.

You smiled wide and shrugged. “Your folder idea wasn’t bad not gonna lie, but that felt a bit too impersonal for me.”

Rafe scoffed, amused, and god, your heart flipped at that familiar sound. “Thinking about it, maybe Sarah can have you,” he said with a lopsided grin. “Your crazy ass would fit right into her fucked-up group.”

A laugh burst from your lips. “You can still turn around.”

His brows twitched, a flicker of irritation in his eyes.

Oh god—no way he thought you actually meant that.

So you quickly added, “But I’d much rather stay here.”

Rafe held your gaze for a moment, his expression still harsh, but the green traffic light seemed to soften the sharp lines of his face at just the right angles.

Funny enough, he actually did remind you of a Doberman—sharp, alert, a little intimidating, but really just an anxious soul underneath.

A loud, grating honk made both of you jump.

“Holy shit,” you laughed, startled, pressing a hand to your chest.

Rafe glanced up at the rearview mirror, scowling. “Fucking Pogue in his shitty-ass truck.”

“Just drive, please,” you said, half-nervous, half-amused, glancing through the rear window. “That guy actually does not look friendly.”

Rafe let out an amused breath as he finally started moving the Benz. "Guess there’s still a little bit of reason left in that crazy head of yours."

And just like that, the energy between you two was back to normal. Or, well—as normal as it could be, considering neither of you was exactly normal. You had a full-blown overthinking-spiral problem, while Rafe... yeah, let’s not even try to unpack those issues.

Still, that one moment where he’d let out some of his frustration—even if it had been aimed at his poor sister—only made the pull you already felt toward him even stronger.

It was like, every day, he peeled back another layer of himself. Compared to the beginning of the week? Holy fuck, that was a completely different ball game.

Where you’d been anxious as hell just riding shotgun to Kelce’s place on Tuesday, now you felt this calm, this ease around him. Rafe had started out as nothing more than an intimidating crush but now? He was just a guy, carrying way too much unprocessed shit, trying to bottle it up in public.

And despite the absolute oceans of differences between the two of you, despite constantly arguing, snapping at each other, and testing each other’s patience daily—somehow, it worked.

He shut down your overthinking, and you drove him fucking insane. Nah, just kidding. (Actually… not really.) You helped him be real, humbled his cocky ass now and then.

And maybe that’s why this weird project-partner-acquaintance-kinda-friends-now-ship was working for both of you.

OKAY GIRL, that’s enough thinking for today, damn. Just chill out already.

And you did.

The sun had finally dipped below the horizon, letting the moon and stars take center stage. Rafe was just cruising around the Outer Banks without any real plan. Kendrick Lamar and J. Cole played in the background, and at some point he even tossed you his phone to pick songs yourself. You caught him tapping his finger to the beat of Tame Impala and Suki Waterhouse, even though he had the audacity to call it “depressed emo girl music.”

Other than that, the two of you just vibed. Rafe bitched about Kelce and Topper, you both talked shit about Chris Reid and Ruthie, and you rambled on about some design ideas for your school project and how to execute them in collage form, until Rafe had had enough of the school talk and, surprisingly, steered the convo back toward your little beach hangout earlier.

You could tell he was physically restraining himself from crashing out, but he still nodded, showed some (fake) genuine interest, and only threw in a couple minor passive-aggressive comments.

Another small win.

Around ten, you both got the munchies. After going back and forth way too long, you finally insisted on McDonalds.

Rafe nearly cried (no joke) as he squeezed his massive Benz into the way-too-narrow drive-thru lane. Then he almost had a full-blown breakdown when the cashier handed him your milkshake without a lid—because God forbid his precious seats got dirty. Luckily, the lady was kind enough to give him one before the panic attack fully set in.

And once you were in the car? He opened every window and door to eat—because, apparently, the fabric seats were at risk of absorbing “that garbage smell.”

Jesus Christ, this guy was a drama queen.

“You know,” you said, laughing as you daintily picked up a fry, still not over the fact that he actually paid for your order too, “we could’ve just eaten inside.”

Rafe just scoffed as he layered, like, seven hundred napkins across his lap. “It’s bad enough I even showed up here. No way in hell I’m letting anyone see me inside that cracked-out hellhole.”

You seriously doubted anyone gave a single fuck that Rafe Cameron was picking up 9-piece nuggets and a Big Mac meal on a Saturday night at McDonald’s, but sure—let’s not ruin his illusion.

He then frantically gathered every single piece of trash and had you throw it out so no one would catch him in the act.

Then the car just sat there, windows wide open, for ten whole minutes to “air out the cursed stench,” before he finally drove off again.

About an hour later, around 11, a heavy wave of sleepiness hit you. You’d barely slept the night before and had spent half the day with a lingering hangover. Tomorrow, you at least wanted to feel like a semi-functional human.

So yeah, you decided to call it a day.

Rafe looked mildly offended, but truth be told, he seemed ready to pass out too. That didn’t stop him from taking the longest, most unnecessary detour ever (clingy Rafe confirmed) before finally pulling into your parents’ driveway half an hour later.

“Thanks for the ride. And the food,” you said when the engine shut off and everything went quiet.

Rafe let out a breath, half amused. “Pretty sure you can’t even legally call that crap food.”

“You sure didn’t hesitate with those nuggets, though,” you teased, smiling.

“Protein,” was all he mumbled in response.

You laughed softly. “Sure.” Then unbuckled and slung your bag over your shoulder. “Okay, well... uh... I guess I’ll...” OH GOD WHAT WERE YOU SUPPOSED TO SAY.

Last night you’d been absolutely wasted so you hadn’t given a single shit, but now??? Awkward silence GO.

“Wait, I’ll get the door,” Rafe mumbled, unbuckling too. “Don’t want your dad kicking my ass because I didn’t open it for you.”

You looked at him in disbelief, amused. “He’s definitely already asleep.”

Rafe opened his door with a frown. “Not risking another fucking bruise.”

You felt this weird, fluttery feeling in your chest and stomach as he walked over to your side and actually opened the door for you. Clutching your bag strap, you got out with a quiet, “Thanks.”

With a soft thud, Rafe shut the car door behind you.

“So,” Rafe said flatly, “do I have a sniper’s red dot on my forehead yet?”

You chuckled. “He was a combat medic, not a sniper.”

“And now chief physician,” Rafe said deadpan. “Pretty sure he’s got some shady connections and could get my doctor to prescribe me something lethal.”

You laughed again. “Alright, I better head inside before you start spouting more half-asleep conspiracy theories.”

“I’m wide awake,” he chuckled. “You need me to walk you to the door or you got this?”

You glanced at the door and nodded, your brows furrowed. “Dunno, what if some Pogue’s lurking behind the bushes?”

Rafe let out a dry “Fucking hilarious,” and then PUT HIS HAND ON YOUR BACK TO GENTLY STEER YOU TOWARD THE DOOR.

ALARM ALARM ALARM ALARM.

Exactly six steps later, he dropped his hand. “I’m not tucking you in though,” he said, and of course added with a crooked grin, “Unless you’re scared of sleeping alone.”

UM. HELPPPPPPPPPP.

A half-embarrassed, half-anxious laugh escaped your throat, your chest and neck heating up, and you shook your head. “I think I’ll manage, thanks.”

“Aight,” he said. And then—something shifted in his usual cocky posture. It could almost be interpreted as hesitation. Or nerves.

Okay, guess you had to say something now.

“You’ve got something on your mind,” you said, amused.

