#His circuits are fried | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

callmeimlost · 2 months ago

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✷ HEART SHAPED BOX:: main!mark Grayson x Reader

WARNING:: naked pictures, pictures during sex, smoking (weed) kissing, riding, unprotected sex, teasing, friends to lovers, porn w plot, stoner! Mark !

SUMMARY:: after the discovery of an old camera under his bed, you and mark have a bit too much fun having your own little photoshoot !

MEIMEI YAPS:: so this is like an updated version of an old smut I had; I’m a slow writer and someone requested something that I really wanted it to be well written, so enjoy this while you wait��🏽

Music played as both you and Mark laid on his bed, the smell of weed taking over your senses as this was the third blunt in an hour you both had smoked. Your eyes were low and glossed over, you let the burning blunt sit between your lips and inhale the strong smoke.

You felt your lungs burning as you held in the smoke. Handing it off to the boy who was equally as high next to you seeing him stare at the ceiling as he hits the blunt as well. The blunt was slowly starting to burn out due to the constant chatter bouncing back between the two of you making you take one more weak drag before patting Mark’s leg furiously.

“Can you get me the lighter, feel like my blunt is on life support over here; Grayson” you whine looking down at the neatly wrapped blunt you had rolled along with 2 others that you and Mark had managed to already have smoked after hanging out only 4 hours. Regardless he groans and pats around sheets before he realized it’s not where he last put it. “Where’s the lighter?” He began rolling around lifting up blankets and pillows before huffing frustrated.

“Your lighters grow legs and walk?” Mark asks now as he’s perched up on the back of his legs looking around stupidly as you raise a brow at him unimpressed. “Did you ever think ‘hey, maybe I could’ve dropped it under the bed’?” And it make’s the onyx hair boy slouch slightly before he rolls to the edge of his bed letting his head slip over it bunching the blanket in his hands.

He finds the glitter covered lighter he’s so familliar with he slides the dusty box he doesn’t recognize to the side before grabbing the lighter, his brows scrunch together before he pulls out the box from underneath him then grabbing the lighter before he sits up on the bed along with his new mysterious box. You hold a hand out for him to give you your much needed tool sparking it again.

“What’s in the box?” You ask sluggishly as you take another hit your voice clouded in smoke that fogs the room; but Mark can only shrug “never seen it before, maybe my mom left it in here on accident” he shakes the box hearing how hard whatever was inside was hitting each other making him stop and shake the lid loose until it popped open.

Mark had the bright idea that came to his fried out mind "lay down I wanna take pictures of you" he says as his hand gently pushes down on your midriff, you lean back until you're in the position that he was once in before he was sitting on his knees as they dig into the mattress , moving his legs to straddle over your stomach.

Your shirt riding up your stomach caught the eye of Mark who had a small smile on his lips, his brain practically short circuits as his large hand pushes your shirt up over your chest revealing your pace bra with a bow sewn into the middle.

Your eyes widen in shock at the feeling of his cold hands on your warm skin "what are you doing?" You ask shyly, seeing the boy above you with hungry eyes "pose for the camera" he mumbled lifting the camera above you. You smile covering your eyes with your arm slightly embarrassed that your friend was taking a picture of you in your bra.

Waving it around you opens your eyes to look at the onyx haired boy who had still been towering above you. His eyes darken as he looked down on you with your sweet doe eyes looking back up at him like a deer in headlights and he loved every single second of it.

Dropping the camera on the mattress his hands pull your shirt over your head and toss it into the carpeted floor. "Mark" you say just above a whisper at how bold the boy had become. "Pose" he whispered back, picking up the camera, the tension in the air becoming thicker by the moment.

Pushing yourself on your forearms you look up at the lens your eyes drain from the bright flash, again the camera spits out the picture. Pulling it out this time Mark didn't look at the picture he put the camera down and took his own shirt off laying next to you with a smile on his face.

You felt your body flush as your shoulders rub against each other. Lifting the camera above both of your faces Mark looked over at you who had already been looking at him. Your eyes are red and glossy as your eyelashes cast a shadow on your cheeks.

Holding eye contact for what felt like forever his eyes flicker down to your lips then back into your eyes. He didn't move any further making you almost let a whine ripple through your throat at how needy you felt to have his lips on yours.

Moving in closer, your eyes leave his and fall to his plump lips, you feel the tip of his nose brush against yours, even the smallest touch makes your stomach churn with butterflies. Giving him one last look your eyes flutter closed as you close the little distance between you and the feeling of his soft lips on yours was all that surged through your mind.

Sucking in a breath through your nose your hand falls to the back of his neck pulling him in deeper making the kiss more needy and lust filled. Progressively speeding up your teeth clash against each other as the smell of his cologne takes over your senses.

Letting out a small groan Mark's hand makes way to the belt loop of your jeans, hooking two fingers inside and pulling your hips closer against his. Your bra covered chest pushes against his naked one while your hand finds his hair, entangling your fingers and shamelessly moaning into his mouth.

His tongue now licking a stripe on your bottom lip begging for access, parting your lips, his tongue immediately brushing against yours mixing your saliva. As you suck on his tongue the remnants of weed and candy on his taste buds didn't bother you a bit.

The flash of the camera goes off making you pull away with hesitation written all over your face, Mark pulling back to see the picture develop and show up with a frame of you and him swapping saliva and shoving your tongues down each other's throats.

But you aren't as slick as you hoped to be. Mark caught the way your knees and thighs pushed together at his words making the small boyish grin on his lips turn into a smirk. Looking back over at you both still high, Mark couldn't help but ask "you wanna keep going?" You could pounce on the boy at any moment seeing as his hair was now messy, his lips now swollen with your lipgloss smeared on them, and his labored breathing making his chest rise and fall more noticeably.

You nod your head looking him in his deep coffee brown eyes with adoration and lust "I want you to fuck me" you say loud enough for him but just above a whisper in the silent room. Your words make Mark twitch in his boxers. Letting out a groan his head falls back "you're gonna fucking kill me" he said as his cock aches within the confinements of his tight boxers and pants.

The way you looked at him was like you were begging for him to just fuck you dumb on his cock. So when he gripped your chin pushing your head back, you could feel his lips on your neck, aimlessly sucking hickeys on your neck leaving purple and red splotches on your supple skin.

You let out small moans at the feeling of his teeth brushing against your sensitive spot that makes you shiver and your hand entangle in his messy black locks. His thumb rubbing against your bottom lip, you open your mouth letting the harsh pad of his thumb press against your tongue.

Sucking on his thumb Mark groaned as the feeling of your warm mouth engulfing his finger, he couldn't help but imagine how good you would look with his cock on your tongue instead of his thumb. Kissing a trail down your neck to your chest.

Your body is covered in goosebumps at the feeling of his warm tongue licking at your cold skin. His hand finds itself behind your back unclipping your bra letting it slip off your shoulders; watching your breasts spill out of the fabric and padding. Discarding it his hands palm your chest as leans down to lick your sensitive nipples making you let out a small moan.

Licking a stripe on one of your nipples you roll your hips at the feeling. But as soon as he pulled away you whine, "sit on my lap" he says in a low tone. Catching a glimpse of the look on his face as the both of you shift until Mark's back presses against the headboard. Pulling his jeans down and tossing them on the floor he looks up expectantly waiting for you to pull yours off as well.

Understanding without saying a word you pull them off discarding them with his as well. Leaving you in your panties that were sticking to you with a small wet patch seeping through the thin fabric. Crawling into his lap you press your ass down on his bulge with no regard earning you a choked moan. You could feel as if your pussy practically stuck to the wet fabric of your panties while you grind your hips against him.

The small wet watch of precum becomes larger as your panties make friction soaking his underwear as well. The outline of his cock rubbing against your clit makes your head spin and you couldn't help but moan and grind harder against him. "You feel so good" you whimper hearing the sticky sounds of your slick thighs rubbing together, it was messy yet the both of you were too eager chasing some form of an orgasm to care what kind of mess you make.

Your hand moves around the mattress to find the camera as you look down at Mark whose head was thrown back while he lets out the deepest groans of pleasure. His hands guiding your hips against his at a faster pace makes you choke out louder moans.

"Fuck" he whispered harshly as you finally find the camera and holding the camera up you place your eye close to the view finder as you point the lens at a dazed Mark who was on cloud 9.

Pressing down on the shutter button the flash finally goes off making Mark open his eyes and look up at you, "you looked too good" you whisper placing one of your hands down on his lower abdomen as you feel Mark buck his hips into you faster.

The feeling of the fabric running against your pussy slightly burned but it felt too good to care. "Feels so good" he grumbled as the pressure began to build. The both of you chasing your orgasms push your panties to the side rubbing your bare pussy against the fabric of his boxers at a fast pace that makes you whine.

You gasp feeling yourself being sent over the edge, Mark begins to slow down but you only shake your head as you anticipate him reaching his peak. "Please keep going, I want you to cum" you moan as your nails drag against his skin leaving behind a trail of red marks.

Your needy words make his eyes roll back as he pushes your hips down, he ruts into you as he moans shamelessly. Mark had no idea if it was just the weed or if your pussy had fucking magic but your sweet moans and the sloppy sounds send him into a spiral of pleasure. His cum seeps through his boxers as his hips twitch in a bit of overstimulation he didn't care, his hips slow down and then stop completely as he feels himself slowly coming back down to earth.

He lets out a large huff as a shy smile finds its way on his face, he can't believe he just came in his boxers after literally letting you dry hump him like a needy puppy. His hands grip at the flesh of your ass he lets out a small chuckle with a smirk on his lips.

"You're driving me crazy- fuck" he groaned as he continues to catch his breath. You giggle at him still feeling your mind trying to process. Who would've thought getting high off of 3 blunts and having sex would feel this good.

Pushing you off his thighs Mark gently pushes you down into the sheets pulling your panties down and sliding them off your ankle he discards them. The view of your pussy practically shining in all its wet glory. Mark was desperate. To touch, taste and fill you up in so many ways he couldn't even think straight.

Nobody had ever made you feel so good just by barely touching. Until Mark had decided to drag his face down your stomach, littering small kisses on your sweet supple skin until he stopped at the place you needed him most. Kissing down your inner thigh sucking hickeys into your skin you shiver at the feeling of his warm tongue giving your puffy lips a small lick. Whispering a curse under his breath he licks again this time he is much more confident.

he holds your thighs when the pleasure starts seizing your limbs, as the feeling of his warm tongue licking from your hole to your clit and sucking needly. You moan as your hand reaches for the back of his head pushing him against your pussy.

Groaning against you sent vibrations all over as you let out a small giggle that broke into a moan feeling the harsh pad of his thumb rub against your clit while his tongue worked to push inside you.

The sounds you make are music to his ears. He presses his nose on your clit, inhaling your scent deeply before his tongue dives inside your waiting pussy. You pull onto his hair, writhing against his face. "Feels so good Mark" you moan as you roll your hips against his face.

You could feel his lips curve against your pussy sending shivers down your spine. The wet muscle repetitively enters you, eager to gather your nectar. It feels like heaven, stomach tightening with each second.

Pulling away his thumb Mark flattens his tongue against you licking from your entrance to your clit again, kissing it he sucks harshly on the bud with no regard as you moan his name mindlessly. "Oh fuck" you manage to whimper out you tug at his hair as he groaned, your eyes shut as you "please use your fingers" you moan neediness dripping from your tone.

His hand moving from your plush thigh, his thumb rubbing harsh circles on your clit he pulled away licking your clit once more his middle and ring fingers make way to your entrance. Pushing in slowly you groan at the penetration, easing your tight walls around his thick fingers as he pushes them deeper you feel the cool metal on his rings all the way at the knuckles of his fingers as it grounds you from the euphoric feeling.

