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shotosjupiter · 7 days ago

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BE YOUR IDOL — R. SUKUNA

pairing — ryomen sukuna x fem!reader (art by @/nikaness__)

summary — by day you're a world renowned singer, loved by all. by night you're a demon hunter, slashing and killing demons to protect every city you tour. your boydguard, sukuna, stays by your side through every performance. so, imagine your surprise when you come home bloodied from another mission only to find out that your bodyguard is a demon himself.

𖤐 word count — 4.5k

𖤐 genre/tags— angst, hurt/comfort, eventual fluff, happy ending! bodyguard sukuna, popstar/idol! reader. kpop demon hunter! au (ish) i tried LMAO, he patches up her bloodied wounds, mentions of blood, super yearner love confessions, reader is a mf bad ass.

𖤐 author's note — kpop demon hunters has been rotting in my brain so you guys get this <3

꒰masterlist꒱

THE CROWD screams your name so loud the lights tremble.

You keep your smile pinned on tight. Head high. Mic close. The choreography flows like second nature. You've done this a thousand times, your body is on autopilot, heart a thousand miles away.

But tonight, something feels wrong. Not the kind of wrong the audience can hear in your voice, or your managers can see in the timing of your spin. Not even something your fans on Twitter could screenshot and analyze at 2 AM. It’s something colder, quieter.

From the left wing of the stage, hidden behind scaffolding and shadows, Sukuna watches you.

His arms are crossed. Sunglasses on. One boot against the wall like he’s bored out of his mind, but his gaze never leaves you.

He’s too still. Too focused. His expression is unreadable, like always, but something in you flinches when your eyes meet his. You hold the final note for half a beat too long as you keep your eyes on his. You only stumble once during the song, but it’s enough to make your stomach twist. Because the truth is, you never mess up. Not here. Not on stage.

You don't miss steps unless something's chasing you.

You’ve known Sukuna for four years.

He came to you after a stalker incident left your last bodyguard hospitalized and your agency in panic mode. One phone call later, Sukuna Ryomen showed up outside your practice room, sunglasses, tattoos, and attitude in full effect.

He didn’t ask for your autograph. Didn’t pretend to be starstruck. He took one look at your bruised knees, your bandaged wrist, and said, “You either need less ambition or better security.”

You’d hated him immediately. But he never left. Not once. Not when obsessed fans were keen to follow you every place you appeared, or when you passed out from exhaustion in a van on the way back to your home. He stood outside every hotel door like a wolf in black, teeth bared for anyone who looked twice.

It took time, and more than a few shared convenience store meals at 2 AM, but eventually, you let him in. And now? You trust him more than anyone which is exactly why you're terrified.

Because Sukuna isn’t normal. He never was.

You’ve seen him shrug off a stab wound. Heal from burns that would’ve hospitalized a man twice his size. You’ve seen the glow in his eyes when he’s pissed off - a flaring red, faint, like embers that never quite die.

And more than that, you’ve seen the way demons react when he’s in the vicinity. They hesitate; flinch, run. Like they know what he is and fear it. The first time you really felt it was backstage after a fan meet.

You were changing into your outfit for the next set when you heard a noise. Not loud - just a breath, close to your ear. You spun around with a blade hidden in your sleeve and-

Nothing.

But the lights flickered.

And when you stepped outside, Sukuna was already there, leaning against the doorframe like he’d never moved, the picture of cool and collected.

“Everything okay?” he asked, voice low.

You nodded. “Did you feel that?”

He blinked slowly. “Feel what?”

You paused. The temperature had dropped three degrees in less than a minute. You knew what that meant. But Sukuna just looked… calm. Too calm.

“Never mind,” you muttered. “Just nerves.”

He didn’t press. He never did.

That night, you found a charm nailed under your dressing room table, one that wasn’t yours. Old, frayed. Marked with a symbol only demons would recognize. You burned it.

There were other moments. Small ones, like threads tugging loose from a sweater, easy to ignore until they start to unravel the whole thing. Once, in a hotel, you passed out after a show. Later, you woke up at 4 AM from a nightmare so vivid it had left you panting for breath and drenched in sweat.

Somehow, you ended up knocking on his door that night, not a word said but he could see the exhaustion lined around your muscles and the tears in your eyes on the brink of falling. He didn’t say a word but opened the door further to let you in. He sat with you, let you rest your head on his shoulder while the dream clawed its way out of your lungs. He never asked what it was about. And you never told him that it hadn’t been a dream at all, it was a memory. A night when a hunt had gone wrong, when the demon had clawed at you so deeply you were certain it was your last night to live.

He was just there - silent but there. Always close, always watching, but never reaching too far. Part of you wondered if it was his way of respecting boundaries, of never pushing it too far with someone who’s already so desperately sought after by the public.

But another part, the part that watched the way his hands curled into fists when mysterious disappearances and murders were mentioned on TV, started to wonder if he was hiding something, too.

Some nights, you'd catch him looking at you when he thought you were asleep. On the tour bus. In dressing rooms. In empty stadiums before the fans arrived. There was no hunger in his gaze, no threat. Just something old. Something mournful. Like he knew what it meant to be made of secrets, too. Like he saw something in you he recognized in himself.

Conversely, you’ve never told anyone what you are. Not your label. Not your stylists. Not your fellow coworkers in the company or the creative director who calls you a “once-in-a-generation star” like it’s supposed to explain why you don’t flinch when he yells. Not the fans who scream your name from barricades and rooftops, whose love fills stadiums but could never reach the place in you that still remembers the smell of blood in the dirt.

And definitely not Sukuna.

You’re a demon hunter - born into it, raised in it, marked before you had a choice. There’s a scar between your shoulder blades that never healed right from the botched demon hunt - it itches when you feel the cold cursed energy of demons seeping into the air, or when you settle in your lies for too long.

You thought you could leave demon hunting behind when you became a trainee. That if you made yourself small enough, good enough, useful enough, you could be reborn. Someone with stage lights in their eyes. Someone who got her scars from dancing too hard, not surviving too much, too often. Someone who sang because she loved it, not because it made the demon’s presence quieter. But the curse mark never stopped burning and the demons never stopped coming, so you made it work.

It was supposed to get easier once you debuted, or that’s what you had convinced yourself. That the money, the fame, the makeup artists and brand deals would carve out a softer space for you. Somewhere safe. But the creatures followed you into the spotlight.

They wait at the edge of stages. Crawl under bleachers. Hide in hotels and subway tunnels, drawn to your scent in particular, cursed blood dressed in sequins. They know what you are, even when the humans don’t. Especially when the humans don’t.

You’ve had to kill them in silence. In back alleys with borrowed knives. In green rooms with talismans pressed into your palms like rosaries. You carry it all with you, the secrets, the bruises, the ache. No one notices and no one's allowed to. Your manager chalks it up to stress. Your stylists cover the cuts. Your fans think your sleeplessness is aesthetic, that the shadows are sexy, your fatigue dreamy, the pain poetic.

And Sukuna, well he notices everything, but he never says a word. Sometimes you think he’s the only person in the world who looks at you and actually sees you. Which is exactly why it’s almost cruel, having him so close, and still not being able to tell him the truth.

You come home after a hunt, blood crusted to your ankle, and he doesn’t say anything. Just tosses you a towel. Asks, “Rough night?” like he’s asking about choreography, not combat. You lie. You always lie. And he lets you. Because that’s the game you’re both playing. Pretend. Protect. Repeat. Even if it’s killing you.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

The night it happens, it’s raining.

You’d slipped out after a rehearsal, trailing a big demon across rooftops in the heart of the city. It’s feeding - not yet, but close. A girl’s gone missing from this area already this week. It had taken you longer than you expected to corner it and by the time you did, it had sunk its claws into you. You manage to kill it but not before it gets to your leg; the gash runs from your inner thigh down to your knee and your jeans are soaked in crimson. You barely manage to limp your way to the apartment before the adrenaline wears off.

You stumble through the door blearily, the time somewhere close to two A.M. Opening the kitchen light, you find Sukuna waiting for you by the table, sunk deep into his seat. He’s in a hoodie and sweatpants, arms folded, jaw clenched. His phone is in his hand, but his eyes are locked on you the second the door clicks shut, assessing if there is any injury on your body. Of course, there is, there’s no hiding the long cut running down your leg and his whole face changes when his gaze drops to your leg.

��What the fuck,” he says, voice cold and flat. “What the fuck is that.”

You try to walk past him, limping but still trying to feign nonchalance, “It’s nothing-”

“Don’t lie to me.”

He grabs your arm, not hard, but firm enough that you freeze. You try to step back, staggering, and he catches you before you hit the ground. Your blood smears across his sweatshirt and his permanently relaxed expression cracks.

“You’re bleeding,” he says, too quiet.

“Let go, Sukuna-”

“No.” His voice rises. “No, you don’t get to come home looking like you’ve been mauled and brush it off. What happened?”

You look away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You don’t have a choice.” His voice is shaking now, not with anger, but with fear. And that’s what does it. That’s what makes you crack.

You whisper it, “A demon.”

Sukuna goes still. Then, a scoff, “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.”

He stares at you for a long, long moment. You can hear the rain outside hitting the windows. The city feels too quiet. Like it’s listening. Finally, Sukuna says, “You’re a hunter.”

You feel your blood still. There is only one way he knows what a hunter is, how easily he accepted your truth and reached that conclusion. You grasp his hand, “Yes.”

His hand falls away from your arm like it burns him, even if he accepted this truth, it still burns him. “For how long?”

“My whole life.”

He laughs but it’s empty, a hollow laugh, tinged with betrayal fully. “And you never thought to tell me?”

“I couldn’t-”

“I’ve been by your side for four goddamn years-”

“I couldn’t, Sukuna!”

The air vibrates with the force of your voice.

“If anyone found out, I’d be decommissioned. Blacklisted. They’d throw me into a pit and never let me out. I had to choose between this life and that one, and I thought- I thought I could keep both.”

He doesn’t answer, just stares at you. His expression is an odd one - something mixed with hurt, confusion, betrayal, but still somehow affection. You’re still panting, still bleeding, still trembling but you look up at him, clutching his hand tightly.

“You were supposed to be the one person I didn’t have to lie to,” you whisper. “But I had to Sukuna.”

Then, quieter: “But you lied too, didn’t you?”

His jaw tightens and you see the full picture now. All of it. The way his eyes never quite reflect light right, the faint heat that comes off him when he’s mad, the way no demon ever came nearby when he was near.

“I know what you are,” you say tentatively, still slightly unsure. He looks at you, really looks, and nods once, resigned. There were no secrets between the two of you now, everything was laid out bare. But still you wanted him to say the truth fully, to have it come out of his mouth. So you stare at him, prodding him to continue.

“I’m not human.”

Your mouth goes dry. “Demon?”

He tsks before looking away from you, “Half.”

Silence. “You gonna kill me now?” he asks, half a smirk curling at his mouth, resigned to his fate. He would let you, you realize. He would let you settle a blade within him, he was resigned to the destiny that fate had assigned the two of you.

“No,” you say softly, refusing to look away from him. You want him to feel the utter sincerity in your words, in the way you’re willing to give yourself to him, to let go of this one thing in your life for him.

“Why not?”

“Because you were the only thing in my life that felt safe.”

And then he really goes still.

“I should’ve told you,” he says, after a moment. “I just - being human around you, it felt good, it felt like the real thing. Like maybe I could be better.”

“You are.”

He huffs. “You don’t know what I’ve done.”

You don’t respond to this, temporarily stunned. It’s true - you don’t know what he’s done. How he’s gotten here, but you do know the person he is now. You know how kind he is to the other staff alongside you while they prepare you for performances, how he brings you some comfort sweets and drinks after a long dance practice, how he treats your fans in a manner you would approve of. You know this version of him and you know the kindness and sincerity it is capable of.

He carries you to the couch. It’s not a question. You protest, but it’s weak, you’re shaking too hard and the blood loss is catching up. He disappears into the bathroom and comes back with a first aid kit, and kneels down to assess your injury.

It’s not like you to let someone do this for you. You’ve been patching yourself up in silence since you were fifteen, bathroom lights flickering, blood on tile, half-cracked ribs and no one to notice but the mirror. You learned to set bones through practice and the aggravating (and rather slow) YouTube videos. You learned to flinch inward and laugh it off, to survive without letting anyone see you the slightest bit harmed.

But this time, you let him. He moves slowly, his hands aren’t exactly gentle, but they’re sure. Big and warm, fingertips calloused from years of god-knows-what. He’s not saying anything, but his brows are furrowed with concentration, his mouth set tight. The gauze unwinds in his hands like ribbon. You sit still on your leather couch, your pants rolled up to your thighs with bits of the fabric still clinging near the inflamed wound. He kneels in front of you, carefully blotting the gash at your ribs and the silence stretches - tense, but not cruel.

“I’ve seen you bleed before,” he mutters.

Your throat’s tight. “Not like this.”

He doesn’t respond right away, just presses the antiseptic a little too hard, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you look at him and when you do, his jaw is clenched.

“You came home half-conscious.”

You inhale. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

“That’s not your job anymore,” he snaps, agitated but still trying to be gentle with the injury as he finishes cleaning it.

It’s quiet again, you don’t know how to explain it, the instinct to hide, to protect him even as you bled yourself dry. You’ve always looked at him as someone to lose. And now that he knows what you are, you feel the gap yawning wider than ever.

“Sukuna-”

“Stop talking,” he says, voice rough. You flinch. But when you look down, his hand is shaking slightly. Just barely. And his voice, when he speaks again, is quieter.

“I’m not mad that you’re a hunter.” A beat. “I’m mad because I wasn’t there.” His eyes finally meet yours, angry, but burning with something else beneath it. “You almost died. And I was sat here, thinking it was some late practice of yours, not even realizing you were out fighting for your life.”

“You couldn’t have known,” you whisper.

“That’s the point,” he growls. “You didn’t trust me to know.”

And that, that silences you. He starts wrapping the gauze around your leg, tenderly and ever more slowly this time. Careful, like every turn is a question he’s too afraid to ask out loud. You watch his hands, watch the way he threads the ends together, tapes the bandage down like it’s something so very delicate. Like you’re something sacred. And for the first time, you let yourself be.

“You know,” you say, almost lightly, “you’re surprisingly good at this.”

He snorts. “You think I never had to patch myself up before?”

“No,” you admit. “I just didn’t think you’d be the type to even remember where the medical kit was.”

He shoots you a look. “I memorize everything about you, I’d be damned if I didn’t know where you put your stupid med kit,” To seal his point he flourishes the stickers covered box in front of you.

You blink at his confession and debate internally, taking the chance to push the conversation. You breathe in slowly. “Even when I lie to you?”

He nods, quiet. “Even then.”

You don’t realize your hand is still shaking, whether from the wound or the way all your confessions are slowly unraveling, until he reaches for it. His big roughened palm envelops yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, calloused and warm.

“I memorized the way you flinch when someone says your name too loud,” he says quietly. “The way you pretend you’re not exhausted after a rough practice. The way your smile is so bright when you’re on that stage performing. I memorized every damn thing, you’ve created a home in my heart and soul.”

Your heart stutters. “I noticed it all, sweetheart,” he says. You want to look away but he clutches your hand tighter, willing you to keep your eyes on him. Taking a deep breath you push yourself to take a chance too, “I’ve spent years trying not to love you,” you whisper.

He freezes and you notice but you plow on, refusing to take it back. You’ve dug your hole now, you might as well get it all out. “I thought if you knew what I was, I’d risk your life too, maybe you’d look down on me and I just - I wanted to keep you safe.”

Sukuna leans in but he doesn’t kiss you. Not yet. He just rests his forehead against yours, eyes shut, like this is all he’s ever wanted, the warmth of you, the weight of the truth, the quiet between breaths.

