his favorite girl

🤍 | she/her | | scorpio 🖋 fic recs, delusions, & dramatic girl behavior 📂 tag me in anything rafe coded or slow burn obsessed 💌 inbox open

[rafeownsmyspine]

💻

about this blog!

hiiii! I LOVE LOVE LOVEEEE to write messy love, delusional obsession, slow burns, and toxic dynamics that are hot in fiction but would get blocked IRL 😞😞

this is a rafe cameron x reader hellhole but other delusional men/women may appear

i’m a shifter + subliminal maker, a SUCKER for tension that makes 10 chapters to break, and i will neverrrr shut up about reader girls with attitude and oblivious of people liking them.

❗what i write:

✔️ slow burn

✔️ angst & emotional tension

✔️ toxic codependent romance

✔️ light degradation (ex: brat, teasing)

✔️ size kink / praise kink / obsession

✔️ dom!character x bratty/sarcastic reader

✔️ rafe cameron supremacy

✔️ smart girls who act clueless but aren’t

✔️ WLW, idk how to write mlm but i’ll try 😭

✔️ fauxcest

✔️ cnc

🚫 HARD NO’S (aka don’t ask me for this)

✘ religious smut

✘ anything involving real trauma i don’t mess with

✘ pet play / age play / anything involving racism or etc

✘ anything against boundaries or that gives ick vibes (blood play, ritualistic, etc)

I DO TRY TO BE OPEN MINDED!!! Requests are open

🎧 you’ll like this blog if you:

• romanticize being the only person he’s soft for

• believe love should be a little unhinged

• want him to lose his mind over you but you’re kinda ignoring him

• like fire pit conversations that end in silence and 10k word chapters with no smut 😉

• have main character syndrome in the best way

🖤 extras

• subliminal posts & shifting stuff coming soon

• fanfic recs + aesthetic edits

• delusional but respectful

[faerydaughter]

lgbt shifters its our month!!! 🗣️ happy pride!!!!

[rafeownsmyspine]

HELLOOOO

should i write about this edit its so goddamn amazing

like this song playing in the back while getting railed🤤🤤

[rafeownsmyspine]

TITLE: ARRHYTHMIA (pt 2)

PAIRING: Latina!Reader x Rafe Cameron

WARNINGS: 18+, eventual smut, slow burn angst, emotional vulnerability, established relationship growing pains, rafe’s unhealed trauma, codependency, substance use (alcohol), fighting, makeup sex

(honestly this has been sitting in my drafts and i’ve decided its tiem to finally clear my drafts😓)

The first month after he chose you was a dream.

He showed up at your apartment at 7 AM with coffee and a smile that reached his eyes for the first time since you'd known him. He took you to dinner in public, his hand on your lower back, his thumb tracing circles against your spine. He introduced you to people as my girlfriend and watched your face light up like he'd just handed you the moon.

You thought that was the hard part. You thought him choosing you was the finish line.

You were wrong.

The first fight happened on a Tuesday.

You'd come over to Tannyhill after work, letting yourself in with the key he'd given you. The house was quiet, too quiet. You found him in the study, a glass of bourbon in his hand, staring at a wall of old photographs.

"Rafe?"

He didn't turn around. "Hey."

You walked up behind him, wrapped your arms around his waist. He went stiff for a second before relaxing into you. "What are you looking at?"

"Nothing."

But you saw it. A photo of him and his mom, taken before she got sick. He was maybe twelve, smiling wide, his arm slung around her shoulder. No tension in his jaw. No darkness behind his eyes. Just a kid who didn't know what was coming yet.

You didn't say anything. You just held him tighter.

"I don't know how to do this," he said finally, his voice barely a whisper. "Be with someone. Not fuck it up."

"You're not fucking it up."

"Not yet." He pulled away, turned to face you. His eyes were red-rimmed. "But I will. I always do. You're gonna wake up one day and realize you made a mistake, and I'm gonna be right back where I started, alone, with nothing."

"Rafe."

"I mean it." His voice cracked. "I'm not— I don't have anything to offer you. I'm a fucking disaster. My dad still looks at me like I'm a disappointment. I have no real friends. I—" He stopped, pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Why would you stay?"

You stepped forward, took his hands, pulled them away from his face. "Because I see you. All of you. The ugly parts too. And I'm still here."

He kissed you like he was drowning.

It wasn't gentle. It was desperate, messy, his hands fisting in your shirt, pulling you against him. He walked you backward until your legs hit the desk, then he lifted you onto it, standing between your thighs, his forehead pressed to yours.

"I don't deserve you," he breathed.

"Stop saying that."

"It's true."

"Then prove me wrong." You tugged at his collar, pulling him closer. "Show me you can do this. Show me you can let me in."

He nodded, his breath shaky. "I'll try."

Trying looked like progress. Then it looked like falling backward.

He was better for a while. Softer. He'd text you good morning and good night. He'd ask about your day and actually listen. He'd hold you on the couch without it leading anywhere, just his fingers tracing patterns on your arm, your head on his chest, the steady thump of his heartbeat under your ear.

But Rafe Cameron didn't know how to sit still in happiness. He didn't trust it.

So he started picking fights.

Small things at first. You left the bathroom light on. You took too long getting ready. You laughed too loud at something Topper said. He'd snap, then apologize, then snap again. Each time, you'd forgive him. Each time, you'd tell yourself it was the adjustment period, that he was learning, that change wasn't linear.

Then you found the baggie.

It was tucked inside his nightstand drawer, underneath a stack of old receipts. You weren't snooping; you'd been looking for a charger—but your hand brushed against it, and you knew immediately what it was.

Your stomach dropped.

You were still holding it when he walked in from the shower, a towel around his waist, water dripping down his chest. He stopped when he saw your face. Saw what was in your hand.

"Baby. That's not—"

"Don't." Your voice was shaking. "Don't lie to me."

He ran a hand through his wet hair. "It's old. From before. I forgot it was there."

"Rafe."

"I swear." He crossed the room, took your face in his hands. His eyes were wide, earnest, desperate. "I haven't touched it. I haven't even thought about it. I was gonna throw it out, I just— I forgot."

You searched his face for the lie. You didn't find one.

But you'd learned, over the months of loving him, that Rafe Cameron could lie with his whole chest. Could look you dead in the eye and tell you the sky was green. Could convince himself of his own bullshit.

"Swear it," you said. "Swear on your mother."

Something flickered in his eyes. Pain. Regret. But he didn't hesitate.

"I swear on my mother."

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. He pulled you into his chest, his arms tight around you, his face buried in your hair.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I'm sorry I scared you. I'm sorry I'm so fucked up."

"Just—" Your voice broke. "Just let me in, Rafe. Stop hiding from me. I can't help you if you won't let me see you."

He was quiet for a long time. Then, so soft you almost missed it:

"I'm scared you'll leave when you really see me."

You pulled back, looked up at him. His eyes were wet. Vulnerable. Like a kid who'd been told one too many times that he wasn't enough.

"I'm not going anywhere," you said. "But you have to stop testing me to see if I will."

He didn't test you after that. Not for a while.

Instead, he let you in.

He told you about his mom—really told you. About watching her fade, about the way Ward had checked out emotionally, about how he'd had to be the man of the house at fourteen. About the first time he tried coke, at a party on Figure Eight, how it made the noise in his head go quiet for the first time in years.

He cried when he told you. Great, heaving sobs that shook his whole body. And you held him through it, your hand in his hair, your voice soft and steady.

"I've got you," you whispered. "I've got you."

That night, he made love to you like you were something holy.

Slow. Tender. His hands mapping every inch of your skin, his mouth tracing patterns on your neck, your collarbone, the curve of your hip. He whispered your name like a prayer, over and over, his forehead pressed to yours, his breath mixing with yours.

"You're so beautiful," he said, his voice wrecked. "So fucking beautiful. I don't— I can't believe you're mine."

You pulled him down, kissed him deep, let your legs wrap around his waist. He moved inside you slow, deep, his hands cupping your face, his eyes locked on yours.

"Tell me you're mine," he breathed.

"I'm yours."

"Say it again."

"I'm yours, Rafe. Always."

He buried his face in your neck, his body shuddering as he came, and you held him through it, your nails raking gently down his back, your lips pressed to his temple.

Afterward, he didn't pull away. He stayed inside you, his weight on top of you, his face tucked into your shoulder. His breathing was ragged, uneven.

"I love you," he said. So quiet you almost missed it.

Your heart stopped.

"What?"

He pulled back, looked at you. His eyes were red, vulnerable, terrified. "I love you. I've loved you for so long. I was just too scared to say it."

Tears slipped down your cheeks. "I love you too."

He kissed you again, softer this time. Like a promise.

But promises, you'd learn, were fragile things in Rafe Cameron's hands.

A/N: i honestly didn’t know how to end this😭😭 i might make it into a fic, but pleasepleaseplease leave suggestions!!! they help so muchhh

[rafeownsmyspine]

arrhythmia pt 22222222 pt was so good holy moly latina!reader is 👩‍🍳💋

omg queen why am i just seeing this

i will def write pt 2

(this was a draft i didnt publish until finished writing… SOOO SORRYY)

[rafeownsmyspine]

GUYS IDK WHAT TO WRITE I HAVE SO MUCH IDEAS (YES IK I DONT TYPICALLY WRITE FOR THESE PEOPLE)

what should i write

jasper cullen smut

gym/fratjo one shot

mud on my boots blood on your jacket new chapter

obx smau

jjk smau

Voting ended onMay 5

[bimboladybug]

What its like as a teenage girl to read smut and they put mdni

[madicineheals]

NO LIKE WORK LIKE A JOB #ShiftingISafulltimejob

[glowbuggg]

Hypnagogia cheat code, shift within seconds! Is it possible? 👀

Hi guys!

Okay, first things first: the title is technically true, but this is not a magical instant-shift hack. It’s still something you practice and get familiar with. What it does give you is a very clean door into lucidity, or shifting.

Go to sleep as usual.

It works best on a free day, since this does slightly disturb your sleep.

Set an alarm for about 4 hours after falling asleep, that’s when dreams are usually vivid.

Important part: the alarm should turn off by itself after a few seconds. Use an app if needed. The sound should be short and gentle. Cause it's different than wake up to bed technique.. You don't get out of bed.

When you wake up, don’t move.

Don’t sit up, don’t check anything, don’t wake yourself fully. You should be just a breath away from falling back asleep.

Stay still and find a quick anchor: focus on your breathing, or start counting softly in your head.

*If you feel like you won't be able to not fall asleep immadiately no matter what you do, you can gently move your fingers or hand. And then stop moving again. Experiment with is cause everyone is different.

From there, gently bring in your DR scene.

If it feels stable, you can engage your senses a little, but don’t force it and don’t “grab” the scene. Holding too hard wakes you up.

Another option is to simply keep a soft image or vibe present and start thinking as your DR self. Let your body fall asleep fully while your awareness follows the scene.

Believe you are already there.. Even if you feel your CR body it doesn't matter, the surroundings around your awarness will change.. Not around your CR body. So you can feel your CR while your awarness is drifting to your DR.

It should be a very quick and smooth transition if done properly.

This works especially well if you’re already prone to hypnagogia, lucid dreams, or those moments where dreamland feels right there when you wake up.

Good luck 🤍

Your Glowbug 🪲✨

[houseofcupids]

DIRTY LITTLE SECRET〻ᯇ # rafe cameron

04. doomed | smau+irl | masterlist — previous — next

IN WHICH ✶ Rafe Cameron is the last person Y/n should ever be acquainted with—her friend’s older brother, a cocky Kook, and the guy her and her friends despise most. He doesn’t want to get caught with a Pogue, and she doesn’t want to be caught with a Kook—especially him. But no matter how wrong it is, she’s still his dirty secret… and he’s hers.

You were practically running laps in Rafe’s head. He couldn’t shake the thought of you—hadn’t been able to since last week, when he felt the shift between you two.