Pulling his head he looks up at you with your juices on his swollen lips and on his chin his fingers begin to move, opening your eyes. You look down at him feeling his gaze as he watches you react gasping as the feeling you grind down against his fingers "you like that? Hm?" He says as he licks your essence off of his lips.

His hair now disheveled as his cheeks were blooming with a soft blush, you nod eagerly "yeah? You want me to go faster for you?" He coos feeling you clench around him at the sound of his lewd words, you clench harder "yes please" you say losing your mind on his fingers as you absentmindedly grind down on them.

Without a single falter in his movements his fingers began to rub against the gummy part of your walls at a faster rate as the sound of your sopping pussy getting pounded by his fingers made you squeal. "Feels so good Mark" you cry out hoping to god he wouldn't stop the rewarding pace he had set. Your hips involuntarily buck against his fingers as his assault of pleasure on your pussy consumed you whole.

"I'm close" you whine as the sloshing sound and the sound of you and Mark's mixed heavy breathing had been the only thing you could hear "yeah, you gonna cum all over my fingers?" He asks teasingly as his tongue licks a long stripe against your clit that had the feeling in the pit of your stomach churning in anticipation for your orgasm.

"Yes, wanna cum just for you" you whine under your breath as he pushes and pulls his fingers in and out of you faster watching you come closer and closer to the edge waiting for him to catch you. He sucks and licks your clit harshly making you let out a loud moan as you cum all over his fingers.

"So good" he hummed as he fucks you through your high slowing down as he kisses your clit that's now sensitive making you writhed under him. "Doing so good for me" he chuckles breathily as he pulls away from you kissing your thighs as if he was rewarding you.

You let out a small giggle that turned into a choked moan when his long fingers pulled out of you. With no hesitation he sucked on his fingers licking off any essence and cum you had left on his digits.

Pulling them away he leans in to kiss you letting his tongue brush over yours to taste yourself. The smell of weed and whatever sweet smelling candle he stole from Debbie had sent you into a spiral of neediness. "Want' you to fuck me so bad" you mumble against his lips.

"I got you don't worry" he says reassuringly, pulling off his cum stained boxers he let out a sigh of relief, his hard cock twitching and blushing a soft red at his tip he couldn't help but wrap his hand around his length and jerk himself off at the beautiful sight that was you naked in his bed looking up at his with round red eyes.

“Fuck, I wanna see you on top of me” he hissed as the sticky sound of his hand wrapped around his cock makes your thigh twitch. “Ride you?” You ask lazily and he hums as he watches you grin letting Mark lay against the pillows in the middle of the bed.

He moves your legs open wider as he takes his rightful place in between them once again. Watching the tip of his cock rub up and down your slit as your hips twitch in sensitivity. His cock glistening from a mixture of precum and your slick he presses the head of his cock at your entrance slowly pushing inside you enjoying the warm and tight feeling inside you.

His hands move to either side of your legs as he looks down on you with complete adoration in his eyes. Pushing deeper inside you he lets out a moan "fuck you feel so good" he says as he catches his bottom lip in between his teeth.

"You're so big" you slur seeing how good he filled you up to the brim your arms wrap around his neck your foreheads pressed together as you watch his begin to slowly move. Mark couldn't get enough of the sight as his cock disappeared inside your pussy.

His cock buried deep inside you that you moan and dig crescent shaped dents into his skin. set a pace for bouncing in his lap. The feeling of your velvety walls tightening around making him choke back a moan. "Oh- god" you whisper shakily. His hands holding onto your hips guiding a pace, the soft sound of skin slapping with your small moans could be heard throughout the room.

You looked so good with your chest bouncing and your hair all messy. You looked good with a small sheen of sweat on your skin and your makeup smeared, he was addicted to the sight. Mark; eager to let his load off inside you, holds your thighs stopping you from bouncing any longer and begins to thrust his hips into you. The feeling of his tip pushing at your cervix.

"Just like that! I just want you to come inside me" you babble mindlessly as his stomach churns at the words spewing out. "Yeah? Want me to fill you up with my cum?" he groans as the knot in your stomach begins to tighten and Mark's death grip on the fat of your thighs almost sends you over the edge if it wasn't for how hard he was pounding you.

You nod eagerly as you begin to alternate between grinding and bouncing, your nails drag against his back leaving behind a red and irritated trail- yet he didn't mind it as it pushed him closer to his orgasm.

Leaning down to him your moans against each other's lips push you closer and closer. Your back is arching as you move faster wanting to cum so badly "keep going. Don't stop" he groaned, letting his head fall back.

His hair messily pushed against his forehead as it was covered in sweat and his eyes rolled back "god I'm gonna cum" he said breathily "I want you to look at me when you cum okay?" Says opening his eyes looking up at you.

You nod as you let your moans fall past your lips, the sensation building more and more until it became to overwhelming you gasp "I'm gonna cum" you whine as your hips fall more hastily on him, the strings of your juices latching onto your thighs. His moans mixed with yours as he drowned in the feeling of your walls spasming around him pushing him completely over the edge.

"Fuck" he groaned as warm spurts of cum filled you, grinding down and letting the cum spill past your walls and down the base of his cock you hum as your content with your orgasm. And just as fast as all of this began- it ended with you pulling off of Mark and laying down beside him, your chests both slowly riding and falling, you turn your head over to him with low red eyes, he meets your gaze "want me to re-light the blunt?" You ask with a smirk.

He nods, leaning over to kiss your lips he smiles against your lips as his hand reaches over to the bed side table that holds the ashtray his fingers pluck the blunt from out of the ash tray as well as grabbing the lighter he hands bedazzled lighter you gifted him in his invincible colors; he presses the blunt between his lips as you spark the flame watching him glow under the warmth of the fire.

Watching as the thick clouds of smoke begin to cloud the room filled with the smell of weed and sex wafting over your senses. “One more round after this?” He asks as he blows out another puff out handing the blunt to you which makes you laugh and nod as you take a hit yourself perching your naked chest against his.

Mark looks down at the sheets and reaches for the boxy hunk of plastic he leans away from you before holding the camera up to his face “so pretty” he coo’s teasingly as the camera shutters you snatch it from his hands as the camera spits up the picture you toss it to the end of the bed before tugging his body back into yours he rolls onto you slightly pecking your lips twice before plucking the blunt from your grasp with a boyish smile.

#callmeimlost ☆‧₊˚❱ ✿•#invincible smut #mark grayson x reader #invincible #mark grayson x reader smut

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blasphemyandbackshots · 28 days ago

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Can you do mha and How they would react to you squirting, TYSM, I love your writing༼⁠;⁠´⁠༎ຶ⁠ ⁠۝ ⁠༎ຶ⁠༽

Izuku Midoriya - He malfunctions. Like… his brain just freezes. One second he’s fingering you with focused intensity and murmuring praise. And the next, your thighs are shaking, your mouth is falling open and you soak the sheets. He pulls back in awe, hands still trembling. “Did I—did I do that? You… you squirted? Oh my god—are you okay? Did that feel good? That was—wow—should I take notes?!” Once you assured him it was amazing, he gets obsessed with recreating it. Makes it his new mission. Hero Analysis Notebook Vol. 69 is now heavily dedicated to your pleasure.

Katsuki Bakugo - You squirt? This man grins like a devil. He’s got two fingers deep in you, wrist pumping like he’s trying to make you cry and when it happens, he growls, “Oh fuck yes, baby. You fuckin’ made a mess, huh?” His face is flushed, eyes wild, voice rough with pride. He rubs your overstimulated pussy through it just to see if he can make you do it again. “Gonna get addicted to this. You better keep squirting for me, princess.”You’re not walking tomorrow and you both know it.

Shouta Aizawa - Calm and collected? Not when this happens. You’re riding his face, quiet moans slipping out and suddenly you drench his mouth. His lashes flutter and he blinks up at you like he just got blessed by a goddess. He doesn’t stop. He licks through it with reverent, lazy strokes until you’re trembling. “…That was beautiful,” he murmurs. “I want to see it again. And again.” Aftercare king. Changes the sheets, wraps you in his arms and whispers about how beautiful you are.

Denki Kaminari - Short circuits. Like literally. He stares at the wet patch on the bed like it owes him money. “Holy shiiiiiit, did I just—did you just—? Babe. That was so hot I think I actually fried something.” He’s a little stunned, a lot smug and incredibly horny. Tries to fist bump you about it after. Becomes your #1 hype man. “My girl’s a squirter. I knew she had it in her.” No peace after that. Denki wants to make it happen every single time.

Eijiro Kirishima - At first he pauses, concerned. “Was that—did I hurt you?” You assure him no, it felt amazing, and then he glows. Practically beams with pride. “You’re so amazing, babe. That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Wanna make you feel like that again.” Will not shut up about how beautiful you looked while you came. Tells you it’s manly as hell to lose control with someone you trust. Next round he tries to make you do it on his abs. For science.

Hanta Sero - “Whoa, whoa, what—did you just—holy fuck, that was hot.” Hanta is a chaotic blend of turned on and impressed. He kisses you hard, groaning into your mouth as he thrusts through your overstimulated slickness. “Damn, babe. I didn’t know you could do that. You’re full of surprises.” 100% teases you about it later but in the sweetest way. “Need me to mop the floor first or you gonna flood it again?”

Hitoshi Shinsou - He plays it cool, but his eyes are blazing. Watches the way your body jerks, the wetness gushing over his fingers and murmurs, “You’ve been holding out on me.” Takes his fingers out slowly, deliberately, licking them clean like it’s the most casual thing in the world. “You liked that? Want to do it again?” Baby, you do it again. And again. He finds the rhythm that makes you gush and uses it like a secret weapon.

Keigo Takami - Smirks the second he feels you squirt. “Damn, sweet bird. You just soaked my thighs. Should I be proud or concerned?” His wings are trembling, he’s so turned on he can barely keep his composure. Immediately leans down, tongue flicking over your clit to keep it going.“Gotta say, you’ve outdone yourself. Didn’t know my girl had that in her.” Won’t shut up about it for days. Brags to himself like you just won him a trophy.

Dabi - “Holy fuck.” That’s all he says when it happens the first time, right after three fingers pump into your cunt and your body arches, a flood soaking his lap. You think he’ll mock you. But instead, he licks his lips slowly and stares at you like you’re prey. “Do it again,” he growls. “Don’t care if you scream. I wanna see that pretty pussy gush ‘til you’re crying.” Unholy obsession unlocked. You’re not leaving that room dry again.

Tomura Shigaraki - Twitches. Pauses. Looks down. “You… what the fuck was that?” You’re panting, trembling, barely able to respond and that does something to him. He stares at the mess between your legs, smirking like he’s just discovered a new level of corruption. “Gross,” he murmurs, but his hand returns, rougher now. “Do it again. I wanna ruin this mattress.” You’re ruined instead. He becomes addicted to the power of making your body fall apart.

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zeropro · 3 months ago

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RED ALERT SPOTTED!!!

Seeing Red Alert in your last post was such a pleasant surprise, he's my absolute favorite but I see so little of him. Do you have any plans to draw him in some of your comics in the future?

Also, since Red is there, how did he react to Starscream and Skywarp coming to the Autobot base when Skywarp was hurt?

Just a little one:

he's doing it on purpose :P

I haven't really given much thought on the logistics of the seekers' stay at Autobot base because i dont actually know the autobots very well. i understand that the Autobots letting Starscream of all mechs free range of Autobot base is very farfetched, but consider: lets say Starscream has been ineffectively leading the Decepticons for three years and caused very little problems during that time span, suddenly turns up extremely mask off with worry over Skywarp's condition, and also arrived bearing news that Megatron is still alive and back in the game (their animosity is not a secret in either faction). I think there is at least some reason for the autobots to give him the benefit of the doubt, especially when he becomes suspiciously determined to behave. Red Alert would have been one of the loudest voices against Starscream's trustworthiness, given their past history, and would have required placating. Red is a paranoid guy, but i think he's reasonable enough when his logic circuits arent being fried. My thought is maybe Starscream is required to have a chaperone while on base, and maybe Red insisted on having a camera installed in the seekers' room. Im sure even as other autobots like Bumblebee start to trust Starscream, Red will continue to just not want to be around him, which is fair.

