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#i can’t do it anymore 💓

myarlert · 2 years

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i think i’m going to take a long ish hiatus. i’m trying my best with writing, creating content for people and i just keep getting hurt and accused of the stupidest things. i honestly can’t deal with it anymore. the lack of reblogs, the lack of communication, the lack of appreciation i get compared to others is mind blowing to me. i spend time out of MY LIFE to do this FOR FREE, i thought i could have made genuine friends, gotten a little appreciated for myself and my writing, BUT NO !! i’ve been doing this for years, across different blogs. i have never once stolen anything, no themes, no content, because why the fuck would i?? this is MY blog. i write the way I LIKE TO WRITE. i make things look THE WAY I WANT TO. i’m sick and tired of people accusing me of doing things THAT IM NOT DOING. and to not tell me directly, instead going through a mutual to cause more chaos instead? fuck you. i understand people go through different things and they do things that may look similar, but please try to understand.. I AM DOING THIS FOR ME. recently i haven’t said it at all because i do not like to bring drama and hateful anons onto my blog, but i’ve gotten numerous threats, including d*ath threats which is honestly traumatizing to me, and for what?? i’m giving you free content, if you don’t like it, FUCKING SCROLL PAST IT. ITS NOT HARD. one of the main issues is how much people gatekeep EVERY FUCKING THING. it’s not fun to be in fandoms anymore. y’all are toxic and if you can’t see that then you’re the problem.

anyways i’ve been on this app since about 2017, and i think my time here for writing is up. i’m sick of it tbh. it used to be fun and honestly it’s a chore now. thanks for reading of you did. i’m done. if i feel like it, i might come back. but if people are going to keep accusing me of doing things i’m not, i will not.

thank you for ruining this site for me. happy you got what you wanted?

#bye #i can’t do it anymore 💓

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boneblushed · 4 months

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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lewisvinga · 6 months

Text

water | lando norris x hamilton! reader

summary: y/n hamilton’s latest single has everyone finding out something new about her relationship

fc; tyla

warnings; mentions of 18+ themes uhhh maybe a curse word idk

notes: i feel like no one ever mentions lewis’ brother , so ofc i had to sneak him in there, water by tyla has been stuck in my headdddd

masterlist !

liked by landonorris, lewishamilton, and 1,039,827 others!

ynhamilton: … ‘water’ out now.

username: i’ve waited years😩😩

username: mother ate

username: just in time for the summer breakkkk

landonorris: 😁😁

ynhamilton: stop smiling sm😭

lewishamilton: yes, please stop

username: lando basically being lewis’s brother in law is hilarious 😭😭

lewishamilton: so proud of you❤️ not proud of those lyrics 😒

ynhamilton: oopsies?😁

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 1, 024,937 others!

ynhamilton: 🩵

username: pls teach us how u shake that ass 🙏

username: lando norris cannot handle allat🙄

landonorris: have you not heard her song??

username: LANDO???

landonorris: 😁😁😁😁😁😁

ynhamilton: stop smiling so widely, you’re scaring the children! (oscar)

oscarpiastri: i am very scared thank u

landonorris: ( all mine btw 🧡 )

ynhamilton: ( all yours btw ❤️‍🩹 )

username: YN ANS LANDO ?-‘cpwksj

username: i need a lando in my life 😕

username: y/n looks like THAT and the whole time she’s singing about lando??? y’all , he must be😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

username: lando norizz pulled HER??

lewishamilton: beautiful as always, baby sis! however, nicolas and i don’t approve of that outfit 🤨

ynhamilton: says the man who shows up shirtless on the paddock sometimes 😒

liked by ynhamilton, oscarpiastri, and 1,204,938

landonorris: yes i make her sweat, yes i make her hotter, yes i make her lose her breath and yes i make her water

tagged; ynhamilton

ynhamilton: landooooooo

ynhamilton: i can’t ever convince you to caption things differently…😭

landonorris: nope😁

ynhamilton: love love love you🧡🧡

landonorris: and i love love love you 🧡

username: 😭con😭grat😭ula😭tions😭

username: still can’t believe water is about lando

oscarpiastri: you and me both

oscarpiastri: can’t look at you normally anymore

landonorris: stream water by y/n😝

username: the second picture, she looks tooooo good😩

username: i know lando was giggling after posting this 😭😭

likes by lewishamilton, landonorris, and 1,203,726 others!

ynhamilton: huge thank you to the ones who have been by my side 💗 love u all🫶

tagged; landonorris, roscoelovescoco, lewishamilton

lilymhe: i think lando was doing more than just being on your side

ynhamilton: LILY😭😭

landonorris: no she’s right 😁

lewishamilton: please, i beg you, stop 😕

username: ROSCOEE

roscoelovescoco: love’s you’s auntie 😁

liked by ynhamilton !

username: make me sweattt make me hotterrrr

username: parents are parenting fr

username: no one gonna mention her picture w lewis, like they fr got the good looking genes

username: and talented!!

lewishamilton: so unbelievably proud of you, 💗will never forget how you used to sing so late at night when you were so young!

ynhamilton: lewisss🫶🫶, sorry for keeping you up😁

lewishamilton: i forgive you, however, pls tell landonorris to stop bragging about what the song is about, my poor ears 😔

oscarpiastri: the grids* poor ears, we’re struggling y/n

carlossainz55: help us 🙏 save us🙏🙏

landonorris: I AM NOT SORRY AND I WON’T STOP.

ynhamilton: i tried, i really tried

landonorris: i love you

ynhamilton: i love you💓💓

landonorris: my girl🫶

ynhamilton: my boyy

landonorris: so can i stay inside it?

ynhamilton: LANDO NORRIS😭😭 you’re unbelievable 😕😕 (yes)

landonorris: SCORE!

#f1 scenario #formula one scenarios #f1 smau #f1 scenarios #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula one social media au #formula one smau #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one imagines #formula one imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris imagine #lando norris smau #lando norris social media au

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chrisevansonly · 7 months

Note

it’s a very small idea but something with charles carrying readers heels for her after going out! maybe they’ve gone to a meal or something💓💓💓

i’m gonna do a little blurb rn too…

“stupid shoes, why are you so pretty but hurt so bad”

charles laughed watching as you had begun to struggle down the sidewalk to his ferrari that sat a few blocks from the restaurant

“mon amour, are you regretting your shoe choice?”

“yes…but i refuse to tell you that you were right.”

you really were regretting the decision to wear your gorgeous saint laurent heels that charles had gifted to you for your birthday this year

“baby pause for a moment”

you stopped turning to stare at him, wincing ever so slightly

“char please i can’t stand around in these anymore…”

“i know, just give me a moment love”

he guided you backwards to sit on the edge of a raised flowerbed, kneeling down as his hands ran down your legs to take your heels off, instantly relief washing over you as your feet were free from the death grip they were just in

“oh that’s nice…”

normally charles would have brought a pair of flats for you but since you weren’t far from the car he’d let you walk barefoot the rest of the way, not worried about the pavement

“better?”

“much…thank you lovie”

a smile graced his lips as he leaned forward to kiss you gently

“you’re welcome, can’t have my girl i pain can we?”

taking your hand in his, your heels in the other he walked you to the car, helping you get in before handing you your shoes, a teasing glimmer in his eyes

“still not going to admit i was right?”

“in your dreams leclerc”

laughing as he closed the door, charles knew by the time you got home and into bed you’d admit he’d been right when telling you to avoid those heels, but for now, he was just happy to provide you a little bit of comfort, even if your feet were completely destroyed now.

#rueswrites #ruesanswers #ruesanons<3 #ruesasks #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x wife reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc au #formula 1 masterlist #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

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seattlesellie · 10 months

Text

i truly cant stop thinking about this with college!ellie it really hurts my head oh god 💓

————— ୨୧ —————

☁️ chilling in her dorm room brightly lit only by led lights (we know ellie isn’t exactly a trend follower, but she somehow managed to find herself purchasing some led strings due to someone saying that fucking with red lighting… hits different.) it starts with just laying around in bed, watching sci-fi (today was ellie’s turn to pick) and eating some cup of noodles or cold pizza (ellie listens and pretends to agree with your complains over cheap food, and how hard it is being a college student and having like no money, but she secretly loves extremely processed meals… she just agrees cause she’s a simp)

☁️ obviously, her hands starts to creep up your thigh mid-film (shes seen it already, she’s not missing out on anything) she just caresses and caresses, trailing little circles whilst your head is laying pretty on her chest, listening to her soft little breaths (♡), trying to focus on the movie, but not exactly being able to because she keeps squeezing your upper thigh whenever you remark something about the film…

☁️ “is he gonna die at the end? i hope he doesn’t die” you ask, snuggling closer and moving your head towards her neck. “not… gonna spoil it babe” she huffs, and grabs your thigh. you let out a little squeak, because she may have pinched it a little too hard, so she tries to hide the curl forming on her lips; “am i distracting you?”, you obviously protest, and she whispers in your ear “good, keep watching then”

☁️ truthfully, ellie finds the way youre laying up against her way too distracting herself, she truly can’t focus on anything else but the sensation of having your cheek pressed up against her chest and your thigh spread out on her own… so she decides to stop playing, or for you— start playing, so she plants little kisses on your head and on your forehead, moving down to nibble at your ear. your breath hitches, and she asks again… “am i really… not distracting you at all?”