“Nah, I just…” He scratched his chin, his face twisting into a grimace. “I went to the gas station earlier after I dropped you off. Had to fill up my car.”

You nodded. “Sounds like something you’d do at a gas station.”

Rafe let out a shaky breath, followed by a “No shit, smartass,” the corner of his mouth twitching up in the faintest smile. “Okay, I just—when I was at the checkout, you know how they always have those shelves full of random dumb crap?”

“Gas station core,” you replied deadpan, trying to mask the way your nerves were absolutely going crazy, BECAUSE RAFE BEING NERVOUS ONLY MADE YOU TEN TIMES MORE NERVOUS.

Rafe looked at you with furrowed brows. “Yeah, and they had that dumb horse merch, that—what’s it called, that damn cartoon?”

“My Little Pony?”

He nodded impatiently. “Yeah, maybe. Whatever.” His hand slipped into his pocket. Then he pulled out a palm-sized yellow-pink plastic bag. “Anyway, figured your fucked-up brain might need this. All that stuff you said earlier about needing clarity and shit like that.”

He held it out to you, a smile on his face that didn’t quite match his usual cockiness. “Didn’t craft it myself though, but guess it’ll do.”

[system shutting down, please consider doing a backup]

…

DBJKHKSUEGFBVMLCDMCDJVGFSDWODJFDNCJKFLSÖ;XNAAGHDFSMDS;KMKSXKDWHATWHATWHATWHATWHAT

WHAT.

Your heart was pounding, nerves threatening to explode, adrenaline ready to hand you a goddamn stroke.

THIS. OH MY FUCKING GOD.

You probably looked like a complete idiot—lips slightly parted, eyes wide, just straight up staring at the thing in his hand.

You had no idea what to say or do. Despite the crooked smile on his face, Rafe looked way too serious for this to be a joke.

“Shit, take it already. I can see the minions in your head running around in panic,” he said and basically forced the bag into your hands.

You took it and stared, baffled. A smiley Fluttershy was printed on the front, surrounded by pastel pink hearts and yellow stars. And right under the big-ass MLP logo, in bold letters, it said: “Friendship Bracelet for the Fluttershy in your life.”

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP EXPLODING DYING REBOOTING.

MENTALLY JUMPING OFF A CLIFF.

Actually physically vibrating.

Okay. Okay. You needed to get a grip before you actually combusted or—holy shit—started crying for absolutely no reason.

Your eyes met his again, adrenaline surging through every damn corner of your body. “That’s... I don’t even... thank you, that’s really sweet.”

“Jesus, please don’t thank me for spending money on that shit,” he scoffed, stepping closer, his finger tapping the plastic. “And look, it says ‘friendship bracelet’. Not ‘I’m-trying-to-get-in-your-pants-or-use-you-for-a-hookup bracelet’.”

His intense blue eyes locked onto yours, and holy shit HE WAS CLOSE CLOSE. He tapped his own head. “That clear enough for your crazy brain? Or is there still some stupid little minion in there running his mouth? ‘Cause if so, I’ll knock the little shit out myself.”

Even though you were massively taken aback by this incredibly and unexpectedly sweet gesture, you somehow managed a laugh. “No, I think that should do it.”

Rafe let out a strained breath. “Jesus Christ. Fucking finally.”

You smiled, cheeks hot. “Where’s yours?”

“What?”

“Your bracelet,” you said, amused at his baffled expression. “Friendship bracelets only make sense if both people wear them.”

Rafe gave you a blank stare. “Shit. Wait, what? You actually wanna wear that?”

“Yeah, why not?” you chuckled. “You bought it for me, might as well put it to use.”

Rafe scoffed. “That crap didn’t even cost five dollars.”

“And?”

“And it was clearly just meant to make a point. Didn’t actually expect you wanting to wear that shit."

“Okay well, let me at least see what it looks like,” you said, tearing the little bag open.

And—holy shit.

You’d expected some hideous, oversaturated, cringey kid bracelet with plastic hearts and cursed Fluttershy charms but this was actually ridiculously cute. And definitely not sized for a child’s wrist.

A silver chain with pastel-colored hearts, flowers, and beads dangled between little silver charms: a butterfly, a key—OH MY GOD.

“It’s cute,” you said, grinning as you looked at him. “I like it.”

Rafe scowled dramatically, raising a brow. “Lemme guess, you want me to put it on for you.”

DKFJHSDHFBVJDLNSKADNVJSDFKLS YES PLEASE.

“That’d be nice,” you said quietly, handing him the bracelet.

You held out your arm, and Rafe stepped even closer, wrapping the bracelet around your wrist from underneath. His fingers brushed against your skin as he clumsily fumbled with the clasp, his expression focused like he was defusing a bomb.

You couldn’t even laugh at how badly he was struggling with a literal children’s bracelet because your heart was pounding so loud, your breathing had basically stopped because you could feel his warm breath on your wrist.

“Fucking hell, what is this shitty-ass clasp,” he muttered, brows pulled together in frustration. But finally he managed to close it, letting out a breath like he’d just survived a 24-hour brain surgery.

“Thanks,” you said as he stepped back, your eyes dropping to the bracelet and the tiny little charms dangling from it. You were smiling like an idiot. “It’s actually really pretty.”

Rafe looked at you like he was now absolutely convinced you belonged in the ‘mentally unstable’ section. “Shit, well, I guess as long as it spares me from another long-ass conversation.”

You let out a soft chuckle. “Maybe on that topic, but I can’t make any promises in general.”

“Aight,” he said, making a hush motion with his hand. “Better get inside before I regret buying that crap.”

“Okay,” you said, probably still grinning like a dumb idiot. And then—you took a step forward, courage powered by a serotonin overdose, and hoped to EVERYTHING ABOVE he would catch the signal and not turn this into the most awkward goodbye of your life.

AND HE GOT IT.

Rafe stepped forward too, immediately wrapping his arms around you. Your own found their way around his neck. The little bracelet jingled between you, and you actually giggled like a total idiot because of this. This was everything and more.

His warm body pressed against yours, the scent of his cologne, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back—SJDHAKJDHKDJWH.

When you both pulled away, you were smiling at each other like two hopelessly dumb idiots. And of course, this dumb idiot in particular had to ruin it with some stupid comment.

Rafe nodded toward your wrist. “Try not to think about me when you—”

“Mh-hm, good night.”

He laughed, boyish and smug. “Aight. Sweet dreams.”

With that, he turned around, and you let out the most tension-filled breath of your entire life. Because what. the actual. fuck. Like--

“Oh, and you’re coming tomorrow, right?”

You looked up while digging for your keys. “What?”

“That shitty-ass open air thing,” Rafe said. “Topper’s driving, so you can get wasted again if you want.”

Oh. Now it was fine that you were riding with Topper? This guy made zero sense.

“Um, yeah... can we discuss that tomorrow?” you asked with a sheepish smile. “I still have to check in with Cara.”

Rafe’s brows twitched, but he nodded.

You exchanged one last round of goodnights, and finally—finally—you made it into your house. Without overthinking, you went straight to your room, shut the door, and collapsed onto your bed with the biggest motherfucking grin on your face.

And without even letting yourself process what kind of batshit insane day this had been, you knew you had to text Cara. Or rather, send a voice memo. And then tomorrow morning you’d have to suffer through like a thousand delusional, chaotic messages in response.

But when you opened your messaging app, a final (hopefully final) surprise of the day was already waiting for you.