#transformers #Red Alert #starscream #i just watched the episode Auto Berserk #red alert is doing his best to deal with starscream running around autobot base haha

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itneverendshere · 7 months ago

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LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - EIGHT

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mentions of pregnancy; abortion.

MASTERLIST

Topper prided himself in keeping out of people’s business.

He hadn’t noticed anything was off with you on his own, he wouldn’t have; he didn’t do the whole “emotional radar” thing.

But Rafe had practically cornered him, demanding he figure out what was going on with you.

You were his cousin, after all.

That didn’t stop the way his stomach twisted from thinking about lying to you, or how every part of him had always silently rooted for you and Rafe. He’d loved seeing you two together. You were a mess most days, for years, sure, but it was the kind of mess that made sense in a way, and Topper couldn’t help but admire it.

You were like fire and gasoline.

But that was before the break-up, before everything got fucked.

Now, you were just… distant. He never knew how to approach you without feeling like he was crossing a line, but the way you’d passed out on Rafe at the beach had him worrying in a way that was more personal than he wanted to admit.

He wasn’t a thinker, not really, he liked simple things: good waves, cold beer, and not getting roped into drama.

But there he was, standing outside your door with Korean fried chicken. He didn’t do feelings, and he didn’t do heavy conversations. Rafe owed him big for this. The conversation had been good, even when you started talking about Sarah and Ruthie.

Topper was all in—laughing along, throwing in a dumb joke here and there, the usual. It felt nice, like when you were kids, sneaking your dad’s beers and pretending you weren’t gonna get caught.

But then he had to go and ruin it by asking if you were okay.

You went all stiff, then weirdly far away, laughing it off like he’d just asked you to explain calculus or something. You mumbled something about being fine and then bolted to the bathroom before he could even follow up with his usual Topper-brand wisdom.

He sat there, feeling uncomfortable, which wasn’t a thing he usually did. You were acting off, and it was messing with him more than he wanted to admit.

Finally, he decided he needed to move, so he got up to grab some water. Except, as he walked past the counter, his hip caught a pile of your mail, and an envelope went sliding to the floor.

“Crap,” he muttered, crouching to grab it. It was just some random envelope, but there was a phone number written on the front in messy blue ink.

Topper didn’t think about it—because thinking wasn’t really his strong suit—he just whipped out his phone and typed it in. Curiosity, man. It got him every time.

He hit call. He wasn’t trying to snoop or anything. It was just one of those things you do on autopilot, right? Call a number just to see who answers? Except this time, someone did answer.

The phone rang. Once. Twice. Then:

“Women’s Health Center, how can I help you?”

His brain short-circuited, full-on panic mode. He stared at the phone like it had grown a second screen, then frantically hit the hang-up button just as the bathroom door creaked open.

You were back.

Topper, sweating for no reason, slapped the envelope back on the counter like it was about to explode and turned to you with a smile that definitely didn’t match his pounding heart.

He got out of there as soon as possible, as he drove to meet Rafe, the whole thing was still playing on a loop in his head. That phone number, the voice on the other end of the line, the way you’d acted when he’d asked if you were okay—he couldn’t stop trying to force the pieces into place.

Something was going on, he wasn't sure what, and he wasn’t exactly the guy you went to for deep insights, but he felt something was up.

When he pulled into Tanyhill, he spotted Rafe leaning against his truck, scrolling through his phone with that permanent scowl he seemed to have these days. He barely had the car in park before Rafe was pushing off the truck and heading his way.

He climbed out, doing his best to act normal—which, for him, meant cracking the same goofy grin he always did. His mind was still spinning with a dozen half-formed thoughts about that phone call, that clinic, and how the the fuck he might fit into all of it.

The only thing he knew for sure was that Rafe knowing could be catastrophic. Like, meteor-hits-earth catastrophic.

“You gotta chill,” Topper said, slamming his car door shut and giving Rafe a once-over. “Why do you look like you’re about to punch somebody?”

Rafe just glared, shoving his phone in his pocket. “What’d you find out?”

He blinked, thrown by how fast he cut to the point. “Nice to see you, too. Second, what makes you think I found out anything?”

“Don’t fuck with me, Top. Did you figure it out or not?”

“Yeah, I figured it out,” Topper shot back, crossing his arms. “But why the hell did you make me go through all this work if you already know what’s going on?”

Rafe shrugged, leaning back against the truck like this was all just some casual conversation. “Didn’t think you’d actually get it, to be honest.”

“Bro, I’m not that stupid. How did you get to the bottom of this shit? I’m still confused as fuck over here.”

Rafe’s mouth twitched like he was deciding whether to smirk or yell, hesettled on neither. “She passed out on me, remember?”

“So?” Topper shot back, frowning. “I’ve seen you pass out for, like, way less.”

“It wasn’t the same. It wasn’t a hangover or heat stroke, it was different. And she’s been weird lately, avoiding everyone.” Rafe leaned back against his truck, arms crossed, talking fast. “The hospital did blood work.”

Topper, who’d been zoning out halfway through his little doctor act, suddenly perked up.

“Wow,” he mused, dragging the word out. “Okay. So, how’d you take the news? I mean, shit, you look pretty calm for once. Didn’t think that was in your wheelhouse."

Rafe frowned, his sharp blue eyes narrowing, the crease between his brows deepening like it always did when he thought someone was wasting his time.

"The fuck are you talking about?”

Topper shrugged like this was totally normal. “I just expected you to, like…freak out or somethin'. Throw a punch, maybe.”

“Throw a punch about what?” Rafe snapped.

“About—” Topper paused, squinting at Rafe like he was trying to solve a puzzle. “Wait. What are you supposed to do?”

Rafe’s hand twitched toward his jaw, fingers brushing over the stubble there, a telltale sign that he was gearing up to lose patience. He didn’t wait for Topper to answer before shaking his head, the movement quick and irritated.

“Don’t do that, man,” he added, pointing a finger “I’ll help her figure it out. What else can I do?”

Topper tilted his head, genuinely impressed. “Damn. You really matured, huh? I mean, good for you.”

“Top, what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Rafe demanded, his tone sharp now like he was finally catching on to the fact that they weren’t on the same page.

Topper blinked, “I’m just saying you’re handling it better than I thought. Especially since she’s not—uh, showing yet.”

“Not showing what?”

“…The bump?”

He immediately realized he’d said the wrong thing, or maybe the right thing, but in the wrong tone, with the wrong level of context, and—okay, maybe he should just stop talking.

Abort mission, abort mission. Topper immediately wanted to crawl into a hole. Dude, shut up, shut up, shut up.

“What the fuck?” Rafe’s voice cracked; his eyes blazing as he stepped closer. “What bump?!”

His laugh fizzled out under Rafe’s glare, it was starting to feel less like “concerned ex-boyfriend” and more like “interrogating cop.” He felt a bead of sweat slide down the back of his neck.

Cool. Stay cool.

“Wait,” Topper held his hands up, trying to physically stop the situation from spiraling. “What do you think is wrong with her?”

His brain was spinning in a way it wasn’t built for. He was a simple guy—he liked clear problems and easy fixes. But this? This was a category-five disaster, and he was stuck right in the middle of it.

Rafe let out a sharp breath through his nose, dragging a hand through his hair, the small strands sticking up in every direction.

“I think she’s got a fucking infection! Why the hell would I think she’s pregnant?”

Topper hesitated, glancing toward the house like maybe Sarah or Wheezie might miraculously appear to save him. No such luck.

“Well fucking shit,” Topper blurted, the words tumbling out in a rush. His heart was pounding, and he was pretty sure he’d just signed his death warrant. “I—I didn’t say she’s pregnant, okay? I found this number, and it was for a women’s health center, and—fuck, man, I’m dead. I’m so dead.”

Rafe grabbed him by the collar, yanking him close. “Start talking. Now.”

“I wasn’t snooping, okay? It just—happened. I wasn’t trying to get in her business, but—”

“But what?” Rafe barked. His other hand twitched at his side, curling into a fist before flexing out again, a warning of how close Topper was to eating pavement, but Rafe wasn’t the one he feared right now.

You were going to kill him.

He could already picture the look on your face when you found out—those cold, furious eyes, the way your voice would drop, he was officially dead meat. He gulped, his mouth dry as his brain scrambled for something—anything—that wouldn’t get him killed or disowned.

“You better explain what the fuck you mean by ‘happened,’” Rafe growled, his grip tightening, giving Topper’s collar a shake, just enough to make his point clear.

Topper was done, leaving nothing but pure panic and the faint, distant sound of his voice saying things he definitely shouldn’t.

“I called the number!” Topper yelped. “I didn’t even mean to, it was—dude, she’s gonna kill me, and I mean that literally. She will.”

“Not if I kill you first,” Rafe shoved him back, his grip finally loosening, his face unreadable now, which was somehow worse than when he’d looked ready to punch him. “You’re telling me you think she’s pregnant? And you didn’t remember to tell me sooner?”

“I didn’t!” Topper said quickly, panic bubbling over. “It’s not like she’s gonna tell me this kind of stuff.”

“Did she say anything to you? Anything about seeing a doctor or being sick?”

Topper shook his head so fast it made him dizzy. “I asked if she was okay, but she just brushed it off and changed the subject.”

The silence that followed was thick and suffocating, both of them staring each other down.

“No, no way. She’s probably… I don’t fucking know, changing her pill or something.”

Topper raised an eyebrow. “Changing her pill?”

“Yeah,” Rafe said quickly, “Or—what else do they do there? Those check-up things. Maybe she’s getting one of those.”

“Uh-huh,” Topper replied, not convinced but also not dumb enough to call him out on it outright. “Sure. Just a… routine check-up?”

“Exactly,” Rafe agreed a little too loud, his tone almost defensive as he started circling again, his hands gesturing wildly. “They don’t just deal with… y'know. They do all kinds of shit. Tests, prescriptions, all that stuff. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Topper scratched the back of his neck, his expression caught between agreement and unease. “I mean, yeah, they do other stuff… but don’t you think—”

“I don’t think anything, there’s nothing to think about. She’s fine. She’s—she’s fine.” He stopped pacing, standing rigid with his hands on his hips, glaring at the ground like it had personally offended him.

“Okay,” Topper started, his tone cautious. “I get that you don’t want to jump to conclusions, but—”

“I’m not jumping to conclusions!” Rafe barked, spinning around “You’re the one making it into something it’s not! She’s not—she wouldn’t—she hasn’t told me anything,” He muttered finally, “And if she’s hiding this… from me…”

He’d never seen Rafe like this—angry, yeah, but there was something else there, either way, it wasn’t good. His glare burned into him, but for the first time, there was hesitation behind it. He wasn’t just mad—he was scared. Topper couldn’t decide if that made him feel better or worse.

“Holy shit,” Rafe muttered, gripping the side of his truck for balance. His vision going fuzzy as his heart raced like he’d just sprinted a mile. “Holy shit, what if—what if she is?”

“Dude, breathe,” Topper said, stepping closer cautiously like Rafe was a live grenade. “You don’t even—”

“Even if—if—she was, how the hell would that even—” He cut himself off, his face twisting like he couldn’t decide whether to finish the thought or abandon it entirely.