☁️ at one point, her arm moves up to your ass, caressing it in agonizingly slow circles. you somehow managed to completely miss out on three whole minutes of the flick, the one guy you thought might die probably died already, or maybe not— you really couldn’t care less, but you’re on a mission. you’re not going to give into her that easy… but mind you— ellie loves a challenge.

☁️ she slips her hand inside your panties, and you nearly go cross eyed at the sensation of her palm laying down on your core. “what are you doing?” you ask, and it escapes your mouth sounding like a half broken, shaky whisper. “just… warming up my hand… its cold— m’cold.” you almost give in completely, and its so difficult not to start grinding up on her hand and keep those whimpers caged in your throat, but luckily for you ellie doesn’t move her hand. she just lets it lay there. who will break first? you, or her?

☁️ “if you’re that cold… there’s an extra blanket— look” you signal towards the green, soft cotton blanket laying unused on the side of the bed. “nope” she says in a low tone. “you’re warming me up just fine… now keep watchin’, best parts coming up”

☁️ it goes on like this for a while, ellie telling you to “keep your eyes on the screen, babe” “gonna hurt me if you wont pay attention to my favorite fucking movie”, and it starts aching and aching and you cant keep it together anymore, so you pull her in to a wet, drooling, tongue twisting kiss. “knew you were fucking distracted”

☁️ when she pulls out the strap from her bedside table, its only a matter of two seconds till she’s deep inside of your cunt. she puts you in missionary, slapping your ass as she lays you down, you moan something so fucking muffled because she didn’t even give you time to fully adjust to the purple silicone toys size, and then completely stops. “nuh uh— you’re riding me” she grunts, “let’s go— get on fucking top and start riding”

☁️ even though she’s the one who flips you over and plunges you deep inside her cock, she demands you to do all the work. “show me how fucking bad you need it” you start squirming around her, jumping up and down with your tits bouncing, she grabs them both forcefully; “atta fucking girl” you bounce faster and faster, screaming her name and she stares hypnotized, marveling at how well her girl is taking her and doing it all on her fucking own. “taking me so fucking good—“ & it rubs on her clit so hard she almost drools on herself, and hisses “fuck yourself on my cock j—fuck… just like that, good fucking girl”

☁️ you cant take it anymore, and you start seeing complete, pure whiteness in your eyes, so you… break, and beg; “fuck me” she smirks, looking absolutely ravenous and desperate, “wan’ me to fuck you? beg for it”, so you plead, and plead, and plead for her to fuck you in her ear “please please fuck me ellie…”, it comes out so whiny and pathetic and she could never, ever say no to that.

☁️ she separates your asscheeks, peeling them apart, and starts fucking into your cunt fervently, with just short circuited breaths escaping her mouth, constant praises ringing in your ears “you like that? you fucking like that?” and oooooh, god—

how are you ever going to finish watching a whole movie with her.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams x you #the last of us #wlw #ellie williams hq’s #ellie williams blurb #ellie williams drabble #college!ellie

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back2bluesidex · 5 months

Text

Afterglow - JHS

Pairing: Husband!HoseokX Wife!Reader

A follow-up drabble of Girl Crush

Theme: Angst, arranged marriage au, hurt to comfort au, little bit of fluff

Wordcount: 1.6k+

Request: "Afterglow with hoseok. Where the reader and hoseok had a fight, and hoseok walked out, which left the reader thinking about the argument. thank uu💓"

Summary: Hoseok looks at you, smiles at you, and makes conversations with you unlike Yoongi. Hoseok’s eyes are full of warmth and adoration for you unlike Yoongi. Hoseok feels for you, unlike Yoongi.

Based on Afterglow by Taylor Swift.

Warnings: angst, reader was previously divorced, argument, some annoying aunties, mentions of divorce, past relationship, broken marriage, that's all

Minors are not allowed in this blog!!

A/N: You guys are really persistent. Most of you wanted a follow up of Girl Crush. But I had 0 mind of doing so. So, I turned this request in a drabble and made it into the part 2. Hope you guys like it. And no more parts will be added to this.

If there are 100 people in this room right now, then 80 of them want to be at your place, in your shoes. But you would sign your soul to the devil to be anyone else other than yourself.

You are not being cocky, neither ignorant… you just can’t take it anymore.

Being rich doesn’t mean you are the happiest person in the world, but quite the opposite. At least in your case.

Being rich means losing your right of loving a person and being loved by them as you are nothing but a pawn that is to be exchanged at the right time through the right deal.

Being rich also means you will be traded again and again even if you are a worn out, old, rugged piece because there would be someone always trying to buy you at the lowest possible price.

That’s how you landed on your second arranged marriage (as if the first one had not broken you enough), your second husband and this is the second time you feel like you are falling and breaking, crushing your soul, exhausting your emotions to its extent.

Three years ago you got married to Min Yoongi, someone you loved and someone who loved someone else.

It’s been two years since you divorced Yoongi. It’s been two years since you walked out of his home with a broken heart.

Yes, your love life certainly didn’t gain anything out of your and Yoongi’s broken marriage but your father gained what he was promised with.

For a year, you tended your broken heart, your insecurities, you made yourself believe in the fact that you indeed deserved to be loved. Just because your first husband didn’t love you, doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world.

Just when you were at the peak of your healing, your father decided to sell you off once again. This time to a larger empire, holding more power, more wealth and endless benefits for your company.

“It’s only been a year since my divorce, appa! How can you sell me off once again?” You had cried, screamed at your father for the very first time in 27 years of your life.

“Dal, Mr. Jung made the proposition. He said you have caught his son’s eyes! How could I say no?” he reasoned.

You didn’t say anything more that night. For once you contemplated running away somewhere far from all of this. But your rationality didn’t allow you to leave your old father embarrassed and helpless. So you stayed.

And, this is how you ended up here, tugged at the side of Jung Hoseok, your husband.

Hoseok looks up at you with apologetic eyes and you know he is sorry.

This is one of the thousands of differences you have found between your married life with Yoongi and your married life with Hoseok.

Hoseok looks at you, smiles at you, and makes conversations with you unlike Yoongi. Hoseok’s eyes are full of warmth and adoration for you unlike Yoongi.

Hoseok feels for you, unlike Yoongi.

But the question is do you feel anything for him? You don’t know.

Or maybe you do but you are way too afraid to start feeling again, to start loving again.

“But darling, why her? She divorced her previous husband within a year!” Mrs. Lee, one of the shareholders of Jung Group of Companies, exclaims in her high-pitched voice. Even though she’s trying to keep her voice as low as possible, or at least pretending to do so, you can hear her clearly.

The hold of your drink goes tight. Mr. Kang is complementing how good you are looking tonight but you can barely hear anything. All you can hear are the taunts that the old snitch is throwing at you.

“Mrs. Lee, it’s business.” you hear Hoseok saying and all of a sudden everything around you turns dark.

You whip your head to meet Hoseok’s eyes but he is avoiding looking at you.

Within seconds your vision starts blurring. So, the impromptu dates, the youtube recipes, the sweet gifts, that luxurious honeymoon, those late night beers.. Everything was for business?

You were wrong the entire time you thought you had seen love in Hoseok’s eyes?

All.. all of it was business?

Or was it pity?

Hoseok knows everything about Yoongi and you. Is that why he treated you kindly?

Your life feels like a lie and once again.. You see your hopes crumbling down like a house made of cards.

“Why?” you throw your purse on the couch and stand abruptly in the middle of the living room.

Tears stream down your face. You successfully suppressed your anger for the better part of the night but it is impossible to do so anymore. Since you and your so-called husband are alone now, he better answer your questions.

The tremble in your voice hints Hoseok that you are crying. He takes long strides and reaches where you are.

Placing a hand on your shoulders, he turns you around and murmurs, “Y/N? What-”

He tries to wipe your tears away but you swat his hand, “why were you always so kind to me? Why? Because it’s business or is it because you pity me?”

“Y/N.. No. it’s not what you think. I told her-” Hoseok tries to hold your trembling form with both of his hands but you push him away as harshly as possible.

“You told her because it’s true. All of those gifts and dates and dinners.. Everything, everything was a lie!” screaming at the top of your lungs, you break down.

Hoseok runs towards you, tries to hold you in his embrace.

“Don’t.. Don’t fucking touch me!” you seethe through anger. Hoseok retreats.

“Okay, I won’t.” He replies calmly but you can see his eyes filling bit by bit, “but just so you know, you were never business for me. Mrs. Lee only shut up because I said what she wanted to hear and she is not a family or a friend so I would have to explain the truth to her.”

“No- don’t. Don’t lie!” your voice comes out harsher than you intended to.

