#;warm fresh queue
Text
Labyrinth
Uh oh, I’m falling in love / Oh no, I’m falling in love again
synopsis you’re reunited with your ex-boyfriend, Rafe, at an Outer Banks wedding.
tags Rafe Cameron x fem!reader, exes to lovers, second chance romance, slowburn-ish, A LOT of angst, an equal amount of pining, an awful breakup but a wonderful reconciliation 💓
wc ~11k
“You look,” you murmur, squeezing Brooklyn’s shoulder gently, “perfect.”
She’s sitting in front of a round, gold-rimmed mirror, the windows on either side of her painting her skin a warm aureate. You stand in shadow behind her, the sunbeams unable to reach your pretty features. There’s a wistfulness to them that’s almost imperceptible.
Almost. If she weren’t your best friend, someone you’ve known since forever, she probably wouldn’t have noticed the way you were hiding from them. The smile on her face falters as she looks up at you through the mirror.
“Look,” she begins tentatively, frowning, “if this is too hard —”
“Do not,” you interrupt. You try for an encouraging smile; what you hope is an encouraging smile. “I’m totally fine, okay? I’m over it.”
A pause. Brooklyn’s reflection sends you a long, hard look. “No one would blame you if you weren’t.”
You know what that means, the insinuation behind her words: you were supposed to be the first one. It’s all anyone in the Figure Eight was saying when they first found out about your break-up: you’re meant for each other, though, we can’t imagine you not being a couple!
Well, neither could you, not that it really mattered. Six months on with half a heart and pulseless motive, you’ve come to realise that wretched pining comes at a costly price.
You can’t afford it anymore.
“I know,” you reply quietly.
The spaghetti strap of your cowl neck falls as you straighten, the periwinkle fabric shimmering forebodingly. An image of the Rafe you knew flashes in your mind, slipping it down to press a kiss on your skin. Your stomach drops.
“But I am,” you add, louder. As though you’re trying to convince yourself more than you are her. “I promise.”
Brooklyn stares at you for a long time before her gaze falls, acquiescing with a sigh. “I hate that you still don’t believe it.”
“Believe what?”
“That he could live a thousand lifetimes and never deserve you.”
You bite back another wince, the fresh sting of forgotten feelings pricking at your eyelids. “I do believe it,” you say quietly. “I do. That’s what makes all of this so fucking hard — that I know we’re never getting a second chance. That he chose to throw all of it away and I’m never going to be able to forgive him for it.”
“You shouldn’t have to, though!”
“We were together for half our lives, Brooke!” You turn away from the mirror, taking in a jagged breath. “We — his mom had promised me her ring before she died, for God’s sake. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to walk away from what we had?”
A long pause. Brooke’s voice is gentle, but her words cut like a knife. “It’s not as though you had a choice, Y/N/N. He didn’t give you one.”
You look around at her, unshed tears making your pretty eyes shine. “What does it say about me that I’m no closer to accepting that than I was six months ago?”
“Babe.” A tear falls. Brooke’s features soften, and she pulls you into a tight hug, enough pressure to wring out the melancholy in your chest. “It says that you’re human.”
She rocks you for a moment before you’re forced to pull apart, a knock on the door breaking your reverie. “God,” you self-reproach, sending Brooklyn a watery smile. “I would find a way to make your day about me, wouldn’t I?”
“Maybe I should ditch Kelce,” Brooklyn replies faux-seriously, catching the stray tears wetting your lower lids. “We can elope or something.”
As though on queue, the Universe intervenes before she can go through with this idea. Perhaps it knows, having watched the pair of grow close throughout college, that there’s a part of her that really would call this all off if you asked her to.
“Sweetheart!” Comes Brooklyn’s father’s voice from behind the door, punctuated by the sharp rap of his knuckles. “It’s nearly time!”
The tension ebbs. Suddenly, everything about this wedding—the same one you’ve been helping her plan forever—becomes entirely too real. Your melancholia is a tide in this way, flowing forth and receding as its surroundings permit. Never fading away; ever-present. Though it may not be as unbearable now as it was when you first broke up, it lingers.
You’re afraid that it always will. You push down this fear like you’ve done every other.
Focus. Your eyes widen in anticipation, mirroring Brooklyn’s as they transform into nervous excitement.
“Come in!” Brooklyn calls anxiously, biting back a squeal. You’re grateful for the fact that you haven’t ruined her mood completely. “Oh my god. Oh my god!”
She stands up and turns around just as her father enters the room, his lined face shining with a wistful sense of happiness. As the atmosphere in the room shifts, she glances back at you, and your insides twist in cruel mocking. More repentant than jealous. I was supposed to be the first one.
You don’t let your expression falter. The first few chords of the processional float into the room through the ajar door, and you spring into action, smoothing out your dress and readjusting your bouquet of flowers.
“That’s my queue,” you say, squeezing her arm once more before slipping past her and her father.
In true Kook fashion, Brooklyn’s wedding ceremony is taking place on the Island Club green. Upon exiting the storage room you’ve transformed into a vanity, you find yourself in the entranceway that leads to the venue, the set-up just visible beyond its oak doors.
Benches of beige driftwood sit on either side of the aisle, twined with buttery white lilies and ivy-like viridescence. They face a brilliant floral wedding arch, where the officiant and Kelce stand talking in hushed whispers. And the sky above you is a vibrant, cloudless blue, golden sunlight fanning down upon the crowd, bathing them aureate.
In the beat that passes, you search for someone you shouldn’t.
The last time that you saw him, he was hunched over his father’s office desk. His eyes were bloodshot and his tired gaze dull; half-finished documents stared up at him in mocking, and a nagging ache was making home in his chest.
The week prior, you hadn’t seen much of each other. And it wasn’t as though he’d requested this space—he rarely did, rarely asked you for anything—you’d just taken it upon yourself to give it to him. Stay in control. If you proposed time apart before he did, maybe it would feel more deliberate; hurt less.
You were dead wrong.
“Look,” he sighs, this cruel, heavy sound that splices right through your chest, “I realise I’ve been neglecting our relationship a lot recently.”
“Yes,” you respond tentatively. “But you’ve been under a lot of pressure recently. I get it.”
“You shouldn’t have to.” He glances up at you through red-rimmed irises. “I… I don’t know how long it’ll be like this. With everything that’s happened… my dad dying, and me taking over the firm —”
“I’ve seen you through all of it,” you interrupt quietly, your voice cracking. “I’ve — no questions asked, I’ve done it. I get it, Rafe, you’ve got different priorities at the moment. But we’ve loved each other for so long now that I —”
“But that’s the thing,” he says then, swallowing hard, “I just don’t know if I do anymore. Not as much as I used to.”
The silence that follows feels as though it’s suffocating you. You haven’t said a word, and Rafe’s said plenty, but it’s you with the lungs that heave for loveless oxygen.
“Oh.”
Rafe’s Adam’s apple jumps again, and he breaks eye contact as unshed tears brim to the surface. “I’m sorry.”
It doesn’t make any sense.
“Maybe,” you try, grappling hard for a logical explanation, “maybe your grief’s fucking with your ability to feel anything.”
Rafe’s gaze lifts to your face again, teardrop tracks making your pretty cheeks shine. His heart aches, hard, and he finds it difficult to catch his breath. “But… I’ve dealt with it,” he says quietly. “I’ve had to.”
“How can you have?” You throw back, exasperated. “Rafe you — you haven’t had a moment to yourself since his funeral last month, you’ve holed yourself up in his office and acted like everything’s fucking okay!”
“Because it is!” He replies, his face hardening momentarily. “I’m — I’m fucking fine, alright? I just need to be alone right now.”
“Because you don’t love me anymore.”
Rafe winces. Your lower lip trembles. “Yeah. Because something’s missing… the — the fucking spark, or whatever… and right now, I can’t give you the sort of love you deserve.”
He was tired of hurting you through his abjection, he’d said. As if breaking things off wasn’t the most hurtful thing he ever did.
Thankfully, you aren’t able to spot him in the crowd; if you had, walking down the aisle would have been infinitely more difficult. Out of courtesy to you—and Brooke forcing his hand, of course—he hadn’t asked Rafe to be a groomsman either, so you were well safe from an untimely encounter at pre-wedding festivities. And from standing opposite him in front of the altar. You aren’t sure such close proximity in holy matrimony would be healthy for either of you.
It’s unfair on him though, you know it is. He has as much a right being best man as you do maid of honour — the four of you were thick as thieves once upon a time; in fact, it was you that’d introduced Kelce to Brooklyn.
It feels like so long ago when you think back on it now, being nineteen-years-old with a naïve heart and nothing to lose.
You and Rafe had seemed invincible then, high-school sweethearts that were somehow surviving college-borne distance. Forever, that’s the word that ended every drunk call or late night text; forever, and the promise of a proposal and beach-side villa.
“Shi—did you not see the sock on the door, Smith?” Rafe groans, his forehead dropping to your shoulder in defeat. He’s spent the past half hour getting you into a compromising position, his rough hands awry and his wet mouth on your soft skin. The amaranthine imprint of his kisses have made home on your neck. You’re straddling him with your arms wrapped around his shoulders, and he really doesn’t want to sacrifice any amount of closeness.
Kelce enters the room tentatively, his hand firmly pressed over his eyes. “Hard to miss. You two decent or what?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
You let out a peal of laughter as Rafe glowers at his roommate, his calloused palms dropping from your hips to your thighs. You push the fabric of your dress over his hands, but he kneads the flesh anyway, the skin on skin like spare oxygen.
Kelce peeks at you from between his fingers before pulling them away, an unimpressed look on his face. “C’mon, surely you’re done with her Cameron. I’ve given you guys the entire fucking day together.”
“Half an hour,” Rafe replies, his blue eyes narrowing.
“As if you need more than five minutes,” Kelce snorts, plopping down on the bed opposite Rafe’s.
“Oh fuck—” Rafe’s large hands circle your thighs and tighten, standing up and advancing toward Kelce with you in his arms, “—right off—”
“Rafe!” You gasp, suppressing another surprised laugh. “Put me down, you asshole.”
“No way, Y/N/N,” Kelce says then, raising his arms in preemptive surrender. “Your PDA’s the only reason he hasn’t given me a shiner yet.”
Rafe affirms this sentiment by pressing a chaste kiss to your temple, his eyes still narrowed as he glares at Kelce. “You’re lucky I love my girlfriend more than I do my fucking reputation.”
Kelce makes a face, keeling over and mock-gagging. “Yeah, yeah, you guys have been bethrothed since fucking pre-K, I get it. Now will you stop being so possessive and let me have a conversation with her?”
You look over your shoulder at him, untangling your arms from Rafe’s neck so he can let you down gently. When he does so, it’s with great reluctance, and he doesn’t hesitate to circle your chest so he can pull you back against him. His strong bicep is warm against your neck, solid pressure.
“What’s up, Kelcey?” You ask, surveying him with interest.
“Ghosted,” he says gloomily, falling back against his duvet, “again.”
Rafe glances down at you at the same time you look up at him, a sage, sympathetic emotion passing between you. In the weeks after your break-up, you’ll come to yearn for this emotion more than anything else — that feeling of being immune to inadequacy, of having found the love of your life so effortlessly.
“You’ve gotta stop coming on so hard, bro,” Rafe says, resting his chin on your forehead. “These sorority chicks are probably all looking for something casual.”
“He can’t help the fact that he’s a lover boy, Rafe,” you defend, frowning. “You’ve just gotta find a girl that wants what you want, Kelce.”
Kelce raises his head hopefully. “Know anyone like that, Y/N/N?”
“Well,” you pause, chewing your bottom lip thoughtfully, “I am thinking of inviting my roommate Brooklyn to the Bahamas over summer break —”
“To Rafe’s?” This piques Kelce’s interest. He props himself up onto his elbows, a hopeful grin transforming his features. “Sold.”
How times change.
Today, Kelce stands at the other end of the aisle, waiting for the same Brooklyn that was once your roommate, now his almost wife. He’s wearing an elegant black tuxedo with a lily tucked into the breast pocket, its buttery white petals shining in the sun. He looks so, unimaginably, happy. It should’ve been you and Rafe. Your heartstrings twinge.
“You’re not ready,” you murmur as you pass him on the altar, finding your place opposite his best man, Topper.
Kelce smiles at you, a little nervous, a little unshed. “Will I ever be?”
You shake your head, smiling in tandem.
The wedding procession is a brilliant display of love, and you find a way to make it about your lack thereof. Seconds blur, minutes melt into each other, and your poor mind strays to when things were far simpler. The Island Club was your date night spot, once upon a time. It’s where you’d envisioned you’d get proposed to; where you would get married one day, too. Just like this.
You’re happy for them, you swear it. It’s just a difficult emotion to maintain when the opposite comes so naturally.
Rafe doesn’t arrive until the reception itself.
He wants to believe that this is entirely accidental — he’s had a long day at the office, filled with several meetings with prospective clients. He can’t though, his wretched conscience won’t let him. He chose to go to work today, chose to schedule important meetings at the same time as Kelce’s nuptials.
He thinks he knows why this is, and isn’t sure whether he can handle the why in a satin slip and strappy heels. He wants to believe that he meant everything he said to you six months prior, but the dreadful ache in his chest crescendos in mocking every time he tries this.
He’s made a mistake. He won’t admit this if it killed him. But he knows, deep down, that something isn’t right about all of this.
If he really didn’t love you anymore, if that fucking spark was missing, there shouldn’t have been anything to move on from—the ship should have already departed. But he’s struggling, hard, and his thoughts juxtapose his actions. Despite telling you that he needs to be alone for the time being, you remain unmoored in his mind, rocking back and forth but never sinking.
He’s done his fair share of fucking up over the past few months. Got into something else too quickly, tried that no contact thing and failed miserably. There’s no going back after everything that’s happened. And yet…
“Hello?” He greets you like it’s a question; like greeting you isn’t second nature anymore. Your stomach turns.
When you respond, your voice comes out jagged, pained. “Look. I get that you’re doing this ‘no contact’ thing, or whatever, but Sarah told me something pretty fucked up and I think you owe me an explanation.” Your voice is far weaker.
Rafe winces, a familiar ache pulling through his chest. “If this is about Elle —”
“It’s been a month, Rafe. You may as well have cheated.”
…that fucking hug.
After you’d confronted him about shamelessly flirting with Sarah’s friend, Elle—in front of Sarah, no less, who told you the second it happened—he’d asked to meet up in person and explain himself.
You weren’t quite sure what to make of it all, which is probably why you’d foolishly agreed to hear him out. Ward had hired Elle as an intern before his death; she’d been around a while, long enough for an affair.
It shifted bile into your throat.
And when you’d met him, the exact opposite of what you’d hoped had happened. He’d had the gall to tell you that he thinks something’s there, that he feels that bullshit spark that he swore was missing in your relationship.
What were you meant to say?
But then he’d apologised, recognised it was too soon, begged to stay friends. Friends—like a platonic relationship is in any way gift receipt redeemable. And ironically, hearing him out wasn’t even your biggest mistake, it was that wretched hug goodbye that you’d permitted you get.
It was as though that hug held everything unsaid. Your figure had moulded against his quite perfectly, and why wouldn’t it? He’s the only romantic embrace you’d known since you were a teenager.
And when you’d finally pulled away, separated the pieces of your heart that were finally greeting his again, you hadn’t realised that he’d think about that hug for weeks gone by, just like you.
All the way up until Christmas, which occurred two months after your sudden break-up.
It was the last time you saw him under the pretence of amicability, when you came by Tannyhill to drop off presents and see his family. Mostly him. It felt pathetic, even then; for all you knew, Elle was on his mind and you were somewhere insignificant.
Rafe’s pretty sure he’s fucking doomed.
Your laugh reverberates through Tannyhill like a siren song, and he’s pretty sure he’ll never not recognise the sound of it. It’s as though every bone in his body vibrates in tune to it—so unabashed, so freeing. Far more painful now than it used to be.
You’ve become so many Taylor Swift songs and none of them end happy.
He follows your sweet timbre to the hallway before he can help himself. Once upon a time—God, it feels so long ago now—he’d have been the first person you’d have texted before dropping by the house. Instead, as he stands paralysed at the foot of the stairs, it’s Sarah who’s hugging you, who gets to hold you in her arms.
Luckily for him, your eyes are closed in the embrace, and he’s afforded a second to recalibrate after taking you in. He’s known that you’re beautiful like his first memory on Earth, but that doesn’t mean your proximity leaves him any less winded. You’re fresh-faced with limbs that have an untouchable quality to them; you aren’t his to mark anymore, no longer his to ruin.
He can’t remember the last time he kissed you. He wants to remember so fucking bad. You’re slipping through his calloused fingers and fragments of you are all he has.
“You didn’t have to get us anything!” Sarah exclaims, pulling away faux-disprovingly.
“Hey, don’t do that, of course I did.” Your arms fall back to your side, and you open your eyes in tandem. When they flit past Sarah’s face and find Rafe’s instead, it feels as though someone has tipped ice-cold water down your singlet. A pause. “You’re family.”
Sarah notes the change in your tone with a frown, turning to look over her shoulder. “Oh,” she says, her expression hardening. “Sorry, Y/N/N. I didn’t know he was home.”
You swallow. “It’s no big,” you reply, forcing yourself to look back at her. “We’re alright, really. But I should go, I have a few more presents to drop off.”
Sarah frowns harder. “You sure you don’t want to stay a bit? I know Rose’d love to see you, we’ve all really missed having you around —”
“I’m sure,” you interrupt, handing her the bag of presents you’ve wrapped. “I’ll send her a text, okay? And listen,” you pause, your expression softening a little, “I know this holiday season’s going to be hard without your dad, and I want you to know that I’m here for you, whenever you need me.”
Sarah’s eyes well with tears. “It’s going to be hard without you too, Y/N,” she murmurs. “You’re my sister.”
Your features sadden in tandem, and you give her shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “And I always will be. You know that.”
“You should come to Christmas, then,” she says hopefully.
“I —” you falter as your voice cracks, grimacing slightly, “— I’m sorry. I don’t think I can.”
When you turn around, something in Rafe’s chest cracks too. He’s still hanging on to that expression-softening catalyst from a moment prior, yearning hard for the feeling of being on the receiving end of your love.
“Why the fuck,” Sarah fumes, rounding on him once you’re out of earshot, “do you have to ruin everything you touch?”
Rafe doesn’t even have it in him to wince. “I don’t know,” he responds quietly, with an honesty that aches. “If I did, maybe I’d have found a way to fix it.”
Sarah takes pause. Slight disbelief transforms her features. “You have to still love her. How can’t you?”
“I don’t know, alright?” Rafe runs his hand through his hair slovenly. “I just — I’m not happy anymore. It’s not fucking there… I don’t know if it’ll ever come back.”
“What isn’t?”
“The… the spark.”
“Bullshit,” Sarah spits out, accusatory. “The ‘spark’ is fucking bullshit, Rafe. You’re telling me you’ve felt it the entire time you’ve known her? You’re telling me this doesn’t have anything to do with dad’s death?”
Rafe swallows thickly, discomfort coating his throat. “I don’t, alright? All I know is I can’t give her what she needs right now; I don’t know if I ever will.”
To this day, he doesn’t know about your detour that evening — how instead of driving home, you took a left to the look-out where you shared your first kiss. He doesn’t know that the waves crashing ashore bore witness to your heartbreak; that sunset orange painted your tear-streaked cheeks a gentler amber. Caressed them, subdued them, where he no longer could. He doesn’t know you agonised over how much his hair had grown in your absence, the subtle stubble on his jaw, the stark outline of his biceps.
The him that’s foreign to you, now; the him that’s Elle’s and not yours.
At twenty-four years old, Rafe Cameron doesn’t know fucking anything.
Of course, once he does eventually recognise that his ‘something there’ with Elle is a rebound, it’s too late to entertain returning to you with his tail between his legs.
He can’t. Not after everything he’s put you through in the past. So he allows regret to caulk his limbs and bitterness to coat his insides, and Rafe Cameron does what he does best — pushes it down and ignores it.
Which brings him here, a non-attendee to his best friend’s wedding and an hour late to his reception.
He sidles into the venue through a pair of double doors, and the first thing he notices is the dimmed sconces and muted fairy lights. It’s the first thing, because perplexingly, the crowd is hard to discern but you glow anyway. A spotlight illuminates the centre of the room where Brooklyn and Kelce share their first dance, but they don’t draw his gaze, your beautiful features do.
Of course you do, in your strappy cowl neck slip. There’s less periwinkle fabric than he’d anticipated, more exposed limbs, and Rafe feels like he’s run a fucking marathon as he takes you in. And your pretty eyes and glossy lips cascade into a bare neck; soft skin that’s forgotten his rough touch, his bruising kisses.
It’s momentary lust that his regret promptly squashes. He can’t think those thoughts about you anymore, even if they’re almost second nature. Even if he’s spent more tangible years of his life as your boyfriend than he has a fucking stranger.
That’s what you guys are meant to be right now: strangers. His stomach coils. His tired eyes search for the open bar on instinct.
Once he’s acquired a whiskey neat and a glass of champagne, he pulls through the crowd and makes toward your figure.
You aren’t as lucky as he is to mentally prepare for a reunion. When he holds out the shimmering flute and prompts your gaze toward him, there’s a split-second of slack-jawed diffidence before you find your common sense.
God, you wish he wasn’t so easy to stare at.
He’s wearing an expression that isn’t yours anymore, with his thick brows furrowed and lips slightly parted. Yearning, but he can’t be. His blue eyes make your heart leap. Your gaze lifts before it falls, taking in his damp hair, his larger than ever frame. Both feel unfamiliar; he’s shed the skin and aureate curls your fingers once traced. Same notes of patchouli on his neck, though you note the absence of the silver chain you once bought him for Christmas.
