#all i can do now is listen to music to at least try to feel something again

[itneverendshere]

I love bartender!reader!!!!!! She seems so sweet and collected...but I was wondering if she's got a little fire in her? Maybe they're at a party together and she gets jealous......which is new because she's usually the calm one out of her and rafe. Hope you're doing great <3

loved writing this bc you're so right!!! it's just so not like her to lose her temper over trivial things but oh🫣 hope you're doing just a great as well💖

i'm usually so unproblematic - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) warnings: allusions to smut but no actual smut.

You’re sitting in Rafe’s truck, staring out at the huge house in front of you, stomach in knots. It’s a mansion, more like.

Kook house. Kook party. Rich people everywhere. You can already hear the distant thrum of music, even from inside the car, bass-heavy, vibrating through the seats.

You chew your bottom lip and glance over at Rafe. He’s calm, casually messing with the radio, probably about to put on those trashy songs he loves that you absolutely hate but pretend to like because you love him.

It's insane how easy it is for him to just... be cool about this. But you?

You’re not so sure.

"This was a bad idea," you mumble, half-joking but also half-serious.

Rafe turns to you, one eyebrow raised, lips pulling into a crooked smile. “Nervous?”

You give him a look. “Obviously. I’m not...I don’t do these things. I don’t know these people.”

You’ve been with Rafe for almost a year now, give or take. Said your I love yous, met each other’s families. Hell, you’ve spent more time at Tannyhill than at your own place lately, and you’ve grown used to Rafe’s kook side. His friends, though? These parties? A whole other beast.

“I already met Topper. Isn’t that enough?”

He laughs under his breath, reaching over to take your hand. “You’ll be fine. It’s Kelce, and a few other people. No big deal.”

No big deal, you think. Easy for him to say when he’s been around these people his whole life. For you, being a pogue, working extra shifts at the country club just to pay rent… yeah, this is a little different.

“I know, I know. I’ll be fine. It’s just— I’m out of my element.”

He squeezes your hand. “Hey. You’re with me. That’s all that matters.” 

You’re with Rafe. The Rafe who loves you, who can’t keep his hands off you even when you’re just watching movies. The Rafe who gets jealous over dumb things, like if you laugh too hard at one of JJ’s jokes, even though he’s just your seventeen-year-old neighbor. The Rafe who texts you goodnight, even when you’re in the same room, because he’s a sap and you secretly love it.

“Alright, let’s go,” you agree, trying to hype yourself up.

Rafe smiles, and then he’s out of the truck, jogging over to your side to open the door for you, like a perfect gentleman. You roll your eyes but step out, the night air brushing your bare shoulders. You weren’t sure how to dress for this party, so you chose to wear something…safe. A pretty red top you only used on special occasions and your best demim skirt. It wasn’t exactly kook material but at least you weren’t in your worn-out shorts and usual crop top or in your work uniform.

The moment you walk inside, though, it’s like stepping into a different world. The house is packed. People everywhere, laughing, drinking, hanging by the pool. Everything’s pristine and polished, and you feel their eyes on you the second you walk in.

Rafe wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close. “Want a drink?” he asks, leaning down so you can hear him over the music.

You nod, trying not to let the fact that people are definitely staring at you freak you out. You’re not a Kook. You’re his girl, though, and you know how much that pisses some of them off.

A few minutes later, you’ve got a drink in hand, and Kelce’s talking your ear off about something you don’t really understand. Golf. You smile and nod along, doing your best to keep up, but the truth is, you’re not listening. You’re too busy watching the crowd, still feeling like you don’t fit in. Like you never really will.

That’s when you notice her. Tall. Pretty, in that rich, polished way that’s almost too perfect. And she’s glaring. Right. At. You.

Your stomach drops, and you tear your eyes away, sipping your drink to cover the dread that suddenly hits you. You don’t know who she is, but she’s been staring at you since you walked in, and it’s starting to mess with your head. Was there something on your face? Had you met before at the club? Maybe she didn't like your drinks.

“Baby, you okay?” Rafe’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, his hand resting on the small of your back.

“Yeah, fine,” you lie, forcing a smile. He frowns slightly but doesn’t push it. Kelce’s still talking, oblivious.

You try to ignore it, but as the night goes on, she keeps popping up. Always staring. Always with that look crazied in her eyes. Like she could kill you. You’ve had a couple drinks by now, and your nerves are turning into a kind of irritation.

Finally, you excuse yourself to the bathroom, needing a break from the overwhelming feeling of being watched. You lock the door behind you, exhaling slowly as you stare at your reflection. Were you seeing things? Overreacting? Surely, Rafe or Kelce would’ve noticed as well, right? Or maybe they were used to this. 

I’m just overthinking it, you tell yourself. I’m fine. She’s just..

But when you open the door to leave, she’s there. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, staring at you with that same stupid look, like you personally offended her by daring to exist. 

“Can I help you?” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

She doesn’t smile. Doesn’t even flinch. Just tilts her head, giving you the most disgusted once-over you’ve ever seen in your life. “You’re Rafe’s new thing, huh?”

What? You’ve had just enough to drink that your filter is basically nonexistent now. You blink, confusion killing the buzz in your head. “Sorry, do I know you?”

“No,” she says, her voice dripping with disdain. “But I know you.”

You laugh awkwardly, nothing about this is funny. “Okay? So what’s your problem?”

Her eyes narrow, lips tinted pink curling. Oh, she’s mad now. She steps up closer to you, practically chest-to-chest. “My problem is that I don’t get why someone like you is with Rafe. He used to have a certain standard.”

Oh.

You almost laugh again because...wow. Really? That’s what this is about? “Okay, Regina George,” you mutter under your breath. You’re not in the mood for this. You tilt your head, giving her your best innocent smile.  “And who are you?”

“Sophie. I dated Rafe for two years, before you, obviously,” she says, like that’s supposed to mean something. You didn’t know him back then, you hadn’t even spoken a word to him. "Guess he didn’t mention me."

His ex. Of course. Of course she’s his ex. 

You snort before you can stop yourself. "Nope, pretty sure he forgot to bring you up.”

You feel a little sting of jealousy in your chest, but you try to swallow it down. You’re not about to let this girl get under your skin. You’re better than that. You didn’t know him, it’s fine.

 “I’m not really interested in whatever this is.” You move to step around her, but she blocks your path.

“Just a word of advice,” she grits out, like you’ve personally offended her, “He’s not the kind of guy who sticks around for long. Especially not with girls like you.”

That does it. The alcohol, the nerves, the whole night—you’re seconds away from losing it. “What the hell is your problem?” you snap, your hands curling into fists at your sides.

“Dirty pogues who think—”

"Okay. I’m not gonna play whatever this is with you," you interrupt her, gesturing between the two of you, stepping forward so you’re toe-to-toe with her now. "If he wanted to be with a walking Vineyard Vines ad, he would be. But he’s not. He’s with me."

“You really think you’re different?” she spits, voice laced with venom. "Like you're special?"

Your laugh comes out sharp, more of a bark. “If you were so special, you wouldn’t be here, playing guard dog outside the bathroom. Move."

“Or what?” she challenges, her lips curling in that same superior smirk that makes your blood boil. “What are you gonna do, pogue?”

That’s it. You feel the fire flare up in your chest. Screw this girl. Your hands ball into fists, and you’re half a second from knocking that smug look right off her face when Topper steps in.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, let’s not turn this into Jerry Springer, alright?" He holds up his hands like he’s breaking up a fight at a middle school dance. You’re staring daggers at Sophie, and she’s glaring right back, but his hands are still up, a peacekeeper grin plastered across his face as he looks between the two of you. “Let’s not do this,” his eyes landing on Sophie. “C’mon, Soph, no need for the drama, yeah?”

She scoffs, crossing her arms and stepping back with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “Whatever, Topper.

He watches her go before turning back to you, eyebrows raised. “You good?”

You nod, still fuming, but grateful he stepped in when he did. "Yeah. Thanks."

You let him take you away because if he doesn’t, you're going to follow her and throw a drink in her face or do something worse. You feel like you could punch her right in her perfect, stuck-up face. 

He leads you back to where Rafe is, and you’re too upset to even look at him. His hands are on you the second you’re close, pulling you to him like he can tell something’s off. "Baby," his lips brush against your temple. "What’s wrong? You look like you’re ready to kill someone."

You don’t answer. You can’t. Not without completely blowing up.

Rafe’s brow furrows, his eyes darting between you and Topper. “What the hell happened?” he asks again, more forceful this time.

Topper gives him a look but doesn’t say anything, just shrugs. “Nothing, man. Just some girl drama. Don’t worry about it.”

Girl drama your ass.

He turns to you, and suddenly, he’s all over you, his hands on your waist, the other settling on the back of your head, “Baby, talk to me. What’s going on?”

You pull away, shaking your head, still too mad to speak.

He follows, his hands reaching for yours. “Hey, c’mon.”

Finally, you look at him. Really look at him. And the second you see his face, that stupid, worried puppy-dog expression, the anger starts to melt away.

“I’m mad,” you admit, “I got jealous. Your ex’s a bitch.”

Rafe blinks, and then, to your surprise, he laughs. A real, genuine laugh. You glare at him. “It’s not funny!”

“No, no, it’s not,” he says, quickly sobering, though there’s still a stupid smirk at his lips. “I just, I’ve never seen you jealous before.”

You cross your arms, still pouting. “I’m serious, Rafe. She was awful.”

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. “I don’t care about her. At all. I care about you.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart is softening. “She said you wouldn’t stick around.”

Rafe’s smile fades, and he pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes. “That’s bullshit. You know that, right?”

"She’s a psycho.”

Rafe’s expression changes, his frown deepening. "Sophie?"

"Yeah," you snap, because you hate the sound of her name coming out of his lips, "Sophie. Called me a dirty pogue, which—real original.”

“She what?” Rafe’s jaw tightens, and for a second, you see a flash of that old Rafe—the one who’d get into fights at the drop of a hat. "I’ll handle it.”

You’ve seen it before—his protective streak, the one that could turn dangerous if he wasn’t careful. Part of you loves it, the way he’d go to war for you without even blinking. But another part of you hates that you have so much power over him.

But right now, you’re still too mad to care about him handling anything. You push past him, heading for the exit, needing air, needing space. Everything inside you is on fire, and all you can think is that you need to get out. Anything but this house full of people who make you feel like you’re just dirt. People like her. You can’t stop hearing her nasal voice in your head, those snide comments digging into you like little needles, bringing up that same old insecurity.

“Baby, hold on,” His voice is behind you, and his hand is instantly catching yours, tugging you back before you can make it to the door.

You spin around, already ready to snap, but then you see his face—eyes wide, brow furrowed like he’s genuinely freaked out that you’re upset. “Don’t listen to her, she’s full of shit.”

You stare at him, your chest tight and aching, because yeah, you know she’s full of it, but it still got to you. It still hurt. “It just…” You swallow hard, trying to find the right words, even though everything feels like a mess. “It got in my head, Rafe. Like, I hate that she said that. I’m so sick of people looking at me like I don’t belong just because I’m not—”

He cuts you off, stepping closer, and before you can even finish the thought, he's dragging you into him. “You belong with me. That’s all that matters.”

You let out a breath, but you’re still worked up, “But it’s like—I don’t need some stuck-up kook girl who thinks she’s better than me telling me I don’t fit in. I know I’m not like them, but she said it like I wasn’t good enough for you. Like I’m just some—”

Rafe’s lips are on yours before you can finish. He only pecks you, but it’s enough to shut you up, to make your brain go silent for a second. “Stop,” his voice is almost pleading. “Stop thinking like that. I love you, okay? I don’t care what anyone else says.”

You blink up at him, you want to stay mad, but also want to let it go because he’s right here, so close, and he’s got that look on his face that makes your heart flip. “You don’t get it.”

He pulls you closer, hands gripping your hips like he can’t stand to have any space between you. “Then tell me,” he murmurs, pressing another kiss to your lips. “Tell me why you’re letting her get in your head.”

You huff, but the fight in you is starting to die out. “Because she made me feel like I’m less.”

He tilts your head back just enough to look at you, “That’s bullshit,” his fingers are gentle as they trail up your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You feel a little stupid for letting that girl get to you in the first place. But damn it, you’ve heard it before—from other people, from yourself—that nagging voice that says you’re not enough.

“I know.” you mumble though you’re still a little embarrassed.

Rafe smiles then, that sweet smile he only ever gives you, and he presses his lips to your forehead. “Good,” he says, tugging you even closer, like he’s trying to wrap himself around you. “Because I’m obsessed with you, and I don’t care what her or anyone else says.”