“You aren’t the only one responsible to keep me safe,” he says. “I want to be by your side, to protect you, to be next to you, to keep you safe. You’re the reason I started thinking maybe I didn’t have to be a monster, that maybe there was more to it, to life.”

You close your eyes and let him wrap his arms around you. Cradling you softly in his lap, mindful of your injury. His tattooed arms snake around your waist gently as he brings you in closer to him, resting his chin gently on your shoulder and pressing a soft kiss to your nape.

You settle in his arms, nearly melting with exhaustion because this is what it means to be strong, too. Letting someone in, letting someone stay. Letting him stitch your wounds because they’ve become promises he’s determined to keep.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

You wake up with your cheek pressed against his shoulder. It’s not intentional - or maybe it is, somewhere in your sleep-heavy heart. The ache in your leg has dulled, your shirt changed, your hair pulled back with the kind of gentle care you haven’t let anyone offer in years.

Sukuna was laid beside you, one of his legs tangled with your uninjured one, and his arm still strewn across your waist. You shift a little, just enough to look up at him. His head is slowly falling, as he keeps nodding off but trying to keep himself upright and his arms are crossed in a form of protectiveness. When he feels you shift, one eye opens and watches you. Of course he never really slept.

“You drool,” he says, voice low and a little smug.

You try to glare, but it comes out soft. “And you’re heavy.”

His mouth twitches, just barely, refusing to let you win by giving you a full smile. There’s something different in the air now. Like something sharp has passed. Like the quiet between you isn’t a warning anymore, more so a question, an invitation.

You sit up slowly, careful of your leg and Sukuna shifts too, like he’s resisting the urge to help you and choosing instead to let you be. The gesture doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Thank you for staying” you say, after a long moment, fiddling with the string of his hoodie, trying to avoid direct eye contact with him. He doesn’t look at you at first, just exhales through his nose.

“You don’t have to thank me for doing the one thing I’ve always wanted to do.” He shrugs a little, like it’s nothing. Like he hasn’t just cracked open something impossible.

“I’ve followed you around the world, sweetheart. Every concert. Every city. Every exit door. I’ve taken punches and dodged blades and slept on cold floors. Not because it was my job. Well, not really because it was my job.”

You’re not breathing, refusing to move an inch lest he stop talking.

“I stayed,” he says quietly, “because you were the first thing that ever made me feel like I wasn’t made for violence.”

You stare at him and your hands ache in your lap, desperate to hold his face, to kiss him softly. “I hated you,” you whisper. “When I realized what you were, when I first started suspecting. I hated how much I wanted to be wrong. How much it hurt to think I’d have to lose you.”

His eyes finally meet yours. “You never would’ve lost me.”

“You’re a demon, Sukuna.”

He nods, almost looking bored. As if this fact just did not matter at all.

“And I’m a hunter.”

“I’m aware.” He flicks a hand, like he’s telling you to get on to your point.

“I should’ve walked away when I found out, when you told me,” you say. “But I couldn’t, you’re the one I trust to walk me back from the edge every night. Every time I came back bloodied, I wanted you to be the one who was waiting for me to come home.”

That brings his eyes back to you, sharp, wounded, reverent. He hadn’t expected the admission, some part of him didn’t dare hope you'd see him clearly and still stay. Slowly his eyes flicker to your lips before he leans in, waiting. He didn’t want to push it, despite your confessions. Despite the fact that you had admitted the depth of your feelings for him, he was still waiting for you to push him away.

So this time, you take matters into your own hands and bring him closer to you until your lips press against each other. His kiss isn’t soft but it feels so sure. It tastes like everything unsaid, the years of silence, aching glances, bruises, and stitched-up promises. It tastes like the truth finally given shape, finally given a home.

You kiss him like it’s the only thing keeping you afloat, the only thing you’ve ever been sure of. He, in turn, is also kissing you like he’s never had the taste of you before and now he’s addicted to the feel of your lips on his. He kisses fervently and like he can’t have enough, with one hand on your hips and the placed on your collarbone, delicately holding you.

He breaks the kiss first, resting his forehead against yours with his breath uneven. “This isn’t going to be easy,” he mutters.

“No,” you agree, “but it’s real.”

And that was more than enough for the both of you. You get every rough edge, every soft glance he swears he doesn’t mean, every way he curls himself around your body when he thinks you’re asleep. You get the fire in his voice when he says your name. You get the stillness in his chest when he watches you sing, not because of the stage lights or the sold-out arena, but because he thinks you are the only thing worth witnessing.

You get love that isn’t soft, but love that stays.

And maybe, after everything, that’s the only kind that ever mattered.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

The next concert, everything feels louder. The lights flash bright, the stage rumbles under your boots, and the bass pulses through your chest like a second heartbeat. You move through the choreography like muscle memory but your mind drifts.

Your body still aches in the quiet places no one can see. The bruises have faded, but your hands ache when you lace your mic into place. There’s a tremor beneath the confidence you wear with glitter and gloss.

But when you glance backstage mid-song, Sukuna is there. Same sunglasses, same stance, same quiet power. Same and yet there’s a slight shift to him now. Something you’re allowed to see now. There’s that quiet softness in the corner of his mouth when he looks at you. The way his hand lifts almost instinctively when your foot stutters during a spin, like he’d catch you even from twenty feet away. The tension in his jaw that only releases when you smile.

And when your eyes meet his, he smiles back. It’s small. Barely-there. One of those half-smiles he pretends not to mean, but it stays. And for the first time in years, you feel like maybe, maybe, you’re allowed to want this. Not just the applause, but him.

The demon who stood at your side in silence. The one who stitched your wounds and asked to fight beside you, to protect you and to stay. Maybe you’re allowed to have someone who sees all of you and chooses to stay anyway.

513 notes · View notes

7-deadly-cats · 1 month ago

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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 ->

✿ 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 ->

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

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

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willowsnook · 4 months ago

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halfway to always pt. 2

quinn hughes x sharks!reader

pt. 1 here

tags: @hockeybabe87 @enjoymyloves @freyathehuntress @onlyreadz @how-what-why-huh @1loverc @stormsies

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It had been a couple of months since your trip out to the lake and you had thrown yourself into work, trying to forget about the oldest Hughes' brother who had left an imprint on your heart. So far it was going well, mostly because Will and Macklin hadn’t been there to harass you about it. They both went home for the rest of summer break and were just now coming back for training camp.

You had plans to meet them at their place when they both got back, and after finally logging off for the day, you made your way over.

“Y/N!” Will yelled as he opened the door, quickly pouncing on you. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” you said into his chest. “My life has been so boring.”

“Of course it has,” Macklin said, coming from out of his room. “We are the most important people in your life.”

“I’m about to replace you though,” you teased, setting down your stuff in the kitchen. “I meet the new guys tomorrow.”

Both of them glared at you, making you giggle.

"You know I'm kidding," you reassured them, hopping up onto their kitchen counter. "So, tell me everything. How was the rest of your summer?"

They launched into stories about family trips and training regimens, Will showing you pictures on his phone while Macklin demonstrated some new workout move he'd learned. You smiled, realizing how much you'd truly missed their chaotic energy.

"What about you?" Will asked finally. "Did you do anything fun after Michigan?"

You shrugged. "Just work, mostly. Helped with rookie camp prep, went home to see my parents for a weekend."

"That's it?" Macklin frowned. "Please tell me you at least went on a date or something."

You rolled your eyes. "No, I did not go on a date.”

You pulled out a bottle of wine from your bag, uncorking it while Will leaned against the counter, watching you with a suspicious expression. "So... have you talked to Quinn at all?"

Your movements faltered for just a second before you recovered, reaching for glasses in the cabinet. "A little. Just texting here and there."

It wasn't exactly a lie. You and Quinn had exchanged messages sporadically since the lake trip—casual check-ins that carefully avoided any mention of what had happened between you. The last text had been over a week ago, a simple "good luck with training camp" from you, followed by his "thanks, you too" reply.

"Just texting?" Macklin pressed, raising an eyebrow.

You sighed, pouring three generous glasses of wine.

“Look,” you started. “We had fun at the lake. But it was just the lake. I’m back to the real-world again.”

“But you guys are so perfect together,” Macklin complained.

“I was with him for less than a week,” you argued back and Will rolled his eyes.

“Love at first sight,” he said and you snorted, even Macklin letting out a little laugh.

“I’m busy with work anyways, so it’s going to be okay,” you said firmly. You turned around to grab your phone and both boys shared a look, an idea already forming.

Step 1: Investigation Time

“Did you see Quinn’s post?” Will asked while you were both out on a morning walk before he had to be at the facility.

“I did not,” you replied, amused. The boys could not leave the idea of you and Quinn alone which was adorable but like you’d told them earlier: there wasn’t anything to it. You had kissed a lot of boys in your lifetime - it didn’t always have to mean something. There was no reason to even let your mind entertain the idea.

“You made it,” he said, trying to contain his excitement. “It’s a summer recap.”

Leaning over his shoulder, you looked at this specific picture. It was of Quinn at the grill and you next to him, holding a plate of food. It was a sweet picture, and you made a mental note to screenshot it later to keep for memories.

“Very nice Will,” you commented and he beamed.

“You too look so good together,” he said and you snorted.

“Not giving this up?” You teased and he shook his head.

“You were so into him on the trip,” he said. “I want to see you happy.”

“I am happy Will,” you said. “I don’t need a man to be happy.”

"I know," Will said, more serious than you'd expected. "I just think you guys had something real. And maybe it's worth exploring."

You sighed, watching the morning light filter through the trees as you walked. "Even if there was something there, what would be the point? He lives in Vancouver. I live here. Both of us have demanding careers that keep us in those places."

"Long distance?" Will suggested.

You laughed, but it came out hollow. "For what? A connection we felt after knowing each other for a few days? That's not enough to build something on."

Will fell silent for a moment, considering your words. "You know, I've never seen you light up around anyone the way you did with him."

The observation hit you harder than you expected, and you quickened your pace slightly. "I'm not having this conversation anymore."

"Fine," Will conceded, jogging away. “Then I’m not buying you coffee.”

“You promised,” you complained, jogging after him.

Meanwhile, Macklin and Jack were working on Quinn.

“Hey man what’s up?” Quinn said, answering his phone.

“Just wanted to call before the season started,” Macklin said.

“Getting a little nervous?” Quinn asked.

“I feel like the pressure is way up this year for me,” Macklin admitted.

“It feels like that for everyone their second year,” Quinn told him. “Especially because of how well you did last year. Just stay focused. You have good people supporting you.”

Macklin saw his segway and took it, “Yeah I do. I don’t know what I would do without Will and Y/n. You remember her?”

Quinn rolled his eyes before answering, “I know what you’re doing.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Macklin replied, feigning innocence. “Just wondering if you guys had talked since the lake.”

“I’m sure you can ask her that,” Quinn said, avoiding the question.

"I'm asking you though," Macklin pressed.

"We've texted a bit," Quinn finally admitted, his voice carefully neutral. "Just checking in."

"That's it? Just checking in?" Macklin asked, clearly disappointed.

Quinn sighed, running a hand through his hair as he paced around his living room. "What do you want me to say, Mack? That I think about her all the time? That I wish things were different? None of that changes the reality."

"Which is?"

"You know which is. She's in San Jose. I'm in Vancouver. We both have careers that keep us in those cities."

"People do long distance all the time," Macklin countered.

Quinn let out a humorless laugh. "Based on what? A week together? A kiss? That's not enough to build something real on."

There was a pause on the other end of the line before Macklin spoke again, his voice sincere. "I know it's none of my business, but Y/n is important to me. And I haven’t seen her act like that around someone literally ever. I’m just floating the idea that maybe you could figure something out.”

“We’ll see,” Quinn said shortly before hanging up.

Jack and Luke had flown to Vancouver the week before the season started to see their oldest brother. It was a short trip, but they played some rounds of golf and had plenty of time to relax before they wouldn’t see each other for a bit.

The night before they were heading back to New Jersey, they were out to dinner when Jack started his subtle inquiry, already proud of himself for not bringing up y/n yet this weekend.

“So, you guys play the Sharks in a couple of weeks?” Jack asked casually and Luke instantly snorted. Quinn looked up from his phone, giving his brother a pointed look.

“That’s usually how a hockey season works,” Quinn shot back. “Conspiring with Macklin now are you?”

Jack huffed, “I’m just making conversation. Just wondering if you have any plans to see anyone after the game or anything.”

“Not as of right now,” Quinn replied honestly. “We haven’t really spoken since the beginning of training camp.”

“Hmm,” Jack replied.

Quinn paused, setting his fork down and giving his brothers a serious look. "Look, I appreciate that you guys care, but this isn't helping. Y/n and I had a connection, yes. But sometimes timing just doesn't work out."

"But—" Jack started.

"No," Quinn cut him off firmly. "I don't want to talk about this anymore. Not everything has a neat resolution, okay?"

The finality in his tone silenced both his brothers. Luke shot Jack a warning glance, and the subject was dropped for the remainder of dinner.

Step 2: The Setup

Will's phone buzzed with a text from Jack: "Operation reunite stubborn idiots is a go. Quinn just landed in San Jose."

Will nudged Macklin, showing him the message. They shared a conspiratorial smile before turning their attention back to you. You were sitting across from them in the players’ lounge, a few hours before the game tonight.

“So,” Will cleared his throat and your head snapped up. “What are you doing after the game?”

Your eyes narrowed, “I was planning on just going home but i’m getting the feeling that you are going to drag em to something.”

“Toff rented out this bar for his birthday tonight,” Will said. “So you should come because it’s his birthday and you know him.”

You did know Toff, you knew every player but you weren’t really that acquainted with him. “Did he ask that I be there?”

“Just come y/n,” Macklin said exasperated. “You need to get out of the house.”

“Fine,” you said, rolling your eyes. You missed seeing the boys bump each other’s fists under the table, turning your attention back to your phone.

The Canucks steamrolled the Sharks, but the boys still had a good game, so you were pleased by that. You had changed in your office from your business clothes to just a plain white tank top and jeans and now were waiting by the players’ entrance.

“Hey stranger,” a voice called out and you froze. Quinn was giving you a small smile as he walked towards you and you couldn’t help but grin.

“Hi,” you greeted him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He held on to you for a second too long and your heart was racing at the physical contact.

“I’m looking for Will and Macklin actually, have you seen them?” Quinn asked he pulled back.

“Funny, I’m looking for them too,” you said, and the pieces started to click together. Both of your phone buzzed at the same time and you looked down to see what Will had said.

WS: Sorry guys, we caught a ride with someone else. I’m sure you can carpool to the bar tho. Bye!!!

You groaned as Quinn shook his head. “Relentless,” you muttered.

“Tell me about it,” Quinn mused. “Guess I’ll follow you.”

You chatted about the game as you walked to the car, Quinn filling you in on how the team was looking so far and you telling him about the new rookies. The way conversation fell so naturally it was like you were at the lake just last week.

"So," you finally said as you pulled into the parking lot, "how long are the boys going to keep this up?"

Quinn chuckled, running a hand through his still-damp hair. "Knowing Jack, probably until one of us gets married."

You laughed, though the comment sent an unexpected flutter through your chest. "Will and Macklin are just as bad. They've been not-so-subtly bringing you up for weeks."

"Same with Jack and Luke," Quinn admitted. "I think they're all in a group chat about it."

As you walked toward the bar entrance, Quinn's hand brushed against yours—perhaps accidentally, perhaps not. Neither of you acknowledged it, but seeing how packed the bar was, you slipped your hand into his, not wanting to lose him on the way to wherever Will and Macklin were. His hand tightened around yours and it was the first thing the boys looked at when you emerged from the crowd, both lighting up.