Topper didn’t need him to finish, he understood exactly what Rafe was thinking. The timeline, the breakup, the way everything had gone down between you.

Rafe’s breath hitched as he let go of the truck and paced a few steps, his hands on his hips, muttering under his breath. “No. No way. It’s not—she’d tell me, right? She’d fucking tell me.”

Images started flashing through his mind in rapid succession, each one more ridiculous and unhinged than the last. You, standing in some clinic, staring at a test with a blank expression. You, trying to figure out how to tell Rafe.

You, holding a baby—Rafe’s baby—in your arms.

“This doesn’t make any sense. We were careful. She’s just stressed, girls go through shit. Hormones or whatever. Right?”

“You’re asking me? I barely passed bio. I’m not exactly a walking textbook on—” He stopped himself, seeing the look on Rafe’s face. “I don’t know what’s going on with her, okay? But if this is what I think it is, you gotta handle it right. Don’t screw it up more than it already is.”

“And if I don’t handle it right?”

Topper forced a shaky grin, even as his stomach twisted in knots.

“Then I guess I’ll see you in hell, man. Because she’s gonna kill us both.”

Rafe’s hands went to his hips, his thumb brushing the edge of his pocket as he stared past Topper, he was trying to work out an equation that wasn’t adding up.

“She hasn’t said a word to me,” Rafe muttered, “Not at the hospital, not since. And you think…” He trailed off, dragging a hand over his face.

Topper shifted on his feet, resisting the urge to bolt to the other side of the world.

“I guess, but I swear, it wasn’t on purpose.”

Rafe shot him a look, his brows knitting together, and Topper felt like he was under a microscope. “You called a random number. How does that ‘just happen’?”

He huffed, throwing his hands up. “I was grabbing some water, and her mail fell, and there was this number—I didn’t think! I just… acted.” He groaned, his head falling back as he stared at the sky. “I didn’t mean to put two and two together, but what was I supposed to do? You’re the one who made me go digging in the first place!”

“You really think that’s what’s going on?” Rafe asked finally, his voice quieter.

“You said she’s acting weird, and then there was that number, and…” He trailed off, scratching the back of his neck.

“Do you even understand what this means? If she’s—if there’s a—” He broke off, “I’d have to—Jesus Christ, what would I even do? I’m not—God.”

His hands gripped the edge of the truck bed so hard his knuckles turned white, the veins in his arms standing out as he glared at the ground like it had personally offended him.

“If she didn’t tell me—” His voice was low, quiet in a way that made Topper wince because he knew what came next.

“Maybe just... ask her?”

“Ask her?” he repeated, his voice disbelieving.

“Yeah, you know,” Topper said, gesturing vaguely. “Talk to her? Maybe find out what’s going on instead of losing your shit over worst-case scenarios?”

Rafe shook his head, “No. If she wanted me to know, she’d tell me. She’s... she’s dealing with her own stuff. It’s not my place to push.”

“Since when do you not push?”

“Since now,” Rafe snapped, though even he didn’t sound convinced.

“Rafe—”

“No, seriously,” Rafe interrupted, his voice rising now, the tight restraint unraveling with every word. “If she’s—if she’s going through this, if she’s pregnant, and she didn’t tell me?” He let out a bitter chuckle, “What the fuck does that say? About me.”

Topper opened his mouth, hesitated, then closed it again. This felt like a minefield, and if anyone was good at stepping on the wrong spot, it was him.

Rafe pushed off the truck, he couldn’t physically stay still. His eyes were burning as he raked a hand through his buzzed hair.

“I was—fuck. She thinks what? That I wouldn’t show up for this. She didn’t tell me because she doesn’t think I deserve to know.”

“That’s not true,” Topper said quickly, stepping closer, but Rafe’s empty laugh stopped him.

“Isn’t it?” Rafe’s voice was hollow now, all the fire drained out of him, turning his head slightly, just enough for Topper to see his throat working as he swallowed hard. “What the hell have I ever done to make her think I’d be there? That I’d—” He broke off. “Shit. I wouldn’t blame her. I can't even fucking blame her.”

“You still care about her, right?” Topper pressed, knowing he didn’t have to ask to know the answer.

Rafe’s head snapped up, “She’s the only thing I’ve ever cared about.”

He nodded slowly, “Then prove it.”

The envelope sat exactly where you’d left it, the faintest corner of folded. You froze for a second, your pulse quickening.

No. No way.

It was fine. Fine.

The number wasn’t even labeled—just digits scrawled hastily, you hadn’t touched it in days. Still, you couldn’t stop the tiny seed of panic attaching itself to your chest. There was absolutely no way Topper could’ve seen it, let alone put two and two together.

You exhaled slowly, placing it back on the counter.

He didn’t see it. He couldn’t have seen it.

Then why had he acted so… off? The pale face, the sudden excuse, the jittery energy—it was all so unlike him.

You shook your head, trying to push the thought away, a million things could’ve set him off.

Maybe Ruthie had texted him something awful, or maybe he’d remembered he had to pick up his dry cleaning before the shop closed. Knowing Topper, it was probably something stupid and unrelated to you entirely.

Still, the nagging lingered as you cleaned up the counter and threw away the napkins. You glanced at the envelope one last time, then slid it into a drawer and shut it firmly. Whatever was going on with your cousin, it couldn’t have anything to do with that. It was impossible. And yet…

You sighed, rubbing your temples.

“Pregnancy brain,” you muttered to yourself. “Making me paranoid over nothing.”

Of course that didn’t stop your heart from jumping every time the drawer creaked, or when you saw anything even remotely similar to that envelope’s color lying around the house for the entire night. Not that he’d ask, of course—Topper wasn’t the confrontational type, especially not with you. But he noticed things. And when he noticed, he worried.

The next morning you sank onto the couch, hugging a pillow to your chest. Topper was close, but he wasn’t like Sarah. She had been able to look you in the eye and say, You know I’m here, right? and mean it without any strings attached. Topper, though…

Your fingers itched toward your phone, even though it was stupid to call her so early over this. Still, you needed someone to remind you that you weren’t losing it, that Topper’s weirdness had nothing to do with anything serious.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you found Sarah’s number, pressing the call button. She picked up on the second ring, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

You could picture her, sitting in her car or probably stretched out somewhere in Poguelandia with her feet propped up on a table, looking concerned.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just…” You trailed off, fiddling with the edge of a pillow.

“Topper’s been acting strange. And I think I’m just overthinking it, but it’s making me crazy.”

She made a sound between a hum and a laugh. “So the Topper panic spiral. That’s what we’re dealing with?”

“Basically,” you muttered, trying to keep your tone light. “But this time… He was here last night, and I thought he saw this random piece of paper I had with, you know. A number on it.” You took a shaky breath, embarrassed for how paranoid you sounded. “But he couldn’t have, right? I mean, it was buried under five other things.”

“Okay,” Sarah said slowly, clearly choosing her words. “First, let’s just say that if he did see anything, which he probably didn’t, he wouldn’t assume the worst. He’s your cousin; he knows you don’t tell him everything, and he respects that. Right?”

“Yeah… I guess.” You chewed your lip, feeling a little stupid for even calling her. “But what if he does put it together, Sarah? I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

“He won’t,” she reassured, like she could see right through your anxiety. “And you don’t need to feel bad for wanting to keep this private. You’re allowed to handle it however you need to. You’re not doing anything wrong.”

You exhaled, the knot in your chest loosening a little. She always knew how to talk you down, "Okay,” you murmured, and a shaky laugh slipped out. “Maybe I'm being paranoid.”

“Pregnancy brain,” she teased, and you couldn’t help but smile.

You hung up feeling marginally better.

Sarah had a way of calming you down, but the uneasiness stayed with you, the way it always did when you couldn’t fully explain something.

But the relief was fleeting, by lunchtime, the nagging voice in your head was back. Topper wasn’t malicious, but he did have a habit of talking without thinking, and the last thing you needed was for this to get out before you were ready. Not only was this a huge scandal, but it was your business.

You busied yourself with small tasks—folding laundry, wiping down the counters, pretending that everything was fine. It wasn’t until almost noon that your phone rang. The hospital’s number flashed on the screen, and your stomach dropped.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Miss Thornton?” the voice on the other end asked politely, too polite for comfort.

“This is she."

“This is Linda from the hospital. I’m calling about your recent bloodwork. We had a bit of an issue with our system, and unfortunately, there was a delay in getting back to you. We also lost some patient information temporarily—”

“Wait, what?” you interrupted, not liking where this was going, “What do you mean you lost information?”

“Oh, nothing to worry about,” Linda said quickly, as if that would make you feel better. “We managed to recover most of it, but in the meantime, we had to rely on emergency contact information to reach out. Dr. Harris called yours last night.”

Your breath caught. “Called... my emergency contact?”

“Yes.”

“Sarah Cameron? She didn’t tell me someone called.”

“She’s not listed as your emergency contact in our system, Rafe Cameron is. It might be an older record?”

Fuck.

Your heart was in your throat. “What... what did he tell him?”

“He only left a generic message asking for you to follow up about your bloodwork. Nothing specific.”

“Nothing specific,” you repeated, more to yourself than to her. Relief and panic warred within you. If Rafe knew, he’d already be there, the night before, demanding answers. Right?

“We need you to come back in. It’s possible you may have an infection, and we need to run a few more tests.”

You didn’t even hear the rest of her explanation.

Your fingers felt numb as you mumbled something that vaguely resembled agreement and hung up.

Infection, that was what she’d said. That was all it was. Not… not anything else. If it were anything else, they wouldn’t have just called—they’d have told Rafe.

“Stop,” you muttered aloud, shaking your head. “Stop spiraling.”

But your brain wouldn’t listen.

“Generic message,” Linda had said, but did it sound generic? What did he think when he got it? Had he laughed it off, or was he running his stupid pristine bedroom, piecing together clues you hadn’t even realized you’d left?

You didn’t want to text Sarah again.

You could imagine her smirking, “I told you, he’s not going to magically grow psychic overnight.” Yeah, sure, but this was Rafe.

He didn’t need magic. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to focus on Sarah’s voice in your head. “You’re not doing anything wrong.”

Except it didn’t feel like that. You hadn’t thought about Rafe as your emergency contact in months, hadn’t needed to.

You sank into the couch, hugging your knees to your chest.

“This is so stupid,” you muttered, but your voice didn’t make it feel any less real. You weren’t even sure what you were spiraling over anymore. The envelope? The hospital? The baby?

“Okay,” you said out loud. “Okay, it’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

The sound of your voice didn’t even convince you. Your brain wouldn’t stop jumping from one thing to the next, spinning every scenario you didn’t want to think about.

What if he did know? If that was enough to set him off, to make him call someone, pull some strings...Shit, what if he did show up, and you had to explain why you were dodging everyone and keeping things from him and—stop.

Stop.

You were doing it again. The spiraling. The pregnancy brain Sarah teased you about like it was some sort of cute quirk, but wasn’t cute.

You sat up straight, squeezing the couch pillow so hard you thought it might burst. Breathe. Just breathe, you’d made it this far without imploding.

You glanced toward the drawer again, the one with the envelope. You should’ve burned it, shredded it first. No, you had to keep it—just in case. But just in case of what? Just in case you needed more reasons to feel like a lunatic.

Oh my god. What if Topper saw the stupid number, and then Rafe got the hospital call, and then—bam—suddenly, they had the whole damn thing figured out?

You could feel it already—the panic. You liked to think they were both too stupid for their own good, but they were also observant. Rafe, that bastard always knew how to put things together faster than anyone.

What if—what if it’s that simple for them? What if they both saw it, and then they were just sitting there, having some stupid-ass conversation, connecting dots you didn’t even realize were dots?

No. Stop. Stop thinking like that.