You sighed, now LITERALLY completely finished for today. But just as you were about to switch your phone to airplane mode and get ready for bed—this:

You immediately put your phone into airplane mode, shut that thing off and tossed it onto your nightstand. Then you quickly got into your pyjama set, brushed your teeth and hurried back into bed.

Tucking yourself comfortably into the blankets, you force-shut your eyes and tried to ignore your thundering heart.

Your head was FULL. Like it had reached maximum capacity and workload today. AND NOW RAFE WAS BACK AGAIN WITH HIS CHEEKY LITTLE MESSAGES AND THAT CRAZILY GOOD LOOKING MIRROR SELFIE, GOOD HEAVENS HELP ME.

And that after he'd claimed--

NOPE. NO SPIRALING NOW. No overthinking, no questioning, no coming up with theories.

Absolutely not.

Rafe’s a flirty guy. He literally said so himself. And he was right, flirting didn't have to lead to anything. Plus, he just gifted you a freaking friendship bracelet like twenty minutes ago. So you’re not going to ruin your happy little bubble again.

That’s it for today. Tomorrow you’ll have plenty of time for unnecessary mental gymnastics and whatnot.

Brain, shut up now. Good night.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

EXTRA SCENE rafe buying reader the bracelet at the gas station

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

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 ->

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

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 @persiar9

500 notes · View notes

alisonsfics · 10 months ago

Text

guest lecturer - part one

pairing: tyler owens x student!reader

summary: when tyler owens shows up in our meteorology class to give a guest lecture, you are left just as speechless as all the other girls. but, tyler is just as awestruck by you.

word count: 2.9k

a/n: i COMPLETELY made up some science stuff for some dialogue, so if anybody actually knows stuff about meteorology or physics, this may be a little excruciating for you

part 2

You flipped through your notes, jogging your memory on last week’s lecture. The lecture hall was silent. Half of the students were falling asleep. The other half were cramming and finishing assignments for other classes.

Your professor came running through the door. Her shoes squeaked on the floor. “Sorry I’m late. I got caught in the rain.” She quickly apologized, setting her bag down at her desk.

You grabbed a pen out of your bag, preparing to start your notes as your professor got settled in.

“We have a surprise guest speaker today for you all, who should be here in just a minute.” She announced to the class. There was a collective sigh from the room. Guest lecturers were notoriously boring and seemed to drag on and on about nothing.

You started doodling in your notebook, mentally preparing for the longest two hours of your life.

“I know as meteorology students, you are all aware of the storm chaser Tyler Owens and his YouTube channel.” She began to introduce the guest.

A few of the students perked up at the mention of Tyler’s name, including you. You were a big fan of Tyler and watched most of his videos. You tried to not get your hopes up, assuming the guest speaker was just going to be someone on his team.

You started to zone out, your thoughts drifting to the marvelous Tyler Owens. He was a mix of supermodel meets daredevil scientist. He’d been a guilty pleasure crush of yours for a while.

You were brought out of your thoughts when you heard your professor say “Please give a warm welcome to Mr. Owens.”

Your eyes snapped up and landed on Tyler walking to the front of the room. You mentally cursed your decision to sit in the third row. You felt too exposed being somewhere that Tyler Owens could see you.

The presence of Tyler at the front of the room grabbed everyone’s attention. The few students who were fans of his work got excited to see one of their idols. The girls in the room that didn’t know who he was perked up because Tyler was the perfect mix of handsome and rugged.

“Thank you, Dr. Hannigan,” Tyler thanked your professor for introducing him.

Tyler’s eyes drifted around the room. As he became more of a niche celebrity, he was getting used to being ogled by a room full of girls. Wherever he went, there were girls waiting and drooling over him.

You sat up straighter in your seat, feeling thankful today was the day you chose to dress cuter than normal.

Tyler’s eyes landed on you. There was something different about you. All the other girls were staring at his muscles, while you weren’t an exception to that, there was more to it. You were hanging on to every word he said. He could see your interest in not just him, but what he was talking about.

His eyes ran over your body before continuing with his next point. You felt your skin heat up under his gaze. You quickly crossed your legs and tried to distract yourself from the aching between your legs.

He made a few jokes relating back to tornadoes. Each one was met with a room full of flirty giggles. Half of them didn’t even sound like they understood the jokes.

You weren’t blaming them for ogling him. His very presence in front of you made you think God was sending you a treat to apologize for how catastrophic midterm week had been.

But, you were at least paying attention to what he was talking. Some were just picturing him naked.

“So, what my team is currently working on is efforts to deescalate, or for lack of a better word, control tornadoes.” He started to explain his work. The facade of a tornado-wrangling cowboy had the entire class enthralled.

All of a sudden, before you knew what you were doing, your hand shot up in the air. You didn’t process that you’d actually have to speak to Tyler if you wanted to ask him a question.

His eyes quickly met yours. He was eager to finally have a question to answer. “Let me guess, you’re gonna say it’s science fiction? That it’s scientifically impossible?” He asked you, anticipating the usual feedback he got.

You just smirked and shook your head. “I was going to ask if your work had anything to do with the Lawson’s theory of balance and imbalance?” You asked, fidgeting with your pencil.

Tyler furrowed his brow and had to stop his jaw from dropping. It wasn’t often that people could debate back and forth with him and challenge him.

The class waited as you caught him off guard. “She’s one of our brightest students.” Dr. Hannigan said, from her desk off to the side. You felt yourself sit up a little straighter as you stumped one of your idols.

You weren’t what was Tyler was expecting at all.

“You know what? You’re absolutely spot on. You want to come up here for a second and help me out?” He asked you. The heat rushed to your cheeks and your palms started sweating.

You quickly walked down the stairs to the front of the room. Tyler eyes stayed glued to you the whole time you walked towards him. “Tyler,” He repeated with a smile, reaching out to shake your hand.

You felt goosebumps as his strong hand grabbed yours. “Y/N,” You struggled to even find the words to introduce yourself. He noticed the electricity as your fingers grazed his.

He turned his attention back to the rest of the class. “So, to accommodate for Lawson’s theory, like Y/N mentioned, we have to do the opposite of what’s expected. Storms expect things. It’s just in their nature, so you have to do the unexpected.” He explained to the class.

He turned back to you, and your heart started beating faster. “Put your hands out in front of you, palms facing down.” He quietly instructed you. You quickly followed his directions.

“So, I’m gonna push against her hands. Since she’s expecting it, she’ll push back.” He said to the class. He took his hands and rested them under yours. He nodded and smiled at you, then he started pushing up on your hands.

You pushed back down against his hands. He was careful to not push too hard because he was much stronger than you. “See, there’s equal resistance.” He said, looking at how your hands stayed in the same place.

“Okay, now we’ll do it again, but this time we’ll use this.” He told you. Then, he fished something out of his pocket, and you realized it was a blindfold. He gently pulled it over your eyes, making sure not to pull on your hair. He placed his hands under yours again.

He softly counted down for you since you couldn’t see him, “3… 2… and 1…”

Instead of pushing against your hands, Tyler grabbed your hands and let you push his hands down with your own. You stumbled forward a step since there was no resistance.

Your hands instinctively reached out to keep yourself from falling and landed on his shoulders. He quickly grabbed your forearms, steadying you. You couldn’t see him, but he was smiling at you with a look of awe. You fascinated him.

He let go of your arms after you regained your balance. “Brilliantly done,” he whispered to you as he carefully took the blindfold off of you. You felt a shiver go down your back as his breath hit your neck.