You dropped Quinn’s hand as you reached the table, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I waited for you guys for 20 minutes,” you said.

“Sorry y/n, Eklund insisted we come with him,” Macklin said innocently. Quinn snorted from behind you, shaking his head.

“Whatever, I’m getting a drink,” you muttered, leaving them all behind for the bar.

Quinn watched you weave through the crowd toward the bar, then turned to fix Will and Macklin with a stern look. "Subtle, guys. Really subtle."

Macklin shrugged,. "Did it work though?"

"Did what work?" Quinn asked, though he knew exactly what they were getting at.

"Come on," Will groaned. "You two were holding hands!"

"So I wouldn't lose her in the crowd," Quinn explained, though the excuse sounded weak even to his own ears.

Macklin and Will exchanged knowing glances. "Right," Macklin drawled. "That's definitely it."

Quinn sighed, leaning against the table. "Look, I appreciate what you guys are trying to do, but it's complicated."

"It's really not," Will argued. "You like her, she likes you. What's complicated about that?"

Quinn ran a hand through his hair. He really was starting to wear down when it came to that question. Seeing you again had reignited what he felt at the lake, and he was running out of excuses to at least not give it a try.

You came back a little later, wordlessly handing Quinn a beer before sitting down next to Will. Quinn ended up getting pulled away by some other guys he was friends with, and your table was joined by a couple of WAGs that you were somewhat friends with. You didn’t really hang out with most of them, but the ones who sat with you were around the same age as you, so it was an easy friendship.

A couple of hours went by and you were caught up in a conversation with Carl Berglund when you felt a presence behind you. You looked over your shoulder to see Quinn, looking between you and Carl, his jaw tightening.

“Hey man, good to see you,” Carl said reaching out his hand, unaware of the tension.

“You too,” Quinn said shortly, shaking it. Carl looked between the two of you before smirking and raising his beer.

“Nice talking to you y/n, i’ll see you later,” he said before walking to join another conversation. You turned to Quinn amused.

“What was that about?” You asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said nonchalantly, looking anywhere but you.

You raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing on your lips. "You're a terrible liar, Quinn Hughes."

He sighed, finally meeting your eyes. "Fine. I didn't like seeing you with him."

"With Carl?" you asked, genuinely surprised. "We were just talking."

"I know," Quinn admitted, taking a swig of his beer. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."

The jealousy in his voice sent a thrill through you that you tried to ignore. You stepped closer to him, lowering your voice. "You don't get to be jealous when you won't even admit there's something here."

His eyes darkened as they held yours. "Who says I won't admit it?"

Your heart skipped a beat. "You've had months to do something about it."

"So have you," he countered.

The admission hung between you, charged with everything left unsaid from the summer. You set your drink down, suddenly feeling too warm.

"Want to get some air?" you asked quietly.

Quinn nodded, following as you weaved through the crowd toward the back exit. The cool night air was a relief after the stuffy bar, and you took a deep breath, leaning against the brick wall.

"So," you started, looking up at the stars rather than at him.

"So," he drawled out. “I can’t get you out of my head.”

You were surprised by the admission, turning to face him fully as he stared into your eyes.

“I could say the same thing,” you admitted quietly. Neither of you said anything for a bit, just taking in one another’s presence.

“What do we have to do to make this work?” He asked, breaking the silence.

You sighed, leaning back against the wall before answering truthfully, “I don’t know.”

He moved in front of you, bringing one hand to rest on your waist and your breath hitched at the contact.

"I know it might be ridiculous," Quinn murmured, his thumb tracing small circles on your waist, "to feel this strongly about someone I've spent so little time with. But I can't stop thinking about what could happen if we just... tried."

Your heart raced as he leaned closer, his forehead almost touching yours. "What are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting we stop making excuses," he said, his voice low and certain. "We play each other four times this season. I have the All-Star break, you have holidays. There are bye weeks and off-days. We have phones. We have FaceTime. Vancouver to San Jose is a two-hour flight."

You closed your eyes, letting his words wash over you. The practical part of your brain wanted to list all the reasons why this was complicated—the distance, your careers, the logistics—but another part of you, the part that had been daydreaming about him for months, was tired of being practical.

“We can try,” you finally said and a small smile broke out across his face. He inched his head closer, pressing his lips against yours in a sweet kiss. Your hand travelled up to his hair, pulling him deeper into you and he pressed you harder against the wall as his mouth moved against yours. When you finally pulled apart, breathless, his eyes were dark with wanting.

"I've been thinking about doing that again since the lake," he admitted, his thumb tracing your lower lip.

You smiled against his touch. "Me too."

The door to the bar swung open suddenly, spilling light and noise into the alleyway. Will stood there, his eyes widening as he took in the scene before him.

"Finally!" he exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air before disappearing back inside, presumably to tell Macklin and you groaned, resting your head against Quinn’s shoulder.

“I’m sure i’ll get a cryptic text from Jack soon,” Quinn muttered and you giggled, bringing your lips up to his once more.

“Worth it.”

Pt 3

#nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine

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gyeomsweetgyeom · 5 months ago

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⋆⭒˚.⋆ Self-On Kode with Jeno ⋆⭒˚.⋆

idol!Jeno x f!idol!reader

summary: there's no way that the boy in the picture you've been sent is the same boy that was your best friend almost a decade ago... right?

(cw: f!reader, idol!reader)

a/n: I am not currently accepting any new self-on kode requests

divider from adornedwithlight <3

To say you were nervous was an understatement. This was your first ever official talk show interview after a long needed hiatus. You had been in the public spotlight for years now with only a few shorts in between. There was no nearly enough time off to make up for the long days and even longer nights. Now though, you felt extremely well rested and very ready to promote your new album.

With the go ahead from the staff you smiled brightly at the camera, kicking on your charisma. You wiggle your fingers in a wave, "hello there, I bet you've missed me, huh? Today I will be messaging a stranger and I'll have to try to figure out who it is."

While your music kicked on and you bopped your head to the song, Jeno walked onto the set, settling into the pink armchair with his usual eye smile at the camera. "Hello again, I am Jeno from NCT Dream," he bows his head softly before mumbling to himself, "I hope this is better than last time."

He looks at the staff directly, eyes wide with nervous curiosity, "it's not Chenle this time right? This time it's real?" The staff nod while laughing and he relaxes into the plush chair and types out the first message, a simple hello.

You read the message and type out your response. The conversation continues for a while, simple small talk as each of you try to sus each other out. You know that he's very inquisitive, every other message is a question, and he seems young since he uses slang and understands your jokes.

Then comes the first prompt, send your most recent food orders you slowly raise your gaze from your screen to the camera. "This is not going to be very exciting on my end," you warn before taking the screen shot and sending it to your partner.

You study the screenshot sent your way, making conversation about the various dishes and complimenting their taste. Then it comes, Jeno's brows furrow, mumbling to himself, "am I seeing this right?"

His finger tap against his screen quickly, "you haven't ordered any food in three months?"

You purse your lips as you reply, "I just spent a long break at home with my family. I don't want to eat out when my mom and grandma are cooking for me anyway."

Jeno hums in agreement, replying, "that makes sense. If I was home I don't think I'd eat out much either."

From that point on the conversation continues and it feels easier. You're still not sure exactly who you're texting but you just get the vibe that it's a younger guy, maybe even someone your age.

Finally after silly would you rathers and stupid conversations, the interview is coming to an end with an exchange of childhood pictures and your drawing of your partner.

You send a picture of yourself as a toddler, the bowl cut style on your head makes it impossible to determine your gender and it's an old enough picture that it doesn't look too much like you now. Plus, it's only half the picture, even harder to figure out who you are.

Jeno sighs as he looks at the screen, he's not a good artist, drawing isn't his thing, not even close. He sends off his picture without a second thought and gets to work doodling and writing captions or ideas when he doesn't trust his drawing skills. He grumbles to himself as he tries his best to create a drawing or as close as he can get to a drawing as he can.

But on the other side of the wall you sit, staring at the image. Something about it just seems so... familiar. The picture is half of a little boy, he has one hand holding up a thumbs up, his eyes nearly closed with how big his smile is, and someone else's arm thrown over his shoulder pinching his cheek. Why does this picture of a random half a little boy seem so familiar?

Your phone buzzed multiple times, but you can't tear your eyes away from the picture, forcing your brain to work twice as hard to try to place the image.

Jeno stares at his phone with pure confusion. His fingers tap over the keyboard, "hello? Are you there? Hellooooo? Are you in the bathroom? Is this another prank?"

You shake your head, ignoring the prompt and the drawing sent your way. It's a bad drawing anyway. You reply, "send me the whole picture."

Jeno looks at the staff with wide eyes, "huh? Is that allowed?" The staff shrug, trying to seem nonchalant so he sends the full picture your way, waiting for your response with pure curiosity.

On your end you gasp. You know why the picture looks so familiar. The bracelet hanging off the second person's wrist, the house in the backyard, the young kid in the picture. You look at the camera, "it's Jeno!"

Lee Jeno. You hadn't seen or heard from him in years. He had been both your neighbor and your best friend when you were a kid but sometime around 11 or 12 years old he moved away and you lost touch. He had started training for SM and a year later you started training for another company. At that point you didn't really even have time to think about him since you were so busy with your own career. You had seen his debut and kept up with every comeback as a silent fan. Jeno had been your best friend, of course you were going to support him.

You never felt the need to share that you knew the Lee Jeno from NCT Dream. Fans could be crazy with the little amount of information you already shared and you didn't want to deal with any unnecessary haters for simple having a friend when you were a child. Plus, the topic simply never came up. Interviewers didn't ask about your childhood friends, they didn't ask about former neighbors, or any other idols that you might know. It was easy to hide, but not now.

Instead of waiting for the countdown from the staff, you pulled out your earbuds and left your phone on the seat and walked toward the blue half of the set. His eyes look up, you can see it in his eyes that he recognizes you and then warmth floods his face as he jumps from his chair and hugs you tightly. He laughs with disbelief, "it's you!"

You laugh, tightening your arms around him while the staff all coo and aww behind the camera. The hug lasts much longer than what is shown in the video and the editors thankfully cut the scenes where you cry happy tears.

You and Jeno sit side by side at a high top table, listening to the staff ask you both to share your story. You laugh, "Jeno and I were neighbors and best friends growing up. Our moms were best friends after his family moved in a few houses away since they both had babies about the same age and after that Jeno and I became best friends too. We went to school together, we had play dates, we had dinner at each other's houses almost every night. He was my best friend."

Jeno smiles at you, finding it hard to turn his attention back to the camera when you're sitting beside him looking so happy as much more mature than you did over a decade ago. Did the crush he had on you just reignite? He shakes his head, refocusing himself, "yeah, but then I started training and we lost touch. I guess we never thought to exchange information. Every time I went home during breaks you were gone and vice versa. It is very good to see you again, though."

Jeno bumps your shoulder with his own, "so, what about the picture gave it away?"

You deadpan, "Jeno, it's my hand squeezing your cheek and it's in front of my house."

Jeno flushes, nodding awkwardly, "...right."

You laugh and the two of you finally get the opportunity to catch up, for a little too long. You know that over half of this conversation will be cut. You talk about your moms, how his life is going, your newest comeback and childhood memories.

Finally, the staff have the heart to interrupt you both and instruct you both to take the picture. Instead of the usual selfie, you and Jeno ask one of the staff to take the picture for you. Jeno has to bend his knees to match your height as he rests his head on your shoulder, holding his thumb up while your fingers lightly squeeze his cheek. You both have matching bright smiles on your faces as the screen fades to the closing screen with a side by side of your full childhood picture together and the remake.

It's no surprise that a few months later you and Jeno are seen together more and more. He mentions you in lives and in vlogs and you do the same. It's a year or so later when your companies finally confirm that you're both dating, but your fans didn't need the confirmation. It was made abundantly clear that you and Jeno knew each other better than anyone else.

#kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #nct #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct x reader #nct dream #nct dream imagines #nct dream fluff #nct dream x reader #jeno fluff #jeno x reader #jeno imagines

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hislily00 · 2 months ago

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Thorough Examination

Synopsis: You were in Zayne’s office for a routine check up but you had another examination in mind.

Tags — - doctor x patient, doctor’s office, fingering, cunninligus, the gloves stay on, edging. soft dom zayne, you have to be quiet,

Enjoy >:)

“Sorry I’m—“

“Late…once again.” His gaze remained on his laptop. He was acclimated to her tardiness so he always made sure her appointments were scheduled before his lunch.

“I got caught in the rain and then there was a report on Tobias I had to do before I left. It was just a lot going on today” she took off her hunter’s jacket and holster, hanging it on the hook. He stared at her over his glasses before pushing them to the bridge of his nose.

“Dr.Li.…” he got up from his chair and leaned against the window, crossing his arms

“I told you about the weather last night, I even sent you a screenshot of the report….and where’s the umbrella I purchased for you?” He shook his head “You’ll be lucky if you don’t catch a cold” she sighed with a smile. ‘He’s so handsome when tries to be stern’ she thought to herself.

“If you were any other patient—“ her soft lips met his cheek shaking his resolve — he was supposed to scold her but that smug look on her face, that smile, her wet hair… it was disarming.

“Good thing im not ‘any other patient’, right Dr. Li?” She pulled a small container out of her purse. “Does this make up for it ?” His eyes softened seeing the matcha macaroons. It was his favorite flavor, she wasn’t playing fair. He feigned hesitation as he took the box from her.

“Change out of those wet clothes…I’ll have Yvonne put them in the dryer” he muttered.

“Is this necessary, a hospital gown?” She kicked her feet while she sat on the hospital bed. “It’s not like you haven’t seen every part of me” she grumbled.

“Well yes, since you are in fact in a hospital and you are my patient in this setting.“ his tone was warm but matter fact. He placed the stethoscope on her chest, the cold metal could be felt through her sheer gown. His hazel eyes darted around the room as he listened for any abnormalities. She missed being this close to him, and unfortunately with his busy schedule; a doctor’s appointment was the only way to spend time with him. It’s been a month since they’ve been this close and their late night texts and voice memos couldn’t satiate the need to be underneath him. She wondered if Zayne felt the same way.

“Breathe in….now breathe out” he repeated this on her back. “Respiratory looks good” he said more to this more to himself as he took notes.

“Blood pressure is a little high...” While it wasn’t too elevated to be cause of concern, he didn’t want to take any risk when it came to her heart, even if the aether core was dormant. “We’re going to do an EKG” He untied her gown from behind, she pulled it down revealing her chest. ‘Take it off for me…’ echoed in her skull, her tongue twirled the saliva in her mouth as she thought about his trembling voice, his touch, the sounds of their passion—.

“Y/N?” Her head whipped towards him, whisking her out of the memory immediately.

“Huh?”

“I said lay back for me”

“Right, s-sorry”

“You have nothing to be sorry for…” he placed the wired stickers on her chest, lifting each breast in order to stick one to her skin. His big hands cupped them, his thumb brushing against her nipple, and for a second she thought he lingered a little longer than usual.

“You’re all done and your clothes should be dried by now”

“Zayne…i actually wanted to check one more thing…” she said bashfully.

“Hm?” His curiosity peaked, he brought his stool up to the hospital bed.

“I’m having a problem, down there…I used a toy last night and im experiencing a little pain. I think I overdid it” her knees rubbed together, even she was getting turned on by her lie. Zayne looked down between her legs and back at her, he gulped in attempt to maintain his composure. “I think I was too rough with myself…do you think you can take a look?”