“You think I am lying because I said something insignificant to someone insignificant just today but what about everything I did to make you realize how I feel for you?” Hoseok’s voice trembles. And it hurts you but you are hurt as well.

“You don’t feel anything for me. And you, too, should know that I don’t and won’t feel anything for you.” your heart breaks at the lie you throw at your husband but the way tears run down his face.. It instantly makes you feel like a criminal.

“Is that so?” he asks, sniffing once, “then.. I should leave you alone.”

Before you can register what’s happening, you hear Hoseok walking out of the door and shutting it loudly enough to signify his departure.

And then you start wailing, loudly. Your cries fill the empty space of your apartment as you realize you are all alone once again.

Staring at the moon always brings you solace but tonight it doesn’t. Your mind keeps playing whatever happened a few hours ago and how hoseok left the house.

He has always been so kind to you, from the very first day you two met at a charity gala, some five or six years back. You didn’t really acknowledge his presence much as you were always busy admiring Yoongi from afar.

You remember Hoseok once saying that he looked at you while you looked at Yoongi. You were not sure what he tried to mean but that was the first time your heart took an erratic pace in a while.

A phone suddenly starts vibrating, pulling you out of your thoughts. But it’s not yours. Your eyes find the glowing object near by the door. It’s Hoseok’s phone, which he probably dropped on his way out.

When you reach the object and pick it up, the screen glows again. There are a couple of notifications, which you clear for seeing the background.

It’s a photo from your honeymoon. The photographer ajussi forced you to stand closer and place a sweet kiss on Hoseok’s cheeks. He blushed hard that time.

Sobs start spilling from your throat as soon as you realize what you have done, what you have lost.

You blew things out of proportion, you put him in jail for something he didn't do. You unloaded all of your insecurities on the man who only loved you.

Clutching his phone on your chest, you start crying again. It’s you who burned things down. It’s you who hurt Hoseok. And now you have lost him, really lost him.

The door clicks open, forcing you to look up from your crouched position.

“Y/N..” it’s him, it’s your man, it’s your husband, Jung Hoseok.

He walks towards you but then remembering something he takes a step back.

His eyes are red. You know he has been crying just like you.

“I- I forgot my phone-”

Before he could end his sentence, you leaped at him. You hold him tightly in your embrace. Hiding your face in his chest, you cry, cry and cry. Hoseok holds you back and starts sobbing with you.

“I love you. I fucking love you so much that it hurts, Y/N. It hurts when you don’t understand, when you turn blind eye.” He says as he strokes your hair softly.

“I- I was afraid, Hoseok. What if I was wrong again. What if- what if you didn’t-”

“I always did, Y/N. I have loved you for a long time. I loved you when you were a bachelor and I loved you when you got married. I loved you when you divorced him. And I loved you when we took vows. I still love you and I always will.”

“I love you too, Hoseok.” you finally confess and it feels euphoric. You must have found utopia where the person you love, loves you back.

Hoseok leans down, seals your lips with his and now you know… You have found your forever. You have found your afterglow.

#bts angst #hoseok angst #bts x reader #hoseok x reader #bts arranged marriage au #jhope angst #jhope x reader #bts fanfiction #hoseok fanfic #jhope fanfiction #bts jhope #bts

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errythinisblue · 1 year

Text

I’m so so sorry I kept you waiting for so long! 💓But finally your requests are here (I hope you won’t mind I put them together 🙈)

Babying a boyfriend.

Mason Mount x Y/N

Summary: Taking care of a needy boyfriend can be tough, especially if said boyfriend is a needy Mason Mount.

Warnings: SMUT (near the end)

gif credits to @masonmiamor

“Baaaabe!” the muffled voice of your whiny boyfriend called you, for the millionth time in barely five minutes. “Baaaabe c’mere I miss you so so so much!”

You rolled your eyes as your lips curled up in a smile, as you finished cutting the vegetables you’d need to make soup for dinner. You cleaned your hands on a towel while you walked to the sofa, where you found Mason sprawled on its soft cushions.

“What is it that you want now?” you giggled as you spoke to him, staring at his sleepy face. You took a step closer to him, sweetly caressing his hair and running your nails on his scalp making him groan.

“Cuddles.” he stated, still partially under the anaesthesia effect, “I want cuddles. Aaaand, I don’t want to be alone, I don’t want to stay here doing nothing without you.” he almost slurred as he wrapped his arms around your legs, pushing his face in the middle of your thighs and groaning again from the discomfort in his face.

“Mase don’t!” you scolded him, making him whine again as you gently escaped his hold, “I don’t want you to get hurt, so just stay still please!”

“But I want you here!”

“I just left you alone for five minutes!” you giggled again as you saw Mason’s pouty lips and his frown, “I have dinner to cook, what are you gonna eat if you don’t let me go??”

“No! No!” the slight panic in his voice made you laugh out loud this time, “I don’t want to let you go! I- We can order something from Five Guys! I still want that cheeseburger.” he turned serious all of a sudden, a clear sign that the anaesthetic was wearing off.

“You can’t have a cheeseburger babe,” you shook your head, “not when you just removed your wisdom teeth.”

“I can and I will.” he frowned again, crossing his arms on his chest and defying you with all his stubbornness.

“No you won’t,” you kneeled in front of him, feeling as if you were trying to bargain with a moody toddler, “listen to me, will you?”

“No.” his pout turned deeper, before he side eyed you, relaxing his features, “Maybe.” he muttered as he touched his cheeks with his hands, wincing.

“Do you need some more ice?” you asked him, touching his leg, “Are you in pain?”

“I can’t stand to feel like this anymore!” he whined, his glossy eyes tearing at your heartstrings.

“Okay, listen, I’m gonna bring you some more ice for the pain, you just stay put and wait for me,” you softly spoke to him as your fingers draw figures on his forehead and between his eyebrows, “I’m gonna finish making soup and I’ll be back and give you all the cuddles in the world okay?”

“But I don’t want to eat soup!”

“I know baby,” you looked in his droopy eyes, “but do you remember what the doctor told you?”

“Only liquid food is allowed.” You and Mason said as one.

“Yeah baby, only liquid food,” you nodded your head at him, a soft smile gracing your lips as you looked at your boyfriend, “but it won’t be for too long okay? I promise you.”

“Can I help you make soup?”

“You should rest Mase,” your finger now touching his nose, “I’ll think about dinner.”

“Ugh but I wanna be close to you!”

“You can do all you want to me once I’m done I promise you,” you squeezed his thighs, getting back up from your knees and placing a soft kiss on his lips, “now rest!”

“All I want?? Really??” he raised his voice to make sure you heard him from the kitchen.

“Yeah babe!” you chuckled, as you whispered to yourself ‘You’ll probably be asleep as soon as your head touches the pillow anyway’.

“Thanks for cooking dinner babe,” Mason told you, the effects of the anaesthesia completely worn off by the time he had dinner, “I’m sorry I gave you a hard time.”

“You didn’t give me a hard time Mase,” you shrugged, “well, not that much!”

“Looks like I’ll have to cuddle you to repay you,” your boyfriend smirked, slightly wincing for the pain that he still felt in his face, “it’s the least I can do.” he said as he opened his arms to welcome you in his embrace.

“You don’t owe me anything, I love taking care of you,” you sighed as your head found its rest on his chest, “especially if I get free hugs in return!”

“You get free hugs and I get you all to myself,” he whispered in your ear, “I don’t really know who’s the luckiest one between us.”

“I am the lucky one baby, you were so cute all whiny and clingy!” you dreamily said, an awww sound escaping your lips as you thought about the afternoon you had to spend babying your man.

“Shall I remind you that I can make you a whiny mess too?” he breathed in your ear, earning a gasp from you.

“Don’t you even think about it!”

“Okay okay,” he chuckled breathily, “but it was you who told me, and I quote ‘You can do all you want to me once I’m done’, you even promised!”

“I didn’t mean that in a dirty way you perv!”

“You can’t blame me,” Mason shrugged, “when you say things like that I can’t really stop my mind from wandering…”

“Well you should,” you sighed as you got up from your spot on the sofa, “you have to rest and recover.”

“Where are you going now??” the whiny tone in his voice was back, making you laugh once again.

“I’m just gonna take a glass of water from the kitchen babe!”

“Are you thirsty??” he smirked, as he eyed you up and down.

“Mase stop it!” you warned him, pointing your finger at him.

“I was just asking.” he said as he licked his lips.

“And why were you so curious??”

“Because,” he said as he got up, coming to stand in front of you, “I might help with something…”

You laughed as you watched him wiggle his eyebrows in a suggestive way; Mason laughed with you, looking down at your beautiful lips as he caressed your face.

“You’re so beautiful baby,” he whispered, “I’m so lucky- ow-”

“Hey what’s wrong??” you asked him, afraid he might be in pain.

“My head is spinning, it’s better if I sit down…”

“Come on, I’ll help you,” you said, focusing on him, “better now?” you asked him, straddling his lap as you touched his hair.

“So much better,” he smirked, gently stroking your cheek with the pad of his thumb, “I wanna kiss you so bad.”