“Fuck…” Rafe muttered under his breath, eyes glued to the messages on his screen, already starting to regret his genius idea to act like an asshole so you’d pull away first. He kept typing, then deleting, typing again—hoping you couldn’t see the stupid three dots popping up and disappearing.

“Rafe!” Indiana shouted as she walked into the house, slamming the patio door behind her. “Why are you moping in here?” she asked, circling the kitchen island to grab snacks from the cabinet. Her eyes flicked to him. “Topper said you’ve got your panties in a twist today.”

“Topper can kiss my ass,” Rafe scoffed, shaking his head. He locked his phone and tossed it onto the counter.

Indi had noticed he’d been off lately. She’d always been good at reading people—especially him.

“Did something happen?” She nodded toward his phone. “You’ve been on that thing all day. Like, more than usual.” She dragged out the last part for emphasis.

“It’s nothing.” Rafe shook his head, brushing it off.

“Yeah, right,” Indi laughed. “You’ve been weird all week. Did Ward say something to you? Or what?” She leaned against the counter, clearly not letting it go.

Rafe hesitated. His mouth opened like he was about to speak, then shut just as fast. He didn’t know how to say it.

“If I tell you—you seriously can’t say shit. Got it?” He held up a finger in warning. “Like seriously. If I find out you opened your big mouth to Topper—or even Kelce, who has an even bigger fucking mouth—I will kill you.”

Indi laughed in his face, knowing he was bluffing. “Shut up, idiot. You know I won’t say anything.” She slid into the seat beside him, grinning.

“There’s this girl I’ve been messing with—maybe for like… two months?” Rafe exhaled. “I—I think I like her. Like, for real like her.” He glanced at Indi, waiting for her reaction.

“Y/n?” Indi guessed, and Rafe’s face fell slightly.

“How the fuck do you know that?” His voice rose a notch as he shot her a scowl.

“I just put two and two together.” She laughed out loud.

Rafe stared at her like she’d just committed a crime. “There is no two and two,” he shot back quickly. “You’re just making shit up.”

“Please.” Indi rolled her eyes, popping a chip into her mouth. “You go dead quiet every time she walks into a room. And you look at her like you’re either about to fight her or kiss her. There’s not really an in-between.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Rafe.” Her tone softened just slightly. “Everyone knows how much you hate pogues, but you don’t seem to hate her.”

He dragged a hand down his face, frustrated. “It’s not that simple—and-and I don’t hate pogues, I'm not like Topper and Kelce.

“Then what is it?” Indi leaned her elbow on the counter, chin in her hand. “Because from where I’m sitting, you look…stressed—and not in your usual ‘Let me go snort a line of coke to make things better’ way.”

He hesitated again, glancing at his phone like it might light up with your name at any second.

“It’s just—” He exhaled sharply. “She makes it complicated.”

“Why, ‘cause she’s a pogue?” Indi questions, raising a brow.

Rafe let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. “I don’t give a fuck that she’s a Pogue. It’s not—” He cut himself off, frustrated, running a hand through his hair. “It’s more complicated than that.”

Indi gave him a look that said she wasn’t buying it. “Rafe. Stop lying to yourself.” Her voice wasn’t teasing anymore. “Part of you is ashamed. Maybe not of her—but of what it means. Just own that.”

His jaw tightened. “It’s not just that,” he muttered. “She’s Sarah’s friend. How the hell am I supposed to tell my sister I’m fucking her best friend?”

Indi winced. “Okay—first of all, maybe don’t phrase it like that.”

Rafe ignored her, pacing a step away from the counter. “Sarah and I already barely talk without it turning into a fight. She already thinks I’m the bad guy in every situation. If I tell her this?” He scoffed under his breath. “She’ll think I’m messing with her friend just to prove some kind of point.”

Indi studied him for a second. “So don’t make it about that.”

Rafe looked at her like she’d grown a second head. “What does that even mean?”

“It means,” she said evenly, “if you actually like this girl—if it’s real—then stop acting like it’s some dirty secret you have to confess. That’s what’s making it worse.”

“But it is a dirty secret,” Rafe muttered, quieter now. “For me and for Y/N.” He paused, jaw flexing. “That’s how this all started. We promised it would stay between us.” He let out a frustrated sigh, dragging a hand down his face.

Indi just shrugged. “Well. You lost.”

“No fucking shit, dumbass,” Rafe scoffed, snatching the bag of chips out of her hands.

She laughed, unfazed. “You caught feelings. That’s not losing—that’s just inconvenient.”

He rolled his eyes, but he didn’t argue.

“Inconvenient doesn’t even cover it,” he muttered. “If this blows up, it screws everything. Her friendships. My already shitty relationship with Sarah. The whole damn island loves picking sides.”

Indi leaned back against the counter, watching him spiral. “So what are you actually scared of?” she asked. “That people find out? Or that she might decide she doesn’t wanna be your secret anymore?”

That one hit.

Rafe went still, chip halfway to his mouth.

“She wouldn’t—” he started automatically, then stopped. Because he didn’t actually know that.

Indi raised a brow. “Exactly.”

He clenched his jaw, tossing the chip back into the bag like it suddenly tasted like cardboard. “I just don’t wanna screw this up.”

“I think I like her.”

The words came out quieter than everything else he’d said—less defensive, less angry. Just honest.

Indi didn’t tease him this time.

She tilted her head slightly. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I figured.”

Rafe let out a slow breath, like admitting it had taken something out of him. “It’s different with her.” He stared down at the counter, jaw tight. “It wasn’t supposed to be. It was just—fun. Easy. No strings.”

“And now?” Indi asked.

“And now I’m checking my phone like an idiot every five seconds.” He huffed out a dry laugh. “Now I’m thinking about telling Sarah. About not hiding it. About—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “That’s not me.”

Indi crossed her arms. “Maybe it is.”

He shot her a look.

“What?” she shrugged. “You act like caring about someone makes you weak or something. It doesn’t.”

Rafe’s expression hardened slightly. “It does if it gives people leverage.”

“You gotta stop thinking like that.” Indi shakes her head, her voice reassuring. “You can’t put walls up every time you feel someone gets too close.”

“That’s the thing,” Rafe said, voice strained. “I’ve never felt like this before. Not with anyone. It’s just her.” He dragged his palm down his face like he could wipe the confession away.

Indi didn’t look surprised.

“Are you still seeing other girls?” she asked.

He gave a tight nod. “Yeah. You know I am. Everyone knows I am.”

“And does Y/N know that?”

“Of course she does,” he answered automatically.

Indi held his gaze. “Did you tell her? Or does she just… know the reputation?”

That made him hesitate.

“We never said we were anything,” he muttered. “It’s not like I promised her shit.”

“But you promised her secrecy,” Indi pointed out.

His jaw flexed.

“That’s different.”

“Is it?” she challenged softly.

Rafe pushed off the counter, pacing a few steps like the kitchen suddenly felt too small. “She knew what this was when it started. Sneaking around. No strings. No drama.”

“And now?”

He stopped walking.

“Now I don’t wanna be with anyone else,” he admitted, quieter. “But I also don’t know how to stop being who I’ve been.”

Indi’s expression shifted—less teasing, more understanding.

“So you’re scared,” she said simply.

“I’m not scared.”

“You are,” she insisted. “You’re scared that if you drop the other girls, people will notice. And if people notice, they’ll start asking why. And if they start asking why, it leads back to her.”

Rafe didn’t respond.

Because she wasn’t wrong.

“Maybe I should just cut it off,” Rafe muttered, staring at the floor. “Before it turns into something I can’t control.” He swallowed hard. “She deserves a guy who won’t screw her over. And I don’t trust myself not to.”

Indi went very still, then let out a slow breath through her nose.

“God, you’re such an idiot,” she muttered.

Rafe shot her an annoyed look. “I’m trying to do the right thing.”

“No,” she said firmly. “You’re trying to avoid feeling something that scares you.”

He scoffed. “I’m not scared.”

“You are,” she countered immediately. “You’re scared that if this turns into something real, you’ll screw it up. So you’d rather end it now and tell yourself it was for her own good.”

Rafe’s jaw flexed. “You don’t know that.”

“I do,” she said. “Because if you really thought she deserved better, you’d try to be better. Not walk away.”

That one landed.

He looked away, silent.

Indi stepped closer, lowering her voice. “You don’t get to decide you’re bad for her and make that choice on her behalf. She’s not some fragile thing you need to protect from yourself.”

He ran a hand through his hair again, frustrated. “I just don’t wanna be the guy that ruins her.”

“Then don’t ruin her,” Indi shot back. “Communicate. Be honest. Stop hiding behind the whole ‘this is just a secret fling’ excuse.”

Silence stretched.

“And if you end it,” she said, softer this time, “Let it be because you don’t want her. Not because you’re scared of how much you do.”

Rafe looked away, jaw ticking.

Indiana didn’t give him the chance to disappear into his head again. She grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward the patio doors. “Alright. That’s enough doom and gloom for one afternoon.”

‘The dock’, You didn’t need him to clarify—you already knew exactly which one he meant.

You slipped into your worn-out flip-flops, shoved your phone into the pocket of your sweatpants, and eased the screen door open. Wincing at the faint creak, you carefully pulled it shut behind you, slow and gentle, making sure no one inside woke up.

The overgrown grass in your front yard brushed against your arms as you lifted your old bike off the ground. You swung your leg over the seat and started pedaling, heading straight for the dock by the boneyard.

The chain on your bike clicked with every push of the pedals, loud in the quiet of the night. The dock came into view slowly, the wood pale under the moonlight, water shifting beneath it. A faint silhouette stood at the edge, shoulders tense, like he’d been there for a while.

You slowed as you reached the edge of the sand, letting the bike fall gently into the grass. The world felt too quiet all of a sudden—just the distant crash of waves from the boneyard and the soft knock of water against the dock posts.

“Hey,” you say quietly as you walk down the worn, splintering wood toward where Rafe’s standing.

“Hey.” He turns, finally facing you.

He’s dressed like he always is—some polo paired with tan khakis, Birkenstocks that look fresh out of the box. So put together yet not—it almost makes you roll your eyes.

“You wanted to talk?” you ask, shoving your hands into your pockets so he can’t see your fingers twisting together.

“Yeah. Sit.” Rafe gestures to the dock and lowers himself down first. You follow, settling beside him.

He glances over as you adjust your posture, sitting up straighter while you pull the rolled joint from one pocket and a lighter from the other.

“Talk,” you say, placing it between your lips. You flick the lighter, bringing the flame to the end and inhaling slowly, the tip burning bright as you draw in the smoke.

“Sorry about being such an asshole earlier.” Rafe started, watching the smoke leave your mouth. “Something came up and I took it out on you.” He lied, using some half-ass excuse hoping you don’t catch on.

“Yeah. You were being an asshole.” You grin a little as you pass him the joint. “Didn’t realize being concerned about your well-being made me desperate.”

You nudge his shoulder lightly with yours, a quiet laugh slipping out.

You watch as he brings the joint to his lips, wrapping them around it and inhaling slowly. The tip glows for a second before he exhales, smoke fading into the dark sky.

For a second, neither of you say anything.

He keeps his eyes on the water instead of you, elbow resting on his knee, joint dangling loosely between his fingers. The tension from earlier hasn’t really gone anywhere—it’s just sitting there, heavy, unspoken.

“You aren’t desperate. Not at all,” he mutters after a second. “I just… have a habit of self-destructing.” He says it like a joke, and it pulls a small laugh out of you.

“I can tell,” you smile. “So, what’d you do today?” you ask, genuinely curious as you take the joint from his fingers and lift it to your lips.

“Nothing much. The guys came over—Indi too. We just drank and hung out by the pool.” He shrugs, like it’s just another regular summer day. “You?”

“Just went surfing and smoked some weed,” You hum. “Nothing crazy.”

“Same old, same old,” Rafe mutters, and you nod in agreement.

“Yeah, basically.”

The joint is almost gone now. You take a couple more hits before handing it back to him. “Here. Finish it.”