You were getting carried away, jumping to conclusions like some manic soap opera character. You weren’t that girl. Not really. But the thought of them talking—Topper with his concern and Rafe with his overbearing intensity.

Your fingers tapped a frantic rhythm against the pillow. The idea of him figuring it out? Oh, that made your skin crawl. Not because he’d be cruel—no, that wasn’t his style. He’d just be so… himself.

Overwhelming, determined to “fix” things for you, even when you didn’t ask for it.

You groaned, dropping the pillow and standing abruptly, like the movement might kill the growing dread. No, you told yourself firmly.

You weren’t spiraling over things that hadn’t even happened yet.

But the voice in your head, the one that always sounded a little too much like Rafe, had other plans: What if it’s already too late?

You paced the living room, arms crossed tightly over your chest. This was ridiculous, you were ridiculous. Nothing had happened, nothing was going to happen. The number wasn’t even that suspicious, it could’ve been anything.

You groaned again, flopping onto the couch like the dramatic mess you were currently embodying. Rafe had probably gotten the hospital call, rolled his eyes without a second thought, too busy with his new precious life.

Your stomach churned, and you pressed your hands against it instinctively. It wasn’t showing yet—thank god—but you couldn’t help the way your mind spiraled back to it, to all the ways this could go wrong.

You grabbed your car keys without thinking, maybe it would clear your head. A drive—that’s what you needed. Get out of the house, and put some distance between you and the stupid envelope, the phone calls, all of it. You turned the knob, yanked the door open—

—and froze.

Rafe’s hand was raised mid-air, clearly about to knock. You didn’t even try to hide the way your breath hitched.

Oh, no. No, no, no.

Standing there on the porch like he hadn’t just derailed your entire plan. As if it was still perfectly normal for him to show up unannounced, one hand shoved into his pocket and the other gripping his phone, his head tilted in a maddeningly familiar way.

His hand hovered uncertainly on the doorframe as you stepped back, your arms folding protectively over your chest. He didn’t push past you, didn’t move his weight forward—just stood there.

He glanced down at the spare key still in his hand, turning it over like he was considering whether he even had the right to use it. “They called me last night.”

Okay, he was just here because of the hospital, a coincidence, that’s all it was.

“And? You could’ve ignored it.”

His hand flexed at his side like he didn’t know what to do with it. “I thought something might be wrong.”

“It’s not.” Your voice was clipped, cold. “They called the wrong number. End of story.”

He didn’t rise to the bait.

“I thought—” He cut himself off, exhaling sharply. “I thought you were sick.”

“Like I said, it was a mix-up.”

His jaw ticked. That tiny muscle in his cheek twitched, the one that always flared when he was suspicious.

“Funny, they didn’t sound mixed up when they said your name,” he drawled, his tone probing. “Wanna try again?”

“Mind your fucking business,” Your voice was defensive, and you hated the crackle of guilt in your chest when he flinched. “I don’t need you to pretend to care. Why are you even here?” you snapped, taking a step back. The space between you felt vulnerable. “Don’t you have someone else to worry about?"

You felt cornered with every second he stood there.

“We need to talk.”

Maybe if you acted calm, like nothing was wrong, he’d stop looking at you like that. Vulnerability wasn’t something you were good at, he’d already taken too much. He always took too much.

“I don’t owe you shit. Not explanations, not answers, nothing. Leave.”

He didn’t. Of course, he didn’t.

Rafe didn’t know how to let shit go, not when it came to you, he didn’t back away.

“You’re right,” he said, surprising you. “You don’t, but I’m not leaving until we talk.”

The way he said, it wasn’t even a threat. It was worse than that. It was calm, resolute, like he’d already decided, and nothing you said or did could change it.

That scared you more than anything.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you hissed, “Whatever you think you know, you don’t.”

He arched an eyebrow, his eyes flicking to the edge of the couch where your phone still sat, “You sure about that?”

“God, you’re always like this. Always overstepping, always assuming—”

“I know."

All the noise in your head—your spiraling thoughts, your excuses, your endless denials—went silent, except for the way your heart thudded in your chest, so fast, it hurt. He hadn’t raised his voice, but those two words hit you like a kick to your chest.

No, he couldn’t—he didn’t, he was bluffing, he had to be. Air caught in your throat, and for a moment, you thought you might choke on it. He didn’t move, didn’t repeat himself. He couldn’t know.

Your tongue went dry.

“What are you talking about?” You couldn’t breathe. It felt like someone was squeezing your chest. You shook your head again, more violently this time, stepping back, “You don’t know shit.”

“I think I do.” His voice was quiet, and that made it worse, it wasn’t cold or angry; it wasn’t even accusing. He didn’t sound like he wanted to be right, he just sounded tired.

You prayed to come up with something—anything—to deflect, to deny, to keep the truth buried where it belonged.

“You’re delusional,” you took another step back, putting more space between you and the man who had always known you too well.

He just shook his head, “You don’t have to lie to me, you’re scared, you’re not even trying to hide it.”

It was the way he stared with those stupid blue eyes, he was peeling back your layers. He always did that, made you feel like he could see something in you that you weren’t ready to acknowledge.

“Oh, fuck off.” You threw your hands up. “You don’t know shit about what I’m feeling. You’ve got no right to—I’m not lying.”

It still hurt how much you missed him, hurt to even look at him.

“Don’t pull this cryptic bullshit with me, if you’ve got something to say, say it.”

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

The thing you’d been running from, denying, hiding, you simply stared at him, trying to decide if there was any way to lie your way out of this.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You tried to laugh, but it came out strangled, desperate. “T-That’s insane. You’ve lost your mind.”

Rafe wasn’t gloating or triumphant—he just looked… resigned, he’d pieced it together before he showed up.

“Don’t do that. Don’t lie to me, not about this.”

You wanted to scream, to shove him, to do anything that would make him stop looking at you like he cared. Like he knew you. Because if you stopped long enough to think about it, you knew it was over.

He’d already seen it.

“I mean it, Rafe.” Your hand tightened on the door, nails digging into the wood. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

God, this was so fucked. You wanted him gone, but wanted him here, needed him to leave you alone, but at the same time, you hated that he could just leave.

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

You thought about what he’d do if he knew—really knew. Not just the vague sense he had now, but the details. Would he try to stop you?

Your lip quivered, and you hated yourself for it. “You’re wrong.”

You stared at him, at the way his shoulders hunched slightly, his usual confidence worn down. You hated him for being calm for once in his fucking life, for being here, for not letting this slide when it was none of his fucking business.

“Am I?”

Your hands clenched tighter, nails biting into your palms. “Why? Why do you even care? It’s not like you—”

“Because it’s mine.”

Your breath hitched again, and this time, you couldn’t hide it. You wanted to deny it, to throw something—hell, anything—back at him to make him shut the fuck up. But your throat felt like it had shut off entirely, and your mind had gone blank.

“I—” you stammered, shaking your head violently, “No. You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re—”

“Hey, hey, just—just stop,” he said, his voice careful, as if he was trying not to spook you. “I’m not—Jesus, I’m not here to fight with you, okay? I’m not here to make this harder.”

Your chest heaved, a bitter laugh escaping before you could stop it. He was too late—late to care, late to help, late to fix anything. Five days, that’s all you had to get through.

Five days until you didn’t have to think about it anymore.

This is the right choice, you told yourself for the hundredth time. You couldn’t bring a baby into this mess.

“You’re doing a hell of a job at that.”

“I just want to help. If you let me—”

“No,” you interrupted, grabbing the edge of the door. “I’m fixing it.”

“Fixing—?” Rafe’s brow furrowed, his confusion almost comical He started to step forward, but you stopped him with a resentful glare that made him stop. “What does that even mean?”

“It means you can take your fake concern and shove it up your ass.”

His brow furrowed. “It’s not fake—” His face twisted in confusion, mouth opening like he was about to argue, but you didn’t give him the chance, slamming the door in his face, so hard the frame rattled.

“Of course. Of course, it’s mine,” you muttered to yourself, mocking his stupid, self-righteous tone.

You leaned back against the door, sliding to the floor, arms crossed over your knees as your brain whirred like it was trying to kill you.

It wasn’t like you had a choice.

Technically, you did, but what were you supposed to do? Keep it and become a tragic sob story? The words almost felt like you’d ripped them out of someone else’s mouth, right or wrong didn’t even matter anymore. There wasn’t space in your life for this—for him, for a baby, for any of it.

A muffled knock sounded from the front door—tentative, like he was giving you a moment.

“Go away,” you yelled, your voice hoarse.

“Open the door.”

Your thoughts taunted you with memories and possibilities you didn’t want to entertain. The way Rafe had looked at you—like he knew—it was unbearable.

How had he put it together? Maybe you'd slip up in tiny ways, leaving a trail of breadcrumbs for him to follow. You hated yourself for being so careless, despised him even more for being so fucking relentless.

You wiped your cheeks roughly, not realizing you’d started crying until your sleeve came back damp.

“Please, just open the door. We can talk—just talk, okay?

“No,” you muttered to the empty room. “No, I’m not doing this.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, leaning your head back against the door and pressing your hands over your ears to block him out.

“Don’t shut me out like this,” he begged. “I can’t—fuck, I can’t stand it when you do this. Just open the door. Five minutes, that’s all I’m asking.”

He had a key. If he wanted to, he could let himself in at any moment, but he didn’t, that wasn’t the Rafe you were used to.

Before, he'd have barged right in, shouted until your ears bled, and demanded answers. He would’ve tried to fix it or destroy it, maybe both.

You hated that he still acted like he cared, that he was trying to be so fucking reasonable now, when just a few months ago, he would’ve lost it, broken through any barrier to get what he wanted.

This was worse, this Rafe was wearing you down.

Another hushed plea made it through the door, but all you could think was how thin the wood felt, how it barely drowned the sound of his voice. A new door might be better, something heavier, more solid, that could drown out everything—the desperation, the crack in his voice.

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, and you bit hard on the inside of your cheek to keep them from falling.

“I know you’re scared,” he continued, “And I know you think I’ll screw this up—God knows I probably will. But please don’t keep me in the dark. Just tell me what’s going on.”

You pictured flipping through hardware store catalogs, weighing your options: oak? steel? soundproofing foam?

“Please,” Rafe whispered, and the rawness in his voice scraped against you like nails on a chalkboard. You tilted your head back against the door, willing yourself not to cry again.

Steel doors don’t warp as easily as wood.

You swallowed hard, your body aching as you fought the sob threatening to escape. He didn’t deserve this—didn’t deserve to sound so wrecked over you. He'd done this to himself.

Your fingers twitched against the door handle, the temptation to open it curling around you, but instead, you thought about bolts.

Deadbolts, a second lock could work, something he couldn’t get through even if he had the key.

His voice wavered again, you thought he might start crying, too, yet all you did was glance at the base of the door. A better seal would muffle the noise more. Maybe weatherstripping? That could help.

You pressed your hands tighter over your ears, as though it would help. It didn’t. Nothing would—not until you replaced the lock, the door, the memory of him standing there and breaking himself open for you.

God, you really needed a new door—and a new heart.

One that didn’t twist at the sound of his voice, that didn’t flinch every time he called your name like it was a prayer. A heart that didn’t feel for him, you told yourself, over and over, like a mantra. If you could just stop the way your chest tightened at his pleas, stop the ache in your ribs when he said he couldn’t let this go.

You wanted steel walls, that could keep everything out—his voice, his touch, the memories of all the good parts of him that had kept you hanging on for so long. Because of this heart? It was useless, too soft, too easily swayed, still willing to believe him, even when you knew better.

“Please, just talk to me,” Rafe begged. You bit your lip hard enough to taste blood.

You couldn’t help but wonder if this calmness came from Sofia.