“Did you just trick me??”

“Maybe I did,” he smiled, “but this fucking anaesthetic is making me feel so weak yet so horny at the same time! You look so irresistible right now!”

“Just right now?”

“You know it’s not like that.” he stated, “My attraction to you feels just stronger tonight.”

His hands went under the hoodie you were wearing, his hoodie, travelling from your stomach up to your boobs.

“Oh God your boobs are sooo perfect!” he groaned, “So, so perfect!”

“You like them?” you smirked, clearly feeling his arousal grow beneath you.

“I love them,” he rasped, “how I’d like to push my face in-”

“Mason!”

“I told you I’m horny!” he whined loudly.

“Yeah and with no filter still!”

“It’s not my fault you’re making things hard for me!” he shrugged, trying to bite his lip without feeling any pain, “Well you’re technically making me extremely hard by sitting on top of me but-”

“Okay okay! Enough!” you laughed as you stood from his lap, “I don’t want to make things more uncomfortable for you.” you said, suddenly feeling hot.

“Well, help me out then…” he suggested.

“Help you out?” you bit your lip, unable to admit that the feeling of his erection under you didn’t affect you in any way.

He just nodded; his eyes bore into yours, shining with both exhaustion and desire, the look in those dark brown pools making it impossible for you to resist him. While you kneeled in front of him, Mason parted his thighs slowly, making room for you as you crawled in between them; his breath got stuck in his throat while your hands untied his joggers, setting his cock free of any restraints.

“You keep taking care of me so well baby,” his tired smirk made you more aroused in an instant, “look at you, on your knees for me.”

“You like that don’t you?” you bit your lip as you stroked his cock.

“I like that very much.” he nodded, with his hooded eyes and his lips parted.

“Just promise me one thing,” you breathed against his lips, “if it becomes too much you stop me okay?”

“Okay baby…”

“Now just relax,” you mused, “I’ll take care of your needs…” you whispered against the sensitive skin of his dick, before you took him in your mouth.

“Jesus babe, you’re so good at this, fuck…” he groaned, his head spinning for real this time, and for a better reason.

The deep rhythm of his breathing, the sudden jerks of his hips, his soft moans and the cursing, were clear signals that Mason was indeed enjoying your attention, and all those signals only spurred you on.

You guided his dick further into your mouth, keeping a firm yet soft hold around its base as your head bobbed up and down. As Mason’s hand touched the back of your head, his cock hit the back of your throat making you gag around it.

“Oh fuuuck babe!” he whimpered, short of breath, “I don’t think I’m gonna last much longer babe…”

You didn’t waste any time with words, you just gazed up at him; and when your eyes met his, Mason’s rolled in the back of his head at the sight.

“God, babe keep going please,” he urged, “don’t stop, I-I’m cumming!” he stuttered, as you could feel him twitching between your lips as his cum coated your throat.

“Are you still horny now?” you teased him while you rested your cheek on his thigh, watching as he tucked himself back into his underwear.

“Don’t tease me, you know I’m always horny,” he smirked, “but I have to say, I’m just really sleepy right now.”

“Let’s go to bed then.” you sighed as you stood back on your feet, offering him your hands to help him stand.

“You won’t leave me alone this time, right?” he pouted jokingly.

“I won’t, I swear!” you chuckled, as you walked him to your shared bedroom, “Uh uh, undress yourself first mister! I don’t want you sleeping in my bed with your clothes on!”

“Yeah, that’s just another excuse to get me naked!” he giggled sleepily, as he tried to remove his clothes, almost losing his balance in the meantime.

“Can’t you just sit while you undress yourself??” you told him off.

“Okay okay!” he raised his hands, listening to your words as he sat on his side of the bed, “But can you do me a favor babe?”

“What is it?” you asked him from the bathroom, coming out of it as you were still applying some night moisturiser on your face.

“Can you grab me a t-shirt to sleep in?” he asked you as he removed his hoodie, sticking with just his underwear on.

He was already rubbing his sleepy eyes by the time you walked back from the walk-in closet, and that sight made you smile.

“Come on, arms up!” you said as you smiled fondly at him.

“Yes ma’am!” he yawned, lifting his arms up for you to help him put the shirt on.

“Lay down now,” you whispered, holding the covers up for him, “I’ll be back soon baby.” you told him as you covered his body, kissing his forehead as you did so.

“Where are you going?” he sleepily mumbled.

“I just have to brush my teeth and I’ll be back,” you reassured him, “it won’t take long.”

“I’ll wait for you…”

“Okay baby.” you smirked to yourself, knowing full well he would be out like a light in a second.

And you weren’t wrong, his eyes closed and sleep found him as soon as his head hit the pillow.

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valsarchives · 1 year

Note

can you do a insta au w gracie abrams as the face claim! any story line u want 💓

a/n: hope you like it! someone asked me to make an insta au about these rumors and I mixed it with this i hope you don’t mind! i’ll make second part for this.

Face claim: Gracie Abrams

part two

my girl - t.c

rollingstone

liked by iansomerhalder, emmaroberts, henrycavill and 10,593,105 others

rollingstone we are back with our favorite lady yourusername!!! we had an amazing conversation (some questions we asked might be what you wondered 👀) don’t forget to check it out! Link in bio.

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yourusername 🩶

*liked by rollingstone

ynmybaby MY GIRLLLL

username994 wowza ❤️‍🔥

yourfan385 my girl looks so fine!!!!!

ynsbabygirl can’t believe timothee prefered some plastic over this masterpiece

randomuser wait what?? They broke up?!?!

yourfan593 yeah they broke up 2 weeks ago and now he is rumored to be dating kylie jenner since january. If that’s true that means timothee cheated on her

timmytimmy he would never do that

ynsbabygirl well, he would never date kylie too right? but now entertainmenttonight says they’re officially dating 🤷🏼‍♀️

kissmeyn mommy 🥵

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ynlndaily

2,395,275 likes

ynlndaily I really didn’t want to believe he would do something like that but idk if I can defend him anymore.

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username560 I can’t believe it

timmyfan04 This is just a PR but they’re talking badly about timmy :(

username94729 well, he shouldn’t let that happen then

tchalmtfann I won’t believe this shit until there is a valid proof or some pictures of them together

randomuser noooooooo

ynsbabygirl idk if this is true but if it is that means Y/n made the right decision

timmytimmy pls tell me this is a joke

timmyfan3 Timmy nooo

yourfan0 he looks like her son💀

ynmybaby I just watched Rolling Stone interview. They asked about her relationship with Timmy and she said they ended it on good terms, she said “We didn’t break up for any dramatic reasons, we were so busy with our careers and we didn’t have time for each other and the relationship wasn’t going well because of that so we decided to end it. We still care for each other.”

username59275 istg these celebs always break up for being so busy for relationship. Give me the real reason!!

kissmeyn yes you’re right about that but Y/n always explained why did she break up with all of her exes, she never lied once so you don’t have any right to say that for her

username59275 yeah, you’re right i guess

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tchalametdaily

1,494,285 likes

tchalametdaily Timothée spotted in New York, filming a commercial for Chanel directed by Martin Scorsese.

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timmytimmy OH MY GOD 🥵

tchalafann mom, your girl is in love with this man

calametfan5 🛐

timotheefan15 GUYSSS THERE IS A VIDEO ON TIKTOK! A FAN YELLS “TIMMY ARE YOU REALLY DATING KYLIE” AND HE SAID NO!!!!

timmytea WAIT WHAT

randomuser I NEED THAT VIDEO RN

timotheefan15 I’m sending you the link!!

username594 ME TOO PLS

timotheefan15 sure!

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enews

7,495,395 likes

enews After a video by jessielyn_ on TikTok went viral, everyone talks about newly ended relationship these two shared. Since Timothée still follows her on Instagram (he only follows one person and that’s her) and likes some of her posts, the fans are still hopeful for them.

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yourusername

liked by tchalamet, johnnydepp, kidcudi and 13,395,296 others

yourusername So ready for you Coachella!

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ynmybaby I’M SO GLAD I HAVE A CHANCE TO SEE YOU MY GIRL!!! I’M SO EXCITED

yourusername I’ll be waiting hon 💋

ynmybaby KDJFSKJDKSJD AHHHHH 😩😩😩

yourfan385 SO EXCITED

florencepugh go girl!!!!!

pauline.chalamet ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

kissmeyn i love you so much it hurts 😭

timmytimmy you look stunning!!!!

tchalafann I wonder if Timmy will be there, he said he will definitely come before they broke up :/

randomuser what if he shows up with kylie 🤯

timotheefan494 he literally said he wasn’t dating her

randomuser oh right!

zendaya THAT’S MY GIRL

hero_ft you’re the reason I’m attending Coachella this year

henrycavill same.

username5947294 HENRY IS ATTENDING COACHELLA?????????

yourfan0 I WASN’T EXPECTING THIS AT ALL WHAAATTT

random_username THIS IS TOO MUCH 😭

tomholland2013 Let’s gooo!!!!

