#the looks he's giving at her and the camera

[norrisainz33]

enemies to... || mv33

summary: y/n and max are longtime rivals and former friends who find themselves colliding on track in spain and being forced to confront the feelings they've both been burying

pairing: max verstappen x driver!reader

fc & warnings: none and angsty, bad language, suggestive if you squint

requested: nope just inspired by spain

masterlist

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

f1 has made a post

liked by user1, user2, yourbff, yoursibling, mercedesamgf1, user4, user5, user6 and 634,530 others

f1: following an on track incident with mercedes driver, y/n y/l/n, max verstappen has dropped to p10 with a 10-second penalty.

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user1: DESERVED!!!!

user2: should've been more than 10 second penalty are you kidding

user3: nah max did nothing wrong

user4: max needs to leave y/n alone i'm so serious

user5: these two are always fighting

user6: i stand with my cancelled wife (max)

✿

you took a deep breath as you shut off the engine, your hands still trembling as you pulled the wheel out of its place and put it on the car. you had just spent the last five laps screaming over the radio, accusing max of deliberately turning in on you after he’d been instructed to give the position back. the contact had nearly put you both out of the race but somehow you’d limped over the line and managed to finish 4th despite the damage you sustained.

a forceful tap against your helmet broke through your thoughts and you looked up to find george standing at the side of your car. he offered his hand, no words, just calm eyes and quiet support. you hesitated for a moment, the tension in your shoulders refusing to ease but eventually took it. his grip was firm and grounding as he helped you out of the car.

“i heard what happened,” he said quietly once your feet hit the tarmac.

you ripped your gloves off, jaw clenched, gaze locked across the parc ferme where max’s red bull was being wheeled back into the garage.

"yeah," you snapped, pulling your helmet off your head. "and this won't be the last you hear of it either."

✿

f1 has made a post

liked by user1, user2, yourbff, yoursibling, mercedesamgf1, user4, user5, user6 and 634,530 others

f1: two very different takes following the incident involving these two rivals in spain 🫢

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user1: y/n is handling this so much more gracefully than i would’ve

user2: i’d give anything to be a fly on the wall for when these two inevitably run into each other in the paddock

user3: max doesnt need to say anything! he did nothing wrong!

user4: i dont understand why people are giving max the benefit of the doubt here.

user5: y/n should be legally allowed to punt him off the track in canada

user7: ofc the big baby doesnt wanna talk about it.

usr6: y'all are so sensitive. max was just racing her! not his fault she was in the way

user8: taking it out on y/n as if she was the reason red bull had a shit strategy??? have some shame max

✿

“frankly he cost his team and himself a lot of points by pulling what he did today,” you said, voice clipped as you adjusted the collar of your fireproofs trying to keep your breathing even. “i mean i’m 4th in the race and 4th in the championship and that’s really all that matters to me.”

the skysports mic hovered just a little closer, hoping to get a good sound bite from you. “if max wants to be a big crybaby and ruin his own races... i’m all for it.” and with that, you finished out the interview with short answers about canada and your plans to not talk things out with max.

the walk back to your motorhome felt endless especially as fans called out your name and cameras flashed around every corner. you didn’t stop like you usually did... not for selfies, not for questions, not for anything. the last thing you needed was to see his smug face again so the quicker you got out of there the better. but as it usually does... fate had other plans.

you stepped into mercedes hospitality, finally exhaling, only to be met with an agitating grating voice.

“a crybaby, huh?”

you turned sharply, the door still half-open behind you. max stood with his arms folded, his jaw tight, his cheeks still red from the heat of the race and his narrowed eyes were locked onto you like a missile. “yes,” you said dryly. “an ego-driven man child with no concept of accountability.”

a couple of mechanics quickly ducked past, awkwardly pretending not to hear. you and max had a reputation especially after a few incidents last year... max stepped forward, voice low and sharp. “a man child? you’ve got to be kidding me.”

you scoffed turning on your heel. “max, I don’t want to fucking talk to you.”

“too bad,” he bit out, already following behind you, his footsteps echoing in the narrow hallway. “i don’t give a shit what you want.”

you reached your driver’s room and threw the door open, stepping inside quickly trying to shut it behind you but max caught it before it slammed in his face.

“get out!” you snapped at the dutchman.

“no!” he snapped right back. “not until you drop the ‘poor me’ act and admit you knew exactly what you were doing out there.”

“you are insufferable,” you hissed, tossing your gloves onto the couch. “you turned in on me, ignored the team and nearly wrecked both of us.”

“you dive bombed into that corner like you had nothing to lose!” he shouted.

“first of all, i did not dive bomb you and second of all, I don’t drive scared unlike the rest of the grid when big bad max comes by!”

silence crackled between you, thick and heavy, your chests rising and falling in sync as the adrenaline refused to die down. “you are the fucking worst, max verstappen,” you whispered, voice shaking with anger, frustration, maybe something else you didn’t dare name.

his eyes flicked to your lips for a half second before narrowing again. “funny. i was about to say the same thing about you.” the air between you sparked like static. neither of you moved. neither of you dared to blink.

"i hate you." he said, almost like he was trying to remind himself of it. max’s jaw ticked and for a second you thought he might back down. but instead, he took another step forward, closing the space between you. the door clicked shut behind him, whether by accident or intention, you weren’t sure.

“you think I hit you on purpose?” he questioned, voice lower now. “you think I’d throw away a podium just to mess with you?”

you let out a dry laugh, “wouldn’t be the first time you let your ego drive the car.”

he smirked, “thats so rich coming from you. you're the only person on this grid who wants to win more than they care about keeping the car on the track.”

“because I’m not here to play safe.” your eyes burned into his. “i race to win and if you can’t handle that -”

“i can handle you,” he said, stepping so close your chest brushed his. “that’s the problem. you don’t scare me, lieverd.”

the dutch slipped off his tongue like a challenge, like something heavier than an insult, something personal. your heart thudded against your ribs. “oh, you think calling me ‘darling’ in dutch is going to make me melt?” you scoffed, shoving at his chest. “newsflash, verstappen! i’m not one of your fans.”

his hand caught yours as it hit him, holding it firm between your bodies. his touch was calloused, warm. infuriatingly familiar.

“no,” he said, not taking his eyes off you or letting go of your hand despite you trying to pull it away. “you’re worse. you get under my skin and stay there.”

you hated how close he was. hated how your body betrayed you and wanted nothing more than to lean further into him. and before you could stop yourself, before logic could win over impulse... you grabbed his face and crashed your mouth against his.

it was teeth and frustration, months of tension and post-race fury unraveling all at once. his hand came up to the back of your head messing up your hair and anchoring you like he’d been waiting for this as long as you had.

a loud knock pounded at the door a short second before it swung open, "y/n/n, i wanted to check on you after -" the familiar sound of lando's voice filled the room and despite the speed at which you and max had pulled away from each other.. he absolutely saw it all. "oh wow! ok so…. you're fine i guess." he smirked.

you quickly patted down your messy hair and took a few steps away from max, "lando for the love of god you have to wait until someone replies back to your knock before barging in!!"

lando looked between you and max, completely ignoring your comment. "is this some sort of weird foreplay for you both?"

"lando," max warned. "please pretend like you never saw this."

"uhhh yeah, sure mate!" lando nodded but he was just about the least capable person you knew when it came to keeping secrets.

"i'm dead ass begging you to not tell anyone," you pleaded again.

"i won't."

✿

lando has added to his private story

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maxverstappen1: say 1 word and no more trips on air max

lando: mmmm i think id survive mate

maxverstappen1: lando im begging you. this was the first and only time this has ever happened and i think her and i need to figure out what’s going on before the whole paddock gets involved

lando: 🫣 you two are no fun!! tho i really think you both need to be honest with each other because i am fairly certain you both have a thing for the other one and i just need all this feuding to end

ynuser: you literally stepped out of the room 2 seconds ago!!!!!!

lando: and? i’m efficient

ynuser: lando you’re my best friend and all but don’t think i won’t pull a max and try to run you off the track if you leak this

lando: only if you kiss me afterwards

ynuser: UGH NO

lando: don’t worry i’m just making you both sweat i won’t explicitly tell anyone

ynuser: 😔😔😔😔 in the 15 years i’ve known you you have never once been able to keep a secret

lando: slander! i kept the secret when you hid max’s gloves in karting and he couldn’t find them

lando: now that i’m saying that … have you had a crush on him since karting?????????

ynuser: you did not keep that secret you gave them back to him and no!!!!! i don’t know!!! i don’t think so!!!

lando: ughhhhh you don’t think so?! how do you not remember girl

ynuser: i mean maybe i did! i was more focused on hating his guts because he wouldn't stop beating me

lando: sounds like a crush to me

ynuser: shut UP!! i need to process this

oscarpiastri: story time !

lando: YIPPEEEEEE

georgerussell63: TELL NE TELL ME TELLLLL MEEEEE

lando: i unfortunately can’t

georgerussell63: you’ve gotta be kidding me mate

lando: the subjects of the story have threatened my safety

georgerussell63: so the story involves max?

lando: HAHAHAHAHA

lando: it doesn’t not include max

georgerussell63: and from there i’m gonna guess it also involves y/n/n

lando: you’re too good george

georgerussell63: i’m gonna keep stewing on the rest of this story. will report back when i think i figure it out

maxfewtrell: is it even a question mate???

lando: well … no!

carlossainz55: spill the beans mi amigo

lando: technically not allowed to spill any beans but catch me in the paddock and i might whisper some hints

✿

thankfully, max’s place in monaco was only a short walk from your own. under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t have minded driving but in a place where everyone had a phone and every movement became a series of photos on some fan page as it often did in moncao, the last thing you needed was to be spotted pulling up to his building in one of your unmistakable cars. if someone clocked you heading toward the max verstappen’s apartment, alone, it wouldn’t take much for the internet to piece things together.

so instead of hopping into your mercedes, you opted for stealth. you dressed down in plain athletic shorts, a random hoodie you stole from george and a baseball cap repping some obscure american university with oversized sunglasses and headphones in, you looked more like a jet lagged tourist than a world-class driver sneaking off to see her biggest rival.

each step of the 1 km walk was filled with overthinking and stress. you kept replaying the past in your head, combing over all the little things max had done through the years, things you hadn’t ever though too hard about until now. maybe lando was right even though it pained you to admit that he may know something. max had unfortunately made it obvious you just hadn't been paying attention. from the karting days when he’d chase off any guy who got too close on track, to f3 when he picked fights with anyone who so much as looked at you twice in the paddock.

and then there was your 17th birthday party, mid-f3 season, when max had looked you dead in the eyes and told you you were the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. you thought he was just being nice since it was your birthday and you had a pretty rough race the day before but maybe he’d been serious. maybe you’d just been too naive to see it for what it was and too busy gaslighting yourself into believe max would never be interested in little old you.

you groaned under your breath, frustrated with yourself. how could you have missed all of it? you’d chalked up his distance after the f3 season to the pressures of moving up to f1 but maybe it wasn’t just that. maybe it was you.

by the time you reached his building and knocked softly on the door, your heart was already racing. there was a beat of silence then the sound of shuffling footsteps before the door swung open.

“you’re late,” max said, eyes scanning your face and outfit with that unreadable expression of his.

you glanced at your watch. “only by 2 minutes.”

he rolled his eyes and stepped aside to let you in. “can I get you anything? dinner’s still cooking.”

you slipped off your shoes and dropped your bag onto the counter, trying to steady your nerves. “just water.”

he moved through the kitchen quietly and when he placed the glass in front of you, he didn’t say a word just went back to stirring the pot on the stove. the silence was heavy and the tension was palpable.

without turning around he cleared his throat. “so… I wanted to talk and I thought it would be better face to face. so, thank you for coming.”

you nodded, picking nervously at your nails. “yeah. no problem.”

he turned off the burner and set the pot aside before finally facing you. “first off, i’m sorry. for spain that is... i shouldn’t have driven like that.”

you raised your hands slightly, voice soft. “it’s okay. we’ve both made dumb decisions on track.”

max shook his head. “yeah, but I could’ve hurt you. and if I had… i don’t know how I’d live with that.”

there was a moment of silence as his words sank in. “my behavior’s been childish,” he admitted. “i’ve been bitter and i'm fully ready to admit that i've also been jealous. i was so very jealous of the friendship you, lando and george had and still have and of how you're always able to light up a room when you walk into it and of how you so effortlessly always get everyone to like you."

"max-" you started before he continued.

"i know it sounds pathetic but i wanted nothing more than to be your friend all through karting and through f3. i did everything i could to try and get you to like me and i got so stupidly infatuated that i ended up messing it all up in the end. i just... i don't know... i pulled away after f3 because I was embarrassed. when I asked you out at that party and you rejected me, I didn’t know how to face you again. and then when you didn’t reach out either, i assumed you didn’t want me in your life anymore.”

“i didn’t realize you were asking me out,” you whispered. “i thought you just wanted to hang out as friends which we already did. and when you moved to f1, i figured… i just figured you wouldn’t want to waste time on someone stuck in f2. you were and are so good and focused and determined that i always felt intimidated and like a silly little distraction.”

max let out a short, breathy laugh. he ran a hand through his hair and leaned against the counter, still not fully looking at you. “god, we’re idiots,” he muttered and this time you cracked a small smile despite the lump in your throat.

“yeah,” you agreed softly. “world class athletes and total emotional amateurs.”

that got a quiet chuckle out of him, and finally, he brought himself to look at you. "why did you kiss me?" he asked and you could see the vulnerability written all over his face.

"because despite our silly year long feud which we apparently could have avoided, i haven't been able to let go of the crush i've had on you since we were kids."

he pushed off the counter, slowly stepping toward you. “so then you feel the same way about me?”

you looked up at him, heart hammering in your chest. “max… i--”

“i’m not asking for you to tell me that you love me or anything like that. not right now. i just want to stop pretending like i hate you. i want to stop turning every interaction into a fight because i don’t know how else to act around you. i want to be around you… properly. at the very least just as your friend.”

your stomach flipped at his words. all the years of missed chances and misread signals crashed into you like a wave. “and if i say i want that too?” you asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

he smiled it was soft and hopeful, a little nervous. “then i'll do everything in my power to do it right this time. starting by actually communicating my feels instead of bottling everything up.”

you stood from the stool, your steps slow but steady until you were right in front of him. “i guess i can give you a chance,” you said, teasing gently.

max raised a brow, a smile creeping to his lips. “just a chance?”

you let your head fall back with a laugh. “don’t push your luck, verstappen.”

he grinned, and for the first time in what felt like years, the tension that had formed between you began to finally unravel.

✿

f1 has made a post

liked by mercedesamgf1, lando, yourbff, redbullracing, isackhadjar, ynuser, yoursibling, maxverstappen1, and 834,222 others

f1: looks like our two favorite rivals have squashed their beef! y/n y/l/n and max verstappen arrived to the montreal paddock for media day together 👀🇨🇦

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user1: too worried about how shes out mogging him so hard to even be able to comprehend whats happening

lando: war is over! if only anyone listened to me EVER

danielriccardo: or me!! a certain dutch lion didn't listen to me either

lando: SMH

user2: not them walking in like they didn’t try to kill each other in spain 😭

geogerussell63: confused? ynuser unlock your driver room door rn i've been knocking for 3 whole minutes

ynuser: girl i'm not in there. i'm at the briefing YOU ARE ALSO SUPPOSED TO BE IN

georgerussell63: RUNNING

user63: nah i love yngeorge duo so much i wanna be their friend

lando: apparently everyone wants to be friends with y/l/nnorussell user63

ynuser: lando keep his mouth shut challenge failed

user63: WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?!

user3: we’ve entered the enemies to lovers era and i’m not emotionally prepared for this. i give it 3 more races till we get pics of them kissing behind the garages

isackhadjar: the plot twist of the century? are we being for real right now?

liamlawson31: i saw them with my own to eyes laughing together earlier

yukitsunoda0511: should we be afraid?

user4: this is why i trust slow burns. THIS is why!!!!

estebanocon: i’m scared

oscarpiastri: real

user5: now what in the fanfiction is this

skysportsf1 has posted an interview

view transcript

[reporter] “max, I have to start with the question everyone’s asking. you showed up to the paddock today with y/n y/l/n. should we be expecting fewer fireworks between you two this weekend?”

[max] “that depends. if she stops driving like shes in a demolition derby, maybe.”

[reporter] “so... not exactly a truce, then?”

[max] “we had a conversation and we’ve cleared a few things up.”

[reporter] “ok but things got heated after spain. you were both pretty vocal over the radio. what changed?”

[max] “sometimes you say things in the heat of the moment. doesn’t mean they’re the full story. we’ve known each other a long time and i think we forgot that for a while.”

[reporter] “so where does that leave things now?”

[max] “we’ll race like we always do. hard. but with a bit more respect, i think. maybe less screaming but who is to say.”

[reporter] “should we be reading into that very coordinated arrival this morning?”

[max] “you can read into whatever you want. i'm just here to win races.”

[reporter] “right, right. and if you win this weekend, will y/n be the first to congratulate you?”

[max] “she better be.”

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: i love a past friends to enemies to lovers fr. part 2 perhaps?????

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[lucinfernos]

the gang as humans cus i can't draw anything animal-related to save my life!!

some headcanons for the kids: - they're all 15 except susie, 16, who had to repeat a grade due to so many absences - susie has ARFID & PICA which is why she likes eating crazy stuff like chalk, pinecones and ice cubes. she also has PCOS! - noelle has a condition similar to vitiligo that gives her skin the deer-like light spots :) her legs are also a little bowed. - kris has selective mutism but is the loudest person in the room when they're with people they deem safe - kris's eyes always look like the way people's do when the camera flash is caught in photographs. nobody knows why, but their eyesight is great in the dark! - berdly has never thought about his sexuality and wouldn't really label it, either. he falls for the person (which... in this case is literally everyone) - berdly has a speech impediment caused by his overbite, particularly affecting his pronounciation of S and R, as well as braces (currently with blue bands). his eyesight is also abysmal. he refers to this set of issues as "having been nerfed when first spawned into the world" :p

[7-deadly-cats]

killing me softly | 18

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 (soon) ->

✿ 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, cursed chat pics, mention of abusive household (aka rafe's), hints at reader getting turned on lmao, gentleman!rafe, reader one sec away from hyperventilating, slightly jealous!reader, awkward!rafe (um.. you'll see why), also FLUFF

✿ S U M M A R Y O F L A S T P A R T ✿ after rafe dropped you off at the beach, cara dragged you to meet sarah, kiara and cleo. everyone was nice, though kiara questioned what was going on with you and rafe. in the restroom of bob's iceshack, cara admitted she wasn’t sure if she wanted to hook up with jj. your conclusion: she was torn between him and topper. later, rafe texted saying he saw sarah’s story and wanted to pick you up an hour later. after some back and forth, you agreed on 7:30pm. still, you couldn’t help but wonder why he was suddenly so eager. after hanging out with the pogues for a while, you dipped. john b offered a ride for tomorrow’s open air movie night. back in rafe’s car, he called them losers but backed off when you questioned it. after some pushing, he finally admitted he felt like everyone was choosing sarah over him. you tried to reassure him and concluded (internally) that ward cameron was the root for his issues. during your late night drive you got mcdonald’s, and finally, he dropped you off with a surprise: a my little pony bracelet from a gas station to prove he wasn’t playing you. in bed, you showed the bracelet to the girls in the new group chat. last surprise of the day: the mirror selfie from rafe aka the same one you’d stared at earlier.

✿ W O R D C O U N T ✿ 13.5k+ (longest chapter yet help + max use of chat screenshots so prepare for a LONG reading session)

✿ A / N ✿ GUYS I TRIED WITH THIS ONE BUT i kinda feel like the second half sucks, and also it feels extremely rushed if we take the pace of the other days of the week into consideration but well guess it wouldn't have made sense to drag out sunday for no reason. i also feel like i fucked up the ending by the direction i've chosen but i kinda gave up lmao. i probably could've explored the full potential of this setting and, IDK AHHHH. dw there's gonna be a part 2 of the event. anyway, have fun reading and PLEASE lmk what you think, this chapter gave me sm anxiety <3

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a little warning: avoid the comment section bc of spoilers 🤣

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W E E K O N E // S U N D A Y 1 1 : 1 7 A M

"Okay, where did we leave off again?" you asked Cara as you made yourself comfortable in your little windowsill nook. "My brain is so full, I can’t keep track of anything anymore."

Cara chuckled. "Oh, I know exactly what it’s full of. Mr. ‘Let me give the girl I like a friendship bracelet so it’s not too obvious that I’m completely down bad for her.’"

A giggle slipped out and your cheeks instantly flushed. "You're gonna lose it when I tell you this next part."

“She’s already losing it,” came a voice, and your heart dropped to your stomach.

OH MY GOD, now that you saw the wall behind Cara… NO WAY. GIRL ACTUALLY SPENT THE NIGHT IN JJS WONDERLAND OMGGGG.

Cara scoffed, amused, and turned her phone to show JJ pulling a shirt over his very bare chest. You were so glad he at least had boxers on.

“Say hi and get out,” she said.

JJ looked up with a “Hey, my room,” and winked into the camera with a big-ass grin when he spotted you. “She’s even louder in bed.”

Too. Much. Information.

You just stared, stunned, and gave him an awkward little smile.

Cara rolled her eyes and turned the phone back to her face. “Chop chop, Dig’s waiting for his morning walk.”

“Not sure the leash’s even usable anymore.”

GUYSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.

Cara stared flatly into the camera. “He's joking.”

OKAY THEN.

“Okay, okay. The leash only almost came into play,” JJ called out, followed by a loud “Hey!” as Cara threw a pillow at him.

“Out. Now. This is a girl-to-girl talk,” she said. “Village idiots not allowed.”

JJ chuckled. “More of a jester anyway.”

Then came a soft thud, which you took as him finally leaving the room.

“Okay, where were we?” Cara looked into the camera with a blinking smile.

You blinked back. “So, I guess, you don’t wanna—”

“Nope.”

“Aight.”

Cara cleared her throat. “Sooo, the last update I got from you and Loverboy is basically just what you'd said in your voice memo last night. He brought your bag back, then you guys spent the afternoon together. He dropped you off, picked you back up later, and by the end of the night practically proposed, right?”

Um… something like that.

You’d obviously left out a lot in that memo. As sweet and welcoming as the Pogue girls were, you’d literally only known them for a day, and you didn’t exactly feel comfy going full overshare just yet. And considering one of them was Rafe’s sister, you weren’t gonna bring up his little hate-rant about her or start gossiping about him behind his back.

But Cara was different. She was your best friend. You could tell her everything.

And you did. You told her about lunch with your parents, your trip to Bulk & Bloom and Barry’s pawn shop, your full-on spiral that you and Rafe had talked through in the car, and of course your evening trip to McDonald's and how he'd walked you to the front door like a freaking gentleman.

You did leave out his angsty little moment in the car, though. He’d opened up to you so honestly, you didn’t want to betray that trust. Plus, it felt… special. Like something just for the two of you.

But the important stuff? Oh, you shared that.

Your parents basically already adopting him, Barry’s well-meant warning, OH and obviously the insanely awkward moment when Rafe had caught you scrolling through his chat with Kelce.