“It’s all about doing the unexpected.” He said, to the class. Then, the bell chimed throughout the hall. “Alright, see you next week. Don’t forget about the reading.” Dr. Hannigan yelled over the rush of girls swarming towards Tyler.

You hurried back to your seat to grab your backpack. As Tyler was swarmed, his eyes stayed glued on you. He watched you as you walked away, grinning to himself.

Not wanting to get caught up in the swarm of girls, you grabbed your bag and ran off to your next class. Tyler lost you in the crowd, but couldn’t get you off his mind.

You were sitting in your next class when you got an email from Dr. Hannigan. It read: “I know you all had lots of questions for Mr. Owens, so he has agreed to host office hours at 3pm today in my office.”

You felt your stomach do a flip as you thought about being in a room with him again. You debated whether or not to go. You didn’t want to get swept up in another mad frenzy of girls hitting on Tyler, but you wanted to see him again.

Once your class ended, it was like your feet had a mind of their own as you found yourself walking towards your professor’s office.

It was a small office, so you expected to see a line out the door. It was eerily quiet, and you didn’t see anyone.

Turns out, if the words weren’t coming out of Mr. Tornado Dreamboat’s mouth, your peers weren’t interested. So, none of them checked their emails.

You softly knocked on the door and heard Tyler call out, “Yeah, come in.”

You slowly opened the door and stepped inside. Tyler lit up once he saw that it was you. He’d been hoping you’d show up.

You’d expected your professor to be here as well, so your nerves got worse when you realized the two of you were alone.

He was sitting at your professor’s desk. You noticed the playing cards lying on the desk, like he’d been playing Solitaire. “Slow day?” You asked, gesturing towards the cards.

He chuckled to himself and nodded. “Yeah, you’re the first person to show up.” He said, laughing. You sat down across from him and started to feel less nervous.

The giant desk between the two of you was a good deterrent to stop you from doing anything stupid like trying to kiss him.

“Thank you for helping out in class. I was dying for somebody to ask a question. Everyone was just staring. And I’m sorry for almost making you fall.” He started making small talk. The conversation flowed really naturally.

“I’m just really fascinated by your work. I have so many questions.” You said, smiling back at him. He could see the enthusiasm on your face, and he knew you weren’t faking anything.

“Oh yeah, Dr. Hannigan sent me your midterm paper a few weeks ago. It was pretty brilliant stuff. I was trying to figure why your name sounded familiar. I think that’s why. You should come out for a ride sometime. Get some field experience. I’d love to take you.” He praised you.

You couldn’t help but get a little bashful. Your idol, who you had a massive crush on, was praising your work and wanted to work with you. The thought of spending time alone with Tyler out in the field was enough to make your stomach do flips.

“You really read my paper? I brought it with me. I wanted to ask your opinion on some things.” You said, grabbing your paper out of your bag. He nodded, enthusiastically.

He wheeled his chair around to your side of the desk, so he was sitting right next to you. Your nerves that had been starting to fade were back in full force. It was different when Tyler was two inches away from you. He leaned his arms on the desk, his one arm pressing up against yours.

You could smell his cologne, and it was all you could think about. Your mind was just a blur of cedar and hints of vanilla. “So, I umm…what I wa-wanted to show you was…” you mumbled, flipping through your paper.

Tyler softly smirked to himself. He interrupted you and put his hand on top of your paper, forcing you to look at him. “Do I really make you that nervous?” He asked you, barely above a whisper.

Your eyes were glued on his. His deep emerald eyes drawing you in. You couldn’t even muster up a response. You were speechless as you watched how intently he stared back at you.

“Yeah? I make you nervous, honey?” He asked, in a softer tone. The pet name took you by surprise. A muffled whine escaped your lips. You hadn’t realized you made the sound until you heard it. He held your chin, stopping you from looking away.

You quickly crossed your legs, trying to ignore the way he was making you feel. He brushed a piece of hair out of your face.

“I guess we’ll just have to find a way to loosen you up then.” He teased. The words went straight to your core.

Tyler watched the way you swallowed as you tried to collect your thoughts. “I need to know if you’re okay with this, honey. Gotta use your words,” he coaxed you.

“Please, Tyler,” you begged him.

He smirked and grabbed your hips. He effortlessly picked you up and sat you on the edge of the desk. “You were distracting me so badly when I was giving my lecture. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.” He said, toying with the hem of your skirt.

Tyler didn’t believe his ears when he heard you whimper. His eyes shot up to lock onto yours. “Don’t worry, honey. I’ll take real good care of you.” He assured you.

He pressed sloppy kisses along your jawline. You raked your fingers down Tyler’s back. He continued to play with the fabric of your skirt. With a burst of confidence, you grabbed his hand and placed it on your bare upper thigh, under your skirt.

Tyler stopped kissing you. A cocky grin grew on his face. “That was so fuckin’ hot,” he groaned, kissing your lips. You hungrily kissed him back. His thumb caressed the inside of your thigh.

Following your lead, he let his hand sneak higher up your leg. He could feel you getting more desperate. As his hand got closer to where you wanted him most, he could feel your skin growing hot.

He ran his thumb over your panties, feeling a small wet spot. Your moan was muffled as he kissed you.

He started to pull your panties to the side, and you both heard the doorknob start to jiggle.

You both quickly pulled apart, and he set you on the ground. You managed to quickly smooth out your skirt and grab your backpack.

The door opened, and you recognized one of your classmates. “Hey, welcome in,” Tyler waved at them, pretending he wasn’t pissed that you got interrupted.

You watched as Tyler discreetly wiped his hand on the back of his jeans. “Those were all the questions I had. Thank you for your help.” You thanked Tyler before rushing out the door.

Tyler wanted to run after you, but he couldn’t now that someone was watching.

You practically ran back to your apartment. You didn’t want to show your face. Of course, no one knew about your meeting with Tyler, but you felt like everyone knew.

You were worried that other student found the whole thing suspicious. And what if he told your classmates or Dr. Hannigan? Soon, the whole campus would know you were the girl that tried to fuck a guest lecturer.

You spent the evening binge watching your favorite tv show. You hoped it would distract you from your embarrassment, but it didn’t. You were brought out of your thoughts when you got another email from Dr. Hannigan.

“Good evening class. I’m glad you all enjoyed the guest lecturer today. Mr. Owens told me he was very impressed by all of you and your interesting questions. I forgot to mention it in class, but his team currently is seeking an intern to work with them over spring break. I highly recommend that all of you apply. You can email Mr. Owens at [email protected]. Best, Dr. Hannigan.”

You stared at the email address, deciding what to do. It would be a great opportunity. Tyler could really teach you a lot. But now, the thought of seeing Tyler made you want to hide in your bed.

You quickly deleted the email, so you couldn’t change your mind and went to bed.

The next two weeks were completely normal. You’d almost completely forgotten about your almost-hookup with Tyler. The only time he popped in your head was when you were lying awake at night. You couldn’t get the thoughts of his fingers out of your head.

It was all fine. Until, Dr. Hannigan stopped you after class.

“Is this about my assignment? I know it was a few hours late. I’ve just been a little distracted recently. It won’t happen again.” You quickly apologized.

Dr. Hannigan shook her head. “Mr. Owens reached out to me about you.” She told you. You panicked.

“What did he say?” You asked, trying to not sound too desperate.

There was no reason for Tyler to tell Dr. Hannigan about your almost-quickie. What if there were cameras? What if she knew? What if you got expelled? Your mind raced with different worst case scenarios.