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tchalamet’s story

#timothée chamalet #timothee chamalet #x reader #instagram au #timothee chalamet x reader #celebrity reader #timothee chalamet #timothee x reader #timothée chalamet x reader #timothee x y/n #smau #timmy chalamet #timothee chalamet social media au #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet x you #timothee x you

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makeyoumine69 · 8 months

Note

Hi! For the 2k followers celebration: Daddy kink, non con, rough sex. Pet name Sugarplum, thank you! <3

Watch Me Burn

— PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

— SUMMARY: Patrick waited for so long to get his hands on you, and now that you’re finally his, he'll make sure to fulfill all his fantasies, whether you like it or not.

— CONTAINS: Non-con smut, oral sex (Patrick receiving), unprotected p in v sex, Daddy kink, degradation, manhandling, pet names, dirty talk, humiliation, choking, hair pulling, biting, spanking.

— WORDS: 1.5k

— A/N:Thank you so much for your request! It was such a pleasure to write this, so don't mind the length, I just couldn't stop myself, but I hope you like it!

— LINKS: [MASTERLIST] [buy me a coffee]💓

Anger and despair were eating you from the inside out and that feeling was almost scorching — you could feel the searing pain piercing through every pitch of your trembling body. Naked and embarrassed, you were resting on Bateman’s king sized bed. Even though you were not tied up, you didn’t make any attempts to run away, considering you knew you wouldn’t have a chance to escape him.

Playfully humming to himself, Patrick was setting up the camera, he was fully stripped too, however you were doing your best to avoid looking at him — the way his toned muscles were lilting each time he made a move, and not to mention his fully erected cock, bobbing up and down with the bead of the pre-cum on top of his blushing tip.

“What is this sad face?” He suddenly asked after checking if you were on the full screen for the camera. “Not funny anymore, Sugarplum?”

When you didn’t reply, Patrick got closer to the bed and beckoned you to its edge — and this time you couldn’t just ignore him. Tentatively, you moved to the place he wanted you to, his cock twitching from the sight of your exposed body, plus the way it was shaking was giving him a special sort of satisfaction.

With a devilish smirk, Bateman grabbed your chin possessively, forcing you to look at him while he briefly stroked himself. “C’mon, baby. Give it a taste.”

With your eyes already wet again, you got closer to him and wrapped your shaking hand around the base of his dick. When you opened your mouth, you thought you were ready to endure all the things which this night would bring you, but at the very last moment, you closed your eyes and pleaded: “No, I can’t! I can’t do it,” you tried to return to your previous place but his dead grip on your throat didn’t allow you to do it. “Patrick! NO! Please, d-don’t make me do this!”

As soon as you saw his large palm getting closer to your face, you flinched, knowing that he would slap you, but instead, he just slipped his thumb inside your mouth.

“I can’t believe you didn’t take me seriously when I said you would be mine,” Patrick hissed and kept jacking himself off in a steady pace, pushing his finger deeper inside your mouth. “Not a pleasant feeling, huh?” He chuckled arrogantly at your pitiful lowing. “You will get used to it, I promise.”

Everything started to happen so fast, your little mind didn’t have a chance to follow and your head was spinning as if it were hit with a hammer. Growling, Bateman stuffed your mouth with his throbbing cock, pushing it almost till the base and squeezing your nostrils tight, asphyxiating you and ignoring the way you were desperately clawing at his hands.

“If I find any scratches on my skin, I will rip off your fucking nails!” He scoffed and yanked you by the hair. “DO YOU HEAR ME?”

Annoyed, Patrick pulled out from your mouth and you used this moment to inhale deeply, not even thinking about the string of saliva mixed with his pre-cum running down your chin.

“Yes…"

Bateman growled in return and shook you several times.

“Yes, who?” He spat his words into your dull face, squashing your cheeks.

“Yes, Daddy!” You dared to stare into his eyes, although you regretted it almost instantly, as they seemed to be brighter than the Sun and it was too much to look into them.

“You better not test me, Sugarplum.” Patrick crooned in a sweet voice, sliding his leaking dick along your swollen lips before he gave them several slaps. “Actually, I don’t want to hurt you,” he matched his words with a light stroke on your cheek, but the next second he pushed himself inside your mouth once again. “I was thinking about having you for too long… I was imagining how warm your mouth would be,” he almost moaned with his eyes closed as he began to rock his hips against your face. “Fuck, it feels even better than I thought.”

Never in your life have you felt yourself more vulnerable than now and with each passing moment it was getting worse — his obsession about you became your darkest curse.

When Bateman got bored with you giving him head, he easily manhandled you to get on all fours while he was setting himself behind you, so now you both were facing the camera and the mirror on the opposite side of the room. That damn mirror made you close your eyes to avoid seeing that pitiful sight, but once you felt his red tip prodding against your shamefully moist opening, you couldn’t help but turn around to face him — your scared gaze met his lustful one and for a moment you thought you were going to black out.

“Mmmhm, w-wait!” You mewled the moment Patrick rammed inside your tight hole. “It… a-aaaww… it’s so big!”

Cramping the sheets, you could swear you felt each inch of his girth stretching your soft walls and that sensation was both painful and delightful — it made your eyes roll back into your head and lose attachment to reality.

“Shit, you’re so tight,” he husked and thrusted deeper, pushing on your back to bend you lower. “And so fucking wet, you like to be treated like that? Am I right, bitch?”

“N-no!” You whimpered as he gripped your neck and made you arch your back towards him, almost splitting you in half.

“You’re… mmmhm… you’re such a little pathetic liar!” Punctuating each word with a harsh, long stroke, Patrick sped up and forced you to look up at him. “I’ll make sure everyone knows how much of a slut you’re! Now, look at the fucking camera!”

Panting, he let go of you and spanked your ass hard, you could see several tears falling down on the sheets before you raised your watering eyes on the camera.

“How would your friends and family react to seeing you like that?” Bateman continued to taunt you, slamming into you relentlessly, so you could feel his heavy sac hitting your soaked pussy. “Do they know how nasty you are?”

“P-please stop! Stop saying things like that,” you cried out, wiggling in his grasp but Patrick only pushed on you harder and when he covered you from behind completely, you wailed so loud because the angle of penetration was too much to bear. “Please, Daddy! Please, ahhh—please don’t do that!”

“Do what?” He murmured into your ear, resting his hands beneath you, so now they were wrapped around your neck like tight ropes.

“Don’t… don’t show this to anyone, I beg you!” You hated yourself for sounding so miserable and broken, but just the thought of your friends or family watching you like this made you wanna sink through the ground.

His low snickering drowned in lewd sounds of your bodies slapping against each other, along with slick squelch your cunt made each time his throbbing cock slid inside and outside.

“Argh, look at you! You’re so pathetic and ruined… and I like that.” He nipped at your neck and rolled his hips against your ass to push himself even deeper, his swollen tip roughly brushing against your cervix. “How far are you ready to go for it?”

You swallowed your salty tears, clinging to the bed with all might you have to bear the hard pounding. “I… I’ll do everything… you want.”

God, your words just ascended him right to heaven — the power he had over you was overwhelming — how long he was waiting for it, how long he was dreaming about you saying this. Now, he was going to make you pay for each time you denied him, so you would remember how weak and defenseless you were against him.

Leisurely, he backed into his previous position, his pulsating dick slided out from your abused pussy and that gave you a brief moment to catch your breath.

“(Y/n), my dear (y/n),” he repeated your name like a mantra as if he was trying to hypnotize you. “Show Daddy how obedient you can be.”

Shaking, you got on your knees and turned in his direction to see him biting his lower lip and the next moment you cut the distance between you two to kiss him as hard as you could. When you heard him moaning against your mouth you looped your arms around his broad shoulders, and though you did it to save your reputation, you couldn't deny the fact how utterly handsome this man was. And maybe if you two met under other circumstances, you could really fall for him, but now the only thing that had left for you to do was fuck yourself on his beefy shaft and hoping that he would destroy this cursed tape, so no one would ever see this. If only you could wipe your memory, if only you had listened to the warnings about Patrick Bateman, if only…

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines

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sanjisblackasswife · 1 year

Note

Merry Christmas my queen! 😃

Can I please request headcanons for Sanji, Zoro, and Shanks finding out about their black female S/O’s high libido that she tries to keep hidden due to being shamed by previous partners?

Merry Christmas darling i hope you have a blessed one and of courseee :)😚💓 Thank u! Enjoy!

Edit: I DIDN’T MEAN TO PUT LAW INSTEAD OF SHANKS IM SO SORRY I WASN’T THINKING😭😭😭 Imma make an individual one for him

They Find Out About Your High Libido (NSFW-ISH)

Black Fem Reader

Ft. Zoro, Law, Sanji

CW:, Mentions of toxic ex, a bit of fluff

Sanji

He himself has a high libido so it’s not like he would shame you.