Does he still have it, somewhere, hidden in a shoebox under his bed? (His hand is so close to your chest, it feels like you’re dying.) Is it as painful for him to see you like this after months and months of no contact?
Can’t be. Shouldn’t be. The ache may linger, agonisingly, but you’re stronger now than you were when he first ended things.
“Oh,” is all you can muster, accepting the flute of champagne. When your fingers brush, you reprimand the jolt of static. Lust may be hard to shake, but you resolve to let logic prevail. “Thanks.”
Rafe feels it too, harder, more unbearable. “Don’t mention it.”
You break eye contact to look out into the crowd, though it’s a struggle finding anything to focus on. “When’d you arrive?”
“Five minutes ago,” he admits, staring at your side profile for a second longer than he probably should. He analyses the glittery stuff on your cheekbones—highlighter?—for traces of a familiar feeling. “Work shit.”
“Ah,” you reply, raising your eyebrows at him. “Some things never change, huh?”
Rafe winces. “Look, Y/N, I —”
“I’m kidding, Rafe, relax,” you interrupt, sending him a small smile. It makes his stomach turn. “It’s all going well, I hope?”
“It is, yeah,” he responds, smiling in tandem. “Ish. Still doing a fuck tonne of late nights and weekends.”
“Bummer.” It feels strange, making small talk in this way. Strange, though not particularly as awful as you’d predicted. “How’re Rose and your sisters?”
“Yeah, they’re good,” they miss you, “Sarah’s going to UCLA in the fall.”
You nod. “She told me.”
Something in Rafe’s chest drops. He turns to you, his piercing gaze making your skin burn. “I didn’t realise you guys kept in touch.”
“We’ve always been really close. You know that.”
Because of me. “Right.” His eyes fall to your throat as you take another pull of champagne, smooth and unblemished and painfully foreign. “I’m glad.”
You turn to him then, an unreadable expression on your face. “Me too.”
A beat. The pair of you stare at each as the surroundings buzz into static.
“Listen, Rafe, I —”
“Y/N, I’ve been —”
You falter first, scrunching up your face abashedly. “Sorry. You go.”
“I…” Rafe pauses, running his calloused palm through his hair, “I guess I just want to apologise. For everything.”
Your eyes widen, and you turn away from him abruptly. “Rafe, I don’t know if now is the best time to have this conversation.”
“Shit, I know. I know I’m about five months too late and don’t deserve to be heard out.”
“Well,” you pause, chewing on your bottom lip apprehensively. Your voice quietens. “Maybe not at a wedding.”
Or ever. You tip back the rest of your champagne just as the slow dance fades out, breaking away from him. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”
Rafe fucking hopes so. He needs a clean slate if it’ll kill him. He nods reluctantly, watching you disappear into the crowd in front of him. The ache in his chest crescendos as the physical distance swallows you completely.
—
“We love you,” Brooklyn mouthes, blowing you a kiss through the open window. The limousine she’s in stretches forward with jet-black grandiosity, its ignition blaring alive as you catch it in mid-air.
When you blow one back, Kelce peeks over her shoulder and sends you a wink. The pair of them wave to the wedding-goers surrounding you before the vehicle pulls forward, leaving you in its dust. You watch them exit the Island Club gates, and a sense of bittersweet melancholia finds home in your chest.
That should’ve been you. You turn around as the crowd begins to disperse and find yourself face to face with Rafe once again.
“Oh,” you say, looking up at him in surprise. When your expression relaxes—in recognition—his chest pulls in tandem. “They’re sweet, huh?”
Us; that should’ve been us. Rafe nods, smiling wistfully. “Can you believe you’re the one that set them up?”
“At your holiday house,” you return, smiling in tandem. “This was a two-person wing man job.”
“Nah. You were the one that saw their potential.” A pause. “You’ve always been really good at that.”
Your brow furrows. “At setting people up?”
“At seeing their potential,” Rafe corrects. An unreadable emotion crosses his blue irises. “Even when they don’t deserve it.”
Your expression falters. You aren’t sure what to say to this, so you don’t say anything at all.
“Listen,” Rafe tries again, scratching the back of his neck, “d’you need a ride?”
“Well…”
You hesitate, looking over his shoulder for your parents. When you spot them, they’re in avid conversation with some family friends; they look extremely comfortable, like they’re going to be dawdling until God knows when.
You’re searching for justification even though he doesn’t deserve it. After all the pain he’s caused you, your wretched heart still yearns for more.
Fucking sadist.
“Actually, yeah,” you finish after a beat, bringing your gaze back to him. “That’d be great, thank you.”
His shoulders relax. “Yeah, of course. You have all your things?”
“Uh huh.”
“This way.”
You allow him to guide you to his pick-up trunk, pretend that you didn’t discern it right away. Besides, you were meant to have forgotten the location of his unofficial ‘official’ parking spot. So you follow him toward it, deny the familiarity of its number plate, and act like every dent and wretched scratch isn’t a piece of your heart.
“Shit—ow!” You curse, hurtling forward as you stall, again. “This is fucking impossible, Rafe. I quit.”
Rafe grins perplexedly, giving your shoulder a squeeze. “Baby,” he placates, “if Top can learn to drive manual, anyone can.”
You make a frustrated noise, crossing your arms over your chest. “Not me, clearly.”
Rafe lets out a laugh, unbuckling your seatbelt so he can pull you into his lap. “C’mere.”
When he does so—with entirely too much ease—he pinches your chin between his forefinger and thumb so he can guide your lips against his. It’s an unhurried kiss, a sure press of emotion, as though he’s rousing the embers that live within your ribcage.
He has this funny way of leaving you out of breath no matter how chaste the embrace. You break away reluctantly, raising your eyebrows at him. “So is this the reward system you used when you were teaching him to drive, hot-shot?”
Rafe makes a face, dipping his head to sponge a kiss to your neck. “Why? You jealous?”
“Never,” you sigh, running your fingers through his hair. “You wouldn’t dream of leaving me for someone else, Rafe Cameron. The Figure Eight wouldn’t forgive you if you did.”
“I wouldn’t forgive myself if I did.” Another teeth-scraping kiss. “I’d be crazy to let you go. I’ve been in love with you since we were freshman.”
He doesn’t open the passenger’s side door for you after unlocking his pick-up truck. That isn’t his place anymore.
He wants to, anyway. You want him to, badly. This revelation passes unsaid between the two of you as you climb into the seat yourself, unscathed by chivalry.
Once you’re buckled in, your gaze lifts to the new air freshener dangling from the rearview mirror. “Huh,” you say, flicking it absently, “you replaced it.”
He wants to say, you left me no choice. He wants to say, old spice smells like you. “Oh yeah,” he replies instead, clearing his throat. “Rose got me it.”
“It’s nice.”
“Thanks.”
He shifts into reverse and backs out of the park, and there’s a split second where he almost places his hand on your headrest. He can’t do that anymore. Too close; not close enough. You notice it too. An ache passes from his heart to yours.
“Are you going to take any time off over summer break?” You ask, keeping your gaze on the road ahead.
Rafe pulls out onto the main road before turning to you and responding, “I wasn’t planning on it, but I think I might need some.”
“I think you might need some too,” you agree, sending him a fleeting smile. “Bahamas?”
You don’t expect the tears in his eyes that follow. You straighten abruptly, your eyebrows pulling together. “Sorry, I didn’t mean —”
“No—shit, I just—” he falters as his voice cracks, clearing his throat again, “I don’t think I could go back there any time soon. Too many memories.”
Your expression softens. “Your dad, of course. I get it. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You have nothing to be sorry about.” He takes in a jagged breath. “Shit, I’m the one that should be apologising. For everything.”
“Rafe —”
“No, listen…”
He pauses as he turns left onto your street, pulling onto the side of the road as soon as he can. He’s still a good mile away from your house, but it feels an injustice to keep you waiting for an explanation. When he turns and angles his body toward you, there’s a brokenness on his face that makes your miserable heart falter.
“I’m… I’m so sorry for everything I put you through after I broke up with you. Even if that was what I needed at the time, even if it was the right decision, I shouldn’t have been so fucking heartless and I regret not reaching out to you more often.”
You swallow thickly. He takes your silence as encouragement to keep going.
“You deserved better than the way I treated you… you’ve always deserved better than me. I didn’t know how to deal with all of my grief and I pushed you away in the process. It was… fuck, it was so selfish of me, and I’m sorry. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t hate myself for it.”
He’s taken all of the oxygen in the car, and you find yourself struggling for air. You turn to him, every drunken rationalisation manifest. “Thank you,” you whisper, “for saying that.”
“And listen, the Elle thing —”
Too much. “Rafe,” you interrupt, swallowing again. “Stop. It’s fine. I accept your apology.”
Rafe frowns, the furrow in his brow painfully evident. “Yeah? Because… because I’d understand if you didn’t.”
“Yeah,” you affirm, turning away from him. “Besides, it’s ancient history. I forgave you a long time ago in my head.”
“You did?” Rafe’s asks, searching your features in earnest. “Why?”
The champagne you’ve consumed swirls uncomfortably in your stomach. “I had to,” you say quietly. “It was the only way I was going to be able to move on from the situation.”
Rafe’s stomach drops. “Which you have.”
“Which I have.”
The smokescreen between you smothers any semblance of hope you might’ve shared. He nods, turning on the ignition once again. “I hope that means you’re happy, Y/N.”
“It does,” you reply, “I am.”
“Good.” It doesn’t feel good at all. “Maybe this means we can be friends.”
You turn to him again, raising your eyebrows. “Friends?”
“Like we were before,” he affirms, putting the car into drive. His fingers brush the bare skin of your thigh near the gearshift. A very unfriend-like jolt of static shoots into your chest. “I… I don’t know. Sometimes I think I just miss my best friend.”
Your heart sighs. “Me too.”
“Friends then.”
“Yeah,” you reply, sending him a small smile. “Friends.”
—
You haven’t been to Shake Shack since you broke up with Rafe. You didn’t even realise you’d evaded it so long; perhaps it was a subconscious thing, too many painful memories to bear.
You remember when it first opened up in the Banks, this egalitarian refuge nestled between the Cut and Figure Eight.
Rafe Cameron remembers too, remembers bringing you here on your very first date. Roguish at fourteen with endless charm and a handsome face, he had far less creases etched onto his forehead then; far less familial expectations to deal with.
If only you knew he’s evaded it too. When he pulls into the carpark, the aforementioned date comes forth in fragments.
When memories lie dormant so long in one’s head, they tend to lose the stitches that hold them together. Nervousness, excitement, cherry coke and a lilac singlet. The strange feeling of forever before either of you could place it. He doesn’t remember any of your conversation, nor how long the date lasted, but he remembers the cloudless sky, the flutter of new love in his stomach.
The pair of you share a look before exiting his pick-up truck. A look that says: uh oh, and insinuates far more than that.
“So how’s work going, anyway?” Rafe asks, shoving his hands into his front pockets. He’s a beat behind you head toward the entrance, and you can feel your neck burn where his eyes remained trained on you.
“Yeah, alright, same old,” you say, sending him a fleeting smile over your shoulder. His blue irises are dappled golden in sunlight, and their brilliance unsteadies you, the eye-contact like a firestarter. You clear your throat. “Sam quit.”
Rafe’s eyes widen. “You’re kidding.”
“Not kidding,” you shake your head, “he ended things with Peyton and booked a Contiki in South East Asia.”
“Shiiiiiit,” Rafe wolf whistles, shaking his head in tandem. “Is he going through some kind of quarter life crisis?”
You shrug. “Who would let someone like Peyton go, huh?”
Rafe resists the urge to wince. He can think of one person in particular who threw away something far more special. He clears his throat significantly, regret like molasses coating the sides of his windpipe. “Yeah. How’s she doing with it all?”
“Oh you know Peyton, she’s the queen of acting unbothered,” you reply, sounding reproachful. “Even when she’s heartbroken, she refuses to tell me about it.”
Rafe frowns. “Fuck that.”
“Yeah?” You send him a wayward glance, raising your eyebrows knowingly. “Cause to me, it sounds like someone else I used to know.”
There’s a pause as he meets your gaze, a frightening wistfulness passing between you. It lingers.
“Right.” You’re at the entrance to Shake Shack now, and Rafe grapples for purchase on the one thing he can control—friends. He pulls open the door and beckons you forward, “So. Is today the day you branch out and order something new, Y/N?”
When you pass by him, a tendril-like brush of shoulder on chest, the buttery scent of your vanilla perfume lingers. A lot about you does, a lot more than he’d care to admit.
Rafe’s wretched heart cycles between the old and new you like it’s trying to make them both fit within its chambers.
“Don’t think I have a choice,” you reply, sending him a smile over your shoulder. “They’ve completely revamped their menu since the last time we were here.”
Rafe raises his eyebrows at you. “They have?” You checked?
“Uh huh,” you reply, nodding. “I was going to make a reservation here for our anniversary way back when.” You clear your throat. “When I went on their website to do so, I realised that their menu was totally different.”
You leave out the part where you’d stopped by soon after, asked—no, begged—the manager to serve you the originals when you came. You know, when old time’s sake was a sacred concept. When that sweet, lovesick version of you still existed.
“Oh shit,” Rafe says. Though it’s subtle, he catches the smidge of diffidence in your voice, like the ghost of relationship’s past rearing its ugly head. You checked, for him, and you’re so nonchalant about it. Like it may have mattered then, but right now it matters far less.
He feels an awful twinge in his chest. He adds, “That sucks.” He isn’t sure whether he’s referring to the change in menu or the change in your heart’s purpose.
“I know.”
“I was looking forward to ordering the usual.”
“Me too.” You shrug. “We’re just going to have to find a new usual, I guess.”
What you mean is, make new memories that’ll replace the old ones. What you mean is, erase the nostalgia being here brings.
Also, though you’d never willingly admit it, start anew.
Rafe nods, stepping forward and glancing up at the menu. Though it’s different to the one he remembers from his youth, the interior of the diner is comfortingly familiar — same ugly yellow track lights, same checkered linoleum underfoot. Same fingerprint-smudged counter and broken drinks machine, same uniform on the workers, same greasy smell permeating.
And the same booth you were partial to nestled in one corner, it’s retro cushion covers faded as ever.
The menu, and the girl beside him. The only two things that feel different.
“Hm.” You frown, deliberating over the menu. “I’m thinking the ‘classic’. You want to split some curly fries?”
Rafe raises his eyebrows, his blue eyes full of mirth. “So the one that’s exactly your old order, minus the pickles. Got it.”
“Yes,” you decide. “Except I’ll ask them to add pickles.”
“Of course you will.” Rafe grins. “I’ll get the same.”
You gasp, faux-scandalised. “Rafe Cameron eating pickles? Now I’ve seen everything.”
Rafe raises his eyebrows. “How d’you know I’m not just ordering it to pawn ‘em off to you?”
You balk. “I don’t, I guess.”
“And yes, to the curly fries,” he adds, quick to change the subject. The bashfulness on your features dissipates, but the tension in the room weighs ever-present.
You nod, sliding your wallet out of your back-pocket. “Should we just split the bill, then?”
“No way,” Rafe says, clasping your wrist to hold it in place. Your pulse feels funny. “I got it.”
“Rafe.” You frown, shaking your head. “Look, it really isn’t a big deal —”
It is to me. “Exactly,” he interrupts. “Which is why I got it.”
Maybe you should argue some more, insist on paying until he gives in. But you don’t. Between the pulse-jolting closeness and mocking sense of nostalgia, you aren’t sure you have it in you to retaliate.
Though in an act of rebellion, you avoid your usual booth. Once you’re seated at a new table and separated by your burgers, you re-enter this stupid friendship thing you’ve adopted. The one that boasts no-strings like the red one isn’t obvious.
“So,” you say, popping a curly fry in your mouth. “You remember Maya, right?”
Rafe makes a face. “That psycho roommate you had in senior year? Yeah, pretty hard to forget.”
“Well, she hit me up a month ago to let me know she’d be in the Banks to see her boyfriend.” At his audible gasp, you nod significantly. “I know. Asked if I wanted to catch up while she was here.”
Rafe wolf whistles in amusement. “No fucking way. After the Hell she put you through?”
“I fucking know,” you reply, grimacing in disdain.
Rafe raises his eyebrows, swallowing down a handful of curly fries. “Tell me you said no.”
You raise yours in tandem. “What do you think, casanova?”
“Y/N!” He groans, shaking his head. “Why do you put yourself through this shit?”
You frown, reaching for your soda and sipping stubbornly. Condensation rolls down your palm, the soft skin shining. “C’mon! It was useful, I swear. I got the intel on Maya and her mystery OBX man.”
Rafe leans forward in interest, taking a pull of his soda too. “Go on then.”
“God, I’ve been sitting on this information for ages,” you say, your pretty eyes full of excitement. Rafe’s heart leaps. “I wanted to tell you as soon as I found out, but we weren’t talking and you were avoiding me and I didn’t know whether I should break no contact.”
It deflates just as quickly, sinking into his stomach like deadweight. “I wasn’t… I don’t know, I thought it’d be best if I kept my distance.” He sighs, sitting back and raking his fingers through his hair. “Clearly that was a mistake. I haven’t been this relaxed in fucking ages.”
You smile small. “Yeah. This is nice.”
“Nice.”
“Anyway,” you clear your throat, this sticky, molasses-like something rising from your chest, “it’s Dylan. Like Dylan fucking Young that had a crush on me in freshman year.”
“Fuck off, seriously?” Rafe replies, mirth evident on his features. “Not kidding, think it’d be grounds for a restraining order if she ever found that out.”
“That’s what I’m saying!” You exclaim, raising your eyebrows significantly. “You promise to take this to your grave, Cameron?”
Rafe nods, faux-somber, extending his pinky toward you. “He won’t hear it from me, Y/L/N.”
When your fingers entwine, you wonder whether he feels it too. It’s a jolt of static that leaves your skin warm and your insides funny, and you wonder whether the effect it has on you is endearing or pathetic.
The latter, you conclude. The red string of fate disagrees.
“Good,” you say, retrieving your hand. “Oh, and,” you take a generous bite of your burger, “did you hear that Taylor’s moving to Texas?”
“I did, actually,” Rafe replies. “From Top, funnily enough.”
You frown. “He’s still pining, huh?”
“Unfortunately.” He pulls apart his burger to pick out the green pickles, placing them onto your plate before re-assembling. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world. In the offensive, fluorescent lighting, they shine up at you in mocking. “Anyway, I should probably learn to get used to it. I’m moving into Kelce’s room now that he’s happily wed.”
Your jaw slackens in surprise. “You’re moving in with Topper?”
Rafe grins. “I know. Who would’ve thought, huh?”
“But,” you pause, popping another curly fry into your mouth, “why?”
“Needed to get out of Tannyhill, I guess.” He falters, swallowing down the bile-like rise of emotion from his chest. “Too many memories.”
Your expression softens. “That makes sense.”
“Besides, Sarah’s starting college soon, and Wheeze’s off at boarding school for the majority of the year anyway.” He shrugs. “And Rose… well, she’s at the Bahamas house more than she is in the OBX.”
“Too many memories,” you repeat, frowning sadly.
“Yeah. I guess.”
There’s silence then, the comfortable kind. An emotion passes between you that feels both familiar and new at the same time.
It matters less when you finally finish, what you speak about, whether you’ll meet again. All you know is, something feels different now, as though there’s embers that this reunion has reignited in your ribcage. Dormant though they had once been, you’d always hoped that the renewed hope would set them aflame.
The next day, you wake up to a text from Rafe.
thank you for yesterday. It was really nice.
You don’t have it in you to reply; Rafe doesn’t mind. He knows you feel the same way.
—
It’s a few weeks before you see him again, at a farewell party for Brooklyn and Kelce.
Prior to embarking on their honeymoon, they were shifting their lives to Chicago; laying down the foundations of stability so they could return to a clean slate.
It upsets you to no end. You’d always assumed that her marriage to Kelce would guarantee that she settles down in the Banks.
Rafe Cameron must remember this, the way he does everything else. He hands you a beer and clinks his own against it, beads of condensation sliding over his calloused hand.
“Huh,” he murmurs, shaking his head in faux-disappoint, “so much for staying here and ruling the Eight with an iron fist.”
“That’s what I’m saying!” You exclaim, taking a generous pull of beer. Rafe’s gaze falls to the bare column of your throat, and he temporarily loses his bearings. “Does loyalty mean absolutely nothing around here?”
Rafe grins appreciatively. “They’re bound to come back, you know.”
“And how can you be so sure?”
“Because,” Rafe pauses, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “we were all cursed by the hometown witch when we were babies.”
You let out a peal of laughter. “Is that why I came back here after college?”
It isn’t lost on you that Rafe is standing far closer to you than he should. His spicy, cedar-wood cologne presses over your figure in waves. He bows his head to eye level, still grinning his mirth, “It’s why we all did. It’s also why they aren’t going to last more than a year in Chicago, I’m calling it now.”
“Who isn’t going to last more than a year in Chicago?” Comes Brooklyn’s voice from behind him, pulling the pair of you from your reverie.
He breaks away and turns to find her standing behind him, her eyebrows raised accusatorially at your closeness.
You smile guiltily at her, raising your arms in surrender. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t deny it either!” Brooklyn reproaches, faux-scandalised. She sends Rafe a playful glare, reaching for your arm and pulling you away. “I’m rescuing her from your bad influence, Cameron.”
Rafe nods sagely, taking a sip of his beer. “I think that’s wise, Astor—” he balks, shaking his head, “—sorry, Smith. Shit, Brooklyn Smith, huh? Guess I can’t do that last name thing ‘round here anymore, can I?”