“Ehem …I could refer you to a gynecologist, they could—“

“I’m not comfortable telling them what happened…you understand right…I only trust you.” She separated her legs, her lips spilling out of her lacy underwear, It was a tantalizing sight

“I’ll see what I can do”

He washed his hands and put on a fresh pair of gloves. His hands coaxed her legs further apart. “I’ll take these off now” his tone almost surgical. He pulled them off slowly watching the black lace glide down her legs. Gulp his adam’s apple bobbed at the sight of her bare cunt. Was his pants getting tighter?

“Tell me what happened…” her pussy was glistening and he couldn’t resist rolling his gloved thumb over her bud of nerves.

“Well I was using…a dildo and it was too…big…” she gasped as he pulled her hood back.

“Keep going…” he whispered

“Uh..i um probably didn’t use enough lube…I was careless…” she tried to focus on explaining her lie but it was getting harder.

“I see…let me take a closer look” he pulled her thighs up towards him. His fingers circled around her walls before slowly sinking into her. Zayne could feel her pulsing, it was making him rock hard. He attempted to pull his slacks to give him a little more room for his growing member.

“Does it hurt?”

“A little…” she moaned

He nodded, slowly pumping his fingers before adding a third finger. “Fuck…” she didn’t hear his hushed expletive. It was the way her wet pussy looked on his fingers, her essence gushing on his gloves. He was utterly drunk.

With her entrance gaping, he looked for any signs of irritation. None…but he wasn’t ready for this to be over.

“Y/N…you feel tender and your clitoris is swollen…I think I can help however, you might find the solution unconventional…”

“Just do whatever you need to do, Dr. Li”

He continued pumping his fingers before spitting on her cunt. “This is what happens when you do this without me….” He watched the spit drip down to his fingers. “Call me next time…I’ll guide you…” he whispered.

“Yes…yes…I’ll call…fuck…” she moaned.

Her fingers gripped the sheet paper. I guess being so touch deprived made her extra sensitive because she could feel her orgasm creeping up on her, this made evident by how her legs shook. “Nghh~”

“You have to be quiet. Can you do that for me? Or else I’ll have to stop”

“Okay…okay I’ll be quiet” she moaned softly.

“Good girl…now I’ll make you feel better” he leaned forward, his breath ghosting over her throbbing heat. One kiss…then another…his lips pursed over her hood, sucking her clit.

“Put your legs on my shoulders.”

He gripped her thighs to anchor her. Pleasure surged from her core and throughout her body and right as she was about to come he stopped. “Zayne what are you…” breathless and eager, she flexed her hips towards his face.

“I don’t want you to cum yet…not yet…sweetheart” he kissed her soft inner thighs. “I need you, now” he stood up and brought her knees together; laying them to the side on the hospital bed.

His thrust were deep but slow especially since he didn’t want to alert any staff. Technically he was on his lunch hour but the charge nurses haven’t seen him for a while. But with each motion, she moaned and whimpered.

“Sweetheart…what did I say?” he pulled out and slapped his cock against her cunt. “I won’t let you come if you don’t listen…are you going to listen to your doctor” he whispered.

“Yes, I’ll listen…please…” she pleaded. He teased her clit with his tip — sliding his cock through her folds before pulling her close to him.. “Come with me…” his hands gripped her back, holding her against him so tightly. Their bodies shuddered in each other’s embrace. He showered her with kisses and praise as she nodded off.

“Can I say something…I lied”

“I know…” she looked at him wide eyed “I am a cardiovascular surgeon after all…’your clitoris is swollen’ What…did I fool you?” he grinned.

“No…of course not”

Laughter erupted because of their ridiculous lies. They were desperate for intimacy but next time, they’ll be honest.

“So Dr.Li….when can I see my Zayne.”

“He has a day off tomorrow…” she wrapped his hands around his neck.

“….we can go to the park and have a picnic. How does that sound?”

#love and deepspace smut #loveanddeepspace #love and deepspace zayne #zayne love and deepspace #zayne x mc #lads zayne #lnds smut #lnds #lads smut #doctor x patient #zayne x reader #lads

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heejamas · 6 months ago

Text

nicest guy: 22. unspoken desires

word count: ~5.5k words + 7 screenshots

warnings: profanity, sexual jokes, weed consumption, alcohol consumption, jake and hoon hate each other, lil bit voyeurish (spoilers), very suggestive

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There’s something uniquely terrifying about being invited to a college party—especially when it’s at Yeonjun’s frat house. Not in the way horror movies are, where someone’s about to get stabbed by a masked lunatic. No, this is worse. This is the kind of terrifying that comes from knowing the night will definitely end in chaos, and somehow, you’ll be at the center of it.

more under the cut

The last time you set foot in Yeonjun’s chaotic palace of regrets and poor decisions, Sunghoon puked on your cousin—yes, your actual flesh-and-blood cousin who was just trying to enjoy a casual Friday night. The cops showed up ten minutes later, and you ended up hiding in a room with both Jake and Sunghoon. To top it off, your older brother almost got arrested because someone (and you’re not saying it was Woonhak, but let’s be real, it was Woonhak) thought it’d be funny to sneak into the party, got stuck in the bushes outside, and caused such a commotion that he got 2 million likes on TikTok sharing his story.

So yeah, when Jake—quarterback extraordinaire and human golden retriever—invited you to another party at Yeonjun’s, your first instinct was to laugh. Your second instinct was to say no, but Jake’s puppy eyes were criminally persuasive.

You caught that subtle hint of “I’ll literally implode if you don’t come.” Jake’s crush on you wasn’t exactly subtle. It was the kind of crush that was written all over his face every time he saw you, like he was auditioning for a rom-com where he was the lovable idiot and you were the girl who was way too good for him.

Then there was Sunghoon, who… well, let’s just say he was a different breed. If Jake was a golden retriever, Sunghoon was a cat. One of those sleek, arrogant ones that you desperately wanted to pet, even though you knew they’d probably claw your hand off. He’d be there too. Of course he would. The universe had a sick sense of humor like that.

Now you’re standing in front of your closet, trying to decide if you want to look hot enough to make Jake’s jaw drop, or just cool enough to get under Sunghoon’s skin.

So you decided to have some fun. At least.

When you finally arrive at Yeonjun’s, the bass from the music is already thudding so hard it feels like it’s trying to crack the pavement. Sunoo and Giselle, your best friends and loyal companions for this adventure, are walking on either side of you, both armed with energy that screams “let’s make tonight unforgettable.”

Inside, the party is already in full swing, and you’re immediately greeted by the familiar chaos: red solo cups everywhere, someone already trying to drunkenly rap along to the music, and Yeonjun himself standing on a table pretending to DJ. You scan the room until your eyes land on your brother, who’s laughing with none other than Sunghoon.

Great. Sunghoon. Just your luck.

Your brother waves you over, and as you approach, you realize the group is bigger than you expected. Sunghoon, of course, is there, but so is Jay, his roommate, along with Leehan and Taesan, who you recognize from the last party disaster.

“Y/n!” your brother calls, throwing an arm around your shoulder like he hasn’t seen you in years. “Finally, you’re here.”

You exchange greetings, but your eyes keep flickering to Sunghoon, who’s watching you with that unreadable expression he always has. He’s been acting weird around you lately, and you’re pretty sure you know why. He wants you back. He’s finally admitted it to himself, even if he’ll never say it out loud.

Still, he’s sticking close, hovering just enough to make his presence known. And as much as you’d like to ignore it, you can’t help but notice the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the only person in the room. It’s unsettling—and annoyingly flattering.

But you’ve got bigger problems. Like the fact that Jake is also here, and you need to go say hi to him. After all, he’s the one who invited you, and it would be rude not to. You excuse yourself from your brother’s group, promising to catch up later, and head toward the other side of the room where you spotted Jake. Jake, incredibly hot Jake.

Jake lights up when he sees you, his grin as bright and boyish as ever. “Y/n! You made it!”

“Of course I did,” you say, returning his smile. “I couldn’t miss the big victory party, could I?”

“Exactly,” Jake says, clearly thrilled that you’re here. “We totally crushed it last week, didn’t we? Sunghoon and I were unstoppable out there.”

“You were great,” you agree, though you can’t help but notice the slight tension in his voice when he mentions Sunghoon. The two of them may be incredible on the field, but off the field, their mutual dislike is impossible to ignore.

“Speaking of Sunghoon,” Jake says, glancing over your shoulder, “is he still glued to you, or did he finally give you some space?”

You turn to see Sunghoon not far away, leaning against a wall but very much keeping you in his line of sight. The look on his face when your eyes meet is enough to send a shiver down your spine. It’s almost like a challenge, daring you to ignore him.

“I asked both of you to be civil tonight,” you remind Jake with a raised eyebrow. “Can you at least try?”

Jake sighs dramatically but nods. “For you? Fine. But only because you asked nicely.”

Sunghoon leaned against the wall, his eyes fixed on you and Jake as if they were glued there by some invisible force. He hated this—hated how much he noticed the way Jake’s grin widened when you laughed, how easily you seemed to click with him. But mostly, he hated the way he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

There was something magnetic between you two, something that made it impossible for Sunghoon to keep his distance. He didn’t want to admit it at first, but lately, it was all he could think about. The way your smile made his chest tighten, the way your presence turned every room into something brighter, warmer. And it wasn’t just him—he knew Jake felt it too. He could see it in the way Jake looked at you, like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

This wasn’t the first time he and Jake had been in this situation, though. A painful memory tugged at the edges of his mind, a memory he wished he could bury. Wonyoung. That name alone was enough to make his stomach twist. Back when he and Jake were friends—actual friends, not whatever tense truce they had now—they’d both fallen for Wonyoung. She’d played them both, lied to them, and left their friendship in ruins. But neither of them knew the full truth about what happened, not really. Sunghoon had tried to piece it together, but the whole thing still felt like a mess of half-truths and unanswered questions.

And now, here they were again, caught in a silent war over you.

He clenched his jaw, watching as Jake led you across the room to meet his friends. Sunghoon’s fists tightened at his sides, but he didn’t move. Not yet. He didn’t want to cause a scene, especially not here. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that history was about to repeat itself—and this time, it would be worse.

Jake, on the other hand, was living his best life. He couldn’t believe you were actually here, standing next to him, smiling like you weren’t the most gorgeous person in the room. He’d been planning this all week—trying to make sure everything was perfect, or at least as perfect as it could be at Yeonjun’s chaotic house party.

“Come on,” Jake said, his hand brushing yours as he guided you through the crowd. “Let’s find the guys."

When you reached their group, they greeted you like an old friend. Heeseung was the first to pull you into a quick hug, his usual warm grin lighting up his face. “Y/n! Finally. Jake’s been insufferable all week, you know. All, ‘Do you think she’ll come? What should I wear?’ It was tragic.”

“Shut up,” Jake groaned, rubbing the back of his neck while you laughed.

Beomgyu piped up next, his energy as chaotic as ever. “And don’t forget how he made us all run drills twice this week. ‘Gotta keep the momentum from the game,’” Beomgyu said, mimicking Jake’s voice. “It’s a party, not a press conference, dude.”

“You’re just mad I benched you last semester,” Jake shot back, smirking.

Beomgyu held up his hands in mock surrender. “Fair. But hey, at least now they know I’m not just a benchwarmer.”

“They should’ve known that the second you stepped on the field,” you said, giving him a small smile. “That last game? You killed it.”

Beomgyu’s grin widened. “Thanks, Y/n. At least someone here appreciates me.”

Soobin chimed in with a dry laugh. “Don’t let it go to your head, Beomgyu.”

The banter flowed easily, the group dynamic comfortable and familiar. But despite the lighthearted vibe, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something else was brewing. You’d caught Sunghoon watching you earlier, his gaze heavy, like he was trying to tell you something without words. And Jake—he was trying so hard to keep your attention, but there was an edge to him tonight, a tension that didn’t quite match his usual easygoing demeanor.

Later, Jake led you outside, away from the noise and chaos of the party. The cool night air wrapped around you as you stepped onto the deck, and for a moment, it felt like you could breathe again.

Jake leaned against the railing, his hands in his pockets as he looked over at you. “You’re having fun, right?”

“I am,” you said, smiling. “Your friends always make it easy.”

“They like you,” Jake said, his voice softer now. “I mean… who wouldn’t?”

The way he was looking at you made your stomach flip. There was something different about his expression—something serious, almost vulnerable. He took a step closer, the tension between you building with each passing second. The cool night air was a relief after the chaos inside, and you leaned against the railing, letting out a breath. Jake stood next to you, that signature lopsided grin playing on his lips.

“But they speak way too much,” he sighed. “Thought I’d never get you alone.”

You raised a brow. “Oh? That was your goal all along?”

He chuckled, tilting his head. “What can I say? Gotta take my chances.”

It was easy with Jake. The banter, the teasing—it never felt forced. And maybe that’s what made moments like this dangerous.

“Gotta admit,” he continued, eyes flicking to yours, “you look really good tonight.”

The way he said it, casual but undeniably flirty, sent a small thrill down your spine.

“You say that like I don’t always look good,” you shot back, smirking.

Jake laughed, bumping his shoulder against yours. “Okay, fair point.”

For a moment, the conversation lulled, but it wasn’t awkward. Just… charged. He was close, and you could tell he was waiting for something. A sign, maybe.

And then his expression shifted—just slightly, but enough for you to notice.

Before you could respond, the door to the backyard opened, and Sunghoon stepped out, his eyes immediately locking with yours. Jungwon was with him, even though he had no idea you were there with Jake. Sunghoon looked like he had something on his mind, but when he saw Jake next to you, his expression tightened.

Jungwon and Sunghoon approached you and Jake, their casual demeanor almost making you forget how tense things were between them. Sunghoon gave you a nod, his eyes briefly lingering on you before shifting to Jake. Jungwon seemed to sense the shift, giving a little shrug as he offered Sunghoon the joint. "Alright, no fights tonight, okay? Let's just keep it chill."

Sunghoon took the joint with a grin that barely concealed the edge in his voice. "Yeah, yeah, no promises," he said, his eyes locking onto Jake for a second too long. The message was clear: they were both trying to play nice, but it was only because you asked them to. And neither of them were doing it because they wanted to.

"Hey," Jungwon greeted with his usual friendly grin. "You two good?"

"Yeah," you answered, flashing a smile. "Just enjoying the fresh air."

Sunghoon didn’t say much, just a subtle tilt of his head as he looked at both of you. His eyes then shifted to the joint in his hand, a hint of a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. "Want a hit?" Sunghoon asked, his voice smooth, offering it to you and Jake. The offer hung in the air, the tension between him and Jake as thick as the smoke curling around them.

Jake shot Sunghoon a glance, his posture stiffening for just a second. "Nah, we’re good," he said, quickly turning to you. "Right, Y/N?"

You shrugged, but the playful glint in your eye didn’t escape Sunghoon's notice. "I’m good," you replied, your voice light. "But thanks."

"Alright then," Sunghoon said, exhaling smoke and offering a small smile. He didn’t wait for any more responses before walking away, Jungwon falling into step beside him.

As they walked off, you noticed how Sunghoon’s gaze lingered on you with heat in his stare. It was like a challenge, and something in his eyes told you that he wasn’t done with this game yet.

The moment felt charged—electrified—but it broke when Jake cleared his throat, putting a hand gently on your arm. "Let’s head back inside," he suggested, his voice more urgent than usual. "We’re missing all the fun."

As you walked back into the party with Jake, the noise and chaos of Yeonjun's house party immediately swallowed you up. The beat of the music thudded in your chest, and the air was thick with laughter, chatter, and the scent of alcohol. Jake’s hand brushed against yours briefly, but when you reached the group of your friends, he gave you a quick nod, clearly excited to see them.

"Catch you later," he said, his grin easy and casual as he drifted off toward Heeseung and some of the others.