You let out a shaky laugh, finally letting yourself relax in his arms. “You’re obsessed with me?” you tease, tilting your head to meet his eyes.

“Hell yeah,” he grins, his hands sliding up your back, one hand slipping down to squeeze your ass, his thumb sliding just under the hem of your skirt. “I can’t keep my hands off you. You know that. It’s becoming a real problem.”

You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool, but you don’t stop the giggle from bubbling out. The way he’s looking at you right now, like he can’t even think straight because you’re standing in front of him—it drives you up the walls. Then he leans down and kisses you again, and this time it’s not...casual. His lips move against yours like he’s trying to take every thought in your head, and it’s working. Your hands slide up, wrapping around his neck as his tongue brushes against yours. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to this. 

He grips you harder, lips moving to brush against your ear, “You’re mine, baby and I’m not fucking going anywhere.”

That hits you, hard, like a truth he always reassures you off but still feels brand new when he does say it. Everything that pissed you off, all the crap Sophie said, it doesn’t matter anymore. 

“Stop making me horny,” You whine out, tugging at his shirt and pulling him closer. You can feel his grin against your skin as he leans in, biting your lip playfully before kissing you again, you know he’s enjoying teasing you. His hand slides down to grab a handful of your ass again, making you gasp against his mouth, and you feel him smirk.

“I like you horny.”

You’re in the middle of this stupid party, surrounded by people who probably hate you for breathing, but all you can think about is how much you want him right now. His lips move over yours like he’s trying to claim you, and you’re more than happy to let him. It’s messy, all tongues and spit, but you don’t care. You love how rough and needy he is, how he groans into your mouth like he’s been dying to kiss you all night. It’s the kind of kiss that leaves you dizzy, the room spinning, and you’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or him—or both.

You tug at his shirt, frustrated with how much fabric is in the way, and he chuckles against your mouth, biting down on your bottom lip just hard enough to make you gasp. His hands slide down up to your neck, tightening just enough around your throat, and you let out a soft whimper into his mouth, making him grin.

“You're just so—” his lips brush over your cheek, then down to your bottom lip, kissing and biting just hard enough to make you squirm, "Beautiful, aren't you?"

You’re normally not one for pda, not at all. The idea of people watching, of eyes on you while you're with someone, always made your skin crawl. But when Rafe kisses you like this? When he’s got his hands on you? God, your brain just goes dumb, and every ounce of self-consciousness fizzes out. It's embarrassing, almost. All you can think about is the way he’s making you feel, the way he’s holding you against him, leaving you breathless and wanting more. You’re so not this person, not the girl who makes out with her boyfriend in the middle of a crowded room.

But with Rafe? You can’t even think straight. 

His hands slide under your skirt for the millionth time, blunt fingernails gripping your plushy thighs, and you nearly whine, “Rafe,” you breathe, trying to pull away long enough to think properly, but he just kisses you harder, more insistent. “Baby, stop,” you manage to whisper, though you don’t mean it at all.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes all dark, his breath hot against your lips. “You want me to stop?” he teases, his hands still tight on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin in a way that makes your knees go weak.

You shake your head, biting your lip, and his grin widens. “Didn’t think so,” he murmurs before leaning in to kiss you again, like he can’t help himself, and honestly? Neither can you. You’re so turned on, it’s ridiculous. 

“I—fuck,” you pant, trying to get the words out between kisses, but he’s relentless, pressing you back against a wall, his lips latching on to your neck, sucking a bruise into your skin “Baby, please—”

He groans against your neck, one hand sliding up under your top, fingers brushing the bare skin of your waist, and you swear you’re about to lose it. “Please what, hmm?”

You bite your lip, trying to stay composed, but you’re way past that now. All you can think about is how much you need him. Right now. Anywhere but here.

“Take me to the truck,” you nearly beg him, just loud enough for him to hear, but you know he catches it because he pulls back just enough to look at you, pupils blown wide.

He smirks, running his thumb over your bottom lip, teasing. “Yeah? You need me that bad?”

You nod, not even caring how desperate you sound. “Please.” Your voice cracks a little on the last word, but you don’t care anymore.

You need him, and you need him now.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀

Forty minute later, the air inside the truck reeks of sex.

You’re breathless, flushed all over, and your legs feel like jelly. Rafe’s next to you, grinning like an idiot already fixing his jeans like he’s not still catching his breath. It’s written all over you—the tousled hair, the smudged lipstick, the way your top is barely hanging on properly as you try to straighten it out, the stickiness you can still feel between your legs, on your panties.

You feel filthy.

You bite back a smile as you adjust your skirt, your body still recovering from the way he had your face pressed against the seat.  

“Shit,” you breathe out, trying to get it together, your fingers fumbling to fix your bra strap, “I feel like my makeup’s a mess.”

He just chuckles, leaning back in his seat with that cocky look that made you want to jump him in the first place, “You look perfect,” he says, eyeing you up and down like he’s ready to go another round.

You roll your eyes but can’t help the heat that rises to your cheeks. “Yeah, well, you look like you just ran a marathon.”

He laughs, reaching over to pull you close, his lips pecking your hair, “Worth it.”

You’re just about to leave the truck when the door opens, and as you both step out, you catch sight of Sophie and her friends walking past. Perfect timing. Of course.

She’s glaring—hard—and her friends are snickering, whispering to each other like they’ve just seen something they shouldn't. Sophie’s nose wrinkles as her gaze flicks between you and Rafe, her expression twisting into disgust like you’re both some kind of wild animals who just rolled around in the mud.

But you? You feel smug.

You meet her stare for a second too long, the corner of your mouth lifting in the tiniest, most satisfied smirk. You know she knows exactly what just happened in that truck, and it’s killing her. She’s practically seething, her friends muttering furiously under their breath as they walk by, noses in the air.

Rafe doesn’t even glances their way—his fingers hook into one of the belt loops of your skirt, tugging you back to him with just enough force to make you stumble slightly into his built chest, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And it is.

“Thirty more minutes,” he murmurs against your cheek, planting a kiss there, casual but so possessive, his lips lingering just long enough to make your stomach shake with butterflies again, "And I'm taking you home."

And that’s what makes it even sweeter.

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

do you think Eridan would listen to kpop ? (either the human or Troll variant)

if not...then which troll would be the most likely to :3c

LOL no way, he's a hipster. KPop is mainstream as hell; if anything, he'd have disdain for it (and for pop as a whole). One of the less emotionally perturbed trolls would probably enjoy that stuff, though I don't know that I'd call any of the Alternian crew the kind who'd consider it to be their favorite, since nearly all of them are at least a little alt in some way, and kpop (and idol culture as a whole) is heavily tied up in politics, propaganda, capitalism, and consumption - so the troll version of it would be that times a thousand.

I'd say Feferi, Gamzee, and Kanaya probably quite like it because they're most at ease with their society, but it's not their favorite. Equius probably sees it as being aimed at the lower castes, and therefore crass and beneath him. Everyone else would probably get the propaganda vibes and dislike it on principle, even if some of them might secretly find some songs catchy (cough Karkat cough).

If you want to get into Beforan trolls, haha, oh man. I think more of them would like it than not.

Normally, I'd say that Eridan would at least make a show of liking it, given how much he makes a show of being a Sea Dweller(TM), but his hipster tastes, like his interest in magic, don't appear to be things he can shake. Karkat even calls him a hipster, so you KNOW he's out here dissing Trollor Swift and making disdainful faces when people bring up Troll Marvel.

I have as a selection of bands for Eridan Have a Nice Life (post-rock/post-punk/shoegaze), Sprain (noise rock/experimental rock), and Tool (alternative metal/art rock/progressive rock). Generally, I find he vibes with stuff on the darker side of post/prog rock, or the more lyrical side of heavy metal - both in terms of themes (lots of darker topics, like death, murder, suicide, child abuse, etc.) and in terms of sound. It also fulfills the requirement of being "hipster" by nature. Eridan is a very troubled, angry, violent guy, and I personally like to call the linked bands "angry man music". Just a smattering of lyrics for those who don't want to listen:

I've been doing a lot of damned things without you And all the damned things I do confound you Yeah, Satan and his devils try to take my hand And the angels on my shoulders try to tell me that they understand Oh well, oh well

Imagine this: I'm the guest on some obscene talk show In a cell of moral compromise The audience is made up of everyone that I have ever met in my entire life Every sin I've ever committed is put up on display by screens hung around the stage And we watch, watch, watch, watch, watch, watch, watch The host says "I now present to you an elaborate choreography of failure!" The audience erupts with seemingly coordinated jets of jargon laughter "Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Shame on you!"

I'm broken, looking up to see the enemy And I have swallowed the poison you feed me But I survive on the poison you feed me, leaving me Guilt-fed, hatred-fed, weakness-fed It makes me feel ugly

I think even when his tastes do venture lighter, they still never really cross the threshold into pure pop. There's always going to be a hipster, indie, punk-y, shoegaze/post-rock bent to his tastes. I also list for him Dirt Poor Robins, Family Crest, Johnny Hollow...

Wisdom unearned is Intrepid and proud Till we’re dragged by the tide and nearly have drowned Entropy thrives In conditions enclosed Innovations arise When humanity chokes

Cast your heart to the floor, love Feel the sting, feel the weight Of a love, of a love not strong enough Your head's on fire Your hands and feet come off the ground Oh, sweet desire, when your mind, when your mind When your mind's not strong enough It's not that your head is gone It's just that your heart is on fire, fire It's not that the beat is off It's just that your heart is on fire, fire

Once when I was all alone I called you, and you weren't at home My heart fell like a stone, to the ground To the ground, to the ground Why, when morn had dawned on me And anger grew like ecstasy And Leda threw the swan on me and I fell to the ground To the ground, to the ground

Hilariously, this alt/hipster taste means that he runs up against stuff that's ridiculously anti-government; I personally like to believe he does actually listen to outright anti-fascist songs, but if you point it out, he's just like. No it isn't. So SWMRS, Silver Mt. Zion, Vansire.

Well, you gotta keep it up But it will never be enough No sonrisa teenage shit pop Well, you gotta keep it up But it will never be enough No sonrisa teenage shit pop Death to the motherfucking fascist insect This shit makes me so sadistic Death to the motherfucking fascist insect This shit makes me so sadistic Death to the motherfucking fascist insect This shit makes me so sadistic Death to the motherfucking fascist insect This shit makes me so sadistic

There's fresh meat in the club tonight God bless our dead marines Someone had an accident Above the burning trees While somewhere distant peacefully Our vulgar princes sleep Dead kids don't get photographed God bless our dead marines

So I convalesced in the middle west And fell for Ohio's roads I'm standing still by the windowsill Where I once watched the world explode So when it's looking dark in your narrative arc I'm here and you can talk with me A hackneyed fool under fascist rule Wasting days singing about his dreams

It's a pretentious-ass taste, but one that fits in with the vocabulary he likes to use:

CA: all of her FRAUDULENT MAGICS cannot come close to posin threat to my mastery ovver the TRUEST SCIENCES CA: an wwith my empiricists wwand i servve as the righteous hope that wwill incinerate delusion and the deluded alike CA: my holy fire is the wwhite fury bled from the wwrath-wweary eyes of fifty thousand nonfictional angels CA: and wwhen theyre finished wweepin they wwill boww before their prince GG: wow what are you talking about

I miss the days when stars were saintly They sang to me in ways innately Before we enslaved the symphony To playing anthems for selling things I used to wonder, wander farther Into awe, but those days were squandered My ghost was lost to the grownup gallows So I find my spirit in the bottle

Those modal masterworks Atonal oeuvres it seems When I ask afterwards All message lost in between The shifting aperture Depicting sun-soaked scenes I guess they resonate That's Universal Consciousness

Fate’s a funny thing It makes a victim of the will and brings a suit of broken bands A snake so full of tail That it can barely breathe to say it “doesn’t understand.” So, what am I to think? What am I to think? I’m doing it now At least I know I am At least I caught myself before I sent this out Into a stupid world that doesn’t give a damn Oh, what kind of fool do you think I am?

Like, I really can't stress enough, but Eridan is abjectly fucking miserable, angry and violent, anxious and unhappy. And his taste in music should reflect that, his feelings of impotence, his angry and anxious energy, his desperation. Have a Nice Life is probably the band I pick for him, because their discography reflects so greatly these emotions of anger, impotence, self-loathing and self-destruction.

The thing about being a hipster is that there's, the way I see it, three main reasons people wind up falling into it - the first is that they want to feel special, feel better than other people (not really Eridan's deal); the second is that they're just generally a music liker and their taste is indiscriminate enough to include indie stuff, too (and this is also not really Eridan's deal); and the last is because there is something in their soul that cries out for validation that they can't receive in the mainstream - for example, emotions, impulses, thoughts, and urges too dark for radio play (such as an obsession with genocide and murder). It's actually really important to me that Eridan IS a hipster, and specifically the type of hipster who's super pretentious and looks down on stuff that's "popular."