“He said he was expecting you to apply for the internship, but he didn’t see an application from you. He was really impressed with your midterm paper, and he said the internship was yours if you wanted it. I think this would be a great opportunity for you, but it’s up to you. So, what should I tell him?” She asked you.

You were extremely flattered. Tyler wasn’t trying to avoid you. In fact, he basically had handpicked you to come work with him. You could turn it down.

“You can tell him I would love the opportunity.” You said, smiling at her.

taglist: @laurakirsten0502 @miraclesoflove @nathaliabakes @millipop18 @lillyssh-tposts @shyinadarkplace @vanteguccir @missroro @guacam011y @sw33t-cupid @ice-dtae @leyannrae @sia2raw @nyx2021 @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @shyconversationalbookworm @shadowhuntyi @visenyaverse @ruzannetheseahorse @superdeath @wandaswifeyforlifey @spookyqueen @mcuswhore @princess-evans-addict @n3ssm0nique @peakascum @cjand10 @namsey1987 @supernaturalstilinski @stephv213 @warriormirkwood @one-sweet-gubler @narliesstuff @bibissparkles @stupiidfrogs @navs-bhat @alipap3 @joeyfilth

Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist for all my imagines or for a specific character/fandom!!

#tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens twisters #tyler owens fanfiction #tyler owens fic #tyler owens imagine #glen powell #glen powell x reader #twisters movie #twisters

1K notes · View notes

cakypa120 · 2 months ago

Note

Billy and Danny are planning wedding with each other because of the observers

They consider Billy as a champion of magic to be too powerful by himself

And they consider Danny as the Ghost came in ancient space is being too powerful to be by himself

So they're married each other because apparently they balance each other out

Could Justice League because of this thing it's an arranged marriage that both of them are really unhappy with

It just them being unhappy with the observers especially Danny this could be tied in with the reverse Persephone thing

Like Billy is really happy with it because the gods are all supportive and Danny is dealing with her the butting heads in the fall of the ancients and observers

I may have misunderstood the question. Sorry(⁠ ⁠･ั⁠﹏⁠･ั⁠)

Marvel: You're invited to my and the Phantom's wedding! *holds out invitations to each hero*

Barry: What do you mean you're not married?!

Marvel: It was just an engagement. You know, meeting the parents and stuff. The Observants were really pushing for us to get married. Something about balance, I think.

Batman: The Observants?

Marvel: Yeah, those idiots.

Danny: *hisses* Why are you jumping in ahead of time?!

Observants: Danny Fenton and Billy Batson may not be married yet....

Observants: But Phantom and Captain Marvel should get married....

Observants: For the balance of the universe.

Danny: *covers face with hands and groans*

Observants: *wait calmly*

That's not how Danny wanted to marry Billy. He was planning something romantic, and only when he graduated. Only the Observers disrupted all his plans. Danny was then grabbed by the arms and placed in front of Billy. Then the Observers said that the engagement had been approved and the wedding date had already been chosen. It was a shock to Billy, but it was Danny who was most shocked.

Phantom: They didn't give me a choice, you know? I wanted everything to be romantic. So that the one I love is really admired. But they bring me to him and tell me that everything has already been decided!

Superman: This is terrible! Why did they do this to you?

Phantom: Like I know. They're all assholes who don't respect anyone. It's good that Marvel understood me when I explained everything to him.

Superman thought that the Phantom was being forced into an engagement with Marvel. And the fact that these two are not very happy about it. Clark now disliked the Observants a little for what they had done to Phantom and Marvel. Forced marriage is always very bad.

While Danny was fighting with the Observants, Billy was very happy that he was marrying Danny. That is, Captain Marvel marries the Phantom. But Billy is Captain Marvel, so it's okay. Today the Captain and the Phantom, tomorrow Billy and Danny. He considered it a victory.

Zeus: I can ask Dionysus to provide alcohol.

Solomon: We want to celebrate quietly, and not turn everything into a binge and an orgy.

Achilles: We should have a fight with the Observants as a competition.

Hercules: I agree. You can also beat Adam.

Atlas: Isn't he our best man?

Mercury: Billy's best man, Marvel's punching bag.

Billy: Guys, we were choosing a menu.

Persephone: Why didn't anyone tell me that my beloved nephew was getting married?!!?

Hades: Run, you fools!!

Preparations for the wedding were in full swing. Billy and Danny were going crazy over the preparations. The league was going crazy about the upcoming wedding. The observers made sure that everything went well.

On the wedding day, Marvel had a lot more gold hanging on him than before and his whole appearance was more majestic. The phantom was blinding in its beauty. A ring of rage glittered on his finger and a crown of fire burned with a green flame. Phantom and Marvel looked great together, as if they were made for each other. As much as the League dislikes this marriage, they admit that Phantom and Marvel balanced each other out.

The ceremony begins.....

....Another alien invasion is taking place on Earth.

It's like a wedding without a fight, right?

#billy batson #dc captain marvel #dcu #captain marvel #shazam #fawcett city #jl #danny phantom #danny fenton #dc x dp #dc×dp #dying sparks

429 notes · View notes

sapphicandgraphic · 3 months ago

Text

Safe House—Chapter 1

Synopsis: Natasha is a lawyer, and you’re a key witness in one of her cases. She offers her home as a safe house during trial prep. While living there, she and her wife Wanda start to fall for you.

Chapter: 1/10 (The Proposal)

Series Warnings: Non-Marvel AU, angst, crime, drama, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, protective WandaNat, fem reader, age difference, WLW

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of violence

—————

Natasha rounded the last length of the indoor track, legs and arms pumping in perfect rhythm as she pulled ahead of her sister. What had started as a friendly cooldown jog had escalated into a flat-out sprint when Yelena challenged Natasha to a race halfway through their last lap.

Leaning forward, Natasha dug deep and found a final burst of energy. Her lungs felt like they were on fire, and the lactic acid in her leg muscles was burning as she exploded across the finish line a full three strides ahead of Yelena.

“You cheated,” her sister called, clutching a stitch in her side.

“How?” Natasha demanded.

Yelena gestured vaguely. “Longer legs.”

Natasha chuckled as Yelena slumped forward, propping her hands on her knees. “Best three out of five?”

Just then, Natasha’s phone rang.

“Saved by bell,” Yelena taunted.

She grabbed a bottle of water and a hand towel, eyes darting around the gym. It was a private facility, and at this late hour it was mostly empty. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching.

“Yeah, I’ll let you know when I’m heading home,” Natasha murmured, voice low. “Miss you too, detka.”

Ending the call, the redhead slipped her phone back into her pocket and followed Yelena toward the changing room.

“How’s Wanda?”

“She sounds tired,” Natasha said, peeling off her shirt. “Her flight’s delayed until tomorrow.”

Yelena grunted in something like sympathy. Natasha pulled her hair back, tying it into a messy top knot. Her sister’s bright eyes shifted around the room uneasily.

“You’re acting weird,” Natasha observed.

“Am not,” Yelena scoffed as she shrugged out of her own sweaty tank top.

Natasha frowned. Her sister’s nervous energy was infectious.

“Are too.”

Yelena rolled her eyes but didn’t bother arguing.

Together they walked toward the sauna and slipped inside. Natasha took a seat on one end of the cedar bench and crossed her legs, drawing from a deep well of patience as she waited for her sister to explain who exactly she was supposed to be meeting, and why the circumstances had to be so clandestine.

Yelena, however, said nothing. A minute went by. Then another. She glanced at her wristwatch, leaning back as sweat began to bead on her forehead.

Suddenly the door to the sauna opened.