He kinda had a hint that you enjoyed sex as much as he did when everytime he initiated it you never turned him down. At first he thought you didn’t always want it when he did so he did attempt in talking to you about it, but you shy’ed away at first

It was yet again another night of making love and right before Sanji slid inside you, he stopped for a moment to kiss your lips and caress you gently,

He knew this was a bit of bad timing, but it was too heavy on his mind

“You know you can always tell me when you don’t want this…i would never force you.”

You felt embarrassed, but you couldn’t take lying to him anymore or face the worry in his eyes so you explain why you don’t mind having sex every night and WHY you didn’t want to tell him.

Of course he was furious, cursing all the past men you were with that shamed you or in his own words:

“They’re stupid bastards that can’t handle a lady like you that’s all.”

After clarifying he consoles you, reassuring you it’s nothing to be afraid of or embarrassed about, and he becomes your biggest supporter.

And encourager.

Sex with Sanji now actually INCREASED. Whenever you both have free time is time you both spend in the bed or in the bath making the sweetest love. Now that your love cook is aware of your equally high drive he is more than happy to satisfy your needs even if he has to put his to the side. You honestly wish you would have talked to him about it sooner.

Zoro

Zoro straight up asked you about it right after sex.

“We’ve done this like 5 times in a row this week. Somebody is pretty needy.”

You know he meant no harm by it, but it made you grimace a little. Has it really been that many?

“Im…sorry i didnt mean t—“

“You dont have to apologize. No complaints here.” He stretches his arms out for you to rest on his damp chest, “I just didn’t see you as the type to like doing it so much….do you?”

You refused to answer, but Zoro didn’t like that so it earned you a pinch on the butt, “Do you?”

You sigh, hopefully he doesn’t laugh…

“I…i do like doing it alot i just…my ex boyfriend he um…he didn’t like it and he told me i have too much of it and it’s gross and—“

“That skrawny idiot we met on your home island? ! That fucker doesn’t even surprise me he would say that. Probably didn’t last long either…he never made you cum did he…”

“Zo!” You slap him and bury yourself in his neck, he laughs holding you close to make sure he hears you, “…no..he never has….but—“

“I knew it.” He huffs shutting his eyes, “You don’t have to be embarrassed or think it’s gross…I think it’s kinda hot.”

“Zo…”

“As long as we are not in danger or I’m training just come to me, it’s fine….we gatta make up for lost time anyways.”

You were kinda surprised at how sweet Zoro’s words were. You wanted to thank him, but he was long sleep.

Since then not much have changed with how much you guys have had sex, but the performance has definitely improved. Zoro goes down on you more, and you both have more quickies. Sure he still teases you about being needy but its a small price to pay to be under him.

Law

Law actually didn’t think about how needy you were until he kept catching you play with yourself

Now granted. He did find it hot and didn’t mind it. He himself didn’t care for sex that much so it wasn’t a big deal but after a while he started to notice you being touchier when you DON’T play with yourself and don’t have sex.

He figured it out though.

That night he held you in bed to try out a theory to see if he was right.

And he was.

He began to let you kiss and rub all on top of him to the point you started to lose yourself in the pleasure. He never thought you were this excited when it came to having sex. You both don’t do it often.

“Y/N….why haven’t you told me you had a high libido?”

His question made you jump. You were immediately ready to stop and go to sleep but Law held you on his lap tightly. He allows you to explain that you do enjoy having sex a lot, but Law kind of reminded you of your ex of not wanting to have sex so you instead masturbated instead of coming to him so much.

And somehow you insulted the man??

“Y/N…if you ever wanted to have more intimate moments with me all you had to do was ask. We talk things through remember?”

He completely understood. Law didn’t mind it either, he even began to learn more about your body because of this. The sex definitely increased a little more despite the busy schedules and for that Law makes sure to leave you more than satisfied when making love.

You actually became the reason he cares about sex now

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lewisvinga · 7 months

Text

mayores | lewis hamilton x fem! singer! reader

summary; in which y/n’s newest single revealed something new about her

fc; becky g

warning; age gap, mentions of sexual acts

notes; this song is so🙏🙏good i’ve been obsessed ever since it came out , in one of the tweets i meant to type benito but there’s a typo so oopsies 😔😔😔

masterlist !

liked by lewishamilton, lilymhe, and 1,927,039 others!

yourusername: MAYORES. officially out now.

tagged; badbunnypr

username: SONG OF THE YEARRR

username: ate omg

username: on repeat😫

username: who dis about

badbunnypr: por fin😎 [finally]

yourusername: jejeje [hehehe]

username: lewis hamilton in her likes??

username: like xnda and y/n collab when?

nattinatasha: a ti te gustan mayores? 🤔 [do you like them older?]

yourusername: maybe….🤭🤭

username: mother is mothering

username: someone finally put my thoughts into a song thank u madre y/n🙏🙏

liked by yourusername, georgerussell63, and 2,038,269 others!

lewishamilton: (re)start

username: is this a??? soft launch?????

username: the first picture…. wow

username: going feral

username: am i tripping or does that look like y/n????

username: nah ur delusional 😭

username: i’ve been a y/n fan since her shower days, that’s definitely her ☝️☝️

username: i am just a girl omg

username: 😍😍🥵🫠🤤🤤🫨

username: alexa play mayores by y/n l/n

liked by lewishamilton, carmenmmundt, and 1,829,937 others!

yourusername: a little (re)charge after working on mayores, thank u all for the love you’ve been giving me🥹💗💗

carmenmmundt: how have you been liking those face masks i sent😫

yourusername: ugh i adore, we’ve been using them every night 😁💓💓

carmenmmundt: glad you both enjoyed 😉

username: WE???

username: BOTH???

username: my lewy/n heart says they’re together idc

username: he’s only ever liked her posts

username: yeah but in her song mayores she said she likes sirs,,, sir lewis hamilton is way older than her too

username: IS THAT ROSCOE???

username: omg roscoe

username: an actual angel tbh

liked by lewishamilton, georgerussell63, and 2,012,732 others!

yourusername: a mi me gustan mayores. [i like them older]

tagged; lewishamilton

lewishamilton: and i just like you

yourusername: 🤍🤍

georgerussell63: can’t look at lewis in the eyes anymore after translating ur song

yourusername: oopsies 😁

username: OMG THIS IS NOT A DRILL

username: ur telling me mayores was about sir lewis hamilton????

yourusername: maybe 🤭

username: my lewy/n heart WAS RIGHT

username: oh she won in life

username: she?? if anything HE won in life

username: my bi ass is screaming rn

username: not lewis driving y/n around even if he hates driving 😭😭

yourusername: he loves me more than he hates driving 😁

lilymhe: can he— can lewis fight?🤨🤨

lewishamilton: i like to think i am a peaceful man

alex_albon: lily u can’t fight anyone

yourusername: bae👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

#formula one imagines #formula one scenarios #formula one social media au #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 scenario #f1 imagine #f1 smau #lewis hamilton x reader

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querenciasturniolo · 9 months

Text

same ⮕ m.s.

word count: 1.3k

warnings: swearing, crying, anxious thoughts, kissing

summary: nick gives you some much needed advice, and things don’t go according to plan

a/n: (part two to obviously) i wasn’t expecting the amount of love i got for obviously, and i was SO excited for this part two that i tried to get through all of my requests so i could focus on this. thank you, i had SO much fun writing this 💓 i hope i tagged everyone !!!

everything written is completely fictional. the people i write for are written with characteristics and mannerisms that i made for them, this is in no way depicting what would actually happen in real life.

part one || part two

tags: @222-lia , @black-yn , @lvrsparadise , @gwenloremain , @athenalive , @mxriverse , @notmarnaa , @rainsoakedphoenix , @peter-knows-spiderman , @sunflowerchild27 , @strniolo , @jellybeanbby , @oneirophobic , @landryz , @umichlover , @ot5xhabit , @edensocool , @floofparker , @friedfirewagonhorse , @avamartino , @hoshhoshh

You didn’t answer the text.

You tried, you really did. You had ‘yes’ typed out and drafted, but as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You’d pick Nick up from the house, or he’d get an Uber, but you couldn’t step foot in there.

You’d never been one to run away from anything, especially when it could start conflict, but this was…uncharted territory. Matt didn’t text you again after that, but every time Nick saw you, he complained about how Matt was acting like a kicked puppy, and today was no exception.

“I just don’t understand why he’s moping around all the time.” He said, flopping down on your bed and groaning. You couldn’t take hiding this from him anymore, so you sighed and opened your phone, opening the text from Matt and showing Nick. He glanced over, his eyes scanning over the text for longer than it should have taken.

It was quite a few moments before he reacted, but after fully processing it, he shot up and whipped around to face you, eyes wide and mouth agape. “Why haven’t you answered him? It’s no wonder he’s all out of whack!” Nick exclaimed. You knew he didn’t mean it in a mean way, but it still felt like a jab to your chest. You groaned and grabbed a pillow, pulling it over your face to muffle your scream into it. You pulled it away and hugged it close to you.