He has a massive fixation on being understood - complaining constantly that people don't "get it," that "nobody understands." This would extend to his taste in music. He would seek out genuine-ness, something grungy, something real, and unfortunately, stuff that's made for mass-market consumption must have the edges sanded off by nature. Given he actually gets upset when people don't "get" him, I'd wager that he doesn't treat media that he feels doesn't "get" him pretty poorly, too.

To be clear, I'm not trying to diss KPop in any way. It's not really my thing, but I get why people like it, and I'm not saying you shouldn't. Just feel like I have to toss that in there. I just really don't think Eridan would like it. And also he would probably be mean about it if you told him you liked it.

[solar-sunnyside-up]

Hey, I’m sorry to dump this on ya but your blog gives me a lotta hope and I just wondered if you had anything to say to my current ails- I am but a very anxious teen and I am so scared. I see so many people talking of how the world “Will end in 2040” or how “damn the past was so much better because it was simpler” and I am lowkey starting to believe that. I’ve got a problem with romanticizing a past I wasn’t even a part of and I really don’t want to live in some awful dystopian future and I fear I’ve missed out on so much because of when I was born :( and how come no one can afford basic shit anymore? I don’t wanna have no money at all! I really would like to be happy in the future but with all the bullshit caused by social media and the lack of money it seems bleak. I’m sorry that this is such a negative ask but I am not doing so hot and was hoping you’d have an insight ? Don’t respond if you don’t wanna

Hey ya there sprout 🌱 it can be really tough out there!

Your feelings are valid, so valid in fact that those exact feelings are why Solarpunk as it currently exists is around! We've all been there!

Between the wages of the top 10% of ppl vs everyone else being greater then during the French revolution, the average citizen globally being worse off then when the great depression was happening, climate crisis after crisis, all while consuming endless bits of info both horrifying (ex Politics) and hopeful (ex Social Media activism) it's waaaay too much for anyone to bare alone! Much less constantly! That burden shouldn't be on any of us!! But since it is, I'm here to help at least lighten the load even if temporary.

The best thing to do when we feel like this is to stop. Find 5 minutes to be still. We are fight/flight/fawn creatures and we will only loop in our solutions without actual clear choices if we don't Chill Out. We're mammals our natural state is Chilling Out and Play.

Next, think about how cool the planet is and particularly how cool humans are?

How there's finger flutes on ceilings thousands of years old, smaller then average indicating that parents held their children up to draw on the ceilings.

Think about the invention of looms and spinning fibers! What other creature could do that? Think about the kids that could build Snowmans without aching fingers because of lovingly knit mittens.

We sing like whales do, like birds do, like wolves do, and we do it to share stories and ideas over food! It is the first things babies mimic! We have songs so old we no longer know their origin just that they came from love! We even have songs to herd cattle meaning music transcends just us but bleeds into our relationships with the planet!

That we have play behavior! Just like wolves and foxes and whales and octopus it is so built into our DNA to play its generally how we learn things! This ranges from agriculture (children tossing seeds around, blowing on dandelions!) To chores (parachute games > folding laundry, playing pretend > usually chores/job based) to hunting (tag! Hide and seek!)

Think about our interconnectiveness with the planet too, how we are guided by Honey guides to find abandoned hives to share in the spoils of bread and honey. How Sweetgrass needs us to flourish, how berries and nuts need us to spread across the land, how we fix other animals broken bones and beaks and help them return home when otherwise they wouldn't ever get home.

Now that you can remember we deserve to be here, that you deserve to be here. We can look at the current situation and bare it.

And we do that by doing small things. Jam out and listen to music while picking up litter on your block, go to a library and just hang out or research something you love, make seed Bombs and toss them I to abandoned lots, make silly cartoons. Whatever it is, it will be enough.

The weight of the world isn't ment for the individual no matter how much Capitalism and Elites will try and guilt you over their failures. That weight is ment for collective groups, but your job as a Person is to be happy where you can and to be kind so others can be happy. The last thing that I always keep in my heart is a quote from my fave author Ursula Le Guin:

Hang in there, a brighter tomorrow is gunna happen. I promise 🌻

[spookythesillyfella]

do y'all ever forget who you really are and become cold . unfeeling and uncaring ?

do you ever feel wrong for being alive too ?

[seaofreverie]

Anyway.... Back to what I was pondering earlier today... It's been 4 months but I'm still as deeply obsessed with Exotic Creatures of the Deep as at the very start

[eggmeralda]

I may have lost all hope

[usodeshou]

tumblr's music player somehow isn't working for me anymore and i'm so sad 🥺

i wanna listen to the songs that people put on my dash and it doesn't let me and i'm just sadly tapping the player with zero reaction 😔

why am i being music-blocked? why does tumblr not want me to know my mutuals?? 🥺

[goblin-enjoyer]

Oh by the corpses I think I’m loosing it. Earlier I just got back from a friends birthday get together for their 21ST. I’m a bit worn out so I go to watch some background entertainment on YouTube while a get my batteries for wow back (I heard there was a new important quest chain). I see some homestuck comic dubs in my feed. Odd, but makes sense as I have been listening to the music lately. So I turn on those old 3-4 year old videos thinking: “eh this is just some old dubs from 2015-16 might as well watch em while I recharge. See what this old decaying fandom had in its heyday”. I watch for a bit until I find a comp that BLINDSIDES me with a Covid reference comic. I look at the date, 4 years ago. After the video is finished I then proceed to realize that all those videos were from 2020-2022 and then start breaking down somewhat as I realize I’m getting old and starting to think “4 years ago was 2016” . Que this post . Honestly I can’t tell which is worse. The fact that 2016 was almost 10 years ago and as much as things change, every 5 or so years they kinda just reset a tiny bit in the transition from old to new to old again Or the fact that i might be a homestuck fan now. Nonsense of a mad[WOULD PREFER NOT TO SAY] in the tags as I don’t put that crabp in the main post.

[toastsnaffler]

really horribly anxious this morning and can't seem to shake it off :-(

[djljpanda]

Lucifer Morningstar X Fallen Exorcist Reader

Ever since his split from Lilith Lucifer has been a reck feeling like no one can love him, need him, or understand him again

You have been an exorcist for a couple of thousand years now being one of the best exorcists Heaven could ever ask for

But deep down you always felt bad for those you had killed feeling like yes Hell is for those who have done wrong but what about those who did the wrong things for the right reasons

So on the next extermination day you tried to run away from it all but when Adam found out he took it upon himself to kill you

You were able to get away before Adam could finish you off but nothing could prepare you for meeting Lucifer himself

For some reason Lucifer took you in and helped you out and yes you did come out to him about you being a “fallen angel” and your ideals on heaven, earth, and hell

Lucifer just sat there and listened and for the first time since Lilith someone understood him

Now at first you two became roommates in a way, mostly helping him out with his work, giving him duck ideas, being his bodyguard and secretary, and you did try to push him into talking to Charlie more but you understood on why he couldn’t do it himself

You did face palm as when he called her all he did was tell her to have that meeting with Adam, at least it’s a start

Charlie dose know of you but saw you more as her fathers secretary or his best friend, like an aunt, she is happy how you think there is a way to get sinners in to heaven and how you told her if she ever needs help or to talk to someone you are just quick call

Lilith dose know of you and you may have never seen her face to face she is happy someone is keeping her ex happy

Now if you ever get together it would be the best for the both of you cause I’m sure you would want to confess first but with the thoughts of you killing his people and Lilith, it just made you hesitant but with a simple duck jester (making a duck quack an “I love you”) Lucifer confessed his feelings to you

Charlie I think would be happy for her dad to have found someone and yes at first she did see you as her aunt but she is happy to call you her step parent sand she isn’t afraid of telling everyone that either

That’s one of the major reason on why Lucifer likes you, his daughter loves you like a parental figure

This Lucifer is just a sad boy so if you just sit there and cuddle him he would love you forever and if add words of praise he is just melting

Definitely will vent to you cause he is that comfortable around you and he is happy that you feel the same way when you vent

You always support his duck creations and yes late nights would consist of you two role playing with the ducks, when you two started dating he made three duck versions of you, him, and Charlie all matching clothes sitting next to each other, this man had a whole collection of duck versions of you and he was embarrassed when you found out but you called it cute

When extermination day hits he could see how tense you get and when you told him on what happened before he found you he couldn’t help but hate Adam more and so every Extermination day Lucifer would hold your hand and comfort you may even play a little music and it just grew more loving when you two started dating

You do help out with Lu Lu World as it’s one of Lucifer’s passion projects and no one could believe how upset you were when Mammon created Loo Loo land, you almost put your exterminator skills to use but Lucifer stopped you and let Mammon have his way cause he didn’t want to argue with Mammon so you just had to let it go

You both do play music together as when you were both angels all you did was play music, duets and you can’t tell me you, Lucifer, and Charlie didn’t sing together once

You remember seeing Lucifer’s wings for the first time and how amazed you were as you kept complementing him and that just made his face all red and what made you stop was when he commented o how your wings could have been more pretty then his, you just smile at him

Now here you two have more of a bodyguard/ secretary and famous person kind of relationship even though he may not need it he likes keeping you around and that just help made his feelings grow for you

[bookyeom]

whatever you say, bro - chs

pairing: vernon x reader word count: 1.2k warnings: kissing, Shrek slander request prompt: "You're cute." "What did you say?" + "are you flirting with me?" "I’ve been trying to do that for three years."

Read Part Two here!

A/N: Thanks so much for all the support on my 700 follower celebration. You guys rock! I'm doing my best to get through the requests, but there were way more than I anticipated so bear with me!

Vernonie [8:59pm]: we still on for tomorrow night?

Your heart leaps, like it always does, when Vernon’s name pops up on your screen. 

Y/N [9:01pm]: yeah! see you then, bro

You sigh heavily, throwing your phone down onto the bed beside you and rolling over, pulling your pillow into your chest.

Bro.

It’s a defense mechanism, you know, but it’s getting a bit ridiculous now. You’ve taken to throwing out the word nervously when he gets too close – which seems to be more often than not lately. You’d been worried that your crush on Vernon was getting disgustingly apparent, and so you'd started with this whole "bro" nonsense. Now, you don’t know how to get out of it.

Every time he catches you looking at him and raises a dramatic brow; every time you’re making plans to hang out just the two of you; every time his hand accidentally brushes yours while he hands over a headphone for you to listen to a song – you find a way to call him 'bro'. So that he knows it’s all strictly platonic. Which it’s not, of course – not for you – but his friendship means more to you than anything in this world, and you’re not going to jeopardize that just because you think he’s hot. And kind. And funny. 

Sure thing, bro. See you tomorrow, bro. I love movie nights with you, bro. I love when you show me new music or video games and your face lights up, bro. I love your eyes and the way you laugh at your own jokes, bro. While we're at it, your smile is pretty nice too, bro. 

You close your eyes with a sigh. 

"Thumb war."

"What?"

You’re sitting on the floor in Vernon’s apartment the next day, arguing over which movie to watch. It’s been at least a half hour of back and forth, so you'd decided to take matters into your own hands, and had proposed the most obvious solution.

"Thumb war," you repeat. "Winner gets to pick the movie." 

Vernon eyes you warily. "Fine. You're on." 

As soon as his fingers curl into yours, you can feel your stomach flutter. His touch sends goosebumps across your skin, and you regret the suggestion instantly, but you must carry on. For honour – and for the fact that if he makes you watch Shrek 2 again you might scream.

You square your shoulders and laugh at Vernon’s face, which has instantly turned competitive. You count down, and as your thumbs begin to battle, you feel the competitiveness in yourself grow, too. 

“Yes!” You cry. You have him pinned. 

You’re counting down when Vernon suddenly surges forward, your hands falling apart as you let out an ‘oof’ and fall to the ground. You let out a squeak as your back hits the floor with a soft thud, Vernon landing on top of you. His arms are on either side of your head as he pushes himself up a little, chest hovering above yours, and you can audibly hear the way your breath catches in your throat.

"Just shut up and let me pick a movie," he says breathlessly, and you’re sure you've forgotten how to breathe. His hips are between your knees, his chest pressed to yours, and you can feel every part of him against you.  

"Make me shut up," come your words, and you regret it immediately. His eyebrows raise, just as surprised as you are, and you swear he falters a little. 

"I will," he says back after a pause, and you can’t tear your gaze away from his. "I'll kiss you." 