He takes it from you, your fingers brushing for a second before he brings it to his lips. He inhales, slow and steady, then exhales toward the water. When it’s done, he flicks what’s left off the dock, watching it disappear below.

Rafe leans back on his hands, eyes dragging over you like he’s debating something. “I—,” he says, but pauses like he doesn’t know what to say.

You tilt your head slightly. “What?”

He huffs out a quiet breath, almost frustrated with himself. “I don’t know how to not screw this up.”

You don’t say anything, just wait.

“I push,” he continues, staring straight ahead. “That’s what I do. When something starts to matter, I find a way to ruin it before it ruins me.”

Your throat feels tight. “Is that what you were doing?”

He nods once. “Yeah.”

You take a second, trying to piece the words together before they come out wrong. “Do you… want us to be more?” you finally ask.

“I—I don’t know what I want us to be,” he stumbles, running a hand through his hair. “All I know is you make me feel some type of way, and I don’t like it. It’s new. It’s weird.” The words start spilling out faster, tripping over each other as he rambles.

You can’t help it—you find it kind of endearing.

You watch him trip over his own words, eyebrows pulling together like he’s frustrated with himself. It’s almost cute—seeing him this undone, this unsure.

You soften a little. “It’s okay if it’s new.”

He shakes his head. “That’s the problem. I don’t do new. I don’t do feelings. I don’t do…” He gestures between you. “Whatever this is.”

You raise a brow. “And what is this?”

He looks at you for a long second, like the answer’s sitting right there but scares him to admit. “It’s not just hooking up,” he says quietly. “And that’s what’s messing with me.”

Your heart thuds a little harder at that.

“It’s different with you,” he adds, almost under his breath, like he doesn’t want the night to hear it.

“Let it be different,” you say quietly.

Rafe doesn’t respond right away. He just sits there, staring out at the water. You don’t rush him or search his face for an answer—you let the silence settle naturally. After a minute, his shoulders loosen slightly, like he’s not used to being given that kind of space. He appreciates it.

“Wanna swim?” you ask suddenly, breaking the tension.

You’re already pulling your top over your head, leaving yourself in just your bra as you stand.

Rafe glances up at you, eyes lingering for a second before he nods. “Yeah.”

You shimmy your sweatpants down your legs, stepping out of them and leaving them in a small pile on the dock. He stands too, slipping off his Birkenstocks and tugging his shorts down, tossing his polo on top of your clothes.

Before he can say anything else, you’re already jumping off the edge, the cool water rushing up to meet you.

The water is shockingly cool against your skin, stealing the air from your lungs for a second before you resurface with a sharp breath and a laugh.

A second later, there’s a splash behind you.

“Shit—that’s cold,” Rafe mutters as he comes up, slicking his hair back out of his face.

You grin, swimming closer to him. “You said yeah.”

He rolls his eyes, but there’s no real bite to it. Moonlight reflects off the ripples between you, the dock looming just overhead.

You slide your arms around his neck, and he pulls you in without hesitation, his hands settling at your waist beneath the cool water.

“I don’t know how to let things be different,” Rafe admits quietly. “Not the way you do. I can’t just drop my old habits. I don’t know how to stop being… me. How to stop losing control. How to not be so pissed off all the time. How to—”

“How to stop hooking up with other girls?” you cut in with a small grin, a little teasing edge to your tone. “Just something to think about.”

A soft laugh slips from you, but your eyes stay on his.

He huffs, shaking his head slightly.

“You can’t commit,” you say more seriously now. “Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

Rafe doesn’t answer right away. His hands stay at your waist, but his grip softens, thumbs brushing back and forth like he’s grounding himself.

“It’s not that I can’t commit,” he says after a second, voice low. “It’s that I don’t trust myself to keep it steady.”

You hold his gaze. “Steady how?”

“I get bored. I get angry. I push people away before they can leave me.” He exhales, shaking his head slightly. “It’s easier to mess something up on purpose than wait for it to fall apart.”

“And it doesn’t exactly help that you’re a Pogue,” he admits. “And my sister’s best friend.”

You nod, because you understand. That was the whole reason you’d wanted to keep this quiet in the first place. Him being Sarah’s brother—and an insufferable Kook—already made it complicated enough.

“Doomed from the start,” you say, almost teasing.

“Yeah,” Rafe murmurs. “That’s usually how my stories go.”

You smile at him gently, feeling how stiff he still is under your touch.

“Relax,” you say quietly. “We both agreed this was just a secret little thing.”

He doesn’t look away.

“It was supposed to be easy,” you add. “No complications. Just fun. Just us, without dragging the whole island into it.”

Your hands slide lightly over his jawline. “You don’t have to overthink it every time it starts to feel real.”

“How can you say that?” Rafe asks, his voice tighter now—almost pleading. “Do you not feel anything for me?”

You exhale softly, shaking your head.

“Of course I feel something for you,” you admit. “If anything, I feel too much.”

His expression shifts at that—like he wasn’t expecting you to say it so easily.

“But that’s exactly why I’m not freaking out,” you continue, your voice calmer than you actually feel. “Because if I let myself spiral every time this gets complicated, we’d never make it past a week.”

You glance down at the water between you before looking back at him.

“I know what this is. I knew what this was when we started.”

Your fingers tighten slightly at the back of his neck. “That doesn’t mean I don’t feel it. It just means I’m choosing not to let it scare me.”

“Just let it flow,” you say softly. “Let the universe figure it out for us.”

That earns you a look.

Rafe huffs a quiet laugh, rolling his eyes in that familiar, playful way he always does whenever you start talking like that.

You lean in, and your lips meet his without hesitation. The kiss is immediate and familiar, heated but soft at the same time, his hands holding your waist tight as the water rocks gently around you.

masterlist — previous — next

note; how does the pacing feel? i can’t tell if it feels fast or not, lmk if you guys like it!

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[rafeownsmyspine]

TITLE: ARRYTHMIA

PAIRING: latina!reader x toxic!rafe

WARNINGS: smut, kinda angsty idk, toxic rafe, mentions of drug usage, profanity

SUMMARY:In which, latina!reader feels lead-on and confused on what they are. (inspired by heartbeat - childish gambino)

WORDCOUNT: 6.5k (ive never weote this much😭😭)

(one shot… maybe ;) )

The bass was loud enough to shake the floorboards, the scent of alcohol and weed clinging to the air like humidity.

But you felt him before you saw him.

Rafe Cameron never missed a party you were at.

It didn’t matter if it was a rival frat — Alpha Tau Omega, Kappa Sigma, somewhere he swore he’d never step foot in. If your sorority was invited, Rafe would show up eventually. Like clockwork. Like a habit he couldn’t break.

You tried to pretend it was coincidence.

It never was.

You weren’t even supposed to be here. You barely knew anyone in your sorority; except Sofia.

Your best friend.

His girlfriend.

That part should’ve stopped you.

But it didn’t.

Because every time you brought her up, he’d shrug like she was a business deal instead of a person. Convenience. Status. Something safe.

“She’s not my real girlfriend”

Yeah, she had a key to his apartment.

But she didn’t have him.

And somehow, that lie was enough to keep you close.

Tonight, you looked deliberate.

Not accidental pretty. Not effortless. Intentional.

Your usual waves had been smoothed into a silky blowout, long and controlled down your back. A denim mini skirt hugged your hips, leopard tank fitted just right, the brown puffer jacket slipping off one shoulder like you couldn’t be bothered to adjust it. Gold jewelry caught the strobe lights — luminous against your skin.

You sat tucked into the corner of the couch, legs crossed, posture steady. Chin lifted. Composed.

Red solo cup in one hand. Phone in the other.

Detached.

Events like this exhausted you. The constant smiling. The meaningless conversations. The noise pressing against your ribs until it felt suffocating.

Unlike Sofia.

Sofia thrived in it.

She was already halfway across the room, laughing too loud, red satin dress catching the lights, hair falling perfectly down her back like she hadn’t tried at all. Radiant. Carefree.

Effortless.

You watched her for a second longer than necessary.

Then you felt it again.

That weight.

Across the room, Rafe stood near the kitchen island, a shot of whiskey loose in his hand.

He wasn’t laughing.

He wasn’t talking.

He was watching you.

Volatile energy radiated off him — restless, wired, something almost unhinged beneath the surface. Smoke clung faintly to his clothes. His jaw ticked once. Twice.

He lifted the glass to his lips but didn’t drink.

Set it back down.

Picked it up again.

His leg bounced.

Knuckles whitening slightly around the rim.

Like he was debating something.

Like walking over to you would either ruin everything —

or finally make it worse.

He was used to control.

You were the one thing he couldn’t control.

And Rafe Cameron hated that you never chased him.

You didn’t look at him.

You knew better.

Because the second your eyes met, his pulse would start hammering — and you’d feel it from across the room.

Addictive.

Magnetic.

Inevitable.

And you were so tired of pretending you weren’t already spiraling with him.

Rafe doesn’t hesitate this time.

The glass in his hand empties in one swallow, his throat tightening as the whiskey burns down his chest. He sets it down harder than necessary, like he needs the impact, and starts walking toward you with a focus that makes the space around him feel thinner. The crowd parts without meaning to — or maybe he just moves through it like it doesn’t matter.

You feel it before you look up.

The shift in energy. The way the air feels charged, like before a storm cracks open the sky.

When your eyes finally lift from your phone, he’s already halfway there.

He doesn’t look drunk. He looks decided. His shoulders are squared, jaw tight, eyes darker than they were a minute ago. There’s something intense in the way he watches you — not casual curiosity, not playful flirting. Something more deliberate. Like he’s been fighting this all night and finally lost.

Your fingers tighten slightly around the red cup, condensation dampening your skin. You don’t uncross your legs. You don’t straighten your jacket. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of reacting.

He stops in front of you, close enough that you can smell the whiskey on his breath mixed with cologne and smoke. It’s subtle, but it lingers — warm, heavy.

For a moment, he just looks at you.

Not your outfit. Not your jewelry. You.

Like he’s trying to read something off your face.

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he says quietly, voice rougher than usual.

You tilt your head, unimpressed. “You’ve been busy.”

Your eyes flick past him, briefly landing on Sofia across the room, laughing with some random guy who’s clearly too close. The music swells again, bass vibrating through the couch beneath you.

His jaw tightens at that — not because you looked at Sofia, but because you did it so calmly.

“I came over here, didn’t I?” he says.

And there it is. That edge.

Before you can answer, a hand lands on his shoulder — firm, careless.

Topper.

He’s already grinning, already leaning too hard into Rafe’s space, pupils blown just slightly. “Bathroom. Now,” he mutters, low enough that it’s not meant for you.

Rafe doesn’t turn immediately. His eyes stay locked on yours.

You watch the irritation flicker through him — a flash of annoyance that someone dared interrupt him. His hand flexes at his side like he’s resisting the urge to shake Topper off.

“I’m in the middle of something,” Rafe says, not breaking eye contact.

Topper laughs under his breath. “You’ve got time.”

The tension shifts.

You see it — the pull. The habit. The easier choice.

Your expression doesn’t change, but something tightens in your chest as Rafe glances toward the hallway for half a second. The music, the noise, the chaos — it’s calling him. It always does.

When he looks back at you, there’s something almost frustrated in his eyes. Like he hates that this moment feels heavier than it should.

“I’ll be back,” he says, but it’s quieter now. Less confident.

He lets Topper tug him away.

And as he disappears down the hallway, you exhale slowly, forcing your grip on the cup to loosen.

Because he did come over.

He just couldn’t stay.

And somehow that hurts more than if he hadn’t tried at all.

The bathroom door barely latches before Topper is already moving, already talking, already wiping his nose with the back of his hand like he’s about to tell the funniest story of his life.

Rafe doesn’t sit. He doesn’t lean. He plants his hands on the marble counter and stares at his reflection like it personally offended him.

Topper snorts under his breath, still riding whatever buzz he came in with. “You saw the way she was sitting out there?” he says, grinning. “Like she hates everybody. It’s kinda hot.”

Rafe doesn’t respond.