AND OF COURSE, the most insane, messed-up, crazy thing he’d said: that you were a cute chick and he’d (quote) bend you over in the backseat of his car if you said the word.

“WHAT!?”

Your phone speaker peaked just a little.

You chuckled, cheeks flushed. “Well, yeah, he—”

“WHAT?”

Another laugh escaped your mouth. Cara stared at you, eyes wide and jaw dropped like you’d just told her Harry Styles invited you to his private villa.

“GIRL, I—” She exhaled like she’d just sprinted a marathon. “I don’t even… holy fucking shit, like, oh my Jesus Christ, good Lord and all the heavens above.”

When Cara started praying, you knew shit was actually insane.

You giggled. “Now imagine what was going on in my head. The fact I managed to function after that is honestly one of the seven wonders of the world.”

"The fact that you didn’t immediately jump him and rip his clothes off—that is the miracle," she shot back, still staring at you like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. "I MEAN WHAT? Like, my kitty would’ve gone straight to—"

“OKAY!”

Cara shook her head like a madwoman. “Y/N! That boy is so down bad for you, how do you not see it?” She sighed, shaking her phone. “Like HELLO? Rafe Cameron said out loud that he’s into you.”

"Sexual attraction and having a crush are two completely different things," you argued.

Cara frowned dramatically. “How oblivious do you wanna be? Yes.” You heard frantic tapping sounds as she smashed at her screen. “He gifted you a fucking bracelet. Rafe Cameron. The guy who’s known for doing absolutely nothing for any girl, like, ever. What more do you need? He said you’re cute. He said he likes you. He said he ENJOYS spending time with you. And what else? OH RIGHT, that he wants to hang out even after your little project dates are over AND THAT HE WANTS TO CLAP YOUR CHEEKS.” She shook her head like she was malfunctioning. “THIS SCREAMS GET READY TO BE MY GIRLFRIEND.”

Did it?

UM, YEAH, KINDA DID.

Fucking hell, Cara could really make even the most chaotic shit sound like it followed cold, hard logic.

But here's the thing: Rafe was a direct guy. If he had no problem saying he’d sleep with you, surely he wouldn’t have a problem saying he was into you like that (hypothetically speaking, of course).

Which kind of threw her whole argument out the window again.

You shook your head. “This sounds more like, ‘I’ve never had a female friend before, and now that I do, guess I’m gonna keep her around.’”

“So you do realize he wants you,” Cara replied.

You let out a tired sigh. “Yeah, I guess, but not like that. I don’t know how to explain it… I just think he likes the idea of having a girl around.” You tilted your head. “Like with Topper and Kelce, he’s this kinda toxic-bro-masculine-alpha type. And I guess he misses the fun flirty energy." Then you remembered his emotional outburst last night. “And I feel like with me, he also doesn’t put on a front. I don’t know.”

Cara stared you down, deadpan. “That is literally the ideal foundation for a relationship.”

“Or for a really good friendship,” you countered.

How were you supposed to explain to her that this poor boy probably just wanted someone to see him for who he really was? Like, the frustration he let out last night—the way he basically admitted, without saying it directly, that he was scared of being abandoned.

And that could always happen in a relationship. In a short-term hookup? Inevitable. But a good friend? Ideally, that was someone you could have for life. And the fact you were a girl—just a side note in the whole equation.

“Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah.” Cara rolled her eyes. “So what you’re telling me is, he puts in all this effort just so he can call you his friend and still flirt for fun? Make it make sense.”

"Yeah, but, C," you said with a chuckle. "That's literally how our friendship works too. We both put effort into each other, that’s what friends do, and don’t even get me started on the flirting. Like according to your logic, I should question your intentions as well."

Cara curled her lips. "... okay, you kinda have a point there."

You nodded with a See? look on your face.

"But," she continued, "we’re girl best friends. You and him? That’s a whole different thing."

You raised an amused brow. "Are you seriously trying to tell me that a guy and a girl can’t have a platonic relationship?"

Cara scowled. "No, of course not, but—"

"But I’m okay with the way it is," you said with a soft smile. "I have no problem with just being friends with Rafe. Honestly, it might even be better this way. I don’t have to worry about screwing it up, or God," you chuckled nervously, "all my other insecurities."

Cara let out a sigh. “You really are the biggest mystery to me, girl. You’ve been crushing on this guy since fifth grade. And now, when you finally have the chance to actually make something happen, like, he’s literally offering you the perfect foundation, you just settle for the easiest option.”

Less risk of being disappointed. Less chance of embarrassing yourself. Less chance to lose whatever it was you two had built in just a few days. Accepting Rafe as a friend was the easy choice, yeah, but it was also the safest.

But you knew exactly what Cara would say to that: she’d start pushing you to take a chance, make a move, break out of your shell for once.

"Okay, look at it this way," you said with a playful eye roll. "A relationship can always grow from a friendship. Does that help?"

You doubted that would actually happen, but at least it would shut Cara up for now.

She chuckled and wiggled her shoulders. "Friends to lovers? Uhh, now you got me." She raised her eyebrows with a lopsided grin. "So… does that also apply to us, orrrr…?"

You quickly steered the conversation back to her. More specifically her evening with the Pogues, dinner at the Chateau later on, and eventually the magical night she had with JJ. Kiara, Pope, and Cleo had left at some point, leaving just Cara, John B, Sarah, and JJ behind.

The exact details and noises from that night, however, Cara could gladly keep to herself.

Anyway, her dad called a little later to tell her to come home—her grandparents were visiting to celebrate her mom’s birthday belatedly. With a quick "Oh shit, we’ll text later", your little call came to an end.

You’d barely touched the ground with your feet, just getting off your windowsill corner and ready to change out of your sleepwear into something actually wearable, when your phone buzzed again.

And what greeted you? Yeah…

Geez, it wasn’t even noon and your pulse was already at 180.

First Cara fueling your delusions, then Rafe and his newfound hobby (or more like obsession) with your reaction pics (UM THE FACT THAT HE'D DOWNLOADED PINTEREST FOR IT???) and how he instantly went into full-attack mode just at the mention of you being in the girlies’ group chat, like bro, we get it, you’re terrified of abandonment but PLEASE CALM DOWN I AIN'T GOING NOWHERE. And then back to Cara, aka the fact that you’d now have to endure the drive to the open air event without her.

Honestly, that last part was the least of your worries because if you'd managed to survive half of Kelce’s party solo (okay, with Topper, Molly, and Rob), then you could totally handle a short car ride.

No, what really had you spiraling was how comfortable Rafe had gotten with you in just one day. Like, hello? First the mirror selfie last night, and then those reaction pics this morning (okay, more like noon, oops), AND THEN THE FACT THAT HE STRAIGHT UP ADMITTED (or hopefully joked) that he'd had a little private session this morning, DUDE COME ON.

HELP AND THE FACT THAT THAT SENT YOU INTO INSTANT BRAIN CINEMA MODE OF A HALF NAKED, HEAVY BREATHING RAFE, BOXERS AROUND HIS ANKLES, EYES CLOSED, HEAD PRESSED BACK INTO THE PILLOW OR DESK CHAIR (WHO KNEW), HAND AROUND HIS—NOPENOPENOPENOPEHELPPP

Jesus Christ, suddenly there was a tingling sensation in your lower body and the urgent need to open the windows to cool your body down because your cheeks? On fucking fire. Not even mentioning the heart rate and that warm, funny feeling between your—OKAY ENOUGH HOLY SHIT.

You gotta be ovulating or something because that? What the actual fuck.

HAHAHAHHAA ANYWAY.

Lunch.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

"How's Rafe?" That was one of the first questions your dad asked once you all sat down in the dining room.

Great. Not even here you could escape the topic.

To make things worse, both your mom and dad were giving you this smirky look that screamed You were out late last night: Should we be getting excited about our future son-in-law?

UGHHH. It was so awkward, and if you even dared to give a shy smile or deflect it, it would only make everything ten times worse.

So you just shrugged and poured yourself a glass of water. “He’s doing okay, I think.”

Your dad let out an amused breath. “And his cheek? That looked pretty nasty yesterday. He should’ve iced it right away, then it wouldn’t have swollen like that.”

Trust me, I told him.

“Yeah, it looks worse than it is,” you said, adding, “he popped an ibuprofen yesterday.”

He had, actually. Swallowed it right in the McDonald’s parking lot with a Coke Zero. Like seriously, how was this guy even still alive?

You half expected them to hit you with a “You two were gone a long time—what exactly were you doing?” or some other nosy questions. But instead, the energy at the table shifted.

Your mom raised her brows slightly, concern (???) flickering in her expression. “And… at home? Is everything okay there too?”

um… what.

Your dad seemed to catch the confusion on your face. “It’s just, we've been wondering...” he let out a dry chuckle, “I’ve seen bruises, cracked ribs, busted faces—pretty much everything—my whole career. And that bruise? If he’d actually been hit with a golf club, I probably would've been patching him up in the ER Friday night.”

Oh. So your dad had seen right through Rafe's lie.

Well, of course, he had. Taking care of people was his job. He had to know the difference between different kinds of wounds and bruises.

But from the way your parents were hinting at it… did they actually think Rafe was getting hit at home? That was… wow.

But telling them what really happened aka Rafe almost starting a fight—you really didn’t want to paint him in that light. Didn’t matter that he’d stood up for you.

“No idea,” you said, furrowing your brows as you poked around your plate. “I think things are fine at home too.”

Your mom tilted her head with a soft smile. “But you don’t know for sure?”

Your overthinking, spiraling, constantly-needing-answers issue? Mhm, yeah, you definitely got that from her.

“No, I mean, I barely know him,” you replied. “Are you seriously thinking he’s getting abused at home or something?”

Then again… okay, you didn’t know Ward personally, but something in your gut told you there was something off about him. Especially after the realization you'd had last night: Him probably being the root of Rafe’s issues.

Your dad leaned back. “Well, speaking as a dad, I’ve got a feeling there’s tension at home. I’m not accusing Ward of hitting his kids, I’m just guessing Rafe’s relationship with him is… strained.” He shifted in his seat. “And my gut? It’s never been wrong.”

O-kay. So apparently your parents had picked up on the same thing after interacting with Rafe once. Wow.

“Ward’s always been a difficult person,” your mom added. “Back in college, he was super ambitious, driven, competitive. Always pushing. Expecting the best results from himself and everyone around him. And anyone who held him back or got in his way? Didn’t stay in his way for long.”

Obviously he hadn’t killed anyone, so you just assumed he either threatened, manipulated, or schemed his way around people.

Your mom sighed. “And truth is, I know Rafe’s not exactly an easy kid. Rose told me he often takes off for hours and doesn’t come home until midnight. And school? Apparently not going so great either.”

Something about talking about Rafe behind his back like this… it just didn’t feel right.

“Rose isn’t his mother, though.” Shit. What a dumb thing to say.

Your mom furrowed her brows. “She tries to be. It’s not easy for someone like her to reach someone like Rafe.”

"Someone like him? "You raised your brows.

What the hell was that supposed to mean? And why were you suddenly feeling so defensive, HELP.

“Y/n,” your dad’s voice was gentle but firm. “Rafe seems like a good boy, I’m not doubting that. But it just feels like… something’s off. And the most likely explanation is that things at home aren’t exactly stable.”

He pressed his lips together, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. “I’m not trying to accuse Ward of anything or scare you, but… when I wanted to check the skin on Rafe’s cheek, he flinched when I raised my hand to do so. Not a dramatic reaction, just this quick startled blink, but in my head, every alarm bell went off.”

And that made your heart clench in the worst, most painful way.

Sure, maybe your dad had misread a harmless blink or twitch but deep down, you knew that wasn’t it. And the thought that Rafe might actually be getting hit by his own dad… GOSH, THIS BOY.

Drug problems, anger issues, and a toxic household? This guy didn’t need a girlfriend, he needed a loving family.

No. He needed a real dad.

“That doesn’t mean the bruise had to have come from home,” your dad continued, and his tone softened a little. “Honestly, I just assume he got into some testosterone-fueled fight at whatever party you were at.” He chuckled. “Thinking back to the way I used to look after I boxed with the guys from the 44th… that bruise is practically a scratch.”

Not your dad just casually dropping new lore.

Your mom rolled her eyes, mock-annoyed, the corners of her lips twitching with a smile. “I was the one who had to play nurse back then.”

OKAY NOPE YOU DID NOT LIKE THAT SMILEY LOOK ON HER FACE. DID NOT NEED TO KNOW THAT.

Luckily, your dad circled back to the actual point: “We’re just concerned. We’re both parents—we notice when something’s off with a kid. As a doctor who’s seen lots of children with seemingly perfect parents, I can tell you: eyes never lie. And Ward may be a great family man, but that doesn’t automatically make him a great father.”

He let out a heavy breath. “Abuse can show up in so many ways, not just physically. So if you ever notice anything, please don’t hesitate to come to us, okay?”

Well, this sunny Sunday just got very not sunny, very fast. Like… how did we go from “How’s your hopefully-soon-to-be boyfriend?” to child abuse—HELLO??

You didn’t even know what to say.

You were touched by their concern, the way they weren’t judging Rafe in the slightest. But also overwhelmed by how heavy the topic had just gotten. Sure, your parents did always notice this kind of thing right away but now that your suspicions had basically been confirmed by them...

Yeah, that didn’t sit well with you at all.

Of course, none of you really knew what was going on in the Cameron household. But if all of you had arrived at roughly the same conclusion, then either you were all operating on the same overthinking, assume-the-worst type of brain…

Or something was actually going on.

Both, you thought bitterly.

So all you did was nod with a somewhat forced smile and said, “Okay.”

Your parents nodded, seemingly relieved. And of course, since you were already on the topic of Rafe, they circled back to yesterday. Asking questions like, “So where did you guys go afterward?”, “How’s your school project coming along?”, “Did Cara give you that cute bracelet?” and dropping comments like, “He seemed very smiley around you,” and “Feel free to invite him over for dinner again.”

And just when the conversation was dangerously close to veering into the Safe Sex territory, you excused yourself from the table, mentioned that you’d be going to the Open Air tonight, brought your plate to the kitchen, and thanked Mary for the food.

Back in your room, you exhaled.

Wow. Apparently, there was no such thing as a break this week. But the fact that your parents thought you and Rafe would look cute together? AKCKKANFALJKD.

Also, the whole thing about how you both apparently glowed around each other? If Cara had said that? Yeah well, no, delusional queen just back again with her delusions. But your parents? Who were basically professionals when it came to reading people—your dad being a literal doctor, and your mom a CEO in sales, aka someone who had to be good with people—If they said Rafe liked you?

Fuck, then it had to be true.

Okay okay, he had kinda already said it twice himself—once just yesterday in the car—but STILL OMGMGM.

Okay okay, calm the fuck down.

You just became friends, no need to start building your wedding Pinterest board.

You played with the bracelet around your wrist as you sat down at your desk, smiling to yourself like a damn idiot at the soft rustling sound.

The way it fit just right around your wrist and how FUCKING CUTE IT LOOKED. Gosh, the fact that Rafe had thought of you when he'd spotted it, and then actually bought it for you and gave it to you AHHHHHH. AND JESUS, THEN HE'D BEEN ALL CUTE AND AWKWARD AND NERVOUS WHEN HE'D HANDED IT TO YOU.

HELLO??? Rafe fucking Cameron being awkward AND nervous around you??? As much as that made the butterflies in your stomach go into full freak-out mode, more than anything, it made you feel like a total winner lol.

I’m fine. I’m cool. Completely chill.

SMNJXWNDVHSJDKMXOIASJCDAVLSAÖ.

You would never get over this.

Well, you had to at least try for the next few hours. Because more important than giggling to yourself in your room like some hopelessly lovesick little girl was actually getting ready for tonight.

Okay, it was barely past 1 PM, buuuut you’d gladly take all the time you could get.

Sooo, Cara was probably busy with family stuff right now—spending the day with her grandparents and parents and all—so yeah, no chance of calling her.

Molly maybe? You knew she was also coming tonight because you’d heard her talking about it at Kelce’s party. AND HOLY SHIT YOU DESPERATELY NEEDED TO KNOW WHAT WENT DOWN BETWEEN HER AND KELCE OGMGMGM.

Never mind. Her little Bitmoji was currently chilling at Kelce’s place on the map, so there was your answer.

So Molly was out too. Sure, she’d probably be happy to chat with you—hell, Kelce too probably—but you didn’t want to interrupt these lovebirds (hookup partners??? soon-to-be-married??? WHO KNEW).

Hm. Okay.

Six hours until the boys were picking you up.

Well, you could always sit out on your balcony and sketch a little. You hadn’t really had the chance lately. The past few days had kept you on your toes so much that you'd barely had the energy to sketch a stick figure. And on top of that, the art project with Rafe had kinda sucked most of your creative brain juice dry too.

Senior Year was already a lot and it had barely even started yet. And now The Gloaming was right around the corner—next Friday, to be exact—and well, you were really not looking forward to that.

Midsummers was at least really nice, casual and fun. Dressing up in cute summery dresses, getting tipsy on overpriced prosecco and wine, giggling over boys in suits, and it just had this soft, fairycore kind of vibe to it.

The Gloaming, on the other hand? A school event.

Unlike Midsummers, it wasn’t held at the Cameron Estate, but at a big event venue on the North Side near the beach. One the mayor himself dubbed “Garden Eden.”

It was purely a Kook event, which… yeah, made sense, since it was organized by the Kildare Academy, which was technically a Kook school. But like, couldn’t they have at least teamed up with the South Side High School?

Sure, some Pogues would show up but only as workers. Bartenders, cooks, waiters, janitors who had to clean up everyone’s mess the next morning.

Anyway, this whole class division thing was deeply rooted in the Outer Banks. No point in getting all worked up about it.

And the worst part about The Gloaming? The absolutely RIDICULOUS amount of GOSSIP surrounding it. Gossip at KA was always present, but for some reason, this event turned everyone into real-life Gossip Girl contestants or whatever.

Who went with whom, who cheated on who, who wore the cheapest dress, whose parents were getting divorced, which guy bagged the most girls, and a bunch of other completely braindead nonsense you honestly wanted to stay far, far, far away from.

Unfortunately, your parents loved going. Catching up with old classmates, schmoozing, socializing, and Cara did too. So yeah, they always dragged you along. Plus, it was basically an unofficially mandatory high school event. No way you were risking a dip in your GPA just because you skipped it.

SPEAKING OF GPA.

SHIT.

Shitshitshitshitshit. THE MATH TEST TOMORROW.

Fuck.

You’d completely forgotten. Mrs. Richman had even given your class a friendly reminder last Monday.

Shit.

Well yeah, of course you’d blocked it out. Right before that class, Mr. Smith had put you in a project group with Rafe, and that had basically hijacked your entire brain.

Okay, okay, okay. No panic.

You’d sit down now, study a bit for the next five hours and thirty minutes, and then you’d still have half an hour to get ready for the Open Air.

HAHAHAHAHA TOTALLY DOABLE.

That was, if Rafe wasn’t constantly sending you random reaction pics slash memes slash kinda very suggestive fairycore-slash-emo-wolf pics.

Apparently, Pinterest was his new hobby.

Good for him (and honestly, kinda cute), but not for you. You had a math test to prep for.

And as much as you wanted to send stuff back because RAFE USING THOSE PICS IN THE FIRST PLACE AHHHHHH, you really couldn’t afford to fail math.

So you decided it was time to shut down his spamming.

With a laugh, you switched your phone to airplane mode and set it on the edge of your desk. No reply, because this would go on forever if you didn’t put a stop to it yourself.

This seriously required your maximum amount of self-control not to keep texting him, because GOSH, this felt like some kind of cute little silly version of Rafe.

You basically had the privilege of witnessing firsthand how he discovered Pinterest for himself—or, well, the cursed side of it—and all that just because of you. It was kinda wholesome. Like a dumb little boy realizing for the first time that dinosaurs were cool.

GIRL, STOP DRIFTING OFF.

You seriously needed to focus now. (Well, not your fault Rafe kept spamming your phone hihihihi.)

So you kinda half-focused, somehow managed to study your math book, worked through a few exercises, and even half a practice test until you finally gave up around 5:30—because, in the back of your mind, Rafe and the Open Air event kept spinning in loops.

You’d totally have some more time to study later tonight or tomorrow morning.

Hahahaha. Yes. Definitely.

You turned the airplane mode off again and—Jesus Christ. 200+ messages from the girls' chat and 33 from Rafe.

You quickly skimmed through both.

The girls were just discussing plans, departure times, pre-drinks yes or no, who should be picked up first, some opinions on the movie choice for tonight (Barbie), and other stuff you kinda just skimmed past (sorry girlies, I'm in a rush).

And Rafe? A bunch of cursed and weird-ass pics that just got progressively worse, him complaining about not being able to get rid of them, plus some teasing about you being a nerd because you were studying on a Sunday, bla bla. You left those on read too. (Not sorry about it.)

You jumped in the shower, dried off fast, and dumped a whole load of clothes onto your bed. Because—

WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU SUPPOSED TO WEAR TONIGHT AHHH.

Okay okay, the basic facts:

Occasion: Open Air Movie Festival When: Evening/night Movie: Barbie (main movie) and then Transformers Weather: Actually nice, sunny, warm, but a little breezy People: Both Kooks and Pogues, maybe even some Tourons

Conclusion: I DON’T FUCKING KNOW.

Something casual and chill would be the smart move, considering you’d probably be sitting or lying most of the time. Best to throw on a jacket too, just in case. There’d probably be blankets, but still.

And of course, no sweatpants look.

You kinda wanted to dress up a bit, but still keep the vibe right. OKAY NO YOU JUST WANTED TO LOOK PRETTY. With Rafe being there and... yeah. Just Rafe.

Shit.

Now it’s official. You were picking your outfit based on a guy.

A guy you didn’t even need to impress, because, well, technically you were friends now. And you didn’t dress up for friends… right?

Okay, maybe you did it for special occasions. But you didn’t hope that said friend liked your outfit and maybe... MAYBE gave you a compliment.

NOOOOOO I’M FALLING BACK INTO MY DELUSION HOLE AHHHH.

HOW COULD YOU NOT? HIM SAYING HE’D BE DOWN TO BEND YOU OVER KIND OF IMPLIED HE’S ATTRACTED TO YOU AT LEAST A LITTLE SO…

…SO WHAT NOW?

Were you the one sending mixed signals now by dressing up a little even though you’d made it clear you weren’t into short-term hookups?

...maybe.

Anyway. HAHAHAHAHAHAHHA (i’m going crazy.)

You tried on some different outfits, scattering your clothes all over the room, and in the end, narrowed it down to two options—both of which included a dress. Because YEAH WHY NOT.

One was more chill and the other a little cuter, but both showed some leg hihihi.

You took pics of both and were just about to send them to Cara for input when Sarah beat you to it:

These girls, dude. Feeding into your delusions without a single shred of shame.

Also, holy shit, they all looked so fucking gorgeous in the outfits they’d picked out. Now you had an even harder time choosing which one you should go with.

Okay, no time left. It was already almost 6:30.

So, a coin toss it would be.

You assigned each outfit to one side of the coin, then flicked that thing up into the air, nearly smacked yourself in the forehead trying to catch it, but managed to trap it between your hands and…

That should do.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

"Shiiii, look at you." Kelce was the first to speak as you opened the door of the white Range Rover parked outside your house.