The blood is rushing to your cheeks before you have time to think. Around now would be the time that you look away, but he’s so close that you can’t. Your heart is nearly pounding out of your chest, and you’re certain he can hear it. Or feel it.

Your head is spinning as you force out a laugh before saying, "Okay, bro."

Vernon’s eyes search your face before meeting your gaze again. His expression is serious, and you hold your breath as you wait for him to react.

But all he does is stand up, holding his hands up in surrender. "You can choose.” 

For the rest of the night, things feel a bit awkward between you. You don’t comment on it like you normally would, because Vernon hasn’t said anything, which means he’s probably forgotten and it’s just you that’s making it weird now. You make it through your pick, and then he surprises you by picking one of your other favourites to watch as a second movie. It’s sweet, but you’re confused since he'd caused such a fuss earlier. 

As the movie progresses, you begin to relax a little. You can feel Vernon’s eyes on you as you giggle to yourself, and you shoot him a glare.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He shakes his head. You turn back to the TV, focusing again when you hear him add, quieter, “You’re cute.”

Your head whips back in his direction. He avoids your gaze this time, the only telltale sign he notices you looking shown in the way he fidgets with the remote. 

“What did you say?”

“I said you’re annoying.”

You think ignoring everything that’s just transpired in the last minute is probably for the best. 

“I’m about to be really annoying, then,” you quip – and then you begin to quote line after line. 

It’s one of his biggest pet peeves, and he knows you’re doing it on purpose. You continue, waiting for him to break. It doesn’t take very long.

"Oh my god. Shut up." You can hear the smile in his voice, and you know you aren’t annoying him that much. 

"Make me," you shoot back without thinking, your heart stopping as you quickly remember where those two words had gotten you just a couple of hours before. You think Vernon is holding his breath, too, and you resist the urge to shrink even further back into his couch. Don’t make it weird, it’s fine, you’re just joking, don’t make it –

Vernon’s hand is on your face before you can finish your thought, tilting your chin up towards him – and then he’s kissing you.

When he pulls back, it takes a second for your eyes to flutter open again. And when they do, he’s already looking back at you, unwavering. His thumb brushes against your chin before he smirks and says, eyebrows raised, "I told you I would, bro.”

Your mouth is agape as he drops his hand and turns back to the movie. You feel a bit like your entire brain is resetting as you process what just happened.

“Are you flirting with me?”

“I’ve been trying to do that for like, three years now, so… yeah.”

“You kissed me.”

Vernon looks at you again now, and you absolutely cannot understand how he’s so calm about all of this. Smiling about it, even. “I did. Thoughts?”

Your friend is stoic at the best of times, but his eyes always give him away. When he doesn’t break your gaze, when he just waits while you process, you can see it in the way he’s looking at you — that even if he seems calm on the outside, he’s nervous. Nervous that you’re going to reject him, nervous that he may have overstepped, nervous that you don’t like him back. As if that would even be possible. “I think,” you say slowly, “that the movie can wait a little longer if you wanted to kiss me some more… bro.”

@wheeboo @tae-bebe @waldau @eoieopda @gyuminusone @minisugakoobies @lvlystars @seohomrwolf @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @christinewithluv @wqnwoos @iluvseokmin

[autumnrory]

saw my high school german teacher at the wedding shower this morning (should’ve occurred to me that he would be there since i knew he would be at the wedding) and it’s much more embarrassing to have to answer a former teacher when they ask what’s going on with you and you’ve got nothing going for you so i wish i had been prepared to have to deal with that today and not two months from now but anyway we’re in a mutual follow on instagram so he’s like “all i know about is your daily outfit pictures” and i was just like “that’s all there is!”

[newwave-lesbian]

.

[nats--sw]

Gold chain (pt6) | Leah Williamson

First rounds of Wimbledon note: Well,, I tried to wrap all on this part but it was taking too long to fit everything in one go, so next part is coming. The opponents' names are made up by the way warnings: fluff and slow burn, a bit suggestive(?) nothing really pt1 my masterlist

Music used to relax you, there was nothing better than blasting your ears with tunes at full volume while taking a little nap during a massage session. But now, that seemed impossible with Jane, your physiotherapist, working on your legs, pressing hard on your most tense spots.

“Fuck, Jane, are you sure you're a physical therapist? It feels like you're wrecking my legs,” you complained, wincing as you clenched your fists. You were lying on your stomach, your face sunk into the hole of the massage table. 

Jane just smiled, a mixture of amusement and professionalism in her expression. She would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy seeing you like this after all the frustration you caused by not listening to her advice about overdoing your workouts.

“Stop whining, this is good for your muscles,” she said softly, still working on your legs.

“It’s not whining, it’s just-” you started to say, but another particularly firm squeeze shut you up, and you let out a whimper. “Jane!”

Jane leaned over a bit and took off your headphones. “If you’d listened to me, we wouldn’t be in this mess. You told me you don’t want to have any problems with injuries, and for that, your body needs to relax and recover from all the overactivity you’ve had.”

You knew she was right. You sighed heavily, but you wouldn’t admit it. Jane knew that all too well. “Can you at least be a little gentler?”

“If I were any gentler, it wouldn’t be effective,” she said, shaking her head. “Besides, you mentioned you want to be 100% for your game tomorrow. My guess is you’re trying to impress someone, but since I’m not a specialist, I’ll keep that to myself,” she added with a cheeky grin.

You managed a small smile despite the pain and her teasing. “Yeah, okay, I’ll shut up. But seriously, how much longer?”

Jane glanced at the clock on the wall, but when she saw your coach walk in, she didn’t answer.

“Hmhm,” Lucas cleared his throat, standing by the table. From where you were lying, you could only see his legs. “Can you explain what’s going on here?”

Jane’s hands stopped immediately as she turned her attention to Lucas.

“What’s going on now?” you asked, reluctantly sitting up on the table and facing your coach, who was holding a bouquet of flowers. “Since when does Wimbledon send flowers to players?” you chuckled, it was a pretty classy move, just right for an English tournament.

“It’s not from Wimbledon,” Lucas said, pulling out a small pink envelope from the flowers. “I haven’t read it,” he assured you, handing both the envelope and the flowers over. 

Lucas didn’t look happy, but surprisingly he didn’t seem mad either. His face was more a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

“I think I have a guess about who sent them,” he said, glancing over at Jane.

“Was it you? Aww, how sweet! They say you get nicer with age,” you teased the woman, giving her a playful nudge.

“It wasn’t me,” Jane said, playfully pinching your cheek with a grin.

“Ouch! Don’t do that,” you said, rubbing your cheek and then looking at the flowers. They were perfect, not too flashy, not too small. With a smile you didn’t even notice you had, you figured out who must’ve sent them. It was pretty obvious.

You set the flowers aside on the table and opened the envelope, with your coach and Jane watching intently. As you read the note, your heart skipped a beat.

[Best of luck for tomorrow, darling. I can’t be there, but I’ll be rooting for you no matter what. Kisses, L.W.]

“Is she blushing?” you heard Lucas mutter to Jane.

“Tell me, have you ever seen her this calm? She almost looks like an angel,” Jane said, shaking her head with a grin.

“I’m hearing you loud and clear,” you said, trying to keep your cool, even though you could feel your cheeks warming up.

“So, who’s the flowers from?” Lucas asked again, crossing his arms and giving you a serious look.

“The card doesn’t say,” you said, trying to slip the card back into the envelope.

“But you know who it is,” Jane said, her tone more certain.

“Nope.”

“Ah, well. We know who it is,” Lucas said with a smirk.

You stared at them, unsure of what to say.

“You’re just trying to get me to spill the name. I’m not telling you,” you said firmly.

“Oh, we know,” Jane insisted, her grin widening.

“Alright, then tell me who it is,” you said defiantly, crossing your arms and copying Lucas’s posture.

“Leah Williamson,” they answered at the same time. Lucas was dead serious, while Jane had a cheeky smirk.

You choked on your own saliva, realizing you’d just heard the name of the person who’d sent the flowers.

“W-what are you talking about? Have you both lost it?” you stammered, trying to cover up but failing miserably.

“We’ve seen her leaving your hotel a few times these past weeks,” Lucas said, staring at you with that intense, questioning look.

“Just a coincidence,” you said, turning your back on them, cursing yourself (and Leah for not being more discreet). “She could be friends with another player. The hotel’s packed.”

Jane giggled, and Lucas sighed, crossing his arms with a resigned look. “Yeah, right. And I’m the king of England,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I get what’s going on here. Just make sure you don’t mess things up. Focus on tennis during the matches. You can do all your talking and showing off with Williamson after you win your match. Got it?”

“Got it”

Wimbledon, day 2. Round of 128. Court 2.

The first match was usually the easiest since your opponent was often weaker, but tennis isn’t always about rankings and stats. Knowing that anything could happen made you a bit nervous. Even though those nerves hadn’t shown on the court so far, with a score of 1-0 and a pretty straightforward 6-3 win in the first set. But you still felt the pressure.

Your opponent’s first serve wasn’t the strongest, but you stayed alert. As the ball bounced on the grass, you got ready to return it. You adjusted your visor to block the sun, reminding yourself how crucial it was to stay focused between points.

When you saw your opponent toss the ball for her serve, you sprang into action, returning it with force. Unfortunately, you hit it a bit too hard, and it landed just inches outside the line.

The next serve was a bit stronger, and although you didn’t handle it perfectly with your racket, you still managed to get the ball over the net. Your opponent went for a volley but missed, giving you another point.

You glanced over at your team and saw Lucas grinning and giving you two thumbs up. You took a deep breath, feeling pretty relaxed knowing you had the match under control. You were almost there and could almost taste moving on to the next round.

The rest of the points were pretty smooth, though your opponent switched things up towards the end. She figured out that when she hit a low, fast ball, you had to work harder to return it.

On the last point to win the match, she did exactly what she’d been doing for most of the last set. When you saw that low ball coming, you rushed forward without thinking, got to it just in time, and smashed it across the court in the opposite direction your opponent was running.

And just like that, you’d made it through the first round.

Relief washed over you. You grabbed the gold chain around your neck, giving it a little tug as you walked over to your opponent. With a subtle smile, you shook her hand. She gave you a firm grip and a tired smile back. There weren’t many words exchanged, neither with her nor with the umpire.

As you waved to a few people in the stands, you couldn’t help but wonder if Leah had been watching. You really hoped she had.

“Great game, fast and on point. Nicely done,” Lucas said when you met after, giving you a friendly pat on the back.

“I made a bunch of unforced errors though. We need to work on that,” you said, handing him your racket bag.

“We’ll sort it out after the press conference,” he replied.

Leah was pretty nervous. She had no idea how you’d react to the surprise. After a match, she figured you’d be wiped out, and here she was, standing in your hotel room with dinner ready on the table. She’d made sure to keep it alcohol free, just as she promised Lucas early.

She still couldn’t figure out how she ended up with messages from your coach in her DMs. You hadn’t said much since yesterday, just sent her a selfie with the flowers she gave you.

Then she heard footsteps and voices outside the room. The door opened, and there you were, looking exhausted. You shut the door behind you with a bit of a struggle.

“Surprise,” Leah said softly, trying not to startle you.

You couldn’t help but jump when you saw her standing there. All that tiredness from the match seemed to disappear in an instant. You rushed toward Leah, and luckily, she reacted quickly, opening her arms just in time to catch you. As you practically threw yourself at her, she wrapped her arms around you, keeping you both from crashing to the floor.

“Leah! How the heck did you get in?” you asked, still stunned.

Leah didn’t answer right away. Instead, she looked at you with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, clearly taken aback by how close you were. Then, without missing a beat, she leaned in and kissed you. You closed your eyes, melting into the kiss as your lips met hers.

“Congratulations,” she whispered against your lips before kissing you again, this time with more intensity. She wrapped her arms around you, lifting you slightly so you could wrap your legs around her, holding you close in the air. “You were incredible today,” she murmured, her breath warm against your skin. “Loved the new white outfit”

“Stop trying to flatter me while you’re kissing me,” you said, scrunching your nose with a playful grin.

“Why?” Leah asked, tightening her grip on your waist just a bit more.

“Because it turns me on, and I’ve got this no-sex-on-tournaments rule,” you explained, trying not to roll your eyes at Leah’s mischievous grin.

“You know that sex doesn’t actually mess with your performance, right?”

“It’s not about that,” you said, holding up your gold chain for emphasis. “It’s just bad luck for me, and I’m super into my rituals and all that.”

“Sounds kinda boring,” Leah said with a laugh, clearly enjoying teasing you. Then she set you down and, before you could say anything else, she cupped your face in her hands. She made you stand on your tiptoes and kissed you again, this time gently and tenderly. 