“I don’t know! I can’t…I can’t bring myself to answer it. I want nothing more than to answer him. Like, if he feels the same way that’s great and we can go from there, but if he doesn’t but still wants to be friends, it’ll be awkward even when I do get over him and, fuck! I don’t know what to do.” You completely let everything out, all of the worry and stress and frustration towards yourself completely diminishing as tears pooled in your eyes and a choked sob left your lips.

The crazy thing was that you knew that your crying wasn’t because you were hurting or sad—it was just such a relief to finally get everything you’d been feeling off of your chest that your body reacted in the only way it could. Nick wasted no time as he pulled you into his arms and held you, letting you get it out of your system before saying anything else.

When the tears finally stopped and your breathing was even, Nick pulled away but kept his hands on your shoulders. His eyes were locked on yours, full of love and care.

“First, never hold anything in like that. I don’t care what the topic is, it’s not worth the pain of keeping it in.” He said, his voice soft but stern. You nodded and wiped at your cheeks. Nick sighed and looked down, pulling his hands to his lap and fidgeting with his fingers before he looked back up. “Second, you should talk to Matt. He’s the only person that can find a solution to this situation that will be good for the both of you. He is the one you should be telling your worries to, because he is the only other person that knows exactly how you are feeling.”

You loved and hated when Nick was right. You knew you could only avoid this without going completely insane for so long, and eventually you’d have to get over yourself and just talk to him, even if it didn’t go well. Regardless of the outcome, you grabbed your phone and finally sent the message, locking it and dropping your phone into your lap.

Nick’s smile was all of the reassurance you needed.

You’d been pacing in your bedroom since Nick left, each minute on your clock going up making your heart race that much faster. Matt had told you he was on his way ten minutes ago, which meant he should be walking into your apartment at any moment, and it was agonizing.

Waiting had never been your strong suit, and the torturously slow build up was the proof. You had decided against doing this a million times, telling yourself that he wasn’t coming and you should just text him nevermind, but then having to convince yourself that he was coming and that you needed to chill out. It was a vicious cycle.

The sound of him knocking on your door made your skin crawl, every atom in your body at attention as you walked through your apartment and hesitated before pulling the door open. Matt was standing there, his eyes darting from the floor to you when you gestured for him to come in. You led him to the couch and sat down, not a word spoken between you until you finally looked into his eyes and word vomited all over the place.

“I understand if you don’t feel the same way, and it’s okay.”

Matt sighed and looked down. “Y/n.” He said, but once you start you can't stop.

“I just don’t want you to feel awkward and there’s this weird tension around every time we’re in the same room.” You said, Matt looking up with his mouth agape.

“What? Y/n—”

You dropped your head and looked into your lap. “I just hate the thought of losing you in any way, I just want you to know that it’s fine and I can get over this so you don’t have to feel wei—”

You were cut off completely when your head was lifted and Matt’s lips were on yours. Both of his hands were cupping your cheeks, his thumbs resting on your cheekbones. It was over soon before you could process it, your eyes opening when he pulled away to see him looking at you sternly.

“Would you shut up for a second?” He said, his voice tinged with the slightest bit of amusement. You nodded once, your wide eyes watching his every movement.

“Now, I want to say that you ignoring me sucked.” He started. You opened your mouth to apologize, but the look on his face had you shutting it completely and waiting for him to finish. “Thank you. It sucked, but it’s okay. I’m just glad that we’re talking now.” He said.You nodded as he sighed and leaned back against the couch. “Now that it seems I’ve made my feelings clear, I have some questions for you.” You nodded again, not fully able to speak yet.

“So, you like me?” He asked. You sighed, nodding reluctantly for the third time. You’d answer the next question out loud, once your heart had left your throat. Matt nodded and looked down, his cheeks pink. “For how long?”

You thought for a moment before scoffing—you couldn’t think of a specific moment. “How long have we known each other?” You asked humorlessly, Matt smiling and lifting his head.

“Where do we go from here?” He asked. You were staring at the pillow separating the two of you, pinching at it and removing nonexistent pieces of lint. You had absolutely no idea. You’d told yourself that you had to convince him that it was okay if he didn’t feel the same so many times, that you didn’t even think about what would happen if he did.

“I don’t know.” You said, finally looking up and meeting his eyes.

Matt was already watching you, his eyes soft and a faint smile on his lips. He hummed and pursed his lips, feigning being hard in thought. You chuckled, shaking your head in amusement as his face lit up.

“How about—we take it slow, and let things happen naturally? The only thing we know for certain is how we feel.” He suggested, your heart racing as you processed the possibilities. “And no overthinking, just go with the flow.” He said, your smile growing as you nodded.

“I can get down with that.”

#matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets

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auras-moonstone · 9 months

Note

hiiii idk if your taking requests but if u are can u please write like a heart breaking angst with jack and the reader but a sweet fluff at the end??? thank you so much <33333

i wrote this while i was on my period and i may have cried 🫣 hope you like it ! 💓

i know i miss you — jack champion

word count: 2,809

pairing: jack champion x fem!reader

summary: the relationship between y/n and jacks starts to fall apart, and y/n can’t take it anymore. when jack stands her up, she makes a decision.

WHEN Y/N FIRST MET JACK ON SET, she was very wary around him. He was charming, sweet, funny, caring—exactly the type she swore she would stay away from. Which is kind of ironic, isn’t it? Because those are qualities you usually look for in a person. But if there was something Y/N knew from working in Hollywood was: don’t fall for celebrities because they don’t have the best schedules for dating and you’ll get your heart broken. And Jack was exactly the type you couldn’t help falling for, so Y/N did her best to stay professional and have the least interaction possible. Did she succeed? Hell no. Jack Champion was the most social person Y/N has ever met.

“Jack, you need to stop talking. I can’t get your make-up done like this!” Y/N said, trying to sound annoyed but couldn’t help chuckling.

“Sorry. I’ll let you work” Jack apologised, his cheeks tinted a soft shade of red.

She melted at the sight. “You know I love talking to you. I didn’t mean it like that” she reassured him, not wanting him to get upset. “But they’re going to call you to do a scene and I’m going to get fired if you’re not ready”.

“Aren’t you being a little bit dramatic?” Jack laughed.

“Well, yeah, a little” she admitted. “And… done!”

“Thank you, you are the best!” he hugged her. “Are you ever going to get me fake blood or fake wounds?”.

“Are you subtly trying to get me to spill if you’re Ghostface or if you’re going to die?” Y/N crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“No! I would never use our friendship to do that!” he acted as if the accusation offended him.

“I’m really offended right now. Our friendship is over” she shook her head as she started cleaning the table.

“Let me buy you dinner tonight? You know, to win your affection back?” Jack spoke nervously, playing with his hands and looking at the back of her head.

Y/N froze. She knew they were walking on a fine line between friendly and flirting, and now he was crossing it. Her last relationship with an actor ended up badly—his interest to maintain their relationship deteriorated with the passing days until there was nothing she could do to save it. Y/N was left heartbroken and swore to herself she was never risking it again.

And then Jack came to her life with his cute dimples, bright eyes and dad jokes and completely swept her off her feet. Y/N fell for him in free fall—not being able to stop at all. And there she was now, unable to say no. Not wanting to say no. So she said yes.

And then one date turned into two, and then three and weeks later they became official. And everything felt perfect for the next few months, like they were inside of a romantic comedy. And life and fiction had one thing in common—the climax. And so the problems in their relationship appeared.

The filming of Scream 6 ended, which meant that Y/N and Jack could no longer see each other every day. They knew this would eventually happen, but they were positive they were going to be fine. Well, Jack was pretty positive, Y/N just hoped with all her heart her relationship with Jack wouldn’t meet the same ending than with her ex-boyfriend. Because she loved Jack with all of her heart, more than she had ever loved anyone else, and it scared her immensely.

The first punch in the heart came two months after they finished Scream 6: Y/N continued working as a make-up artist for movies and Jack had began filming Avatar 4, which required lots of time on set. She understood why his replies didn’t come as quick or why his texts weren’t long. He always made sure to add emojis and exclamation marks to let her know he wasn’t being dry, he just had short amount of time to talk to her—and she thought that was absolutely cute. They mostly face-timed or called each other, but as the production of Avatar continued, Jack grew restless; he arrived home very late and all he wanted to do was rest, so he started sending just texts.

And Y/N was very understanding, she knew how Hollywood worked. Not everything was going to be petals and pink all the time, they were going to have rough paths, especially because of work. What mattered is that both of them were trying their best to keep their relationship sane and intact. Until he stopped trying.

The calls were short and dry—she did most of the talking and he answered briefly. And texts? Well, she sent them but almost never got a reply.

“Y/N” he answered the called, lying on the couch of his trailer.

“Hey, babe! How are you?” she answered. Her phone was on speaker as she gathered her make-up stuff she had just used.

“I can’t really talk right now” he answered.

Y/N frowned “Oh, sorry. I thought you were on a break”

“I am, but you know… breaks are for taking breaks”

“Isn’t that what you are doing?” she asked confused, letting out a small laugh.