Rafe had called you 10 minutes earlier to say they were on their way. You’d thrown your things together in a rush, said goodbye to your parents (who wished you a fun night), and waited in the driveway because no way were you risking one of them ringing the bell and getting wrapped into some awkward parent chat.

You smiled shyly and gave them a soft “Hey” as you slid into the seat behind Topper’s, next to Molly. Kelce was next to her, and Rafe sat in the passenger seat up front (of course, sitting in the back would’ve probably bruised his ego).

"That dress suits you so well," Molly said with a warm smile, and you chuckled.

She looked so unbelievably sweet herself. Her red curls hung wildly on her shoulders, and her red lipstick made the whole color pop even more. She was wearing the cutest pastel green skirt and a white corset blouse you'd ever seen and KELCE’S HAND WAS RESTING ON HER THIGH AJDNJKWNJDKW

And Kelce? Wearing a pink shirt, probably to match the Barbie movie but honestly, they looked like COSMO AND WANDA and it was just SO SWEET.

"Thank you," you said, unable to hide your grin. "I love your outfit too."

Kelce squeezed her thigh (AND SHE CHUCKLED) and added, "I deserve half the credit, I helped her pick it."

You could practically feel how much Rafe wanted to gag. Also… you felt a little (a lot) disappointed that he'd only turned his head once to glance at you without saying a word, BUT NOT GONNA LET THAT RUIN YOUR MOOD RIGHT :))))))

"So, Cara’s already gotten a ride, I heard," Topper said, the bitterness in his voice slicing straight through the mood.

You fiddled with your bag strap and nodded. "Well, yeah, she’s..." Shit. You didn’t actually know what excuse she’d given Topper, considering she was riding with John B.

"She prefers hanging out with little Pogue rats now," Rafe finished for you, dry amusement in his tone.

You couldn’t help but frown. If it was already starting like this…

"Ayo, bro," Kelce said with a chuckle, kicking Rafe’s seat. "You better behave tonight. Keep going like that and you’ll end up with a Dalmatian face full of bruises."

Wow, how was Kelce the voice of reason here? Internally, you were thankful because it meant you didn’t have to address it yourself.

Rafe scoffed and shook his head. "Not holding back if one of those fuckers starts provoking me."

Are we sure you’re not the one starting things, boy?

“Dude, don’t make me play peacemaker tonight,” Kelce shot back. “Gotta concentrate on my date.”

Molly chuckled, and you did too. THEY WERE SO CUTE.

Then your heart sank as Kelce leaned forward, pointing toward Rafe with his thumb while looking at you. "Your job tonight."

…What?

You blinked and smiled awkwardly.

“It’s not hard,” Kelce went on with a grin full of white teeth. “Keep him hydrated, stop him from talking to people, and bring up golf every now and then. That usually distracts him.”

Topper and Molly both laughed, and oh god, it was so hard not to laugh too as Rafe turned around with a scowl—first looking at you, then at Kelce.

"You’re gonna be the first fucker I beat up tonight," Rafe said, crooked grin on his lips.

Kinda cute how he always acted like Kelce pissed him off when in reality they had this weirdly wholesome friendship behind the scenes.

Kelce held up his hands as Rafe turned back around. "Ayy, thought you might appreciate the company of a pretty lady."

PLEASE.

Your cheeks heated up because that sounded dangerously like Kelce trying to play wingman or matchmaker, and somehow that made the whole situation SO FREAKING AWKWARD.

"I'd appreciate if you shut the fuck up," Rafe said, still frowning as he looked straight ahead.

This boy was so dramatic, holy shit.

THEN AGAIN, HE HADN’T DENIED WHAT KELCE HAD SAID, SO CLINGING TO THAT FACT HAHAHAAH #goingmoreinsanebytheday.

Topper cleared his throat. "So, uh, back to Cara..."

That earned a round of groans from everyone.

After some teasing of Kelce and Rafe, and some attempts at cheering Topper up by Molly and you, you all got tired of that topic (thank god because you just felt so bad for Topper), and a few minutes later you arrived at your destination anyway.

The huge gravel parking lot was already filled with cars. Some girl was directing Topper in and assigning him a spot for his big-ass Range Rover, which, as you’d found out, happened to be his mother’s.

As the engine shut off, everyone got out. Kelce helped Molly out of the car, and Topper held the door open for you while you struggled a little with your dress.

"Thanks," you said with a polite smile and slung your bag over your shoulder.

Topper looked like he was about to say something (judging by his expression, probably trying to get a moment alone with you to talk about Cara), but Rafe suddenly appeared at his side, grabbing his shoulder with a crooked grin.

"Aight, enough whining about Hall," he said, nodding toward the entrance. "Cheer the fuck up and go find another chick inside. Or go annoy Kelce and Molly, I don't give a shit, but stop dragging us into it."

Such tact. Truly award-worthy. Though, to be fair, that actually sounded like Rafe’s version of wanting his friend to feel better.

Topper pressed his lips together, clearly debating whether to argue, but in the end, he just sighed and nodded. "I'll go join the others."

With that, he walked off.

As much as you felt sorry for him, it wasn’t your place to speak for Cara’s feelings, so you were actually kinda thankful for Rafe’s little lifeline.

SPEAKING OF RAFE.

Dude was eyeing you with the smuggest grin ever, blue eyes locked on yours before letting his gaze drop down your outfit (and soul, the way his stares always felt so intense) for a second.

And the way he just nodded, his eyes landing back on yours, DUDE WHAT.

"What?" Heat rose to your cheeks and you smiled sheepishly.

Rafe shook his head, lips tugging into a downward smile. "Nothing. Just curious who you dressed up for."

HUH. NOT HIM CALLING YOU OUT LIKE THIS. THIS WAS SO FUCKING EMBARRASSING BYE.

You let out a nervous chuckle and shook your head too. "Myself?"

Somehow, you both seemed to know that was bullshit, and now you just kinda wanted to curl up into fetal position and stay there for the next one billion years.

"Bold choice for a self-date," Rafe said with a shit-eating grin.

You couldn’t tell if that was a compliment or a smooth way of saying, “Next time, pick something else.”

Hey, I kinda wanna die right now.

"Shit, don’t look at me like that." Rafe chuckled boyishly. "You look good, alright? That dress suits you."

...

:)

EDNCSKJDXCHNFEWJSKLFCHNVDLAKGSNJVSÖKLFDHXUVWDIUEOPSAXM;POSWLSCKUCJGFKD

Cheeks hotter than the sun, but you didn’t care because OH MY GOD. You couldn’t even hide your smile, and you also didn’t care that you probably looked like some stupid fucking idiot while doing it, but WHO CARED.

"Thank you," you said, gripping the strap of your bag.

AND THEN you mustered up the courage to look him over as well. Not as obviously as he had, because that guy just seemed to have zero shame, but well, you did appreciate the view.

Even if he was wearing one of his probably thousand polo shirt variations again, it suited him just as well as the other 999. Paired with some more or less basic white shorts that really showed off the tan on his legs and some matching white Dior B57 sneakers.

Kinda low effort but that guy pulled it off like crazy. And him deciding to wear his hair as curtain bangs again BECAUSE OF YOU (yes, you'd never forget how he’d admitted that yesterday) kinda made your heart rate shoot up even higher.

Rafe raised his brows when you met his eyes again, and you felt caught and awkward, but still, you managed to say, "Looking fresh yourself."

That made the cutest laugh escape his lips, and you could literally feel the butterflies in your stomach dancing to that soft sound.

"I'm just gonna assume that’s a weirdly executed compliment and you're not just making fun of me," Rafe said with a lopsided smile.

You shrugged. "Maybe it’s both."

"Aight." Rafe then eyed your jacket. "Might wanna take that off though. They’ve got blankets and stuff in there, you know."

You let out a soft laugh, raising your brows. "And I’m just gonna assume this is your weird way of caring about me being comfortable and not just a way to get me undressed."

DID YOU ACTUALLY JUST SAY THAT OMMGMFMMF.

Rafe himself was the biggest confidence boost you could get, and his boldness kinda rubbed off on you.

He chuckled. "It’s both."

ALRIGHT, DUDE.

Okay, honestly, you were kinda starting to sweat under the jacket. First, it was still super warm despite the time, and second, Rafe’s flirty comments (yes, let’s just call them that) were turning your entire body into a heatwave.

With flushed cheeks, you let out a soft giggle and awkwardly tried to take off your jacket while still holding onto your purse without dropping both.

"Jesus, give that shit to me," Rafe said, grabbing your purse with one hand while helping you out of your jacket with the other.

"Ayo, you lovebirds coming?" Kelce’s voice boomed from a few steps ahead. "Seats are filling up, you’ll have to share one soon!"

UGHHH PLEASEEEE DON'T MAKE THIS EVEN MORE AWKWARD.

"Gonna kill that fucker someday," Rafe muttered as he handed you your purse back, eyeing the bracelet on your wrist with a silent smile.

You chuckled sheepishly and slung your bag back over your shoulder, blinking in confusion when he kept holding onto your jacket.

Rafe's gaze drifted over your now-exposed upper half for a second before he looked back at you with a smug grin, tilting his head toward the others. "Come on, before I lose interest in the movie altogether."

DUDE. You REALLY had to get used to this kind of apparently harmless flirting without immediately spiraling into that one very specific overthinking rabbit hole. Like—he couldn’t just make comments like that and then--

The sudden touch of his hand on your back yanked you out of your thoughts, a buzzing warmth settling over your whole body. He gave you a gentle nudge forward and you fell into step beside him, already missing the heat of his hand the second he let it fall away.

As soon as you reached the ticket booth, it found its place again as Rafe softly guided you past the grumpy-looking line toward Kelce, Topper, and Molly.

"Finally," Kelce said with a wide grin as he took two tickets. "Thought you—"

"Shut your ass and keep moving," Rafe cut in, softer than usual.

Topper was up next and followed the other two through the archway. Muffled voices and soft music already drifted from inside.

You reached for your wallet automatically, but Rafe had already stepped in front of you, placing your jacket on the counter. "Two tickets, and this to coat check."

You blinked. "You don't have to—"

"Yeah, yeah," Rafe said, eyes focused on his wallet as he handed the cashier forty dollars. "Keep the change."

No way. He was paying for you again AND tipping the kid behind the counter twenty-five dollars?? First the McDonald’s food and now this? What, why, how.

Plus, um ... you kinda needed that jacket later…

Rafe took two pink tickets and a tag with the number 69, grinning like a five-year-old (grow up please), and handed you one. "Just shut up and take it."

And you did (with a "Thank you" nonetheless) while your heart practically exploded in all directions. Then you followed him through the archway onto the event space.

Dozens of people were already scattered across the area—locals and even some tourons—chit-chatting, laughing, lounging in groups or pairs. Some had already claimed a spot in front of the massive screen on floor cushions or deck chairs. A few had even brought their own blankets and pillows.

To the side were the restrooms and food stalls selling popcorn, nachos, and other snacks, plus all kinds of drinks from water to vodka-energy, and a variety of rental blankets and pillows.

And strung up between trees and posts were dozens of fairy lights and pink paper lanterns (clearly Barbie was the more anticipated movie tonight). It looked gorgeous, and cozy, especially now with the sun halfway down the horizon.

Which, as a matter of fact, made the whole setting feel... a little too intimate.

The others were nowhere to be seen, and it was just you and Rafe now, standing near the entrance. And the fact that he'd been all gentlemanly earlier didn’t help—THIS ALMOST FELT LIKE A FUCKING DATE, JESUS CHRIST.

OKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOK CALM DOWN. JUST LOOK AROUND, MAYBE I CAN SPOT--

"I guess you'll want some snacks and shit like that."

Your head snapped back to him, suddenly very aware of how exposed you felt without your jacket, without Topper, Kelce, or Molly AROUND AND AHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAH.

The only thing grounding you was the bag on your shoulder, which you were now holding onto like your life depended on it.

"Um, yeah, sure," you said, internally begging your brain to chill the fuck out.

WHY DIDN’T HE CARE WHERE THE OTHERS WERE THOUGH??? HELLOOO YOUR FRIENDS ARE GONE, PLEASE LOOK FOR THEM.

With a simple "Aight, come on" from Rafe, you followed him toward one of the snack stands, trying to maintain a respectful distance.

This time, there was no one for Rafe to cut in front of, so the two of you just stood there AND YOUR BRAIN COMPLETELY BLANKED ON EVERY TOPIC KNOWN TO MAN.

How was he so chill while you almost debated asking him what brand of microwave he’d recommend because you LITERALLY had nothing else to think of HELP.

Nervously, you hugged yourself, trying to ground yourself by gently pinching the skin on your upper arm.

"You cold?"

You met his raised eyebrows and instinctively dropped your hands, giving him a small, smiley shake of your head. "Wh—no. No."

Rafe eyed you for a long second before saying, "You're being weird."

NOT HIM CALLING YOU OUT OH MY GOD.

"You're always weird, but this is weird-weird," he added, dry amusement in his tone.

You let out a strained chuckle. "Okay, maybe I am kind of cold."

ughhhhhhhhhhhh. Please believe me, please believe me, please—

"Well, then we’ll buy a fucking blanket. Jesus Christ, you gotta chill."

oKAY.

WAIT—WE?!?!?!?!?!

You had zero time to spiral over that because suddenly, you two were up. WAIT—YOU TWO??? NO. RAFE. RAFE WAS NEXT. HELP. WHAT’S GOING ON.

He ordered some nachos with salsa dip and a large diet coke and then turned to you with an expectant expression.

WHAT. NO FUCKING WAY.

No no no no no no. Him paying AGAIN felt so insanely weird for no reason. You stepped forward and grabbed your wallet, and he looked at you like you just insulted his entire bloodline.

"That's some disrespect," he said, raising an eyebrow, though the amusement in his tone was undeniable.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. "I just... you really don’t have to—"

"Shit, only thing I wanna hear right now is your order," he cut you off, and the cashier's barely hidden smile just made the whole thing ten times more awkward.

And because you really didn’t want to drag this painfully awkward situation out any longer, you just told her your snack and drink choice.

Rafe placed two twenty-dollar bills on the counter and added, "And a blanket. Large."

The pretty cashier girl glanced between the two of you, lifting a brow with clear amusement. "We only have small ones left."

YOU’VE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME.

PLEASE ASK FOR TWO. PLEASE FUCKING ASK FOR TWO.

"Yeah, well, one of those then."

[Insert brain explosion sound here.]

You could literally feel the adrenaline flooding your body, nerves tingling and buzzing, butterflies flying around all confused and bumping into each other like WHAT DO YOU MEAN ONE.

You kinda felt like hyperventilating but all you did was smile with the most strained expression because what :) else :) were :) you :) supposed :) to :) do :)?????!?!??!!

Rafe took the change and shouldered the blanket bag over one strap, then reached for his snack order.

You grabbed yours too and followed him, your nerves shot to hell. You honestly felt like some helpless prey knowing it was about to get devoured but having no idea when.

Your cheeks burned hot and you were pretty sure your blood pressure was sky-high, except you had no idea why you were freaking out so much. All you could hear was your own heart pounding in your chest and ears.

You almost didn’t even notice that Rafe had stopped, or rather, that he’d been stopped.

Wait, no. Rafe had stopped because you’d been stopped.

Cara had grabbed your arm, halting you in your tracks, a huge grin on her face as she greeted you both.

Shit. And JJ was next to her, waving with a smile.

Your half-panic attack vanished instantly, now replaced with a new, different anxiety: Rafe freaking out, saying some dumb shit, or worse, starting actual shit with JJ. Or JJ not keeping his mouth shut. Or even worse, the other Pogues showing up.

But they didn’t. And all Rafe did was...stay quiet, other than giving Cara a casual "'Sup."

WHICH MADE YOU ALL THE MORE CONFUSED BECAUSE WHAT THE FUCK WAS UP WITH HIM TODAY.

"Already said hi to Kelce and Molly," Cara said, eyeing you with a grin that basically screamed I-see-one-blanket-and-your-jacket’s-missing-soooo-wink-wink. "Also spotted Topper, but didn’t wanna interrupt his chit-chat with Ruthie."

RUTHIE’S HERE? OF COURSE SHE’S HERE.

Rafe scoffed. "He’s salty 'cause you turned him down."

Cara blinked, genuinely looking a little guilty. "I didn’t turn him down. I just already promised someone else I’d join their group. And last I checked, his car only has five seats anyway."

"Could’ve thrown Kelce in the trunk," Rafe shrugged.

Dude.

"Or someone could’ve gotten cozy on a lap," JJ added with a smirk. Directed at you.

DUDE.

Rafe finally tensed and you found yourself relaxing (girl, are you okay???) because that was a sign he wasn’t some polite and gentleman-programmed clone of himself.

But before he could snap at JJ, Cara stepped in. "Or Topper could stop acting like a drama queen just because I turned down his invite," she said with a frown, though you knew better. She felt bad.

Rafe tilted his head, and the air shifted in a way you did not like. Great. Now you had to de-escalate this?

"I’m sure he’d still appreciate it if you say hi later," you said with a smile that was clearly meant to signal pls-this-is-getting-weird-fast.

Cara, thank god, got the message and sighed dramatically. "Guess you’re right." Then she looked at her wrist like there was a watch. "Oh no, movie’s starting soon. Gotta grab our snacks before we miss out."

Oscar goes to her for sure.

You just nodded, smile still strained. "Right."

"Okay, see you two later!" she grinned at both of you, then grabbed JJ by the arm and dragged him off toward the food stalls.

Bomb successfully defused.

You turned back to Rafe and he looked at you with a boyish grin. "Didn’t know she had piercings."

Wh—OH. WHAT.

You stared at him blankly.

Had he seriously checked out her tits? Okay, no judgment, like Cara had gone braless today and her boobs looked legitimately perfect—like GODDESS-LEVEL—in that pink dress of hers, and even you couldn’t help but notice the second she'd walked up but...

You didn’t like that Rafe had.

Of course, of course he could look. He was a guy after all, and what else did they ever see beyond tits and ass, and yeah, Cara was an absolute bombshell, but…

Hm.

HM.

A weird feeling spread through your stomach and the butterflies just kinda sat there now, not sure what to do or how to feel.

"Well, yeah, I guess," you said, and it was so painfully obvious how the slight bitterness in your voice still came through. So you tried to compensate with a smile, but you probably looked like someone being held at gunpoint. "She got them a few weeks ago."

Rafe seemed way too entertained by that and just nodded with a wide grin. "Bet that hurt."

"It’s a sensitive area, so... yeah," you replied, trying to sound casual and failing miserably.

An awkward silence started creeping in, adding to the sudden clenching in your chest, and you felt huge secondhand embarrassment for yourself. For being JEALOUS of your own best friend, especially when you and Rafe weren’t even a couple in ANY WAY and just UGHHHH.

Can I be normal for ONE FUCKING SECOND, please.

"Ayo, Rafe!" Kelce’s voice suddenly echoed from somewhere deeper inside the event space.

You and Rafe both looked up and spotted him somewhere between the seating area in front of the screen, waving with both arms.

Relief washed over you, and without waiting for any comment from Rafe, you started walking toward Kelce through the rows of bean bags, lounge chairs, and picnic blankets.

You found Kelce sitting on one of the lounge beds in the back rows… and Molly on a different one (?). A second later, you felt Rafe’s presence beside you.

Kelce patted the spot next to him, a huge grin on his face. "We saved you one of the best spots. Didn't want you sitting on some uncomfortable floor pillows. Bad for the spine, you know."

...no. Just. NO.

NONONONONONONONO.

There was no way you were gonna lie down on a damn shared lounge bed with RAFE, barely wide enough for two people. NOPE. NO. NO THANK YOU.

OKAY YES HOLY SHIT YES, BUT ALSO NO NO NO.

And Rafe—this NONCHALANT FUCKING GUY—didn’t give a single fuck. After Kelce had gotten up and moved over to sit with Molly, Rafe just dropped the blanket bag onto the bed and placed his nachos and Coke on the holder on the left side like this was the most normal thing ever.

You just stood there frozen, your heart SCREAMING AT YOU TO JUST SIT DOWN while your brain was spiraling, throwing thoughts and questions around, with the two big monsters called fear and anxiety looming over everything like a cold storm—

“Come on, Y/n.”

Molly. Her voice was soft and quiet next to you. “Enjoy yourself a little.”

She looked up at you with her sweet smile and kind eyes. There was a gentle understanding in her expression, and beneath it, this warm encouragement—like she got it. Like she really understood what was happening inside your head. The panic, the confusion, and mostly the sheer anxiety about this whole... situation.

And somehow, just that little sentence and her sweet smile were enough to bring a tiny bit of quiet to your brain.

YOU COMPLETELY UNDERSTOOD WHY KELCE HAD IMMEDIATELY FALLEN FOR HER BECAUSE DUDE.

“You waiting for an invitation or what?” And then there was Rafe with his passive-aggressive bullshit, already lying back with his legs up, shoes off, sipping his stupid Coke Zero.

Remember: he’s just a dumbass. Sure, he might be the biggest crush you've ever had, but deep down he's just a dumb little stupid boy. You had absolutely no reason to feel intimidated or nervous around him.

WELL YOU HADN’T—UNTIL HE'D DECIDED TO BE A GODDAMN GENTLEMAN TODAY WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.

Okokokok whatever, I’m gonna move now and just sit down. Yeah, yeah, a little smile, mm-hmm, that’s it. And now I’ll set my stuff down on my side. Okay, done. Oh shit, my drink nearly slipped hahah. Whatever, it’s fine. Now I’ll hang my bag on the hook at the side and then I'MGONNATAKEAPLACEJUSTINCHESAWAYFROMRAFEOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOK.

DONE.

KJDEWFBGVJKWRBGFVWSJKBHFCSKWHBFESQHRL.

You smoothed out the fabric of your dress, let your hands fall into your lap, and leaned not at all tensely against the pillow backrest, staring straight ahead like a normal person because everything about this was completely normal.

:) yes, normal :)

Oh, wait. Your shoes.

You kicked them off and tossed them into the grass, and because you could feel Rafe’s burning gaze on you the whole time, you finally met his eyes—and he looked so fucking done with you it was almost hilarious.

He didn’t even look pissed. Just straight-up The-Office-style deadpan, like he was staring directly into some invisible camera, and that camera was your eyes.

"You know, at this point, you might as well just sit in the grass," he said, walking that fine line between annoyance and amusement.

And okay, he kind of had a point. You were sitting so far to the right your right leg was basically hanging off the edge of the bed.

I’m so fucking embarrassing holy shit.

You gave him a sheepish smile, and your heart sank when his brows furrowed.

"Are you seriously scared I might try some shit?" He actually sounded hurt beneath all that faux offense, and now you felt like the biggest idiot alive.

You shook your head instantly, heart racing. "No, no, of course not." An embarrassed smile crept onto your face. "I just—"

"Some minion fucker said shit to you," he stated, voice and expression softening just a little now.

Nodding at that painfully accurate guess felt humiliating. Sure, by now he knew your brain was a little fucked up, but not being able to just sit next to him? So fucking ridiculous.

You forced yourself to scoot a little closer, away from the edge, feeling like the most embarrassing human being on earth.