“Okay, that’s enough,” you said, almost against your will, as you gently pushed Leah away. “Now, without sounding like a stalker, how did you get into my room?”

“Well, it’s pretty much common knowledge that your coach knows about us now,” Leah said, giving you a knowing look. You nodded in agreement. “Well, he messaged me to thank me. He says your backhand’s gotten way better since we started talking”  she added with a smirk, clearly pleased with herself.

“That’s got nothing to do with you,” you shot back, trying to play it cool.

“Anyway,” Leah said, brushing off your comment, “he told me I’ve got his blessing to be around you, especially now.” She playfully tugged at the laces of your joggers, pulling you so close you could feel her warmth and her breath on your skin. “He thinks I bring you luck.”

“It doesn’t,” you said, feeling your heart race and your stomach flutter from her closeness.

“Well, you won Roland Garros with me in the stands,” she murmured with a soft smile.

“I won because your mom was there,” you replied, trying to stay serious.

“Ugh, don’t mention my mum when we’re this close,” Leah said with a glare, giving you a playful shove. You couldn’t help but laugh at the way she tried to look frustrated while you both stood so close.

You’d never had company like this during a tournament before. Sure, your parents would show up for the big matches, but it wasn’t quite the same as seeing other players with their partners by their side throughout the whole tournament. You couldn’t help but feel a little envious.

“And besides,” Leah said, taking your hand and guiding you toward the table where dinner was set up. “I’m here to make sure you eat something decent, not just shove sandwiches down your throat.” She gestured at the table with a playful sigh. “It’s something light and flat- I didn’t pick the menu,” she said, wrinkling her nose at a plate full of vegetables.

Even though it was just a simple thing, having Leah here made your heart race in a way you hadn’t expected. It was something new and comforting that you didn’t realize you’d been missing.

“But it has the right amount of protein-” Leah started again, but you gently pulled her arm, making her turn to face you. Before she could say more, you leaned in and kissed her, your lips brushing against hers with a smile. She looked surprised for a second before smiling into it.

“I adore you,” you murmured against her lips, feeling the warmth of her presence make everything feel right.

Wimbledon, day 4. Round of 64. Court 3.

Having Leah in the stands was a whole new level of intensity. Sure, she’d been there before, but this was the first time you were fully aware she was just a few feet away, watching your every move. She was standing next to Jane, who was chatting away as you walked onto the court. You didn’t want to draw too much attention (though it was already a bit odd that the captain of the Lionesses was sitting with your team), so you just gave a casual nod and a small tilt of your visor to acknowledge her.

“Who’s the blonde?” your opponent, Feya, asked from her chair. You got along with her well enough, so it was more curiosity than anything else.

You glanced over at Leah as you opened your first bottle of water. She was wearing sunglasses, but her blonde hair was still pretty noticeable. However, in a tennis crowd, people would probably recognize a top 50 player faster than a female football star, so Leah wasn’t really standing out.

“Just part of my team,” you said, trying to keep it cool as you headed to the center of the court to warm up.

“She’s really locked in,” Leah said, nodding as the first set ended 4-6 in your favor. She’d been worried that having her here might throw you off, but it looked like you were totally on top of your game.

“You know,” Jane chimed in, still keeping her eyes on you as you rested with a towel over your face. “But Y/n can be quite... full of herself,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “She loves the spotlight and showing off. And trust me, having you here today is like adding fuel to her fire. She’ll be pushing herself even harder, wanting to impress you. When it’s over, she’ll probably act like it was easy, but she’s doing all this to catch your eye.”

“I don’t think that-”

“It’s not a bad thing. ” Jane said with a chuckle. “We’ve seen it before, I mean, trying to impress her parents. That’s why her coach isn’t bothered by you being here.”

Leah sighed, glancing over at you. You were hunched over, focused on a spot on the grass, completely in the zone.

“If she keeps this up for the rest of the match, she’ll have it in the bag. Let’s just hope it stays that way,” Jane said softly, her eyes full of admiration and concern as she looked at you.

The first few games of the second set had been going great. You were already 1-2 up, having just broken your opponent’s serve. Now it was your turn to serve, and you were locked in. You adjusted your grip on the racket, focused on your routine, bouncing the ball, eyeing the service box, and preparing to unleash a powerful first serve.

Just as you were about to toss the ball, the umpire’s voice cut through your focus. You glanced around and saw people talking and walking away, and the ball boys darting across the court. You muttered a curse under your breath, feeling a wave of frustration. Looking up, you saw a massive black cloud rolling in.

“Fuck me” you muttered, frustration thick in your voice. You looked up at the sky again, knowing what was coming. 

The umpire’s voice came through, barely audible over the commotion, “We’ll see if we can resume play in an hour.”

The din of the crowd grew louder as the reality of the rain set in. You tried to keep your frustration in check, knowing that any outburst could earn you a warning. You bit your lip, took a deep breath, and tried to calm your racing thoughts.

You wanted to scream, but you knew better than to lose it in front of everyone. You bit your lip and took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. You were playing some of your best tennis, every shot was spot on, and now rain was messing it all up. It was definitely going to give your opponent a breather, and you could practically see her smiling with relief on the other side of the court. 

Grumbling, you grabbed your stuff and headed back inside, your eyes almost blank. You didn't want anything to distract you. You put on your headphones, letting the music fill your mind and block out the chaos around you. You walked to the bathroom and locked yourself in. The echo of your footsteps bounced around the empty hallway, and every second of waiting felt like a hit to your concentration.

Inside the bathroom, you leaned against the wall, closing your eyes and trying to keep your focus. You replayed every point won in your head, every strategy planned.  Hopefully, your opponent was the one freaking out during this break. But Feya had way more experience and probably knew exactly how to handle this situation. You, on the other hand, had only a couple of rain delayed matches under your belt and had lost all of them after the restart. The statistics weren’t in your favor.

Pacing back and forth, you tried not to get cold. Your heart was still racing from the match, and you didn’t want to lose that. This was only the second round of Wimbledon, and going home this early was not an option, especially not with Leah watching you so closely.

You took a deep breath, still leaned against the cold wall, and grabbed your phone. Without hesitation, you dialed Leah's number. It didn't ring for more than three seconds before you heard her voice.

"Hey..."

"Leah," you said, but then froze. Damn, you had to stay focused, you were still halfway through the game.

"I wanted to call you, but your coach said it wouldn't be a good idea."

You put the phone down for a moment and adjusted your headphones. Your breathing started to hitch. You brought your forearm to your face and covered your eyes.

"Why? Did he say it would be a bad idea because I might be upset?" you said, letting out a nervous laugh.

"He said exactly that."

"Well, he was right, damn old man," you said, laughing despite the lump forming in your throat. "Would it offend you if I said how much I hate England right now?"

Leah's laughter calmed you a bit. It seemed as if she was oblivious to the whole situation that had you on the verge of collapse. That helped. Maybe everything wasn't as bad as your head was making it out to be.

"It's not the first time I've heard that," Leah said. "But England has good things to offer too. You just have to give it time."

"I would if it wasn't for this damn rain," you mumbled. "I was sure I could win 1-6. I just wanted to finish the match, and now I don't even know if it will be over."

"Your coach says the weather isn't too bad. Just hang in there..."

"Leah, I think I'm gonna lose this round," you said, rubbing your face with both hands, frustration bubbling up. "I don't wanna go home." You didn’t want to cry, but the tears were already starting to fall.

"You're not going home," Leah said firmly. "Remember last year? You made it to the semifinals with no problem."

"Yeah, but... I didn't have any rain delays last year," you sighed. "I got lucky last year. That's what I kept telling myself throughout the tournament. But this time feels different... maybe it's a sign that things aren't going my way this time."

"No," Leah cut in, her tone sharp. "It's not different. You're more experienced now, you've just won a Grand Slam, and you've worked on your game and your mindset. Don't let a cloud ruin all that."

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, letting Leah's words sink in. You needed that reminder, that spark of trust, to know she believed in you.

"Thanks, Leah," you whispered, feeling the lump in your throat start to dissolve. "I'm going to try."

"That's all you can do. Now, breathe, relax. You're in control."

"Promise me that if I lose... you won't leave," you asked in a soft, vulnerable whisper.

Leah was silent for a few seconds before she spoke again. "You won't lose. You'll win the next points, get through this round, and then we'll go rest."

"That's not what I asked," you said, almost pleading.

You heard Leah sigh. "I promise, I won't leave, no matter what."

Leah kept talking after that, slowly helping you keep it together, distracting you from the chaos around and within you. Her voice was a steady anchor, grounding you in the moment, making you feel like everything might just be okay.

An hour later, the game finally resumed. As soon as you stepped onto the court, it was clear you weren’t the same player from the first set. Your arms felt heavy, and your legs were shaky. The sky still looked threatening, and the air felt different from a few hours ago. You glanced at Feya, who seemed to be loving this new scenario, walking energetically to her spot while you felt like you were moving through mud.

Passing by your team's section, you couldn't even lift your head so you just shook it. You needed to pull yourself together. Unzipping your top a bit, you grabbed the chain around your neck. This was where you were supposed to be, and you had to push through. You wouldn't let Leah see you as a loser.

But thinking about it was easier than doing it.

Your serve was awful, like you had butter on your hands making the racket slip. You couldn't get any balls inside the lines. With each missed serve, frustration built up inside you, making it harder to rally and cheer yourself up.

As the match dragged on, you were piling up unforced errors, practically handing points to your opponent with every shot. You needed to pull yourself together before Feya completely wrecked your game.

"Focus Y/n," you muttered, adjusting your visor, sweat dripping from your forehead more from nerves than from running around. You took a deep breath, trying to channel all your frustration into your wrist as you prepared to hit the ball. Unfortunately, your swing lacked precision, and the ball ended up hitting the net.

The game was now at 40-15 to Feya. One more mistake and she would go up 4-2. You hadn't won a single game since the rain delay. Right now, you just needed to get the ball over the net, just that one simple task first. Trying to stay calm, you managed a clean serve. Luckily, Feya returned it weakly, and you seized the opportunity, smashing the ball with all your strength, aiming for the line.

The ball landed just behind Feya, and you heard the crowd cheering, but there was no time to celebrate as Feya immediately challenged the call.

"The ball never touched the line!" she argued with the umpire. Your stomach knotted up as you watched the exchange.

You knew she was right a minute later. 

“Game, Feya,” the umpire said into the mic, giving the point to your opponent. Feya was already celebrating, waving to the crowd.

You felt the weight of the match pressing down on you. It was a tough blow, but you couldn't let it break your spirit. You had to regroup and fight back.

Hearing the crowd go wild for Feya was overwhelming. Every cheer and clap made you feel smaller and smaller on the court. The cheers that used to lift you up now felt like they were weighing you down.

You glanced over at Lucas, hoping for some reassurance, but his face was as blank as ever, trying hard not to show any concern. Hesitating, you looked towards Leah, just a couple of seats to the right. She gave you a small thumbs up and a faint smile, a quiet gesture that seemed to offer a bit of calm.

“Come on!” Feya shouted after nailing another winning shot. Her excitement felt like a stark contrast to your growing despair.

When you went back to your chair, you took a sip of water and tried to calm your breathing. Leah’s words kept running through your head. 

“You’re in control”

But right now, it felt like that control was slipping through your fingers.

“Come on, breathe,” you muttered to yourself, but it felt like the air was stuck in your lungs. You shut your eyes and clenched your fists, feeling the sweat and frustration mix on your palms.

When you got back to the court, it was like your body was on autopilot. Every swing felt off, and your movements were sluggish. Your opponent was all over you, dragging you from corner to corner, wearing you down physically and mentally.

By the last game of the second set, you weren’t even trying to win points anymore. You just wanted it to be over. You promised yourself you’d pull it together and make a comeback in the third set.

You sank into the chair again, trying to catch your breath and calm your racing thoughts. Taking a long sip of water, you glanced around. The sky was finally starting to clear, with the sun making a slow comeback behind the clouds. A gentle breeze brushed against your face, and you shut your eyes for a moment, trying to recapture the focus that had slipped away.

Man, if only the weather had been like this all day. Leah was right, you’d need some time to really appreciate this place, but you were willing to give it a shot, just for her. You daydreamed about hanging out with her, going for a lazy walk, or just chilling at her place,  breathing in her scent and running your fingers through her hair. If only you could wrap up this match and get to enjoy those moments, where you could kiss her, let her hug you, and hear all those cheesy lines of hers that make your heart flutter.

But first, you had to win this. You didn’t want Leah to have to comfort you; you wanted her to celebrate your victory and be proud to be with someone who had accomplished something great. You were determined to give her that.