But just before he turned away, you caught a flash of irritation in his eyes. It was subtle, hidden under the mask of his usual charm, but you could tell. He hadn’t gotten his chance with you yet, and that was clearly bugging him. The thought of being brushed off for now didn’t sit well with him, but he wasn’t about to let it show. Not yet.

You could almost feel the weight of his unspoken frustration as he turned his back, but as he made his way through the crowd, his determination was clear. He wasn’t going to give up on you that easily.

You waved him off, letting him disappear into the crowd as you focused on Sunoo and Giselle, who were already waving you over.

"Finally managed to escape the chaos outside?" Sunoo teased, his usual grin spreading across his face. You joined them, enjoying the chat, but there was still a lingering sense of tension that you couldn’t shake off. You tried to push it aside, making the most of the time with your friends.

As Jake disappeared into the crowd, you didn’t think much of it. Instead, you turned back to your friends, a mischievous grin spreading across your face as you decided to let loose for a bit. The rest of the night carried on with drinks, laughter, and dancing. Sunoo and Giselle were already leading you in a ridiculous dance-off, and you were more than happy to oblige, tossing back shots and swaying to the beat as the music enveloped you.

For a while, you forgot all about the JakeHoon situation. The fun of the night kept you distracted, and you laughed harder than you had in a long time.

But as the night wore on, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something—or rather, someone—was missing. When you finally found yourself in a quieter spot near the bar, nursing another drink and chatting with Giselle, you felt a flicker of that familiar, magnetic pull again. You turned your head just in time to see Sunghoon walking back into the party, his expression unreadable, but his eyes immediately locking onto yours.

It was almost as if the room quieted when he stepped in, the noise fading in the background as you watched him glide through the crowd with that undeniable confidence. And when his eyes landed on you, that quiet intensity returned, making your heart skip a beat.

He’d been gone for a while, but now, Sunghoon was back—and it seemed like he was looking for something… or maybe someone.

His movements were smooth and effortless, cutting through the crowd like he owned the place. His eyes never strayed from you as he made his way over, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was walking toward you with purpose—like a predator closing in on its prey.

"Hey," Sunghoon said when he reached you, his tone playful, though his gaze was anything but lighthearted. He quickly nodded toward your friends. "You having fun?"

Sunoo grinned back, and Giselle raised an eyebrow, but before either of them could say anything, Sunghoon’s attention shifted solely to you. He leaned closer, just enough to make you feel the warmth of his body next to yours. "Looks like you’ve been enjoying yourself," he remarked, his voice low and easy, as if they’d known each other for much longer than just tonight. What's that supposed to mean?

You raised an eyebrow, trying to match his tone. "Wouldn’t you be too, if you weren't in my shoes?" you replied, voice teasing.

Sunghoon smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "I’m sure you’re used to all the attention by now," he said, giving you a once-over that made your skin prickle. His gaze lingered, and you felt that familiar tension building up between you two.

You chuckled softly, trying to play it off. "I don’t know. Seems like there’s always someone else trying to catch my eye."

Sunghoon’s lips twitched into a half-smirk. "Oh, I’m sure you can keep them waiting. Though," he leaned in a little closer, just enough to make you aware of his proximity, "I wouldn’t keep them waiting too long."

As you exchanged words, you felt a pair of eyes watching you from the corner of your vision. Glancing over, you caught a glimpse of Jake standing across the room, his eyes fixed on the two of you. He didn’t approach, but the tension in his stare was unmistakable.

Sunghoon noticed too, and a smirk tugged at his lips. He pulled back just slightly, his tone shifting. "You should get back to your boyfriend," he said, the words dripping with playful challenge. His gaze, however, was still locked on you, the heat in it not quite masked by the lighthearted remark.

After Sunghoon left, you kept talking with Sunoo and Giselle, trying to shake off the weirdness in the air. You didn’t need to be a mind reader to know Sunghoon’s eyes were on you the entire time. The guy had a way of looking at you like you were his next challenge, and you were starting to get a little tired of it. Or, well, maybe not tired, more like… intrigued?

You were at the bar, scanning the options for your next drink when you felt a familiar presence behind you. Without even having to look, you could feel the tension in the air—it was Jake. You half-turned and gave him a smile. He was leaning against the bar, looking at you like he was about to say something, but there was a little more intent in his gaze than you were used to.

"Hey," Jake said, eyes scanning you quickly, like he was checking for any signs of discomfort. "Everything good?"

"Yeah, just getting a drink," you replied, glancing around at the chaos of the party. It was busy, loud, and full of people—yet, it felt like the noise started to fade when he stood next to you.

Jake leaned in, his arm brushing against yours as he spoke. "Just don’t go overboard with the drinks, alright?" He flashed you a teasing smirk, but there was something softer underneath. "But if you do get a little too wild, don’t worry. I’ll take care of you. Just like you did for me last time."

You raised an eyebrow, a bit surprised by the shift in tone. "You really think I need someone to take care of me?" you teased, your lips curving into a smile.

He chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter. "Well, considering how you saved me from turning into a disaster last time, I figured I’d return the favor." His eyes glinted with a mischievous spark as he added, "But honestly, I’d rather just have you around and make sure you’re enjoying the night."

You smirked, a little flattered but still keeping up the playful attitude. "I’m a big girl, Jake. I think I can handle it."

Jake's grin widened, his eyes locking onto yours with that familiar intensity. He leaned in a bit closer, his voice lower now, almost like he was sharing a secret.

"I know you're a big girl," he said with a playful wink. "But that doesn't mean I can't look out for you. Besides, there's something about keeping you close that makes everything a lot more fun."

You could feel the heat of his words, and it made your heart race a little faster. His tone was smooth, almost dangerously charming. It wasn’t hard to tell that he was enjoying getting under your skin, pushing all the right buttons.

You leaned back against the bar, trying to play it cool. "I’m not sure if you’re trying to flirt with me or just make me feel like I’m about to be babysat, but it’s working either way."

Jake laughed softly, his eyes sparkling with that familiar cocky energy. "Maybe a little bit of both," he teased, then added with a smirk, "But hey, if you’d rather I just focus on keeping you entertained instead of worrying about your drinks, I’m all for that too."

You felt the tension between you two, a pull that only seemed to grow stronger with each word. The music of the party seemed to fade out completely as you locked eyes with him again.

"Alright, so what’s your plan then?" you asked, leaning in just slightly.

Jake took a slow step back, his grin never faltering. "How about I show you a quieter spot?" He raised an eyebrow as he glanced toward the stairs. "We can talk a little more. I promise it’s not as boring as it sounds."

You glanced toward the staircase for a moment, then back at him. A part of you was curious, but you weren’t sure if this was just another one of his playful moves—or something more.

"Lead the way," you said, trying to keep your voice casual, though there was a spark of excitement in your chest.

Jake’s smile was triumphant as he gestured toward the stairs. "This way, then."

As you followed him up the stairs, you couldn’t help but notice the way he moved, confident, almost like he knew exactly how to get under your skin. And as you reached the top of the stairs, you realized there was no backing out now—this was going to be one interesting night.

As you and Jake made your way up the stairs, you couldn’t help but notice Sunghoon standing a little further away, his eyes locked on you two. He looked… well, you couldn’t quite place it, but there was definitely something in his gaze. It wasn’t anger, but it wasn’t exactly admiration either. It was like a mix of confusion, jealousy, and, strangely enough, something else.

You could feel it, but you didn’t have time to linger on it too long. Jake's hand brushed yours as you reached the top of the stairs, and the tension between you two was almost unbearable.

Just as you stepped onto the landing, Jake glanced back, only to find Sunghoon still watching you. Their eyes for a split second, and it was almost like a silent exchange, like they were sizing each other up. Sunghoon took a slow sip from his drink, eyes narrowing slightly, almost as if he was giving Jake some kind of… permission.

Jake, on the other hand, didn’t seem fazed. As you passed a group of people laughing and chatting, you caught a glimpse of Heeseung entering a room with a girl. Jake didn’t recognize her at first, but the moment he saw her face, he remembered the girl's name. Ronnie. Heeseung's situationship. Jake lets out a quiet laugh, though he’s already turning his attention back to you.

Jake, still leading you down the quieter part of the hall, was all smiles as he glanced back at you. “So, what do you think? Pretty nice spot, huh?”

You took in the vibe of the hallway. It was quieter here, a little more private, but not entirely deserted. You could still hear some laughter and faint music from the main area of the party. "Yeah, definitely not the worst place to escape to."

Jake turned to face you, a teasing grin on his face. “Well, you know, I don’t just bring anyone up here.”

You smirked, not missing the implication. “I’m honored, then.”

The playful tension was thick between you two now, and you could tell Jake was trying to decide whether to make his move or not. His eyes flickered down to your lips for a moment, and you felt your heart skip a beat. His smirk turned into something more genuine, more real. He wasn’t just playing anymore—he was figuring out whether you were the kind of girl who would let him take the lead, or if you were going to make him work for it.

"You know," Jake says with that same cocky smile, "I’ve been thinking. You really know how to make everything more interesting than it should be. Not that I’m complaining, of course."

You raise an eyebrow, amused. "Oh? I thought I was just keeping things fun."

Jake chuckles, a little more softly this time. "Yeah, but I’m starting to think I might want to keep you to myself tonight. You know, less distractions."

His tone shifts just a little, something softer underneath the teasing. The air between you both feels a little heavier now, the kind of tension that makes your heart race.

As the playful banter continued, you both found yourselves moving a little closer, the tension building. And you both knew this moment was just about ready to hit a tipping point.

But before Jake could make any move, you noticed out of the corner of your eye—Sunghoon. He was still standing down the hall with Jay, but now, there was no mistaking the look on his face. It wasn’t just curiosity anymore. It was… something more. Jake noticed too, and his posture stiffened, though he didn’t acknowledge Sunghoon directly. He just kept his focus on you.

“You know,” Jake said, leaning in a bit more, “we’re not gonna get interrupted here. Not like back downstairs.”

You raised an eyebrow, a small smirk forming. "You sure?"

Jake chuckled softly, eyes glinting with a touch of amusement. "Definitely not."

And just like that, you both knew—you didn’t need to rush this, but the moment had definitely arrived. As the moment stretched on, you realized this was it. The game was on.

The moment lingered in the air like a breath held too long. You and Jake stood there, just inches apart, the weight of it all between you. The conversation had slowed, but not because there was nothing to say—it was because words didn’t feel necessary anymore.

Jake brushed a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, his fingers grazing your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. "You know, you're even more beautiful up close," he murmured, his voice low and smooth.

You smiled, the playful tension still hanging there. "Flattery, huh? Is that how you get girls?"

He grinned, his gaze shifting between your lips and your eyes. "If it works, yeah. But I think you're more than just… a pretty face."

He leaned in, just enough that you could feel his breath against your lips. Jake’s hand lingered on your chin, tilting your face just the right way, and you felt your heart race. His gaze was intense, but there was a softness in the way he looked at you, like he was waiting for permission, even though neither of you had said a word.

"Is this okay?" he asked softly, his voice barely a whisper, as if he needed you to say it aloud before he could take the next step.

You nodded, a slight smile tugging at your lips. "I think you know it is."

And just like that, his lips were on yours.

It wasn’t just a kiss. It was slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring the moment. He deepened the kiss, pulling you closer, his hands now at your waist, holding you tightly, as if the only thing that mattered in that moment was you and him.

His lips moved against yours with a steady pressure, coaxing you to lean into him. You let out a soft breath as the kiss deepened, and for a moment, everything else—the noise of the party, the other people in the house—disappeared entirely.

Jake’s lips were soft but demanding, his touch gentle but confident, and you couldn’t help but respond. His hand moved to the back of your neck, threading his fingers through your hair, and pulling you even closer, if that was even possible. The heat between you two was undeniable, and for once, everything around you felt irrelevant.

Your pulse quickened, your body instinctively reacting to his closeness. His lips were in perfect sync with yours, and the kiss became more urgent, more intense. You could feel his breath against your skin, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, his heart racing just as fast as yours. His hand moved to your back, drawing you in so tightly you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began.

His lips left yours briefly, and you felt him press his forehead against yours, breathing heavily, the space between you two almost unbearable. His voice was barely a whisper, filled with heat. “You make it hard to stop,” he muttered, his fingers trailing down your back in slow, deliberate motions.

You smirked, your hand brushing against his chest. “You’re not exactly trying to stop.”

Jake chuckled darkly, his lips curving into a smile as he kissed you again, deeper this time. You couldn’t help but respond, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, feeling the strength beneath his clothes. The kiss was no longer just a kiss.

And then, from the corner of your eye, you felt it. Someone was watching.

Sunghoon.

From a distance, he stood there, his eyes fixed on the scene. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t said a word, but the way he watched felt almost too intense. Like he was studying the moment, feeling the tension simmering in his chest, but not knowing what to do with it. His hand tightened around his drink, and Jay, standing beside him, noticed the subtle shift.

“You good?” Jay asked, giving Sunghoon a side glance, confused by the way his friend seemed both intrigued and irritated.

Sunghoon didn’t respond at first, his gaze still locked on Jake and you. His jaw clenched slightly, and for the first time, Jay wondered if there was something more going on in Sunghoon’s head. It was a weird mix of jealousy and something else he couldn’t quite place. Sunghoon didn’t say anything—he just sipped his drink, eyes never leaving the couple.

Meanwhile, Jake, completely oblivious to the silent observer, was enjoying the kiss, the quiet power of the moment. He knew Sunghoon was watching, could feel his presence from the corner of his eye, but he didn’t care. If anything, it made the kiss feel even more thrilling, knowing that someone else—someone who hated him—was helpless to look away.

And when the kiss finally broke, you were both left breathless, eyes locked. The distance between you two had disappeared, and it wasn’t just a physical space. Something else had shifted, something far deeper.

“So,” Jake said, voice husky as he leaned his forehead against yours, “What now, princess?”

You smirked, already feeling the spark between you two. "Guess we wait and see."

But neither of you could deny that the game had just begun.

prev | masterlist | next

author's note: I ADDED AN EASTER EGG YES I INSERTED MYSELF I DONT FUCKING CARE I WANTED TO BE INVOLVED AND NOW IM HEESEUNG'S SITUATIONSHIP THANK YOU. and sunghoon's voyeurish. i wish you all a jubilant evening

taglist: @jayparked @jungwonsstrawberriesnchocolate @kixri @soobnuuy @dreamiestay @somuchdard @nyyoryyu @atinyrosedoor @enhaverse713586 @miszes @wildtigerlili @hoonkishoe @wilonevys @m1dn1ghtv1olet @who-tf-soddhi @ilovewonyo @nickiminajleftasscheek @ikeulove @payformycoffeeandleave @jvngw0nlvr @qtke @nikirangs @rairaiblog @tinyteezer @catecita @aespaqq @cyberstephzz @jakesimfromstatefarm @maniluvzyou @stormy1408 @missychief1404 @heevrs @shuichi-sama @enhastars @immelissaaa @pjselee @hexnoia @strawberrieswithchocolateo3o @love-4-keum @doublebunv @minfolio @1-itsneverthatserious-1 @sumzysworld @doveblackboat @psychotic-girl-666 @kukkurookkoo @allie-mcginn @jkslvsnella @winterearls @why4anne @jakesfurry @steddie-steddie @elegancefr

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incloudcity · 1 month ago

Note

could you do will smith x tennis! girlfriend like the US open or something? 😚

unforced error | ws2

requests are open

You find out an hour before the final.

A friend from your academy days — the kind who doesn’t send drama unless it matters — texts you with no warning, just screenshots.

“Thought you should see this. I’m so sorry.”

It’s a string of Instagram stories from a private account. The girl tagged Will in three different clips from a party in SoHo. One: him next to her in a booth. Two: a short video — blurry but unmistakable — of her filming while he’s leaning in close, talking near her ear. Her caption: “Not just good on the ice 😉 #number1draftpick.”