“Okay, stop,” he said, clearly trying to keep his frustration in check. He motioned to his chest. “I’m not gonna sit here with you acting like I’m holding you at gunpoint, alright? So if you’d rather go join Hall and her lapdog,” he made a shooing motion with his hand, “go for it.”

Your heart clenched at how disappointed and lowkey sad he sounded rather than mad or annoyed. And he’d been so nice today anyway, all smiley and chill, and now he looked like someone had popped his favorite balloon. Or, more accurately: like you had.

Of course you WEREN’T scared he’d try anything. Not in the slightest, oh my god, no, it was just…

NOTHING. There wasn’t a single damn problem except you and your own damn head.

Fuck that. Seriously, fuck your brain and every thought it ever created. Just—fuck it.

Shaking your head, you said, “What? No. No! I’m fine here. It’s… I’m just being stupid, okay?”

Rafe gave you a look like he was considering getting up and sitting somewhere else, but his gaze softened into a smile. He tapped his head. “Nah, it’s your fucking asshole brain feeding you stupid shit.” He sighed, then shook his head again. “Can’t believe I even have to say this shit, but if it helps you chill the fuck out: I’m gonna keep my hands to myself, alright?” He picked up the blanket bag and moved it toward you. “And this was meant for you anyway. I don’t need it.”

Okay no.

You did NOT want him feeling like he needed to explain himself just to not be seen as a creep because YOU KNEW DAMN WELL HE WASN’T.

JESUS CHRIST. You were the one putting people into shitty situations like this. And Rafe, of all people—this guy probably had to put up with your bullshit more than anyone else these past few days.

Furrowing your brows, you scooted closer and grabbed the blanket bag, opening it up and tossing that stupid thing to the side. You tried spreading the fluffy pink blanket across both your legs, but it was so awkwardly rolled together you kinda failed and a giant ball of fluff just landed squarely on both your laps.

“The fuck are you trying to achieve here?” Rafe said, half annoyed, half amused, watching you struggle with the small-ass blanket.

You leaned forward, trying to figure out which side was up. “Proving to you that I’m not uncomfortable around you.”

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, letting out a strained breath as he gently slapped your hand away from awkwardly fumbling with the blanket. In one smooth motion, he spread it lengthwise across both your laps.

Then you realized—it was still too warm for a blanket, especially a fluffy one like this, and you could already feel sweat creeping onto your skin. Thank god, Rafe felt it too.

“Okay, point proven,” he said with a soft scoff. “Now can we ditch this thing before I get a fucking heatstroke?”

You let out a chuckle and nodded, pulling the blanket off and tossing it to the foot of your seat.

As you shifted positions, the background music faded and the sound of the movie started. Wait, no, just some commercials. The voices around you gradually died down anyway, and the last people were finding their seats.

The air between you and Rafe finally settled. Back to as normal as it could get. And so fast too, like, you never really had to be afraid of anything with him, because even if you got into a dumb little argument, you two always somehow figured it out right away.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him tilt his head toward you, hands resting on his stomach. “Have you seen the movie before?”

You tilted your head toward him too, adrenaline spiking the second you realized how close you were. Elbows just a few inches apart, his face still at a respectful formal distance but close enough for you to see the blue pattern in his stupidly pretty eyes.

And god, his cologne in the air between you.

You smiled and shook your head softly. “You?”

“Nah,” he said, and Jesus, his gaze was always so intense. “Didn’t even wanna see this crap, but Wheezie insisted I come.”

A soft chuckle escaped your lips. “She seems more and more likeable every time you talk about her.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, and he scratched his jaw. “She says the same about you.”

OH MY HOLY FUCKING GOD. HE TALKED TO HIS LITTLE SISTER ABOUT YOU???? AHUJCHDNSKCHNKEHVBSFD WHAT.

His gaze drifted back to the screen as the actual intro to the movie started playing. A woman’s voice narrated something over the scene of girls playing with dolls, but you weren’t really listening.

You were too aware of Rafe sitting right there, the scent of his cologne, how relaxed he seemed—and still thinking about that almost hurt expression he had earlier.

You stared blankly at the screen, biting the inside of your cheek. He’s actually trying to make me feel comfortable, and I made him feel like I was grossed out or scared of him.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you tilted your head toward him, eyeing his calm profile for a second. The softness of his skin, his cute little lashes, the focused look in his eyes—and the violet-tinted bruise on his cheek that almost looked like a blossom.

“Rafe,” you said quietly.

You almost melted at how soft he looked when he turned his head toward you. Big blue eyes staring at you, almost scared of what you were about to say.

"I’m sorry about earlier," you said with a soft look. "I acted like an idiot. Probably made you feel like one, too."

Rafe shook his head and waved it off. “Nah, it’s alright. I’m used to your shit by now.”

Nope. That didn’t sit right with you.

You pressed your lips together, turning your body to face him in a sideways position, legs pulled up toward you. His eyes flicked briefly to the curve of your hip before meeting your gaze again, clearly trying not to smile.

A rush of adrenaline surged through you, but you kept your gaze steady, your expression serious. “Still. I didn’t want to make you feel like you had to explain yourself.”

Rafe let out an amused breath. "Chill, okay? Seriously, I didn’t mind."

How was he sometimes so chill, and other times made a whole issue out of something that wasn’t even one?

"Or do you need me to shut up the asshole minion in your head?" he said, lips tugging into a downward smile.

You let out a quiet chuckle and fidgeted with the bracelet on your wrist. "I think I managed that myself, but thanks."

He pulled a mock-pained face. "Sucks. Would’ve loved to smash that guy’s face in."

Another soft giggle slipped from your lips, and with that conversation wrapped up, you turned back to your original position. The fabric of your dress had ridden up slightly, giving a peak at your thighs and you quickly tugged it back down with an awkward motion.

Barbieland was now being introduced on the screen, showcasing all the different Barbie variants.

And then it was Rafe who shifted, leaning forward to grab the blanket.

You eyed him with a confused smile as he pulled it back over both your legs. “So you are in fact cold” you said, amused, heart racing at the sweet gesture.

Rafe looked up, almost startled, as he pulled the blanket over his lap as well. “What? Yeah, no, just... feels more comfy.”

…

Oh.

You just stared at him in slight disbelief, then amusement, then full-on embarrassment, knowing exactly what the two of you were now sharing under that blanket.

"What," he said quietly, brows furrowed with an almost accusatory tone. “It’s not like I control that shit.”

You should probably be weirded out. No, actually—FREAK OUT, PANIC, stand up and leave. But instead, you just pressed your lips together, trying not to chuckle at how genuinely awkward he looked. And probably felt.

Shit, you actually felt sorry for him.

So, in a weak attempt to make him feel better, you mirrored his movement, pulling your side of the blanket over your lap too and quietly shifting your gaze back to the screen, where the stereotypical Barbie was just being introduced.

Your heart was racing nonetheless, because like... not Rafe getting hard at the most random-ass moment during a Barbie movie. And not you lying just a few inches away from him and OKAY MAYBE KINDA PANICKING A LITTLE.

nONONONONO. Stuff like that happens all the time. He probably felt just as embarrassed as you did. Honestly, maybe even more.

Okay. Just ignore it. It'll probably go away soon, right?

Keeping your focus on the movie was kinda hard though, with how uncomfortable you felt in your current position, neck all tense because you were lying too low, and being on your back felt awkward in general.

So now you had two options: either turn on your side, facing Rafe, or turn your back to him. And given his current…situation, you weren’t really sure which one was worse.

Shit, but you really couldn’t lie like that anymore, and you didn’t wanna risk a cramp or something just because you were too scared to move. So you decided to turn onto your side—facing him—because, well… you didn’t wanna make him feel bad by turning away.

Grabbing the pillow behind you, you slid one hand underneath it and rested the other next to your face. There. Much better.

"You doing that shit on purpose now?" Rafe asked, and your head snapped toward him, catching him glancing at the curve of your hip again, now hidden under the blanket.

You let out a baffled little laugh, shaking your head. "What? No. This is just more comfortable."

“Yeah, shit. Not for me,” he muttered, and poor boy actually looked like he was suffering.

Nerves buzzing, you just stared at him cluelessly, your heart racing at the possibility that you were the reason for his current situation. "I... what do you want me to do?"

"I don’t know, stop moving." He looked so genuinely embarrassed, wearing that little scowl, that somehow it didn’t feel that weird. Okay, it did, but not as much as you'd expected. And honestly, right now, you just wanted to make him feel a little less awkward.

"Well... maybe turning on your side might help," you said quietly, with a barely hidden smile. "Might ease the pressure, considering—"

"Please just shut the fuck up," Rafe muttered, his face contorted in the most dramatic frown possible. On screen, stereotypical Barbie was now getting ready for her day. Then, after a beat, he did in fact shift downward a bit and turned to face you, mirroring your position.

For a moment, you just stared at each other. A respectful distance between you, but still close enough to feel his breath on your hand. He looked at you like he might actually murder you if you dared open your mouth, and you tried your absolute best not to laugh.

“Did you know,” you whispered, trying to keep a straight face, “Mr. Martin’s buttcrack always peeks out when he tries to write on the upper half of the board.”

Rafe stared at you, deadpan, very obviously trying to suppress a smile. You decided to go one further: “Looks like a dark hairy caterpillar from afar.”

His features softened almost immediately as a baffled chuckle escaped him, the blanket on your side lifting a little as his body shifted onto his back. He dragged a hand over his face in annoyed amusement, letting out a quiet, "What the fuck."

You held back a smile, glancing up at him with raised brows, feeling a little proud for getting those soft chuckles out of him from time to time. “Did that help?”

Rafe looked at you with a crooked smile, amusement glimmering in his eyes. "Shit, yeah, it did. I’ll probably never get hard again with that cursed image now burned into my brain."

“Imagine him in a tankini, that should do the trick,” you offered, and Rafe’s face twisted in disgust.

He tapped a finger against his temple. “That weird-ass minion in your head is worse than the shit-talking one.”

You let out a soft giggle, and your heart did a little jump when you saw him smiling along too.

Rafe then fully shifted onto his back again and tried adjusting the blanket higher up, but since it was stretched lengthwise over both of you, your feet ended up exposed. A soft breeze hit them, now that the sun had finally dipped below the horizon.

"Okay, you gotta scoot closer if we both wanna fit under here," he said, scoffing at your expression. "Shit, relax. Thanks to your overly detailed description of Martin’s wrinkly, hairy caterpillar buttcrack, I'm probably gonna be impotent for the next few weeks."

NOT RELAXING IN THE SLIGHTEST RIGHT NOW.

“But I can get up and grab my own blanket if you want,” he added more seriously, catching your baffled look.

WHY WAS HE SO SWEET TONIGHT OH MY GOD.

Okay. This is your chance for SOME CLOSENESS WITH HIM. He might’ve had a boner just now HAHAHAHAHA and you were still kind of shocked at yourself for how weirdly chill you'd reacted, BUT LET’S JUST IGNORE THAT AND USE THIS FUCKING CHANCE GIRLLLLL LET’S GOOOO.

Quietly, you shook your head with a nervous smile, grabbed your pillow, and scooted closer to him. While you kind of struggled to figure out how exactly you were supposed to lie next to him that close, Rafe grabbed the blanket and turned it so that the long side actually covered the length of your bodies.

Okay, lying on your side wasn’t really possible here, so you turned onto your back. But now your upper arms were awkwardly pressed together, both of you with your hands resting on your stomach, and your hips were touching, too, AND JESUS CHRIST HIS BODY FELT SO WARM.

But hey, at least you were both covered now, even if you were pretty sure he could hear your heartbeat, with how loud it was pounding in your chest.

Barbie was now at the beach with her friends, the Kens were doing some beach stuff or whatever BUT YOU COULDN’T REALLY FOCUS.

Also, his elbow was digging uncomfortably into yours, so you tried adjusting yours, which made him move again AND JESUS CHRIST THIS WAS AWKWARD.

“Shit, wait,” Rafe said with a quiet scoff and leaned forward. “This isn’t working.”

You just blinked at him, afraid he’d actually get up now to grab his own blanket.

Instead, he gently grabbed your shoulder, signaling you to lean forward for a second. Which you did—letting him take the lead because your brain had gone completely blank at THIS ABSURDLY CLOSE PROXIMITY.

Rafe grabbed your pillow, scooted into a more upright position, then leaned back again, his right arm now resting on the low backrest, his head supported by his hand. With the other, he placed the pillow in the now empty space, half on his shoulder and under his armpit, and gestured to it.

GUYS.

“There,” he said. “You okay with that?”

JUST SAY YES AND LIE DOWN, NO SECOND GUESSING.

So you did. Heart hammering so loud you didn’t even hear yourself speak. You smiled—half anxious, half excited—and leaned back again.

Since he was lying slightly elevated on his back, you had to scoot down a little, your head pressing against the pillow, your left shoulder half resting on his chest, and you folded your hands comfortably on your stomach. Your elbow ended up resting against the side of his hip because of that, and you expected him to shift away...but he didn’t. And NEITHER DID YOU because acknowledging it would just make it worse and—

GIRL. RELAX.

Your body was relaxed. Rafe’s warmth helped you ease into it, and the fact that he was so chill made it even easier. BUT YOUR MIND? YOUR MIND WAS SCREAMING, RUNNING IN CIRCLES, SETTING EVERYTHING ON FIRE BECAUSE YOU WERE BASICALLY HALF-CUDDLING WITH RAFE RIGHT NOW.

It’s fine. It’s cool.

Everything’s completely chill.

Actually, yeah, literally chill. Your skin had goosebumps, both from the situation and the drop in temperature over the past half hour.

And then a whole firework erupted on your upper right arm as you felt Rafe’s arm behind you shift, to pull up the blanket on your side and cover the rest of your upper body, AND HIS FINGERS BRUSHED YOUR SKIN AS HE DID SO AND—

You held your breath.

Because.

THIS FUCKER just left his arm there. Not back on the armrest, not casually elsewhere—no, right there, lightly resting on your right shoulder, his fingers playing with the sleeve of your dress.

OKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOK.

You bit the inside of your cheek so hard you tasted blood because WAS THIS EVEN REAL?! WAS THIS ON PURPOSE OR WAS HE JUST SO FOCUSED ON THE MOVIE HE DIDN’T NOTICE? AHHHHHHHHH

But you let him.

You let him because you wanted this. Being close to him, feeling the warmth of his body, all cozied up. Your heart was racing, fluttering like it didn’t know whether to panic or melt. Every brush of his arm sent little sparks down your spine, too much and not enough all at once.

Because, as a matter of fact, it wasn't enough. Now that you’d had a taste of this feeling—of how it felt being so close to him—it was like something inside you had been lit up. There was this deep urge and longing to completely turn toward him, fully cuddle up, put your hand on his chest, drape a leg over his, bury your head in his chest and just inhale his scent and UGHHHH.

But you were a coward. A scaredy cat, too afraid he’d push you away. Especially because this right here? It was toeing a fine line between “we’re just cold and sharing a blanket so obviously we scoot closer” and “considering we’re just project partners who happened to agree on being friends, this was way more intimate than necessary.”

Hey, funny thought here: what if you just did it? :)

Because HE clearly never gave much thought to how his little flirtations affected you. He made it damn clear it was all just for fun. So maybe you could just… cuddle with him. For fun.

Worst case? He’d say something like “You wanna get into it now or what?” and then you’d just awkwardly laugh and go “Sorry, just felt more comfy like this” and scoot back into your old position.

Remember? With Rafe, you never had to be afraid of doing some dumb shit or embarrassing yourself.

FUCK IT.

You pressed your lips together and pushed yourself up on your elbow, ignoring the pang of disappointment as his arm slipped back onto the backrest, his expression confused. DOESN’T MATTER, PUSH THROUGH GIRL. Adrenaline shot up as you grabbed the pillow that had been under his arm and silently placed it across his ribs, READY TO LAY DOWN—

—only for him to stop you with a crooked smile, your heart dropping straight through the floor.

You froze. Completely. Like your body had hit an invisible wall. Eyes wide, breath hitched, you just… stared at him. You didn’t dare speak, didn’t dare move, afraid that even the smallest word might expose you in the worst way possible.

“Shit, you're gonna suffocate me with that thing,” Rafe said with amusement and moved the pillow to the side. Then he gestured toward the now free space on the side of his chest. “There.”

Your whole body buzzed as his right arm returned to your upper arm, now gently nudging you toward him.

Ignoring every voice of reason and panic in your head, letting yourself be guided into him, turning your body toward his, resting your head against the side of his chest, your shoulder naturally tilting in, your arm daring to settle on his upper stomach.

Every nerve lit up, hyperaware of the rise and fall of his breathing beneath your cheek, the heat of his skin seeping into yours through his shirt. It was terrifying and euphoric, like stepping off a ledge and realizing, just for a second, that maybe you liked the adrenaline you felt while looking downward.

And then you almost exploded, because this guy took it a step further. His left hand remained casually on his thigh, but his other arm wrapped around your back, HIS HAND NOW RESTING ON YOUR BLANKET-COVERED WAIST.

Okay. You were officially done for :)))))))

Your heart was racing, pounding so loud it felt like drums in your ears, pulse probably skyrocketing, and let’s not even talk about the adrenaline—you’d probably need the ER in the next few seconds.

And the craziest thing was how he'd just accepted it. He'd let you do this. Hadn’t said anything dumb, hadn’t made a joke. Instead, he just laid there, snacking on his nachos and sipping his Coke Zero occasionally, the only things he said being how stupid Ken looked and acted and how weird his rivalry with the other Ken was.

But you didn’t have the heart to tell him that, actually, that was exactly how you saw him and Kelce. So you just stayed quiet, chuckled softly whenever he made another snarky remark, and soaked in this surreal moment that would be over again in about 60 minutes.

And when his left hand absentmindedly started playing with the bracelet dangling from your wrist, you didn’t say anything either—too afraid to ruin whatever this was.

Because somehow, it felt like the little agreement of friendship you made just yesterday was already, very slowly, starting to slip away into something you were too afraid to name.

Or maybe. Maybe, this was just what it looked like when two people, thrown together by coincidence, trusted each other enough to get this comfortable without needing to put it into words.

Little did you two know—it was both.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

✿ A / N ✿ imma be real, i feel like i fucked up their whole dynamic with the last scene aka them lying on the bed and cuddling and ughhh, and i also feel like you can feel through the writing how impatient i grew with the ending of this ch. idk maybe i should've postponed this and actually think it through but i kinda lost my mind with this one and now it seems like i skipped over some steps. idk maybe i'm just tired or biased bc of how long this chapter is so what do you guys think? bc i'm srsly considering reworking the last part HAHAHAHAH #heart'sactuallyracingrn

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

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 (soon) ->

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

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

[dee-writes-anime]

OH MY GOSH,

Imagine Aizawa dating a younger girl, whos a super model!!!

For an example, he’s on patrol right. And he visits her at a meet amd greet! Cameras are flashing as reader gives him a big smooch!!! How eould 1A, other teachers/pro heros and other students react😭

Randomly came to me after listening to turn heads by dem franchize boyz

Smeared Lipstick and Flashing Lights

FEATURING Shouta Aizawa x Reader

SUMMARY Aizawa's life erupts into chaos when you decide to kiss him in front of hundreds of cameras.

CONTENT WARNINGS pure fluff guys, class 1-A being children, pure chaos, descriptions of kissing, some good old teasing between friends

AUTHORS NOTE THIS IS AN EPIC IDEA MONTY!!! I love it so much and this was such a joy to write!

Tokyo Midtown Plaza shimmered with polished marble floors and the cool hum of upscale air conditioning. Velvet ropes stretched across the gleaming lobby, separating rows of cameras and screaming fans from the raised platform where you stood beneath a cascade of LED lights and branded banners.

You’d done a hundred of these meet-and-greets, but tonight—tonight you had a feeling. Something beneath your skin itched with electricity.

You signed a glossy photograph with a flourish, smiled into the flash of an iPhone, and handed it back to a starstruck girl who could barely form words. You whispered a quiet thank-you to her and turned slightly, posing with your signature look—chin tilted, eyes soft, a touch of a smirk.

Then you saw him.

Half-hidden behind a marble column near the back of the venue, head tilted low and posture slouched like he belonged in the shadows. To anyone else, he was just a tired man in black—another body in the chaos.

But to you? He was gravity.

Aizawa stood with his hands in his pockets, capture scarf bundled neatly at his hip, dust smudged along the sleeve of his hero coat. His half-up hair framed his face in messy strands, one brow raised slightly as he watched you work.

You beamed.

No hesitation. You ducked under the velvet rope, ignoring the flurry of movement from the security guards, and stalked toward him with long, graceful strides that only made the cameras turn faster.

“Miss—wait, please—” someone called after you.

He didn’t even flinch. Just blinked once. Slowly.

The moment you reached him, you grabbed his collar, leaned up on your toes, and kissed him.

Not a polite peck. Not something demure or for show. This was shameless, deliberate. The kind of kiss that says, I know exactly what I’m doing.

The crowd exploded behind you.

You smiled against his lips as the burst of camera flashes lit up the marble floor like fireworks. Someone in the press screamed. Another person cheered. The whole venue turned into a wall of voices, rising into a euphoric frenzy.

He didn’t kiss you back at first. He just stood there, stunned—probably calculating just how badly this would go over. But then, he exhaled through his nose, a sound like a sigh and a laugh, and his hand slid up to rest gently at your waist.

“You know,” he said, barely above the noise, voice gravel-thick, “I was just here to check in.”

“And now you’re here to be adored,” you replied with a wink.

His eyes softened for just a heartbeat before flattening back into their usual half-lidded look of apathy. But you knew better. You could feel the subtle tension in his hand where it gripped your waist a second longer than necessary.

“Cameras,” he said.

“Let them look.”

He groaned quietly, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward—barely. Only you would’ve noticed.

That was enough.

The dorm was quiet. Suspiciously so.

Most of Class 1-A had retreated to the common area for snacks and late-night studying—though the "studying" part had long since given way to Kaminari and Sero attempting to balance textbooks on Mineta's head while he napped.

Mina sat cross-legged on the couch, flipping through channels in boredom until she landed on a newscast with the caption in bold white font:

"BREAKING: ERASERHEAD CAUGHT KISSING FASHION ICON LIVE AT MIDTOWN PLAZA."

She blinked.

Paused.

Then screamed.

“KIRISHIMA!!! DENKI!!! TODOROKI!!! LITERALLY EVERYONE!!! GET IN HERE—NOW!”

The boys crashed into the room like a herd of startled cattle, Kirishima wiping crumbs off his chin and Denki tripping over a power cord.

“WHAT? WHAT IS IT? IS IT A VILLAIN ATTACK?” Kirishima shouted.

“No, it’s worse—it’s—LOOK!”

She jabbed a finger at the screen, rewinding the footage.

And there he was.

Eraserhead. Grumpy, broody, nap-loving homeroom teacher Aizawa Shouta—standing in full hero gear at a public venue, stiff as a board while a beautiful, radiant woman in a black satin dress yanked him down and kissed him senseless. And not just any woman.

“Wait—isn’t that—?” “It is!” “That’s the supermodel from the Sekai spread! The one that broke the internet—” “The one who made that sheer mesh catsuit look good!” “I HAVE THAT CATSUIT SAVED TO MY CAMERA ROLL!”