“Not with us,” she replies, turning the pair of you around. She sends you the ghost of a wink before adding, “Y/N’s fair game, though. You know she’d rather die than take a guy’s last name.”
Something in Rafe’s chest deflates. “Yeah?”
You frown at him over your shoulder, mildly bewildered. “You knew that, Cameron.”
Maybe I thought I was different. “True.” He raises his beer bottle in acknowledgement. “Besides, Y/L/N suits you too much.”
Not as much as Cameron would have, once upon a time. You nod approvingly, the twinge in your heart conveying the exact opposite. “Doesn’t it just?”
Brooklyn steers you to the kitchen under the pretence of grabbing a drink, her true intentions becoming obvious when Kelce pivots into earshot on his barstool.
“So?” She prods, rounding on you once you’ve halted. “What’s the deal?”
“Deal?” You echo, feigning confusion. “What deal?”
“Don’t do that,” she replies, narrowing her eyes accusatorially. “Are you guys seeing each other again?”
You swallow. Your gaze darts to a helpless-looking Kelce. “Why? Has he said something?”
“That’s the thing,” Kelce mutters, shaking his head thoughtfully. “He hasn’t. But he’s… different.”
You frown. “Different how?”
“I don’t know… chiller. Happier. Like he was before Ward passed away.”
“Of course he is,” Brooklyn snorts, not buying it for a second. “He’s finally being absolved of all his guilt!”
“Brooklyn…” you sigh.
“What? It’s true!” She asserts, crossing her arms across her chest. “He’s… listen, Y/N, whatever you think this is, you need to snap out of it. He’s proved time and time again that he doesn’t have the emotional capability to deal with his shit, and you’ve been made collateral too many times to forgive him this quick.”
“Quick?” Your chest feels on fire. Isn’t seven months of torture enough exoneration?
“C’mon baby, you’ve gotta cut him some slack,” Kelce assuages, gentle but firm. “He fucked up, sure, but he also lost his dad, remember?”
“Grieving or not, he shouldn’t have pushed her away.”
“Granted, but we’ll never know exactly how he was feeling —”
“We shouldn’t have to, you just don’t do that to someone you love —”
“I’m still here, you know,” you interrupt quietly, frowning. “That someone that Rafe doesn’t love.”
A pause. Its silence that’s distilled in the overhead lighting, the scene beneath it awash in dim regret.
Brooklyn’s features are softer when she breaks the silence. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I just… I worry about you.”
You know she does; it isn’t her fault. She’s the one that slept over for four weeks straight post break-up, forced food down your throat and wiped away all your tears.
“Don’t apologise, Brooke, I get it,” you say, sending her a small smile. “But I’m fine, I promise. This isn’t even… this feels different.”
“Different how?”
“Like… you know that saying: ‘You’ll never find the same person twice, not even in the same person’? That’s how this feels. We haven’t fallen back into old habits.”
Brooklyn regards this for a moment, surveying your features carefully. “But you’ve been hanging out?”
“Only once,” you reply honestly. “Sent a few texts back and forth, that’s all. If… if anything were to happen, it’d be like a new relationship, not like restarting the old one. You know?”
“I do.”
Kelce smiles. “That’s… shit, that makes sense.” There’s a wistfulness to his voice. “That’s why I couldn’t figure out what it reminds me of, this different him that’s chilled and happy.”
You furrow your brow. “Hm?”
“It’s freshman year him all over again,” he explains. “You know… when the two of you got close the first time ‘round.”
“Oh.” Your heart soars. “Square one, huh?”
Kelce shrugs, sharing a meaningful look with Brooklyn. “Square one I guess.”
You’re about to respond when Rafe’s figure pulls your gaze, his crossed arms and broad shoulders blocking the kitchen entrance. He’s wearing a handsome expression and his hair is perfectly unkempt, the heady scent of his cologne juxtaposing his lack of proximity.
Sometimes, life is unfair. Your ex-boyfriend, now new friend, eliciting such un-platonic thoughts is one of those instances.
And it isn’t as though you’ve given Rafe much of a break, his blue eyes caught on your figure like a moth to a flame. You aren’t wearing a dress he recognises, which is both a delightful and agonising revelation.
Delightful, because it reveals bare expanses of skin that make his wretched hands itch in longing. Agonising, because it’s a reminder of the seven long months that he’s had to spend grappling with your absence.
Having a smile as pretty as yours is extremely unfair, all things considered. And eyes. Soft skin. He needs to stop staring before he does something stupid.
“Perfect,” he announces brusquely, “are we hosting our intervention now?”
He looks at you expectantly. You raise your eyebrows. “You know,” he adds, “the one where we beg them to stay in the Banks?”
“Hey!” Brooklyn exclaims, her green eyes full of mirth. “What d’you mean stay in the Banks? Newsflash, I’m not even from here.”
“You’re not from Chicago either, Ast-Smithy,” he returns significantly, sending her a meaningful glance. “Besides, you married into a Figure Eight family. You are very officially one of us now.”
“Not for long!” Brooklyn sings, sending you a wink.
“C’mon, Smith,” Rafe tries, turning to Kelce and feigning disappointment. “What happened to our sacred pact?”
“We were eight, Cameron.”
“And already privy to the tragedy of small-town life,” Rafe sighs faux-dramatically, nodding in agreement. “I’m bitter, alright? I thought I’d be the first one to get out of here.”
He glances over at you fleetingly as he says this. We’d be the first ones, his heart corrects in vain.
“As if,” you scoff, raising your eyebrows. “Mr Cameron fucking Development leave this place before me? No chance.”
Rafe grins roguishly, his blue eyes shining with amusement. “You’re all talk, Y/L/N. We both know it.” He sends Kelce and Brooklyn a meaningful glance. “We all are.”
“Yeah, yeah, we’re going to be here all fucking night if we keep arguing about this,” Brooklyn decides, patting Kelce’s thigh to prompt him to stand. “C’mon, baby, we should probably get back to mingling.”
“You know,” she adds, narrowing her eyes playfully. “‘Cause it’s the last time we’ll see some of these people.”
You let out a laugh, shaking your head bemusedly. Any retaliation on Rafe’s tongue fails at the timbre of it.
Once they’re out of sight, you turn to him, adopting a faux-somber look. “If we are truly doomed to a life in the Eight, will you promise me something?”
He’s still grappling with the fact that he’s a man starved of your beautiful laugh, now reborn. “Go on.”
“Should you find me yelling at Island Club employees about flower arrangements or charcuterie boards, shoot me.”
Rafe laughs, and it reverberates through your bones warmly. “And suffer alone? No way. I’ll meet you in the middle. Lobotomy?”
“No thoughts in my brain? So generous,” you tease. “Alright. It’s a deal.”
Rafe clinks his beer bottle against yours in confirmation, taking a generous pull of the bubbly liquid. “Can we trade promises?” He asks.
You take a sip in tandem, maintaining eye contact as you do so. There’s tension in the air, that familiar-new feeling manifest, and it’s no longer frightening, but rather a comforting embrace.
You marvel in it. Breaking free feels fruitless. “Yes.”
“If you make a plan to settle elsewhere, will you tell me?”
“Of course I will.” A pause. “Although, I think you’re right. I don’t think any of us are truly capable of leaving permanently.”
“If anyone is though, it’s you,” he says, so matter-of-factly, like he actually believes it. “I mean… you’re the only one who had the balls to go to a college out of state. The rest of us just accepted a cushy offer at UNC.”
“Doesn’t matter,” you dismiss. “I was back here so often I barely left.”
Rafe raises his eyebrows. “Only because you had a reason to come back.” You still do, if you’ll take me.
I still do, if you’ll take me. “True.” You frown, thinking on this for a moment. “Even so… I don’t know. Maybe it’s that hometown curse talking, but I wouldn’t want to raise my kids anywhere else in the States.”
Rafe’s gaze steadies, pulsing through you in waves. “I get that. We had a pretty sweet childhood, all things considered.”
You make a face. “Like, I don’t think I can deal with this iPad kid epidemic. Least we were sheltered from all that crap, you know?”
“Yeah,” Rafe replies, raising his eyebrows significantly. “Even if there were plenty of other things to jade us with.”
“Shit, I know,” you respond, laughing bemusedly. “See, only people from the Eight know how political beach clean ups can get.”
Rafe chuckles in tandem, taking another sip of his beer. “God, our lives are fucking ridiculous.”
You raise your bottle in agreement. A comfortable silence falls between you.
After pause, Rafe speaks up again. “You know,” he says quietly, an unnameable emotion flickering across his blue irises. “I don’t even think it’s everyone in the Eight.”
You balk. “Hm?”
“The whole, knowing each other thing,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “You’ve always understood me better than anyone else.”
Your traitorous heart leaps, and you force yourself to ignore it. Actions have always spoken louder than words, and you decide now’s as good a time as any to confront him about this.
It’s time to be brave, you decide. You say, “I find that hard to believe.”
“Why?”
“Elle.”
Rafe’s miserable heart falters, penitence like a lump in his throat. He’s been preparing for this accusation since your very first reunion, but it still doesn’t feel like enough; he’s a coward trembling at the frontlines, anyway.
“I’ve… we’ve… my therapist and I have talked about that situation at length.”
You eyes widen in surprise. “Your therapist?”
“I’ve been going to therapy, yeah,” Rafe replies, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “For a month or so now, every week without fail.”
It isn’t lost on you that Brooklyn and Kelce’s wedding was a month ago. The rift in your ribcage widens.
“Has it been helping?” You ask.
“A bit,” Rafe admits. “Mostly just to validate what I knew all along, I guess.” At your silence, he continues, “That… shit, that I’ve got this problem where I push people away when I need them the most. The Elle thing, there’s no fucking excuse for it, none, but it became pretty obvious after you confronted me that she was just a rebound.”
“A rebound,” you echo.
“A distraction, an escape… I don’t know.” He rakes his fingers through his hair slovenly. “All I know is, I didn’t care about her, so I didn’t have to push her away. She didn’t make me talk about my dad, my grief, anything, so she was easy enough company to have around when I felt like it.”
“Oh.” You swallow. “But I did.”
“But you did,” Rafe affirms, grimacing sheepishly. “Shit, all you fucking did was care about me and all I did was push you away.”
You try to be pragmatic. “Grief makes people do shitty things.”
“It doesn’t matter. You didn’t deserve it.”
“True.” A pause. Your gaze falls over Rafe’s face in paces, his haggard expression making you soften. “Listen. I’m glad you’re going to therapy, seriously. I know that’s a pretty big step for you to take.”
For you. “Thank you,” he replies quietly. “It… I just wish I’d listened to you the first time, you know? When you’d told me to go to therapy before I’d ended things.”
Your throat feels funny. “No use living in the past.”
“You’re right,” Rafe replies. A pause. The ghost of a smile flickers over his features. “What did I ever do to deserve your forgiveness?”
You smile in tandem, a little rueful. “Maybe you were a martyr in your past life, Cameron.”
“And you’re one in this one,” Rafe responds. “You know, after I lobotomise you over flower arrangements and charcuterie boards. Does that count as a full circle moment?”
You grin. “Not when you live on the Eight. Infinity sign, baby.”
It slips out before you can stop yourself, the ghost of pet-names past pushing Rafe’s pulse to fibrillation. Your eyes widen abashedly. “Should we rejoin the party?”
Rafe nods, “Probably,” and then, when you’re just out of earshot, “I’d do something stupid if we didn’t.”
—
Over the next few weeks, you begin to see more and more of one another.
A few texts back and forth become more than a few virtual trysts, and every spare moment you have is dedicated to being in each other’s presence.
And it isn’t as though you’re mending old love, this feels like something else altogether. Though old memories may flit through your brain on occasion, they are boundless and free — they don’t define this connection.
You’re starting anew. Rafe realises it too.
He still remembers how it felt to tell you he loved you the first time around, fourteen years old with a bashful smile and enough hope in his heart to ache. He still remembers what you were wearing the first time he drove you around; the first time you came to UNC to visit; the shade of lipgloss you worshipped from Sephora. And you remember it all too, the feeling of being in his pick-up, of being with this roguish, freshman boy that had so much charm your insides soared.
Going through it all again feels like receiving a new lease on life. How lucky are you to love a different person in the same man?
Currently, the pair of you are sprawled out on beach towels, velvet dusk revealing the bespangled sky stretching above you. Beside you, take-out boxes and sodas lie in the sand, discarded. Every now and then, his wrist brushes yours with a jolt of static.
You’re lying closer to each other than you should, his body heat pressing over you in paces. He’s pretty sure his clothes are going to smell like your soft-toned, vanilla perfume later, and he quietly delights in this.
“I’ve been thinking,” he says finally, breaking the silence.
You smile. “Shocker.”
He nudges your shoulder with his in faux-admonishment, turning his head toward you. It lingers; he’s closer. Your pulse feels boundless. “I’ve been thinking,” he repeats. “And I’ve realised something.”
You turn your head in tandem, his proximity making you balk. “What’s that, Cameron?”
“If we hadn’t broken up in the first place, I’d probably never have gone to therapy.”
A hush falls. “True.”
“And I’d never have worked through my emotional unavailability and all the problematic shit that comes with it.” He pauses, a heavy emotion making his blue eyes somber. “We’d have stayed together, but I’d never have become the man that you deserve.”
You swallow. “Is that what you are now?” You murmur, your voice unsure. “The man I deserve?”
“I don’t think so,” he answers quietly. “Don’t think I ever will be. But… but I’m working on it, properly this time. And getting to know you again, for real, has made me realise just how worth it this is.”
It’s too much. You make to turn away but Rafe’s hand stops you, gentle but firm on your face. His thumb swipes over your warm cheek in comforting circles, and you find yourself leaning into his touch inadvertently.
Uh oh, you’re falling in love. You sigh. “It feels inevitable, huh?”
“D’you believe in soulmates, Y/N?”
Your lashes flutter shut in response. Rafe inches closer still, his hand slipping down to your jaw, and when he kisses you, old embers create a new flame within your heart. It’s chaste, unsure, a second first kiss. And yet, though it’s soft, the press of his lips is a ravaging embrace.
“Do you, Rafe?” You return, opening your eyes tentatively.
His gaze is still trained on your pretty mouth, less iris than pupil as his yearning transcends everything else. He presses his thumb on your lower lip gently. “Only if it’s you.”
“I think I am,” you murmur.
Rafe smiles. Oh no, he’s falling in love again. “I think you are too.”
—
I thought the plane was going down / How’d you turn it right around?
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x you#rafe x reader#rafe x you#rafe x y/n#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron oneshot
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Can you write HDC where Smoke, Kaui Liang and Bihan take care of their girlfriend who's sick? :)
of course! i'm gonna make this for a gender neutral reader tho, since i have a lot of female asks! this might be one of my favorite tropes
cw: fluff!!!, Bi-Han's just a little bit distant, proofread
ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɴ ᴋᴜᴇɪ ᴛʀɪᴏ + ᴀ ꜱɪᴄᴋ ᴘᴀʀᴛɴᴇʀ
Tomas...
worries over you. He's by your side, 24/7, even if you insist he'll get sick too. He doesn't care, he wants to make sure your okay. Tomas is at your beck and call, making sure your comfortable. Feeling cold? He's got three blankets picked out for you, take one, take all. Want a warm bath? Already drawn, he's even got some florals, candles, and soaks picked out. Thirsty? He's got some green tea already brewed. Or, if you don't like tea, he has some orange juice, or water if you so choose. Tomas has some soup for you, too. Česnečka, a Czech garlic soup. Something he says will cure anything. He'll even sing you a Czech lullaby every night, if you ask nicely.
Eventually, when you recover from your cold, and Tomas inevitably ends up falling ill, you'll be there to give him the same treatment.
Bi-Han...
doesn't quite know what to do. Yes, he's worried, but amongst being the grandmaster of the Lin Kuei, and his cold demeanor, he believes he doesn't have much time to worry over you. It is only when Liu Kang- of all people- pushes him in the right direction. With his trust over the Lin Kuei in his brothers hand, he never leaves your bedside. Unless you ask, of course. Bi-Han is very soft with you, and really, all he wants to do is hold you. He knows he can't, but it's kind of hard to hold himself back! While he doesn't know what to do, he will do anything you ask of him, short of kissing you. Bi-Han, unlike Tomas, has some restraint, and he'd rather have you save your strength, and not have to worry about him after your sick. Ask, and ye shall receive. Down to the very specifics. As many blankets as you want, as many pillows as you want, the exact temperature of your bath, what herbs could make you feel better, how to carry you, etc.
And, as much as Bi-Han wants you to rest, ultimately, he'll end up giving into those pretty eyes of yours, and go on a walk with you. It's okay, though, the fresh air will do you some good.
Kuai Liang...
dotes over you. He's afraid of you being sick, even if it is just a common cold. Somehow, seeing you weak and bedridden makes his stomach churn. He's worried sick. It's only when Bi-Han tells Kuai Liang to be with you that he fully devotes himself to your care. He is very physically present, he has to be touching you somewhere. Mainly, he keeps your pinkies linked, even in the slightest. The minute he was freed of his duties he had gotten you everything you could possibly need. He has so many teas chosen for you, and even more spicy foods. He wants to make sure you eat well, but Kuai Liang can't say no to you, so when you ask for a cookie, a slice of cake, something sweet that you maybe should avoid, he's still going to get it for you. He will always carry you to your bath, too. And wash your hair. As long as whatever he's doing helps you feel better in any way, he doesn't mind. And afterwards, he'll put new, clean sheets on your bed. Kuai Liang doesn't give himself much room to fail, much less to fail you.
So, when you finally regain your strength, it is almost as if Kuai Liang is a new man, more focused and lethal than ever.
© freyito, 2023 | masterlist | queue | kofi
DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.
#⁺◟freyito#mortal kombat 1 x reader#bi han x reader#sub zero x reader#smoke x reader#tomas vrbada x reader#scorpion x reader#kuai liang x reader
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MCYT ; songs that they associate with you
includes tommyinnit, tubbo, freddie badlinu, ranboo, quackity
warnings ; horrible music taste. Did a few for each of them lmaooo. also let's act like dmca doesn't exist on twitch or whatever. if schlatt can play Fleetwood Mac on stream then who cares yk
masterlist
BADLINU
Kiss From A Rose ; Seal
You guys watched Batman Forever together and this song came on during credits. Life changing experience.
You had the DVD version with the music video bonus, that was being replayed for like twenty minutes
He has it on almost every playlist he has
He seems like the type of person to make a private, bad quality edit/music video of you two to it
Goosebumps ; Sorana
Dude this song perfectly reflected how he felt before you guys got together 🙏🙏
Plays this on stream when you're streaming with him for background noise.
Before you get together, he still plays it, just makes sure to not let you know that he feels that exact way about you.
Little inside joke between you two, it's kinda your song in a way
Editors love editing you guys to this song omg. They're always cute as hell too
TOMMYINNIT
FaceTime with my Mom (Tonight) ; Bo Burnham
You guys karaoke-d the shit out of this song on stream with Jack and Freddie.
It became a core memory for him. You were only friends at the time but it kinda made him realize that he wanted to be more than just your friend.
He actually FaceTimed his mom afterwards and she said hello to chat and everything
Little funny moment that he loves to think about
Someday (Remastered) ; Sugar Ray
He found this song on your older music playlist
He plays it a lot and thinks about you
Like daydreams that you're on a warm beach with all your friends and stuff
The song has like a warm, summery vibe to it so all summer he makes sure this comes up on your queue when streaming or in the car or whatever.
You guys probably dance around the living room to this song idk
TUBBO
Where The Lines Overlap ; Paramore
"No one is as lucky as us" REAL.
He cherishes you in his own special way yk?
He thinks he's so lucky to have you when you're surprised you could even pull someone, let alone him
Before you guys started dating, he saw an edit of you two to this song and he religiously watched it LMAO
You're both Paramore fans so this worked out perfectly.