Topper keeps going anyway. “Man, she always looks like she’s judging the entire room. Like she’s too good for this place.”

That earns him a look.

Sharp. Immediate.

“Shut up,” Rafe mutters.

Topper laughs at that — not loud, but entertained. “What? I’m just saying. She doesn’t look at you the way Sofia does.”

The name makes Rafe’s jaw flex.

Topper tilts his head. “Sofia looks at you like you hung the moon. Your girl’s friend? She looks at you like she’s debating whether you’re worth her time.”

Rafe hates that he knows exactly what he means.

Because you do.

You never rush toward him. You never cling. You never hover around him waiting for scraps of attention. If anything, you’re colder the closer he gets.

It makes his chest feel tight in a way he doesn’t like.

Topper leans back against the sink, watching him. “You’re actually pressed.”

Rafe straightens slightly. “I’m not pressed.”

Topper grins wider. “Yeah? Then why were you staring at her like that?”

Rafe says nothing.

Topper’s tone shifts — less teasing, more matter-of-fact. “You know she made out with that lacrosse captain last week, right?”

And there it is.

It’s not said dramatically. Not whispered like a secret. Just dropped casually, like a piece of gossip that doesn’t mean anything.

But it lands heavy.

Rafe’s fingers curl against the counter. Subtle. Almost unnoticeable.

Topper shrugs. “Back patio. After the game. Whole team was out there. She didn’t look mad about it either.”

He laughs again — this time at the memory. “Dude had her pinned against the railing like it was some rom-com scene. I thought you knew.”

The image builds without Rafe’s permission.

Your hand on someone else’s chest.

Your mouth tilted up.

Someone else’s fingers at your waist.

The thought is immediate. Violent. Possessive in a way that feels irrational.

He pushes off the counter.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” he says flatly.

Topper studies him. “You sure?”

Rafe drags a hand down his face.

He shouldn’t care.

You’re not his.

He has Sofia.

You’ve never promised him anything.

But the idea of someone else touching you — claiming even a second of you — makes something inside him twist.

Not jealousy. He won’t call it that.

Something uglier.

He exhales sharply, pacing now. The room feels smaller. Warmer. Too loud even with the door shut.

Topper snorts. “Man, you’re acting like she cheated on you.”

Rafe shoots him a look that shuts him up instantly.

There’s something off in Rafe’s eyes now — not anger exactly. Something more unsettled. Like the ground shifted beneath him and he didn’t see it coming.

Because you didn’t wait around for him.

You never do.

Meanwhile

Out in the living room, you’ve stopped checking the hallway.

At first, you told yourself you were just giving him space. Then you realized that was a lie.

You were waiting.

And you hate that about yourself.

The music feels louder now. Sofia’s laugh cuts through the room, high and bright. You glance over to see her dancing with some guy who’s leaning in too close, hands low on her hips. She doesn’t look like she minds.

You look away.

Your phone screen lights up with nothing important.

No new texts.

No missed calls.

Of course.

You adjust your jacket, suddenly feeling ridiculous for sitting here like this. For letting your mood depend on whether a boy decides to come back from a bathroom.

Respétate.

You stand up slowly, smoothing your skirt down your thighs. Your reflection in the black TV screen looks calm. Composed. Untouched.

You don’t announce you’re leaving. You don’t search for him.

You just slip out the front door.

Cold air hits your bare legs, clearing your head instantly. Your heels click steady against the pavement, each step grounding you more than the music ever could.

You don’t look back.

He doesn’t text you at the party.

That would make it obvious.

When Topper says you probably left, Rafe just nods once like it doesn’t hit. Like he expected it. Like he doesn’t care whether you waited or not.

He even laughs once — short, dismissive — when Topper makes some comment about you being “dramatic.”

“Whatever,” Rafe mutters.

But he checks the front porch anyway.

Just in case.

Your car’s gone.

That’s when something settles wrong in his stomach.

He tells himself it’s fine. He tells himself you do this all the time — you disappear when he disappears. You don’t beg. You don’t hover. You don’t wait outside bathrooms like Sofia would.

You leave.

And that’s what makes it worse.

He stays another fifteen minutes, maybe twenty. Talks to people he doesn’t register. Finishes another drink. Pretends he’s still part of the room.

But every time someone laughs too loud, every time he sees a girl in a mini skirt from the corner of his eye, his brain flashes back to what Topper said.

Back patio.

Pinned against the railing.

Her mouth tilted up.

His jaw tightens again.

It shouldn’t bother him this much.

You’re not his.

He has a girlfriend.

But the more he tries to act normal, the more restless he feels. His body is buzzing in a way that’s no longer fun. The coke has sharpened everything — his thoughts, his anger, his want.

Especially his want.

By the time he leaves, the air outside feels too thin.

His house is quiet when he walks in.

Too quiet.

Sofia’s not there tonight — she mentioned sleeping at her place earlier. He’d barely listened at the time.

Now the silence feels louder than the party did.

He tosses his keys on the counter. The sound echoes.

He moves through the living room aimlessly, running a hand through his hair, then pacing back. The adrenaline hasn’t worn off. His skin feels tight. His chest feels wrong — pulse skipping, then racing, then settling too slow before jumping again.

Arrhythmic.

He drops onto the couch, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor.

He imagines you walking home.

Imagines someone pulling up next to you.

Imagines that lacrosse captain again.

The jealousy isn’t loud. It’s simmering. Territorial in a way that feels ugly and instinctive.

He stands abruptly and walks to the kitchen. Grabs water. Doesn’t drink it. Sets it down.

He hates that you left without looking for him.

He hates that you didn’t text.

He hates that you probably don’t care as much as he does.

And underneath all of that?

He wants you.

Badly.

Not just physically — though that’s there, sharp and immediate — but in that obsessive way he won’t say out loud. The way your calmness drives him insane. The way you never fold.

He pulls his phone out.

Stares at your contact.

Types.

Deletes.

Types again.

He doesn’t ease into it. He doesn’t pretend it’s casual.

come over baby

pls.

need you so bad

im painfully hard rn

He stares at the screen after sending it.

The message looks desperate.

He doesn’t care.

Because right now he doesn’t just want you — he wants to know you’ll choose him. That you’ll answer. That you’ll come when he asks.

That you didn’t give those lips to someone else and move on.

He runs a hand down his chest like he’s trying to calm his own heartbeat.

It doesn’t work.

He can already picture it — if you walk through his door tonight, he won’t be steady. He won’t be soft.

He’ll be wired. Restless. Touching you too much. Kissing you like he’s trying to reclaim something that was never officially his.

And somewhere deep down, he knows you’ll see it immediately.

You always do.

When you get home, you don’t check your phone.

You kick your heels off by the door, drop your purse on the kitchen counter, and stand there for a second in the quiet. The silence feels clean compared to the party — no bass, no bodies pressing too close, no eyes watching.

Just you.

You grab the vodka from the freezer.

Not because you’re heartbroken.

Not because you’re spiraling.

Because you’re irritated.

At him. At yourself. At the fact that he still has the ability to make your chest feel tight without even being in the room.

You pour a shot.

Down it.

The burn is sharp and immediate, cutting through the leftover haze of the party.

Another one.

You lean back against the counter, staring at nothing, replaying the night in your head. The way he walked toward you. The way he looked at you like he was about to say something real.

And then he left.

Again.

You refuse to be the girl waiting on a couch for a boy who disappears into bathrooms.

You grab your phone off the table to check the time — and that’s when you realize it’s been off.

You press the side button.

The screen lights up.

Notifications flood in.

Four texts.

From him.

Your jaw tightens slightly as you read them.

come over baby

pls.

need you so bad

im painfully hard rn

You stare at the screen for a long second.

You almost laugh.

Because of course.

Of course he waits until he’s alone to need you. Of course he only reaches when the party’s over and he’s stuck in his own head.

You don’t answer immediately.

You set the phone back down.

Let him sit in it.

Let him wonder if you’re ignoring him. Let him replay the lacrosse rumor in his head. Let him imagine you in someone else’s bed.

You pour one more shot.

Down it slower this time.

Then you pick the phone back up.

Your fingers hover over the screen.

You don’t send something emotional. You don’t send something needy.

You send:

You disappear for an hour and now you need me?

You wait.

It takes less than ten seconds.

don’t do that

i just want you here

please

There’s something raw in the way he types. No punctuation. No ego-polished confidence.

You should ignore it.

You know what he’s like when he’s wired. Restless. Impatient. Touching too much. Talking too fast. Eyes too sharp.

Erratic.

But part of you wants to see him like that.

Wants to look him in the face and finally ask what this is.

So you grab your jacket again.

Slip your heels back on.

And you go.

When he opens the door, it’s immediate.

You can see it.

His pupils are blown slightly. His movements a little too quick. He steps back to let you in, but his hand lingers at your waist for a second too long, like he needs to confirm you’re actually there.

“You came,” he says, and there’s relief in it. Real relief.

You step inside slowly. “Don’t get excited.”

The house is dim. Quiet. Just the low hum of the fridge and his uneven breathing.

He’s close already.

Too close.

His hands slide to your hips, thumbs pressing into the denim of your skirt like he’s grounding himself. He leans down, mouth brushing your jaw before you can decide whether to pull back.

It’s heated instantly.

Not slow.

Not gentle.

Hungry.

Like he’s trying to erase something.

His kiss isn’t soft. It’s claiming. Teeth grazing your lower lip, fingers tightening at your waist. He exhales against your mouth like he’s been holding his breath for hours.

And you let it happen for a second.

Just a second.

Because you feel it too. That electric pull. That chaotic magnetism.

But when his hands slide up under your jacket, when he presses you back against the wall like he’s in a rush—

You push at his chest.

Firm.

“Rafe.”

He tries to kiss you again.

You turn your head.

“Rafe,” you repeat, sharper.

He exhales, frustrated. “What?”

You step back, creating space.

“¿Qué somos?” you ask quietly.

He frowns. “What?”

“What are we?” you translate, eyes steady on his. “Are we dating? Or am I just convenient when you’re horny and bored?”

The word lands.

His jaw tightens.

“That’s not what this is.”

“Entonces qué es?” Your voice doesn’t shake. “Because you disappear. You let your girlfriend walk around with your key. And then you text me telling me you’re hard like that’s supposed to mean something.”

He runs a hand through his hair, pacing once, then coming back.

“You left.”

“You left first,” you snap back.

There’s a beat of silence.

Then—

“Did you kiss him?” he asks suddenly.

The shift is sharp.

You blink. “Excuse me?”

“The lacrosse guy.”

Ah.

There it is.

You cross your arms. “You have a girlfriend.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“And that’s not what I answered.”

He steps closer again, agitation building. “Did you?”

You tilt your chin up slightly.

“Maybe I did.”

It’s not even fully a confession. Just a refusal to give him control.

His nostrils flare. His hands clench and unclench at his sides.

“I don’t like that,” he mutters.

You almost laugh.

“No te pertenece,” you say calmly. You don’t own me.

His eyes darken at that.

And now?

Now the argument can explode.

Because he wants to claim you.

But he hasn’t earned that right.

The second you say “No te pertenece,” something shifts in him.

It’s subtle at first — his shoulders square, his jaw tightens, his body language changes from frantic to deliberate. Like he’s deciding to take control of the situation instead of reacting to it.

He steps forward again.

Slower this time.

His hands find your waist, not frantic now — firm. Grounding. His thumbs press into your hips like he’s reminding you exactly how close he is, how easily he can close the space between you.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” he says, voice lower now, steadier. Controlled in a way that feels intentional.

You don’t move.

“Then what did you mean?” you ask.

His grip tightens slightly when you don’t soften.

“You think I’d be acting like this if I didn’t care?” he says, leaning closer. His breath is warm against your cheek. “You think I’d be losing my mind over some stupid rumor if you were just convenient?”

The word tastes bitter in his mouth.

You can feel how badly he wants to twist this into something physical again. His mouth brushes against your jaw, your neck, like if he kisses you long enough you’ll forget the question.