Kirishima collapsed to the floor with a groan. “Bro. BRO. He pulled a woman like that?! That’s so—so manly, I don’t even have words—”

Todoroki watched with a blank stare. “He said relationships were a ‘distraction.’ I guess he meant our relationships.”

Kaminari’s mouth was wide open. “Did you see the way she grabbed him? Like—like she owned him?! That was insane! I need someone to kiss me like that!”

“You need someone to tolerate you first,” Jirou muttered, deadpan.

Uraraka was red as a tomato. “I didn’t even know Mr. Aizawa smiled. Did you see the way he looked at her after?!”

On screen, the camera zoomed in. A faint curl of his lips. A glimmer of affection behind sleep-heavy eyes.

“Mr. Aizawa is hot,” Tsuyu said matter-of-factly, sipping her tea. “We all just didn’t want to admit it.”

Midoriya’s hands shook as he scribbled furiously in his notebook.

“Notable change in public persona… possibly quirk synergy in shared lifestyle? Domestic compatibility? Hero-student boundaries?? What does this mean—?!”

“Yo, we gotta show this to Bakugo,” Sero grinned.

As if summoned by sheer will, Bakugo stomped into the room seconds later, glaring. “The hell are you losers screaming about this time?!”

The TV lit up with the moment. The kiss. The crowd. The lipstick smudge on Aizawa’s stubble.

Bakugo stopped dead.

There was a long silence.

“…That old bastard is pulling?” he muttered.

The world tilted slightly.

“I’m done,” Bakugo said, turning on his heel.

The breakroom at U.A. smelled like burnt coffee grounds and the faint tang of disinfectant. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting a sterile glow over the mismatched mugs, half-eaten rice balls, and teacher-grade exhaustion that clung to every surface.

Aizawa sat in the corner, hood up, eyes closed behind his capture scarf like he could will himself into a coma. His coffee sat untouched. He had already regretted waking up today—and he’d only been conscious for ten minutes.

He didn’t look up when Hizashi burst into the room like a man on a mission.

“SHOUTA. Shouta. SHOUTA. Dude.”

Aizawa cracked one eye open. Slowly. Like a tired cat contemplating murder.

“What,” he muttered.

Yamada slammed his phone down onto the breakroom table, screen up, the brightness blinding in the otherwise dull space. A still image of the kiss—Aizawa’s gloved hand on your waist, your lips pressed to his with the kind of audacity the internet had only dreamed of—burned across the display.

“YOU’RE A VIRAL SENSATION, BABY!” Hizashi howled, flinging his arms out. “How the hell did you not tell me you were dating her?!”

Aizawa closed his eye again. “It’s not a secret.”

“Not a secret?! Half of Japan’s on fire. You made national news during a patrol route!”

“Wasn’t my fault.”

“You kissed a supermodel—in front of cameras—during a public event.”

“She kissed me.”

Hizashi made a strangled noise. “Ohhhhhh my god you’re impossible.”

Across the room, Midnight—lounging against the countertop in leather pants and a smirk—sipped from her coffee like it was wine. “I always knew you had taste,” she purred. “Didn’t think you had game, though.”

“I don’t,” Aizawa said flatly.

“Sure,” she hummed. “That’s why you’re all over the entertainment blogs this morning. Scandalous mystery hero revealed as fashion queen’s secret boyfriend!” She tossed her phone on the table, showing the article. “They’re calling you ‘Japan’s Grumpy Zaddy.’”

“I’m going to burn the internet.”

“Too late,” came Cementoss’s low, amused voice as he entered, arms crossed and half a rice cracker hanging out of his mouth. “My daughter texted me asking if we serve caviar now that Aizawa’s dating royalty.”

“I don’t even know what caviar tastes like.”

“She said you’re her new favorite hero. She used to like Best Jeanist.”

Aizawa stared blankly at his coffee.

Then, with painful timing, All Might entered, beaming as if this was the most wholesome turn of events in modern history. “Aizawa! What a lovely surprise to see you trending for something positive!”

“I was trending?” Aizawa asked grimly.

“Oh yes!” Toshinori fumbled for his reading glasses, squinting at his phone. “There’s a fan account already! They’ve posted over twenty edits. The music choices are a little intense though. Very… sensual.”

“Please stop talking.”

“OH! OH! Is this the one where you’re like—grrr, and she’s all—mmwah?” Yamada mimed both parts dramatically, complete with flailing arms and kissy noises.

“I will end you.”

The breakroom door opened again.

This time it was Nezu, rolling in with an espresso in his paws and a suspicious twinkle in his beady little eyes.

“Well well well,” he said, voice chipper as ever. “Our dear Eraserhead. A viral sweetheart. A romantic lead. Dare I say… a public figure?”

“I’m not a public figure.”

“You are now.”

“I’ll quit.”

“No you won’t,” Nezu said, sipping serenely. “Because she makes you smile.”

A beat of silence.

Everyone turned.

Yamada’s mouth dropped open. “You SMILED?!”

“I did not smile.”

“You so smiled.”

“I was grimacing.”

“Your eyes were smiling,” Midnight said helpfully.

“God, just—stop talking. All of you.”

“You know, the students are in shambles,” said Cementoss. “Mina nearly passed out. Midoriya’s having a hero notebook crisis. I think Todoroki thinks love is a government conspiracy now.”

Aizawa groaned and finally buried his face in his arms on the table. His coffee sat cold. His life was ruined. And the worst part?

He could still feel the faint smudge of your lipstick against the corner of his mouth.

[charlvr]

- the universe's cosmic joke | Megan is not in love

Pairing. Main: Megan Skiendiel x Reader | sub: Daniela Avanzini x Reader

w.c. 5.4 k

Read the main story: here | masterlist

Megan Skiendiel didn’t really believe in love at first sight. But falling for Y/N L/N? That came pretty damn close.

She isn’t even sure Y/N remembers their first meeting. And honestly, Megan wouldn’t blame her.

Those days at Dream Academy had been nothing short of a nightmare, a memory she would rather leave buried if she could. But even in what she now calls “hell on earth,” she had met Y/N. And for that reason alone, she figures it might have all been worth it.

Looking back, she wonders if she should have known better. When she applied, Megan thought she was ready for the worst of Dream Academy. She had the experience: years of vocal lessons, countless hours of dance practice, and enough rehearsals to know how to stand in front of a camera and smile like she meant it. She thought that would be enough to keep her safe.

What she hadn’t expected was how quickly the place turned toxic. Everyone seemed to know how to be pleasant on camera and ruthless the second the lights were off. The producers bullied contestants and constantly stirred up drama for sound bites. The performances were grueling, and the criticisms sharp. And though Megan was mostly spared from the worst of it, always earning at least a polite nod or a clipped compliment from the instructors, that small grace came at a cost. It meant the other contestants saw her as a target, a threat, something to be resented. Not everyone, but enough. Enough that she started noticing how the atmosphere shifted whenever she walked into the room. How the whispers would rise just as she passed, and the stares felt less like curiosity and more like a test.

She tried not to let it get to her. Told herself she had been through competitions before, that she knew how to handle pressure. But Dream Academy was different. It wasn’t just about skill, it was about survival. It was the kind of place that made even her steady confidence feel like it was always teetering on the edge, just one misstep away from falling apart.

And fall she did.

She wasn’t sure what happened. Maybe she hadn’t slept enough the night before, or maybe her muscles had just been too tight. Or maybe she had simply been human. Either way, halfway through a routine, she missed a beat. She tried to catch up too quickly and overshot her turn, ending up flat on her back.

One moment she had been in control, the next she was staring up at the ceiling, the world gone still around her. Her breathing was loud in her own ears, every inhale too sharp, too close.

Silence. 

Then, the low, collective exhale of satisfaction. Like the room had been holding its breath, waiting for her to prove she wasn’t invincible after all. Like they’d all been hoping for it. 

Megan hadn’t been angry that day. Or even that embarrassed, really. She had just felt a hollow sort of disappointment in herself. For giving them what they had wanted. The instructor wasted no time filling the silence with a speech on the importance of what they were doing, a speech Megan could have recited herself by then. Precision, he said. Strength. Focus. All the usual hits. 

Megan nodded, eyes fixed on a loose thread in her shirt, waiting for him to stop. She didn’t interject, didn’t rush him. She just listened. Took the blows. Because that's what you did in Dream Academy. Because the only other choice was to let them see you were rattled. 

When the instructor finally turned away, Megan thought that would be the end of it. She’d get up, brush herself off, and be the hot topic on everyone’s tongue for the next few days. Nothing new. Nothing she wouldn’t be able to handle. 

What she didn’t expect was the tap on her shoulder. Light. Gentle. And she definitely didn’t expect Y/N’s face when she looked up.

“Hey,” Y/N said, leaning in with a grin that looked like it might split her face if she tried to hold it back. She was close. Maybe a little too close, and Megan wasn’t sure if Y/N even noticed, “Was it just me, or did he start sounding like a bedtime story halfway through?”

Megan blinked, her breath catching. “What?”

Y/N tilted her head, her grin growing even wider. “The instructor. He was talking and I swear my eyelids were starting to betray me.”

A small, startled laugh slipped out of Megan’s mouth, more from surprise than anything else. “You think?”

Y/N didn’t even pause. “Absolutely,” she said, her tone so sure, so easy, like it was Megan who hadn’t been paying attention. She leaned in a little closer, her voice dropping as if they were sharing something secret and just for them. “He even does this thing with his voice—like he’s reading from a textbook nobody asked for. Just blah blah blah. On and on. Like we get it! We’re lucky to be here. We should worship the ground you walk on and offer to lick your boot straps.” She paused, her eyes dancing, “But, you know, it’s usually just at me. So thanks for taking the heat today. I'm not sure I would've survived another lecture from Mr. Monotone, over there."

So-called Mr. Monotone turned around just then, as if he could sense something afoot. Even from across the room, his gaze zeroed in on Y/N like a spotlight. Testament to her character, perhaps.

Y/N just pretended not to notice the daggers in his stare.

Megan stared at Y/N for a long moment, not quite sure what to make of it all. Of this girl in front of her who spoke like there was nothing odd about how easily she closed the distance between them. Who laughed like she and Megan had been sharing inside jokes for years. Who leaned in as if there was no question whether she’d be welcome, as if Megan was someone she could speak to without thinking twice. Who didn’t seem to care about the eyes around them, or the quiet pressure that had been pressing down on Megan’s shoulders since the second she stepped into the studio.

There was something so acutely disarming about it. Something that made Megan forget, for a single breath, that she was supposed to be holding herself together, not… whatever this was.

All she could do was giggle. An unguarded, bubbling sound she hadn’t heard from herself in far too long. She let it slip out before she could catch it, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she didn’t care.

Y/N’s smile grew almost imperceptibly wider.

“Well, next time it’s your turn again,” Megan said, her voice coming out a little lighter, a little braver than she’d expected. She wasn’t sure if it was meant as a joke or a promise, but either way, it felt like something she wanted to keep saying.

Y/N’s smile dropped, all exaggerated and dramatic. “Aw man, do I have to?” she groaned, her voice pitched high with mock complaint. But even as her lips turned down, her eyes stayed bright and playful, and Megan swore she had never seen anything more captivating. “Fine, I guess if I owe you one.” She sighed and reached out her hand, the movement casual but full of quiet certainty. Megan took it, noting how warm and steady Y/N’s grip felt as she pulled her up.

“But next time, you help me up, alright?” Y/N said, like it was a promise. She waited for Megan’s nod, then gave her arm one last, gentle pat and flashed a final, bright grin before turning away and disappearing back into the music and the world around them.

Megan watched her go, feeling something warm settle in her chest. It wasn’t love. No, that would be absurd. But it was something close. Something that reminded her, if only for a moment, how it felt to laugh without thinking twice, to be herself without having to prove it.

And she thought to herself that she quite liked that feeling. 

—

After that day, Megan found herself looking for Y/N whenever they were in the same room. She’d catch herself watching the way Y/N’s smile always reached her eyes, or how she’d wave at anyone and everyone with the same unguarded energy.During meals, Megan would find excuses to sit closer, telling herself it was just because the lighting was better there, or because she liked the breeze from the air conditioning. 

And maybe she did start dancing a little better when she knew Y/N was watching. Maybe she held her head a little higher when she heard Y/N’s laughter.

It didn’t really matter. All she knew was that she wanted to see that smile meant for her. Again. And again. And again.

—

But she never really got another chance to. Not when it seemed like all Y/N saw was Daniela Avanzini. 

Megan noticed it long before anyone said it out loud. The way Y/N’s eyes would soften whenever Daniela walked into the room, like there was some unspoken understanding just between them. The way her gaze always found Daniela’s, the quiet way her shoulders would ease, like the simple fact of Daniela being there was enough to make the whole world a little brighter. It was as if Daniela lit Y/N from within, and there wasn’t room for anything or anyone else.

Megan recognized that feeling. She’d spent enough time on stage to know what it looked like when someone was watching their own personal star. And Megan, who had always known how to make herself seen, found she didn’t know how to compete with that.

Still, she tried. In her own small, quiet ways. She would think about asking Y/N to practice together sometime, or about just saying thank you for that day. She’d think of questions to ask, easy ones that didn’t really matter, like if Y/N had a favorite song or if she believed in pineapples on pizza. Something small. Something silly. Something that might be enough to see that bright smile again, even if just for a moment.

But she never did. She’d get as far as picturing how Y/N would laugh, how her eyes would light up, and then the words would catch in her throat. Because more often than not, Daniela would walk in. And in that instant, it was like Y/N forgot the rest of the world even existed.

Megan told herself she was okay with that. She thought she could be content with the small, half-stolen glances. The little pieces of Y/N she got when no one else was around. But the night of the finale made one thing clear.

She had watched from the side, heart thumping along to the music, sweat still cooling on her skin. The lights swept across the stage, and then Y/N’s name was called. Megan didn’t even hear her own name in the next breath, because all she could see was Y/N, beaming so wide it looked like it must have hurt, running straight into Daniela’s arms. Y/N looked so happy. So sure. And Megan, who had spent so long thinking about what she might say if she ever got the chance, felt the words she’d been carrying shrivel up before they even reached her lips.

It might not have been love at first sight. But it sure did sting like one.

—

Megan stopped looking for Y/N after that. 

She would show up to every rehearsal, every lesson, every group practice, of course. Did her part. But she learned to be careful with her presence. She started scheduling her private coaching sessions at different times, making sure to be out of the room before Y/N walked in. During group events, she’d find a way to keep herself walled off by the others, her smile polite but distant. If Y/N was at the center of it all, bright and laughing and easy as ever, Megan made sure she was at the edge.

It wasn’t that she wanted to give up. If anything, she would have been more than willing to try again, to see if she could win Y/N over with small jokes or half-smiles or the promise of something more. But every time she thought she might, she’d catch Daniela and Y/N together, and the idea would fade before it even really formed.

Because there was something in the way Daniela looked at Y/N when she thought no one was paying attention. Megan had seen it more than once: lingering glances across the practice room, careful, quiet, so deliberate. Daniela’s eyes would soften in a way that was almost secretive, like she was trying to memorize every small detail of Y/N’s smile. Like each glance might be the last. 

It wasn’t just admiration. It was personal. Intimate. Like she was seeing something the rest of the world wasn’t supposed to.

And it was that intimacy, the unspoken thread that seemed to tie Y/N and Daniela together, that made Megan hesitate. Because it was one thing to want Y/N’s laughter, that bright spark she carried so carelessly. It was another to try and take it from someone who already held it so carefully.

—

But then Daniela came out as straight, and Megan didn’t know what to do with herself.

She’d been watching the Weverse live because, of course, she had. Lara was on, and what kind of roommate would she be if she didn’t at least tune in? So there she was, curled up on her hotel bed, half-listening to the stream of fan questions and group banter, grateful for the easy chatter after weeks of constant performances. And then, out of nowhere, Daniela just… said it. I’m straight.

Megan had paused the video, her breath caught somewhere between disbelief and something else she couldn’t name. She replayed it once. Twice.

Daniela was grinning, Manon and Lara were cackling, the comments section was in meltdown mode, and Megan was… stunned.

She had been so sure. Absolutely sure that Daniela and Y/N were secretly in love with each other. She’d seen it in the way Y/N’s eyes would flicker over to Daniela, soft and searching. The way Daniela always seemed to be standing just a little too close, her eyes lingering a little too long. Megan had convinced herself it was only a matter of time before they admitted it—if not to everyone else, then at least to each other.

But apparently not.

She tried to puzzle it out, going over every memory like there might have been some clue she’d missed. Maybe Daniela didn’t realize it yet. Maybe she was in denial. Or maybe, Megan’s stomach gave a small, traitorous flip, maybe she’d been wrong all along. Maybe it was just… nothing.

She decided she’d ask Lara once they were back in LA. Lara always knew the full story, whether you wanted her to or not. But for the first time in what felt like forever, Megan let herself feel the smallest flicker of hope. 

—

That hope didn’t last long.

The second they landed in LA, Megan was swept into a blur of promo shoots, fittings, and endless meetings. She barely had time to drop her suitcase at home before she was whisked off again. By the end of the day, she was still clutching the lint roller from her last fitting, her mind fuzzy with exhaustion.

All she wanted was a shower and a moment of peace. Maybe she’d finally corner Lara and get the truth about Daniela and Y/N. But when she walked into her room that night, that plan went straight out the window.

Because there was Y/N. On Lara’s bed. Face down, hair a mess, shoulders hunched like she wanted to disappear. She looked up the moment Megan stepped in, eyes wide and a little guilty.

Megan froze. For a second, she couldn’t even process what she was seeing. Then, a thousand questions tumbled through her mind, with increasing urgency: Why was Y/N here? Had she seen the half-unpacked suitcases? The messy pile of laundry in the corner? Mostly Lara’s, might she add. Did she think Megan was a sloppy, unprepared, complete disaster?

Megan realized, belatedly, that she was still just standing there in the doorway, lint roller clutched to her chest like a shield. She thinks Y/N said something, but she hadn’t been paying attention. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for something, anything, to say. To fill in the silence. Finally, she managed, her voice small, “I’m just… grabbing the lint roller,” immediately wishing she could sink straight into the floor because, of course, she was already holding one.

Y/N definitely gave her a weird look. But as if on cue, Lara, calm as ever, just tossed her another lint roller from the nightstand. “Here, catch,” she said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Megan caught it on instinct, too stunned to even fumble. She stared at it for a moment, willing it to give her a better excuse or some quick explanation for why she’d walked in so suddenly. But nothing came to her. Nothing. So she just gave one more small, awkward nod and squeaked out a quiet, “Thanks,” before turning on her heel and practically fleeing the room.

In the hallway, Megan stopped, the lint roller pressed to her chest. Her heart was still thudding in her ears, her face warm in a way she couldn’t quite shake. “Okay,” she muttered to herself, trying to steady her breathing. “You played it cool, Megan. Totally cool.” She took one step down the hall before it hit her. That was her room. She had nowhere else to go. Damn it.

Realizing she had boxed herself in, she decided to linger in the kitchen for a while, fingers drumming a nervous rhythm on the countertop. When she finally worked up the nerve to go back to the room later that night, it felt smaller somehow. Lara was sprawled across her bed, propped up on her elbows with one brow raised, that familiar spark of mischief in her eyes.

“Finally remembered where home was?” Lara asked, her voice light and amused in a way that made Megan want to crawl out of her skin.

“Shut up,” Megan muttered, tossing the lint rollers onto her dresser with a little more force than necessary. “You didn’t tell me Y/N would be here.”

Lara just shrugged, her hair falling over her shoulder as she gave Megan a slow, knowing look. “She kind of just… appeared. What’s the big deal? You’d think you’d be happier to see her.”

“Not when she’s in your bed,” Megan blurted out before she could stop herself. The words hung in the air longer than she meant them to. Her face flushed the second they slipped out.

Lara’s lips curved into a slow, wicked smile. “Oh? Oh!” she said, drawing out the words like she was savoring them. A low laugh bubbled up. “So you want her in your bed?”

Megan’s face went crimson, heat blooming in her cheeks. “No! Not like that,” she squeaked, her hands flying up in a helpless little gesture.

Lara just laughed, the sound easy and amused, like she’d been waiting for that exact reaction. She pushed herself up on her elbows, shifting her weight to look at Megan more closely. “Relax, I’m just teasing,” she said, though her grin told Megan she wouldn’t be living this down anytime soon. “But what’s going on? You looked like you had something on your mind.”

Megan let out a small, shaky breath and sank down onto the edge of the bed, unsure how to start. She glanced at Lara, then away, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. “Why was Y/N even here?” she finally asked, going for the question that felt the safest. The one that didn’t lay her heart out for everyone to see.

Lara’s expression shifted, the playful spark dimming for a moment. “Daniela,” she said simply, as if that alone held the answer to everything. And maybe it did. Maybe when it came to Y/N, Daniela was the key. Megan wasn’t sure she liked that thought. 

She swallowed. “So… what’s the deal with them?” she asked carefully, the question feeling bigger than she meant it to be. “I always thought Daniela and Y/N were… you know.”

“It’s… complicated,” Lara said, her voice softer than usual, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the blanket. Megan wondered if she’d ever heard Lara sound so thoughtful. But then Lara’s grin returned, her eyes glinting like the conversation hadn’t even touched her. “But hey, clearly they’re not together. So this could be your chance, Megatron.”

The god-awful nickname dragged Megan out of her thoughts. Grabbing the nearest pillow and shoving it over her face, Megan’s words were muffled but still plenty mortified. “Don’t call me that.”

“What, why not? You’d probably let Y/N call you that,” Lara teased, her tone too smug for Megan to even bother arguing.

“I’m going to bed.” She declared. 

“Dream of Y/N for me.”

“I’m going to request a new roommate.”

“Who Y/N?”

Lara was still laughing when Megan pulled the blanket over her head. 

—

It was still on Megan’s mind the next day. The lint roller incident. Y/N in her room. Lara’s words. The way she had made a fool of herself. She’d spent the better part of the night trying to convince herself it wasn’t a big deal, that Y/N’s bright laughter and nervous fidgeting didn’t matter to her anymore. That she was over that silly little crush from long ago. But it did. And she wasn’t.  

But it wasn’t like the universe to give time to collect her thoughts before she was swept up in another round of interviews. No time to catch her breath, to quiet the little voice in her head that wouldn’t stop repeating Y/N in my room. And because fate was apparently in a particularly mocking mood, Megan found herself seated right next to Y/N. The one thing she’d been so carefully avoiding since the group formed.  

She’d tried, really tried, to see if management would rearrange the seats, but all she got was a polite smile and a dismissive wave of the hand. So she sat there, back straight, hands folded in her lap like she was at a job interview. She tried to keep her face calm, her expression neutral, even though every nerve felt like it was crackling.

She wasn’t sure it was working.

Daniela and Y/N were separated too. Megan noticed it right away. She wondered if it was on purpose, if they’d both needed the distance. Or if it was just another accident of fate, one of those quiet shifts that changed everything without anyone meaning to.

Then Y/N turned to her, offering a small, slightly hesitant smile. Said something meant to be easy, small talk that should have felt simple, if Megan’s brain hadn’t completely short-circuited. Because of course it did. She tried to answer, anyway, but her words got stuck somewhere between her throat and her heart.