Orange Show Speedway ; Lizzy McAlpine
the guitar sounds exactly how you feel to him if that makes sense
the happy nostalgia/dopamine rush kind of feel makes him all smiley and makes him think of you
he literally fell in love at a car speedway show that you two went to together for a little "first date" vlog so 🙏🙏🙏
it's just perfect idk man
RANBOO
Already Over ; Mike Shinoda
this song reminds me a lot of genloss so yk I had to include it here
but yeah, genloss vibes
reminds them a lot of yours and his genloss characters and their relationships and whatnot
when on set for s2 they listen to this on repeat bc your dynamic is so cool
although the viewers r desperately trying to kill you bc you're kind of at fault for genloss! rans trauma/predicament
they'll figure out that's not totally true tho
White Noise ; James Marriott
"I'd quite like to go home now" mother fucker you are his home :(
you're the "What's the point of having a friend when you're on your own in the end" outlook and they're the "I'll make an attempt knowing that I'll fuck it up" in a /pos outlook
you two go perfectly together
like two puzzle pieces, straight the fuck up
the cutest of dynamics
QUACKITY
Le Jardin ; La Femme
you guys watched Fresh together (10/10 btw)
this song came on halfway through and you soundsearched it and quickly dove into the la femme rabbit hole
he thought it was adorable cause you kind of understood the music but he understood completely
honestly got you into learning Spanish more
he literally only sees you listening to la femme to the point where he's a little concerned
you're just addicted to the paradigmes album you're fine
but he does play this on stream a lot just for you
editors go crazy after figuring out its always being played for you omg
Don't Want It ; Lil Nas X
holy shit this song goes hard
anyways yall always play this to get hyped up
he found an edit of you guys to this song and he thinks about it 24/7
literally the "people in my life should know I am not the old me" and the "wanted happiness, wanted forgiveness" duo
I can't explain it it's just vibes
#lowkeyrobin#badlinu x reader#ranboo x reader#quackity x reader#tommyinnit x reader#tubbo x reader#mcyt oneshot#mcyt preferences#mcyt x reader
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warm, cool, sweet and bitter
cafe!owner nanami x reader - gn!reader - sfw - wc 1.6k
"not going for the usual?"
nanami's question is delivered casually and carefully, the low tones of his voice carrying across the empty floor of the restaurant.
his restaurant, to be exact. your favourite spot for a late-night cup of tea and the only place in the city that serves sandwiches made with baguettes baked fresh in-house, you find yourself here around 4am at least four days a week.
it's funny; your schedules make it so that the end of your day always coincides with the start of nanami's. he comes in early to put the pastries in the oven, to grind the coffee beans to the correct consistency, to ensure that there's enough stock to last the coming few hours. he's always occupied with some task or another -- for his sake, you're glad you're the only customer at this hour.
though the restaurant is a veritable ghost town whenever you visit, he has told you it tends to pick up around 7am. within the hour, there's a queue out the door.
the popularity doesn't surprise you. nothing beats the welcoming aroma of fresh bread from the oven, the slightly bitter but warm scent of brewing coffee enveloping you into a little bubble sheltered from the usual hustle and bustle of the streets outside.
the bar you work at is just three doors down, and so by the time last call is announced, you're already thinking of the warm baguette you're going to enjoy before rushing home to collapse into bed.
the same baguette every time, with the same blend of tea. you're fairly certain he gives you the same mug every time, too, a beautifully crafted piece of porcelain with little hand-painted yellow flowers decorating the sides.
you've carved out a nice little routine for yourself. but as nanami so astutely pointed out a moment ago, you figure it's time to change it.
some aspects of the routine stay the same; you sit on the same counter stool you always sit at, placed just beside the coffee maker so you can chat as nanami prepares a macchiato for himself. nanami looks the same, dressed in that familiar shirt and slacks that seem perfectly tailored just for him. the smooth jazz playlist plays so quietly in the background that it's barely legible -- you only catch a note or two every few minutes.
but you are going to change one key aspect of this ironclad routine: your order.
"yeah, gonna go for coffee today, i think," you inform him, trying to sound assured in your decision. "a double epresso, please."
"a double? at four in the morning?"
he casts a questioning look your way from over the counter and you shrug, trying to ignore the ache of your muscles as you do so. as he hand-whisks some whipped cream for the pastries, a few strands of his blond hair fall into his eyes. he tries to flick them away to no avail.
you swallow, a lump forming in your throat as you think of how to reply.
"busy day ahead of me, i guess."
nanami nods slowly -- out of politeness, you presume, since there's no way he knows what you're referring to.
your purposeful vagueness isn't to be rude, though, it's just saving you both from extreme awkwardness.
since the reason you're loading up on caffeine is so that you're fully charged to go and break up with your cheating boyfriend.
your pathetic, free-loading, unable to do his own laundry, didn't even have the courtesy to crop you out of the pictures he used on his Tinder profile, miserable excuse for a boyfriend.
in the middle of your lunchbreak you received a text from a girl he'd been hooking up with, who had very kindly spotted your picture on his social media and decided to inform you as to the calibre of man you were calling your significant other.
you thanked her, typed up a three-sentence long text telling your boyfriend it was over, and blocked him.
he had then used his friend's phone to call you, weeping for a chance to explain, snivelling and choking out inarticulate apologies, and you agreed to see him one last time.
just to give him a piece of your mind before cutting him off for good. it'll be good for closure, you figure.
you're more angry than heartbroken -- honestly, you're not sure you ever really liked him. six months into this relationship and you find yourself looking forward to these conversations with nanami more than you do spending time with the man you're actually seeing.
were seeing. past tense, thankfully.
nanami bends down to place the whipped cream in the fridge, dusting some residual flour from his royal blue shirt as he rises again.
"sounds like more than just a busy day," he observes patiently, measuring out some espresso grounds to pull your coffee. "want to talk about it?"
against the odds, your exhausted face brightens with a smile. "there's good customer service, and then there's me taking advantage of your hospitality, nanami."
shaking his head amusedly as he shakes off the excess grounds from the basket, he chuckles, a low, pleasant sound that lodges in your chest.
"it's not taking advantage if i'm offering willingly."
"you don't have enough to do around here?" you grin.
"oh, i do. but hearing about your problem might make me feel better about having to spend three hours doing stock take later this evening."
"ah, so i'm doing you a service moaning about my personal life?"
"absolutely. in fact, if it's tragic enough, i'll throw in a pain au chocolate free of charge."
"high stakes," you reply with a faux solemnity. "you really want to hear?"
"very much so," he answers, the sentence being punctuated by the hum of the espresso machine.
"okay then," you sigh, fidgeting with the rings on your right hand as some vain attempt to distract yourself. "the short of it is that i just wasted six months of my life. half a year. five percent of a decade that i'll never get back."
nanami waits for the espresso to finish pouring, the deep amber of the coffee shot wafting steam up into the air between the two of you.
"wasted how?"
another sigh, wearier this time. "on a guy who i genuinely think has annoyed me since i met him."
silence. this time, it doesn't appear to be coffee-related.
but when you glance away from your rings to see nanami's face, you see that it's more pensive than judgemental. as though he's truly considering what to say next.
"why did you agree to go out with him in the first place?" he asks after another few moments, brows slightly pinched together.
a fair question. one you're not entirely sure of the answer to.
"fear of the alternative?" you hazard a guess, acutely aware of how strange it is to be speaking so candidly with a guy you only know through your shared love for baked goods.
"being alone?" he follows up with a sincerity that cuts through any discomfort.
"i guess."
"i know what you mean," nanami continues, finally remembering the espresso shot that's still sitting on the tray.
he takes the cup -- your usual, because neither of you thought to forego that part of the routine -- and sets it before you, muscles in his forearms straining when he crosses them over his chest afterwards.
"you do not," you mumble instictively. the words fall out without you thinking, but they're not meant maliciously; it's just that nanami is so ... eligible, for lack of better word. handsome, engaging, owns his own thriving café.
he makes fresh eclairs every single morning, for crying out loud. you cannot fathom a world in which people aren't lining up to be with him.
though your blurted words could be perceived as rude, nanami just smiles softly, amusement reaching his eyes as they lock with yours.
"want me to tell you something?"
"is it as embarrassing as my fact?" you query, knocking back most of your coffee in one swig.
"unquestionably."
at that, you set the cup back down abruptly, clinking it against the saucer.
"really?"
he just nods. you sit back on the stool, feeling the plush backing of the stool against your lower back.
"go on, then."
"i don't actually open this early."
your face scrunches into an expression of pure confusion; nanami's lips quirk upwards in response.
"what do you mean? do you open in like ... a half hour?"
he shakes his head, those strands of hair falling loose again.
something washes over you, a sense of recognition, connecting the dots slowly in your tired, over-exerted brain.
"nanami ..."
"yes?"
"... do you not open until seven?"
nanami's weighted silence answers your question.
you breathe in, out. blink haplessly up at him.
you're sure your coffee is starting to get cold, but you make no attempt to drink it.
"i - what - what are you - why do you let me come in here three hours early? why did you never say anything?"
you choke out the words desperately, flooded with a dozen different feelings at once.
he stays smiling, but something else flashes in his eyes. you see the already-tense muscles of his arms tighten further.
"why do you think i never said anything?"
#nanami x reader#gn reader#nanami kento x reader#sfw#may tries to write#hey let me know if you want me to write more on this teehee!#nanowrimo
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Share Our Skin (part 1).
18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI
______________________________________
A/N: Hi everyone! It's been ages since I last posted a fic on here, so I am really nervous.
I have been working on this one for a while now. This is the first part of a wonderfully unhinged request from the lovely @twistedmelodies. Hannah, I really cannot thank you enough for your incredible patience and kindness!
This series is going to have three parts; the first two are building the background for the third and last chapter that is going to be 🔥.
I really hope you like this.
Word count: 8.1K
Pairing: Josh x female!reader
Warnings: fluff, NSFW 18+ONLY, graphic sexual content, oral (f!receiving), protected sex, rat tail Josh.
Summary: You stumble upon a nice little cinema in the city you have just moved to and you meet an even nicer boy, there.
_____________________________________
You didn't do that on purpose.
Absolutely not.
But, as you would soon learn, in life you should always prepare for trouble and only hope for it not to become double.
It was safe to say, though, that this time you had fucked up big time.
You had met him at your local cinema.
You had just moved to a new town alone and you had started to explore your surroundings, trying to find some interesting things to do, when you had stumbled upon a nice little cinema, just at the corner of your neighborhood.
You almost hadn't noticed it at first because it was mid afternoon on a Wednesday and it was closed.
The building looked absolutely anonymous but, as you lifted your gaze to the darkening clouds swirling in the sky, promising a storm soon, you spotted a faded unlit white and red sign saying "Cinema" and nothing more.
You made a mental note to try it on Saturday night, though.
You loved going to the cinema, so having one so close was making you feel a little less like a fish out of the water in a town you didn't know well.
Saturday evening came quickly.
You got ready and made your way to the building, finding the sign lit and a small queue of people just outside the door, which was still closed.
You learned that every Saturday evening they showed old movies. That night they were showing "To Catch a Thief", one of your favorite ever.
You waited in line and about ten minutes later you heard the sound of keys giggling and the door finally opened.
People slowly started to move inside and soon you were standing in front of the ticket booth.
The cinema from the inside looked old-fashioned but the atmosphere was warm and inviting. The first thing you noticed upon entering was the salty buttery smell of fresh popcorn that brought you back to when you used to go to the cinema every Sunday afternoon with your parents.
A little sense of nostalgia about your childhood invaded you and you started to get lost into your head.
You were quickly brought out of your tangled thoughts by a voice, nice and crystal clear.
"Good evening, love. What can I do for you?"
The voice belonged to a boy about your age with curly hair and buzzed sides, a perfect heartstopping smile and the most sparkly brown eyes you had ever seen.
You were at a loss of words.
Your expression must have been incredibly funny because he giggled and repeated himself, his smile deepening even more,making a tiny dimple appear on his left cheek.
It was even worse.
He had the cutest giggle you had ever heard.
You had to bite the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from getting lost into your head again.
You blushed furiously and averted your eyes from his face, starting to stumble over your words making him giggle again, sweetly.
"Uh…I-I…" you tried to say but your brain didn't intend to cooperate.
You were making a fool of yourself and blocking the line. You heard people behind you starting to complain and you shook your head to finslly get a grip on yourself.
"Uh… a ticket please" you managed to say without looking at him and rummaging inside your purse for your wallet.
"It's 10$" he said, still smiling and as you handed him the money, your fingertips touched his and you felt a little jolt of electricity.
His fingers were warm and soft.
When he handed you the ticket he also slid a little chocolate bar your way.
When you frowned, he spoke.
"It's on the me, don't worry" he said gently and you blushed even more, thanking him in a sliver of voice and scurrying away absolutely embarrassed.
You kept scolding yourself for looking like an idiot in front of everyone.
When you entered the cinema room, you felt a nice warm feeling spread in your chest and again you remembered how much you loved and you missed cinemas.
The room brought you fifteen years back.
The cherry wood of the walls and the low golden lights made you feel at home.
The red velvet seats were incredibly soft to the touch and looked absolutely comfortable and well-kept.
The floor was covered in a dark grey carpeting that muffled your steps.
Like an enthusiastic child, you slowly made your way down the central corridor tracing your fingers dreamily against the side of the seats and scanning the room for the perfect spot.
Once you found it, you pulled down the seat and sat down on the soft cushion.
You started rummaging inside your purse for your phone and found the little chocolate bar the ticket-boy had gifted you and your stomach rumbled.
You had already had dinner so you weren't hungry. But you always had a sweet tooth so you couldn't resist.
You unwrapped the chocolate and took a bite.
Your eyes scanned the room slowly as you let the chocolate melt on your tongue. Inevitably your mind kept conjuring up images of the boy that had made your brain go blank and you mentally slapped yourself again for the terrible first impression you made.
Suddenly, the light faded out and the white screen came to life, making you momentarily forget about the cute boy and your clumsiness.
You lost yourself in the images.
Grace Kelly's dresses were a dream and Cary Grant was absolutely stunning. You were transported back in time by Hitchcock's virtuosity.
Before you knew it, the end credits were rolling slowly onto the screen and the light were turned on again.
People started to exit the room quietly and you stood to follow them.
You were the last one to exit.
The boy wasn't behind the register now, but he had a broom and was carefully sweeping the floor near the exit door.
He lifted his eyes from the ground as you approached the door and was quick to grab the door handle and open the door for you, like Cary Grant had done in the movie, you noticed.
Such a gentleman, you thought, a delicate blush covered your cheeks and his at the same time.
You thanked him. As you stood there ready to go home, he let go of the broom, leaning it against the wall and offered you his hand.
"I'm Josh," he said with that same big smile and bright eyes as before.
You reciprocated the greeting and introduced yourself too, shaking his hand.
He repeated your name slowly, rolling every letter on his tongue and you found yourself staring at his full lips moving.
He kept your hand in his for a second longer than what was considered usual and you couldn't help but notice his warmth and softness, compared to your icy skin.
You both blushed as you shook hands and let go, awkwardly standing one in front of the other in silence
"Well, I really have to go now," you said to break the silence.
"Good night, Josh" you added with a small smile and you saw his eyes twinkling upon hearing his name rolling off your tongue.
He wished you good night, too, as you exited and slowly started to make your way back towards your flat.
When you crossed the road, you couldn't help but turn around and look towards the building.
A warm smile spread on your lips before you could stop yourself when you saw that he was already looking at you from behind the cinema glassdoor.
As you caught him staring, he swiftly hid behind the wall but showed up again seconds later with a guilty grin and a hand rubbing the back of his neck, a bit embarassed.
God he is so sweet, you thought and blushed under his gaze despite being so far away from him.
He waved at you and you reciprocated, feeling something stir in your belly, like a hundred butterflies spreading their fluttering multicolored wings.
That night you couldn't fall asleep for hours and when, finally, sleep graced you, your dreams were haunted by beautiful brown eyes and contagious smiles.
You woke up with a jolt to the sound of your alarm clock. You cursed it because it had interrupted the sweetest dream you had ever had.
Of course you were dreaming of Josh.
You were afraid that you were starting to develop the biggest crush on that little cinema guy.
By the end of the week, you were sure you were madly in love with him.
You couldn't go five minutes without thinking about him and you hated yourself for that.
You didn't even know him, how could you feel that way for him already?
On Saturday evening you decided that you needed to see him again, the thought of his smile was more or less the only thing keeping you from saying to hell with everything. The week at work had been absolutely draining so you really needed a breath of fresh air.
And, of course, the cinema was the first thing that came to your mind.
This time they were showing "Pulp Fiction". You had already seen it millions of times but you didn't mind as long as you could see him again.
There were more people waiting outside than the last time.
When you entered, you saw him there, tearing tickets and serving popcorn and beverage to customers, expertedly.
Your heart started beating wildly as you waited for your turn.
Finally, you were in front of him again.
When he saw you, you were graced with that heartstopping smile that your brain had replayed hundreds of times in your dreams.
He greeted you using your name in his usual sweet tone and you tried not to swoon in front of him.
"How are you tonight? Ready for some Tarantino?" He asked playfully and you nodded, unable to control your smile.
"Yes, I am. I've seen it many times but never in a cinema, actually" you confessed as he gave you your ticket and change.
"Oh, it's way better on the big screen, trust me" he said and winked as he handed you the little bag of popcorn you had ordered.
You blushed at the gesture and entered the cinema room.
You chose your usual spot and you started eating popcorn waiting for the movie to start.
The film was almost finished when you reached the bottom of the popcorn box, feeling the little grains of salt under your fingertips.
And something else too.
There was something inside.
You took the item between your fingers and brought it out of the box. Thanks to the light coming from the screen you saw what it was.
It was the same chocolate bar that he had offered you the first time you met. But it wasn't alone. It was attached to a little strip of paper folded on itself.
You detached the chocolate from the paper and unfolded it.
Despite the darkness, you could see what had been handwritten inside.
"This is to make it up to you for last Saturday night. I should have at least offered to walk you home. I shouldn't have let you go out alone at night. I am so sorry. I would have never forgiven myself if something had happened to you. I hope this doesn't come off as rude or creepy but here's my number, don't hesitate to text me when you get home safe or whenever you want to know what films we are showing.
P.S. Please, ignore this if I am overstepping.
Josh :)
You blushed instantly and unconsciously brought the paper close to your heart as you felt butterflies go crazy in your stomach.
Nobody had ever been so thoughtful with you.
You couldn't stop smiling and, as the credits started to roll on the screen and the light switched on again, you stood and walked out of the room to see if he was there.
You wanted to thank him for his kind gesture, but once you were in the hall, he was nowhere to be seen.
An old man with round glasses and kind eyes was sweeping the floor, exactly like Josh had been last Saturday.
You were a bit disappointed.
You wished him goodnight and walked home.
Once you arrived home, you decided to text that number anyway.
With trembling fingers you typed a brief message.
Hi, Josh. I found your message inside the box. Thank you for your kindness. I have just gotten home safe. Please, feel free to text me the scheduled films every week, thank you.
P.S. You were right! The film was so much better on the big screen!
Goodnight.
You signed the message and before you could start mulling over it and overthinking, you sent it.
A few minutes later, your phone vibrated on your nightstand.
I am glad you got home safe and you enjoyed the film.
Sweet dreams!
Josh.
You felt again those damn wings flutter in your chest. You read the message hearing his voice in your ears and you blushed even though nobody could see you.
You were already smitten with him.
That night you dreamt about him again.
~
It started like that.
Every Thursday he texted you the scheduled movies and every Saturday night you texted him when you got home safe.
He was always so sweet every time you saw him and every time you fell a little more in love with him.
Every Saturday night he kept offering you the same chocolate bar, hiding it inside your popcorn box together with a little slip of paper where he wrote little anecdotes about the movie you were watching.
He told you he was a film nerd, but you were honestly impressed by the extent of his knowledge.
One Saturday evening, the weather looked awful but, after a long week at work, you didn't really feel like staying at home. And you needed to see him, his smile was more or less the only thing that helped you keep your sanity.
You had spent the entire afternoon baking a cake for him, to thank him for all the times he had offered you a chocolate bar and shared his precious knowledge with you.
You had opted for a chocolate fudge cake, since he gave you major chocolate vibes.
Dark, sweet and captivating. The website described the recipe with those three words and they made you think about him, immediately.
The recipe wasn't exactly easy, so you spent all afternoon mixing and stirring ingredients and then wiping and cleaning the kitchen.
Once the cake was in the oven, you showered and started to get ready to go out.
You had been so busy that you didn't even heard your phone vibrate with a message and then a phone call.
When everything was ready, you placed the cake in a box and exited your apartment.
The sky was dark. The clouds swirling fast and looking menacing and an intermittent rumble of thunder could be heard in the distance.
You grabbed an umbrella and walked to the cinema.
Once you arrived there, though, you were very surprised to find the sign unlit and the doors closed.
You checked the time on your watch and noticed that the cinema was usually open at that hour.
You knocked but the lights inside were off.
You started to worry that something had happened to him
You knocked again, just before a loud thunder shook the glassdoor.
You flinched at the loud noise but your heart flooded with relief as the lights inside switched on and you saw Josh make his way towards you with keys in his hand.
His smile was a little surprised but beaming as always.
"Hi, darling, what are you doing here? The storm is about to hit" he greeted you and said, looking up at the darkening sky.
"You didn't read my text, did you?" He added then, still smiling, at your confused expression.
You panicked and started rummaging through your bag for your phone.
"Hey, hey, calm down, it's ok!" He said placing a warm hand on your arm. "I texted you to tell you that tonight the cinema was closed due to the incoming storm. I even called you but after one call I didn't insist because I thought you were out with somebody and I didn't want to bother you." He said sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck and smiling, a little embarrassed. His cheeks pinkened slightly.
"Oh, I am so sorry Josh, I spent the entire afternoon baking this cake and I didn’t look at my phone." You started rambling, then added in a sliver of voice, "this is for you, for your kindness and sweetness"
You handed him the box as you started to back away from the door.
"Hey, darling, please don't go. Stay. I am really happy to see you. I don't want you to go away and…" he stopped for a second before continuing, casting his eyes down to the pavement.
"And I don't really feel like staying here alone working during a storm, so please stay" he said quickly, his cheeks pinkening even more.
"You can even choose the film tonight, it will be a private screening" he added and winked, playfully.
You blushed at his sweet request and after a few seconds you agreed. In reality, you had decided straight away to stay, but you didn't want him to believe you were too desperate.
His smile beamed even more when you accepted and he motioned for you to take his arm.
Then he closed the door behind you and escorted you inside like a gentleman, thanking you profusely for the cake.
You were really afraid he could hear your heart beating wildly in your chest at the thought of spending the evening alone with him.
He started leading you to a part of the cinema that was restricted to the public.
He opened a door, flicked on the lights and motioned for you to enter.
At that moment, you understood that he had taken you to the very screening room. You had never been inside one and you were mesmerized by everything you saw there.
You gasped and he chuckled.
"Here's were the magic happens" he said while spreading his arms wide.
You started to take a look around but you were interrupted by his voice as he placed the cakebox on the table and opened it.
"Wow, love! This cake looks delicious! How did you know chocolate is one of my favourite things in the world?" He asked, his eyes glittering with happiness.
"I just guessed" you answered sheepishly, blushing at his compliment.
He looked at you with a strange light in his eyes but the moment was interrupted by a loud thunder that shook the whole building.
You both flinched at the loud sound.
"Now, I really have to sort these new films that arrived today. But you can do as you were at home, you can choose the movie you want to see and I'll set it up for you while you get comfortable on the seats downstairs." He explained.