Then the final blow: a mirror selfie in what looks like a hotel room. His hoodie in the background. His duffel bag unmistakable. The caption is just a pink heart.

Your throat closes.

You zoom in. Rewatch. Try to find something — anything — that makes it okay. Maybe he was caught off-guard. Maybe she followed him. But it looks bad. It feels worse.

You don’t even realize your grip on your phone is shaking until your agent walks in.

“You’re on in forty,” they say gently.

You nod. But you don’t look up.

You lose the first set 6–2.

Commentators say nerves. Pressure. Maybe fatigue.

Only you know that your vision blurred on every second serve. That you spent most of the set wondering who he was with last night. Whether he lied. Whether he’s already gone.

But you’re too much of a fighter to let that be your story.

You claw your way back in the second set. Play smarter. Clean up your errors. Every time the ache in your chest rises, you smack it back down with a blistering forehand. And by the time the third set starts, you remember who you are.

You win it in a tiebreak.

The crowd explodes.

You raise your racquet like a machine, not like a woman who just became a US Open champion.

No joy. No roar. No tears.

Because all you can think is: He probably wasn’t even in the stands.

Back in your hotel suite, you're surrounded by noise: congratulations, cameras, post-match treatment. Everyone’s trying to get champagne into your hand. But the only thing you say is:

“Don’t let Will in.”

Your assistant stops. “He’s already here. Downstairs.”

“Then keep him there.”

You don’t want explanations. Not tonight. You don’t want to be gaslit. Or comforted. Or told that maybe it wasn’t what it looked like.

You just want silence.

It’s almost 1 a.m. when the knock comes again.

You think it’s room service — but when you crack the door, it’s him.

Will looks like hell.

Eyes bloodshot. Hoodie half-zipped. One hand clutching his phone like a lifeline.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just stares at you like he’s not sure you’ll even let him speak.

“I didn’t do it,” he says, voice already breaking. “I swear to God, I didn’t touch her.”

You say nothing.

He steps closer, slow, careful — like you’re the one who might shatter.

“She came to the party with someone on the team. She kept tagging me in her stories — I didn’t even see them until they were already viral. And the hotel picture — she followed me into the lobby and took it while I was leaving. I didn’t even know she got that shot.”

Still, you say nothing. Your arms stay crossed. Your body is a wall.

“She wanted a story,” he pleads. “And I gave her one by accident. But I didn’t cheat. I didn’t lie to you. I swear”

You finally whisper, “Maybe you didn’t cheat. But I still played the biggest match of my life thinking you did. I don’t need this Will.”

You don’t try to hide the bitterness in your tone. Your message is clear, you don’t need him.

His eyes go glassy. Like that truth alone wrecked him more than anything.

“I know,” he says hoarsely. “And that’s what’s killing me.”

He breaks.

“I thought I was gonna lose my fucking mind today. Knowing you were out there — carrying that weight — while I couldn’t do anything. I should’ve caught it sooner. Should’ve shut it down before it even touched you.”

You look away.

“I would never cheat on you,” he says again, louder this time. “Never. You are the only thing in my life that isn’t chaos. That isn’t noise. You’re the part of me that’s real.”

His voice cracks. His hands tremble.

“I love you so much it scares me. And if you don’t look at me the same anymore—if I ruined it—then I don’t know how to come back from that.”

You turn toward him slowly. “You could’ve told me.”

“I didn’t even know until after you were on court,” he chokes out. “My phone was off. I was so focused on you, your match— and then by the time I knew it was too late. I thought giving you space afterwards was protecting you. But I let you think the worst, and that’s on me. All of it’s on me.”

He steps forward. “Please. Don’t shut me out. Don’t let this be the thing that breaks us.”

There’s silence.

Then you take one step. And another. Until you’re pressed against him, arms around his waist, and he folds into you like he’s home again.

He breathes your name like a prayer.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, again and again into your hair. “You’re mine, and I’m yours, and I’m never fucking risking that again.”

This time, you don’t stop the tears.

And neither does he.

#nhl x reader #will smith x reader #will smith hockey #will smith imagine #will smith nhl #will smith fic #will smith angst

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14dayswithyou · 1 year ago

Text

💖 Day 3.5 is now available! 💖

For the last couple of months, only Server Boosters had access to the 3.5 update... Buuuuut now it's available for everyone to play in the 14DWY Discord — and soon itch.io once I'm happy with the QA and state of the game — so please don't feel pressured to join unless you want to!!

The full devlog + even more screenshots are under the cut ^^

What's been added to the 3.5 version?

📺 Streamer Mode!

I've been told that it's difficult to stream and monetise age-restricted videos on YouTube and Twitch, so I added an option to remove the sexual content and strong language used in the demo.

Now y'all can invite Ren into your bed for cuddles without putting your streamer career on the line /silly /lh

This won't affect the 18+ rating or dark themes/elements of the game, however! Although Streamer Mode will prevent you from seeing any "gruesome" CGs in the future, most of the core elements of the game will still be tied to the choices and decisions you make. So you won't miss out on the overall experience by using streamer mode!!

⚙️ Custom Pronouns!

It only took me one entire year to get around to it, but you can finally choose your own preferred pronouns (or use a set of pronouns instead)... At the cost of being able to change them mid-game ^^;

Since the original pronoun screen wouldn't update until a new scene was displayed, I temporarily disabled the feature. But once I find a workaround, I'll bring it back!

💗 Choose how others perceive you!

You can now choose how the cast and narration perceive you! Originally, the narration was kept strictly gender-neutral (outside of pronouns and genitalia picked by the player), but this will soon change in future updates.

For more clarity: you don't get to choose the words specifically, but you can choose between masculine, feminine, and androgynous terms!

📋 Separate top and bottom genitalia!

You can now choose your tatas and pps separately! >:3

Alongside that, you can also choose your preferred body type!

I removed the "both" genitalia option because a few players still assumed it was an obscure version of "intersex". That wasn't my intention and I don't want to mislead anyone, so I took it out for now ^^;

I also didn't want to include a screenshot of the new genitalia choices in action (because it's NSFW), so y'all get the same character menu screen for the nth time instead lmao

📱 Relationship Screen Overhaul!

You can now change your own status for more immersion, and long-term Server Boosters will eventually be able to submit and use their own icon within the game as well!

Stalking finding your friends has now become easier by using "Buddy Maps"; a new app that allows you to see the location of all the cast members!

I want to offer players more incentive to check the relationship screen since they tend to miss the status updates, so hopefully this might help ;v;

It also says it "updates every few hours" so folks don't go overboard and check every 5 seconds to see where Ren is gdsghf (also keep in mind that he's a hacker lol)

🖤 Additional Scenes Update!

Day 2 received a brand new CG!!!!! Originally, I planned on only adding a few CGs sporadically throughout the game, but it didn't feel right to leave Day 2 so... empty... so I added a brand new CG to (hopefully) make things feel more balanced and natural!

If you decline Teo's offer on Day 3, Leon will now call and try to convince you to reconsider. However, players are still allowed to decline, and if they do, they'll reach a dead end.

After listening to feedback on itch, I changed some of the dialogue during Days 1-3 to make it seem more consistent! They're only small changes though, so it's honestly not worth looking for sdgjssga

🎶 Updated BGM and SFX!

I wanted to try out a different style of music to see if it fits the vibe of 14DWY more! The BGM features more acoustics to suit the "beachy" theme of Corland Bay, though I made a conscious effort to include piano elements as well to stay true to the original!!

I figured it'd be better to give players a live example before I make a poll (to see if they prefer the change or not) and publish it to Itch.

Some new SFX have also been added, though it's very minimal and honestly not that noticeable.

How to download and play the update?

(warning: clicking on the following links will open Discord!!) To download the Day 3.5 update, simply join the 14DWY Discord server, verify your age, and visit the "14dwy-updates" channel!

Alternatively, you can also wait until the update is publicly released on Itch to play it as well!! (It normally gets released shortly after a round of QA testing/getting feedback from the server, though I may release it earlier if I feel like it hehe ^^)

Enjoy!!

#14 days with you #14dwy #💖 — 14 days with queue.#🖤 — updates.#🖤 — spoilers.#I'm not gonna say much about my current doxxing situation because I've got it under control now + it's being handled privately #Plus I don't wanna give it/the people involved any unnecessary attention. I just wanna announce the update and Get Back To It™️#(''it'' bein the grind 💪 It never stops lmao /silly)#OG followers will also know that these topics aren't the vibe I normally have on this blog (or any of my accounts); so I don't think I'll—#—make ANOTHER public post about the situation and bring more attention to it (when I just want everything to be over and put to rest ^^;)#However I also don't want people to think that I'm... ignoring?? the situation entirely (because gettin doxxed is a very endangering thing)#So I DO want to quickly acknowledge it here and say that it's all currently handled + I'm safe and okay + this won't stop me from—#—continuing to work on 14DWY (and other future projects). I also don't want to give these awful people more power and incentive to continue #—this kind of pathetic behaviour; so the less attention and encouragement being shown will ultimately be better in the long run :3 #Aaaaaanways!! 😮‍💨#My other accounts will be restored shortly and my askbox will be opened once I feel comfortable. I'll get around to following folks—#—again in my own time; so please don't feel offended if I unfollowed you during a moment of vulnerability and anxiety!!#This is all EXTREMELY overwhelming and scary for someone with SAD/AvPD; and I /gen can't handle seeing it all over my timeline ;v;#Sorry this got ranty and personal again hjdsgjsdh T_T I said I wouldn't say much; so I'll shut up now hehe #🖤 — shut up sai.

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psformybss · 4 months ago

Text

Paws and Promises

series masterlist

pairing: drew starkey x secret fiancee!reader

warnings: fluff, established relationship, soft domestic vibes, excessive cuteness

︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

The morning light filtered through the gauzy curtains of their Charleston kitchen, warm and golden, just like everything had felt since the move. It was quiet except for the soft hum of the coffee machine and the occasional creak of the wooden floor beneath Drew’s bare feet.

He handed Y/N her favorite mug, filled almost to the brim, just the way she liked it.

“Okay,” he said, voice still low and scratchy from sleep. “So… we officially own this house.”

Y/N turned from where she was scribbling in her planner at the kitchen island, her lips curling into a smile. “You make it sound like we just picked up groceries.”

“I mean, we did sign a mountain of papers and give away our souls, but yeah,” he said, sliding into the stool next to hers. “No big deal.”

She laughed, nudging his knee with hers under the counter. “I’m just excited we don’t have to sign anything else. It’s ours. For real.”

Drew smiled at her, soft and slow. “It already felt like home with you in it.”

She leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. “Cheesy.”

“True,” he countered.

They sat in the quiet for a moment, sipping coffee and watching the soft light spill across their new countertops. Their moving boxes were half-unpacked in the next room, and the faint scent of fresh paint still lingered from the weekend project Drew had insisted on finishing before he had to be back on set.

Y/N glanced at him over the rim of her mug. “So, I was thinking…”

Drew raised an eyebrow. “That’s usually dangerous.”

“Rude.” She tried to hide her smile, failing miserably. “You remember what you promised me?”

His expression shifted into something teasing. “If this is about the backyard hammock, I said eventually—”

She groaned and stood and slid into his lap. “No, smartass. I’m talking about this promise.” She pulled out her phone and tapped to show him a screenshot. It was a golden retriever puppy from the shelter’s Instagram page, floppy ears and big brown eyes melting into the camera.

Drew tilted his head. “You bookmarked it?”

“I’ve had a folder of dogs for the last year, don’t act surprised.”

He stared at the photo, then looked up at her. “You wanna go today?”

Y/N blinked. “Wait… really?”

Drew smiled at how her entire face lit up. “We’ve got the house. I’ve got the day off. Let’s go meet him.”

The drive to the shelter was a mix of excited chatter and soft music playing through the speakers. Y/N read the details from the puppy’s post—male, golden retriever, about nine weeks old, and sweet as can be.

“He’s got a little heart-shaped patch on his nose,” she added, showing Drew the zoomed-in photo again.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” he muttered, shaking his head—but he was smiling the whole time.

When they arrived, the woman at the front desk greeted them with a warm smile. “You’re here about the golden retriever, right?”

“Yeah,” Y/N nodded eagerly. “We just bought a house and… well, it felt like time.”

The woman smiled knowingly. “He’s been a favorite around here. Come on—he’s in the back.”

The second they stepped into the room, Drew heard it: the tiny thump-thump of paws against the tile and a soft yip. The puppy was already at the edge of the enclosure, tail wagging like crazy, as if he knew.

“Oh my God,” Y/N whispered, clutching Drew’s arm. “He’s so much cuter in person.”

Drew crouched beside the gate and opened it slowly. The puppy made a beeline for him, stumbling over his own feet before crashing into Drew’s lap with an excited squeak.

“He picked you,” Y/N said softly, dropping down next to them.

The puppy licked Drew’s chin before collapsing dramatically onto his back, inviting belly rubs. Drew laughed, rubbing the soft golden fluff. “I think we’re done looking.”

“Alright,” the shelter employee said with a warm smile, setting the final adoption form on the desk. “Sign right there, and Teddy is officially yours.”

Y/N squeezed Drew’s hand under the table, her grin wide and glowing as she picked up the pen.

“We’re doing it,” she whispered, practically bouncing in her seat.

Drew smiled down at her, watching as she signed her name with a little heart at the end. He leaned in as she passed the pen to him.

“Should I draw a paw print instead of my signature?” he joked.

“Please don’t get us flagged by the shelter,” she laughed.

He signed quickly, and when the employee clapped her hands together and slid them a folder of Teddy’s vet records, Y/N let out a quiet gasp of joy.

“Congratulations!” the woman said. “Teddy’s all yours. We’ll grab his blanket and favorite toy for you.”

Teddy was currently passed out in Drew’s lap, paws twitching like he was already dreaming. Drew looked down at him, gently smoothing a hand over the soft golden fur. “You’re coming home, little dude.”

Y/N was already mentally organizing the next part of the plan. “Okay, we need food, a bed, a crate, toys—oh my god, so many toys—a collar, leash, bowls—”

“Should we just bring the whole shelter with us?” Drew asked dryly.

She shot him a look. “You promised me a dog. That promise included spoiling him.”

The pet store was a sensory overload—colorful squeaky toys, endless aisles of food, and several other people with their own dogs in tow. Y/N was a woman on a mission, pushing the cart like she was on Supermarket Sweep.

Drew followed behind her, holding Teddy (who had been carried in like royalty), one brow arched as he watched her toss item after item into the cart.

“Babe,” he said, lifting a rope toy with a giant giraffe head attached to it, “does he need a jungle-themed tug-of-war set?”

“Yes,” she said without missing a beat. “That’s the cutest one.”

Drew looked into the cart. “He’s got five toys already.”

“He’s a baby, Drew. He’s going to get bored.”

“Baby, you got him the plush lobster, the squeaky donut, a set of tennis balls, and a talking monkey.”

“He likes options!”

Drew tried to keep a straight face but failed. She was too cute when she got like this—eyebrows raised, lips pursed in determination, completely serious about spoiling their new puppy like he was royalty.

She turned to him with a bright pink food bowl that said “Goodest Boy” in glittery letters.

He blinked. “You’re not serious.”

“It matches his vibe.”

“His vibe?”

She held it up next to Teddy’s face. “Tell me he doesn’t look like a goodest boy.”

Teddy yawned in Drew’s arms and let his tongue flop out.

“…Damn it,” Drew muttered. “He kinda does.”

By the time they got to the checkout line, the cart was full. Not just full—overflowing. Y/N had added a fluffy dog bed, two kinds of treats (“He needs to sample!”), grooming supplies, puppy training pads, and a little raincoat that had paw prints on the hood.