His hands slide up your sides, fingers digging in just enough to make you feel claimed.

And for a second — a dangerous second — it works.

Your breath stutters. Your hands instinctively grab onto his shirt. He presses you back against the wall again, his body heavy and solid against yours. His mouth is on yours, hot and urgent, like he’s trying to mark you.

But even in the heat of it, you feel it.

The frustration in his movements. The aggression just under the surface. He isn’t just turned on.

He’s angry.

His hand slides up to your jaw, tilting your face so you can’t pull away.

“Tell me you didn’t kiss him,” he murmurs, but it’s not really a request. It’s pressure.

You push against his chest.

He doesn’t move.

“Rafe,” you warn.

His fingers tighten just slightly at your waist, not enough to hurt, but enough to make the message clear — stay.

“You know I hate that,” he says. “You know I can’t stand the thought of someone else touching you.”

You stare at him.

“You can’t stand it?” you repeat.

He exhales sharply, frustration bubbling up. “Yeah.”

“And what do you think I feel watching your girlfriend dance all over other guys?” Your voice doesn’t break. It cuts.

That’s when it hits.

The word.

Girlfriend.

His body stiffens.

He steps back like you physically shoved him.

“Sofia has nothing to do with this,” he says quickly.

You laugh, but there’s no humor in it.

“Nothing to do with this?” you repeat, your accent slipping heavier as your emotions rise. “She has a key to your house, Rafe. She calls you hers. And you’re standing here asking me who I kiss?”

His face flushes — not embarrassment. Cornered anger.

“You know it’s not like that with her.”

“Then what is it like?” you demand. “Because from where I’m standing, you get to have both. You get safety and status and something soft waiting at home. And then you get to text me at midnight because you’re jealous and horny.”

His breathing gets uneven again.

He runs a hand through his hair, pacing once like he’s trying to gather his thoughts, but they’re moving too fast. The coke hasn’t fully worn off. His emotions are amplified — sharpened.

“I don’t love her,” he snaps suddenly.

The words are loud. Defensive.

You go still.

“But you’re with her,” you fire back immediately. “That’s worse.”

His chest rises and falls harder now.

“You think this is easy for me?” he asks, stepping closer again, agitation back in full force. “You think I like feeling like this? Like I’m constantly—” He stops himself, jaw tightening.

“Like you’re what?” you press.

He hesitates.

There it is.

That minute.

That ugly, quiet struggle where pride fights honesty.

His eyes flick away from yours for the first time.

“Jealous,” he mutters finally.

It’s barely audible.

You don’t let him get away with it.

“Say it.”

His gaze snaps back to yours.

“I’m jealous,” he says again, louder this time, anger threaded through it. “I’m jealous of the way he looked at you. I’m jealous that he touched you. I’m jealous that you walked out of that party without even looking for me.”

The last part is the most honest.

And it lands heavier than the rest.

Your chest tightens, but you don’t soften.

“You don’t get to be jealous,” you say quietly. “Not when you go home to someone else.”

His composure fractures.

“I don’t go home to her,” he argues. “She just— she’s there.”

“Exactly,” you say.

Silence stretches between you, thick and suffocating.

“You almost had me just now,” you admit, your voice lower but steady. “When you were kissing me like that? I almost forgot. But I’m not going to be the other girl in someone else’s story.”

His face shifts at that — something raw flashing through his eyes.

“You’re not the other girl,” he says.

“Then make me not be,” you reply.

The room feels charged.

He looks like he wants to say something — something real, something decisive — but fear flickers there too. Fear of blowing up the safe thing he already has. Fear of choosing.

And that hesitation?

That’s what detonates everything.

Because you see it.

And you shake your head slightly.

“Until you figure out what you’re willing to lose,” you tell him, voice quiet but unwavering, “don’t come to me like this.”

His hand twitches at his side like he wants to grab you again. Like he wants to pull you back into something physical so he doesn’t have to answer that.

But this time, you don’t let him.

And that’s what makes it hurt.

You don’t storm out.

You don’t scream.

You just look at him like you’ve finally understood something about him — and that’s worse.

“Until you decide,” you say, voice steady but tired, “don’t touch me like you own me.”

And you walk toward the door.

He doesn’t follow immediately.

That’s the part that guts him later.

Because he stands there, fists flexing at his sides, listening to the door close. Listening to your heels fade down the porch steps. And for a few seconds, he tells himself he did the right thing by not chasing you.

By not begging.

But the house feels wrong again the second you’re gone.

Too empty.

Too quiet.

He replays the look on your face.

Not anger.

Disappointment.

That’s what gets under his skin.

He grabs his phone before he can think.

Not to text you.

To call Sofia.

She answers on the third ring, already half-laughing about something in the background.

“Rafe? Everything okay?”

He doesn’t waste time.

“Come get your key.”

There’s a pause.

“What?”

“Come get your key,” he repeats, pacing now. His pulse is racing again — not from drugs this time. From adrenaline. From finally choosing something

“Why are you being weird?” she asks, tone shifting.

“I’m not being weird. I’m done.

Silence.

“Done with what?”

“With this,” he says, gesturing around the empty room like she can see it. “With pretending.”

She starts talking — fast, confused, hurt — but he barely registers the words. His chest feels tight but clear. Like he’s ripping off a bandage he’s known needed to come off.

“Is there someone else?” she finally asks.

He hesitates.

That’s answer enough.

Her voice hardens. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I know.”

He ends the call before she can say more.

His hands are shaking.

Not regret.

Shock.

Because he actually did it.

He stares at the wall for a long second.

Then he grabs his keys.

He doesn’t think about the timing. Or how insane it looks to show up at your place again after you just left his.

He just drives.

Too fast.

Music off.

Mind loud.

When he pulls up, he doesn’t give himself time to second-guess it.

He knocks.

Harder than necessary.

When you open the door, you’re not expecting him.

That much is obvious.

Your hair is slightly messier now. Jacket gone. The room behind you dim, softer than his house felt.

He looks different.

Less controlled.

More certain.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

He steps closer, not aggressively — urgently.

“I ended it,” he says.

You blink.

“With Sofia.”

The name hangs between you.

Your face doesn’t soften immediately.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not,” he says, voice rough. “I told her to come get her key. It’s over.”

Your chest rises and falls slowly.

“Why?” you ask.

And that’s the question.

Not did you. Not when.

Why.

He exhales, stepping into your space.

“Because you were right,” he admits. “I don’t get to stand there and act like I own you while I’m still holding onto something safe. I don’t get to be jealous and not do anything about it.”

His hands hover at your waist like he’s asking permission this time.

Not taking.

Asking.

“You walked out,” he continues, voice lower now. “And I realized I was more scared of losing you than I was of losing her.”

The room feels smaller suddenly.

Warmer.

You search his face for hesitation.

You don’t find it.

“You don’t get to do this halfway,” you say quietly. “No me vengas con mentiras.”

“I’m not,” he says immediately. “I don’t want halfway with you.”

That does it.

Because for the first time tonight, he isn’t trying to dominate the room.

He’s choosing.

You step closer.

Slowly.

His hands finally land on your hips again, but softer now. Reverent almost. Like he understands the weight of it.

When he kisses you this time, it’s different.

Still hungry.

Still heated.

But there’s no anger behind it.

It’s relief.

It’s possession earned, not stolen.

His hands slide up your back, pulling you flush against him, and you can feel the tension still buzzing under his skin — the leftover adrenaline, the emotional whiplash of what he just did.

He kisses you like he’s been holding it in for weeks.

Like he doesn’t have to sneak it anymore.

Like he finally picked a side.

And when his forehead rests against yours, breath uneven, he murmurs against your mouth:

“I was jealous. I am jealous. And I don’t care if it makes me look insane.”

You slide your fingers into his hair.

“Then act like you want me,” you whisper.

And this time?

He does.

He doesn’t hesitate.

The second the words leave your mouth, his hand comes up, fingers wrapping around your jaw — not rough, but firm enough that your breath catches. His thumb presses lightly against your lower lip like he’s testing something.

“You don’t get to say that unless you’re ready for it,” he murmurs.

His voice isn’t rushed anymore. It’s controlled. Low. Dangerous in a steady way.

You hold his gaze.

“Then show me.”

That’s all he needs.

He kisses you again, but this time it’s slower at first — deliberate. Like he’s memorizing the feel of you now that he doesn’t have to sneak it. His mouth moves against yours with purpose, tongue sliding against yours in a way that feels claiming rather than frantic.

One hand slides down your back, gripping your waist, then lower — squeezing like he’s grounding himself in the fact that you’re here.

“You have no idea,” he breathes against your mouth, “what that rumor did to me.”

You tilt your head slightly, teasing but steady. “Maybe I do.”

His hand tightens at your hip.

“I couldn’t stand it,” he admits, jaw clenched. “The thought of someone else’s hands on you. Someone else kissing you like this.”

He kisses you harder on the last word.

There’s heat behind it now — but not the unstable anger from earlier. This is focused. Controlled intensity.

He backs you up slowly until the back of your knees hit the couch. His hand slides up your thigh, pushing your skirt up inch by inch, eyes never leaving yours.

“Look at me,” he says when your lashes flutter.

You do.

That’s important. Eye contact.

His expression softens just slightly — not weak, just vulnerable for half a second.

“I chose you,” he says. “Don’t ever think I didn’t.”

And then he pushes you down onto the couch.

Not violently.

Confidently.

He kneels between your legs, hands spreading your thighs apart like he has every intention of taking his time. His thumb traces over your skin slowly, possessively.

“You walked out on me tonight,” he says, voice low. “Do you know what that did to me?”

“You deserved it,” you reply softly.

He smirks slightly at that.

“Yeah,” he admits. “I did.”

Then his mouth drags down your neck, slow and intentional, like he’s mapping territory. His hands roam your body with more control now — not grabbing, not frantic. Claiming.

When he pulls back, his fingers hook under your chin again.

“No more halfway,” he says. “No more hiding.”

You swallow.

“And no more girlfriends,” you add.

His jaw tightens — not in anger, but agreement.

“Gone.”

The air in the room is suffocating, thick with the smell of Rafe’s expensive cologne and the sharp, metallic tang of the storm brewing outside. He leans down again, kissing you with a desperate, starving hunger that feels like a collision. His tongue sweeps against yours, demanding and deep, while one hand slides under your thigh, hooking your leg and pulling you so flush against him that you can feel the

frantic thrum of his heart through his shirt.

He breaks the kiss just an inch, his breathing jagged as he guides your hands down from his collar. His fingers are trembling, a fine, high-frequency vibration that betrays the composure he’s trying so hard to keep. He presses your palms flat against the rigid, pulsing length straining against his trousers.

“You feel that, baby?” he rasps, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly register that vibrates in your marrow. “That’s what you do to me. You’re the only one who does this.”

He doesn't wait. With a frantic, jerky motion, he unfastens his belt. The leather snaps, the sound echoing in the quiet room. He shoves his pants and boxers down to his knees, and his cock springs forward against his stomach, heavy and dark-veined. You stare, your eyes widening, the sheer size of him making your pulse skip. It looks impossible—too much for the soft, aching heat between your legs.

Rafe catches your chin, tilting your face up until your eyes are locked on his. His blue eyes are blown wide, pupils swallowing the iris until they’re nothing but black pits of possessiveness.

“Keep your eyes on me, baby, okay?” he commands, his voice a soft, dangerous thread. “Don't look away. I want to see you realize you're mine.”

He lifts you, his hands digging into your hips with enough force to leave marks you’ll be tracing for days. He doesn't go slow at first; he’s too far gone, too haunted by the image of you and that lacrosse captaine, the way you let someone else breathe your air. He enters you in one slow, soul-crushing stretch that feels like he’s claiming every inch of your internal space.

You let out a sharp, high-pitched cry, your fingers clawing at his shoulders. Rafe freezes. He presses his forehead against yours, his eyes closed tight, grounding both of you in the sheer intensity of the connection.

“I don’t share,” he whispers, his voice breaking. He doesn't wait for an answer, driving into you again, harder this time. “No one else gets this. No one else gets to see you like this.”