He pointed to a staircase that lead to the cinema room downstairs.
"Are you sure you don't need a hand with those films? I can help you so we can sort it out quickly and watch the movie together." You asked tentatively. You really didn't want to watch the movie alone while he worked.
It didn't seem right to you.
"Well, I don't really want you to work on Saturday night, really. I can do it myself, it won't take much time. Thank you, darling, but you just have to choose the movie and relax" he said sweetly, motioning you towards a closet full of rolls of film.
He left you there and you started to take a look around among all those movies.
This was honestly one of your dreams coming true.
You always loved movies and you always wanted to know what happened behind the door of the screening room.
You felt giddy being in such a special place.
Your eyes landed almost immediately on one of your favorites of all the times.
Your friends and family mocked you because whenever there was a movie to choose, you always picked that one, without even caring about how many times you had seen it.
"The Shining" was written in bold red lettering on one side of a roll on the bottom of the closet.
You picked it gently, trying not to make the others fall to the ground.
You assessed the weight of the film between your hands and you felt like a little girl with her favorite toy.
You turned around and he lifted his gaze from one of the boxes of new films.
He spotted the title immediately and bit his lip with a beautiful smile.
You heard him mumble something low under his breath but you caught it anyway.
"God, you are perfect" he whispered before catching himself and giggling, noticing that you had heard him.
You blushed and so did he.
You really didn't want to watch the movie without him so you told him and offered again to help him.
"I'd love to see this, but only if you let me help you with those boxes first, I really mean it, Josh" you said and you saw as he mulled over your offer.
You knew he had refused your help only because he was a gentleman and didn't want to make you work on a Saturday.
You also knew that four hands were better that two, so you really wanted to convince him.
"You don't want to end up like Jack, do you?" You said tauntingly, referring to the main character of the movie.
"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, remember?" You continued and you saw his smile beaming again at your reference.
"All right, you sold me, darling," he said chuckling "I could really need some help. Plus, it's been a lot since I last watched that masterpiece, I'd love to see it again with you with the cinema all to ourselves. But only if you promise me that, after, you'll eat that cake with me" he added, pointing a finger at you.
"Ok, now tell me, what do we have to do?" You asked him, curiously.
"We have to classify these rolls briefly and then order them alphabetically on that shelf" he explained and you sat next to him, ready to work.
In less than an hour, you had finished and, meanwhile, the storm seemed to have passed. An occasional rumble of thunder could be heard far away.
He started thanking you profusely but you quickly interrupted him saying that that wasn't that big of a deal.
In reality, the truth was that you had loved spending some time alone with him. His presence was absolutely captivating and his eyes beaming while he told you every little thing he knew about those films. You could have listened to him talk for hours and hours nonstop about his passion.
"Now we can finally relax" he said, gently taking the roll you had previously chosen and starting the various machines that occupied one side of the room.
You watched mesmerized as he made quick work of operating the projector and you gasped when you saw the first images light up the screen in the cinema room from the little window in front of you.
He winked at you and you tried so hard not to swoon you had to bite your tongue.
"Here we go, love, let's go search for the best seats," he said, grabbing the cake box and guiding you down the stairs with a warm hand on your back.
You felt the butterflies go crazy in your stomach again at that simple touch.
He guided you to the center of the seats and motioned for you to choose.
You sat down in the same place you always chose and he sat down next to you placing the box on the seat next to him.
As the opening credits started to roll on the screen, he came closer to whisper into your ear.
"Wait here, I'll just go get two forks for the cake and I'll be right back" he said, his warm breath hitting your neck, making goosebumps raise onto your skin.
A few minutes later, he came back with two forks and two cans of coke. He settled them on the floor next to you.
As you thanked him, he opened the cake box and handed it to you, along with a fork so you could take the first bite.
"No, Josh, the cake is yours, you have to take the first bite. I really hope you like it" you said.
Worry started to creep up on you. You were mentally retracing the recipe steps for the millionth time to check if you had forgotten something.
You watched with bated breath as he sank the fork into the soft cake and brought a bite to his mouth.
He started chewing slowly and moaned in pleasure at the enveloping taste of the cake.
"Good Heavens, this is delicious, love. You are the queen of chocolate cakes." He said still chewing and looking at you, amazed.
You sighed in relief and watched mesmerized as his jaw clenched and unclenched with every bite he took.
You were quickly brought out of your reverie when he motioned for you to get a taste, too.
You had to admit that it was really good, and the perfect treat for a movie night with him.
As you ate and watched the movie, every once in a while he moved closer to whisper little anecdotes about the movie into your ear.
You usually hated when people disturbed you during a movie, but, with him, it was different.
His voice was so soothing and soft that you didn't want him to stop. You would have spent the entire night just listening to him talk about anything and everything.
After some time, you heard a sudden loud thunder and, all of a sudden, everything was dark around you.
"Oh, fuck" you heard him groan as you rummaged through your bag to get your phone and turn on the flashlight.
Its white light illuminated the room casting a spectral glow on everything.
"I can't believe it" he said again, dragging a hand on his face.
Another crash of thunder shook the building.
Then he started giggling. And you couldn't help but mirror him.
"Ok, I think that the storm decided that we shouldn't see anything tonight." He scoffed and you giggled, helpless.
Silence encompassed the room, then. The only sounds you could hear were his regular breathing and the harsh wind outside.
Suddenly he stood up with a new idea.
"Ok listen, I am pretty sure there are some candles under the stage. A few years ago this was a theatre, so there are a lot of scenery in the storage closet" he said with a hopeful look into his eyes.
"Let's go, lead the way" you said and stood up next to him.
You followed him through a door and down some narrow steps that led behind the white screen.
You almost fell on the floor because everything was extremely dark despite your flashlight.
He caught you before you could smash yourself to the ground and grasped one of your hands in his to keep you from falling again.
His skin was so soft and warm that you felt a little shock of electricity at the contact.
He guided you down the corridor and stopped in front of a door. He unlocked it and entered, bringing you with him.
The room was packed with all kinds of handpainted scenery.
He spotted the box of tealights and matches next to the very door and grabbed it. He handed it to you and grabbed what looked like a big pile of velvet fabric that was on a table.
"What is that?" You asked and he snickered.
"Those are the old velvet curtains of the theater. In case we get cold" he said and you laughed
"That's creative" you said and he chuckled.
"Let's go back, it's too dark in here" he said in a spooky voice.
"That sounds like a last line before getting killed by the monster in a horror movie" you whispered and he giggled.
Once you were back into the main cinema room you started placing tealights all around you and slowly the room was immersed in the golden light of many tiny flames.
You both decided to move to the first row of seats, right in front of the stage, so there was more light.
You sat down next to him again and you both listened in silence to the storm raging outside.
Then he turned towards you and spoke.
"I am glad you are here but I am sorry that you are stuck with me instead of being in the comfort of your house. '' He said sheepishly.
"I am happy to be here with you and not alone at home, honestly" you answered him, turning towards him, too.
His flawless skin was glowing golden in the feeble light of the candles and his eyes were the same shade as the chocolate cake that lied abandoned on the floor.
You lost yourself inside them.
He had the innate capacity of drawing you in, like a magnet.
You couldn't control yourself and, honestly, you didn't want to.
Before you knew it, his lips were pressing against yours, hot, soft and so gentle.
You felt your head spin as your heart melted from that simple kiss alone.
You were shocked when he pulled away and he must have seen it in your expression because he immediately started apologizing.
But you didn't hear a single word.
Your mind froze in the exact moment his lips parted from yours, depriving you from their warmth.
There was only one thought occupying your mind.
Him.
Without thinking, your hands snaked on the back of his neck and you dragged him towards you again, pressing your lips against his and successfully interrupting his ramblings.
You felt something under your fingertips and smiled in the kiss as you understood that the hair at the nape of his neck had been braided in a little rat tail.
He placed one of his hands on your hip and a little groan escaped his lips as his fingers came in contact with your skin, left bare by your shirt riding slightly upwards.
He squeezed your hip and you whimpered into his mouth, parting your lips and allowing him to deepen the kiss.
When his warm tongue caressed your bottom lip, something into your brain snapped.
Without further thinking you climbed on his lap and lost yourself in the kiss that turned every second more heated.
Both his hands came to rest against your cheeks and the sound of smacking lips filled the room making your head hazy.
He parted from you then and chuckled at the whine that left your mouth.
You couldn't tear your eyes away from his perfect plump lips, glistening in the golden light of the candle.
Both your breaths were ragged, your faces flushed but you couldn't care less.
You started kissing again and this time his hands started to roam your body, quickly slipping under your clothes.
As his hands slowly traced your back and moved to your front, inching towards your breasts, you stopped him biting his lip lightly. You grasped his rattail and tugged at it, making his head tilt back with a low groan.
That sound went straight to your core and you knew there was no going back.
You needed to have him.
"Fuck, love. I can't get enough of you" he confessed against your lips and you shivered at the low register of his voice.
He kissed you again and started fumbling with the hem of your shirt.
"May I take this off?" He asked gently and you nodded quickly.
He took off your shirt and you shivered, feeling exposed in front of him.
He gently grabbed your arms with which you tried to cover yourself and caressed them, taking them slowly away from your body to admire you with care.
You had a very simple bralette on, but he was looking at you like you were wearing the most expensive Italian lace lingerie he had ever seen.
You blushed but he was quick to comfort you.
"Has anybody ever told you how beautiful you are?" He asked and you bit your bottom lip before crashing your mouth against his, his tongue soothing your need.
Your hands gripped the hem of his tshirt and you pulled it upwards, admiring him as he took the hint and slipped it off with a smug smirk.
He was astonishing, the perfect tanned skin of his chest was glowing against the deep red velvet of the seat he was sitting on.
You started kissing his neck nibbling at his skin and reveling in the little whiny breathy sounds escaping his reddened lips.
His fingers traced your spine, making you shiver, and they slowly inched towards the button of your jeans.
His expression was tentative when he looked at you, silently asking your permission to remove them.
You nodded and he winked before slowly unbuttoning them.
With some effort and chuckles, you managed to take them off with his help.
When you sat back down in his lap, he was quick to place his hands on your bare thighs, kneading the skin gently.
You never felt like that before.
As you sat there almost naked, a deep hunger overcame you, observing him taking in every little detail of your body.
Suddenly his lips were pressing featherlight kisses along your shoulders, where the straps of your bra sat against your flushed skin.
One of them slid down your arm and you shivered.
He kissed you again and his lips started a path down your throat and down the center of your chest.
"Josh" you heard yourself whisper as his fingers traced the other strap making it fall, too.
"Tell me, love" he whispered back, leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck.
"I need you, please" you whispered down to him, like a secret, even though nobody was there to hear.
"You want me to take this off?" He asked, tracing the hem of your bralette with his pointer finger.
You nodded and he smiled sweetly giving you what you needed.
He took his sweet time admiring you then, making you blush as you sat almost entirely naked in front of him.
He looked in awe, his eyes sparkled as he looked at you.
Then, his lips encompassed one of your nipples while his hands grabbed your hips and pushed you further against him.
You groaned as you felt his erection press against your core.
You started grinding against him and his breathing picked up as his mouth kept spoiling your chest, nibbling and sucking.
After a while, though, his hands stilled your hips completely.
"Baby, you should really stop this, or soon it will be game over for me" he smiled, out of breath and a little embarrassed.
You smiled at him and blushed, apologizing.
His hands on your hips gently pushed you upwards making you raise on your knees, still on his lap.
You rested your hands on his shoulders as he started placing a trail of kisses down your tummy and towards your lower abdomen.
When he reached the hem of your panties, he looked upwards and you forgot how to breath.
His eyes were wide like a deer in the headlights, pupils blown out, making the soft shade of brown disappear completely. His breathing was ragged and you shivered as it hit the damp trail that his lips had left on your tummy.
What he did next made your soul leave your body.
A little smirk appeared onto his lips as he took the little bow that sat at the center of the hem of your panties between his teeth and tugged at it before letting it snap back against you.
You whimpered and he chuckled. Then his mouth moved downwards, placing gentle hot kisses on your still covered mound.
"You want me to kiss you here, don't you?" He whispered looking up at you for permission and caressing your slit through the fabric with gentle fingers.
"Please, Josh, yes" You begged him and you shivered as his thumbs hooked on the sides of your underwear, pulling it slowly down your legs.
He groaned at the sight of the wet fabric parting from you and you shivered as the cool air of the room hit your flushed skin, squeezing your eyes shut.
"Hey, love, look at me, please" he whispered and you lowered your gaze.
He kept a steady eye contact as he slid down the seat just enough for his mouth to reach your center comfortably.
Both your hands were gripping the velvet seat behind his head, but when his mouth was close enough to your core that you could feel his warm breath hitting your wet skin, one snaked into his curls, gripping them tightly.
That simple gesture spurred him on and in a second his mouth was on you, his tongue lapping up and down your slit, parting your lower lips and making your breath stop in your throat.
You were holding onto his hair so hard you were afraid that you were hurting him.
Little breathy sounds escaped his lips as he ate you out at the perfect pace.
You felt his fingers slowly reaching between your legs and you stiffled a moan.
"Baby, let me hear you, nobody is here, you are safe" he whispered onto your skin and next thing you knew his name was echoing in the room alongside thunders as you slowly started to unravel.
He slid a finger inside slowly and started stroking your clit with the tip of his tongue in quick circles.
You shivered.
You were close.
"Josh" you gasped as he added another finger and curled them harshly, making you almost double over him.
Before you knew it, you were coming undone on top of him, clawing at his shoulder and his curls.
He parted from you slowly and you bit your lip at the sight of his lips and chin glistening with your arousal and his puppy eyes looking up at you wide and in awe.
"You did so good" he said against your lips before kissing you deeply.
Your hands reached quickly for his belt and you unbuckled it.
He groaned as your fingers pressed against his crotch while you were trying to free him.
When he was finally free from the confines of the fabric, you gasped.
He was beautiful, girthy and veiny. It made your mouth water.
You started stroking him gently and you saw as his head lolled backwards again the seat, exposing his neck.
You licked a stripe up his throat and stopped at his ear, tugging with your teeth at the little silver hoop that adorned his lobe.
Suddenly he grasped your wrist.
"Baby, careful" he said out of breath and you understood.
He was close.
"I want you Josh" you whispered onto his lips as thunders kept booming.
"Inside" you punctuated and he nodded.
He placed you on the seat next to him and stood, getting rid of his pants and reaching in his back pocket.
He fished out a condom and sat back in the same spot.
You climbed again on top of him, shaking lightly with anticipation.
You watched enraptured as he rolled it on himself and groaned in need.
His hands reached for your hips and guided you up.
He nodded towards himself signaling to you to grab him and guide him where you needed him.
You did so with trembling fingers and his voice immediately came to soothe your nerves.
"Don't be nervous, baby, it's just me. Take your time" he whispered onto the skin of your sternum that covered in goosebumps.
You kissed him and, at the same time, slid his tip a few times along your slit.
When you were ready, you lined him up with you and started to sink down slowly.
Both your gazes were trained between the two of you as he slowly entered you.
By the time he was fully inside of you, you were biting your lips so hard you were sure you were drawing blood.
He felt amazing inside, the sting of the stretch took your breath away completely at first but it slowly dulled.
You both exhaled shaky breaths and he held you still to let you adjust to him.
"You feel amazing, Josh" you whispered onto his lips.
"You feel like heaven, love" he whispered back, clenching his jaw, trying so hard not to move.
You moved, then, sliding up and then back down and feeling him caress your walls beautifully.
You started riding him at a slow pace and watched mesmerized that every time you pushed back down on him, his brows knitted together.
His eyes were shut and his mouth was parted, letting out whispered whimpers of pleasure every time.
You kissed him, deep and slow like your rhythm, but soon it turned famished and your rhythm quickened, with the guidance of his strong hands on your hips.
Your legs were burning, the effort of keeping your body upright when he was eating you out paired with the one you were enduring now started to make you move a bit more erratically on top of him and he was quick to notice the slight change.
"Your legs are hurting, aren't they, baby?" He whispered into your ear hoarsely.
"Yeah, a bit," you said out of breath "it's been a lot since I last…" Your voice trailed off and your face flushed in embarrassment.
"Hey, it's fine don't worry about it," he whispered pressing his nose in your cheek "let me help you"
He stopped you and stood carefully, with you still on his lap, showing his strength.
You wrapped your legs around his hips and pressed your body completely against his.
You were both covered in sweat and glistening in the low light.
He started walking backwards and soon, you were sitting on the side of the stage with his body between your parted legs
He managed to move the both of you while staying inside of you. You were impressed.
You admired the toned muscles of his arms as he flexed them to keep you close to him.
Once your body relaxed back, he searched for your gaze and you nodded, giving him permission to move.
He took the lead and set a quick and deep pace, hitting places you didn't even know existed inside of you.
The first thrusts made you slip down, so you were laying on your back on the stage gripping the edge tightly and looking up at the ceiling.
But you missed the eye contact with him so you managed to bring yourself back up.
You kissed him again and your hands tangled in his hair, making him moan in your mouth.
Suddenly he grabbed your ankle and hooked your leg in the crook of his elbow, opening you up even more for him.
His next thrust shook your entire behind, making you clench harshly around him and you couldn't help but claw at his back.
"Are you close, baby? I can feel you squeezing me so tight" he whispered into your ear as he kept his pace, strong and steady.
You nodded, unable to speak and slid your hands down his sweaty back and on his ass, digging your nails in the supple muscle there.
He groaned and angled his hips so he could hit your sweet spot repeatedly, while simultaneously stroking your clit with his thumb that he had previous wetted with his tongue.
A thunder so loud that rattled the walls muffled your cries as you hit your climax, enveloping him in a vice-like grip.
He followed soon after, the sounds escaping his mouth were unbridled and heavenly and echoed into the room sinfully.
His body fell limp against you, his damp forehead pressed to your shoulder as he tried to calm down his heavy breathing.
You tried to do the same, feeling his hands caressing your back gently.
He slowly pulled out of you and kissed you sweetly.
When your eyes met the both of you were still panting, with flushed cheeks and disheveled hair, but you couldn't hold back a little embarassed giggle at how the night had escalated.
"Thank God there is no one in here or that would have been a hell of a 18+ show" he whispered playfully into your ear and you cackled loudly.
He helped you get down from the stage and grabbed some of the tissues you had brought for the cake to clean you up gently.
Then he grabbed your clothes from the seat and handed them to you.
"Don't run away, I'll be right back" he said and walked towards the bathroom with his clothes in his hands.
He came back with other clothes on, a white tshirt and black jeans and brought you a clean tshirt too, so if you wanted to change.
It was black, with the cinema logo in bold red lettering and it reached you mid-thigh, like a perfect sleep tshirt.
You sat back in your respective seats and ate some more cake, chatting about your favorite movies.
After a while, you started yawning, the tiredness of the day was starting to making itself known.
He looked tired too, but the storm outside wasn't subsiding in the slightest, so you were stuck there with the lights still out.
Then you saw it.
The deep red velvet of the curtains folded on one of the seats.
He noticed your gaze and chuckled.
"We had the same idea, love" he said and stood helping you, unfolding the fabric and placing it on the floor.
Quickly you had set up a makeshift bed in the middle of the cinema room.
You laid down feeling extremely awkward but giddy to be there with him.
The velvet felt extremely soft against your skin end despite it being old, it was clean.
As you laid down, his arms brought you closer to him. You could feel his breathing, steady and calm on your neck and soon you were drifting off, listening to the wind whistling outside.
In the morning you woke up in his arms. You were a bit sore due to sleeping on the floor and other activities but you felt extremely at ease with him close to you.
He looked so soft, with sleepy eyes and his usual contagious grin on his lips.
It was hard to part from him but you had to go to work so you had to leave him there.
"Have a good day, love" he said in a hot whisper against your neck and you forcefully parted from him, knowing that if you didn't, you would end up tangled in the curtains with him, again.
But at work you couldn't focus, your mind kept drifting off to him.
And you spent the entire week thinking about him.
On Saturday you went to the cinema as always, they were showing "The Shining".
His smile at the register was very flirty and warm.
The evening went on as usual, but when the movie was almost over, you felt someone touching your elbow in the dark.
It was him.
He motioned for you to follow him and you ended up in the same showing room as last time.
Before you knew it you were pressed against the wall by his body, his lips hot on your neck and his hands sneaking around your body.
"Did you miss me, baby?" He said unbuttoning your jeans and sinking down on his knees.
"God, you don't even know how much" you whispered back, biting your bottom lip and sinking both your hands into his hair.
______________________________
Taglist: @gvfpal @sammyslappers @spark-my-nature @highladyofasgard @sparrowofthedawnsworld @jessicafg03 @doodle417 @hellowgoodbye @ejoygvf @jaketlover @jakekiszkasbabymama @objectsinspvce @indigostreakmorgan @witchofendora @myleftsock @gretavanshmeat @gretasfallingsky @giraffehippy @jennasometimesreads
#greta van fleet#greta van fic#gvf fic#greta van smut#fanfic#josh gvf#josh kiszka#josh kiszka smut#josh kiszka x reader
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𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐠
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: when being thrust back into society and the public eye after being isolated for so long... there could be no way that you blow it, right? you, of all people, would never betray the love of your life.
𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: unnamed yandere x reader, i had chrollo in mind but it doesn't matter. sfw! just a short drabble to get back into the swing of things!
“Come on, now.”
His hand was extended, fingers twitching slightly as he beckoned you to his side. You could see this in your periphery and almost feel his culminating impatience.
The cashier’s grin was so radiant; so full of life. Perhaps it was all just for show, the obligatory kindness, similar to her sugary, high-pitched tone of voice as she wished you a good day. Maybe she hated her job, though. How could you know what was really going on in her mind? Perhaps she despised working in a quaint grocery store that must have had more grumpy customers than kind on a regular basis; that tended to be the case in small towns like this. You wished that she knew what was really going on in your mind.