Jack sighed, Y/N could hear the irritation in his tone and she knew the fight was about to start “No, I’m not. I’m trying to rest but I know that if I don’t answer your call you’ll keep calling me and I’m tired”.

Y/N pressed her lips in a thin line, feeling like she had just been punched in the throat. “Right… sorry for bothering you. I’ll just… um- bye”.

She ended the call, and covered her head with her hands, letting the sobs escape from her mouth. Her chest felt like it was about to explode as she realized it was happening again.

Y/N left Jack alone for a couple of days, hoping that he would call her back and apologise, or at least be the one who texted first. But as it had been for a long time, Y/N was the one who took the first step.

hey love

hope you’re doing okay. sorry i didn’t text, been busy :(

our anniversary is tomorrow and i just wondered if maybe you’d like to come home to celebrate?

nothing fancy of course, maybe i can make dinner and watch a movie??

i love you 💖

He answered hours later.

hey babe🫶🏻!!

yeah, of course 💕

i’ll be there at 8, if that’s okay? i’ll bring dessert

i love you too💖!!!

Emojis. Exclamation marks. Hope filled her chest, maybe they were going to be alright. She went to bed with a smile on her face.

But the hope was short lived, because the following night, Y/N waited for three hours in the dimly lit kitchen, with dinner in front of her, the scent of the lavender candles surrounding her, with the red dress Jack loved so much on and the playlist they made together resonating in the room.

She checked her phone for the hundredth time, still no response to her texts. It was clear he had forgotten, so totally resigned, she blew the candles out, put the food back in the oven, put her pjs on and went to bed. The playlist—which now played love of my life by queen—still on as she cried herself to sleep. She decided then that it had been the last straw.

Jack arrived at her house at three in the morning. He entered the house, which was completely dark, and went to the kitchen. He stopped in his tracks, seeing the burnt out candles and a note lying in the middle of the table.

i don’t even know if you’re going to come

but the food is in the oven.

He cursed himself for having fallen asleep. The filming took longer than usual, and he just planned to take a thirty minute nap, which turned into five hours of sleeping. Jack’s intention had never been to stand his girlfriend up. In fact, he had prepared a whole speech apologising for having been the absolute worst boyfriend in the world. But he screwed everything up.

Jack walked upstairs carefully, and when he opened their bedroom door, his heart melted and broke at the sight of Y/N. She was sleeping with a frown on her face and dry tears on her cheeks—sign that she had cried herself to sleep, and that made Jack’s eyes water, as if her tears had ricocheted.

The tall boy sat next to her, caressing her cheeks softly while he tried to muffle his cries, but it was impossible. Y/N was the best girlfriend in the world: so patient, so caring, loving, understanding and sweet. And the only thing he had done was hurt her.

“Jack?” her sleepy voice interrupted his thoughts, and he tried to clean his tears fast. “What happened? Are you okay?” the worry in her voice was a punch in the gut. He had stood her up, on their anniversary, and there she was, kind as ever.

“I’m sorry” he sobbed “There’s no excuse, nothing happened to me, I just fell asleep for longer than I wanted. God, I’m sorry, love, I didn’t want this to happen” he grabbed her hand, squeezing it.

“Jack… I wish that I could say it’s okay… but it’s not. I have been so understanding, but clearly work is consuming you. It is your number one focus, and I get it, but that’s not what I need right now. I can’t do this again” her heart felt heavy in her chest, but she needed to do it. “I love you, more than I’ve ever loved anyone, but I think it’s best if we break up… I can’t go on like this”

Jack wanted to fight this decision, tell her how much he loved her, and that he got it now, that he was going to be a better boyfriend because he didn’t want to lose her. But he couldn’t be that selfish. “I understand. I just want you to know that I love you. And I’m really sorry for the hell I have been putting you through for the last few months, you deserve so much better. I loved you, I still do, please never doubt that”

“I know, Jack. Trust me, I do. But your work is important to you, more important than anything. And it’s okay” she tried to smile as she cleaned his tears.

“Can I, if it isn’t too much to ask, give you one last kiss?” he asked hopeful.

Y/N thought about it for a moment, and then nodded. Their last kiss was salty from their tears, and it expressed love, sadness, melancholy and regretfulness. Their fingertips explored everything one last time, trying to memorise the feeling of each other. And when they pulled away, they felt nothing but emptiness. That was it. They were over.

“Goodbye, Jack”

“Bye, Y/N/N”

Jack left the room and the bed that used to be theirs. They both broke down when the door closed, but they did their best to keep quiet so the other wouldn’t hear. This was supposed to be for the best, but it sure didn’t feel right.

Y/N THOUGHT SHE WOULD FEEL AT LEAST A BIT BETTER AFTER HAVING TALKED TO JACK. Spoiler alert, it felt quite the opposite. It hurt more every day. Literally everything reminded her of him. Two days after the breakup she saw the cup he used to drink coffee in and literally cried for thirty minutes straight. She couldn’t listen to music because she always had a way of relating every lyric to him. And sleeping on the bed? Big no. The other side of the bed was cold and it still smelled like him—she always fell asleep on the couch.

Jack wasn’t any better. He messed up his lines more than ever, the food wouldn’t go past his throat, he was always on his phone looking at pictures of Y/N and him or reading their old texts. He was miserable, and everyone noticed.

“How are you feeling, man?” his friend, Romeo, asked. He face-timed Jack every day ever since the break up, wanting to check on him.

Jack sighed, holding his phone “Still the same. Today I heard Last Kiss by Taylor Swift and cried like a baby for hours. That was her favorite song”

“Holy shit, man. I’m tired of seeing you like this. You know what you should do? Go apologise. You had to lose her to realize what a dick you were being, and it sucks, but now you know. Tell her how you really feel. After all, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“Um, her saying that she doesn’t want to see me ever again and that I’m a piece of shit?” Jack asked.

“First of all, Y/N would never say that to you because she loves you. Way too much. Second, you don’t even talk or see each other anymore so what if she says that? It can’t get worse than this, but it can get better”

Jack frowned “You know what? You’re right!”

“Ah, my favorite words” he smiled smugly.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m going to her house now” he said confident.

“Please shower first. I can smell you through the phone” Romeo said right before hanging up.

One hour later, Jack was standing on Y/N’s porche practising what he was going to say to her once he had the courage to ring the bell. He didn’t need to, through, because the door was opened by a very confused Y/N. “What are you doing here?”.

“Oh, hi. I though I didn’t press the bell” he said.

“You didn’t. I saw you through the security camera. Are you okay? You have been standing here talking to yourself for the past ten minutes”.

“You saw that?” Jack blushed from embarrassment. Y/N tried not to laugh as she nodded. “Shit”

Y/N took in his appearance. It had been almost three weeks since the last time they saw each other. His hair was longer, it didn’t have the shape of a mullet anymore but it still looked cute on him, he was as handsome as ever. But the bags under his eyes were very prominent.

“You look… good” Jack said, eyes taking her figure. She, just like him, had bags under her eyes, her hair was in a messy ponytail—which made her look adorable—, and her body was covered by a big cardigan. His heart stopped, it was his cardigan.

“You’re a liar, I look like shit” Y/N said.

“You still manage to look beautiful” he told her. “I’m surprised you aren’t kicking me out, so I’m just going to talk before you change your mind. Y/N, I know I have been the worst boyfriend ever. I didn’t take care of you like I should’ve, as you deserve. I’m sorry I put my work over you, I really regret it. Because, frankly, I miss you more than anything and these weeks have been the worst days of my life. I keep seeing you everywhere, everything reminds me of you. I have been a mess, and I know it’s my fault. But losing you is the worst thing that has ever happened to me. You are one of the most important people in my life, and I’m sorry my actions didn’t show you that. I love you, and I want to try again with you. I know our love is worth fighting for, and that’s why I’m here, I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. In fact, I’m sorry I ever left”.

Y/N wrapped her arms around his waist and cried “I missed you so much. I should’ve said something, I should’ve told you how I felt, maybe we could’ve work it out”

“No, love. Don’t. It’s my fault” he rubbed her back softly, putting his cheek on top of her head.

“I want to try again with you. I do” she said against his chest.

“Really? Are you sure?” he asked surprised. It was more than he deserved, she was more than he deserved.

Y/N laughed “Yes, Jack. I’m very sure”

And so he grabbed her by the cheeks and pressed his lips against hers. They both almost cried at the feeling of the kiss, hours ago they thought they wouldn’t get to do that ever again. The consuming kiss, her palms against his cheeks, his fingers in the back of her neck, the heat of their bodies—it all felt like coming back home after being homesick. When they finally pulled away, they both smiled and pressed their foreheads together.

“Can we take a nap together? I have been having trouble sleeping without you” Jack said, blush coating his pale cheeks.

“Me too” she admitted. “Let’s go. The other side of the bed misses you”

#jack champion #jack champion x y/n #jackchampion #jack champion x reader #jack champion fluff #jack champion oneshot #jack champion imagine #scream iv #ethan landry #jack champion fanfic #ethanlandry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry oneshot

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