“There you are,” Yelena grumbled, standing up and pulling you into an aggressive hug. “I was getting worried.”

“Sorry,” you said, voice muffled against her shoulder. “Had to make sure nobody was following me.”

Natasha watched the interaction with interest. She thought she knew most of Yelena’s friends, but she didn’t recognize you. And you were definitely someone she would have remembered meeting. You were quite striking—tall, muscular, with a faint, thin scar over one of your hazel eyes.

“You must be Nat,” you said, gently disentangling from your friend. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Natasha gave you a tight smile. “Wish I could say the same.”

“Oh,” you said, voice tinged with a preamble of apologetic regret. “I’m pretty sure you’ve heard of me.”

You smiled wearily and extended a hand. Natasha’s eyes narrowed when she heard your last name.

“As in…”

You nodded.

“Guess that explains all the cloak and daggers.” She fixed her sister with a stare. “What exactly are we doing here?”

Yelena locked the door and took a seat. “She needs your help.”

“That much I gathered,” Natasha said dryly. You took a seat on the bench opposite the sisters, collecting your thoughts.

“My family’s reputation obviously precedes me,” you began with another crooked smile that Natasha tried not to find endearing. She watched as you ran a hand through your short sandy- blonde hair, took a steadying breath.

“I emancipated myself when I was 17. Cut off all ties with my family and did my best to disappear. Put myself through pre-med, carved out a little life in the city. Then last year, my father died.”

“I saw in the news,” Natasha inclined her head. “Sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks,” you said, swallowing around an unexpected lump in your throat. ”He was…”

You trailed off. In many ways, you were still processing your father’s unexpected passing. There was rage, yes, but also grief.

“A violent criminal?” Yelena offered bluntly.

You laughed.

“Yes,” you agreed, getting back on track. “And I’m an only child, making my uncle the heir apparent to the empire my father built.”

“And that’s a problem because?” Natasha prompted.

Your gaze hardened.

“My father was far from perfect, but he operated…by a code, of sorts,” you explained, struggling to articulate what you meant. “His brother is…nothing like him. He doesn’t care who gets hurt. He’s dangerous, evil.”

You paused, eyes flickering to Yelena. She nodded, as if encouraging you to contine. “Tell her.”

Natasha frowned. “Tell me what?”

You paused, lifting the hem of your shirt to wipe the gathering sweat from your face, and Natasha’s gaze flickered briefly to your toned stomach.

“Last week, his people…made contact,” you said. “They’ve extended me an offer, to rejoin the business.“

You looked at Natasha, trying to gauge her reaction, but she seemed to be lost in thought. Her face was scrunched into a frown of concentration. Your gaze drifted lower, to her full pink lips, and then even lower, to the golden skin of her neck and chest glistening with sweat. You licked your lips. The heat was making you feel a bit light-headed.

“Not to be rude,” she said, and your eyes snapped back up to her face. “But why the invite? What do you bring to the table?”

“That actually is pretty rude,” Yelena muttered.

“I’m not sure,” you admitted, ignoring your friend. “My father was extremely paranoid, and my uncle is the same way. Could be that he just wants to keep tabs on me, and having me on the payroll is the easiest way to do that.”

Natasha tilted her head to the side, considering this. From what she knew of your family’s crime syndicate, they traded mostly in illegal arms deals. They were also rumored to have eyes and ears everywhere.

“I’m guessing you haven’t gone to the cops?”

You nodded. “Too risky.”

Natasha took a deep breath, turning everything over in her mind. “How do you know this isn’t a trap?” She asked. “To lure you back in, then take you out of the picture?

You shrugged, and Natasha couldn’t help but feel a little impressed by your casual bravery. “If they wanted to kill me, they would have done it already.”

She nodded and leaned back, considering all the information you had shared.

“Last question,” she said finally.

“Thank god,” Yelena grumbled. “I’m melting.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Natasha’s dark eyes sparkled with obvious curiosity, even as she tried to school her face into a neutral expression.

“Well,” you licked your lips, leaning forward slightly. “You’re a lawyer, right?”

“She’s the best prosecutor in the city,” Yelena corrected, voice tinged with pride.

A small smile tugged at the corners of Natasha’s mouth. “She’s not wrong.”

You met her gaze evenly, squaring your broad shoulders.

“I want you to help me take them down.”

>>Subscribe to my Patreon for early chapter updates<<

#wandanat #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x you #mommy wanda #natasha x reader #natasha x you #marvel fanfic

446 notes · View notes

peachesofteal · 6 months ago

Text

more pizza girl

You're fucked.

It's the only way to explain how you feel, standing in the store, staring at bottles of liquor, wine, beer. You don't even know if this is the appropriate thing to do, but you've always seen it in shows, movies, so it must be, right?

You should have said no to this whole thing, should have told them you're busy, or you're working, or you had plans, but for some reason, you just knew they'd see through it. They'd call your bluff.

So here you were, staring at a rack of wine, trying to pick something to take to their house for dinner.

Even the thought is a marvel. You're not a complete shut in, you visit the few friends you have on occasion, your family, attend work functions, but this is different.

You know it is.

"Excuse me?" A petite old lady chirps at your shoulder, and you turn. "Do you need help?"

"Oh, um... no."

"You sure? It's just you've been standing here for almost thirty minutes." Fuck.

"I'm fine." It comes out more assertive than you would have liked, and she backs away without another word. Great.

You choose a six pack and book it out of there.

Their place is cozy. Not too small, not too big, clean and organized, orderly.

Except for the dog.

He's massive.

And slobbery.

And... not for you.

Simon realizes immediately, and herds him away behind a baby gate, where he promptly slumps to the floor and closes his eyes, tongue hanging from the side of his mouth.

"He's..."

"Ye dinnae have to say cute. We know he's not."

"He's a mutt," Simon tells you, placing a bowl of something hot on the table, "but he's ours. Rescued him an' everything. Never liked pets but... found him on the street an' for some reason couldn't leave him behind."

"That's so sweet." He shrugs, Johnny rolls his eyes.

"Didnae tell me a thing. Just came home with a giant slobbering bear." You eye the table and it's three chairs, suddenly overflowing with anxiety. Which one should you pick? Which ones are theirs? Do they sit next to each other? Doesn't someone always sit at the head of the table? "Take a seat wherever," Johnny coaxes but you remain frozen, avoiding their eyes.

A hand folds over your shoulder with gentle, careful pressure, and warmth. "This one." Simon urges you towards the one in the middle, and you relax, grateful.

"Sorry." You mumble, but Johnny reaches across the table and squeezes your hand.

"Ye dinnae have anything to be sorry for. We're really happy you came."

"I... I'm glad I came too." The admission tries to stick in your throat before you force it free, and they reward you with soft smiles.

"Let's eat then."

Dinner passes in a breeze. It's so easy to sit with them, be around them. Involved in their conversation but comfortable enough to bow out of it too, and just listen. They're very good at navigating it, knowing when to stop and go, when to ask you something, and when to move on.

"If you want to stay for a bit, we were thinking about watching a movie. Afraid we're not really exciting." Simon calls over his shoulder, unfolding his glasses and slipping them on his face.

"Oh." Just do it, do it, do it- "Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah but no... nothing scary. I can't do those." Johnny jerks his head towards the couch.

"Nothin' scary."

Simon doesn't give you the opportunity to stress over the seating arrangement this time, and points immediately to the left side of the couch. "The button down on the side will extend the footrest, and it can lean all the way back."

"Wow." Johnny settles on the other side, and Simon takes up an overstuffed armchair to your right.