I’m over this stupid crush. I’m over it.

She repeated it to herself again and again, but then she’d accidentally catch Y/N’s gaze and see that polite smile. And suddenly, she’d forget what she’d been saying at all.

But if Megan thought that the small talk was awkward, she had no idea what the rest of the interview would bring.

That night, she told herself she wouldn’t look. That she didn’t need to see what the fans were saying, didn’t need to know how much of herself had slipped through the cracks. But curiosity was a sharp, undeniable thing, and before she could talk herself out of it, her phone was in her hand.

#MegY/N was trending. 

Not just a passing mention. Everywhere. Her name next to Y/N’s in every clip, every grainy photo, every soft-focus edit. 

It wasn’t the fact that people were shipping her with Y/N that made her want to hide under her blanket, however. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel a small, guilty flicker of excitement at first. She even saved a few of the posts to her bookmarks. Just to look at later, she told herself (what, a girl can’t have hobbies?). It was the sheer thoroughness of it all. 

The eyekons had dug up everything. Everything. Every glance, every quiet laugh, every time Megan tried and failed to act like she wasn’t completely, utterly captivated by Y/N. Clipped. Edited. And compiled for the world to see. 

Wonderful. 

It was really wonderful. 

Megan told herself at least it couldn’t get any worse. She was pretty wrong. 

—

Management wasted no time. The day after the interview, they were already nudging her and Y/N together again. “Casual hangouts,” they said, like it was nothing. Like it wouldn’t send that small rush of nerves through her every time she thought about it.

But then… nothing. A few weeks of calm. Enough time that Megan almost convinced herself it had all passed. That she could slip back into the routine: quiet rehearsals, polite distance. That she didn’t need to think about it anymore. About how her chest always felt a little too full when Y/N laughed, or how her breath would catch when their eyes met. Just a crush, she told herself. Harmless. Temporary. So far in the past it didn’t matter.

She almost believed it.

Until the email from management landed in her inbox. A “friendly reminder” to get some content. A not-so-subtle suggestion that she and Y/N should be seen together again. Megan read it, closed it, and sat in silence for a moment. Then she took a quiet breath and told herself: Okay. Fine. Whatever. 

She met Y/N at the coffee shop a few days later, a place that looked like it had been ripped from some influencer’s Instagram feed. Megan was early, of course. She always was. She sat at the window, fingers tracing the cardboard sleeve of her drink, telling herself it didn’t matter. That it was just another thing to tick off the list.

But every time she pictured Y/N walking in, there was a flutter in her chest she couldn’t ignore. She hated how easily she could picture Y/N not coming at all, and how that thought made her stomach dip in a way she wished it wouldn’t.

And when Y/N finally did arrive, flushed and breathless, apologies spilling out in a rush, Megan had to fight to keep her smile steady. She didn’t want Y/N to see how her heart had skipped. She didn’t want to admit to herself how much it meant, just to see that bright grin aimed right at her again. 

The coffee shop was… fine. Polished and curated, but a little too quiet. Megan found herself fidgeting with her cup, nodding along even as her mind wandered. She was nervous, she realized. Not in a bad way. Just… that small, jittery feeling she had almost forgotten how to welcome. The kind of feeling that made her wonder if maybe it wasn’t as harmless as she’d been telling herself.

So when Y/N suggested they leave, Megan didn’t hesitate. “Yeah,” she said, relief soft in her voice. “Let’s get out of here.”

The arcade was everything the coffee shop wasn’t: loud, messy, alive. With blinking lights and the echo of clattering tokens, it felt like they’d finally dropped the careful politeness and could just… exist. Megan found herself relaxing without even trying, the nervous energy in her chest settling into something that felt almost like excitement.

She watched Y/N wander the arcade, eyes shining as she flitted from game to game. Megan felt a small, tentative smile tug at her lips. She’s so easy to be around, she thought. Before quickly shutting that down. No. None of that. PR relationship, she reminded herself. Just content.

But then Y/N stopped at a claw machine, and Megan wasn’t sure what was more ridiculous: the sad little lion plush pressed against the glass or the absolute determination in Y/N’s eyes. The faint smell of popcorn and the buzz of old-school games filled the air as Megan watched Y/N dig through her pockets for change, her hands moving fast and clumsy.

“Seriously?” Megan had asked, trying to keep her voice light over the thumping music. “You’re really going to waste your money on that thing?”

“Absolutely,” Y/N said, shooting her a grin so bright it knocked the breath right out of Megan’s chest.

And Megan… well, she didn’t stand a chance.

She watched as Y/N failed miserably, again and again. And maybe if it had been someone else, Megan would have laughed at the absurdity of it all. But Y/N was so hopeful, so earnest. She wanted to win that stupid lion so badly that Megan began wanting it for her, too. 

So when Y/N handed her the last few coins, their fingers brushing for a brief second, Megan didn’t even hesitate. She could feel her cheeks warming, a quiet vow already forming in her head: I’ll win it for her. Just for her.

Megan was going to get that damn lion.

And she tried her best. She really did. She angled the claw, did a little spin trick she remembered seeing online. But the machine was rigged. She was sure of it! The claw jerked and swerved, taunting her with every failed attempt. She could feel the heat creeping up her neck, the frustration building, “This piece of trash,” she growled, barely managing to bite back a flood of much stronger words. “Come on, you useless tin can.” She thinks she might have stomped her foot. She hoped Y/N didn’t see that. 

She didn’t even notice when she started talking to the machine, muttering little threats and pleas like it was something she could will into submission. But then she heard Y/N’s startled laugh behind her and felt her ears go pink. She didn’t stop, though. She just wanted to keep that laughter going, to hold onto that spark in Y/N’s eyes a little longer.

When Megan finally gave up, the lion was still trapped behind the glass and their wallets were noticeably lighter. A robbery, indeed.

She never did like lions anyways.

She turned back to Y/N with a sigh. “You’re really… passionate about this,” Y/N teased, a spark of laughter still in her eyes. “It’s kind of cute.”

It was obvious the word slipped out casually from Y/N, but it landed on Megan like a small, gentle shock. Her breath caught, her cheeks warmed, and her hands stilled for a beat. A single heartbeat. She’d spent so long convincing herself she didn’t want this anymore. But there it was. The way Y/N looked at her. The flutter in her chest.

“You’re weird,” Megan said softly, the words coming out almost like a confession more than anything else.

Y/N just smiled, no flinching or apology, just meeting her eyes. “Takes one to know one.”

For a moment, it felt like everything else fell away. Just like the day they had met.

Megan smiled, really smiled. Not the polite one she saved for the cameras, not the one she’d practiced giving Y/N since they debuted, but something real. Something that felt like a quiet admission: I’m not over this. Maybe I don’t want to be.

She reached out and gently tugged at Y/N’s sleeve.

“Come on,” she said, her voice light, her fingers lingering a little longer than she meant. “Let’s go find a game we can actually win.”

Y/N nodded, her smile bright.

As they moved together, Megan let herself think, just for a moment. She still didn’t really believe in love at first sight. She’d seen too much of the world to trust in something like that. And she still didn’t know what was really going on between Y/N and Daniela. Maybe she never would. But as she held onto Y/N’s sleeve, pulling her away from the claw machine and the lion still taunting them, and into the next bright game, she began to think that was alright.

It wasn’t love. Not yet. But she began to believe that maybe, it could be. 

Whatever that might bring.

—

tumblr try to not ruin the quality of my images challenger: impossible

listen to. nothing today, might sneak in a rec another day

[strwberri-milk]

Could you do one for Caleb, Sylus and Zayne, where they're S/O (who doesn't live with them) calls them during a really late work meeting or something, clearly distressed and shaken, because of something that happened (wanderer attack/almost getting mugged/or whatever else) and ran to their apartment cause it felt safer, not realising that her man isn't home atm, that she wouldn't be able to go in (since she either forgot or doesn't have a key).

Caleb definitely has some sort of remote mechanism to lock/unlock his house. He'd pick up your call the second he gets it - the only reason why he'd miss it is if he didn't see the message but he's calling and texting back the second he notices you've called. If you've left a message he'll immediately go to look at the cameras at his home, unlocking the door remotely and texting you to go inside. If you're on the phone with him he'll unlock his doors as he's talking to you, then tell you to go inside and wait for him in his room. He wants you to be curled up in his plush sheets, heading home as soon as you're calling for him. He doesn't say much as he wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly as you cry and sob into his arms.

Even if Sylus isn't home, if the twins are they'll let you in no questions asked. They'd also alert Sylus even if you already have, knowing that there's only so much they can do to distract you before you're missing him again. If nobody's home then he's also got a remote way to unlock his house and was probably alerted the second you set foot on his property. You don't get a chance to call before you hear his voice coming from a speaker somewhere nearby, telling you to go inside and he'll be home as soon as he can to see you.

Zayne is unfortunately the only one who doesn't have a remote lock. He sees your call and would tell you to either go home and he'll come to you as soon as he's done, or come to the hospital and sit in his office until he can go home with you. He wants to be there for you, but he also is at the mercy of his patients. He'll try to get to your side as soon as he can, but you might have to wait a bit unfortunately. After this incident though he'll make sure to give you a key to his place, just in case something similar happens in the future, reassuring you that you're always welcome in his home.

[lascvitae]

BOUT MINE ✵ LARA RAJ.

❀ ༉ ‧ ₊ ˚ alt. I BET YOU KNOW I

DON’T PLAY ABOUT MINE .ᐟ

ᝰ.ᐟ during katseye’s calvin klein shoot, a guy asks for a photo with you — and lara shuts it down before you can give a proper answer.

ᝰ.ᐟ pairing. lara x 7th member of katseye!reader ᝰ.ᐟ genre. fluff ᝰ.ᐟ warnings/tags. jealous && pouty lara, kissing

ᝰ.ᐟ wc 2.9k

ᝰ.ᐟ katty katseye x calvin klein when... also requested by anon

(🎧) now playing — bout mine by mariah the scientist.

masterlist.

THE AIR IN THE STUDIO IS THICK. you can feel the heat from the lights, hear the buzz of cameras clicking, and someone calling for more gloss. you’re standing in front of a white backdrop in calvin klein briefs and a white tank top, and the hem of the shirt just barely covers anything. it clings to your body like it knows who’s watching.

and you know who’s watching.

lara hasn’t taken her eyes off you once.

she’s off to the side, still in her solo set outfit: jeans and a calvin sports bra with one arm slung over the back of a metal stool. there’s a bottle of water in her hand she hasn’t touched. she’s just sat there the whole time, gaze fixed on you like she’s not in a studio surrounded by stylists, lighting techs, and your bandmates.

you flick your eyes toward her mid pose. she doesn’t flinch or look away. she smirks.

“lift your arms just a little. perfect. chin down, eyes right here.” the photographer says.

you hold the pose and let your mouth fall open just slightly. and still, somewhere behind all of the heat coming down onto you, you can feel lara’s stare dragging down your legs.

it’s not the first time she’s seen you in this outfit, but it’s the first time anyone else has.

you’re toweling off sweat and oil near the monitor when someone taps your shoulder.

“hey.” he says while grinning. it’s one of the male models from the joint campaign. you’ve spoken, like, twice.

“you killed it. wanna get a shot together?” he adds.

you raise an eyebrow. “a photo?”

“yeah. just us. for the campaign. you looked… insane.” he glances down your body slowly, running a hand through his hair afterwards.

then he laughs like it’s a compliment. like lara isn’t standing ten feet away.

you glance down at yourself — tank still sticking to every curve, briefs showing just enough — then back up at him.

“insane, huh?”

he smiles again. “yeah. you’ve got good chemistry. we’d kill a frame.”

your lips twitch. you’re two seconds from saying something unserious — maybe “you couldn’t handle it” — when a voice cuts in coming from just behind him.

“she said no.”

he turns slightly.

lara’s standing now.

she must’ve moved while he was talking, because she’s right there, still in her calvin sports bra and jeans, arms crossed under her chest, not smiling. her eyes flick from his face to yours and back, slow and sharp, and her expression is unreadable.

the kind of unreadable that makes people nervous.

“she didn’t say anything yet.” the model says, trying to keep it light.

“she doesn’t need to.”

he laughs. awkward. “didn’t mean to step on any toes.”

her jaw ticks. “then don’t.”

you press your lips together to hide the smile threatening to break out onto your face. you love this version of her — cool, protective, and intimidating.

the guy mumbles something like “got it” and backs off without another word.

only once he’s fully gone and out of view does lara finally exhale. her arms drop from her chest and she moves toward you with a sigh.

you tilt your head. “you good?”

she frowns at your water bottle. “you let him stand too close.”

you laugh. “you were right there.”

“he was flirting with you.” she says, voice quiet but pouty.

you smile a little. “maybe. you were watching?”

she rolls her eyes. “i always watch.”

you lean closer, hand brushing her wrist. “and?”

lara’s lips purse dramatically. “and he was touching his hair. who even does that?”

you laugh and she frowns even more, bottom lip stuck out just a bit. she shifts her weight like she’s still a little annoyed. it’s like she’s trying to be mad but barely holding the pout back.

“i didn’t like the way he looked at you.”

“i liked the way you looked at me.”

her breath hitches and you squeeze her hand. “cmere.”

she steps closer automatically and you lean in to press a kiss, soft, short, and sweet, right to her mouth.

her eyes flutter closed for just a second.

and when you pull back, her lip gloss is on your mouth and her face is just a little less tense.

“still mad?” you whisper.

lara shrugs, but it’s useless. she’s already leaning into you again.

“you’re so dramatic.” you murmur, tugging her hand.

“he was annoying.”

“you’re jealous.”

“not jealous. i just don’t like sharing.” she says, eyes flicking down your tank top like she’s lying.

you smile wider. “you don’t have to. i’m all yours, remember?”

she hums, lashes fluttering. “say it again.”

you say it softer. “i’m yours.”

she tugs the hem of your tank a little lower, like it suddenly bothers her how much skin is showing. “good. then don’t let anyone else look at you like that.”

and even though it’s barely above a whisper, you feel it all over.

taglist — @saysirhc @m00nqvv @yuyuy90

[rafeslittlepup]

“father’s day w rafey & our feral baby bunnies 🍼” tiktok

“hi bunnies 💌 it’s 6am and i’m sneaking around bc the babies and i are surprising daddy for father’s day ” she whispers into the camera

she’s in her little baby pink apron making rafe’s breakfast. thick protein pancakes, like six eggs, black coffee, bacon stacked like a tower, and steak. the kids are “helping” by throwing flour at each other.

“we tried to make breakfast but it got violent really fast”

she walks in the room holding the tray, rafe groggy in bed, shirtless. he just gives her this crooked smirk like “you really did all this huh?”

“he tried to act chill but i KNOW he got choked up ”

she gives him a little diy gift box from the boys, handmade cards, a “#1 DAD” keychain one of the twins tried to eat, and framed photo of bunny and babies at the beach

“the boys made him cards but like… i wrote them”

she packs a picnic for “daddy’s special lake day” with those glass strawberry milks and heart-shaped sandwiches. rafe is on dad duty, buckling all four kids into the car.

rafe teaching jamie to fish, rosie is cuddled with bunnywife, she’s reading valley of the dolls

“i didn’t touch a single worm. i’m just here to be cute 🐇”

family dinner at the country club, rafe is in his tan linen shirt, she’s in a puff-sleeve ivory sundress feeding him bites of cake

“he said this was the best father’s day ever!”

soft candlelight, kids asleep, rafe on the porch smoking a cigar while she puts her feet in his lap.

“happy father’s day to the man who gave me the most cherub little bunnies 🐇🍼🪽

💬

@footballhubdad84: Bro living the life fr

@colten_sucks: why does rhett look like he bites

@momsoverdosing: I saw rafe and ovulated. that’s not normal

@princessgoth: get this man off my fyp. i am spiraling

@sundaypicnicprincess: her wrapping sandwiches in lace napkins… i wanna be her so bad

a/n: i kinda hate this

[five-and-dimes]

I'll probably never actually do anything with this so I'm throwing into the void and making it public domain.

Johanna Constantine is a photographer who does a lot of boudoir photography. One day she gets a client who is doing some boudoir wedding photos for his fiancé. Hob is very charismatic and outgoing but also very self-deprecating- the large smile and laughter doesn't change his words "my soon-to-be-husband looks like royalty and I'm mister peasant over here so I figured I'd gift him some pics of me actually looking like I'm even close to the same league."

Johanna huffs and rolls her eyes as she does and makes extra sure that her client is feeling good about himself by the end, giving him a slap on the back on his way out and a gruff "if he doesn't think you're gorgeous you should ditch him at the alter."

A day or two later, she has another boudoir wedding shoot. Morpheus is stoic and poised but also tense and nervous, "My fiancé is. Stunning. Gorgeous. Like something out of a painting," he sighs sadly and looks down at his hands, "I feel like a corpse next to him. So I thought... maybe you could help make me look more...?"

Johanna has no intention of editing this man to Hell like he seems to want, and she has a proven track record of stubbornness, so she makes him go through the shoot and makes him look stunning exactly as he is. She's good at her job. And when he leaves she softens just enough to send him off with a quick "cheer up, mate. He sounds like a good fellow. I bet he sees you better than you think."

A few weeks later, she gets a frantic call from a friend- Lucienne explains that her best friend's wedding photographer dropped last minute, and while of course if Johanna is busy or cannot do it she would not fault her but it would really mean so much and her friend is loaded so she'll probably get paid extra-

Johanna will deny that she had been packing up her camera as soon as she heard Lucienne's stressed voice. It was definitely the money that got her moving. Definitely.

It is honestly a little infuriating spending hours taking photos of Morpheus and Hob- the two clients who were each convinced that the other didn't find them attractive- making absolute heart eyes at each other. Her camera roll is filled to the brim of snapshots of each of them looking at the other like the most beautiful things in the world. All love and adoration and- she would be charging extra for these pics- undisguised lust as the night goes on and the champagne starts to hit them.

It's obvious that they're made for each other. The two biggest idiots in the world they were. Both of them so blatant in their attraction and both of them completely oblivious to the other's.

She was definitely charging them extra.

[giuliannna]

EYES WIDE SHUT

inspired by this request and novacane by frank ocean

“fuck me good, fuck me long, fuck me numb — love me now, when i’m gone, love me none”

you’re laid out on hamzah’s bed, back arched, mouth parted, barely breathing.

your thighs are slick and trembling. your lip’s glossy and bitten raw. his cum is still dripping out of you from earlier, but he’s already got two fingers back inside, moving slow and deep.

his rhythm is steady. he’s working you open for the camera, not for himself.

speaking of, you’d almost forgotten that the camera’s on.

a little camera is propped up on the dresser. little red light on, shooting you, filming you, despite the fact that hamzah hasn’t said a word in ten minutes.

the only sound filling the bedroom is you around his fingers and your breath catching every time he crooks them just right. the air smells like weed and sweat and leftover cologne. there’s a movie playing in the background, muted and pointless.

you stare at the ceiling.

“hamzah?” you whisper.

he doesn’t answer.

you blink hard, trying to ground yourself, but everything feels foggy, too far away. like you’re not even inside your body anymore - just some girl with her legs spread on camera.

and he’s eating it up.

he looks at you, eyes heavy. mouth slack. you don’t know if he’s high or just gone. you don’t ask, because you don’t want to know.

he leans down and kisses your knee. then your inner thigh. then your clit, once, soft. “you good?” he asks, low and quiet.

you nod. “are you?”

he shrugs. “dunno.”

and then he grabs the camera off the dresser and brings it closer - angles it above your pussy while he pulls his fingers out and spits on you. he watches through the screen as it drips down, mixing with the rest of the mess between your legs.

you moan. you’re not sure if it’s for him or the video.

he smirks a little. just a twitch of his lip. “say you want it,” he murmurs, eyes on the screen.

you swallow. “want it,” you whisper.

he flips you over without warning, presses your face into the mattress, and slides into you from behind - slow and deep. your jaw drops. you’re already so stretched, so raw, but you take it.

his camera’s still in his hand, filming the way your ass bounces with every thrust. “fuck,” he mutters. “look at you.”

he grips your hips harder, angling deeper. you cry out, nails digging into the sheets. he moans behind you, but it sounds distant. like he’s still not really here. like he’s just watching.

“this what you wanted?” he breathes. “you like being my fucking movie?”

you nod into the pillow, choking on your own moans.

“say it.”

“yes - yes, i wanted it-”

“yeah,” he says. “figured.”

his hold on your waist is brutal now, fingers leaving bruises you’ll feel for days.

your face is buried in the sheets, your thighs shaking every time he drives back into you. your pussy is swollen, overstimulated, stretched wide around his cock - and the little red light is still blinking torturously.

you don’t even know how long it’s been by now.

thirty minutes? an hour? two hours?

all you know is your body keeps giving, taking whatever he gives you, opening up even when it shouldn’t be able to anymore.

you sob into the mattress. not from pain. not from pleasure. from everything at once.

“that’s it,” he breathes behind you, voice all low and fucked-out. “you’re pretty like this.”

he sounds like he’s watching a film. like he’s narrating your body instead of touching it.

he reaches under you, grabs your hair, pulls your head up and turns your face toward the lens. the camera catches your lips parted, lashes wet, eyes unfocused.

“smile,” he mutters.

you try. it’s just shaky. broken.

his breath stutters behind you. he leans down, presses his chest to your back, cock still buried inside, and whispers right into your ear, “you’re fucking perfect.”

you whine, eyelids fluttering. you can’t even be sure if he actually means that. he’s not in the right headspace to be saying things like that.

he starts moving again, dragging every inch out just to shove it back in harder. the bed creaks. your body jerks with every thrust. your moans aren’t even moans anymore - just wrecked little noises, sharp breaths, empty sounds trying to fill the silence.

“fuck, she’s shaking,” he mumbles, talking to the camera now. “look at her. can barely take it.”

you clench around him, thighs spasming.

“you gonna cum again?” he asks, hand snaking down to rub your clit. “just like this?”

“hamzah, fuck - i can’t, i can’t-”

“yes, you can,” he grinds out harshly.

you shatter. legs trembling, mouth open, eyes rolled back. he keeps fucking you through it, rubbing your clit harder until you’re twitching away, crying out, whole body giving out under him.

you go limp. and that’s when he cums.

with a groan in your ear and a brutal thrust that punches a moan out of both of you, he spills inside, cock twitching as he holds you down and fucks it deep into you.

you both go still, breathing heavy. the room is spinning. he finally sets the camera down and collapses beside you, burying his face in your neck. he’s hot. sweaty. shaking a little.

you’re silent.

then you whisper, voice soft, “do you feel better now?”

he exhales slow. “..no.”

the room is too quiet now. the movie’s still on. some actor is crying on screen while you lie face down, cheek pressed to the sheets, your body twitching every now and then from the aftershocks.

hamzah’s next to you, quiet, eyes fixed on the ceiling like it’s trying to say something he can’t hear.

the camera is facedown on the sheets. recording stopped. screen dark. but the image of you on it lingers in both your minds. your moans, your body, your face all numb.

he doesn’t touch you. you don’t ask him to.

your thighs are sticky with his cum. your breath’s still uneven. your heart’s not racing anymore, but it doesn’t feel steady either.

you finally speak. “was i good?”

he turns his head and looks at you like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again.

you blink slow, lashes damp. “like.. did it help you?”

he swallows. jaw clenched. “don’t ask me that.”