The rhythm is brutal, a relentless, driving pace that makes the bedframe groan against the wall. Rafe reacts to every sound you make—every hitch in your breath, every muffled sob of pleasure. If you moan too loud, he bites your shoulder; if you go quiet, he handles you rougher, demanding your focus.

“Look at me when I touch you,” he growls, his hands moving from your hips to your throat, not squeezing, but weighing you down, marking his territory. “Tell me you’re choosing me. Tell me you’re not walking away from me again.”

“I’m choosing you,” you sob, your legs locking around his waist, pulling him deeper. “Always you, Rafe.”

His jealousy shifts. It morphs into something softer, something almost terrifyingly vulnerable. He slows down for half a second, his movements becoming a heavy, agonizingly deep grind. He looks at you—really looks at you—and for the first time, the manic edge in his eyes flickers into raw, naked yearning.

He looks like a man who has finally found his anchor in a hurricane.

“You’re mine now,” he says, and it isn’t a threat. It’s a realization. A confession.

You tilt your head, your hair splayed across the pillow like silk. “Say it again.”

His eyes darken, the vulnerability turning back into a fierce, protective fire.

“You’re mine. You drive me insane, you know that? I can’t breathe when you’re not in the room.”

He picks up the pace again, his movements becoming frantic as he nears the edge. He’s talking constantly now—filthy, possessive praises whispered against your skin, his spit slicking your collarbone as he leans down to lick the pulse point there. He’s reaching for you, touching your hair, your cheeks, your chest, as if he’s reassuring himself that you’re real, that you’re actually here under him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he gasps, his hips snapping forward with a desperate urgency. “My girl. My perfect, pretty girl.”

He hits his peak with a guttural, choked-off roar, his body locking as he unloads inside you, a hot, pulsing flood that feels like it’s filling your very soul. He collapses onto you, his head buried in the crook of your neck, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your own.

He stays there for a long time, his pulse thrumming inside you, his hand still tangled in your hair, refusing to let go.

“Don’t leave,” he whispers into the dark, his voice raw. “Just... don't ever leave me.”

[lokissweater]

sideline sweetheart ꨄ︎

{mlb!megumi fushiguro x f!reader}

summary: it's time to audition for the nfl cheerleaders! and you're absolutely fucking shitting it, you profusely debating if you even have what it takes to earn a shining glimmering spot at one of the nfl's most prestigious cheer teams. but while you're stuck wondering if you're enough for it... megumi is stuck wanting to be enough for you throughout this time, desperately wanting to give back for the immensely sweet support you have given him throughout his baseball career, and trying his absolute best to be there for you and be a pillar of aid to your anxiety filled little self.

warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, cursing, FLUFFF AFF YALL ALR KNOW, sexual themes, nsfw, SMUT hallelujah, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it y'all), creampie mmm, LOVESICK megumi, DOMINANT megumi he's so rough yum, JEALOUS megumi oh my oh my, filthy dirty talk, barely any angst, grinding, mentions of drinking and alcohol, mentions of inebriation, pet names, mentions of injury, all characters are aged up, mentions of reader having ‘pink cheeks’ is only to amplify and over-exaggerate feelings of embarrassment, shyness, and everything in between, and not to be taken literally! this is a work of fiction, and you can imagine many things for yourself :)

word count: 19.2k

authors note: WORLDS SLOWEST WRITER AWARD GOES TO ME Y'ALL OMMMFGGGG but the wait is FINALLY over. our cool baseball man is HOME and READY to smooch all up on you guys!!! i hope with my entire being that you guys LAAAUVV this update just as much as i do :,) I LOVE YOU SOOO FUCKING MUCH MWAH MWAH !!! <333 cutie heart divider by @/sisterlucifergraphics !!

i highly advise you to read the other parts of this series or else you won’t be able to understand some of the storyline and references :( you can find my mlb!megumi fushiguro masterlist here!

PART TWO of this fic is available here! i write too much my god.

“i’ll do an underhand toss so you can catch it baby.”

“no gumi.” you pointed a silly finger at him, wagging it with a quirk to the brow. “don’t go easy on me i can handle it. if i can’t catch a ball what the hell am i gonna do with cheerleading.”

megumi snorted, a little smile of amusement on his face as he moved a leg behind and planted his foot on the dirt, reeling his arm back with the ball in hand.

“you ready?”

“yes.” you blurted. “wait— no? wait yes! wait—” you slapped a hand over your forehead and groaned.

“i’m not cut out for cheerleading man...” you mumbled, gaze trailing down as you fiddled with your gloved hand. “they’re gonna eat me alive… and then tell me i taste nasty… and then spit me out—”

“baby i think baseball and cheerleading are two different things.” he chuckled softly, a soft glint of humor in his eye as he straightened up and gently beckoned you over with a nudge of his head, you slumping to him with dragging feet and trying not to audibly scream at how godly your man looked in his baseball uniform right now, all scuffed up and dirty from practice, with his spiky locks peeking underneath his cap and sweaty glistening delicious forehead—

megumi squished your cheeks together and pecked your lips, tilting your face up a little to grab your gaze.

“you’ll be fine. i promise.” he spoke lowly, eyes directly on you as your heart fluttered over his kind reassurance. “don’t worry too much about it tonight please… you’ll lose sleep.”

auditions for the nfl cheer team were tomorrow morning, and you and your best friend had been absolutely shitting it over the fact, spending every waking moment since the halloween party screaming and scrambling around trying to learn and perfect the required choreography before the big day, both megumi and yuji standing back with blinking big dumb eyes as they watched the two of you rehearse the number over and over, falling to your knees and borderline sobbing anytime either of you messed up a certain step.

they often had to wipe your blubbering fat tears while avoiding accidentally ticking you off at the same time, as it had happened one too many times already over something unhelpful they said.

yuji and megumi had been living in fear for a week straight.

and since the two of you got along so well with the cheer team at the halloween party, the captain specifically, you knew that them giving you the shining privilege of skipping straight through to the final stages of auditions wasn’t something that they just did for anyone they happened to come across, and the thought only made you and your girl friend sick with anxiety over you both potentially embarrassing yourselves, and deflating the sparkling impression they all had of you that you so drunkenly happened to curate.

“i don’t think i’m gonna get much sleep anyways gumi…” you moped, your anxious little doe eyes softening his heart as they looked at him. “i’m planning on practicing the choreo all night until i pass out from exhaustion.”

he stared at you bewildered.

“no baby you’re not doing that.”  

“and why not?” you pouted. “i’ve done it before! sometimes i make fan edits of you playing ball until four am what’s the difference.”

his eyes widened and he burst out laughing, cheeks going pink as he delicately let your face go and nudged your forehead with his finger through your giggles.

“dummy.” he mumbled. “i told you to stop doing that.”

“i know i’m sorry i relapsed...” you whined, a little mischievous silly grin growing on your face then as you wiggled your brows at him. “but if you flash me i’ll cut down to two am!—”

“oh my god—”

you giggled hard at his pinky cheeks that increased in shade before your very eyes the more you kept talking, him shamelessly enjoying every second of it as he raised a hand and softly pinched your little cheek.

“silly girl.” he mumbled. “you’re sleeping over at my place tonight.”

you gasped, heart filled gaze twinkling up at him as you bounced on your toes and vigorously nodded, the corners of his lips quirking up at the sight.

“actually?!” you gushed. “i’d love to guuumiii! oh thank god because i was gonna lose my fucking mind tonight if i didn’t have some sort of supervision—”

megumi was more than well aware of exactly how much you sweetly supported him through every aspect of his career endeavors, you in attendance to practically everything— his games, select team meetings, banquets, practices— something that was an absolute precious privilege for him to have and a factor he didn’t take lightly in the slightest.

he cherished it, wholeheartedly and deeply as he subconsciously looked for you and hoped for your bubbling self in positively every event he had, and the absence of your presence being abundantly obvious any time you rarely couldn’t make it to something of his due to school or a family event that clashed with his scheduling, spending the entirety of whatever commitment he had bored out of his mind as a result, missing important information because he kept silently thinking about your pretty face, itching to get back to you any chance he could.

and he wanted to do the exact same for you.

he wanted to be at every cheer event, every game, every meeting, every rehearsal without fail and give back the warm support you had showed him throughout your entire relationship, and he hoped with every fiber of his grumpy being that you and your best friend did make it on the team, for he knew and felt how bad you actually wanted it despite your silly poor attempts at hiding it.

he knew it’d make you happy. and he wanted more than anything for you to be happy.

“— and i’m still gonna rehearse ‘till i drop though i don’t care if you’re shirtless and your gorgeous tits are in my face—” 

“baby.”

“yes.” you blurted, smiling up at him so sweetly that he nearly forgot the absurd statement that just came out of your mouth.

“i have no doubt in my mind that you’re gonna make it on the team... because you will.”

your face softened, gently tilting your head to the side.

“you think so gumi?”

“mhm.”

“and how does my cool baseball man know that? hmm?”

he pinched your side and you squirmed away with a laugh. 

“because i just do.” he mumbled. “trust me... okay?”

the biggest smile flashed across your face then, eyes glowing and you utterly lovesick as you looked at your boyfriend’s handsome gentle face, the faith he had in you so contagious that you couldn’t help but let it in your overthinking mind and believe it, for he was quite literally the only one who could break through your stubborn brain and ease your worries until they were next to nothing and silly.

you giddily jumped in his arms then and he quickly caught you with a surprised oof, your legs wrapping around his waist and arms around his head as you squeezed the side of his face into your chest through your gushing, megumi’s neck growing hot at the way your puffy boobs squished up against his cheek, a sneaky smile slowly playing at his lips as he hoisted you up and tried not to let his dick swell up.

“you’re so sweet gumi thank youuu!” you gushed, pulling back and peppering kisses all over his face as he laughed, the warmth in his chest at your affection so fuzzy and addicting that his insides completely melted over and oozed everywhere else.

“you’re welcome.” he murmured. “do you feel better?”

“i do baby!” you beamed, ever so gently running your thumbs over his warm cheeks as he looked up at you. “and i have no doubt in my mind that you’re gonna win the world series... again!”

he chuckled and softly pecked the side of your neck.

“i hope so. if not i’m gonna have to deal with yuji crying and screaming in my ear about how we’ve ‘lost our touch’ or whatever the fuck.”

you laughed.

“i think i’m gonna be crying and screaming in your ear if i don’t make the cheer team gumi...” you muttered, wringing your arms around his neck and mushing the side of your face to his. “i’m no better than yuji...”

“yeah but i love you not him—”

“heyyyuuhhh!” 

you both jumped and snapped your heads around, your face lighting up at the sight of yuji and your girl friend walking across the field over to you, megumi rolling his eyes at being interrupted like always and never seeming to have a moment alone with you so long as they were there, giving the back of your thighs a gentle squeeze before carefully setting you down.

“you don’t love me man?” yuji pouted. “after everything we’ve been through? after every home run and squabble? every loss? every shower?—”

you and your best friend cackled as megumi tossed both his and your gloves on the dirt, scowling with narrowed eyes.

“no idiot—”

“but why?!—”

“because you’re annoying—”

“—ahh silly silly men.” your girl friend sighed with a shake of the head and turning to you, her absolute done expression making you laugh as you nodded in agreement, you extending an arm out then to engulf her in a snuggling hug that she happily reciprocated.

“how you feeling babe? yu and i were just about to leave but i wanted to come say bye real quick.” she gave you an affectionate squeeze, the two of you swaying side to side and silently on the verge of bursting on the inside. “are you as sick as i am? hah… do we want to have another meltdown? or are we saving it for tomorrow morning in the parking lot—”

“—listen i know i’m no y/n but i thought you somewhat loved me man!—”

“—shut up—”

“oh i’m about to lose my fucking mind now girl.” you breathed out, fingers digging in the strands of your hair as you rapidly shook your head side to side. “what did we— what did we even say that night? why did they like us so much? when did— how—”

your best friend was quick to mirror you— quickly shaking her head while throwing her hands up in confused emphasis at what you were saying, taking no time at all to match your energy as she let herself explode and heave with you, pupils blown out as she grabbed both your wrists then and clutched them like a lifeline.