Perhaps she was the reason he’d changed, maybe she had somehow made him different, had softened the sharp edges of the guy you used to know. She was calm, collected—nothing like you. It hurt like a bitch, the thought that someone else could make him this patient. You wondered if she’d taught him how to handle his emotions, how to be this way—he’d learned some secret he never bothered to share with you.

You couldn't let yourself go there, couldn't let the bitterness of that thought settle in your mind for too long.

“Talk to me.”

No. Not this time.

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige

@rafebb @rafesbby @whytheylosttheirminds

@zyafics @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron

@serrendiipty @sunny1616 @yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog

@psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei

@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2

@starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

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meimei-archives · 7 months ago

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POLAROID LOVER:: Rafe cameron

WARNING! :: naked pictures, pictures during sex, smoking (weed) kissing, riding, unprotected sex, teasing, friends to lovers, stoner! best friend!rafe.

SUMMARY! :: after dropping his lighter under the bed Rafe accidentally comes across an old box with a camera inside and decides he wants to have a photoshoot.

A/N:: two posts in one day??? I’m raw asf frl, no but I just really need to start posting often but it be so mf hard to stay focused when I write cause I be getting high WHILE writing😔….

Music played as both you and Rafe laid on his bed, the smell of weed taking over your senses as this was the third blunt in an hour you both had smoked. Your eyes were low and glossed over, you let the burning blunt sit between your lips and inhale the strong smoke.

You felt your lungs burning as you held in the smoke. Handing it off to the boy who was equally as high next to you seeing him stare at the ceiling as he hits the blunt as well. Turning over abruptly he hangs over the side of the bed and reaches under his bed his hands reach around as his hand finds a box he pulls it out in confusion before he picks it up and sets it on his sheets.

Digging through the box the sound of rumbling could be heard over the music, feeling for the familiar pair of glasses and camera. He clutched them both in his grasp and pulled them from under the rest of the junk he found with a lazy grin. “Why the fuck do you have a box under your bed? And why is there so much shit in it?” You ask but Rafe doesn’t dwell much on it.

Rafe had the bright idea that came to his fried out mind "lay down I wanna take pictures of you" he says as his hand gently pushes down on your midriff, you lean back until you're in the position that he was once in before he was sitting on his knees as they dig into the mattress , moving his legs to straddle over your stomach.

Your shirt riding up your stomach caught the eye of Rafe who had a small smile on his lips, his brain practically short circuits as his large hand pushes your shirt up over your chest revealing your pace bra with a bow sewn into the middle.

Waving it around you opens your eyes to look at the blonde who had still been towering above you. His eyes darken as he looked down on you with those sweet doe eyes looking back up at him like a deer in headlights and he loved every single second of it.

Dropping the camera on the mattress his hands pull your shirt over your head and toss it into the carpeted floor. "Rafe" you say just above a whisper at how bold the boy had become. "Pose" he whispered back, picking up the camera, the tension in the air becoming thicker by the moment.

Pushing yourself on your forearms you look up at the lens your eyes drain from the bright flash, again the camera spits out the picture. Pulling it out this time Rafe didn't look at the picture he put the camera down and took his own shirt off laying next to you with a smile on his face.

You felt your body flush as your shoulders rub against each other. Lifting the camera above both of your faces Rafe looked over at you who had already been looking at him. Your eyes are red and glossy as your eyelashes cast a shadow on your cheeks.

Letting out a small groan Rafe's hand makes way to the belt loop of your jeans, hooking two fingers inside and pulling your hips closer against his. Your bra covered chest pushes against his naked one while your hand finds his hair, entangling your fingers and shamelessly moaning into his mouth.

The flash of the camera goes off making you pull away with hesitation written all over your face, Rafe pulling back to see the picture develop and show up with a frame of you and him swapping saliva and shoving your tongues down each other's throats.

You could see the tent in his jeans starting to grow "I'm gonna hang these up all over my room" he mumbled content how they came out . His words make your thighs push together at the thought of Rafe having such intimate pictures of you and him being seen by your friends in his room. But you aren't as slick as you hoped to be. Rafe caught the way your knees and thighs pushed together at his words making the small boyish grin on his lips turn into a smirk.

Looking back over at you both still high, Rafe couldn't help but ask "you wanna keep going?" You could pounce on the boy at any moment seeing as his hair was now messy, his lips now swollen with your lipgloss smeared on them, and his labored breathing making his chest rise and fall more noticeably. You nod your head looking him in his icy blue eyes with adoration and lust "I want you to fuck me" you say loud enough for him but just above a whisper in the silent room.

Your words make Rafe twitch in his boxers. Letting out a groan his head falls back "you're gonna fucking kill me" he said as his cock aches within the confinements of his tight boxers and pants.

You let out small moans at the feeling of his teeth brushing against your sensitive spot that makes you shiver and your hand entangle in his messy blonde locks. His thumb rubbing against your bottom lip, you open your mouth letting the harsh pad of his thumb press against your tongue.

Sucking on his thumb Rafe groaned as the feeling of your warm mouth engulfing his finger, he couldn't help but imagine how good you would look with his cock on your tongue instead of his thumb. Kissing a trail down your neck to your chest.

Licking a stripe on one of your nipples you roll your hips at the feeling. But as soon as he pulled away you whine, "sit on my lap" he says in a low tone.

Catching a glimpse of the look on his face as the both of you shift until Rafe's back presses against the headboard. Pulling his jeans down and tossing them on the floor he looks up expectantly waiting for you to pull yours off as well.

Understanding without saying a word you pull them off discarding them with his as well. Leaving you in your panties that were sticking to you with a small wet patch seeping through the thin fabric.

Crawling into his lap you press your ass down on his bulge with no regard earning you a choked moan. You could feel as if your pussy practically stuck to the wet fabric of your panties while you grind your hips against him.

"You feel so good" you whimper hearing the sticky sounds of your slick thighs rubbing together, it was messy yet the both of you were too eager chasing some form of an orgasm to care what kind of mess you make.

Your hand moves around the mattress to find the camera as you look down at Rafe whose head was thrown back while he lets out the deepest groans of pleasure. His hands guiding your hips against his at a faster pace makes you choke out louder moans.

"Fuck" he whispered harshly as you finally find the camera and holding the camera up you place your eye close to the view finder as you point the lens at a dazed Rafe who was on cloud 9.

Pressing down on the shutter button the flash finally goes off making Rafe open his eyes and look up at you, "you looked too good" you whisper placing one of your hands down on his lower abdomen as you feel Rafe buck his hips into you faster.

You gasp feeling yourself being sent over the edge, Rafe begins to slow down but you only shake your head as you anticipate him reaching his peak. "Please keep going, I want you to cum" you moan as your nails drag against his skin leaving behind a trail of red marks.

Your needy words make his eyes roll back as he pushes your hips down, he ruts into you as he moans shamelessly. Rafe had no idea if it was just the weed or if your pussy had fucking magic but your sweet moans and the sloppy sounds send him into a spiral of pleasure.

His cum seeps through his boxers as his hips twitch in a bit of overstimulation he didn't care, his hips slow down and then stop completely as he feels himself slowly coming back down to earth.

Pushing you off his thighs Rafe gently pushes you down into the sheets pulling your panties down and sliding them off your ankle he discards them. The view of your pussy practically shining in all its wet glory. Rafe was desperate. To touch, taste and fill you up in so many ways he couldn't even think straight.

His hands unclip your bra watching your breasts spill out of the fabric and padding. Discarding it his hands palm your chest as leans down to lick your sensitive nipples making you let out a small moan.

Nobody had ever made you feel so good just by barely touching. Until Rafe had decided to drag his face down your stomach, littering small kisses on your sweet supple skin until he stopped at the place you needed him most.

Kissing down your inner thigh sucking hickeys into your skin you shiver at the feeling of his warm tongue giving your puffy lips a small lick. Whispering a curse under his breath he licks again this time he is much more confident.

Groaning against you sent vibrations all over as you let out a small giggle that broke into a moan feeling the harsh pad of his thumb rub against your clit while his tongue worked to push inside you.

The sounds you make are music to his ears. He presses his nose on your clit, inhaling your scent deeply before his tongue dives inside your waiting pussy. You pull onto his hair, writhing against his face. "Feels so good Rafe" you moan as you roll your hips against his face.

Pulling away his thumb Rafe flattens his tongue against you licking from your entrance to your clit again, kissing it he sucks harshly on the bud with no regard as you moan his name mindlessly.

"Oh fuck" you manage to whimper out you tug at his hair as he groaned, your eyes shut as you "please use your fingers" you moan neediness dripping from your tone.

His hand moving from your plush thigh, his thumb rubbing harsh circles on your clit, he pulled away, licking your clit once more his middle and ring fingers make way to your entrance.

Pushing in slowly you groan at the penetration, easing your tight walls around his thick fingers as he pushes them deeper you feel the cool metal on his rings all the way at the knuckles of his fingers as it grounds you from the euphoric feeling.

"Feels so good Rafe" you cry out hoping to god he wouldn't stop the rewarding pace he had set. Your hips involuntarily buck against his fingers as his assault of pleasure on your pussy consumed you whole.

"I'm close" you whine as the sloshing sound and the sound of you and Rafe's mixed heavy breathing had been the only thing you could hear "yeah, you gonna cum all over my fingers?" He asks teasingly as his tongue licks a long stripe against your clit that had the feeling in the pit of your stomach churning in anticipation for your orgasm.

"So good" he hummed as he fucks you through your high slowing down as he kisses your clit that's now sensitive making you writhed under him. "Doing so good for me" he giggled as he pulled away from you kissing your thighs as if he was rewarding you.

Pulling them away he leans in to kiss you letting his tongue brush over yours to taste yourself. The smell of weed and whatever sweet smelling perfume he had on sent you into a spiral of neediness. "Want' you to fuck me so bad" you mumble against his lips.

His hands move to either side of your head as he looks down on you with complete adoration in his eyes. Pushing deeper inside you he lets out a moan "fuck you feel so good" he says as he catches his bottom lip in between his teeth.

"You're so big" you slur seeing how good he filled you up to the brim your arms wrap around his neck your foreheads pressed together as you watch him begin to slowly move. Rafe couldn't get enough of the sight as his cock disappeared inside your Pussy.

"Oh- god" you whisper shakily. His hands holding onto your hips guiding a pace, the soft sound of skin slapping with your small moans could be heard throughout the room.

You looked so good with your chest bouncing and your hair all messy. You looked good with a small sheen of sweat on your skin and your makeup smeared, he was addicted to the sight.

Rafe; eager to let his load off inside you, holds your thighs stopping you from bouncing any longer and begins to thrust his hips into you. The feeling of his tip pushing at your cervix.

His hips piston into you as your thighs and ass jiggle at the repetitive thrusts "right there!" You moan as you feel him pounding in a certain part of your walls. You tighten around him as your essence forms a white ring around the base of his dick. "Just like that! I just want you to come inside me" you babble mindlessly as his stomach churns at the words spewing out.

"Yeah? Want me to fill you up with my cum?" he groans as the knot in your stomach begins to tighten and Rafe's death grip on the fat of your thighs almost sends you over the edge if it wasn't for how hard he was pounding you.

Leaning down to him , your moans against each other's lips push you closer and closer. Your back is arching as you move faster wanting to cum so badly "keep going. Don't stop" he groaned, letting his head fall back.

You nod as you let your moans fall past your lips, the sensation building more and more until it became to overwhelming you gasp "I'm gonna cum" you whine as your hips fall more hastily on him, his moans mixed with yours as he drowned in the feeling of your walls spasming around him pushing him completely over the edge.

"Fuck" he groaned as warm spurts of cum filled you, grinding down and letting the cum spill past your walls and down the base of his cock you hum as your content with your orgasm.