Lots of distance. You kind of feel sad about it.

Your eyelids start to droop after an hour, and no matter how hard you fight it, you're in a losing battle. "I think I should go home." You mumble, and Simon pauses the screen.

"You alright?"

"I'm falling asleep." You don't make any moves to get up, instead curling in closer, tucking your hands under your cheek. The room is warm, the couch is soft, and the dog is snoring, which is comforting, in a weird way. "Should call an uber."

"We'll drive ye."

"No, no... I'm-" you yawn. You don't want to move, and when no one says anything, you let your eyes close for a few minutes. Just a few minutes.

In the dark, who knows what time or how many minutes or hours later, a blanket is tucked around your shoulders, shoes slipped off your feet, and someone strokes your cheek, trailing up over your forehead and away, lingering briefly.

"Sleep tight sweet girl."

#peaches writes #ghoap x reader

813 notes · View notes

kookooluvr · 7 months ago

Text

TEACH ME HOW TO LOVE — PART 2

jeon jungkook, a fellow professor at yonsei university, is your friend, co-worker, and secret bed buddy. you have rules set in place to make sure there are no misunderstandings in your little arrangement. the #1 rule is as clear as day; no catching feelings. simple, right? wrong. let's see how un-simple it gets when a certain economics professor falls for an emotionally unavailable political science professor.

pairing: professor!jungkook x (fem) professor!reader, fwb to lovers

genre: fluff, angst, smut, fwb au, economicsprofessor!jungkook, politicalscienceprofessor!reader, slow burn, some emotional constipation, some sappy moments, lots of sexy moments.

rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !

w/c: 2.7k

warnings: we meet jk's friends and tae makes his first appearance (we'll be seeing a lot more of him in future), oc is sick with a cold, jk is a simp and drops everything to make her feel better, lots of fluff, nothing explicit in this one, we find out some more of oc's rules, SATC mentioned, some marvel talk, talk of jk having a nice ass, mostly just lots of soft feels in this one <3

a/n: i'm so happy to see the amount of love part 1 got !!! part 2 is a bit shorter, but i think it's important to see their dynamic outside of the whole fwb thing. i'm aiming for the upcoming parts to be longer, i promise. i hope you enjoy all the feels in this one, and don't be shy to send me your feedback 🫶🏼💋

SERIES MASTERLIST

SPOTIFY PLAYLIST

Jungkook sits at a table in a rather fancy restaurant, half-listening to his friends as they joke about something over dinner. They've been meaning to get together for a while but they've all been so busy with work and their personal lives that it just never worked out until tonight. Well, it worked out tonight because Taehyung practically forced everyone to come.

"Yo, earth to Jungkook."

He looks over at Jimin with raised eyebrows, realizing he was caught staring at his phone in his lap. He knows he should be paying attention to the conversation happening around him, and he knows that it's rude to be on his phone while he's in company, but he hasn't heard from you all day and usually you would've exchanged words (or funny memes) by now.

It's not that he MUST speak to you all day, every day to survive, but it just happens. If he sees a funny video of a cat on TikTok, he sends it to you. If you forgot how to do something on Excel, you text him and he replies within two minutes to explain how to do it. Sometimes he even goes through the trouble of doing it himself, screen recording it and sending it to you to give you a step-by-step guide. That's just how it goes with the two of you.

"Huh? Sorry, what were you saying?"

"I was just asking if there's a special someone in your life," Jimin says with a little grin, resting his chin in the palm of his hand.

"Actually, what he asked was if you're still on track to die alone," Namjoon quips, Jimin waving him off with a little "eh, same thing".

Jungkook rolls his eyes, flatly denying any romantic relations. It's not like he's lying. He just can't say that he might have started developing feelings for the woman he's casually sleeping with, so he just settles on, "Naah, I'm too busy with work." It's easier.

They know their friend is a terrible liar, but they also know that he would tell them if he really wanted to, so they don't pry. They've heard your name once or twice in passing, a little comment here and there like '___ likes that movie' or '___ uses this perfume'. As far as they know, you're his work friend. That's it. Even Taehyung doesn't know much about you, and he works at the same university as an English Literature lecturer, which brings us to rule #2.

Rule #2: It stays between us. It's just less complicated if less people know, and Jungkook knows that if his friends knew about it, they'd be pestering him about you all night and he doesn't need that right now, especially when his eyes drift back down to his phone and there's still no text from you.

You're in bed, surrounded by snotty tissues and a sleeping Miso, who really couldn't care less that you just underwent a violent coughing fit. You're about to doze off, when your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You check the notification, and when you see who it's from, you swear you feel your heart rate rise, but maybe it's just from all the coughing.

prof jeon |7:50pm]: hey, you. prof jeon 17:50pm]: haven't heard from you all day... prof jeon [7:51pm]: are you mad at me bc i said sex in the city was boring??? 👀😭😭

You [7:51pm]: first of all, it's sex AND the city 💀 You [7:52pm]: and it's not boring, you're just a nerd who can't watch anything other than marvel

He laughs, knowing he should've expected that response. Your next message comes through shortly after.

You [7:53pm]: sorry for the radio silence You [7:53pm]: i have a nasty cold 😵‍💫 You [7:53pm]: feel like i was hit by a bus You [7:53pm]: took some cough drops and slept for most of the day

He really shouldn't feel the need to immediately rush to your aid, but he does.

prof jeon [7:53pm]: want me to come over?

You [7:54pm]: you don't have to do that, kook You [7:54pm]: i don't wanna get my germs all over you 😕

prof jeon [7:54pm]: don't be silly prof jeon [7:54pm]: i’ve had your bodily fluids on me before, who cares about a little snot 😂😂😂 prof jeon [7:55pm]: i can be there in a little bit

You [7:56pm]: you're gross 🙄 You [7:56pm]: and really nice

prof jeon [7:56pm]: see you in a bit x

He excuses himself from dinner with the excuse of a family emergency and promises his friends to hang out again soon. He grabs his coat and heads out to his car, making a stop at your favourite Vietnamese restaurant for some pho before driving over to your place.

You unlocked the door to your apartment and dragged yourself back to bed as soon as he texted you to let you know he's on his way up. You hear the door open and in walks Jungkook, looking very handsome you might add.

"You're dressed awfully fancy to take care of my cold," you tease with a little smile, your eyes drifting down to the plastic bag in his hand, a bag you know all too well due to countless trips to that specific Vietnamese restaurant. "And you brought food?"

He smiles as he removes his coat and walks over to the side of your bed, placing the pho on your nightstand before sitting down on the edge of the bed, clearly not bothered by the array of tissues scattered around the duvet. Miso sees him and gets up from her spot on the bed, sauntering off to the living room, almost as if she knows her mom is about to get folded like a pretzel again. But Jungkook's not here for that tonight.

"I was actually out at dinner with some friends when I texted you. And I thought you might've been too lazy to get up and actually eat dinner, so I brought soup."

The thought of him dropping his plans with his friends just to come over and take care of you fills you with a warm, fuzzy feeling. Maybe it's just your high temperature. Maybe it's the fact that he's just so kind to you. Whatever the reason may be, you're too sick and weak to fight the soft smile tugging at your lips.

"Thank you, Jungkook."

"Don't thank me. I just didn't want you to drown in your own mucus."

Your laugh makes his heart feel funny, even if it barely managed to escape your sore throat.