“oh god i don’t know i was—” she dryly swallowed. “i was too busy fake arresting yuji in the bathroom after that i— i forgot to log what they said in my brain!—”

yuji and megumi’s bickering slowly seized at the sound of your commencing hysterics, staring wide eyed and bewildered.

 “—why did i have so many freaking bamboo shots oh my god?!” you panted, hands breaking out of her hold to grip and yank at her shoulders. “i don’t remember anything oh my god all i remember was that i— i had a blue hawaiian and there was some bitch named hana and then i was upstairs on my knees with my hands tied behind my back getting—”

“—baby please don’t finish that—”

“fuck wait! what— what time is call time tomorrow?!” your girl friend cried out, cutting a flustered megumi off. “was it six am? seven?!—”

“no i— i think it was nine! or was it— was it ten?!—”

“twelve?!”

“FUCK!—”

with one look, both men simultaneously decided to wring you two apart and pick you up— megumi grabbing you by the thighs and throwing you over his shoulder as you squealed, and yuji scooping your yelling best friend up bridal style while the two of them backed away from each other, feet dragging against the dirt as you and your girl friend squirmed and wiggled in their grasps.

“down gumi down!—”

“nope.”

“you guys cannot be together until tomorrow morning.” yuji giggled boyishly, actively wrestling with your girl friend as she fought against his hold. “or you’re gonna— keep setting each other off and— blow up before even getting to auditions— HAH BABE! hands off the goods not in front of the people—”

“yeah but if i blow up that means i don’t have to go.” your miserable soft voice spoke up from behind, megumi huffing out a laugh and raising a hand to pinch at your side, eliciting a thrash and cute giggle from you in response that he was hoping for.

“you’re going baby.” he spoke gently to you. “and call time is at eight am.”

yuji and megumi started making their way across the empty field with their respective ladies in their arms, through the warm setting sun— out the gates and down the familiar main echoey tunnel that led to the team’s locker rooms, your man stopping just outside the double doors and turning his body to the side so you could properly bid your friends goodbye from behind.

“bring y/n down here megumi you’re hogging her and i need to give her a farewell smooch.” your best friend spat, you giggling as megumi rolled his eyes and turned his back, bending down a little until you were eye level with her.

you happily extended your arms out and wrapped each other up in tight hugs, exchanging silly cheek kisses with exaggerated mwah’s! before you both pulled apart.

“i’ll see you tomorrow babe okay?” you smiled kindly at her, and she nodded.

“yes! you staying over at freak’s place tonight?”

she snickered and you flicked her in the forehead, shooting her a playful look as she whined and rubbed over the stinging spot.

“fine— are you staying at fushiguro’s place tonight… you likey better?”

“yup yup!—”

“freak fushiguro—”

you smacked her in the shoulder this time and she laughed, quickly reaching out again to wring you back into a secure hug, both men trying to balance your sudden movements and avoid accidentally dropping you.

“i’m sorry i love you i’m done i’m done!” she tumbled out. “but i assume you are… right?”

you chuckled in her hold. “i am! he’s supervising me for the night and making sure i don’t go insane.”

your girl friend perked up.

“ouuu supervision i see?” she wiggled her brows. “and does this supervision perhaps entail sexy freaky time with your plump tits in megumi’s face— HEY!”

megumi had sharply spun you back around and ripped you away until it was him facing her instead, a look of stern twitching agitation on his face as he broodingly looked down at her.

“what is wrong with you.”

“give me back my woman i wasn’t done talking to her!”

“stop with your weird fucking questions then.”

she offendedly gasped.  

“they’re not weird! they’re informational and i have every right to know if my best friend is potentially getting mauled by you tonight.”

he scowled. “how the hell is that your right—”

“because i need to know if you’re gonna be a parasite on her neck so i can at least bring a fucking ice pack tomorrow!— yu tell him—”

yuji snapped his head up from momentarily dozing off. “HUH? what happen—”

“okay!” you laughed from behind, wiggling and angling your body to try and look at her from your bent over position, megumi hiking you up a little further on his shoulder before begrudgingly turning back around so you could face your irritating girl friend again.

“tomorrow.” you grabbed her hand and held it with a squeeze, a cheeky smile etched on your lips. “it’ll be fine babe! we’ll be okay we just have to do a few shimmies and pirouettes and jump kicks and splits! that’s it!”

“r— right!” she exclaimed with a nod. “and then just do all that while traveling like fifty yards across the field! but that’s fine right? we’ll be alright?”

“uh huh!” you nodded. “and then just do a kick line with the rest of the cheerleaders for like a minute straight before doing the jump split! it’s not that bad.”

“exactly!”  

a moment of silence settled between the lot of you, the both of you blinking at each other— expressions unreadable.

“i think i forgot the fucking routine.” you blurted.

“i forgot how to do the jump split!” she burst out. “and— and we just practiced this morning and i already forgot—”

you gawked. “oh my god?! i forgot too i forgot too!—”

“shit! we have to practice and we have to practice now—”

“—we’re gonna be the biggest fuck ups on the entire team oh jesus—”

“—alright you’re done.”

yuji and megumi wretched you both apart then amidst your frantic blubbering once more, your interlaced hands slipping away as you whined and thrashed again in their holds.

“no gumi you don’t get it you don’t understand i’m about to embarrass myself and i need to be your cheerleader wife!—”

you flailed your legs out and megumi was quick to lock his arms around them to keep them still, a tiny quirk to his mouth as he amusedly watched you fidget and grumble, turning around to face yuji.

“i’ll see you later man.” yuji chuckled, readjusting your girl friend as she writhed around and fought him, though eventually accepting defeat— huffing with crossed arms over his strong grip. “or we’re actually gonna be here all night watching them lose it.”

megumi curtly nodded and placed a hand on the locker room door handle, pushing it open and stepping a foot inside.

“bye.”

“wait! do you actually not love me—”

“bye.”

the locker room door slammed shut behind you both and you giggled, your legs absentmindedly swinging as he brought you around the spacious room and to the bench nearest to his locker, gently setting you down and planting his hands on either sides of you where you sat, his face close to yours.

“y/n.”

“yes gumi?” you smiled kindly.

“what is it gonna take for you to believe me when i say you’re gonna be fine.”

you pondered for a moment, eyes looking up before a cheeky grin settled, tilting your head to the side and peering up at him.

“a kith.”

a close-lipped smile slowly grew on his face as he leaned in, lips softly pressing to yours and deepening with every move of your wet mouths folding and smacking, megumi taking a deep breath in through his nose as he dipped in further and devoured your plushy lips, the blood in his veins pumping as you kissed him back with just as much need as him that he contemplated if it was a good idea for him to just— slip a hand up your top and feel your boobs for a little bit…  

“gumi.” you mumbled in between kisses.

“uh huh—” he breathed out in your mouth, hot misty air fanning across your face as you lip locked. “you okay?—”

“squeeze my tit please.”

he choked against your lips and pulled away, chuckling softly at the fact that your little brain was funnily thinking the same thing he was, but ultimately shutting the idea down once his hazy mind was met with a bit of clarity from your tiny steamy make out session, the matter at hand resurfacing as he looked at you with soft serious eyes.

“i would pretty baby.” he murmured. “but then i’ll get hard.”

you giggled and poked his cheek.

“that’s the point.” you emphasized. “and me thinks you should perhaps get your big dick out and let it live and breathe.”

laughing some more, he shook his head and stood upright, stepping around the bench to get to his locker and tugging it open to pull out his duffel bag, taking his cap off and hanging it on a small hook inside.  

“what?!” you pouted. “maaaann i thought we were about to do it in here…”

the idea was extremely and agonizingly enticing to him, one he wouldn’t even think twice about or take anything at all from you to convince him and have you trapped against the lockers with his cock stuffed in you… but the fact of how nervous you were about auditions tomorrow forced him to put his horny sick thoughts away for once— wanting you to stay focused, rest up, and get as much sleep as you possibly could instead of feeling sore in the morning because he couldn’t keep his fucking dick in his pants.

which was also almost embarrassingly never when it came to you, even after blessedly being together for two years and counting.

“it’s getting late baby… i want you to get enough sleep for tomorrow.” he unplucked the last button of his jersey before shrugging it off, you extending a hand out to gently take it from him then— neatly folding it over and setting it down on your lap as he changed out of the rest of his uniform.

“but i told you gumi i still have to rehearse for a little bit at your place regardless…” you mumbled, your index finger absentmindedly tracing over the patched logo of his team on his jersey. “how else am i supposed to be your cheerleader wife…”

he pulled a clean shirt over his head and sighed softly through his nose, closing his locker and moving a few steps over to take a seat next to you on the opposite side of the bench, shoulder to shoulder with you as he tucked some of your hair behind your ear.

“you are that regardless.” he spoke lowly, gently. “i don’t need you to be a cheerleader for me to see you that way… you know that.”  

your cheeks flared as you looked down, your heart thumping over his tender sweetness that you never got enough of no matter how many times he had kindly shown it to you, you absolutely giddy over the reminder that he saw a complete future with you as his wife, even if he had already made it very clear to you just a week prior.

it was still so lovely to hear again all the same.

he lightly nudged at the promise ring on your finger and you laughed softly, your eyes gradually lifting to finally make eye contact with him, shining and hopeful as you nodded and kissed his cheek.

“thank you gumi.” you nearly whispered. “for always being there for me.”

in comparison to everything you had ever done for him throughout the course of your relationship, he felt his efforts were nothing against yours as you had done way more than just be there for him— above and fucking beyond actually… but his chest utterly warmed over anyways at your unbelieving kindness and gratitude over something so small. over the bare minimum of what it was to be your boyfriend.

you never expected much from anyone and got excited over the silliest of things… and it never failed to make megumi just— fall.  

time and time again without needing much but a look from you for him to do so.

“i love you.” he mumbled, and you melted, your foreheads coming to rest against each other’s then— eyelids gradually closing as you relished in what it was to be together and happy and peaceful.

“i love you baby.” you murmured softly. “very very much.”

“more than coffee cake?”

the cute bundles of laughter you let out then made megumi wholeheartedly smile, teeth and all as his forehead detached from yours so he could see for himself what it looked like.

you puffed a breath out and shook your head, shrugging. “i don’t know man… that’s a tough one… but if you flashed me like i asked earlier maybe the answer will come to me—”

his eyes narrowed as he pinched at your side, you squealing and moving your torso to and fro in attempts at dodging his repeating tries until he wrapped an arm around your waist to trap you, pulling you in flush against his chest as you giggled through his continued pinches.

“i’m sorry gumi i’m— HEH— i’m kidding! i’m kidding i—”

“fix it.”

“flash me!—”

craning his neck down he gnawed at your cheek in response, you gasping and wiggling at the tickling feeling as you pushed on his chest to try and get away.

“it’s a prank! it’s a prank i love you so so much more than coffee cake!—”

“swear it.”

“i swear!—”

megumi didn’t think he’d ever seen you this nervous before.

because watching you get ready for auditions the following morning— kissing him awake, packing your things in your duffel bag, doing your makeup and styling your hair, brushing your teeth, preparing the smallest and quickest breakfast he had ever seen you prepare in his life (and offering way more for him than yourself), slipping on your required sparkly navy blue athletic uniform—

you were just… quiet. barely speaking at all and only doing so when he spoke to you first or asked you a question, his apartment that was usually filled and bouncing with your chatter about anything under the sun, now still and borderline eerie as his eyes remained permanently trained on you as you moved around his place, softly muttering to yourself about something that you’d forgotten or reciting steps from your routine to better solidify it.

and it worried him.