The umpire called you and Feya back onto the court for the start of the third set. You knew you needed to grab an early lead to turn things around. Feya was looking pretty cocky, flashing a grin that made it seem like she was reading your every move. But you couldn’t let that get to you. It was all about focusing on each point.

You took your spot on the baseline, mentally gearing up for battle. The umpire's voice cut through the tension, announcing the start of the final set.

Feya served first, and the ball came toward you with impressive speed. But you were ready for it this time. It was the same serve you’d seen throughout the previous set. You sprang into action, positioning yourself for a powerful forehand return. You whipped the ball with a deep, precise cross court backhand, the kind you’d been perfecting ever since Leah had pointed out how well you were executing that shot in some or your previous dates. Feya managed a weak return, and you seized the opportunity, charging forward and smashing the ball into the opposite corner. Feya was left scrambling halfway down the court.

0-15

You felt a burst of confidence. You looked over at Leah and for the first time in the match, flashed her a big, genuine smile. It was like a switch had flipped, and you were right back in your element.

The next point turned up the heat even more.  Feya tried a serve and volley move, but you were quick on your feet. You lunged forward and nailed a backhand volley that just skimmed the net, landing right on the baseline. Feya had no chance of reaching it.

0-30

You could see Feya starting to lose her cool. She was slipping back to the nervous player from the first set, just like you were getting back into your game. Realizing she needed a new strategy, she started hitting higher and deeper shots to mess with you, but you stayed calm and took your time to set up your shots.

In one of the rallies, you spotted your chance. Feya sent up a short, high ball. You smacked a topspin drive that landed perfectly in the corner of the court.

court.

0-40

The game was slipping into your control. With every point you won, your confidence surged back. You knew you had to keep up this level of play. You took your position to receive the next serve, focused and ready. Feya tried an open serve, but you anticipated it perfectly, firing back with a powerful cross court shot. After a few intense exchanges, you decided to end it, pushing Feya into a tough spot. With a decisive forehand, you wrapped up the game.

“Game, Y/n” the umpire called out.

You celebrated with a big grin, clapping your hands together, just like Feya had done earlier.

“Williamson,” Lucas’s voice made Leah jump. She turned to find him with a serious look on his face. “What did you do to her?”

“Huh?” Leah was confused.

“Whatever it is, keep it up. My girl’s on fire.” Lucas said with a huge smile, almost with a hint of pride.

“I didn’t do anything, sir,” Leah tried to explain, as she watched you return to your spot after the break.

You had a serious look on your face, eyes focused straight ahead. Leah swallowed hard. You were a whole different player now compared to the previous set. Back then, she’d seen your hands shaking. Now, you were celebrating each point with passion, flashing her big smiles and winks after every great shot. Leah couldn’t help but think you were dedicating those moments to her, and she wasn’t wrong. 

All Leah wanted now was a cold shower, and if she could share it with you, even better.

The score was 2-5 in the final set, and it was your turn to serve. The whole court felt electric, with everyone hanging on every move, knowing this moment could be the game changer. Leah sighed deeply, watching as you neared the end of what had been one of your toughest matches.

You stood at the baseline, gripping your racket tightly, trying to calm the nerves buzzing inside you. You were determined to finish this match on a high note. You took a deep breath, focusing on the task at hand, knowing that you could turn things around with the right mindset.

You tossed the ball into the air and served it with precision and power, landing right in the corner of the service box. Your opponent barely managed to get her racket on it, sending back a high, weak shot. You moved in quickly, taking full advantage and smacking a winning volley that left no chance for a return.

0-15

The next point was a real battle. You and Feya were just slamming shots back and forth from the baseline, moving side to side all over the court. Then, you broke the pattern with a killer cross court backhand that pushed your opponent into a corner. Desperate, she tried a smash, but it went wide.

“Out!”

0-30. You were almost there. 

The crowd was now buzzing with excitement, sensing the win was within reach. You took a deep breath and got ready for your next serve. This time, you went for a powerful serve to the corner. The ball shot off your racket and bounced before Feya could even react.

“Ace!”

You were on match point.

The court fell silent after a second, everyone waiting for you to close it out. This was your moment, the chance to turn things around and give the crowd something to cheer about after the previous set. With a grin, you adjusted your visor and shot Leah a playful look as you tightened your gold chain. You knew exactly what you were doing, and you hoped she did too.

You tossed the ball up again, locking in on it. Your serve was fast and right on target, aimed at the T. Your opponent reached for it, but the ball zoomed past her, landing perfectly in the corner.

“Ace!”

“Game, set, match,” the umpire announced.

You raised your arms up as the crowd went wild.

After all the interviews, press conferences, and autograph signings, you finally had time for Leah. You spotted her, she was chatting with Jane, and without a second thought, you sprinted over to her, not caring about the hours your legs spent on the court before. You jumped into her arms, knowing Leah would catch you, no matter what.

“Careful, darling!” she laughed, catching you with just one arm around your waist. You were drenched in sweat and out of breath, but Leah didn't seem to mind at all. “How do you feel?” she whispered in your ear. 

“Like I’m the best tennis player in the world,” you said with a cheeky grin.

“Hm, you might not be feeling that great tomorrow,” Jane said with a roll of her eyes, giving you a friendly shove to get you off Leah. “Let the poor girl breathe, she was on edge the whole game, and her legs must be killing her now.” she added, grabbing your bag and heading off, leaving you alone with Leah.

After you two were alone, you noticed Leah was carrying a huge bag and that’s why she’d only used one arm to hold you. “What’s in the bag?” you asked

“Oh, um… ” Leah’s face went red as she scratched the back of her neck. “Well, I had a lot of free time during the rain delay and... I was a bit nervous too, so I ended up going to the Wimbledon store.”

Before Leah could react, you snatched the bag from her hand.

“Damn, Leah,” you said, trying to hide your laugh by covering your mouth with your hand. “What the heck, did you bring the whole store?”

“Hey, I didn’t get to shop last year, and I needed some stuff,” she said, cringing as you started pulling things out of the bag. A lot of keychains, strawberry-shaped ones, little tennis rackets, and balls. “How many keys do you have that you need this many keychains?” you teased.

“Some of them are for gifts,” Leah said, quickly snatching them from your hands.

You reached in again and pulled out a huge green blanket. “What’s this for?”

“I was freezing! Unlike you, I was standing around and it was cold!” Leah said, her eyes wide as she almost panicked.

“Please tell me you didn’t get the Wimbledon socks,” you said, barely whispering, but Leah’s guilty look said it all.

“Don’t look at me like that! They’re absolutely my style!” Leah shot back, looking offended. “I can definitely pull them off!”

You thought about it for a second... Yeah, Leah had this way of rocking whatever she wore.

"Alright, you’ve got a point there, babe,” you said with a bit of a chuckle, feeling a bit defeated.

"Thanks," Leah replied, her smile warming up as she heard the nickname. “And I got one more thing,” she said, getting serious as she grabbed the bag and pulled out a giant tennis ball. “Here,” she said, handing it to you.

“What do you expect me to do with this?” you asked, eyeing the ball, it was one of those that kids get autographed all the time. “Leah, are you for real?”

Leah didn't say a word at first. Instead, she walked over to you and gently placed both hands on your waist. Leaning in close, she whispered, “What do I need to do to get my favorite tennis player’s autograph?” She gave you a quick, sweet kiss on the tip of your nose. “Is that enough?”

“I’ll think about it,” you murmured, almost lost in the sensation of her breath brushing against yours.

Leah shook her head with a playful smile and cupped the back of your neck, guiding you into a deep, tender kiss. 

“Congratulations on making it through the round,” she murmured between kisses, her voice filled with warmth and pride. Your smile widened as you let the joy of her affection wash over you.

“Maybe you are a lucky charm” you whispered. 

[itneverendshere]

school spirit and all! - soccer!frat!rafe cameron (+18) - part iii (final)

warnings: angst; smut; reader being bad with feelings; jj is a flirt.

word count: 6.3k (sorry)

what the fuck. 

as soon as the words left his mouth, you wondered how many hits to the head soccer players got each match, because there was no way in hell rafe cameron was in love with you.

suddenly hyperaware of your nakedness, you stood up, almost falling off his bed in the process.

in a frantic scramble, you reached for your clothes, tugging on your jersey inside out and hopping around on one foot trying to pull up your shorts.

"what's wrong with you?! we just had sex!"

rafe blinked, still dazed from your anything but innocent activities.

“uh, yeah, that's kind of when these feelings hit me.”

you paused, one leg in your levis shorts, the other still “bare”, and shot him a look. 

 "you don't just drop the l-word after sex! are you insane!" you managed to get your shorts up and fastened, albeit a bit crookedly, “jesus christ.”

“i didn’t mean to freak you out, it just came—"

“yeah, well, maybe lead with something less dramatic” you snorted, tugging your shirt the right way around. "i mean, who does that?"

he laughed, the sound rich and warm, and for a moment you were torn between being annoyed and charmed, “i’m sorry. i meant it tho.”

“no, you didn’t.” you shot back, rolling your eyes as you fumbled with your shoelaces.

“i did,” he insisted, his voice earnest, but you were too busy wrestling with your stubborn converse to look up.

“you don't even know me."

"course i do," he looked offended, like you insulted him, "your birthday is on october 8th, and your favorite color is blue. your favorite food is picanha and kimchi ramyeon. you do this thing when you're happy where you just speak really loud, all the time and when your favorite song comes on, which is all of them really, you always squeal—"

you think you lost at least three brain cells as you stood there, jaw dropped to the floor, listening to him list all the things he knew about you.

correctly.

"y’know what sherlock?” you said suddenly, standing up, finally fully dressed but still feeling exposed. “i need some air. a lot of it.”

“what?”

“i’m leaving.”

“wait—" you hear the sound of sheets ruffling, “wait a sec—dammit!”

you didn't look back as you hurried out of his room, the sounds of the frat party thumping from downstairs, music seeping through the walls. the hallway was packed with people, and you pushed your way through the crowd, your mind racing. oh my god. everyone was seeing you leave rafe cameron’s room in a hurry. there was no way in hell you’d have a peaceful week after this.

you were almost reaching the door when you felt a hand grab your upper arm. you turned around to see rafe, now dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, “can we talk about this?”

the music was deafening, forcing you to practically scream to be heard. “what part of 'too much' don’t you get?”

“why?” he asked, his voice barely cutting through the noise. “why does it have to be too much?”

“because it is!” you shouted, then softened your tone just enough to be less harsh, “just let it go.”

he let go of your arm, but his eyes stayed locked on yours. “’m not asking you to say it back, okay?”

you felt the weight of curious eyes on you. the partygoers’ stares only made you want to leave even more. desperation clawed at your chest.

rafe closed his eyes, shaking his head slightly, “did that really feel like only sex to you?”

you bit your lip, the regret hitting you immediately, but you couldn't stop now. you needed to get out.

“yeah.” you replied, even though your heart screamed at you to take it back.

he stepped back, letting go of your arm completely. “fine. go on then," he said, his tone flat and lifeless. “just go.”

“i’m sorry—" you started again, but rafe's expression hardened. he’d never looked at you like that and you hated every single second of it.

he stepped back further, creating a physical distance, as if to save himself the hurt, “leave.”

you didn’t have to be told twice, you wanted to be anywhere but there. you couldn't delete the image of his face when you rejected him from your brain. 

as soon as you were outisde, you pulled out your phone, and dialed pope's number. he picked up on the third ring, his voice laced with excitement.

"the dick was that bad? i could've sworn—”

tears were already threatening to fall as you tried to steady your voice. "pope, can you... can you pick me up?"

“huh?”

"i just... i need to get out of here," you managed, voice cracking as you wrapped an arm around yourself, feeling strangely exposed.

"shit. okay. i'll be there in ten minutes.”

you found a quiet spot near the edge of the campus, too embarrassed to sit outside rafe’s frathouse with so many people coming and going. leaning against a tree, you sank down, hugging your knees to your chest.

what the hell were you doing? had you just permanently ruined your friendship with rafe? let your little mommy issues get ahead of you?

when pope finally pulled up in his car, you climbed in wordlessly, unable to meet his eyes. 

“what did he do? you want me to punch him? cause y’know i’ll call jj and we—"

you leaned your head against the cool glass of the car window, “this was such a fucking bad idea.”

he glanced at you briefly before focusing back on the road, “what? why?”

“because.”

pope's brow furrowed in confusion. "what did he say?"

"that he loved me.”

“what the fuck?!" your body jolted forward, your heart racing from the sudden stop. the motherfucker accidentally slammed the brakes.

“pope, what the hell?”

“my bad, fuck,” he muttered, regaining control of the car and easing back onto the road, “he dropped that shit on you?”

“yeah.”