He opens the lid of the steaming hot pho and holds a spoonful to your lips. If you were your usual healthy self, you would've told him that you're fully capable of feeding yourself, but you're sick and vulnerable and he has that soft look in his eyes, so you let him feed you the soup. It's warm and a little spicy, and it instantly makes you feel better as it slides down your throat. It's just that good. That, and the fact that he bought it for you and drove all this way to feed it to you.

He makes sure you take any necessary medication and even helps you flip over to lay on your stomach so that he can rub some VapoRub on your back, his hands giving you the comfort you didn't know you so desperately needed.

You aren't used to being taken care of by such a gentle man. He blows on your soup for you so that you don't burn your tongue. He wets a cloth with cold water and lays it on your forehead to bring down your temperature. He touches you like you're some delicate porcelain that could break at any moment. When he lays down with you and runs his fingers through your hair, you don't fight it. When he presses a soft kiss to your cheek, you don't protest like you normally would because rule #3 is 'no kissing outside of sex' but you don't even care right now. You let him take care of you when you normally wouldn't. You allow yourself to be taken care of because it feels too good to overthink.

Jungkook feels a bit selfish for relishing in your current state because it allows him to care for you in your time of need. He would do it for any of his friends because that's the type of person he is, but this is different. This is you, and he would drive for hours and hours to get to you if you ever needed him. He would put everything on hold to be there for you. Hell, he would run into a burning building if you were in there. Because it's you.

He props his head up on his elbow and looks down at you, taking in your fevery flushed cheeks, your heavy-lidded eyes, your stuffy nose, and he thinks that no other woman will ever be as beautiful to him as you. He's not Taehyung. He doesn't teach literature and he doesn't have the best way with words, but he could spend hours writing poetry about the sound of your laugh or how animated you get when you're really passionate about something. He could sit and watch paint dry all day if you sat by his side and did it with him.

Jungkook takes the tv remote from the nightstand to turn on Sex and The City, clicking on a random episode from season 6 and getting comfortable next to you.

"What happened to Sex and The City being boring, hm?" you chuckle, giving him a teasingly pointed look.

"What, you want me to turn it off?"

"No, I just thought you didn't like it."

"But you like it."

You turn your attention back to the tv as a smile threatens to break out on your face, your head turned so that he doesn't see how much that simple response affected you.

He barely remembers the characters' names or much of the plot, but you enjoy the show, so he watches it with you, making comments here and there and even asking questions just so he can listen to your voice as you explain why Carrie Bradshaw does what she does. He mentally pats himself on the back for getting through a good handful of episodes before inevitably getting bored.

When you get up to go to the bathroom, he just can't help himself and turns on one of the Avengers movies, offering you a sheepish grin when you come back and see what's on your tv.

You roll your eyes and get back in bed, watching Iron Man perform a monologue for the millionth time. "Captain America's better."

He gives you a look like you just killed his dog or something, and you already know what's coming.

"Are you insane?! Iron Man is so obviously the best Avenger, ___."

"He doesn't look like Captain America, though."

"He doesn't have to," he scoffs, looking back at the tv. "He's got that whole rich CEO thing going for him. Plus, he's like, a genius."

"Nerds defending nerds, I guess," you tease with a faint smile.

He grins, a hint of smugness in his expression. "Are you saying I'm like Iron Man? Because if you are, that's a huge compliment."

"Iron Man's a bit more of a bad boy," you chuckle, narrowing your eyes at him as you try to think of who he resembles in the Avengers. "You're more...boy next door, kinda like Spider Man."

"Wha- excuse me, I can be a bad boy too if I want," he quips, trying to sound offended, but when you mention Spider Man, it kinda makes up for it. "I guess I'll take Spider Man. I do have a nice ass."

You laugh, giving him a puzzled look. "Who said anything about Spider Man's ass?"

"He's, like, known for having a great ass. Have you seen him in his suit?"

"So, that's it? That's why you'd make a good superhero? Because you have a nice ass?"

"Well...not just my ass. I'd make a great superhero because...y'know...great power, great responsibility and all that other stuff."

You scoff, shrugging like you can't argue with that.

He's quiet for a while, a full-blown fight scene playing out on the tv, his mind starting to wander a bit.

"You'd be Black Widow. You've got that badass, independent woman vibe," he murmurs, looking over at you with a soft smile.

"You think so?"

"Oh yeah. You're smart, confident, you don't take crap from anyone. Plus, you'd look really hot in the tight outfit." He just can't help himself.

You roll your eyes, softly swatting his bicep. "Of course that's what you think of."

He chuckles, shrugging his shoulders, feigning innocence. "Hey, what can I say? I'm a man, I like what I like."

And I like you. He can't say it out loud, but acknowledging it is enough for now, and when the cough syrup starts taking effect and your eyes slowly start to droop, he feels content with just having your head on his chest.

His phone buzzes and he pulls it out of his pocket to see a text from Taehyung, and your eyes are barely open when they land on the screen. You didn't even mean to look, it was kinda just an instinctive thing, but you're not interested in his private texts from his friends. What catches your eye is the photo on his lock screen. It's a photo of the two of you from a year ago, both of you making silly faces at the camera. It's a cute photo. If anyone else were to see it, they'd think you're a couple.

“I didn't know that’s your lock screen,” you mumble, your voice a lot sleepier than it was an hour ago.

“Are you snooping?” he teases with a little scoff.

“I didn't mean to look, your phone is kinda in my face from this angle,” you murmur through a soft chuckle, looking down at the photo.

“I like this photo of us.” He smiles when you tap the screen after it goes black, wanting to get another look.

“Coulda used one that I actually look pretty in,” you murmur jokingly, and as the cough syrup drains the last of your consciousness, the last thing you hear is a soft, “But you’re always pretty, ___.”

The next morning, you wake up feeling a little bit disorientated after taking all that cold medicine, blinking a few times to clear your vision. You slowly sit up in bed and check your phone, seeing that it's 10am. You almost think you overslept for work, but you realize it's Sunday. You think back to the night before, the way Jungkook came over and fed you soup, the way he gently put VapoRub on your back and made sure you were well taken care of. You turn your head to find Miso in the spot that Jungkook was in last night, and you would feel disappointed that he’s not there anymore if Miso weren't so damn cute. It's not like you expected him to still be here this morning. After all, staying the night is another boundary you don't cross, and he respects that, which explains why he left a little while after you fell asleep.

You feel that fuzzy feeling in your chest again when you take a better look at what's on your nightstand. Your water bottle stands tall, which Jungkook filled before he left last night, along with a little note from one of the notebooks on your desk.

The note says, 'Hope you're feeling a bit better. Get lots of rest and drink your fluids. Don't worry about falling asleep, Miso made sure I saw myself out. Hope to see you at work tomorrow xx'

You read the note again, and then again. It's simple but thoughtful. He didn't have to write a note. He didn't have to come over last night to tend to your illness, but he did, and you aren't surprised because he's him. That's just what he does.

You think about last night until you have to consciously stop yourself from smiling so much because your cheeks feel a bit stiff. You grab your phone from the nightstand and scroll to his contact, your fingers quickly sliding across the keyboard.

You [10:23am]: thank you for coming over last night, kook You [10:23am]: i owe you fr

prof jeon [10:25am]: you really don't 🙄 prof jeon [10:25am]: i just wanted to be there for you prof jeon [10:26am]: it's what spider man would've done 👀

You [10:26am]: 👁️👄👁️ You [10:26am]: nerd

PART 1 || PART 3

#jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #jungkook scenarios #bts jungkook #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #bts x reader #fic: tmhtl #kookooluvr

738 notes · View notes