“why not?”

“because i don’t know.”

silence again.

you pull the blanket up over your chest. not because you’re cold, but because you suddenly feel too seen. like being naked in front of him now means something it didn’t a few minutes ago.

he turns to you, eyes tired. he looks like he wants to say something, but is ultimately holding it in. you just keep staring at the ceiling.

he leans over, grabs a shirt from the floor, and hands it to you wordlessly. you take it. pull it on slowly and try not to tremble.

when he lies back down beside you, he doesn’t touch you again - but he’s closer this time. close enough to feel the heat off his skin. close enough to pretend this was more than a fuck with a camera rolling.

you close your eyes.

xoxo giulia

taglist: @gulicore @slushedup @arroganceisherfavoritecolor @layzerzlovesu46 @babysitter19 @marixoa @starjely @viennawaiits @h-yalexaaaa @freakzah444 @anginluv @gabwilliams @sturniyolo @screamertannie @brlwla @yourstrulykiya @angelegss @hamzaholic @isathefantastic @divinesturn @forestlv4r @mayapuma20 @ottakugirl @hamzahsbestone @pulcen @rustnroll @venus-planetof-love @hamzahsn1gf @rock678 @wandas-lovey @guiltyfemcel @axetheboyboss @harrys0nlyange1 @ttlynotme @yassqueen1303 @animalcrossingshameless @opiumfidgetspinner @pictureperfectblue @slushingmynoob @vampzah @ilovezah @wh1speringstarr

[averagefilmdude]

Open rp!!

Scott had been walking around, his camera in hand, as he looked for things to photograph. He hadn’t been out to do this in a while, not after everything that went down with Ace. Hell, he’d barely left his bed, let alone his house. But he kept thinking about what someone said to him, that he needed to move on. Although a part of him wanted to sink into his bed and hoped this was all a bad dream, he had to face reality sooner or later. And Ace was moving on with her life, why couldn’t he? Even though Scott knew he was in the wrong, bed rotting wasn’t gonna help anyone.

The sky was a nice dark blue, and hints of stars were starting to come out. The air was a little chilly, but Scott was wearing a hoodie as always. The blonde chose to wander the streets, even if it wasn’t the smartest decision, but even if he didn’t get a picture, he needed to get out of the house.

All of it reminded him of things he didn’t need. His room reeked with depression, neglected for weeks. The picture that Marc gave him of the two that now sat on his desk, the last friend he had. His machine beeped at him with ignored voice messages from JD. The calendar that hung on his wall reminded him of Father’s Day, which meant acknowledging the bastard.

The blonde wasn’t sure why he was ignoring everyone, not that he had many people to ignore, but knew he needed to clear his head. The only person that’d care would be JD, but he couldn’t be that mad at Scott once the blonde explained why he suddenly went MIA, right? Eh, Scott would cross that bridge when he came to it.

For now he was enjoying having some time to himself, soaking in the wind that waved through his freshly, and finally, washed hair.

Scott soon enough came across a quiet park. It was small, had some trees around, a small playground. Kind of reminded him of Kansas. Kansas. Somewhere that’d always be his home no matter what happened in Ohio. That thought was comforting to the 17 year old. Because of the late time on a Wednesday night, the park was empty, which was a good thing for Scott.

He went and sat down at the highest place on the playground. It gave him a good view of the sky above and the stars that were slowly becoming more visible as time passed. Scott remembered a close friend from Kansas talking his ear off on a playground like this about stars and constellations and such. The memory sparked a warmness in Scott. God, what he wouldn’t give to be back there.

[gotta-winwin]

typo and error | SHOWBIZ COLLAB

⭐ starring: joshua hong 💌 genre: fluff, angst | wc: 3.7k

💬 preview: Joshua loves his job as social media manager for The Carat Company, except for one thing: the actress he’s in charge of. you hate his guts, and Joshua swears he returns those feelings with vigor, and yet…forced to work in close proximity, Joshua’s forced to reckon with the idea that just maybe, despite all the animosity, he’s still madly in love with you. 

cw/tw: social media manager!joshua x actress!reader, mutual pining, oblivious idiots in love, enemies to lovers(?), light swearing, bit of crack, miscommunication trope, only one bed, brainrot hoshi, menace jeonghan

🪽fic rating: pg ☁️ masterlist & a/n: this is in direct correlation with @straylightdream's fic for the same collab! i feel so honoured to be apart of this wonderful community and i cannot believe it is finally time to share with you all this piece of work-- this collab was the beginning of it all for me: a thousand laughs and inside jokes, found family and forever friends. i am beyond grateful to be standing next to these wonderful writers and people. forever grateful to @studioeisa and @diamonddaze01 for being the tumblr parents i never knew i needed <3

now playing: tonight (i wish i was your boy) by the 1975

new actress y/n violet l/n looks absolutely grotesque in new photos from set. 

Joshua swears on his life and all things good that he meant to type gorgeous. 

He had half the mind to call Apple Services himself and complain about the terrible timing autocorrect had, as he sat in Wonwoo’s office, their company’s stern CEO staring at him from across his meticulously organized desk. 

“You’re telling me you managed to sour our new talent’s name in less than an hour of working her socials.”

Joshua lowered his gaze. “Yes.” 

Wonwoo pinched the bridge of his nose in a twinge of despair with annoyance swimming on his face. “Joshua, I cannot emphasize this enough. Our partnership with Ms. Y/N Violet needs to work. It has to.” 

“And it will.” Joshua nodded vehemently, trying to emphasize his false confidence in the matter. “I’ve got it, boss. Trust me.” Or don’t. Joshua didn’t really know what he was doing. 

Wonwoo sends him out with a few words that borderline as a threat. Words that sounded like don’t fuck this up, please and your job is on the line. 

Joshua swipes into Twitter and sees the amount of people who had screenshotted his mistake and posted it online. 

Poor social media guy, someone wrote. Don’t hate him for his fat thumbs! At least we got a good laugh. 

“Fuck me.” Joshua dials Jihoon’s number and prays the man picks up. “Hey, Hoon. I need a favour.”  

The actress I work for is going to hate me. 

“Hey.” 

It’s awkward when Joshua walks into your trailer on set. You’re poised on the makeup chair, your eyes closed as your makeup artist dusted pale pink shadow over your eyelids. You recognize his voice, and your eyebrows pinch. 

“Mr. Hong. You’re late.” You supposed it was unprofessional of you to still hold a grudge for Joshua’s social media mistake, but you couldn’t help it. 

“There was a hold up at the company.” Joshua tries his best to remain civil. There was just something about your face that infuriated him. It was too…perfect. Too pretty. 

He raises his camera and waits for you to pose in the perfected candid pose every actor and actress was taught. To look just the right amount of ‘caught off guard.’ Joshua snaps a few photos before throwing you a thumbs up. 

You motion for him to leave. “I need to rehearse my lines. In peace.” You add the last part pointedly, glancing at him through the mirror. 

He sits on the couch of your trailer, glasses perched on his nose that he looks at you with. He gives you a curt nod and exits. 

Ever the gentleman. 

But you knew that it was all a scheme. 

y/n violet l/n stuns in new photos captured on set. 

Joshua makes sure to double check, triple check, the caption before sending it out this time. 

He’s tried so hard to be nothing but perfect in the few months he had been working for you, as if each action could make up for the disaster of an entrance he had given you on their company’s social media page. 

Joshua made sure your favourite drinks and snacks were in your trailer before your arrival. He painstakingly edited every minute flaw from your photos. He kept eyeliner, lipgloss and a spare hair tie in his bag. He never complained when you asked him to reshoot a billion more photos. 

Yet for some reason, you were unwilling to forget the incident. It was clear to Joshua that you hated him. 

“Thanks.” You mutter as he hands you your morning cup of iced tea, stabbing the straw into the cup for you, mixing the ice just right. You pretend not to notice how Joshua has somehow learnt all your habits and preferences to a T within just a few months. 

He wordlessly hands you a napkin before you even ask. 

“Hey, Vi. You’re on set in 5.” The 1st AD pokes her head in to call you. 

“Okay, thanks.” 

Joshua takes your cup and napkin flawlessly and helps you down the steps. 

You hate how perfect he is.

He hates how he can feel himself caring about this job more than he should. 

fans rave over y/n violet’s assistant: internet calls him her prince-in-waiting. 

“I feel like you’re being underpaid.” Wonwoo says the next time Joshua finds himself in his office. “I hear from the rest of the staff that you’ve been doing other jobs.” 

Joshua doesn’t know what his boss is saying, and it’s evident on his face. 

“You’re not just Ms. L/N’s social media manager, you’re also her assistant and bodyguard.” Wonwoo explains, and Joshua realizes he’s got a point. 

“Oh.” 

“I’m surprised you haven’t come to me for a raise, Josh.” Wonwoo states quite frankly. “You’ve always been very good at advocating for yourself.” 

He shrugs. “It doesn’t really feel like a job.”

And the look on Wonwoo’s face tells him he’s said too much. 

“Really.” There’s an unmistakable smirk on Wonwoo’s face, the 5 - 9 Wonwoo peeking through the 9 - 5 Wonwoo for just a second. “Taking such good care of her doesn’t feel like a job.”

Joshua’s quick to backtrack. “No, I mean– I like my job.”

“Sure.” It’s obvious he doesn’t believe him.

Fuck me, Joshua thinks silently. 

Joshua can feel himself burning holes into the back of Jeonghan’s head as the man resurfaces from kissing you. 

“Cut!” He can hear the director yelling for the scene to end in the distance, yet all his senses are trained on you. 

How you pressed yourself into Jeonghan’s hold, melted into the kiss, let out the sweetest gasp into his lips. Joshua hated all of it. He hated how it made him feel. 

He watches Jeonghan whisper something into your ear, a hand brushing against your hair. 

Joshua glanced down only to realize he had been squeezing the paper cup filled with coffee in his hands, the contents slowly overflowing and dripping onto the floor. 

He looks back up and catches you looking at him.

“Fuck me.” 

You break away from Jeonghan as soon as you hear the cue from the director. 

“You alright?” Jeonghan’s quick to check in. 

You nod. “You?”

It’s an unspoken thing between the two of you, checking in with your onscreen counterpart in between work days and takes. “I’m good.” Jeonghan glances behind you and bites back a smile. “I’d say your social media guy isn’t though.” 

“Mr. Hong?” You flit your eyes over to the man in question. He’s standing near the side, your afternoon coffee in his hands and a scowl on his face. “Yeah, I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

“He’s in love with you.” Jeonghan says it as plainly as if he had just stated tomorrow’s weather. 

You choke on air. “What?” 

Jeonghan nears, his breath tickling your ear as he fixes your hair gently. “Look at how he tenses when I near you. How his eyebrows furrow. How he looks like he wants to murder me from across the room.” 

You look, and for a second, you see it too. 

And then you blink, and it’s gone. “You’re imagining things, Hannie.” 

Your social media guy does not love you. 

It’s the dead of night when Joshua lugs your suitcase into your hotel room. He sets it down and pats it awkwardly, scanning the room for any visible threats. He’s grown accustomed to his role in your life. He still hates how it makes him feel towards you– the feelings of love that he continues to push down until they disappear– but he’s content with his job. Wonwoo did end up giving him a raise for it. 

He was now your social media manager/personal assistant/bodyguard. The paycheck was exponentially high. 

“Of course, you forget to book yourself a room.” There’s a light tease in your tone as you stare at the one bed in the giant penthouse suite. 

“Sorry.” Is all he has to offer in response. He had forgotten, in the midst of all the press releases he had to manage with the movie trailer coming out, he had only thought of booking you a room and not him. “I’ll sleep on the floor.” 

You give him a look he can’t decipher. “No.” 

Joshua blinks. “Huh?” 

“I’m not making you sleep on the floor, Hong. We can both sleep on the bed. Just stick to your side.” 

He nods, ignoring the feeling that the two of you had just crossed into some unspeakable, unknown territory. 

He doesn’t know it, but you feel it too. 

It’s strange to see him out of his usual business attire. 

You’re trying not to stare at him from above your computer screen, but you fail, eyeing the casual wear your work counterpart has on. Joshua is concentrating on something on his phone, his lips twitching as his eyes move briskly over its contents.

“Stop staring.” 

You flinch when you’re caught. “I wasn’t.”

He laughs, and the sound startles you. “I can feel your beady little eyes on me, missy.” He teases, smiling at your insulted expression. 

“Do not insult me like that, Mr. Hong– you work for me, remember?” 

“Oh, do I now?” 

There’s a moment of silence as the two of you look at one another, sharing a secret smile before both quickly turning away. 

He swears at that moment he’s in love with you, and he hates that it’s true. 

You swear you hate him under your breath. You hate how you know it’s a lie. 

The sun begins to set as Joshua hands you your nightly cup of tea. Made just the way you like it, a dash of sugar and a spoonful of honey. 

He sits beside you and turns to look at you with determination on his face. “Can I ask you a question?” 

You frown. “Sure?” 

The question that comes out of his mouth is unexpected and a nice surprise. “Have you always wanted to be an actress?” 

“Yes.” You answer immediately. “Have you always wanted to be a…” You blank at his job title. A personal assistant? A bodyguard? Basically a boyfriend? Instead, you settle with the safest option. “...a social media manager?” 

Joshua thinks a beat too long before answering. “I guess.” 

“That doesn’t sound all too convincing.” 

“I mean– I don’t think anyone grows up wanting to be a social media manager.” 

He has a point. “What did you want to be then?”

Joshua thinks for a bit, as if the memory was already long gone and too distant to recover. “Astronaut, or something silly like that.” 

“I don’t think that’s silly. I mean–” You backtrack. “Everyone told me being an actress was a silly dream, but I’m here now.”

There’s a sour look on his face. “And I’m your social media manager.” 

“Yeah, a fucking good one.” 

He visibly brightens. “Really?” 

“I mean, you did mess up big time on that one post, but–”

“I am sorry about that.” He grimaces, and you know he really does feel bad. 

“You called me grotesque.” 

“I typed it wrong and stupid autocorrect–” 

You laugh at his indignant expression. “I’m joking, Joshua.” 

He joins in, and neither one of you notices how you had just called him by his first name. 

You look radiant in the mornings. Joshua swears on all things good and true that you cannot be real, and that you’re most certainly nothing short of an angel. 

“Good morning.” His morning voice catches you off guard. 

You turn around in bed to face him, momentarily stunned by the limited amount of space between the two of you. His hair is pushed in all directions, his eyes lazy and filled with sleep, yet– 

“Fuck me,” you think to yourself. Your social media guy was hot. But that had to just be the morning delirium talking. 

“You’re staring again.” He comments, his lips quivering into a tiny smile. “You’ve been doing that a lot.” 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

“No.” You deny it once more. “I am not staring.” 

“Sure. Sure.” He reaches a hand over and moves a piece of hair away from your face.

You blink as he moves away. “Shut up.”

The banter comes as easy as hating him once did. And as the two of you watch the sun begin to rise again, you start thinking that maybe loving him can be just as easy too. 

y/n violet l/n eats up the red carpet with new look. 

You’re dazzling on the red carpet, and Joshua spends most of his time trying to stop his mouth from hanging open. 

He raises the camera and waits for you to fix your dress. 

“Is this okay?” You look at him, fingers toying with the hem of your skirt, the bodice of your dress cinching your waist uncomfortably. Your movement is limited as you attempt to adjust the fabric of your dress down to cover more of your legs. 

Joshua wordlessly steps in to help. He moves the fabric with practiced precision, his fingers brushing against your upper thigh as he steps away again. 

“It’s perfect.” He reassures you, raising his camera once more. “C’mon, work the camera, pretty.” 

Smiling for pictures comes easy when it’s Joshua behind the camera. 

He hums contently as he studies the photos. “Perfect.” Offering you his arm, Joshua escorts you into the venue. 

Neither one of you comments on the multiple compliments the two of you received throughout the event. How every single person that walked up to you mentioned how perfect he looked by your side. 

The sky is dark and crying by the time you’re ready to leave. 

Joshua holds his coat over your head, careful not to disturb the delicate headpiece sitting in your hair. You watch him study the pouring rain, as if calculating the best way to deliver you to the car. 

“I’m going to have to carry you.” He ultimately decides.

You gape at the suggestion. “What?”

He shrugs, pointing down at your feet and the diamond encrusted heels adorning them. “Neither one of us can afford your shoes getting soaked in the rain— what are those? A billion dollars as footwear?”

He swings you into his arms effortlessly and begins the trek. 

Rain hits his back as he carries you to the car, his hair sticking to his forehead as he blinks rainwater out from his eyes. You can’t help but stare and appreciate the moment for what it is. 

“Thank you, Joshua.” You whisper, as he gently sets you into the passenger seat of your van. 

He shoots you a bright smile. “Anytime. Fasten your seatbelt, princess.” He slides into the driver’s seat, reaching over to fix the tiara sitting in your hair. 

Your stomach flips. Fuckkk. 

y/n violet l/n and her prince-in-waiting spotted in a fairytale moment after gala. 

The headlines are everywhere in the morning. 

“People think we’re together, they’re calling it some fairytale romance come to life.” Your eyes read the comments left by fans faster than your brain can comprehend them. “Are you seeing this?”

You look up to see Joshua staring blankly at his phone. 

“Joshua!” You nudge him from his stupor. “The masses think we’re in love. Do something about it!” 

He blinks. “Like what?”

“I don’t know? You’re the social media guy, don’t you guys have some kind of handbook for situations like this? Release a statement or something–” You point an accusatory finger his way. “I told you carrying me like that last night was a bad idea.” 

There’s a shit eating expression on his face that you urge to smack away. “And what if we don’t?” He tests the waters. Hook, line–

“What?”

“What if we don’t release a statement?” 

“People think we’re in love.” 

“So? Maybe they're right.”

 And…sinker. His heart threatens to jump out of his ass. 

No one had more effectively rendered you silent than Joshua had right now. “I- what?” 

Joshua stares at you for a count of three. The bravery that had overtaken him a few seconds ago was gone now, and he was trying to muster up the courage to say something– anything. 

The first two notes of Bruno Mars’s Just The Way You Are starts playing and Joshua flushes, grabbing his phone to answer the call. “Hello?” 

Jihoon’s voice crackles to life. “You know you need to report this type of shit to me, right? Your HR department? Now– I would recommend you to not date the actress you’re working for, but since that’s already been done–”

Joshua cuts him off. “What– no, we’re not dating.” He darts his eyes to look over at you. You’re pointedly avoiding eye contact. “It’s just internet gossip.” 

“Right.” 

Joshua wonders what kind of things Wonwoo was telling the rest of the department heads if Jihoon also sounded like he didn’t believe him. 

“Well, as long as you’re not dating.” Jihoon concludes the call. “Bye.” 

Joshua lowers the phone to look at you. 

The moment’s over. You both can feel it. 

y/n violet, looking ravishing on set, answers questions at Buzzfeed. 

You don’t see Joshua for the next two weeks. 

He’s still posting snippets from the press tour you and Jeonghan are currently on, busy promoting your new movie, but the man himself has gone radio silent. 

You imagine he’s regretting the last night the two of you had spent together. 

“So? Maybe they're right.” 

You find yourself spinning the conversation over and over in the back of your head, as you rehearse your answers for the next interview. You overanalyze it, again and again, until you can’t tell the difference between what actually happened and what you’ve created in your head. 

It’s the way he had so quickly shut down the idea of dating you to Jihoon that stuck with you the most. The tone. The swiftness of his words. The lack of hesitation. 

Your temporary assistant hands you your morning coffee, and you take a sip. It’s too strong, too murky, not nearly enough ice. 

You find yourself missing Joshua. You recount every little snide comment you had ever made at him and feel that wave of regret, over and over. 

But buried deep within that regret is embarrassment, and it reigns far superior. The little voice inside your head whispers seeds into your mind. He probably hates you now. You’ve been nothing but rude, and awful, and dismissive. 

Your phone buzzes to life, and you see his name on the caller ID. 

You feel like throwing up as you let it ring. 

Joshua stares at the video of your latest interview and lets out a heavy sigh. 

You’ve been dodging his calls. Joshua hates to say it, but he understands. A big time actress, being caught on social media and accused of dating her glorified butler. 

He doesn’t know what possessed him to keep calling you, but he does. Once before clocking in to work. Once clocking out. Once before bed. 

Soonyoung tells him it’s pathetic. It probably is. 

“You need to let her go, man.” Soonyoung tells him as they leave the office building. “Is she really worth all this groveling?” 

“She’s worth everything.” Joshua finds himself admitting. 

“Shit, bro.” Their marketing manager fixes him with sympathetic eyes. “You’re so cooked.” 

Joshua frowns. “What does that even mean?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Wonwoo made the whole marketing team take this seminar on the new internet codes.” Soonyoung slaps him on the back. “If she’s worth that much to you, then show her.” 

“How? She won’t even pick up my calls. And our schedules barely line up anymore.” 

Soonyoung dangles his phone between his fingertips. “You’re the social media guy, right?” 

There’s a wicked spark behind those eyes. Fuck. 

y/n violet’s prince-in-waiting steps into the spotlight: is this love or just workplace loyalty?

You’re somewhere in Singapore getting ready for another interview when Jeonghan breaks into your trailer with a manic smile on his face. “Look at this article that just came out.” He thrusts his phone into your face. 

You blink at the headline. “What–”

“Your prince-in-waiting just blew up the whole internet.” 

You blitz through the article in record speed, catching snippets and quotes from Joshua. 

Working for her was a nightmare. Violet’s spoiled, high-maintenance, an all around princess. 

You push his phone away. “I don’t want to read all that.” 

Jeonghan groans. “Don’t just glance at it, read it. Like actually.” 

Working for her was a nightmare– I was forced to confront the reality that I wasn’t just doing all of it for the paycheck, I was doing it for her. 

Violet’s spoiled, high-maintenance, an all around princess– but that was okay. I didn’t mind it. I liked maintaining her. 

And finally, the last quote in the article. 

“I suppose when you spend that much time staring at one person’s photos… falling a bit in love with them is inevitable.” 

You blink. “Ava?” 

Your temporary assistant raises her head. “Yes?” 

“I need you to get Mr. Hong on the next flight over here.” 

y/n violet takes movie premiere by storm– bringing her prince-in-waiting as her plus one. 

Despite all that has changed in your relationship with Joshua, these events still remain the same.

He still gets on his knees to take the perfect pictures of you in your dress. He still brings you drinks whenever he notices you’re parched. Still carries your heels for you when your feet start aching on the way home.

Yet some things have changed: like the fact that his hand is now placed possessively on your waist as he navigates the crowd with you next to him. 

“I still don’t like that guy.” He mutters into your ear as you both say goodbye to Jeonghan and his date. 

You laugh. “He’s just Jeonghan.” 

“He’s kissed you.” He hisses, fixing your necklace so it sits perfectly on your collarbone. “And we both know he was cuddling up to you on set just to piss me off.” 

“Maybe.” You admit. “But that’s just Jeonghan.” 

“Whatever.” Joshua throws one last dirty look at the actor before fixing you with loving eyes. “You’re mine now, anyways. Right?” 