“I blacked out a little,” she admitted, biting her lip as she glanced at the total on the screen.

Drew laughed, handing over his card. “It’s fine. We’ll just cancel Netflix and live off peanut butter for a while.”

“I bought peanut butter for Teddy, too,” she added innocently.

He gave her a long look, then glanced down at the puppy curled up in his arms.

Teddy sneezed softly and blinked up at him with those big brown eyes.

“…Okay. He’s worth it.”

“Told you!”

By the time they pulled back into the driveway, the sun was dipping low behind the trees, casting long shadows over the porch. Teddy nestled in the back seat, yawning every few seconds.

Y/N carried him inside, whispering softly as she showed him around. “This is your new home, Teddy. Living room’s over there, kitchen’s full of treats, and that blanket? Yeah, it’s yours now.”

Drew stood by the door, watching them. The sight of Y/N holding the tiny dog, beaming with a mix of wonder and contentment, tugged at something deep in his chest.

“I think you love him more than you love me,” he teased.

She looked up. “It’s a close call.”

Teddy made a soft snuffling sound, curling up on the blanket they laid out for him. Y/N dropped onto the floor beside him, tucking her legs under herself as Drew sat behind her and pulled her into his lap.

“You’re really happy,” he said quietly.

“I really am,” she replied. “This house. This little family. It’s everything I didn’t even know I wanted.”

Drew pressed a kiss to her temple. “Same here.”

They sat there for a while—no cameras, no scripts, no set calls. Just them. Just home.

And Teddy, their golden boy, snoring softly beside them.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

an:

i love them so much 🥲

also i have one draft left and im lowkey out of ideas so if anyone has any plssss send in a request.

#drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x you #drew starkey x secret fiancee!reader #drew starkey x oc #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey obx #obx #rafe cameron x oc #drew starkey #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #outerbanks rafe

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everywherestrs · 2 months ago

Text

You make your ingame character look like him. Pt. 2

Sylus

You had just stepped through the threshold of Onychinus's base and were ready to collapse to your knees from exhaustion. Somehow, you managed to summon the last bits of strength and make it to the bedroom where you immediately sprawled across the bed, utterly drained.

This week had been nothing short of hellish, judging by how overloaded you were. Though, to be fair, you had only yourself to blame. You’d willingly stayed later than others, taken on extra tasks—all for the promise of a slightly larger paycheck at the end of the month.

The reason? Your latest obsession: a new video game. Or more specifically, a limited-edition weapon pack. Not that you really needed it for gameplay, but it would look absolutely perfect on your avatar.

Why torture yourself like that when you had a rich and loving boyfriend for whom a small in-game donation wouldn’t even register as a blip on his bank statement? Because that avatar was exactly the reason you didn’t dare mention the game to Sylus.

It had started innocently. You were bored, saw a post online of someone playing it, and curiosity got the better of you. You downloaded the game, made an avatar resembling yourself, and played for a few hours. But later that day, you had plans with Sylus.

Naturally, Sylus wouldn’t be Sylus if he didn’t spend the entire evening teasing you endlessly.

You weren’t sure what came over you when you got home, but before you realized it, you had picked up your phone, created a second avatar with silver hair and red eyes, and launched him off the highest cliff you could find in the game.

Strangely enough... It was oddly satisfying.

And that’s how it began. Any time Sylus teased you a little too much or you had a minor argument, you’d whip out your phone, switch to your second avatar, and kill him in increasingly creative ways.

Originally, Mini-Sylus was supposed to be a rare sight on your account. Brief, silly. But before you knew it, you found yourself switching to him even for simple missions. Your original avatar was starting to collect dust while his was showered in accessories, outfits, and a camera roll filled with that little arrogant, smirking face.

You’d sworn to yourself you’d never tell Sylus what you were up to. Because you knew exactly how he’d respond: “Oh? One of me wasn’t enough, kitten, so you made a pocket-sized version?”

Just the thought of him saying that, with his signature smirk, made a shiver run down your spine.

Now, you were lying on your stomach, booting up the game. And right on cue, that too-familiar face greeted you on the loading screen.

—…This is all your fault.

You mumbled under your breath, but still tapped open the shop, your eyes locked on the exact amount of crystals you needed for that crimson revolver.

Once the payment went through, you pulled the weapon banner—and soon, your screen gleamed with the image of the prize you’d been chasing. You equipped it immediately, took a few fresh screenshots, then finally set your phone down and sighed. The adrenaline high of getting the wanted weapon was wearing off, and the exhaustion of the week was pressing down harder than ever.

You didn’t even notice when you dozed off—your phone still lit up, the game still running.

The first thing you noticed was a faint, familiar set of beeps. At first, you ignored them, turning over. But the beeps grew louder, and your eyes slowly fluttered open.

The scene in front of you: Sylus sitting at your bedside. With your phone in his hands. With the game open.

You had never sat up that fast in your life.

You lunged forward in a panic, trying to grab the phone, but Sylus, almost like he sensed it coming, pulled it out of your reach.

—Sylus!

He let out a soft chuckle.

—What is it, kitten? I was just curious what ‘Little Forest’ was… after I got a message about you spending $150 on it.

You froze. Your brain blanked for a second as you processed his words.

Then it hit you. Your face went pale.

You’d forgotten to change the payment method.

Weeks ago, you had jokingly asked Sylus if you could order some cute cat stickers to plaster all over his motorcycle. Of course, he said you could do whatever you wanted. At the time, you were already eyeing that revolver pack, so you’d entered his card info and said, “Well, technically I’m buying it for your bike, so you should pay.”

And apparently… you forgot to delete the card. Your phone had saved the details.

Now you sat frozen in place while Sylus clearly tried (and failed) to contain his amusement. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he returned his gaze to your screen, to the character on it.

—Honestly? I’m flattered. You paid such close attention to the details. You even gave him his own crow companion.

Your face heated up instantly with embarrassment. You cursed your past self for immediately thinking of Mephisto when you saw that crow accessory in the shop.

—But there’s one thing I don’t get…

He continued, turning to you and slowly leaning closer.

You instinctively began to retreat until your back hit the headboard. Sylus trapped you there with one hand on the bed beside your head and brought the phone up to your face with the other. He leaned in, voice a whisper against your ear.

—Why am I wearing cat ears and a tail?

Yeah.

It was going to be a very long night.

And now, until the servers shut down—or you finally delete the game—you’ll be haunted by this shameful memory forever.

Caleb

You hadn’t even realized how much of your free time had been swallowed up by it.

That video game.

A game you thought you’d play for a few days at most—something casual, something to pass the time. And yet, here you were now, logging in every day without fail, claiming your rewards and completing your daily commissions with religious discipline.

Whenever you were sent on extended missions, you always knew you could rely on your friends, Tara or Simon, to help cover for you.

Only this time… there was a problem.

You were currently standing in the airport with both of them, preparing to board a flight. The three of you were being deployed for a field assignment, and as per protocol, you had to turn in your civilian phones.

That’s when the realization hit you.

“Who’s going to claim my rewards?!”

You started to panic, frantically cycling through options in your head. And then, like a divine light, one name came to you.

Without hesitation, you opened your chat with him and quickly typed a message:

“Caleb!”

“Help!”

“What is it, pipsqueak?”

“Something bad happened?”

“It might happen soon!!”

“I’ll be gone for a while, can you please log into a game and play a little for me?”

The typing bubble appeared… then disappeared.

Your nerves were fraying fast—the boarding line was getting shorter, and your chance to explain everything was slipping away.

Then finally, the notification came.

“Okay, pipsqueak :)”

You exhaled in relief, a grateful smile forming on your face as you quickly sent him your login details.

The rest of your time was a whirlwind of work. Long hours, constant movement. But by the end of the mission, you were finally allowed to use your phone again.

Your first instinct was to send Caleb a quick message letting him know you’d be back soon.

To your surprise, he suggested that instead of heading straight back to Linkon City, you visit him in Skyhaven for a few days by that time he will have time off. You agreed without a second thought.

Every day after that, you looked forward to the reunion with increasing anticipation.

As you waited for your luggage, you messaged Caleb:

“I landed.”

“I’m waiting for my luggage and then driving straight to you.”

The reply came almost instantly.

“That’s great. Can’t wait to meet you!”

[Image Attached]

You smiled, warmth blooming in your chest—until your eyes dropped to the photo.

It was a screenshot from your game.

Your avatar stood proudly on-screen, and behind them, spelled out in colorful flowers, were the words:

“I missed you”

But that wasn’t what made your smile falter and your stomach drop.

The avatar… looked exactly like the person who had been “taking care” of it the past few days.

You stared at the screen in disbelief, not knowing whether to laugh or run.

Just then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw your suitcase come down the carousel. You grabbed it, suddenly unsure if you even wanted to go to Caleb’s… or if you should just book the next flight back to Linkon City.

But the choice was taken out of your hands when your phone buzzed again.

Another photo.

This time it was a close-up of your avatar’s face.

And behind it, spelled in flowers:

“Are you coming soon?”

You paid the taxi and dragged yourself—along with your bags—to the front door of Caleb’s house.

Each step felt heavier than the last. His voice already echoed in your head, teasing and smug.

You entered the code and stepped inside, locking the door behind you.

Footsteps approached and soon, the tall silhouette of Caleb appeared in front of you.

—Welcome back. I hope your mission went without a hitch.

—Yeah… everything went fine…

You replied a bit uncertainly. You braced yourself for the inevitable teasing. You even had a few comeback jokes ready to fire back.

But none came.

Instead, Caleb casually asked if you were hungry. You said yes and he led you to the kitchen, and soon, the two of you were quietly enjoying lunch together.

You slowly began to let your guard down, thinking maybe—just maybe—he hadn’t noticed the resemblance between your in-game character and himself.

That illusion shattered with one sentence.

—You know, while I was playing that game, I got pretty into it.

You nearly choked on your food.

Still, you tried to play it cool. But before you could respond, he continued:

—I also noticed you didn’t have any friends added…

—Oh, yeah! Tara and Simon don’t like these type of games.

—Mhm. So I figured… Maybe I should make an account too. That way, your little guy wouldn’t be lonely.

You felt as if your heart stopped beating as Caleb pulled out his phone and launched the game.

When he turned the screen to face you—

You froze.

There, on his screen, was a tiny version of you—wearing an adorable yellow dress.

—Big Caleb has you, so little Caleb should have his own little you.

He said it with a smirk, his eyes never leaving your face as he soaked in your mortified expression.

Pt.1

@raendarkfaerie

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hxiiraeth · 3 months ago

Text

❝Fool for you❞ — M!Rover x Reader

(is it criminal to use this specific screenshot of him? probably.)

It was harmless at first, just an ordinary conversation shared between two friends beneath the soft orange glow of the setting sun. The view was spectacular from up the hill, with the two of you lingering a little too long after finishing a job together, neither wanting to break the fragile peace the evening had to offer.

You laughed at something he said, head ducking instinctively as a familiar warmth rose to your cheeks. His voice, steady and low, had a way of curling around you, making the world softer, quieter. You felt a familiar ache settling in your chest, one that you'd been trying to ignore for quite a while now since it's made its first appearance — the first time you'd realized you were falling for the man in front of you. It made you feel foolish, like a lovestruck fool, catching feelings for a man whose gaze could undo you so quickly.

And then.. you felt it. Warm fingertips brushing against your hair, tucking a stray lock behind your ear. His touch lingered, just for a second too long. The pad of his thumb ghosting along your cheekbone, his eyes never leaving yours. That gaze — so gentle and steady — like you were something worth looking at, the only thing worth his gaze in the world.

"Your hair was in your eyes," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper as he pulled his hand away.

You felt it then — the remnants of his touch searing into your skin, the warmth pooling in your stomach as your heart hammered against your ribcage. He offered you a small smile, and you managed a shy, breathless one in return.

When he walked you home and left, you stood at your doorstep for a while, fingers caressing the spot where he'd touched you. The air still seemed thick with him — his scent, his warmth and the echo of his presence were clinging to you like a memory you weren't ready to let go of. And gods, you were feeling like a fool for the way that your heart skipped at every stolen glance, for the way his closeness made your pulse race and how you'd be caught smiling at nothing, just remembering the way he looked at you as if you mattered.

Sleep didn't come easy that night. Woken up by the memories of him, haunted by the ghost of his touch. Every time you close your eyes, you see him and the way his hand holds yours — firm, steady, protective. The way his voice softened when he spoke your name.

You were falling, and you didn't even know when it started. It was too late for you to run away, to back out now. You were a fool for him, hopelessly and helplessly, and you didn't mind one bit. Albeit it being a little overwhelming and scary.

...

Rover wasn't oblivious, no. He's noticed the way your laughter lingered a little longer around him, the way your eyes darted away when he caught you staring, and the way you shivered, not from the cold, but from his touch on your skin.

He wasn't proud of the way he reached out for you without reason — a hand steadying you by your elbow when the ground is uneven, his palm warm against yours as you move through the crowded streets, and tucking a stray strand of hair that got in your eyes (simply to admire you a little longer). He can lie to himself, saying that it was on instinct, a reflex, habit even, but it wasn't. He knew it goes deeper than that.

He saw the way your lashes fluttered, how your cheeks would flush so prettily over something so simple, how your breath would hitch when he gets even a step closer, a touch on your skin.

When he had left you by your doorstep, he couldn't help but turn around to have one last look at you for the night, until he caught you still standing there with your head down, fingers brushing your own cheek as if you were chasing the memory of his touch.

He found himself lying awake at night, tracing the phantom memory of your hand in his, wondering if you could feel it too. And it hit him.

He's watched the way you'd been absentmindedly tucking your hair behind your ear in the same motion he'd used on you before. Seeing the faint gesture made his chest ache in a way that startled him.

And he realized. It's you. It's always been you — the reason his world felt a little less heavy, the reason he felt that restless ache in his chest whenever you looked at him like he'd hung the stars, like you didn't quite know what to do with yourself, like you were feeling something.

He smiled then — soft, pained too as he realized how much of a fool he was becoming.

A fool for the way you made him feel like something gentle in a world that had long since stopped being kind. For every time he made excuses just to be near you, for the way your smile always made his heart stutter and the familiar warmth creeping up his cheeks.

And when your eyes met his across the room with that shy smile of yours like you were afraid of your own heart — he knew. He was already yours.

#wuthering waves x reader #rover x reader #wuthering waves #wuwa rover #wuwa x reader #rover x you #male rover

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stagtorccio · 22 days ago

Text

please be rude

lottie matthews x gp!reader

request: x summary: Lottie's been off since the crash. You've got a running theory as to what's making her act out. rating: explicit, 18+ warnings: implied established relationship, porn with feelings, penetrative sex, girl penis reader (thanks anons), brat lottie renaissance, probably unsafe sex but it's fictional, (brief) fingering word count: 3.2k author's note: i know i know i know the header image is a season 3 screenshot but this takes place in season 1. in my head. please keep that in yours for maximum enjoyment <3

[AO3]

𓃢𓃦𐂂 ── .✦

You’re fairly certain Lottie Matthews has never gone untended for very long in her life. Not really, anyway.

Never a bruise left without a bandage. Never a craving unanswered, never a cut left to scab. Even now, stranded and filthy and mosquito-bitten, hair tangled as hell and half-starved most days like the rest of you, she carries herself like someone will look after her, sooner or later.

Your hypothesis, your grand theory, is that this is why she’s been such a fucking asshole lately.

Sulking around the cabin. Picking fights that don’t need picking. Taking your things and then daring you to make her give them back, and when you do, she just laughs, utterly pleased with herself.