“okay, that’s kinda fucked, but—“ pope glanced at you again, concern etched on his face. “look, cameron might be a lot of things, but he’s not a liar. man, he’s the complete opposite if you ask me. too fucking honest for his own good.”

“he picked the worst time to be honest,” you muttered, wiping away a tear, “i literally had his dick in my hands!”

“dude!” pope faux-gagged, “i don’t need the details, jesus.”

“sorry,” you said, half-laughing through your tears. “it’s just... how can he love me? he doesn’t even know me! that’s what’s pissing me off the most.”

that was a lie.

pope sighed, shaking his head. “i don’t know, but it sounds like he’s really into you. you spent a lot of time together, right? maybe he knows you better than you think.”

he does.

“don’t get smart on me pope howard. i need your support right now, not this sentimentalist bullshit.”

pope chuckled, “you’ve got to talk to him. y’know that, right?”

you groaned, lifting the palms of your hands to your eyes, “why?”

“because you care about him, you dumbass. that’s fucking obvious.”

“stop making sense,” you mumbled, sighing heavily. “i need you to be angry with me, pope.”

he shook his head, a small smile playing at his lips. "i'm your best friend. my job is to tell you what you need to hear, not what you want to hear.”

you slumped further into your seat, “this is your fault anyway. you planted the stupid idea in my brain.”

“me? this is all you.”

your mouth dropped, “be fucking serious. you told me to sleep with him! for sports!”

“yeah, okay, i’ll take the blame but…”

“but?” you narrowed your eyes in warning, “but what?”

he shrugged innocently, “you never listened to me up to that point. i didn’t think you’d do it. that’s gotta mean something.”

“stop making me think,” you muttered under your breath, letting your head fall back against the seat. “i just want to forget this whole night happened.”

“maybe you just need some time to figure out how you feel.”

“i don’t feel anything,” you lied, staring out the window at the passing lights. “he’s just rafe cameron.”

pope sighed again, the kind of sigh that said he didn’t believe you for a second. “whatever you say."”

he dropped you off at your dorm, waiting until you were inside before driving away. you made your way to your room, collapsing onto your bed. why did you feel like such a terrible person?

you grabbed your phone and scrolled through your contacts, stopping at rafe’s name. your thumb hovered over the call button before you shook your head, tossing the phone aside.

you needed time. time to think, time to breathe, and time to figure out what the hell you wanted.

the next morning, you woke up with a headache and a sense of unease that settled deep in your chest. you dragged yourself out of bed. pope had texted you, a simple “hope you’re okay <3” that made you smile despite everything. you quickly replied, assuring him you were fine, even if you didn’t fully believe it.

you weren’t.

not when your first class of the day was with rafe. but you could do it.

you walked into class just in time, like you always did, only this time you were dreading the inevitable awkwardness of being sat next to rafe.

you hadn’t thought this through. he usually got here before you, real heavy on being on time for everything he did. you tried to keep your eyes locked on the professor, who was gathering the material for class, but you still took small peeks towards the door, expecting to see him stroll in at any given moment.

except he never did. as the lecture progressed, he never showed up. 

when the professor eventually asked about his whereabouts, kelce, his friend who sat a few rows behind you, raised his hand casually.

“rafe’s not feeling well today,” kelce spoke up, his tone nonchalant. he glanced over at you briefly, a knowing look in his eyes that made your stomach twist. 

oh great, so now you were the witch of the wicked west to all his friends. 

the professor nodded sympathetically. “alright, thank you for letting me know, kelce. make sure he gets the notes from today’s lecture.”

kelce nodded in acknowledgment, and the class moved on, but your mind was racing. rafe skipping class wasn’t like him. the timing felt deliberate, almost as if he was avoiding you after last night. 

as the lecture continued, you realized rafe wouldn’t be the only one needing notes. all you’d done for two hours was scramble down a few words, none of them making any sense. you struggled to focus on the material. every glance towards the door was met with disappointment.

maybe this was serious. maybe he hated you now.

after what felt like an eternity, the class finally ended. packing up your things, you hesitated before deciding to approach kelce, who lingered near his seat. you’d only spoken to him a handful of times, mainly when you and rafe studied back at the frat house.

kelce was nice. but the look he was giving you now, was anything but.

"hey, kelce," you began, trying to sound casual.

"hey," kelce replied cautiously, eyeing you up and down. 

you swallowed, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his scrutiny.

"um, is rafe okay? is he sick?”

he nodded slowly, his gaze unwavering, “the flu. got it last night."

"l-last night?” 

“yup.”

“oh.”

kelce's brows furrowed slightly, “look, i don’t know what happened. but, he’s…not doing okay.”

your stomach sank. it was clear rafe was avoiding you, and the guilt gnawed at you even more. "i just... i didn't mean to..."

kelce cut you off gently, his voice softening. "that’s none of my business.”

"yeah," you murmured, feeling utterly inadequate.

"he'll come around," kelce reassured you, though his tone lacked conviction.

you nodded dumbly, unsure of what else to say. part of you wanted to apologize again, but...you’d done nothing wrong. there was no need to explain yourself.

"thanks," you managed weakly, offering a half-hearted smile.

kelce nodded in response, his expression remaining neutral. with that, you turned and hurried out of the classroom, feeling the weight of kelce's gaze on your back. the hallways felt suffocating, with whispered conversations and curious glances that only amplified your discomfort. did everyone know? was there a journal column telling everyone who got laid last night? fucking hell.

back in your dorm room, you collapsed onto your bed, burying your face in your hands. this was worse than what you’d expected. you couldn't stop seeing the image of rafe's hurt expression, his quiet insistence that he meant what he said.

your phone buzzed beside you, and you hesitated before picking it up, sighing in realief when you saw it was a text from pope.

"baaaabeeee, how did it go?"

did he really want to know the mess you'd made of things?

after a moment's hesitation, you replied with a simple, "not great. think everyone hates me lol"

pope's response was almost immediate. “shit. you wanna to talk about it?"

you bit your lip, undecided between wanting to unload everything and wanting to bury it all deep down. in the end, you settled for a brief reply. “later."

that went on for a week and three days.

you avoided rafe’s usual hangouts, keeping your head down and focusing on your classes. you still hadn’t seen him, and it was starting to drive you crazy. you needed to talk to him, but you were scared. like, shitless scared, of what he’d say, scared of what you’d feel.

it was hours later when you finally saw him again. you were in the library, buried in your notes, the ones who’d stolen from pope because you hadn’t been able to focus properly in any class and you hated that you’d let a boy have so much control over your brain, let alone a jock.

when you looked up and saw him standing at the entrance. he looked a little too good. the typical shorts hitting just above his knees, a loose sleeveless shirt that showed off his muscles way too much for your sanity, and his hair peeking out from under a snapback. 

good enough to eat.

he spotted you almost immediately and then quickly turned his head to side, ignoring you. 

ouch. okay, fair enough all things considered.

your heart skipped a beat. it was now or never. for a moment, you considered hiding, but you knew you couldn’t avoid him forever. taking a deep breath, you stood up and made your way over to him.

“hey,” you said softly, your heart pounding in your chest, trying to sound as casual as possible.

rafe looked up for a second, then returned his attention to the phone in his hands, “hey.”

“can we talk?” you asked.

he shrugged, and it took everything in you not to punch him in the face. “sure.”

you swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. “sorry about the other night. i-i didn’t handle it well.”

he nodded, but his gaze remained on his phone, fingers typing away. “yeah, i get it.”

you frowned, sensing that something was off. he’d never ignored you before, he wasn’t even giving you the dignity of looking at you as you spoke to him. 

“are you okay?”

“fine,” he replied curtly.

before you could ask him what the fuck is problem was now, a girl approached, her smile bright, almost blinding you. she was ridiculously pretty, with long braided hair and sparkling brown eyes.

a literal doll.

she looked between you and rafe, “hi, are you ready to go?”

your heart sank as the girl slipped her arm around rafe’s arm and he finally put his stupid phone away and smiled down at her.

heavy on the ouch.

“yeah, let’s go,” rafe said, his voice softening, but then he turned to you, his expression blank again, “see you around.”

you stood there, watching them walk away feeling like a complete fucking idiot. like you were being pranked. what the hell was that? was he trying to make you jealous? or was he moving on that quickly? was there even something to move on from?

you returned to your seat, barely registering the world around you.

is that what he meant by telling you he loved you? you’ve been feeling bad over a boy who clearly only said what he said because you fucked him too good? wow.

you tried to focus on your notes, but your hands were trembling. without realizing it, you started tearing at the pages, ripping them apart. by the time you looked down, half of your notes were in shreds, scattered across the table.

“dammit,” you hissed under your breath. you gathered the torn pieces, stuffing them into your bag. there was no salvaging them now. 

with a frustrated sigh, you pulled out your phone and dialed pope’s number. 

“what’s up?”

“i need to get fucked up tonight.” you said bluntly, not bothering to hide the frustration you were feeling. 

“buy a guy a drink first?”

you could hear him snicker at his own joke, “shut up. are there any parties?”

“yeah, heard there's a big one at the delta house. everyone’s going.”

“okay. we’re going too.”

pope sighed, “i don’t remember signing up for this.”

“shut up and pick me up at 9.”

you decided that tonight was the night to go all out. no more hiding, no more feeling sorry for yourself. you rummaged through your closet, tossing aside clothes that were too plain, too boring, or just not the vibe you were going for. 

finally, you found it—the perfect outfit, and possibly the sluttiest thing you proudly owned.

you slipped into a sleek, black leather mini skirt that hugged your curves perfectly, hitting just the right spot on your thighs. you paired it with a cropped, red satin top that showed just enough skin to be daring but not over the top. the top had a deep v-neckline, accentuating your collarbones and drawing attention to the delicate gold necklace you wore. the outfit was completed with a pair of knee-high black boots, giving you an edge and adding a few extra inches to your height. you never wore them out, too worried that your feet would be killing you after a couple of minutes, but tonight, if you got drunk enough, you wouldn’t feel shit.

you looked at yourself in the mirror, adjusting the top and smoothing down the skirt. 

your makeup was bold, different from what you usually did—a smoky eye that made your eyes pop and a deep red lipstick that matched your top perfectly. you left your hair loose, allowing it to fall in soft waves. satisfied with your look, you grabbed a small clutch and headed out.

when pope arrived to pick you up, his jaw practically hit the floor. he stared at you, eyes wide, as you strutted towards the car.

“i'm sorry—are we going to a strip club or to a party?” he blurted out.

"are you slutshaming me?"

"no, but be real for a second."

you rolled your eyes, but a small smirk played on your lips. “don’t be dramatic. just wanted to look good.”

“look good?” pope repeated, still in disbelief, “sweets, you always look good, okay? but this? you look like you’re about to rip someone’s heart out.”

“good,” you replied, sliding into the passenger seat. “that’s the goal.”

he shook his head, muttering something under his breath about needing to keep an eye on you all night.

“you’re gonna tell me what happened?”

“nothing happened.”

“right.”

the delta house was already packed when you arrived, the music thumping so loud you could feel it in your chest. you walked in with pope by your side, determined to leave all your worries at the door.

“alright, let’s get some drinks,” pope clapped his hands, rubbing them together before leading you to the makeshift bar. you could feel eyes on you as you walked through the crowd, whispers and stares following your every step. you ignored them. 

so what if people knew you fucked rafe? that was your business, not theirs.

you grabbed a tequilla shot, downing it quickly and feeling the alcohol warm you up from the inside. pope handed you another, and you sipped it more slowly, trying to steady your nerves.

“easy. ‘m not holding your hair back if you throw up,” he warned, nudging you gently. “just relax and have fun. cleo’s joining later.”

“awwww, look at you being soft."

“shut up. don’t embarrass me in front of her."

you placed your hand over your heart, “i would never!”

the night wore on, the party growing louder. you danced, laughed, and mingled, trying to keep your mind off rafe and the mess you'd made of things. pope stuck by your side, and cleo, the girl of his dreams, joined you eventually, her energy infectious. 

you were happy he’d found someone. 

you were at the bar, grabbing another drink, when you saw rafe walk in.

your heart nearly dropped out of your ass, but you forced yourself to stay calm. he was with the same girl from the library and seeing them together made your stomach churn. he hadn't even noticed you yet, too busy talking to her.

"pope," you called, nudging him. "look who's here."

pope glanced over and sighed. "ignore him, please. we're here to have fun, remember?"

you nodded, drowning another shot, "right. fun."

it was easier said than done. every time you glanced their way, you wanted to storm up to him and punch him in that stupid perfect face. why did it bother you so much? he was just a guy. just rafe cameron. you downed another drink, hoping the alcohol would numb the emotions swirling inside you.