“Y/N.”
His tone was firm.
Her smile widened, eyes squinting a little as her cheeks pushed up against them; her expression was so warm.
Then her smile faltered for a moment, her irises becoming a little more visible now as she mirrored the face you had been making throughout this entire interaction. You had been so busy analyzing how cheerful she seemed, you hadn’t even noticed that her initial smile was also one she gave the first and only time she looked at you since walking through her register queue.
Her eyes opened up large, her eyebrows furrowed inward until her now paling skin wrinkled in the middle; she had gone from upbeat to concerned and borderline terrified within seconds, maybe even less.
Just like you.
“Y/N, let’s go.”
“Please.”
You hadn’t actually spoken–your voice was gone. It wasn’t even really there to begin with, though. Your throat had gone dry as soon as you entered the public space, forced to stay hand in hand with your captor, so shocked that he had finally allowed you to reemerge into society so soon. Well, maybe not reemerge, but at least you were able to walk around somewhere other than the same little room that became your residence for the last few months. Or maybe… years? How long has it been now?
Please is what your expression would have said if it could, and how you wished it could. For now, all you were able to do was nearly push your eyes out of their sockets in a silent, desperate plea for rescue. Would the cashier understand? Had you stared at her in enough of an uncanny way to unnerve her soul, in the deepest pit of it; to communicate that you were not just some happy camper who was here with your boyfriend on a quick grocery stock-up, then maybe a cute little coffee run?
She glanced between you and your captor–who you were too petrified to face since you knew now that you had been staring away from him for a little too long, too hyper-focused on communicating speechlessly with the once luminant woman who now looked as reduced by fear as you did.
Cold fingers wrapped around your wrist.
Eyes shifted away.
“Have a good day!” she repeated her previous words that you had momentarily forgotten; momentarily, had they not been a complete repeat of the last thing you heard her say. As if her speech had been cut, copied, and pasted.
Her body turned away. You had been turned away.
Her figure grew smaller, more distant as you were pulled along then, the grip on your wrist slid up to clutch your forearm and keep you as close as possible while your torso brushed against his with every near-trip of a step that you were forced to take.
“What a shame, I misread you Y/N. We’ll try another outing again in a few months.”
The subtly condescending mention of such an extended range of time between now and the next occasion where you were permitted to breathe fresh air could have made you cry if your gaze wasn’t still fixed behind your back; cramping your neck and shoulder, your mind still utterly convinced that keeping another person in your viewpoint would surely get them to notice you and understand your situation just by looking. But as new twists and turns through the store’s exit and into the parking lot drew you further away from civilization; returned you to the vehicle that you knew would chauffeur you back to the makeshift prison you’d been forced to call home–that small flame of hope in your thoughts began to dim into nothing.
The irritable slam of the car’s back door shutting you out managed to quell that flame instantaneously.
#✧meyou#✧musinghxhmasterlist#chrollo#yandere chrollo#chrollo x reader#chrollo lucilfer x reader#chrollo lucilfer#phantom troupe#hxh#hxh x reader#hunter x hunter#hxh chrollo#hunter x hunter x reader#chrollo x y/n#chrollo x you#yandere x reader#yandere boyfriend#yandere#sukuna#ryomen sukuna#sukuna ryomen#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#sukuna x y/n#sukuna x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jjk x you#sukuna x you#jujutsu kaisen ryomen
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The Envelope (Part 2) (NSFW)
Dazai x Reader
1261 words
Cold morning. A tentative blue threaded with pale clouds. Mist had gathered in the corners of the windows. The double doors remained closed for now; you still had time to unload the gleaming cups and saucers from the dishwasher. Your manager - Uzumaki’s renowned, veteran barista - passed by the counter. His mouth was pulled to the side as though he was suppressing an uncomfortable smile.
“I, ah… think someone is trying to call you.”
With a wave of his hand he gestured to the lit smartphone which lay, singing idly to itself, nestled between a tray of glasses and the petty cash tin. A leaden weight had settled in the pit of your stomach. You didn’t need to check to know who it was.
As you continued stacking the cups within a wall-mounted cupboard the phone’s melody ceased, only to be followed by the sound of a chime. One insistent ping followed another; a flurry of notifications without pause. With a pained sigh, you retrieved your phone. Refusing to scroll back and read the long reel of previous messages, your eyes settled on the most recent.
Not that I want you to rush back of course! It’s only a small fire after all.
There came the rapid tap of your thumbs in reply.
I told you this morning that I’m not coming back until after my shift.
Dropping the device down with a thud, you continued to put cups, glasses and cutlery away, all the while ignoring the series of shrill sounds which rang impatiently from your phone.
“Sounds like someone wants to talk to you,” the café owner observed, unlatching the double doors and releasing a flood of warm light into the long room. Rather than answer, you pretended to search for something in the dishwasher’s cutlery basket.
“Perhaps you ought to answer him?”
“What makes you think it’s a him?” you countered, looking up at just the wrong moment. The café manager’s smile was all-knowing. He was a people watcher; an inadvertent gatherer of secrets. He had held his position with quiet pride for many years, unobtrusively pouring coffee as the lives of his customers played out around him.
Lifting a small bag of sugar cubes, you began to refill the ceramic containers on the tables.
“...in any case, if you don’t answer, he might come up here.”
Hesitating, sugar tongs still in hand, you managed a derisive snort. It did not take long for your false bravado to cower upon itself. Thinking better of it, you stalked back to the counter to seize your phone.
I won’t be back til 6. Grab a shower or a coffee or some fresh bandages if you have indeed set fire to yourself - whatever you need, but don’t wait for me to get back. Spare key in the teapot.
The device had hardly touched the surface when its screen glowed in response.
Good to know there’s another spare. I took the key you hid in the sconce. Think I’ll hang onto it ;)
You do that. Think I’ll have the locks changed.
Ah! You’re driving me insane! <3
“Miss?”
“Coming!” you called, relieved by the distraction. A steady queue of customers had formed from the cash register, snaking out into the hallway beyond. Stifling a yawn, you poured coffee into paper cups, adding a dash of milk here; a shot of syrup there. Plastic lids were fastened on in succession. You stretched your arms and arched your aching back. Names were penned on cardboard. The morning rush was always this busy, only to be followed by… silence. There was the respite after the madness. The calm before the storm. Only a visit from your rather irregular regulars could break up the monotony now. The Armed Detectives from the fourth floor, with their wild antics and raucous laughter… You ground your teeth. Not that you were thinking about him though. Not that you were, even now, considering checking your phone for his messages. Too often you had witnessed those poor souls who fell for his superficial charms. They would weep, helpless, struggling to comprehend the reason for his sudden absence. How ignorant they were, never knowing he had already moved on to his next person of interest…
Even as you stood, reasoning so calmly with yourself, your hand was inciting a mutiny against your mind and body. You reached for your phone again.
Ditch work. Tell the boss you have a headache and need to stay in bed ;)
I think he might see through that brilliant scheme?
Cruel mistress! Don’t make me beg :(
This is on you. I’m not making you do anything.
Three little dots danced, taunting, as he crafted his reply. You set the device to one side each time the café owner strode past. It was more than your job’s worth to be caught sending messages to one of your regular customers.
As the manager stooped to clear one of the tables, your phone buzzed irritably.
Don’t pretend. And for the record, I hate being made to wait.
Wait for what exactly? You smiled; it wasn’t like you to behave so coyly but, somehow, his persistence had reeled you in like a spider’s silk.
Seriously? Don’t forget that I’d been trapped behind bars for WEEKS. You know I couldn’t stop thinking about you in there. I thought last night was all I needed but holy fuck, I already miss your pussy…
The weight in your stomach shifted. Something sparked, like flint on stone.
It’s 9:28 am! We’ve only just opened.
Well what time does your pussy open? Cause I’m
Heat flooded your cheeks. You felt your pulse beating in your throat; blood roared thunderously in your ears. You looked up - another poorly-timed gesture - to witness Ranpo glance away thoughtfully, his finger tapping his chin. The detective who saw through everything.
You dropped your phone with a clatter.
“I thought the temperature was mild today,” he observed dryly, such was his way of small talk. “Is it hot in here?”
“Yes,” you answered automatically, placing your phone face down before you could read the rest of Dazai’s message. Given the brief glimpse of the words hard scream beg and gag you could only assume it contained some tangible threats. You dusted down your black skirt self-consciously and reached to tighten the fastening in your hair, remembering that you had been forced to wear it loose today. Only its dark curtain, as it swung about the white frill of your collar, could hide the blemishes he had left upon your skin the night before. Incriminating marks which had branded you as his.
“Sorry, I uh- Let me pass you a menu-”
“Sweet curry,” Ranpo declared without pause. “And, not that it’s any of my business, but Dazai thrives on dysfunction. Nothing bores him more than having his own schemes go smoothly. I wouldn’t be so quick to give him the replies he wants.”
You gaped in astonishment. “That’s not- that’s-”
“One doesn’t need ultra deduction to read it in your distracted demeanour; the way you’re repeatedly picking your phone up, cursing to yourself… we’ve seen it all before. It’s the Dazai effect. Not to mention the circles under your eyes, your constant yawning…”
“Plus those hickeys speak for themselves.” Yosano had appeared behind him. “Pour us both a coffee - you look like you need it.”
Ruefully brushing your hair down against your neck, you turned away, poured out two cups and grabbed a blue Ramune from the fridge. What had ever made you think that sleeping with Osamu Dazai would have gone unnoticed by a group of professional detectives?
Part 1 (tw)
#part 2!#dazai osamu#dazai x reader#dazai x you#dazai x y/n#dazai x fem!reader#text replies#bungou stray dogs#bsd#n.sfw#my writing
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Hey, neighbor
Part one
(next chapter here)
Inheriting your grandmothers 2 story house was bittersweet. On the one hand, it was nice to finally move out of your shitty apartment and into a real home. On the other hand, the weight of all the memories the house held was upsetting. All the holidays with family members that are no longer alive, all the delicious food your grandmother made, and all the laughs and love; it was almost suffocating. But this is what she wanted, to give you this house after she died, so you could continue making memories in this house.
A month after the funeral, you arrive at her…your house with all your belongings that fit into 2 suitcases and your cat, Mewsy. After settling in and putting your little touches where you could for the past week, you decide to venture into the backyard to get some fresh air and enjoy the sun. Grabbing a book and a towel, you head out the backdoor, Mewsy following close on your heels.
You hear the sound of your neighbor in his garage, tools clanking, a male voice, and a younger, childlike voice. You remember your grandmother talking about her neighbor. Toji? Was that his name? She would tell you about oh, the neighbor brought over his son to trick or treat. Such a sweet child. Or My neighbor came and helped fix my lights outside that went out. He’s such a fine gentleman. You’d only seen him once from afar the last few times you visited. All you could remember was tall, buff, and intimidatingly hot. So there was NO chance you would go over and introduce yourself.
You lay on your stomach in the middafternoon sun, stretching your legs behind you as it warms your legs. Mewsy settles up beside you, watching the birds in the trees while you get lost in your book.
“Is that your kitty??” a little voice says from a few feet away, making you jump. You see a little boy, no more than 5 squatting down to look at mewsy better. His jet black hair was mussed and pointing in every direction.
“Yeah, this is mewsy,” you say as Mewsy perks up, curious of the little boy.
“Can i—”
“Megs!” a voice thunders from the backyard of your neighbors. “Leave her alone bud.” Toji walks out from the garage wiping his hands on a towel before slinging it over his shoulder. His jeans are ripped and covered in oil stains, his hair much like his sons is messy. He pushes pieces that are hanging over his forehead out of the way revealing icy blue eyes that could almost be silver.
Your heart kicks up as he stalks towards his son.
“I was jus’ gonna ask if i can pet it,” his son says.
Toji shakes his head, laughing, before saying to you, “Sorry about that. Megumi is both nosey and a flirt.”
You giggle, hoping the blush isn’t apparent on your cheeks. “It's fine, he can pet her if he wants. She’s friendly.”
As if on queue, Mewsy approaches Megumi eager for the boy's attention. Rolling over on her side and purring. “Turns out Mewsy is also incredibly nosey and a shameless flirt,” you say.
“She’s so soft, daddy.” Megumi says, motioning for Toji with his small hand. “Pet her too daddy.”
“You know I’m not much of a cat person. Those things are evil, don’t let that purring fool you,” he teases, giving you a wink that goes directly to your heart.
You try to play it cool, not wanting him to see how nervous he’s making you. “Sounds like someone is scared of cats.” Megumi erupts in a fit of giggles at that. “Daddy are you scared?”
“No! I’m not scared.” Toji says confidently before reaching toward Mewsy to pet her. She playfully swats at his hand. “See? Evil!” You and Megumi laugh at him, mewsy going back to rolling around for megumis pets. “Ok, son. You’ve made your old man look weak in front of the new neighbor. Go wash up for dinner.”
Megumi stands, waving toward the cat as he walks back to his house, “bye Mewsey.”
Toji stays behind, though. “I’m sorry about that. He sees an animal and doesn’t remember manners.”
“It’s ok, he's precious. And she likes the attention,” you reply.
“You all moved in?” he asks, gesturing towards your house.
“Yeah pretty much. All the furniture is still good so I didn’t have to worry about getting a bed or a couch,” you say. “Just feels weird sometimes. Like I still just see it as ‘my grandmother's house’ instead of my house.”
“I’d say so. I’m sorry by the way. She was a wonderful woman. Talked about you a lot. Made a mean mac and cheese casserole mmm–mmm,” he says warmly, patting his stomach.
“She loved cooking. She mentioned you and your son a lot. Thank you for helping her some. I feel guilty I wasn’t close enough to come by more.” you utter.
“Ah, that’s life,” he says standing from where he’d been squatting on the ground. “Well, I gotta go feed the little minion.”
“It was nice to meet you,” you stand as well.
“It was good to finally meet you too,” he says, pointing at Mewsy. “Even you, too, little devil.”
You both laugh as she precedes to roll around on her back, the face of innocence.
“If you ever need anything let me know ok?” he offers as he begins to walk back toward his house.
“Thank you, “ you stammer, picking up Mewsy to keep her from following Toji. He saunters to the porch, before entering his house he turns around with a smirk, A SMIRK.
“Don't be a stranger”
Part 2
A/n: let me know what you think, I want to make this a series
#toji fushiguro#jjk toji#fushiguro toji#toji x reader#toji x you#toji fluff#dilf toji#toji headcanons#toji smut#toji zenin#jjk fanfic#jujustu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen toji#toji drabbles#toji reader#toji jjk fluff#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen fluff#toji x y/n#daddy toji#megumi fushiguro
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i started writing this in my drafts weeks ago but didn't continue much farther than the first sentence - probably put it down to do something else and then passed out lmao. anyway after scrolling past last night wanted to continue it but can't be effed to scroll through my drafts rn (i save everything to my drafts to tag and queue later and my drafts ar like over 250+ rn)
anyway percy who becomes obsessed with finding this grim reaper he saw the night his mom killed his step-dad. he was an abusive asshole and percy helped his mom stage the scene to look like someone gabe owed money to came knocking. they don't have much in terms of expensive shit - just the TV and playstation. it's an old old model that one of percy's classmates was going to throw out as he wasn't into the games he had with it anymore and was getting the latest version for christmas.
it was nice that he gave it to percy with only a fraction of the cost in hand and a promise to give him the rest over time. percy paid him off every monday. it took sally weeks to pay it off, percy chipping in by donating cans and glass bottles he found lying around. the games were old and a little childish, but it was the only entertainment percy had aside from sally's old and crappy laptop that gabe hogged with online poker games.
so it sucked to watch sally dump it into an empty trash bag. it's small, she'd said. the tv would be too big to carry out without causing suspicion, even in mind-your-business new york city, but the playstation, her shitty laptop, and gabe's cell and wallet were things that could be dumped into a bag with no one giving a second look. percy crawls out the fire-escape grateful their shitty apartment building doesn't have cameras. he has to use a couple boxes to really rise himself enough to stuff the bag under the other bags. sally walks out the front door and they go have a late dinner at a nearby cafe.
then go home an hour later and scream in surprise at gabe's dead body in the bedroom, still warm from the heater in the corner boiling up the room that sally promptly unplugs.
percy doesn't think much about WHY his mom was so specific about how to clean his blood off the kitchen floor, about how to stage the scene, about moving gabe's body into the bedroom, about pulling him like he had been then letting him fall flat. heating up the room to keep him warm and fresh, while keeping the window cracked open so the heat doesn't stay by the time the police arrive.
he writes it away as her being a reader, a writer. maybe murder mysteries had been on her mind lately. maybe she watched too many cop shows. maybe she'd thought about this so many times she perfected it. his mom was not a repeat killer. gabe was her first time. her only time. and it was fine.
he sucked.
it's sitting in the chair, feigning distress but not too much, talking to a cop about the scene while he stares off into the air when he sees him. the boy is young, dark-haired and pale-skinned. he's startled by the presence, cutting off in his explanation about how people often came banging on the door for money gabe owed them. how he kept his poker winnings in the now open and empty safe in the bedroom. he wants to draw attention to the boy, but no one else seems to notice him.
he watches idly as gabe is carried out the front door in a body bag. then disappears towards the bedroom.
percy stands and mutters something about wanting to see his mom. the cop guides him to where she's sat on the bed crying thick tears. the boy is there. no one else cares that he's there. the boy reaches out and gabe's body shimmers into view. he's a visage of how he'd looked right before he died - the wide-eyed shock, tensing of his shoulders, mouth open wide because he'd been shouting at percy, threatening him.
he didn't realize how much like his mom he was until gabe fell flat with a knife sticking out of his throat. his mom standing behind him breathing hard. she'd squatted beside his head, pulled out the knife. stared at it. then stabbed stabbed stabbed until gabe's chokes turned to wispy gasps and his wispy gasps disappeared.
"four stab marks," his mom had said. "hopefully that won't look like overkill. but make sure to mention how many times people came screaming at the door just in case."
gabe's white glowing form dissipates into a ball in the boy's hands. he pulls out a baggie from his shoulder bag, then dumps gabe into it with a grimace.
he does suck, percy thinks. be annoyed.
the boy steps away. his eyes catch percy's. percy's arm tightens around his mom's shoulders as he looks into the endless void that is the other boy's eyes. flashes of his own death catch his mind. lying flat on the ground, weakly asking for help, and a dark-skinned man with black angel wings standing above him whispering, i'm sorry, but it's time to go.
then the boy looks away and disappears into a shadow.
grover believes him when he tells him about it. that's the thing percy loves about grover. the mystical and paranormal are easily believed. grover's parents are hippie-like green witches. percy doesn't really get it but has surmised from grover and visiting their house it means they really, really like plants.
"grim reaper," grover calls him. "or a psychopomp. collectors of the dead."
he lists a bunch of names from various cultures until percy cuts him off. "are any young boys?"
grover shrugs. "i mean life is bigger than what the stories tell. there's more people, more humanity. atheists even. where do they go? who collects them? there's definitely more gods and spirits than we think these days. it's not like they all stopped fucking just because the stories ended. there are definitely more gods than we think."
percy doesn't know what to do with that. grover asks him a lot of questions about the boy. but it's hard to answer them. they can't find a culture he could belong to, a way to summon someone without a name. the kid was young, dressed normal in black clothes with a normal black messenger bag. there were no signs of culture, religion, belonging.
he could've blended into a primary school playground easily.
"maybe you need to kill someone," annabeth suggests. the conversation arises a year or so after they first met and befriended her - a new addition halfway through the school year, a few months after gabe's unfortunate death. following a CPS check, her biological mother decided to take charge of her. annabeth spent a lot of time grumbling about her family in california while also missing california ("it's familiar, new york is not, i don't miss my step-mom, i miss the comfort of routine") and bitching about her bio mom's obsession with her grades and extracurriculars.
it takes some campaigning but the three of them manage to create an afterschool club in the new school year for her to find some time to chill and relax and get school work done. it took a lot longer to convince her mom to let her join their "magics and mystics club" - some nonsense about how it'll make her stand-out in college applications.
percy highly doubts any college is looking too closely at middle school extracurriculars, but what does he know? he's either lasting until graduation with grover and annabeth, or getting his GED and dropping out to immediately book it to the first basic entry-level job he can find. school already sucks ass, but his barely medicated ADHD and severely dyslexic ass already twaddles the line of a C average. What's the use of hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt that's only growing frantically from interest and a degree he barely achieved with the lowest grades required to shake the hand of someone he's never interacted with?
annabeth spends most of her time in the club doing her homework, while percy gets reeducated on grover's witchy stuff. their club advisor is the drama teacher who only checked in at the beginning of that first meeting then dipped for the drama club. grover's putting together a presentation on the history of mysticism while percy glues pictures to poster board. annabeth will present their stuff. the three of them doubt anyone will care if they did anything productive with their club, but annabeth's mom will so they do their best to make it fancy as fuck.
she already doesn't like either of them.
in the spare times that annabeth isn't doing homework or studying for another class, they talk about the spiritual and paranormal, magic and whatnot. so percy mentions his experience with the reaper.
and annabeth's first suggestion is murder. it's hilarious. grover knows the truth but annabeth only knows the lie. percy makes a note of it in his head. maybe he'll hint around the truth. they're close, but there's still time needed between the two of them. the worst she's told him is about the spiders in her bedroom. but nothing about what kickstarted a CPS investigation and her subsequent arrival into his life.
"maybe he's a murder reaper," she says. she's intellectual, doesn't believe in the mystic magic stuff but tolerates it for grover. "so he only comes around when there's been a murder."