At first, you’d chalked it up to stress. Called it cabin fever, as morbidly on-the-nose as it was. But the last time she teased you in front of everyone, she bit her lip the second you snapped back.

It clicked then, sort of like kindling catching. That for some reason, she wants you angry. Wants your attention and doesn’t care how she gets it.

Today, it’s while you’re hauling water from the lake, arms slick with sweat, jaw tight from a full morning of silent effort. Van's helping you boil it in a dinky pot that never stays level, and Lottie—

Well, Lottie isn’t being very helpful at all.

She’s leaning on a stump nearby, legs crossed at the knee. When you mutter something about needing more hands and fewer onlookers, you hear the faintest scoff. You think you feel your eye twitch— which you thought, up until now, only happened in Saturday morning cartoons.

“Careful, you’re spilling,” Lottie comments, mostly innocuous, but it irks you regardless.

“Maybe because I could use some help,” you snark back, setting the bucket down a little too forcefully. It sloshes onto your shoe like some sort of karmic deliverance.

She does move to help you, eventually. With the same kind of theatrical sigh someone might use when they’re asked to actually do the thing they were trying to avoid. She crouches beside you, scoops up the handle of the next water bucket with a little more attitude than necessary.

The two of you walk in silence for a while.

The path down to the lake is worn now, familiar. Mud sun-hardened, branches cleared by the group’s repetition. Your boots crunch over dry pine needles and damp leaves, and behind you, you can hear Lottie’s steps following in sync.

She keeps bumping into you, shoulder brushing yours, like she can’t quite figure out how much space she wants. She doesn’t apologize. You try not to snap.

The trees part near the bottom of the hill, and the lake stretches out in front of you, glassy and still in the midday heat, rimmed with cattails and buzzing crowds of mosquitoes.

You set the buckets down by the shore and roll up your sleeves. Lottie crouches nearby and watches you for a moment, arms looped loosely around her knees.

You feel her eyes flick toward you, then away, then back again.

Something in her still isn’t sitting right.

You glance over at her. The sunlight’s catching on her cheekbones, her collarbone, the sharp line of her shoulders under her tank top. Her mouth is set in that same stubborn pout it always falls into when she’s trying not to say something.

You want to ask what’s really going on. But you don’t.

You just get up with your full bucket and start walking. Lottie follows suit. The trek back to the cabin is filled with more of that tense, sticky, unbearable silence. By the time you make it there, sweat is beading at your temples and the tension feels so tightly wound you’re sure one of you will explode soon.

And then it happens. Lottie fumbles her bucket just as you both reach the fire, water surging toward the rim like it’s ready to escape and drench poor, unsuspecting Mari.

“Careful—” you gasp, hand flying out to steady it instinctively.

“I know,” she snaps, jerking it upright before you reach it.

You both freeze.

She sets the bucket down and backs away from it like it might bite her. You watch her jaw work, her breath come faster. She scrubs a hand down her face, agitated, then across the back of her neck like she can’t shake off the heat or the frustration or both.

“You okay?” you ask, tentative.

Lottie lets out a breath. “Fine. It’s fine.”

Her voice is brittle and fast. The kind of fine that’s meant to shut you up. The kind that means the exact opposite of fine.

You study her now. The stiff set of her shoulders, the way she won’t quite meet your eyes. Lottie, who never really hides anything, not well. Not from you.

You reach out. “C’mere,” you murmur, gesturing in some vague direction– anywhere away.

She lifts her head, wary. “Why?”

You keep your voice low, eyes cutting to the rest of the girls, but they seem preoccupied.

“Because I want to actually talk about this.”

Lottie hesitates. Long enough to pretend like she might say no.

Then, she mutters a resigned, “Fine.”

It’s a small victory.

You take her deeper into the woods. Not far. Just out of sight of the others. Where the air is cooler, the sunlight slants differently, and there’s the illusion of privacy, at the least.

Lottie leans against a tree, arms crossed. Still prickly. Still pretending this isn’t about anything in particular.

“Lottie,” you say softly.

“I’m alright,” she replies, but she doesn’t sound sure. She just sounds like she’s trying to convince you– or maybe convince herself.

“But you’re not.”

She huffs. But she doesn’t deny it. Her eyes flick up, then away.

Then, quietly, like a confession: “I don’t know. I’m… frustrated.”

You blink. “What do you mean?”

She exhales through her nose. “It’s like—" she starts, then falters. “Like my skin doesn’t fit right. Like something's too much. In here.”

She gently touches her fingers to her sternum, skimming the pads of them over the fabric of her top with a creased brow, as if she’s actualizing herself in real time.

“Everyone is… too close. And you—”

That catches you off guard. “Me?”

She licks her lips. Looks you dead in the eye, for once.

“You make it worse.”

You flinch. Just a little, because fucking ouch. But she’s already stepping forward, shaking her head.

“Not like that,” she murmurs. “You just— we never have any time alone anymore—”

She cuts herself off again, jaw flexing, and that’s when you notice it. The flush creeping up her throat. Spreading across her cheeks, blooming high on her ears. Like she can’t believe she just said that out loud. Like maybe it wasn’t supposed to come out like that.

Hypothesis proven, you suppose.

You let the silence hang just long enough for her to get nervous, fidgety. Then:

“Lottie Matthews,” you murmur, a smile tugging at your lips, “are you telling me you’ve been a jackass because this whole time, you wanted me alone?”

She looks away, but she doesn’t step back. “I didn’t say it like that...”

“No,” you agree, “you didn’t. You’re just terrible at asking for what you want.”

She swallows. “I know.”

You step into her space, close enough that your fingers brush the hem of her shirt, just light enough to tease.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, voice soft. “Maybe just… tell me next time?”

She looks at you like a deer in headlights, eyes huge, then grabs you by the collar and kisses you.

It’s teeth and salt and heat, the kind of kiss that feels like a devouring. Like she’s been wanting to do it for days– which she probably has.

There's a moment where she pulls back, as if stunned by her own want.

"Sorry, I just—"

You shake your head.

"Don't be."

And then your back hits the tree. Her hands are in your hair. Yours are gripping her waist, guiding her forward, chasing the friction–

She lets out a surprised breath. So do you, because you’re goddamn embarrassed. It wasn’t supposed to happen this fast. You’ve barely kissed her and your body has already decided to betray you.

Lottie stills. Just for a second. Then shifts away just enough to throw a purposeful glance down to the straining fabric of your shorts, voice catching on a laugh.

“Oh,” she says, delighted. “Really?”

You want to melt into the tree. “Shut up.”

She grins. “No, no, I mean—” She rolls her hips just slightly, just to feel it again, and a shiver crawls up your spine. “It’s cute.”

Your hands flex at her waist. “Don’t call it cute...”

“Then what?” she murmurs, pressing closer again, her voice dropping. Her mouth brushes your jaw now, lips warm and teasing. “... Hot?”

You groan. “Lottie.”

“Sorry,” she laughs, breathless, surprised at herself once more.

You kiss her again. Harder, this time. Your hands thread into her hair and tug just enough to make her gasp. Her own are under your shirt now, fingers skating along your ribs. You’re both panting, sweating, giggling between kisses.

You barely register the bark scraping your back, the dirt under you, the heat coiling low in your spine. All you feel is her. Her breath, her mouth, the soft drag of her body against yours as the rhythm builds.

She grinds down again, and this time, the sound you make is loud. Lottie exhales against your neck, half-laugh, half-gasp, and you can feel her smiling when she presses a kiss just beneath your jaw. Soft, warm, absolutely fucking maddening.

“Shit,” you whisper, “you’re— fuck.”

She hums, pleased, almost smug. But when she looks at you again, she’s flushed and bright-eyed, her lips kiss-bruised.

Her fingers go to your belt. You freeze for just a second, startled, but she doesn’t stop. Doesn’t say anything. She just starts to undo it, slow, almost shy. Fumbling, her hands shaking.

You grab her wrist. Not to stop her. Just to ground yourself. Her eyes flick up to meet yours. Waiting for you to tell her yes or no.

You nod. Barely. That’s all she needs.

The buckle slips free. The button pops open. She lets out a breath like she’s been holding it for hours. Her hands slip lower, toying with the waist of your boxers. She hesitates, then curls her fingers underneath, knuckles grazing your stomach as she drags the fabric down.

You bite your lip. Your hips lift, helping her, or maybe just needing her. And then you’re bare to the air, flushed and embarrassingly hard against her palm.

Lottie exhales through a grin, wide-eyed with something close to awe.

“God,” she murmurs, fingers curling loosely around you. Her voice is low, warm, like it’s a secret she’s thrilled to uncover. She gives you a gentle stroke and watches the way your mouth falls open.

You kiss her again, slower now, one hand skimming up under the back of her shirt, palm flattening against the warm curve of her spine. The other drifts down. Fingers brushing the band of her shorts. You tug at it once, a teasing little pull, then glance up at her, a wordless question.

She nods fast, maybe too fast, but you don’t move right away. You drag slow fingertips across her stomach, reveling in the way the muscles jump under your touch. When you slip your hand further down, brushing where she’s already wet, her whole body jolts forward. She buries her face in your shoulder to mask a noise suspiciously close to a whimper.

“Jesus,” you murmur, “you’ve been like this all day?”

She nods against your neck. “Could we just—”

“Yeah. We can.”

You hook your fingers in her shorts and ease them down over her thighs, her briefs coming with, damp and clinging, pulled past her knees in a rush. You're kissing her jaw as you go and she shudders, legs twitching when the air hits her.

You sit back just enough to look at her. Really look. Her cheeks are flushed deep, her lips kiss-swollen, her pupils so wide the brown of her eyes is almost gone.

“Don’t stare,” she murmurs, smiling even as she says it. “It’s embarrassing.”

“I’m not allowed to look?” you ask, grinning. “I thought you wanted my attention.”

That earns you a full-body blush. She laughs, breath hitching, and swats at your arm. You catch her hand and kiss her knuckles.

“Come here.”

You guide her gently down, easing her back onto the pine-needle-soft earth. She giggles as her elbow sinks into a patch of moss, adjusting herself with one leg cocked, already open for you without thinking. Her hair fans wild beneath her, and her hands flutter, unsure of where to go— your shoulders, your chest, your hips— like she’s wanting all of you at once.

Her thighs part further to welcome you in, and your bodies fit in that fumbling way, hot skin to hot skin, breath to breath. There’s a beat of quiet where you both just look at each other, pressed close, trembling, grinning like fools.

“Okay,” Lottie breathes after a moment, a smile still curling her lips. “You can— if you want to, I mean. I’m ready.”

You nudge your nose against hers. “Yeah?”

She nods. “Yeah.”

So you press into her slowly. Carefully. The world narrows to the sound of her breath catching, her thighs tightening around you, her mouth falling open in a gasp. And when her eyes find yours again, wide and wet, you feel her everywhere.

You still, giving her a moment, your forehead pressed to hers. Her breath fans across your lips, fast and shallow. Her eyes flutter shut, then open again like she doesn’t want to miss a damn second of this.

“You okay?” you whisper.

She nods. “Yeah,” she breathes. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

You shift a little deeper and she exhales like the air got knocked out of her. That sound’s going to haunt you for a few days, surely.

Her back arches just slightly, hips tilting to meet you. It’s messy, ungraceful, bodies slick with sweat and effort. But it works. By God, does it work. Your skin sticks where it touches hers: the inside of her knee brushing your waist, the curve of her calf against the back of your thigh. Her hands slide down your back, nails dragging lightly, coaxing out shivers.

Each movement is tentative at first. Then again. And again. Until it isn’t so shy anymore.

Lottie moans low in her throat– startled first, then thrilled. Her laughter catches somewhere inside it, and she hides her face in your neck.

“You feel so—” she starts, then gives up on words altogether. Just breathes and moves.

You match her pace, slow and careful, but the friction’s maddening. Every shift drives a little more sound from her. Every grind of hips has you biting your lip. Your hand slips between you and you find her clit with your thumb, slick and swollen and aching for attention.

She jerks against you with a strangled gasp. “Oh, fuck.”

The idea of Lottie Matthews having such a filthy mouth makes you laugh out loud. You circle your fingers gently, teasing just the lightest pressure, and she whines, her whole body twitching.

“Good?” you murmur, fingers sliding a little firmer now, just enough to make her hips stutter.

She makes a high, breathless sound. “Yes,” she sighs. “Just— please don’t stop.”

You don’t. You angle your hand, thumb gliding to press in tighter circles as your hips meet hers again, deeper this time. She’s falling apart already, thighs shaking, nails digging into your shoulder.

“God,” she breathes, voice cracking. “You’re gonna make me—”

You kiss her, quieting her with your mouth, swallowing every gasp and curse. Her body tenses, then trembles, thighs locking around your hips, walls pulsing around you as she comes hard against your hand, against you.

The pull of it– that tight, dragging heat– breaks you. That rubber band inside you snaps. You let out a low groan as you spill into her, hips twitching once, twice, your hand still caught between you as the last aftershocks rip through you both.

For a moment, neither of you moves. Just breath and sweat and silence. Her head pressed to your shoulder, your cheek against her temple, both of you boneless and slick, hearts pounding in time.

Lottie strokes a hand down your spine, slow and absent. Touch that’s not about sex, not anymore– just reassurance. She hums, soft and content. Muffled against your skin.

“Thank you,” she murmurs eventually, voice still shaky.

You laugh. You can’t help it. It bubbles up, warm and stunned. “Of course.”

She spreads her legs to let you pull away, winces a little at the mess between you, then slumps back again with a whimpering giggle. “Gross.”

You hum in agreement, eyes fluttering shut as you rest against the tree. A breeze moves through the trees overhead. Sunlight filters down in sleepy patches. You hold her like that for a long time, damp and tangled and peaceful.

Lottie shifts, nuzzles her face into the crook of your neck with a small, satisfied sigh. “We should head back soon.”

You snort. “Oh, now you’re eager to do chores.”

She laughs, tired and light, the sound buzzing gently against your collarbone. “Just trying to avoid the gossip.”

You kiss her hair. “They’ll talk anyway.”

“True,” Lottie mumbles. “At least it was worth it.”

You both linger a moment longer, reluctant to move. The ground is uneven, your limbs are half-asleep, and your clothes are… in an unfortunate state. But there’s something soft here. Settled.

Eventually, Lottie sighs and pushes up on her elbows, grimacing as she pulls her underwear back into place. “Well. We’re disgusting.”

“Speak for yourself.”

She gives you a look— irritated yet fond— and reaches down to help you fix your belt with trembling fingers. Her hands linger at your waistband a touch too long. You don’t mind.

Once you’re both mostly decent, you gather your scattered minds and try not to think about how you’re going to walk back into camp looking freshly ruined.

You glance over as Lottie runs a hand through her hair, fails to tame it, and sighs like she’s given up entirely.

“I look like I got mauled by a bear,” she says dryly.

You grin. “Was the bear hot?”

“Mhm,” she hums, tilting her head like she’s remembering. “She was gorgeous.”

Your face warms immediately. Lottie sees it, of course she does, but pretends not to, biting her lip like she’s trying to hold back a smile. Seven different ways to call her an asshole come to mind, but before you can pick one, she leans in and kisses you again. Quick and sweet, just because she can.

Then, quieter, her voice muffled against your shoulder:

“You’re not still mad at me, right?”

You shake your head. “I wasn’t mad at you in the first place.”

She pulls back just enough to look at you, something soft in her eyes. Relief, maybe a touch of surprise. That smile blooms again, fuller this time. Uninhibited.

You reach for her hand. She takes it without hesitation. Together, you start the walk back through the trees, sore, sticky, still laughing, and already missing the moment.

#mdni #lottie matthews x reader #lottie matthews x you #yellowjackets x reader #lowkey dont like this one but c'est la vie

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