“goddamn mama, are you drinking yourself to death?”

jj’s presence barely phased you, “yes.”

“what’s got you so worked up?”

you groaned, not really in the mood for his antics. “nothing. just havin’ a good time.”

“yeah, right,” jj snorted, stealing your drink and taking a sip. “try again. this shit is 95% vodka by the way.”

you snatched it from his hands, “don’t drink my shit. don’t wanna talk about it.”

“alright,” he held up his hands in mock surrender, “dance with me then?”

“no.”

“pleaseee,” he begged, jutting out his bottom lip in a ridiculous pout, “c’mon.

despite your best efforts to stay frustrated, his infectious energy made you crack a smile. "fine, but just one song maybank."

jj whooped, “atta girl.”

he grabbed your hand with a mischievous grin and pulled you onto the crowded dance floor. you laughed as he twirled you around, his movements were surprisingly graceful. one time he made you faceplant the floor, so this was an improvement. 

his energy has always been infectious, jj was a literal golden retriever in human from and soon enough you found yourself letting go of all the worries that had been weighing you down. you moved in sync with him, your hips swaying, and your arms following the flow of the music. jj’s playful antics kept you entertained—he'd throw in a spin or a sudden dip, making you laugh even harder.

but then, he leaned in close, his voice barely audible over the music.

“guess who's watching?"

you raised an eyebrow, trying to catch your breath between giggles.

"who?"

jj nodded towards the edge of the dance floor, where rafe stood with a group of his friends. “my number one fan. been eyeing us since we started."

“uh,” you glanced in his direction, catching rafe’s gaze briefly before he looked away, “that’s weird.”

“i know you two fucked.”

your hand instantly reached out to shove jj’s shoulder, “shut up.”

“i'm serious. you’re gonna let him watch or show him what he's missing?"

on one hand, you were furious at rafe for bringing another girl to the party so soon after whatever had happened between you two. after telling you he was in love with you. sure you were a bitch after, but that didn’t mean you didn’t care for him. on the other hand, jj’s always made you go off the rails, in a way that stoked your pride. 

“fine,” you said with a defiant grin, “let’s give him a show.”

jj’s smirk widened, and without missing a beat, he spun you around and pulled you in closer, moving with even more enthusiasm than before. the music pounded around you, you couldn’t even tell the lyrics apart. every twirl, every dip, every sway of your hips was a message to rafe—whether he was watching or not—that you were done feeling sorry for yourself. as the song reached its peak, jj dipped you low, and you laughed breathlessly. you glanced towards where rafe had been standing, but he was gone.

then, without warning, from the corner of your eye, you saw a commotion erupting nearby. before you could react, the crowd around you began to murmur and part, revealing rafe. what the hell? what was this? a coming-of-age movie?

his usually friendly composed demeanor was gone, the glare in him was enough to scare anyone in his way. he stormed towards you, his eyes locked on jj. and then it clicked.

“oh for fuck's sake,” you groaned under your breath, knowing that nothing good would come out of it.

"hey, what the—" jj started, but before he could finish, rafe swung a punch at him.

yep, there it was. 

the blow caught jj off guard, knocking him back a step. the music seemed to stop, or at least fade into the background as chaos erupted around you. people gasped and shouted, some pulling rafe away while others checked on jj.

you pinched the bridge of your nose in annoyance as you watched jj touch his jaw gingerly. 

“what the fuck, cameron?” jj groaned, “watch the pretty face.”

rafe’s chest was heaving as he glared at the other blonde, fists typically clenched by his side, looking as if he was ready to pounce on him again. before he could take another step, you placed yourself in front of him, blocking jj’s figure sitting on the ground.

“upstairs. right now,” rafe opened his mouth to spit something, but you cut him off, “now.”

he moved silently, following you up a flight of stairs to a quieter area. you could hear his breathing from miles away, he was still worked up. you found an empty room and stepped inside, slamming the door shut behind you.

“what the hell was that?” you demanded, turning to face him.

rafe ran a hand through his face, frustration evident in his every movement. “i don’t know, okay? i just—i saw you with him, and i lost it.”

“oh, so you’re a caveman now?”

"god, you can be so fucking infuriating," rafe exploded, throwing his jacket into a corner of the room, "i saw you. touching him like... like none of this matters!"

"none of what matters?" you shot back, incredulous. "you show up with another girl after telling me you love me, and now i‘m not supposed to move on? what do you expect?"

"me?!" he jabbed a finger into his chest, his face flushed with anger. "that was my damn tutor! i wasn't trying to—shit. you think i'm trying to move on? i told you i loved you. that shit doesn’t just disappear because you don't feel the same way."

now you just felt stupid.

"your tutor?" you repeated, trying to wrap your head around the new information.

“we weren’t exactly on speaking terms and i needed help with calculus,” he muttered, “didn’t think you’d want to speak to me. and i was still sad.”

rafe shifted uncomfortably in his place, his expression now softer. you felt the sudden urge to hug him, but you didn’t. 

“you said you were supposed to move on,” he says carefully eyeing you.

“i did?” you lied, suddenly feeling like the room was closing in on you, “i don’t think so.”

“you did,” he said firmly, taking a step closer to you. "i meant what i said that night. did you?” 

you looked away for a moment, “rafe—“

“i don’t care if you don’t love me, you don’t have to, not right now. i just need to know if you think you can, one day.”

this wasn’t the rafe who punched jj, or the rafe who stormed through the crowd in a fit of jealousy. this was the rafe you were used to. 

your ears were ringing as he closed the distance between you. his eyes searching yours, desperate for an answer. the anger had melted away, replaced by a raw, aching need. fuck, he was good.

“listen—” you started again, but this time your voice was softer, trembling. he was so close now that you could feel the heat radiating off his body, his breath mingling with yours, “can you back up? jesus. can’t think properly with you close.”

“don’t want to back up,” he whispered, his voice low and rough. he didn’t move, instead leaning in even closer, his lips brushing your ear, “yes or no?”

“cameron,” you breathed, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

but he wasn’t having it.

his hand cupped your cheek, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “tell me you don’t feel this,” he murmured, his thumb tracing your lower lip. “tell me you don’t want me too.”

he held your face by the jaw before leaning forward on instinct to kiss you but stopped himself right before he did. eyes on his lips now, completely entranced, you leaned forward to finish what he started but he was stopping you with his thumb. you stayed close though, gaze still fixated on his bottom lip and when his eyes flicker up to yours again, they’re wild and dark.

“you gonna make me fuck it out of you?”

you couldn’t deny the way your body reacted to him, the way your pulse quickened every time he was near, “and if i do?”

he didn't answer immediately, instead closing the gap between you in a heartbeat. his lips crashed against yours, his hand sliding from your jaw to your neck, wrapping his fingers around it as he squeezed you deliciously. 

all of a sudden, you were pressed against a wall, his body firm against yours, pinning you with his weight. he got a groan out of you, tilting your head as his grip tightened on your hips to keep you there, secured to him.

“this isn’t fair,” you pushed at his shoulder with your palm so that he pulled away to look at you, “you’re playing dirty.”

“so what?” he breathes out, jaw relaxed as his hips start to grind against yours.

your hand reached out to grab his shoulder for purchase when your hips started to move on their own, “oh fuck.”

rafe arched his hips sharply, teasing your clit, eliciting a gasp as you leaned your head against the wall, your chin tilting towards the ceiling. he kissed your neck, where sweat-dampened hair started to cling at your nape.

when did it get so hot in the stupid room?

“you’re—oh, gonna f-fuck me in a stranger’s room? real romantic,” you tried to sound casual, but it came out all wrong when his fingers pressed into the plush of your ass. 

he laughed against your skin, the sound making you tighten your legs around him. you were glad his hands were currently busy because a single touch between your thighs would expose how wet you were. 

“you can say it.”

your arms slided past his shoulders and loosely locked behind his neck, “no.”

rafe shook his head, “you asked for it.”

“rafe.”

he was poking his tongue to the inside of his cheek looking at you as if he was ready do destroy you whole, “told you i was gonna get it out of you.”

you blinked slowly, savoring the sight of his face, then your wrists, still crossed behind his neck, tugged gently, drawing him closer, craving his threat, “you’re gonna fuck me until i confess?

he lowered his head until his forehead met yours, your fingers could sense the rapid throb of his pulse beneath his jaw, his eyes tender, holding an adoration you never knew was possible. no one had ever looked at you that way. 

you pulled him by the fabric of his shirt, hard enough to make him understand he needed to do something. you moaned against his lips, fingers threading through his hair as he trailed kisses down your neck, sucking and biting gently at the sensitive skin.

your skirt rode up as he rutted into you, and his hand slipped under the fabric, fingers grazing the edge of your panties, teasingly close to where you ached for him most. you gasped, arching into his touch, silently begging for more.

“rafeee,” you whimpered, “please."

he pulled back slightly, his breath ragged, eyes dark with lust. “say it,” he demanded, his fingers tracing patterns on your inner thigh, driving you crazy with anticipation.

“no.” you managed to choke out, feeling a flush of heat spread through your body.

he raised a brow, “no?”

his fingers slipped beneath the thin fabric of your panties, finding you wet and ready. he groaned at the feel of you, his thumb circling your clit with just the right amount of pressure to make you moan his name. you clung to him, hips bucking against his hand, chasing the pleasure he was giving you.

“you sure?” he murmured against your skin, his voice husky and full of promise. 

you barely had time to think about changing your answer before he plunged two thick fingers inside you, curling them just right to hit that spot that made your vision blur. your back arched off the wall, your head falling back as waves of pleasure crashed over you. he pumped his fingers in and out of you, his thumb never leaving your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“rafe, i'm—” you couldn’t even finish the sentence, your body trembling as you felt the orgasm build, ready to spill over.

but then he was pulling back just as you were about to fall over the edge. it was maddening, the way he seemed to know exactly how to bring you right to the cusp of pleasure and then deny it. you’d only fucked once before, and it felt like he’d memorize every single thing you liked. every spot that made your toes curl. 

“please, let me—”

“you said no, baby” he interrupted, a mocking smile curling on his lips. “you’re not ready.”

his fingers moved with practiced precision, slow and deliberate, stoking the flames of your desire without allowing you any release. every time you felt the pleasure building to its peak, he’d ease off, bringing you back down, only to start all over again.

you clawed at his shoulders, trying to pull him closer, but he held you firm against the wall, his body a solid, unyielding barrier. “please,” you begged again, “i can’t take it.”

“oh, you can,” he scolded, lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “and you will.”

his thumb pressed against your clit, rubbing slow, torturous circles, while his fingers thrust inside you, curling just right to hit that spot that made you see stars. you bucked against his hand, your body pleading for release, but he kept you balanced on that knife’s edge, never letting you tip over. motherfucker.

“I need to come,” you admitted, your voice cracking with desperation. “please, baby. i need to come.”

rafe’s pretty blue eyes darkened with satisfaction at your words, but he still didn’t relent. 

instead, he slowed his movements even more, drawing out the pleasure until it was almost unbearable. you writhed against him, your body trembling, every nerve ending on fire.

“you want to come?” he asked, his voice a seductive purr, “that bad, huh?”

“t-this isn’t f-fair.”

“awww, sorry baby."

“fuck, fucking—"

“that’s my girl,” he murmured, his voice filled with approval. “just a lil more, yeah?”

he increased the pace of his fingers, his thumb rubbing faster against your clit, and you felt the pleasure building again, higher and higher, until you were sure you couldn’t take it anymore. but this time, he didn’t stop. this time, he pushed you right to the edge and then, finally, let you fall.

your orgasm crashed over like a train wreck, your body convulsing with the intensity of it. you screamed his name, your nails digging into his shoulders as you clung to him, riding out the waves of pleasure that seemed to go on forever. rafe held you through it, his fingers never stopping, drawing out every last bit of your release until you were a boneless, panting mess in his arms.

“good girl,” he murmured, his voice soft and filled with affection. 

he kissed you tenderly, his lips a gentle contrast to the intensity of what you’d just experienced. as you came down from your high, he held you close, his fingers still inside you, his thumb gently stroking your clit, sending aftershocks of pleasure through your body.

you couldn’t find the words to answer, your mind too foggy with pleasure. instead, you just held onto him, your arms wrapped around his neck, your face buried in the crook of his shoulder.

rafe’s fingers slowly withdrew from you, leaving you feeling empty and aching for more. he lifted you gently, carrying you to the bed and laying you down with his casual tenderness. he climbed in beside you, pulling you into his arms, his body warm and solid against yours.

“i love you,” his voice was a soft caress against your ear. “i meant it.”

you looked up at him, “i know,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss him, “i think i love you too.”

“i know.”