"i don't think reapers are split up by types of death," grover argues. "and even if they were, why would a little kid be sent to deal with murders?"
annabeth crosses her arms. "maybe he's not a kid. maybe he just chooses to look like that."
they get into a weird half-argument, half-civil discussion. to her credit, annabeth doesn't bring science into it. they both descend to the computers and the books grover brought in from his house to search through to prove whatever point they've landed on.
percy is too busy cutting out paper to glue to poster board. and thinking about the murder aspect. he doubts that murder matters. he's pretty sure grover's right, but he likes keeping his balls so he doesn't say. annabeth is probably right too. magical beings are always capable of changing form. maybe little kid is just easy. who would be afraid of going somewhere with a little kid. or a dog.
but death is needed to see the reaper again. percy doesn't live with anyone dying. and he's too young to volunteer at the hospital. besides death is random isn't it? everyone was convinced that their classmate who got diagnosed with stage four cancer was going to die but she returned a year and a half later missing a leg but recovering. and the gym teacher who ran marathons and was known for his obsessively healthy eating habits died of a heart attack over the summer.
and even if he hovered around people on the verge of death, it didn't mean he was going to be there when they died.
but murder? definitely. he'd be right there because it would be his fault.
at that, he dashes the thought away. murder is wrong. he can't kill people just to see a reaper he saw but never spoke to. it's not like he has any questions about his death. he'll die when he dies. dying isn't scary to him. what's scary is dying before his mom and leaving her childless and mourning. but death itself? he's unafraid.
but inside burns a deep need to see the reaper again. not even to talk to him. just to lay his eyes on that night sky hair and porcelain skin. then he'd be satisfied and the need would go away.
maybe.
probably.
hopefully.
it's on his sixteenth birthday that he sees another reaper. it's not the boy he's looking for. he's disappointed. he shouldn't be. he should be more concerned with the dead man lying in front of him.
the letter opener is sticking out just below luke's left armpit. it hadn't killed him. it was too delicate for that, and the spot wasn't vital enough. but it had shocked him enough for annabeth to shove him away in disgust. he fell back, tripping over annabeth's shoes, and smashed into the glass coffee table.
"shit," annabeth breathes. she doesn't notice the reaper - a slender arabic man appear from the darkness and pull luke's soul of his chest with thin hands. he pushes his hands together and the soul vanishes. then he turns into a dog, or... something like a dog, and disappears back into the shadows.
it's take a few minutes to figure out how to stage the scene. they get rid of the letter opener and shove a piece of broken glass into the spot. this time he doesn't escape through the window. just walks out of the room, calm and detached, and sits in his mom's car. when the police arrive, annabeth, crying thick tears, tells them that he had fallen over while she was getting her things ready after percy came to pick her up.
it's not technically a lie. the police wish him a happy birthday when he says he came by to pick annabeth up from her study session because they were going to do laser tag for his birthday that afternoon. when they don't arrest him in the weeks that follow, he relaxes. and considers his options. he googles arab dogs which is an odd search term but brings up jackals and anubis. cool, he thinks. he tells them both about it afterwards. despite the death, grover is excited. annabeth is less impressed.
"i would've noticed, i was there too," she huffs.
"maybe they don't like you because you're a nonbeliever," grover fires back.
is percy a believer? he's not sure. he knows that what he sees is real. if he was suffering from delusions or hallucinations, surely he'd be seeing them a lot more than twice over the course of four years.
"what if i asked them?" he suggests. "to make themselves visible to you?"
"planning on being around another newly dead guy soon?" annabeth asks with a laugh. grover snorts. but percy remains silent and serious so their amusement shifts to concern
grover leans in close. "percy-"
"just bad people," he cuts in with a solemn whisper.
"you can't be judge, jury and executioner," annabeth hisses. "what you think is bad is not always universal? think about jim crow laws or slavery-"
"annabeth," he cuts in before she can go on an historical tangent. "i was hoping you'd help actually."
it doesn't take long for her to click together what he wants out of her. she glares at him. "percy," she snarls through clenched teeth. "i'm not swishing my ass to entice seedy men for you to murder so you can maybe have a hallucination to process death."
"okay, okay." conceding, he raises his hands. "it was dumb, i'm sorry. i just... really wanna see this kid again. sorry."
annabeth watches him carefully the rest of the day. grover doesn't. he knows what percy is, even if he doesn't agree. so it's not too surprising to start seeing grover scrolling through the newspaper on his phone. he startles every time percy spooks him when he's reading. then laughs it off, swats at percy, and keeps reading. it's the obituaries that percy sees the most, but sometimes articles about a death.
whatever he's looking for, some kind of proof it's percy, he must not find because he doesn't say anything. but it's grover, percy's soulmate. so he's sure the slow side-eye that he gets some mornings are a knowing side-eye.
percy doesn't look at the newspapers. if he's gonna get caught, he'd rather be surprised about it other than worrying and getting sloppy.
it's hard to find truly shitty people from first glance. he doesn't have the patience to observe. just slight insomnia that keeps him up until one in the morning prowling the streets. he hovers around in his old neighborhood, where the cameras are for show and shitty people live. it's still difficult. he doesn't want to go around hurting innocent people. less so because he cares, but more because it would disappoint grover and annabeth and his mom. he can't disappoint them.
he does see reapers, including the one who will one day take him, but never the boy. percy tries to envision him older, but even then none of them match. he does try to speak to them, but they ignore him. he wonders if it's some kind of weird curse. he can see them but they can't. sometimes the ignorance seems intentional, but he can't really tell so other than a few short sentences that always go ignored, he gives up and heads home.
some days he wakes up and is certain the police will come for him. but they never do and so he gives it a few days or a couple weeks and head back out again. they're opportunity kills. random and haphazard. he keeps mittens on, which looks normal in the fall and winter, but sketchy over the summer. to counteract his want to see that reaper, he signs up to be a counselor for a summer camp. grover joins him. annabeth is dragged off to university summer classes by her mom. her emails are miserable. percy wonders aloud to grover if annabeth would be happier if her mom was dead. grover eyes him flatly and says he doubts it.
percy gets assigned to the little kids who tell him all kinds of family secrets. some are funny. some are not.
it's not that hard to get into the camp's directory and write down in poor handwriting and with tons of struggle the names and addresses of these secrets. it's not a lot, which is great. but it's more than it should be and come summer's end, he has his start for the fall.
it's clear grover knows what percy's planning. he was there after all when a little secret got whispered too loudly. but all he says is, "sometimes kids get things wrong." the newspaper on his phone comes back into play after summer ends. but he still says nothing, even when glances at percy from the corner of his eyes.
it's two years of scattered kills before he sees him again. the kid is older now. he looks about fourteen, maybe fifteen. but percy knows it's him. he's the only one who makes eye contact. this time percy doesn't see his death. but he sees the endless void.
purgatory, he thinks, before he blurts out, "i've been looking for you." the teen tilts his head and smiles, small, gentle. the sight of it slams hard into percy's ribcage and sinks messy into his heart. "what's your name?"
"what's yours?" the teen fires back, turning away from percy and collecting the pulsing orb into a little baggie like before. his voice is enchanting, smooth and crystalline. there's an edge of an italian accent in it.
"percy," he says without hesitation. "jackon. percy jackson." he shakes his head. "perseus, actually, but everyone calls me percy."
the teen laughs gently. the sound is haunting. somewhere in percy's subconscious he knows the sound should scare him. but instead he just craves it more. "well, perseus jackson, my name is nico."
nico, percy thinks. in his head, the name is surrounded by hearts like a schoolgirl writing out the name of their crush in a movie. "that's really pretty," he says aloud. mentally he slaps himself. that's really pretty? that's stupid.
but nico just laughs again. "thank you." he steps over the dead body and touches percy's face. "perseus was a quite the soul when he was collected." his fingertip ghosts down percy's cheek, leaving light phantom tingles behind. "will you be?"
then he dissipates into shadows, leaving percy with a heavy craving for his ghostly touch and hauntingly enchanted voice.
#percico#percy jackson#nico di angelo#annabeth chase#grover underwoood#happy talks pjo#my writing#my fanfic#maybe i'll add more to this later#i was thinking about adding jason to it but i wanna stick w/ percico and i don't wanna accidentally talk myself in perjasico#also how the fuck do i keep starting posts w/ the intention of it being a short ramble of thoughts and then turn it into a thing
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Nine Days in Hell
Chapter 1: An Ignored Invitation
Raphael x afab!Tav
Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3
Rating: R
Word count: 1.5 k
Cw: masturbation, second-person perspective
Summary: Haarlep's frequent use of your form leaves you pent-up and frustrated, but Raphael offers a solution
AN: I had my period and was out of my mind horny. Enjoy
You woke up with a start. The dim light from the window barely illuminated your room but it was enough to check for anything out of the ordinary. Your armour and clothing was still where you had left it the evening prior, your weapons on the racks gleamed and you were alone. Nothing was amiss, no threat in sight. When your sleepy mind caught up with your body you felt what had woken you up. Your thighs were damp and your core throbbed with desire. But it wasn’t your arousal you were feeling.
You sighed deeply willing down the dull arch, shoving it into a corner of your mind as best as you could, and crawled out of bed. The cool water in the basin refreshed your spirits enough to start this day. You pulled the curtain on the window back and to in the view over the lower city of Baldur's Gate. It had been six months since the defeat of the Elderbrain and the city was still not what it had been before. Something you had done shortly before was the cause for your uneasy nights. You had broken into the devil Raphael’s home, the House of Hope, and beat him within an inch of his life to steal the Orphic Hammer. To get the hammer, however, you had also made the bad choice and the consequences were still haunting you. You had shared the bed with Raphael’s personal Incubus Haarlep to get information. That’s what you told yourself, anyway. You should have simply beaten that Incubus to death, curse your soft heart.
You had places to be today so you packed some amour, fresh clothes and a towel. The cold air bit into the exposed skin of your face but you welcomed the distraction from the sticky, warm desire that lingered in your body.
The bathhouse was one of the oldest buildings in the city but well maintained. Even at this early hour, some people already made their way to the front door, and you joined the queue at the front desk. The air was warm and wet inside the building, and you shrugged your coat off.
"Good Morning, 3 gold please," said the halfling behind the front desk. He wore a robe that was nothing more than an elaborately wrapped piece of clothing. His right breast was exposed and you hurried to pay up because you could feel your overstimulated body react to how firm his chest looked.
"Have a relaxing time."
He said with a bright smile, and you fled. For a moment, you closed your eyes, thinking: "Please get it together. You can't think about bedding everyone -"
You bumped into someone and heard a shriek.
"You?!" a familiar voice thundered. "Do you not have eyes?"
"Yes, I have eyes, Lord Cummings." you confirmed under the glares of his entourage. "I will make sure to pay attention to the smell of sewage next time."
Lord Cummings was a thin, old hawkish looking man and if it had been in your power you would have chosen anyone else but him to run into. He had high standing with the elite of the city and despite having been one of the biggest supporters of Gortash, he had mysteriously never faced any consequences for it. He was petty and slippery, in a word you hated him.
Red spots blotched his face, but he held his tongue.
"I will see you at the Lord's meeting, peasant."
He nodded to his escort and they strodded off to the dressing rooms.
You left your clothes in the dressing room, grabbed the towel eager to cleanse yourself and forget everything. The room opened into the entrance hall where corridors lead to the central pool but also to the smaller more secluded spots. The bathhouse was a place where many deals were made because its secluded smaller pool rooms offered privacy and the house was considered a neutral space, not belonging to any one organization. That day you hoped for some quiet alone time in the relaxing chambers submerged in the clean waves.
You passed the fountain and made your way down a side corridor checking the rooms for an empty one. The walls transitioned from bricks to chiselled rock as the hallway burrowed into the hill under the upper city. You found an empty room near the end of the corridor and pulled the curtain at the door close behind you. Torches lit the room and their flames reflected in the pool at the centre. The circular hole in floor was about twice your height in diameter, with narrow stairs leading down in to the spring water.
In the corner stood a small washbasin filled with fresh water to clean yourself before you could plunge into the pool. You grabbed the ladle and rinsed your body. Your hand mechanical splashed the water around your nether regions, and you groaned disapprovingly at the slickness between your folds. You washed it away and when you were satisfied with your level of cleanness you walked to the edge of the pool.
Runes glowed in sea-green at the bottom of the pool, warming the cold spring water to a gentler temperature. You descended into the pool and let its cool embrace sooth your soul.
The light from the torches reflected on the disturbed surface of the pool and you watched the patterns form and fade away, only for new ones to emerge in their stead. You lost yourself in the moment, sitting on the under water ledge and letting the water lap at your hot skin.
A touch ghosted up your ankle and your eyes snapped down. You were still alone and nothing seemed to be touching you, and yet as you looked you felt it again.
"Oh gods, again?" you hissed.
Your body tingled all over with pleasure that wasn’t yours. Your core pulsed, screaming to be filled. You wanted to cry, you wanted to scream, you wanted to wring a neck.
"I’m going to kill that insolent Incubus."
You checked that the curtain was still closed and listens intently for any movement outside, but there was nothing. The hallway was silent, and no sound from the next room either. You could almost feel the stretch of something entering you, but it wasn't satisfying, no, it made your arousal worse. You bit your lips in frustration, but you had already decided on a course of action. Your hand found its way between your legs, and you pushed them into your hot, slick hole.
After you finished, you lay still on the edge of the water, feeling the opposite of relaxed and clean. Footsteps clattered along the hallway, stopped in front of the curtain and an employee of the bathhouse, a human woman, came into the room, eyes to the floor.
"Excuse the interruption, dear patron, but a letter has arrived for you. I’ll leave it on the table."
She bowed out, before you could ask who it was from, and left you with the mysterious letter. You dried off your hands and picked the parchment up. The paper was heavy, expansive.
"The Lady in pool room 16" was written on one side in an elegant script and dark red ink, but no sender was indicated, just a red wax seal with a design you didn't recognize. You broke the seal and opened the letter. In the same elegant handwriting, the letter read:
"Meet me at Sharess' Caress tonight
-R."
"R?" you asked out loud. A smell hit your nose, and you held the paper closer to get another whiff. Brimstone.
You were adamant to ignoring the letter and went about your day as if nothing had happened. For the rest of the day you helped out Vicar Humbletoes at the Stormshore Tabernacle, swiping the floors, buying fresh flowers and throwing out one or two troublemakers. Like this, you spent your day and when evening came you went back to your house as normal. While you lit a fire in the oven, part of you expected that your evening would be interrupted, but nothing happened, and you turned in for the night.
Two more days passed without any signs of the devil. That did not mean however that Haarlep gave you a rest, and you wondered who they were luring into their bed all the time, as every few hours a shiver ran down your spine and the arch flared up in your gut. You tried to relieve yourself from time to time, but it seemed to be less and less effective.
In the evening of the third day, after you had received the letter, you were back at the bathhouse in an empty pool room deep in the bedrock, maybe it was even the same one you had accepted the delivery of the letter from Raphael? You had not paid much attention to the room numbers.
The last night had not been very restful and the consecutive day did the rest, you hoped the bath would sooth your spirits. You stepped into the crystal clear water and let its gentle waves cool your heated core. Hopefully, you had a few hours before Haarlep used your body again. You closed your eyes and cleared your mind for a round of silent prayers to Helm, the God of Protectors and Guardians for some peace.
Footsteps came closer, but you didn’t think anything of it until you heard the curtain rustle and a sultry voice said, "You don’t mind some company, do you, pet?"
Part 2
Check my Masterlist for more
#baldurs gate 3#bg3#baldur's gate 3 fanfiction#raphael bg3#baldur's gate 3#raphael x tav#raphael x reader#raphael the cambion#bg3 raphael
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DEPENDABLE - so long, farewell.
cw // NETEYAM’S DEATH. I AM SO SORRY. i literally cried writing this dw i’ll come with family fluff after this.
ney’ite watched as her brothers body was floated across the sea, the fetal position his lifeless body was laid in made her shiver. the white paint on her face almost felt..taunting. ney’ite closed her eyes as the body floated past her, taking a hold of the leaf and making her way over to her parents. as the eldest, jake and neytiri wanted ney’ite to help them give his body to the sea.
ney’ite looked back to her younger siblings, giving them a curt nod. ‘stay strong’ she mouthed before everyone turned to face the bottom of the ocean, ney’ite taking neteyams body into her arms before looking to her parents, nodding before setting his body out, keeping a hand under him as her parents joined.
the trio swam to the bottom of the ocean, letting go of his body when it hit the sea anemone. ney’ite watched as the sea engulfed her younger brother, biting back tears and swimming to the top. once they all reached the surface, ney’ite walked over to ronal and tonowari. “thank you..” she spoke softly, tears pricking her eyes.
the walk back was quiet. nobody spoke a word. only the sound of the waves and small sniffles coming from each family member rang out. “i’ll put tuk to bed” ney’ite sighed, picking up her crying little sister. jake looked over at his daughter, sadness painted across his face. with a nod he patted her back and let her go.
it took a while to get tuk to bed, her crying growing louder and louder and she was truly inconsolable. after getting her down, she noticed all of her other siblings were asleep, her parents comforting eachother. she walked over to them and looked down at the pair, a sad smile across her lips.
she snuggled between her parents and suddenly felt a wave of emotions hit her. all of the anger, the pain, the grief, the regret, it all hit her at once and in an instant, ney’ite came crashing down, curling herself into a ball as she burst into tears against her parents, tears rolling down her face and onto her fathers chest as he tried his best to calm his daughter and his mate, while also trying to keep it together.
it was a few hours later when ney’ite got up and took a small walk, needing fresh air and room to breathe. her parents were weary about letting her go. “i’ll be okay..” she spoke, voice horse. she then set off , stumbling upon the tree of souls.
with a fragile heart and mind, ney’ite hesitantly took her queue and entangled it with the tree, closing her eyes and letting out a sigh.
“ite did you see! i got one on my first try!” ney’ite met eyes with her baby brother, he had to at least be around 5 years old. his innocent state brought her to tears. she remembers this. he had caught his first fish.
in the blink of an eye, neteyam was 15, holding out the necklace to his sister “i made it just for you!” without realizing, ney’ite was crying. seeing her brothers smiling face was enough to make her turn away from him, letting out a sob before falling to her knees , leaning into her brothers arms as he snaked his arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace. “is there something wrong? do you not like it?” ney’ite turned around to see her brothers face, sighing as she cupped one of his cheeks “i love it nete..im just so happy to see you..” she smiled. neteyam let a warm smile peek across his face. “i’m happy to see you too!”
after a few more memories, ney’ite had to leave, wiping her tears as she watched her 5 year old brother chase around a bird that flew in their home. she smiled sadly before whispering;
“so long, farewell little brother.”
#avatar#avatar x reader#neteyam x reader#awotw#jake sully x reader#kiri x reader#loak x reader#neytiri x reader#sully family x reader
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I'd love that 🥺
yes thank u for biting I’ve wanted to write more for this ship since the last one I wrote <3
——
Jane breathed deeply, smoothing her pink dress before she knocked, a bout of anxiety coursing through her as she twiddled with the skirt, so far from her usual dark attire but she knew the light pink would look pretty next to whatever yellow ensemble her date would don. Coupled with the yellow hair clip she’d stolen from Nymphia the last time she spent the night, Jane felt pretty and lighthearted, but more nervous than she’d ever felt before a date.
Though, the moment Nymphia opened the door to her apartment, she was like a breath of fresh air, knocking the wind from Jane all at once.
“Hi,” Jane said, her thick accent coming through like it always did when she was nervous, thrusting a bouquet of yellow roses into Nymphia’s hands. She cleared her throat. “Sorry, my accent always comes through when I’m anxious.”
Nymphia laughed, making Jane’s heart skip a beat. “Hi, Jane, and yes, I know” she said softly, sniffing the sweet smelling roses and taking Jane’s hand. “You don’t have to be nervous though, this isn’t a normal first date. We’re already girlfriends, who just happened to have not had a real first date.”
The sentiment was simple, but it worked in making Jane’s nerves disappear. She fake gasped, feigning offense. “So those drunken nights where we sat on the floor and ate takeout after fucking for hours weren’t dates to you?”
Nymphia laughed, throwing her head back. “ of course they do, this is just our first date outside of that little routine. You look beautiful, by the way.”
“So do you, a vision in yellow,” she laughed, comfort suddenly blooming in her. This was nothing to be nervous about, it was technically a first date but a first date with Nymphia who was just about as comforting as a soft warm blanket and a cup of hot tea on a cold day.
“Well, you know me, mellow in yellow some might say.”
Jane rolled her eyes lightheartedly. “Are you ready to go? I’ve got a very special day planned for us.”
Setting her flowers on the side table near her front door, she grabbed her things and took Jane’s arm, chattering idly while they walked to Jane’s car.
Nymphia’s easy chatter carried them all the way to their destination, a pretty botanical garden where butterflies fluttered about, landing on the people who walked through.
“Oh Jane,” Nymphia swooned, about to jump out of the car in excitement, “I’ve always wanted to come to a place like this!��
Jane blushed, a light dusting of rose petal pink over her cheeks. “I remember you telling me that a while ago.”
Standing on her tip toes, Nymphia pressed a gentle kiss to Jane’s cheek. “Everyone’s wrong about you, you know? You’re totally not a bitch.”
“Wow, that’s the thanks I get for making your dream date come true? I get it,” Jane chuckled, shaking her head.
“I’m just kidding, I love it. Thank you for taking me here. Should we go?”
Hand in hand, Jane led Nymphia to the entrance of the garden, paying for both of their fees and leading her inside to the paved walking path.
“This really is beautiful,” Nymphia said after a bit of comfortable silence while they walked.
Jane shrugged. “It’s nice, but really, it’s you I can’t stop looking at.”