You scrunch your nose. “Wouldn’t you like to know, social media boy?” 

He pinches your hip in retaliation. 

The banter still comes easy. And you’re pleased to find out that loving him comes just as easy too. 

[bullet-prooflove]

Elderberry Wine: John Carter x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @anna-bailey @ofsoapsuds @queenslandlover-93 @gemofspace

Summary: You come home to find John waiting for you.

Companion piece to:

Dreamer (NSFW) - John dreams of you when he's with someone else.

Little John - You try to keep John's mind off the task at hand.

The First One Is Always The Hardest - You comfort John after the death of a patient.

Forget-Me-Nots - John wakes up hung over in a strange bed and with an unexpected memento of the night before.

Speak Your Truth - John speaks his truth in the aftermath of a tragedy.

Trauma - John makes a realisation after his confession.

Fever - John gets more than he bargained for when he attends a friend's stag party in a Chicago Speakeasy.

Minx (NSFW) - John had no idea he had such a deviant little minx on his hands.

Always - You and John discuss the reasons behind your dancing.

Diamonds - John's friend and rival makes you an offer you can't refuse.

The Stethoscope - John's world is turned upside down when he finds your stethoscope in his locker.

John’s waiting for you when you get home. He’s sitting on the floor outside your apartment with his back propped up against the door and a medical textbook in his lap. Beside him is a brown paper bag of groceries, you can see the egg carton and fresh peppers sticking out of the top as he raises to greet you.

“I went to my mom’s.” You say by way of explanation as you stride towards him. “She insisted on reading my tarot cards, thought they might give me a little clarity.”

Your mom has always been a little different, new agey before it was cool. She’s been the proud proprietor of the first feminist bookshop in Chicago since the late 70s and a staunch promoter of women’s rights. There’s a photo in her shop of you barely three months old cradled against her chest in a sling on the front line of a Chicago Women's Liberation march.

“Her first one.” She had said fondly as she’d read John’s cards on a shop counter pasted with Mod Podge and news clippings of her exploits. “But not her last.”

That’s the first taste you’d given him of your world, his first glimpse into the history that made up Crys Majors.

“What did they say?” He asks, his hand squeezing your hip as he tilts his head down to look at you. Your skin is a little flush, your eyes bright. Your hair falls loose around your features in soft waves, the same way it always does when you pull out your hair tie in the aftermath of a shift.

“I have no idea.” You tell him, the edges of your mouth tipping up into a smile that doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “Everything’s a little hazy after that second glass of wine.”

That’s the other thing about your mom. The elderberry wine she makes is so strong that that first time he’d been introduced to it he’d woken up face down in a beanbag in the children’s section surrounded by Jenga pieces. You still have the picture she took with her polaroid camera pinned to your fridge with a St Bart’s fridge magnet.

It makes sense that that’s why you’re smiling right now, despite having the shittiest day on this earth. Quality time spent with your mom and half a bottle of elderberry wine it’ll cure most the world’s ills, at least until morning.  

“Have you eaten?” He asks, his fingertips tucking an errant strand of hair back behind your ear.

You shake your head. “My mom offered but…”

“Yeah, she’s terrible.” He chuckles knowingly.

To be fair that’s not your mom’s fault. The woman is vegan so every meal she makes is bean or tofu based because it’s slim pickings in 90s Chicago. He’d almost spat out the coffee she’d made him when she was trying to sober him up because it was laced with rice milk. You’d found the whole thing terribly amusing.

“How about I whip you up something?” He says, his arms wrapping around you, drawing you close into the shelter of his firm body. “I know how much you like my omelettes. I could run you a bath, cook for you…”

“You don’t have to take care of me.” You say softly, your fingertips trailing along the lapels of his coat. Despite your words, your body language indicates something different. He can sense your need for reassurance, your desire for proximity amidst the storm that is your life. “Right now the elderberry wine is kinda numbing everything and I know it’s going to be a busy day for you tomorrow.”

It would have been a busy day for you too, he thinks as you toy with the buttons of his coat. You would have scrubbed in on the same surgery he’s observing, asked pointed questions, you would have rocked the whole damn thing.

“Are we gonna talk about it?” He asks, his mouth brushing over your temple as he cradles you against him. You sway together gently, it’s something you find soothing, he’s discovered, the light rocking of his form against yours.

“I don’t really have much to say.” You whisper, your cheek settling on his shoulder. “Mark’s clearly told you the whole story and my mom’s making a voodoo doll of the asshole. My guess is he’s gonna be experiencing some sharp pains in his dick during the next two to three hours.”

He laughs into your hair, his palm coming to rest on the nape of your neck as his thumb traces soothing circles over that tender little spot just behind your ear.

“John.” You whisper, your voice cracking as you bury your face into his chest. “You’re still gonna love me if I’m not a doctor right?”

“Oh Crys.” He murmurs, his lips ghosting over your forehead. “I’m gonna love you no matter what happens, you can count on that.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[mephistostwin]

Away from Him

SYLUS X NON-MC! READER PT. 2

Part 1

REMINDERS:

I do not own the characters, this is simply a story that I made up inside my head.

Sylus is a very green forest guy, his attitude here is very different to his real personality.

I'm not a professional in medical topics and the medical terms that I used are just based on my research.

The plot and story line does not follow the events in the game.

MC, Sylus, and other characters' personality and behavior here are not the same as what's in the game.

I'm a first-time writer so please be understanding with the wrong grammars and misspelled words.

Expect that I probably did not use tumblr correctly because this is the first time that I will post an au here.

If this is not your type of story, please scroll up and ignore this post.

Some scenes that are like the scenes from other works are pure coincidence. I never intended to copy anyone's hard work and this is based on my imaginations alone.

Please differentiate real life and the real lore of the game from this fanfic.

Open for constructive criticism but be mindful of your words.

Rafayel woke up. He had the feeling that he should visit you and invite you for breakfast in the café. He got ready and got outside his apartment to knock on yours. After what feels like forever, you still haven't open the door. He's starting to get anxious so he decided to call your number. To his disappointment, you are also not answering your phone.

He is an over-thinker and it doesn't help with the situation so he decided to go at the front desk and ask if you went outside. “Hello, good morning. Have you seen a girl go out earlier? the one that lives in 502”. The receptionist shaked her head, “So far, no one has come out yet. People usually go at 8 am and it's only 6:39 am”.

The answer does not satisfy Rafayel’s overthinking— He some what hoped that you just went somewhere to buy something or do anything. “Can I view the CCTV footage— if you don't mind?” The receptionist hesitated at first but as she look on Rafayel’s face, she knows that he's eager to find that girl— to find you.

“Are you a stalker or what? Stalking women can be punishable by law, you know?...” The woman looks at him, wanting answers before letting him see the CCTV footage.

“No! I'm her friend, here's the proof,” Rafayel showed his phone to her. There's a video that he took last night— he films the surrounding buildings as you both walk to the building of the apartment. The camera happened to capture your smiling face as you look back to Rafayel.

“Look at the date, I captured this last night.” Rafayel pleaded. The woman looks at him in a suspicious way.

“Ok... Because you live here and you showed me that video, I'll let you view the footage from earlier. But once something happened to her and there's a police officer looking for you, I won't hesitate to give your information to them... Got it?” The woman crossed her arms.

“I promise that I'm not a stalker! She just won't open the door after all the knocks I did... She's not even answering her phone either.” Rafayel tugged his shirt as panic rush to his chest.

The woman sighed in defeat and turned the rotating monitor to him. “Here’s the footage... I already replayed back to 4 am. Just click the fast forward or replay button and check it for yourself.”

Rafayel said thanks to the receptionist and he did exactly what she told him to do. After minutes of checking, he never saw you on the footage. “Something’s wrong...”.

He said goodbye to the receptionist and run to the elevator. He clicked the button of the fifth floor in a hurry. When the door opened, he did not waste time and sprinted towards the door of your apartment.

He knocked again as loud as he could but you are still not opening the door. He called for your name but he did not get a reply from you.

“This will be so embarrassing if you were just in a deep sleep but it's better for the situation to be like that than anything else bad happening.” He murmured to himself as he continue to knock.

He gave up on knocking on your door and grips his hair out of frustration. He wants to believe that you're fine and you're just a heavy sleeper but something— that he does not know— is telling him that something is not right. “I’m a very caring person but I don't act like this before... fuck.”

“I feel like I'm trespassing and invading your privacy— argh! I don't care, I'm worried!” He sighed in frustration. He did a lot of loud knocks and calls— it would be impossible for you to not wake up because of that if everything's alright.

He broke the handle of the door and barged in, eager to find you. “Y/N? where are you?” He called your name multiple times and the silence that welcomes him adds to the panic that he's receiving in his chest.

He went to the kitchen and the living room but you were not there. He continued searching for you in every room that your apartment has. One room in the end of the hallway is the last one that he has not went to yet— your bedroom.

He quickly opened the door to your bedroom— and there he saw you curled up into a ball. Your hands gripping the shirt that covers your chest that looks like you want to remove your heart. Your eyes and face are both red and puffy, you look like you cried for months.

His breath hitched as he run towards your weak body. He tried to stay calm to properly assess you but tears rushed down his cheeks.

He's a caring friend but he does not know why he's reacting like he's the other half of your feelings and situation. It's like he can feel your pain and he does not know why.

He teared up as soon as he saw your current state.

“Hey... I'm calling for you earlier... what happened?” He said as he sobs. He’s now caressing your forehead and neck, checking for any sign of fever. You are not replying— you're like dead but you still have a pulse.

He picked you up bridal style and rushed down to the parking lot to get you in his car. The receptionist saw both of you and she felt guilty for thinking that Rafayel is just a creep that was stalking you.

He went to the driver's seat after putting you in the back, making sure that you're comfortable and safe during the drive because he can't promise that he will not sprint to the hospital. He picked up his phone and dialed a number before starting to drive.

“Hey, Zayne! I'm on my way to the hospital right now, I'm bringing a friend of mine. I don't know what happened to her but I know that she's not in a great condition. Please ready a bed for her if you can— I'm panicking and I can't understand why...” Rafayel was still sobbing on the phone and he can't put his mind in ease.

“Don’t panic, it will only worsen the situation... and you're also driving. Focus on the road and drive safely. I already told the interns to prepare a bed for your friend.” Zayne encouraged Rafayel to stay calm. Rafayel— after the call— did his best to focus on the road to drive safely even when his heart feels like it's gripping itself because of intense nervousness and panicking.

You're at the backseat, still hardly breathing but only slightly conscious. Your body feels numb but your chest feels like it's being stabbed from front to the back and vice versa. Your eyes still want to cry but you already emptied out your tears.

“Raf... it hurts...” You mumbled and Rafayel heard it. It was making him hard to breathe. He does not know what hurts you but he wants to take the pain away.

“We’re near to the hospital... you'll be ok... hmm..” He tried to reassure you with a smile that you will be fine but even himself— he can barely stay calm.

Your heart hurts so bad that it pulls you into a deep sleep again.

Finally, both of you arrived to the hospital and Rafayel parked his car. He picked you up in a bridal style again and rushed towards the entrance. Three interns were already waiting for the both of you with a gurney. They quickly put you in the gurney and went to one of the hospital rooms.

Zayne was already at the room, he just finished taking care of one of the patients that he have. He immediately checked your condition while Rafayel just sits at a chair in the corner of the room. Zayne puts an oxygen mask to your nose and mouth area before turning back towards Rafayel.

“It looks like she heavily cried... Due to her heavy breakdown session, there was a lack of supply of oxygen in her body. The amount of oxygen that is in her bloodstream also reduced. This is not yet life-threatening but the emotional stress that she currently experience can trigger other conditions like broken heart syndrome.” Zayne spoke as Rafayel’s mind went blank. He's still processing everything that Zayne said. He don't know what to reply to Zayne.

“It’s better if you will bring her to a psychologist or a psychiatrist after her body and breathing goes back to normal.” Zayne said. Rafayel nodded as a response because his mouth do not know what to say.

“I’ll go to my next patient now. Just call me if you need help. I'll check up on her later.” Zayne said goodbye as he exited the room, leaving Rafayel and your unconscious body.

“What happened to you? you were just smiling last night...” He murmured as he approached a chair besides your hospital bed.

Rafayel spent hours in the hospital, waiting for you to wake up and tell him what happened to you. He did not eat for hours since morning, he lost his appetite when he saw you in that painful state. But his stomach is begging him to eat, it's making him weak.

He decided to go a nearby restaurant to take out some food for him— and also for you when you finally wake up.

He ordered his favorite dish but he does not know your favorite food so he just ordered a healthy meal that he thinks will help you to recover.

He went back to the hospital, his body can barely handle the heavy steps that he takes. He did not eat in the restaurant, he wants to eat with you— just like what you guys did last night.

“Why do I feel miserable already? I just met her last night...” Confusion is messing with his mind.

He reached your hospital room. His eyes slowly lighten up when he saw you in the bed— barely moving but clearly awake. He quickly went to the drawer at the side of your bed and placed the food that he bought.

“Hey, how do you feel? Are you alright? Wait, let me call Zayne...” He flooded you with questions before he dialed Zayne’s number on his phone.

- Meanwhile, on Onychinus base -

Sylus spent his yesterday with MC, clearly not aware that you also left N109 zone yesterday. He went to your desk to hand over the paper works— of course, he wants you to be tired.

To his surprise, you're not on your desk. Your working area is completely clear of signs of work and papers. He felt irritation build up inside his chest. He immediately called for the twins for your whereabouts because they are the ones that you are close with. Maybe you told them where you will go.

The twins barged inside Sylus' office after he called for them. Sylus is on his desk, looking furiously at his laptop. For their relief, MC is not around. They stood in front of Sylus’ desk, waiting for an order.

“Do you both know where she is?” Sylus looked at them with a hint of frustration in his eyes. The twin gulped from anxiousness. How are they now supposed to tell him about your resignation when he's clearly mad? they also thought that he is aware about this— just like when you said that it was his request.

“Boss we don't know what you're talking about...” Kieran lied. Of course they are aware that Sylus is talking about you. But the problem is, how will they tell him without facing Sylus’ anger?

“Answer me with the truth, don't lie... Where did she go?” The twin gulped again. Luke cannot hold back anymore, he told Sylus about your last encounter with them.

“We saw her the day before yesterday... She brought all her things with her and said that she'll resign because of your.... request.” It felt like a dagger is dragged in Luke’s throat as he spoke.

“That explains the resignation letter that she sent in my email.” He said while caressing his temple.

“Go and find her, she still have a lot of work to do”.

- Back to the hospital -

Zayne already checked up on you earlier. As of now, your condition is improving but you are still not fully recovered— especially, your heart.

You are now eating with Rafayel. His eyes looks a little puffy. He told you everything that happened and it touches your heart that he did all of that for you even when you guys just met last night.

“Do you mind telling me what happened? I know that something's wrong... it's not normal for someone to have a breakdown that affects their health like that...” He spoke as you guys both finished your meal. He stood to take the empty container of your meal and throw it away in the trash bin before walking to you again.

“I want to... but I don't know if I can tell you everything, it still hurts.” You hugged yourself.

“I know that it's hard and I'm not forcing you to tell everything right now because of your situation... Just tell me when you need help or you need someone to talk to, ok? You're also my friend now, and I care about my friends.” He pats your head with a warm smile on his lips.

You sighed. “I guess I'll just rant to you right now... I want to let out everything to lessen the burden that I feel.”

Rafayel did not speak, he only listen and that's what you need right now.

“I have this friend for 10 years... I worked as his secretary but I resigned just a night before I went to Linkon City. I slowly loved him because he's the only one that defends me from people that hurts me. I thought we will be more than friends because he gave me signals that he also feels the same— I guess that was a mixed signal.” You painfully chuckled. You continue to speak as Rafayel sat beside you, carefully listening.

“And just months before, he met a girl. Actually, he already met her before me... They're tied by fate in every lifetime... Five months ago, they became official. I tried to make my feelings go away because they were really nice. But that girl was two-faced, even...” You hesitated to say the name of the man that caused you this pain— but you still did.

“Even Sylus’ two assistants don't want to be near her. I really want to tell him that... MC was evil. She changed her behavior once they went official.” You don't want to remember everything that happened but you want to let out the pain.

“Sylus also changed... He promised to never hurt me— but he did. Just for MC, he threw our 10 years friendship. I actually wouldn't mind it that much if he meant it to respect MC, but he also made me suffer. He made me work late to finish the papers that was never meant for my job...”

You know to yourself that you are now hating him— you are slowly hating Sylus.

“Long-story-short, I left the company, I resigned, and flew here. It was also his wish...” You added while a potential sob is building in your throat.

Rafayel’s eyes showed a hint of empathy and anger. He should not be feelings this way but he actually cares for you...

He will do his best to never let you be near that Sylus guy again.

-Timeskip, 7:38 pm-

- Back to Onychinus base -

The twins went back to Sylus' office. MC is still not around. Sylus never left his desk, finishing the works that you are supposed to do— and it frustrates him... but it also make him feel unease.

“Boss...” Kieran softly called, careful to not trigger the irritation that is hidden in Sylus’ mind.

Sylus was always calm, his actions and words are always calculated. He is a very disciplined man— but today is different.

“She’s not in her house... We also searched the whole N109 zone but we can't find a trace of her...” Kieran hesitated to continue as Sylus slowly looked up to them with furious eyes.

Luke and Kieran gulped. They want to sprint outside Sylus’ office. Sylus’ presence and aura never felt scary and suffocating before— even when he is furious. He is very different right now.

Sylus stayed silent, he knows that there is still something that the twins want to tell him. Luke started to speak.

“However, there's a record in the airport... She flew to Linkon city. But we haven't found where she stays for now because we just got the information this evening...” Luke spoke very fast, it's like he is rapping.

Sylus wiped his face with his palm out of frustration. He fucked up but he does not realize it yet...

“Find her and bring her back here... She can't leave this place just like that. She belongs here.”

(Note: I suddenly got a flu and migraine huhu I'll make the part 3 longer, promiseee)

[minxmut-cafe]

𝐻𝑂𝑀𝐸 𝑆𝑊𝐸𝐸𝑇 𝐻𝑂𝑀𝐸

Pairing : Namjoon x Reader

Word count : 777

Warning : No warning, comfort, soo much comfort, joonie is finally home

Authors Note : WE ARE BACK BITCHES OMG OMGOMGOMGOMG I CANNOT BELIEVE AFTER 18 MONTHS WE FINALLY GOT TO SEE THEM AGAINUSDHHDBDDHD THEY ALL LOOK SO PRECIOUS AND MY SHAYLA NAMJOON, I LOVE HIM SM. I wish I could heal him the way he's healed hundreds of others, and may he never go through what he went through in the military.

Synopsis : "Namjoon's finally discharged and all he wants is to go home to his girl"

The cameras are loud.

They always are, but today they feel like a storm—flashing, clicking, cheering. Namjoon smiles gently, the way he’s trained to, bowing along with Taehyung. The brass glint of the saxophone in his hand catches the sunlight, and someone’s yelling his name behind the barrier. But it’s all a haze.

He can’t hear a thing. Not really. Because all his brain is screaming is one thing, over and over:

Home. Her. Home. Her.

His uniform itches. The air smells too clean. He’s standing on the outside now, after months of dirt and orders and quiet sobs into his pillow when the dorm lights were out. After so many days when the only thing that kept him breathing was your voice—sleepy, loving, soft on the phone, like silk threads tying him back to something real.

The ride back is a blur. He clutches the saxophone the whole way.

You know he said to wait.

So you do.

You’re practically vibrating with excitement, barefoot in his favorite oversized shirt—the one, the ridiculously baggy one with the little bleach stain near the hem that you never dared wash because it still smelled like him. You cooked all his comfort food, every last bit of it, filling the apartment with the scent of home. His drink’s on the counter, ice already sweating down the glass. Your heart is racing.

Every few seconds, you check the clock. You pace. You nearly combust.

And then—

The key turns.

“Joonie—”

You don’t even let him get the door fully shut. You launch yourself at him.

The saxophone clatters somewhere on the floor, forgotten. His mouth opens in surprise and then—

“Baby?”

You’re already clinging to him, arms around his neck, legs half-wrapped around his waist, kissing any part of his face you can reach. His hair, his jaw, his cheeks, his lips—tears spilling down your face as your laughter breaks free.

“You’re really here,” you whisper, cupping his face like he’s made of something holy. “You’re really here, baby—oh my god—”

He breathes in.

You. The scent of your skin, your hair, the warmth of your body against him—soft, real, shaking with emotion.

“I'm home,” he chokes out, voice already trembling. “God, I missed you. I missed you so much.”

You laugh and cry at the same time, running your hands over his back, shoulders, hair—like if you stop, he might disappear again.

Somehow, you make it to the couch, but only barely.

He tackles you gently into the cushions, his entire body weight sinking into yours like he’s trying to bury himself inside your skin. His laugh is breathless, breaking into little sobs as he kisses you through them, your lips salty from both your tears.

“Never again,” you whisper, cupping the back of his head. “You’re home now. You’re safe. You’re mine.”

He kisses you like it’s a promise. Like he’s trying to inhale you. Like you’re the only thing anchoring him to this earth.

“I thought about this,” he murmurs against your throat, “every night. Just this. You. Laughing. Holding me. This stupid couch. I’d have given anything just to touch you—”

“You don’t have to give anything anymore,” you say, wrapping your arms tighter around him. “You already came back. That’s everything.”

And in that living room filled with the scent of home-cooked food, salt tears, and months of aching need finally met, Namjoon lets himself collapse.

Into you. Into safety. Into love.

Because after everything…

He’s finally home.

[girly-girlk]

first premier

drew starkey x reader

summary: drew takes you to your first premier with him

you’d been to fancy events before—but never quite like this.

the black suv pulled up in front of the theater, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw the red carpet laid out like something from a dream. paparazzi were already shouting names, flashes going off like fireworks. you looked at drew, your hand instinctively tightening around his.

“you sure i belong here?” you asked, giving him a nervous laugh, trying to play it off. but drew saw straight through it.

he turned to you, resting a hand on your cheek, his blue eyes soft. “babe, you belong here more than anyone. this—” he motioned to the chaos outside the car, “—none of it means anything if i don’t get to share it with you.”

you smiled, nerves easing just a bit. “you’re such a sap.”

“and yet… you’re still with me.” he winked.

the driver opened the door, and drew stepped out first, immediately greeted by cheers and camera flashes. he turned back, offering his hand to you like you were royalty. the moment your fingers touched his, something clicked. you weren’t walking into this alone.

once you stepped onto the carpet, he didn’t let go of your hand—not once. he introduced you to everyone, from co-stars to producers, making sure you never felt out of place. every time you started to feel overwhelmed, his hand would squeeze yours just enough to ground you.

at one point, a reporter asked about you. drew smiled proudly, pulling you slightly closer.

“this is my girlfriend,” he said. “it’s her first premiere with me—and hopefully not the last.”

you laughed softly, cheeks burning as he looked at you like you were the star of the night, not him.

after the film, when the lights came up and the crowd burst into applause, drew leaned in and kissed your temple.

“thanks for coming with me.”

you looked at him, eyes shining. “thanks for making me feel like i belong.”

he grinned. “you do belong. right next to me—always.”