And just as fast as all of this began- it ended with you pulling off of Rafe and laying down beside him, your chests both slowly riding and falling, you turn your head over to him with low red eyes, he meets your gaze "want me to re-light the blunt?" You ask with a smirk.

#meimei archives 𖥔 ͙ࣳ ⸰ֺ ⭑ ఌ #obx smut #rafe cameron #rafe fanfiction #rafe imagine #rafe smut #rafe x reader #drew starkey x reader #outer banks smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x black!reader

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no-144444 · 7 months ago

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mixup- o.piastri

summary: oscar gets a bit jelly when you and franco get close

pairing: oscar piastri x fem! reader

a/n: for the person on my last post who wanted the photo of mark webber with his grippers out (just put the fries in the bag) here is two!

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When Oscar saw you for the first time, he was slightly stunned into silence. He knew who you were, everyone in McLaren did. You were one of the board member’s daughters, and you knew everyone. You were friends with everyone, you knew every driver on the grid, everyone. Except Oscar. He’d somehow side stepped your friendship despite you knowing every other driver on the F1 grid, F2 grid, and F3 grid.

Anyway, he was in love with you, and that’s all that mattered. You befriended him in his first year, but you’d only been around sporadically in the 2024 season, and when you were there, all of your time was spent catching up with all the other drivers, and Oscar could only steal so much of your time. That didn’t mean that you two didn’t text though. You and him had months and months of ‘friendly’ texts, and on more than one occasion he’d almost be driven to send the dreaded ‘what are we?’ text, but thankfully, Logan usually stopped him.

He did not like the way you were talking with Franco and had been for a while. He was touching your arm, you were laughing at something he said, and Oscar couldn’t control the frown on his face.

“Jesus christ mate, he’s actually going to get hurt if you don’t stop staring daggers at him,” Lando joked.

“I’m not,” Oscar huffed, getting on with eating his lunch.

“Have you asked her out yet?” Lando asked, and Oscar just… avoided eye contact. “Come on mate! She’s never going to say yes to you if you don’t actually ask her!”

“Well, she’s also never going to say no, if I don’t ask her,” Oscar pointed out, purposefully waving a piece of salmon much too close for Lando’s comfort.

Lando pushed his fork back. “She’s not going to say no!”

“Hey Y/n!” Zak called, sitting at the table next to them.

“Hey Zak,” you smiled. It was an easy, gentle smile, the kind that drove Oscar crazy.

“Where have you been all day?” he mused, an eyebrow raised as he looked between you and Franco, who was slowly walking abc to Williams.

“I was with Franco, actually,” you explained. “I told him I’d never been at the circuit before so he gave me a tour of the entire paddock, and of Williams. I met all of his mechanics and all, it was great!”

He chuckled. “So when’s the wedding?”

You scoffed. “It’s not like that, well… it kind of is. We’re apparently going on a date so, we shall see!” you admitted, a nervous smile on your lips.

Oscar and Lando locked eyes. Oscar’s were full of shock and panic, whereas Lando’s were full of amusement.

“Y/n!” Lando called, alerting half the canteen. “I thought you were with Oscar?”

Oscar had one thought:

Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop.

But he didn’t. Oscar buried his face in his hands as Lando stood there, digging him a deeper hole. He would’ve rather just lived out his friend-zoned life and still be your friend, but with the way Lando was rambling on, he would be lucky fi there wasn’t a fucking restraining order.

“And like… all the texts and stuff! I thought you two were hitting it off, they seemed pretty flirty to me! And I’m an expert on that type of thing. And he’s like… in love with you or whatever, and you like him too! Isn’t he pretty! You told me he was pretty once when you were drunk, don’t deny that!”

You stood there with an amused smile on your lips. “I think if Oscar was actually in love with me, he would’ve made a move by now,” you chuckled before walking off, but not before ruffling Oscar’s hair. Oscar was bright red. Bright red. Once you were out of ear-shot, the entire canteen was laughing at the situation. Mark clapped a hand on his back.

“That went over about as well as a dead horse,” he chuckled. Oscar shook his head, smiling despite himself.

“I’m fucked,” he sighed. “I fucked it up. She’s going out with Franco.”

Mark shook his head. “Not if you confess now.”

Oscar stared at him, waiting for an explanation.

Mark rolled his eyes. “The girl is mad about you!” Oscar groaned but Mark shushed him. “Seriously! She adores you. You just need to ask her out! Fuck Franco, he’s a newbie, you’ve been his friend for 2 years now, and Lando isn’t wrong, those texts are flirty!”

Oscar looked at Mark, unimpressed, but then turned to Lando (who had a very big smile on his face, awaiting a ‘thank you’) with a scowl. He got up and brought his lunch with him. “Neither of you are helpful!”

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Somehow, he ended up in your hotel room at the end of the night, his lips on yours. He hadn’t told anyone about this. Whatever it was, he wanted it to be his and yours only. No teasing comments from Lando, no ‘advice’ from Mark. It had started a few months ago, one drunken night that led to too much, but neither of you stopped. Neither of you were drunk the second time it happened, and since then you’d been hooking up every now and then, just to relieve stress.

“Osc,” you mumbled against his lips. He smiled. You'd been making out for about 40 minutes, and the nights either ended with mind blowing sex (with the girl he was in love with), or a movie and sleeping in your bed. Win-win either way. You straddled him against the headframe, his shirt already off and you in your bra and sleep shorts, he was kind of hoping for the first one.

“Hm?” he muttered, never pulling away. Having his hands on you, your hands on him, it felt good.

You pulled back with a nervous expression, and he stilled. Had he done something to upset you? Had he gone too far?

“You weren’t upset today,” you stated.

He stared at you, slightly confused. “Yes?”

You frowned. “You really don’t actually like me, do you?” you chuckled, but it wasn’t a real chuckle. It was too sad to be your chuckle, and the way you pushed yourself off his lap and held your legs to your chest.

He panicked. How was he supposed to explain the 2 years of yearning he’d partaken in? “I’m in love with you,” he blurted out, and your eyes widened, so he just buried his face in his hands again. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean-”

You laughed. Your real, gorgeous laugh. “I love you too.”

He ripped his hands away from his face. “But Franco-?”

“I was trying to make you jealous!” you scoffed. He rolled his eyes.

“Why didn’t you just talk to me?”

“Why didn't you just talk to me?!” you accused, and you both just started laughing at how stupid you both were.

“Come here,” he told you. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as he pressed soft kisses to your neck. “I’m really fucking glad you tried to make me jealous today.”

“Did it work?” you giggled.

“Very much so,” he admitted, biting into the side of your neck hard enough to make you let out a squeak, which made you both laugh.

You turned to him, running a hand through his unruly hair. You pressed your lips to his.

“I love you,” he confessed (again). You smiled.

“I love you too.”

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

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kxsagi · 2 months ago

Note

i am back with another request >:3

how would the bllk men try and comfort reader when they tell her that they hate her as a joke but reader believes it because she thinks she’s very easy to hate and no one really likes her. so being in a relationship with them is surprising. can you include the itoshi brothers, kaiser, ness and whoever else you want pls 🙏🏾 tyty

“𝐢'𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰”

a/n: daily reminders that my fine shyt readers are absolutely lovable and worthy of all of the love in the world + more

ft. itoshi rin, itoshi sae, kaiser michael, ness alexis, mikage reo, bachira meguru, shidou ryusei, nagi seishiro, isagi yoichi

itoshi rin

he says it with a deadpan tone during a teasing moment, like when you steal his fries or call him a loser for using google maps.

“ugh. i hate you.” it’s dry, automatic, and you laugh, or so he thinks.

but then he sees the flicker in your eyes. the way your posture drops just slightly.

“.. .oh,” he blurts, realizing too late.

rin’s not good with panic, so he short-circuits at first. it’s in his nature to brood and analyze, but now he’s scrambling to fix it.

“wait, wait no. i don’t hate you. are you serious?” he pulls you close, gripping your waist like he’s grounding both of you.

he’s quiet, sincere. “i don’t say things i don’t mean. i would never say i hated you if i meant it. you know that, right?”

when you tell him you’re just surprised anyone could love you, rin’s face changes.

“... what the hell are you talking about?” his voice cracks, barely above a whisper. “how could you think you’re hard to love? you’re the best thing in my entire life.”

he doesn’t leave your side the whole day. hand in yours. lips on your forehead. he needs you to feel how much he doesn’t hate you and how much he can’t.

itoshi sae

he says “i hate you” with a half-smirk when you win a bet or outsmart him. something casual, barely a breath.

you laugh it off, but he notices you retreat, go quiet.

he’s not slow, sae’s emotionally perceptive under all that apathy.

“... you know i didn’t mean that, right?” he asks, eyes flicking to you while he’s scrolling on his phone.

you brush it off, but he puts the phone down. “look at me.”

his tone is even, but his eyes are gentle. “you think i’m the type to date someone i don’t actually care about?”

when you admit it’s just hard to believe someone like him could love someone like you, sae physically flinches.

“don’t ever say that again,” he murmurs, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it.

“you’re kind. you’re funny. you’re smart. i could go on, but i’d rather just keep showing you why you’re everything i want.”

after that, he doesn’t just say he loves you more. he shows it. kisses on the shoulder. forehead touches. hand on your lower back whenever you pass by.

kaiser michael

he says it dramatically, mid-argument over something dumb like who left the toothpaste cap off.

“ugh, i hate you.” paired with the most flamboyant eye-roll.

you try to laugh, but your voice wavers. and he clocks it instantly.

“liebling?” he calls, voice dropping all theatrics.

when you hesitate, he goes from 100 to 0 in two seconds. arms already around you.

“hey. hey, no. i was joking. i thought we were being dramatic together.”

and when you say, “it’s fine. i get it. i wouldn’t like me either,” his whole world flips.

“what the fuck?” he says, not out of anger, but sheer heartbreak.

“baby, who told you that? who made you believe that?”

he cups your cheeks and leans in, forehead pressed to yours.

“you’re literally the only person on this earth who can put up with me. of course i like you. love you.”

for the next few weeks he’s overly sweet. he sings cheesy songs to you, buys you flowers, tells ness to remind you every hour that kaiser thinks you're amazing.

ness alexis

he says “i hate you” in a joking whine when you won’t let him pick the movie or steal the last cookie.

he doesn’t expect it to land. you always laugh.

but this time, he sees you shrink.

“noooo, nonono, i’m sorry!! i didn’t mean it!” he throws himself dramatically on top of you.

you try to laugh it off, but he sits up, real concern on his face.

“... did that really hurt your feelings?”

when you nod, even a little, ness pulls you into the biggest hug possible.

“you’re my favorite person in the entire universe,” he mumbles into your shoulder. “don’t ever think otherwise.”

when you admit that sometimes it’s just hard to believe someone could like you, he grips your hands.

“you’re funny, and warm, and thoughtful, and you give the best hugs. i’d be lost without you, okay?”

you get a whole night of comfort snacks, kisses, and cuddles while he reassures you in five different languages (he googled them).

mikage reo

says “ugh, i hate you” after you tease him about being rich or wearing expensive moisturizer.

when you don’t react, he blinks. pauses. “wait. baby?”

he gets serious fast. drops the playful persona.

when you confess you thought he might mean it, his expression falters.

“you know how many people love me for my money or my name?” he says, tone serious. “but you love me for me. that means everything.”

he’s the type to go all-out in comforting you. he immediately plans a spa day or a surprise picnic to cheer you up.

but at night, it’s just the two of you and he quietly whispers, “i wish you could see yourself the way i do.”

bachira meguru

jokes “i hate you” when you prank him or make fun of his monster drawings.

you laugh, but your face tightens just enough for him to notice.