Just as she said that, a big yellow butterfly landed on Nymphia’s head, fluttering it’s wings like it found a home there.
“Hold still,” Jane said softly, pulling out her phone and snapping several pictures, setting her favorite as her Lock Screen, “there,” she said proudly, showing Nymphia her new background.
“Hey, wait, that’s not fair. Now you’ve gotta let me take one of you!”
As of on queue, a blue butterfly landed on Jane, right on her shoulder.
“Your turn to hold still,” Nymphia giggled, pulling out her phone and repeating what Jane just did, choosing her favorite photo carefully and setting it as her phone’s Lock Screen.
They stayed at the garden as long as they were allowed, watching the sun set from one of the stone benches. Nymphia laid her head on Jane’s shoulder, signing contently. “This has been a perfect day.”
Jane found her hand, lacing their fingers together. “Do you think we could have more of these?”
“I sure hope so,” Nymphia replied whistfully, “you know, someday I want to take you to Taiwan. It’s really beautiful there and I think you’d love it.”
‘Someday’ made Jane feel a bit anxious, briefly worried that there wouldn’t be a ‘someday’ with Nymphia but the look on Nymphia’s face and the gentle way she kissed Jane’s bare shoulder told her otherwise.
“I think I’d really love that.”
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Teasing.
Prequel to Seed - Just think...
You love to tease Lo'ak but it seems like he had enough with you and decided to put you in your proper place. Where you ask? Under him moaning, of course.
Hope you enjoy <3
Characters: Lo'ak (19) x Na'vi!f!reader (18)
Warnings: p in v, creampie, rough handling of reader, mentions of breeding, very foul words, lo'ak treating you like a toy but he's kind and fun in the end. Neteyam (20) being a cute creep
Masterlist
"Come on, baby. Fuck—your cunt' sucking me in so good. You like this, yeah? Wet pussy gripping my cock; me pinning you down as I runt in ya'. Yeah baby, just like that. Scream my name. Tell everyone who this tight pussy belongs too."
"Lo'ak! Lo'ak! I—I can't… No more, please no more!" You begged, trying to crawl away from under him, wanting to have a break for even just a second. You didn't have enough energy to move your body. Your arms were no use, feeling like they were nothing more but anchors as Lo'ak took your short attempt to gather them both on top of your head. Using his one hand to hold them together to stop your future attempts in trying to slip away.
Even with the short disturbance you made, he kept rutting; pelvis continuously hitting your ass with a smack, and his talented fingers circling your wet, swollen, and sensitive clint made by the long hours he kept touching you—fucking you and making you cum in any ways he possibly could without pause.
This was all your fault. You knew you were threading on a thin line when you kept flirting with the second son of Toruk Makto; slowly touching his arms, wrapping your tail on his upper thighs, and putting your hands on his back to slowly trail light feathery touches towards his fine ass. Even his tail and queue wasn't spared from your touches, playing with them since they gave you his sweet gasps and whimpers that he tried to hide when someone else was near to hear him.
You enjoyed it, seeing him all flustered. Squirming as he desperately tried to hide the tent that kept forming on his loincloth. Those small touches were enough to get Lo'ak riled up but something inside you still wanted more from the Na'vi boy.
So when you were both deep in the woods trailing behind his siblings back. You took your chance when Neteyam all told you to split up—with you being partnered with Lo'ak.
Slowly coming up behind him when everyone went their separate ways, you grazed your hands on his back making the boy in question pause and look back at you with wide eyes—a mix of curiosity and arousal from your past touches still fresh in his mind. You didn't look away from him as you moved your hands in front of him; hugging him from behind to touch his toned chest. You traced your fingers all over his front in a playful manner, even circling around his nipples causing the boy to squirm under your touch.
Closing your eyes as you gave small kisses to his back, you slowly moved your hands lower towards the very top of his loincloth. Lo'ak couldn't help but growl in warning. Looking up, you were surprised to see him glaring at you, chest slowly going up and down from his heavy breathing.
"I wouldn't cross that line." Lo'ak whispered, voice rough with arousal.
Something in the way he looked at you made your body shiver. He looked like a predator—like a Palulukan watching its prey with such focus that one single move would trigger a reaction.
You weren't scared, in fact, it only made you want him more.
You didn't waste anymore time, quickly cupping the tent on his loincloth and pulling the clothing aside to wrap your small hand on his hard cock; tip purple from his arousal.
Lo'ak gave a deeper growl at the feeling of your warm hands on his hard staff. Cock twitching in your grasp as you touched its tip, smearing the precum that gathered there.
It didn't take long for him to snap; grabbing your arms and throwing you on his shoulders to find a more private spot to continue your activities before any of his siblings walked in on you both.
Now somewhere deeper in the forest, far away from your original spot, Lo'ak chuckled as you moan and beg for him to stop. Your mouth open in a silent scream, grunting along every time his cock went deeper inside you with his hard thrusts. Your eyes were losing focus, and pussy making wet noises; your sweet noises that surrounded the area was music to Lo'ak's ears—music that he never wanted to end. He didn't care if any of his siblings would hear you, throwing that fear away as he was too focus on breaking your mind by the use of pleasure given by him.
"No more? Oh baby, you're the one who begged for this. You want this, don't you? Wanted me to fucking snap and just take you like a bitch in heat. You knew what you were doing—constantly flirting and touching me in places you know 'll get me all riled up. You wanted this so you don't get to tap out on me now, mama. Not now where our body's telling me to keep fucking you."
Eyes rolling back in pleasure, all you could do was reply with broken whimpers; his name you unconsciously keep calling out like a prayer.
Taking his wet fingers away from your clit, he sucked the evidence of your arousal like the sweetest tìhawnuwll fruit he's ever tasted. Humming in contentment in knowing he was the one who made you this wet, it only made him fuck you harder and faster.
With Lo'ak busy pulling you up so your ass were in the air and him repositioning himself to better hit deep inside you—and you clouded by pleasure as you felt him hit that spot that made you scream and beginning for Eywa's mercy, you both didn't hear the sudden snap of a twig just on the side of where you both were.
On the side, hidden by the trees, stood Neteyam. His eyes wide as he saw you screaming under his younger brother—in pain or pleasure, he couldn't tell.
When he first heard a scream, he took it as one of his siblings, Spider or you playing a prank on each other. But the second time he heard it, much louder and sudden, he couldn't help the fear that took hold of his heart. Thinking of the worst, he panickingly searched for his other younger siblings—Tuk held securely in his arms as he ran. He quickly found Kiri and Spider safe in the middle of a clearing. They were confused on what's going on since Neteyam gently but urgently passed Tuk into Kiri's arms, telling her and Spider to go back to high camp. He didn't waste anymore time before running off to find you and Lo'ak.
"Lo'ak! Please… f-fuck, please!.." You didn't know what you were begging for. Your mind was too far away to clearly think or form a full sentence.
"Tell me what you want. Come on, mama. Tell me."
"Close… so close. Stop—don't stop!"
Cursing, Lo'ak pulled your body up. Your back now on his chest as he holds you by your neck. He took his hands and wrapped it on your neck to support you, body too tired to stay upright on your own. He wasn't choking you, but he still put pressure to hold you up making your heartbeat a little louder in your chest.
You were close. Your pussy gripping harder on his cock as he pounds you from behind, whimpering when he keeps kissing your neck to leave love bites to mark his territory on your body, not caring—even hoping, for everyone to see them when you both go back to high camp.
It was too much, more so when Lo'ak decided to reach his other hand towards your clit, rolling it between his fingers. You came hard on his cock, arching your back from the blinding pleasure that took hold of your body and mind. Lo'ak felt your cunt sucking him in. Your soft and wet insides gripping on his cock as he fucks you through your orgasm.
Lo'ak, with the feel of your pussy squeezing his hard cock pulled him closer to his own release. Groaning in pleasure and moaning out your name, he couldn't help but cling to you as his orgasm fast approaches: both his arms now hugging your upper body in a protective embrace.
"Hurry. Mama, where do you want it?" He asked, wanting to know where you wanted his seed to mark you.
"Inside me. Inside, Lo'ak!"
"F-Fuck, you're crazy." But nonetheless, he did. Shooting his seed deep inside you with one last thrust, moving his hips just a little more to double the pleasure as your cunt still sucking him in as if your womb knew to drink his seed.
You and Lo'ak collapsed on the ground, exhaustion hitting you both like an 'Angtsìk running into a tree.
His protective hold on you now slacking but chest still close to your back radiating his body's heat to you; you couldn't help but close your eyes and hum in contentment.
You knew you'd be sore in every part of your body come tomorrow. You could even feel it now as you slowly move your legs trying to get the feeling back on them.
"You alright?" Lo'ak asked behind you. Pushing himself up on his arms to look at your face.
"Never better." You replied with a smile, voice light as you were still getting back your breath.
Getting up from his position, he gave you a long hard kiss on your forehead, giggle as he followed it by a kiss to your nose, and then to your mouth. You couldn't help but give out a small moan when he took out his tongue to touch yours causing Lo'ak to smile at you mischievously.
"Want to go again?" He asked.
"No!" You exclaimed, making the boy laugh especially when you lightly hit him with your first. "I don't think my body could take you again after that."
"We'll practice on it in the future."
And you sure were certain that he'll keep to his word.
Lo'ak, even with his slightly shaky body from exhaustion, tucked himself back in his loincloth and started to take care of you; kissing every part of your body, cleaning you from his seed that dripped down your legs, and afterwards giving you a massage; giving more focus on the parts of your body that he knew he was too rough with.
Sooner than later, you decided it was time for you both to leave and start heading back to high camp.
Standing up and still naked like a newborn baby, you started to look around for your discarded clothing. Lo'ak already handed you your top, but your loincloth was still missing; smacking Lo'ak on his arm when he snickered as you complained on why he had to throw it away in a hurry to take off your clothes.
Walking a bit towards the forest, you heard shuffling. Your body snapped in attention and ears moving to hear if it was any animal that might be dangerous.
"Found it!" Lo'ak called. Holding your loincloth up in the air like a trophy. He called out your name but when you didn't respond he walked towards you with confusion and worry, "You okay?" he whispered as he stood behind you, now also standing in attention when he saw you looking at the forest with a wide and alert gaze.
"It might have been the wind." You told him.
"Then let's go before the wind changes itself into a Palulukan. It's getting late now too. Fuck, do you think the others notice our absence?"
"They might have, but let's hope they didn't and already think we're at camp. I don't want to be lectured again by our tardiness. Your father's scary." Taking your loincloth from his grasp, you quickly put it on.
Lo'ak helped you tighten it from behind. Sneaking a peck on the back of your neck causing your whole body to shiver.
"That is, before Neteyam finds us first. I'm sure he'll have fun screaming at me for making you stay too long in the forest. Pretty sure he'll kill me for it."
"Neteyam might lecture you on your choices and smack you hard in the head. But I don't think he'll kill you. He's probably worried sick about you right now too."
Looking at the sky, you both knew you needed to start moving. Eclipse was closing in and you really didn't want to be scolded tonight, especially not after such an amazing fuck.
"You ready to go, mama?" Lo'ak asked.
You nodded in agreement, the shuffling you heard no longer in your mind as you and Lo'ak started your journey, half running towards high camp to make it in time before curfew.
You both didn't notice the boy sitting behind a tree covering his mouth with his hand, trying to hush his hard breathing. While the other hand on his cock; covered in cum along with the forest floor in front of him that was in a messy line. He couldn't believe his eyes, his baby brother rutting like an animal and even releasing his cum deep inside you. Fuck. The thought of you falling pregnant—Neteyam couldn't help but moan out your name now that he could knowing that both of you were already too far away to hear his voice.
His cock started to harden again from the thought of him being the one behind you thrusting his cock deep inside as you screamed his name out in pleasure; thrusting so deep that when he comes, your womb will be flooded with his seed and wouldn't have any other choice but to take root and grow.
Seeing you in such a vulnerable position snapped something animalistic inside him. Thoughts of you naked, squirming in pleasure and a little bit of pain under him, begging for him to cum inside you and impregnating you surrounded his mind as he begins to rub his length; smearing his cum allover his hardened cock, twitching and aching to be touched.
Now all alone in the forest, Neteyam didn't care who heard his wet cock as he stroked it with the thoughts of you bouncing on it; tits following your movements just before his eyes.
He didn't care that it was almost Eclipse—didn't care that his father would lecture him for being late, having to set a good example for his younger siblings.
The only thing on his mind right now was you. And, oh Great Mother, how he wanted you.
#avatar the way of water#lo'ak#neteyam#lo'ak x reader#avatar smut#read warnings#just read the warnings and all your troubles will go away
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"Gotcha!" Mother Susan exclaimed. She grabbed my wrist with a firm grip and pulled me over. I squealed as she pulled.
"Let go!" I cried.
"Not this time," she said with fire in her eyes. "You've been stealing deserts for months. You won't get away so easy."
She flicked her free wrist and dropped me to the ground. "Now you'll know how it feels like to be a desert."
I scowled as I dusted myself off, ignoring what she said. I looked up at her with a mix of anger that I had been caught, and fear of what else she'd do to me. Her steely gaze gave way signalling my queue to leave.
I was filthy. Looking down at my messed up uniform, I knew I couldn't go to class like this.
I retired to my dorm. Luckily my roommate wasn't home yet.
I looked myself once over in the mirror as I got ready to shower, a fresh uniform already laid out. I wondered what that nun thought her punishment was. What she thought would happen. I felt fine, and she was so weird with her hand.
But as I climbed into the shower and the water touched me, I realised something had changed. My breasts were so tender. They were warm to the touch and my nipples were hard as a rock.
That was when I noticed how much bigger they were.
Not by a lot, but as I moved around to clean myself off, I began to notice the extra weight.
Trying to grab the soap, I brushed my nipple against the cold tile walls. It sent a shiver down my spin. A fire burnt in my belly. Like something had been ignited.
I yelped at the sensation, once again grateful I was alone. But that feeling lingered.
There wasn't much time before my next class, so I quickly dried off and returned to my room. The thought that maybe my body was growing circled my mind like sharks going for the kill.
But as I go to get dressed, I get stuck.
My shirt wont button up past my tits. Trying to squeeze them in did nothing. They had grown so big and soft. In fact, my whole body had gotten softer. My belly begun to stick out. My theighs jiggled when I walked.
I feel to the ground as the shark sink their teeth in. I watched as my titties grew larger by the second
I was eager to see what this new weight could do, playing with them in my hands. I twisted each nipple between my fingers as i steadied myself against the wall behind me. Leaning forward, I felt how heavy i was getting.
I moaned as I struggled to lift myself back up, my back reluctant to help.
Yet, i craved more. My hand shot between my legs as I eagerly waited to grow.
My body pushed harder against my arm as I tried to play with myself. My hips grew wide and my belly grew heavy. Over the next few hours, I watched helplessly as my muscles struggled to keep up. Growing heavier and heavier, it was beginning to get hard to stand.
My knees buckled as i fingered and fondled myself. I came hard, panting and moaning as sweat dripping down my face.
But as I grew, so does my appetite. Eventually my hands alone weren't enough. Toys buzzed into nothing. I felt my body grow around me, but nothing was able to satisfy the urge that grew with it.
Then I heard my roommate close the front door. A great hunger filled my thoughts as I groaned to my feet and waddled into our living room. I leaned against the wall as I waited for Rose to noticed by voluptuous body.
When she saw me she jumped. I could see she didn't know how to react, but my mind was lost to sexual hunger. I craved her now more than ever. I strumbled forward and pulled her in tight. I kissed her deeply and sweetly. Slowly her apprehension faded into excitment.
She reached her hands out and touched my breast, feeling the weight slowly increase.
"I didn't know you felt this way." She whispered into my ear.
My thoughts weren't coherent. I drooled at the thought of her, my eyes struggling to keep focus. "I need you." Was all that escaped.
I unbuckled her belt and pulled her pants to the ground. Dropping to my knees, I lapped at the front of her panties. I was a good girl. I needed to be a good girl.
She recoiled in surprise, but quickly ran her fingers through my hair. After a minute she pulled me free. I looked up at her with wanting eyes. She rolled hers back at me.
She offered me her hand and i stumbled awkwardly to my feet. Then she led me into her room.
I noticed just how huge I looked beside her. My previously, same size housemate was now dwarfed by monstrous tits and a soft body. I stood and played absently with the breasts and belly that surge out in front of me.
But as I looked into her room and I saw her spinning a pair of handcuffs around her fingers, i lost all doubts.
She tied me to the bed, arms splayed out, my eyes fluttered. She pulled from under her bed a large black strap. Fastening it to her now naked frame and climbed on top of me, my body ached for her. I strained against my restraints as i tried to reach closer.
She leaned in close. I felt the hard cold plastic of her dick. My body, still slowly growing, pressed harder and harder into her as she pulled herself in for a deep kiss.
Finally she pulled my legs apart, and positioned herself on top of me. Thusting deep inside me, my body filled with the warmth it had been craving. My eyes roll into the back of my head as my breath gets shallow. I was lost in ecstacy.
I grip the sheets, as i try to focus on her. Trying to hold onto this feeling. Trying to not come immediately. But as i tried to hold myself back, Rose grabbed a handful of my now enormous breasts and says: "You're my sweet creampuff."
My whole body tensed as her words entered by mind. That pleasure was all I knew. It built inside me as she thrusted into my soft body, my body quivering against her every action. Until finally, I come.
As I come I notice that the feeling of growing seemed to stop. I was panting as I looked across my body as Rose who was wearing only a smut smile. The strap has been dropped and she had begun climbing over me.
With a grunt and a groan she dropped her legs on either side of my face, sitting in my enormous chest, and presenting her pussy. Still dizzy from before all I heared her say was "You've been so good. No its my turn."
#breast expansion#growing breasts#natural breast expansion#breast growth#rapid wg#belly kink#tight clothes#outgrowing clothes
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Unfortunately I couldn't @ the requester but hope you find this! This was so, so enjoyable to write! Thank you!
In the quaint town of the bustling empire named Roan, the aroma of freshly baked goods wafts from a small bakery in which [----] works as a bakers assistant. Choi Han, a dedicated warrior, was just heading there to visit them.
As he walks towards the bakery, he looked at the sign inviting locals to a special tasting event of newly crafted pastries. Curiosity piqued, he wondered when you were going to tell him about that, and steped inside the cozy establishment. Immediately he noticed a few people forming a queue, obviously wanting a taste of free goodies. He walked past them to a blank door and slipped past it.
And there, stood you. With your back turned to the door he could only assume you're fretting over some produce, and he was right. "Choi Han! Hello! I'm just finishing up." You greeted him with a warm smile, gesturing to a selection of delectable pastries laid out on a wooden table, and he feels a rush of excitement. But, he still has to ask about the sigh..
They looked almost surprised for a second. "Oh!.. Yeah, we're doing a little promotion for two days or so.." they looked to the side bashfully, "Sorry, I forgot to mention it, 't was busy...".
He chuckled. Typical you.. "It's alright, can I have some of.. what ever you're working on? If it's alright." Choi Han gestured behind you, to the table. Your eyes lit up oh so beautifully when you looked up at him. "Yeah! Sure! I was just preparing some soufflés; It's not for giving away but I'll let you have one. They're blackberry flavoured, hope you'll like 'em." You turned around and grabbed one, carefully handing it to him. "Only the best for my dear, hah!" You winked, and he felt his face get a bit hot, so he decided to look down at the dish. It looked tall and golden on top, surface lightly browned, and had a dusting of powdered sugar on top. You handed him a spoon which he thanked you for and when he scooped into it some purple colour was peeking through the crust. He noted it was kind of puffy and rounded on the sides, probably promising a light and fluffy inside. He put the spoon in his mouth, feeling the crispy top break easily. And the filling felt like a mix of sweet and a bit tangy, like biting into fresh blackberries. He hummed. It's soft and light, reminding him of how he throught eating a cloud would be like.
"...so we start with these juicy blackberries, mix 'em up with whipped egg whites 'til it's all fluffy and colorful. Then into the oven they go, and bam! They rise up all golden and fancy. Man, it sometimes feels like making these soufflés is, like, a type of cooking magic, and every spoonful is a taste of the fun I had making 'em!"
.....Ah. had he not been listening to you?
#tcf x reader#choi han#Choi han x reader#choi han x y/n#trash of the duke's family#trash of the count's family
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Toast! What would the ro's do if they are getting dressed for work but in the mirror they see a huge hickey, very tender when they touch it on their neck? mc got a little wild last night, I mostly asking this for Judge I can't stop laughing imagining his expression.
Oh boy, I'm do love hickeys some fierce
I'll start with the fave since, well, fan favorites skip the queue lol
Judge would just grimace at it. I mean, he could hide it, sure, but then again, he really doesn't care all that much. So inadvertently he's flaunting it at the precinct, giving very deadpan affirmatives to every jab about him having a wild night. The rumor mill would churn pretty fast, and the news of the entire thing would probably end up back to MC before the day's end.
Now Mace would probably not get to work on time if that happened because he's got a vivid imagination, and a fresh memory like that just crashes back. It'd have him hot and bothered every time he caught sight of it, but that's his own fault for not making any effort to not see it. Would blush something fierce when people pointed it out.
Alice however would just straight up wear it with pride because she's definitely left some on MC too. It's like a little mark of love that she unconsciously keeps touching and smiling at because honestly, she loves that kinda territorial thing, although it does make her admirers envious as hell, which makes her show it off even more.
And Sadie's already rifling through her drawer of turtlenecks because NOPE, too much scrutiny from strangers, that's a private matter, the courtroom is not a place to air your nightly shenanigans. She'll enjoy the sight and feel of it in private, a little secret she keeps for herself, and that does make her heart warm, somehow.
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