“... wait. wait. do you think i meant that?”

when you shrug, he gets really quiet.

“hey.” he hugs you so tight, it’s like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. “i don’t hate you. i love you. i love you so much it freaks me out sometimes.”

he pulls you into his lap and holds your face. “you’re not hard to love. you’re the easiest thing i’ve ever loved.”

he’ll paint you a picture the next day. it says “i love you, silly” with a monster giving you a flower.

shidou ryusei

says it way too casually, like “ugh i hate you” when you block his goal or steal his protein bar.

but when you go still, quiet, he feels weird.

“... wait. you know i was messing around, right?”

you say, “it’s okay, i get it,” and he freezes.

“the hell do you mean, ‘you get it’? no, you don’t get to get it.”

shidou’s comfort is blunt, but honest. he sits you down, grabs your hand, and makes you look at him.

“you think i’d be dating you if i didn’t think you were the shit?”

“babe, i don’t do things i don’t want to. and i want you. period.”

then he wrestles you into a hug and bites your cheek gently like a weirdo. “mine. forever. you hear me?”

nagi seishiro

he says “i hate you” lazily when you drag him out of bed or interrupt his game.

it’s not even mean – just groggy, like, “ugh, i hate you for making me move.”

usually you laugh, but today? your face falls just slightly.

you try to play it off. he narrows his eyes.

“... wait. are you mad?” he asks, tilting his head.

when you finally admit it’s not the first time you’ve believed someone could hate you… nagi just stares.

and then says, “that’s dumb.”

not in a mean way — in a “how could anyone think that?” kind of way.

“you’re the only person i like being awake for,” he mumbles, flopping onto you like a weighted blanket.

“if you were easy to hate, i’d still be single and gaming in peace. but i’m not. i’m with you. because you make me feel happy in a way no game ever could.”

he clings tighter, like you’re a giant body pillow. and every few minutes he mumbles, “don’t ever think like that again.”

you end up staying in bed all day, not because he’s lazy, but because he won’t stop hugging you.

isagi yoichi

says “i hate you” jokingly when you beat him at a shooting game or call him a nerd for memorizing world cup stats.

it’s lighthearted… until your smile doesn’t reach your eyes.

“wait. hey. that was a joke,” he blurts, the second you shift away.

you tell him it’s fine, that you’re just used to not being liked, so it’s whatever.

“what?” he sounds like you just punched him. “no. no. you don’t get to say that about yourself.”

he sits you down, hands on your shoulders, looking frantic.

“you’re– okay, listen. i love you. i love you so much, and i don’t care if it sounds dramatic. how could you ever think you’re hard to love?”

his voice gets quieter, a little trembly. “i’ve never felt this way about anyone. you’re sweet and smart and you make me feel like i can breathe even when everything else is stressful.”

he hugs you for a long time. arms locked tight.

and for the next week, he texts you things like “i love you more than my right foot” or “if i had to pick between you and soccer… i’d pick you, no hesitation.”

okay, maybe a little hesitation. but he swears you win.

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libraryofgage · 3 months ago

Text

After checks calendar 84 years, I am once again offering Smart Steve content lmao

Listen the writer's block has been hitting recently if you couldn't tell, but I'm still happy with how this came out.

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't :P

----

So.

Steve Harrington is smart.

Like, smart smart.

Like, the kind of smart where he not only understands shit, he can explain complicated shit to Eddie without sending his brain into a coma.

It's been two weeks, and Eddie is still trying to come to terms with this discovery. He's four tutoring sessions in and a little spark of surprise still rocks him whenever Steve can easily explain a new topic using the stuff Eddie likes.

He explained velocity using D&D spells. He explained electrical circuits using the concept of plugging a guitar into an amp. After asking a few questions about Lord of the Rings, Steve Harrington managed to explain the in-depth concepts of magnetism using the fucking One Ring.

How the fuck is Eddie supposed to be normal about any of that? Ignoring the sheer fact that Steve is capable of it, how is Eddie supposed to feel about the...the willingness to learn what Eddie understands best and meet him on that level?

If the answer is awed and practically starstruck, he's ahead of the game.

"Hey, you doing okay? Kinda spacing out over there, man."

Eddie blinks, the textbook in front of him coming back into focus. Steve had been explaining the concept of momentum, but his words just floated in one ear and out the other because Eddie was once again consumed by the absurdity of the situation.

It's not like he can say that, though. So, instead, he settles for a grimace and pushes the textbook away. "I think I'm all fried out for physics," he says, looking up at Steve.

"Oh," Steve says, blinking a few times before nodding. "Yeah, sure, uh, sorry."

"Wait, what are you sorry about?"

Steve looks away, an awkward frown tugging at his lips. "I...probably wasn't explaining it too well, huh?"

"Woah, woah, no way," Eddie says, putting a stop to that train of thought before it can leave the station. He turns in his chair to face Steve directly, ignoring how the metal rod that attaches it to the desk digs painfully against his shin. "Listen, Stevie, I've never understood physics more than when you explain it. Like, I don't know, man, whatever you're doing works."

Steve must have been more worried than he let on, because Eddie can literally see the tension draining from his shoulders. "Great," he says, rubbing the back of his neck as he glances away. "Seriously, that's great. I'm glad nothing's been confusing."

"Yeah, so, nothing you did," Eddie says, feeling like he needs to reiterate that point to drive it home. "Honestly, you could probably even make me understand geometry. Not like our teacher is doing shit to help."

"Do you...not understand geometry?" Steve asks, looking a little unsure like he can't tell if that's a joke or Eddie's attempt at suggesting another class he needs help in. This one is a class they share, which means Steve will have seen Eddie's floundering attempts at answering questions, and he feels a whole new burn of embarrassment course through him.

"Do you?" Eddie asks in return.

"Yeah. It's just, like, angles and shit, man."

Eddie stares at him for a moment, eyes narrowing and trying to figure out if Steve is somehow, subtly, making fun of him. But of course he isn't. If Eddie has learned nothing else, it's that Steve doesn't ever think Eddie is actually stupid or deserving of ridicule. He just thinks Eddie hasn't been taught properly, which is more on the teacher than him.

After a moment, Eddie twists around to dig in his bag. He pulls out his geometry homework, slaps it on the desk, and gestures at the triangles and squares and other shapes with unidentified angles and side lengths. "I have literally no clue what the fuck is going on here," he says.

Steve moves closer, looking over the sheet with a slight frown. Eddie knows this face by now. It's the one Steve makes when he's searching for the relevant knowledge in his own brain, pulling it to the front so he can easily identify the gaps in Eddie's understanding. "So, how would you start?" Steve finally asks, offering his pencil.

Eddie takes it, twirls it between his fingers a few times, and looks over the questions. He eventually chooses one asking him to find the length of a side. "I know this one. It's the equation with the squares and shit," he says, carefully writing it out and plugging in numbers under the triangle.

"Right. Pythagorean theorem. A squared plus B squared equals C squared."

"Yeah. That," Eddie says, working through the math on a separate sheet of paper instead of in his head. He can do easy addition and subtraction, but one of the first things Steve did was get him used to using scratch paper. His brain doesn't feel quite as crowded by numbers anymore; now it's just crowded by the endless rotation of bites of knowledge and equations that have nothing to do with the work at hand. It's like his brain can recognize that it needs to remember something, but can't identify what exactly, so it just offers up everything.

When he's done, Eddie shows Steve his work, the answer circled at the bottom of the scratch paper. "Perfect," Steve says, flashing a smile that makes Eddie's heart lurch dangerously. "Okay, so that's solid. What about this one."

He points at a right triangle with only one angle listed and the other marked as unknown. "No fucking clue," Eddie says.

"This one is asking for the unknown angle. It'll just be some subtraction."

"It's only giving me one angle, Stevie," Eddie points out, gesturing to the angle marked as 53. "What the fuck do I do with that?"

"Well, the main thing is that a triangles angles will always add to 180. Also, this is a right triangle," Steve explains, taking the pencil from Eddie to circle the L-shaped corner of the triangle. "This angle will always be 90 degrees on right triangles. Should I keep going?"

"No," Eddie says slowly, drawing the word out as he takes the pencil back. "I'm starting to get it. Lemme try."

Steve waits patiently as Eddie hesitates before adding the angles together and subtracting that from 180. When he gets to a solution of 37, he gestures for Steve to check.

"That's right," Steve says, nodding as he points to another triangle on the sheet. "For this one, I'll teach you about the SOH CAH TOA trick."

Eddie nods, paying as much attention as he can, but he can't help feeling a little distracted by Steve's happy smile and relaxed posture. He's never seen Steve like this during class, and he's struck by the sudden notion that nobody else will see Steve like this, either.

------

When Steve gets home, he drops his bag in the hallway, grabs a soda from the kitchen, and collapses onto the couch.

A few National Geographic and Scientific American magazines are still spread out across the coffee table. A brief glance reminds Steve that none of the stories were particularly interesting in these editions.

He pops the tab on his soda, takes a sip, and glances at the phone on the end table next to him.

Steve had noticed something today. Eddie's shirt. Most of the band shirts Eddie wears are popular enough that Steve sort of knows them. Metallica, KISS, and AC/DC were recognizable since he's passed their albums on display in record stores.

Today's band, though. He didn't recognize that one. What the fuck was Manowar?

After a few seconds of thought, Steve reaches out and grabs the phone. He's just doing research. Wanting to understand the music Eddie likes is reasonable. That's how Eddie learns. There's no other reason for Steve dialing the number of an old classmate.

The phone rings a few times before picking up. "Amare residence," a girl says, sounding distracted.

"Hey, Dee. It's Steve."

"Hmm, Steve. Steve. ...Steeeeve. Oh, is this Steve Harrington, deserter of friends for the woes of public education?"

Despite everything, Steve can't help an amused smile. "Yeah, that Steve," he says. He doesn't apologize, since he knows that's not what she wants. If she was actually angry, she would've hung up.

"Well, how kind of you to grace me with your voice," Dee says, sounding distant like she's set the phone down. "I suppose I can give you until I finish braiding my hair."

"Great. You know about metal, right?"

"Like iron? Duh, Steve, I'm not thirteen."

"No, like, heavy metal."

"Iron is pretty heavy."

"Music, Dee. Heavy metal music."

"Oh! Aren't you a Tears for Fears kind of boy? What are you doing asking about heavy metal?"

Steve starts to answer but stops himself. He doesn't know why. Dee tutors kids all the time. Everyone in their private school group did. That's how they made money. She'd understand that he's trying to learn more about Eddie's interests for tutoring purposes.

So why can't he just say that?

"This long pause says you're thinking about lying to me," Dee says. "Don't bother, Steve."

"Well, I do want to know for the guy I'm tutoring. But not just because I'm tutoring him."

"Awww, are you trying to make a friend?" Dee teases.

Steve grimaces, wondering why his stomach twists slightly at the question. "Yeah, kind of. I want to know more about the stuff he likes. And he likes heavy metal. So, ya know, I thought of you."

"Well, you've come to the right place," Dee says. "And I love talking music, so I guess we can keep talking even after I'm done braiding."

A relieved smile tugs at Steve's lips. "Thanks, Dee, I appreciate it. So, first question, what's Manowar?"

-------

Tag List!

@estrellami-1, @ravenfrog,

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #smart steve harrington #anyone else remembering being taught SOH CAH TOA?#that shit lives rent free in my head cuz it's a weird little rhyme thing #also Dee is like one of those OCs that exists for three seconds #but has more lore behind her than you'd expect lmao #anyway thanks for reading this little dude i hope you enjoyed the soft steddie #and the math #lemme know if you'd like to be tagged ^_^#listen i wrote this and then didn't go back through for spelling errors #so genuinely this might be messier than usual i just wanted to get it to the people lmao

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