“you sure you don’t want me to make you a little piece of toast like mine gumi?” you kindly offered, slathering on a thin layer of strawberry jam on your slice of bread. “i could even add banana slices to it?”

why weren’t you adding banana slices to yours.  

you were barely eating anything…

“no m’okay baby thank you.” he murmured, and you turned your head in his direction— your gaze softening at the sight of his sleepy handsome face as he rubbed over an eye with his fist, a black shiny coffee mug in hand as he leaned against the kitchen island next to you.

you stood on your tippy toes and pressed a cute peck to his cheek, the act waking him up a little more as his gaze flickered down to yours with a small drowsy smile, him lifting a hand and placing it on top of your head— giving it a little rub.

“are you okay.”

“mhm!” you quickly nodded, lying. “i’m almost ready too i just need to pack a few more things.”

he held your gaze for a moment before lightly moving your head closer by his hand and kissing your temple, arm dropping after as he pushed himself off the counter and wordlessly left the kitchen, leaving you there in your blundering thoughts as you swallowed the thick lump in your throat, the smallest bit of appetite that you’d curated during your time getting ready flying out the window the longer you stood there silently by yourself.

each training day for auditions was like fighting for your life, as the coaches watched over each and every single girl like hawks and critiqued not only their actual technique, but their stamina, their looks, how well they fit on the already existing team, how well they upheld their sparkling pristine image, and even their media training skills as they were often interviewed and scouted by sports channels during various nfl games about questions pertaining to the current season, the exposure only worsening the closer the cheer team’s football players got to the super bowl.

which is why the coaches strongly emphasized on character at times rather than technique from the articles you’d read.

you figured this was the sole reason why you and your best friend were able to skip over the preliminary rounds and straight to training camp in the first place, because of the good word the captain had put in for you.

and you didn’t know if you could go on with your life if you managed to fuck it up and embarrass yourself by getting eliminated on the first day…

pursing your lips, you set your piece of uneaten toast down on your plate and nudged it off to the side, grabbing your jacket from a nearby barstool and padding your way out of the kitchen to the living room, you so caught up in your loud idiot head that you almost didn’t notice the way your things were neatly set down and ready for you on the couch— your duffel bag zipped up, your water bottle filled and tucked snug in the pockets of your bag, your clean white sneakers side by side on the floor, and megumi— sitting down next to your things and head snapping up upon hearing you come in, clicking his phone off and getting up off the couch.

“you got my things for me gumi..?” you murmured, your cheeks quickly going pink as you put your shoes on.

“yeah.” he grabbed the strap of your duffel bag and swung it over his shoulder, sliding his keys off the coffee table before extending a hand out for you, the other on the front door handle. “you ready?”

you grinned and took his awaiting hand. “to get sent home? yup!”

he playfully rolled his eyes and lead you out of his apartment to his car, him hoping that the little bit of help eased your nerves a bit as he popped open the trunk and set your stuff inside, the cool of the early morning air brushing through your skin and sending a shiver up your spine, you hurriedly getting in the car to get out of its frosty nipping as your boyfriend slammed the trunk shut and made his way around to the drivers seat, sliding in and closing the door.

“s’cold.” he mumbled, pressing the sleek ‘start’ button on his dash and igniting the engine to life, swiftly cranking up the intensity and temperature of the heater. “did you bring a jacket?”

“i did!” you reached into the backseat and grabbed it, showing it to him as he leaned over then to buckle your seatbelt for you.  

and when he clicked it secure, he paused, brows furrowing the tiniest bit as he looked at it.

“it’s thin baby.” he settled back in his seat and shifted the gear to reverse, pulling out of his parking space and zooming through the structure until he made it out on the streets. “take mine once we get there.”

“wha—” you gawked. “no gumi it’s okay! please don’t you’ll be cold…”

“i’m in a car with a heater.” he deadpanned. “you’re gonna be outside for most of the day on the field… take my jacket please.”

you grumbled and shifted your body to face the window.

you saw his eyes narrow at your change of position from the corner of your eyes, and you pursed your lips, holding back your snickers for the sake of your pride as he drove.

“turn back around.” he mumbled, making a left. “and you’re still taking my jacket.”

“nuh uh you’re so funny gumi to think that i’d ever listen—”  

“you’re taking it.”

“no.”

“y/n.”

“nopeity nope nop—”

he leaned over across the console and bit down on your cheek just as soon as he came to a red light, you squealing and squirming away in response as he leaned back in his seat and looked at your widened blinking eyes.

“pervert.”

he laughed at your dramatics and settled a palm over your bare thigh, giving it a gentle pull in his direction as a silly smile creeped up your lips then, shifting back over to face him and placing your own hand over his as he drove on.

much to megumi’s hope of relieving some more of your anxiety throughout the car ride— making small chats about your plans together for the weekend, soft sporadic pecks to your wrists and cheeks, or any little thing he could possibly think of to get you to just talk to him like you usually did… was all proven to be ineffective with the way you still sat in silence and looked out the window, switching between subconsciously picking at your nails or bouncing your knee or fiddling with the ends of your hair, not a peep out of your pretty mouth that he had been subtly trying to get moving all morning.

megumi loved how much you talked… and he very much disliked it when you didn’t, as the abnormal silence reminded him of a time in his life where he didn’t have you yet.

“are we on time?” he spoke up, taking a quick glance over at you as you snapped your head in his direction from the window, nodding.

“yes! i made sure to have thirty minutes of wiggle room heh.”

he hummed in acknowledgment. “how come.”

“so i have time to cry in the bathroom.”

he shot you a look and you laughed, your gaze shifting ahead to see that he was already pulling up to the football stadium, a chill shooting up your spine in response as you tried to not let your breathing go unsteady and make your nerves worse than they already were, your palms clamming up as you tucked a stray strand of hair behind you ear and told yourself not to be a fucking crybaby for once.

“just here at the front..?”

“mhm!”

he glanced at you for a quick moment and swallowed, looping around the parking lot until he found a space just by the main entrance, slowly pulling in and shifting his gear into park once he was settled.

you thought it was ironic that something you’d only ever dreamed of having before, spending years fangirling and following after one of the nfl’s most reputable cheer teams, admiring all that they did and never once actually thinking you could ever be in their shoes— the opportunity glimmering and exciting and right within arms reach… was the very same thing you were utterly terrified of… hesitant as you annoyingly remained seated in megumi’s passenger seat, agitated with yourself that you couldn’t just get your shit together and get out of the car.

you felt your man’s fingers slip through and interlace with yours, him bringing the back of your hand up to his lips and giving it a gentle lingering kiss, your heart fluttering at the sight as he lowered and set your locked hands over his lap, you looking at him with a little smile.

“back when i first tried out for the team i was really nervous.” he opened up, gaze down and him tenderly caressing over your skin with his thumb, you shifting your body a little to properly face him.

“you were?” you softly asked, and he nodded.

you didn’t know why the concept of megumi being nervous about baseball, the very sport he was an absolute god at, was hard for you to wrap your head around and comprehend.

“it was a private try out with just a few others that were scouted like i was.” he mumbled. “i almost didn’t go because i was so nervous about it.”

back then, before you… baseball was really the only thing he had that brought him the smallest sense of peace in his life from the suffocating isolation he otherwise felt everyday… and he didn’t want to fuck up the one sole thing that gave him that, because without it he wouldn’t have anything at all.

he was more than well aware that without baseball, he wouldn’t have you.

megumi leaned his head back against the headrest in thought, face blank.

“they had sent yuji off to a different stadium so i was entirely on my own… and there were so many evaluators and coaches and— scout directors… it was rare when scout directors were there for try outs.”

he frowned.

“and some dumb fuck decided it was a good idea to tell me that the reason they were there was to watch me.”

you softly giggled.

“it just made my nerves worse and i didn’t know how to make it better.”

he gradually tipped his head back down to his lap, gently untangling your interlocked hands and prying open your fingers to reveal your flat palm, wordlessly tracing figure eight’s onto it then with his index finger— his other hand cupping and holding it steady from underneath.  

“when it was almost my turn to go out on the field i started doing this with my hands… dunno why but for some reason it ended up helping me.”

the feather light movements from the pad of his finger sent little tickles through your skin, and you stifled a laugh and twitched a little, the corner of megumi’s lips quirking upward as he continued to draw.

“i’m really glad that it did gumi.” you sweetly replied. “do you ever still do it?”

he nodded. “before every game.”

your eyes softened as you stared at him, gaze flickering down to your hands and watching him begin to trace a little heart on your palm, you internally screaming at that as he lifted your hand and brought it back over to rest on your own lap.

“try it baby.” he murmured. “maybe it’ll help you.”

he really hoped it would.

you listened and flattened out your palm, your other hand coming over to draw tiny loops with the pad of your middle finger, mimicking what he’d done earlier as you softly smiled to yourself and thought about how nice megumi was to pass down something as precious and meaningful as this.

because to you, tracing absentminded figure eights and squiggles meant that megumi was right there with you through whatever it was that was making you so nervous to begin with, believing in you and cheering you on through the feeling of cutesy doodles on your skin, reminding you of the eternal comfort and warmth he brought to you every single day without you having to utter a single peep about it.

thinking of a world where you could be on one of the nfl’s top cheerleading teams was like asking for a million dollars to just— poof to life and settle at your feet… but funnily enough, you had thought that very same thing about megumi, and yet here he was beside you— with your promise rings sitting pretty and twinkling on each other’s ring fingers, a bundle of memories stored in your little hearts that you’d curated so lovingly since the day you met.

you threw your arms around his neck then and wrung him in, megumi letting out a little surprised breath as he squeakily laughed and held you back, his nose dipping in the crook of your neck as he embraced you flush against his chest.

“thank you gumi!” you gushed, pulling away to press a series of quick pecks to his temple. “that made me feel so much better!”

“good.” he murmured against your skin, running a soothing hand up and down your back— satisfied that he was able to give back and be of some use to you at a time like this. “m’glad…”

megumi parted from your neck to look at you, the sight of your striking sunny face making his chest buzz as he leaned in and kissed you.

“get ‘em pretty baby.” he spoke softly against your lips. “you’ll do good.”

you lit up and kissed him again before pulling back and nodding, the both of you getting out of the car then and rounding your way to the trunk, megumi popping it open to retrieve your duffel bag for you.

“text me please. if you can.” he helped put the strap of your bag over your shoulder. “whenever you find the time.”

“i will! thank you gumi—” you stood on your tippy toes and quickly smooched his cheek, sending him a stunning smile after. “i’ll see you after okay? try not to go absolutely nuts without me and die.”

he snorted and gave you a singular nod.

“i’ll try.”

you gawked, eyes narrowing to slits. “you’ll try? oh! okay so you hate me then—”

“where did you even get that—”

“you just said you didn’t wanna yearn for me.”

“go inside.”

“oh! so now you wanna break up—”

“oh my god baby—”

maneuvering around the football stadium on the way to the dance room was like going through a fucking sick maze, the entirety of the team’s headquarters massive and yet sleek as you attempted to follow the directions the coaches had sent you via mass text, struggling to make sense of it while getting distracted every two seconds by every spacious conference room, every lounging area that was so elegant and pristine you nearly stopped multiple times just to test out the cushy looking sofas, and every never ending trophy hall you discovered, finding yourself comparing the size of it to megumi’s team headquarters— not knowing if this stadium was actually bigger… or if it just seemed like it was because you were unfamiliar with it.

but regardless, you could tell the team dropped big football money to get it to look as polished and brilliant as it did.

your phone buzzed and you looked down, the caller i.d. reading your best friend as you quickly hiked up your duffel bag and answered.

“hi babe!—”

“i’m fucking lost!” she cried. “this shit’s a labyrinth! a rich one! i can't even find the bathroom to pee!—”

you laughed and switched your phone to the other ear, proceeding to walk through the building again and hoping you’d somehow miraculously cross paths with her.

“tell me about it…” you mumbled, your eyes squinting over the various halls ahead of you and trying to decide which one to walk through. “every time i try to look at the map they sent i see a new plumpy couch i wanna sit on.”

“right?!” she gushed. “and i’m not saying our men’s headquarters are bad or anything… but this is actually crazy i feel like they could put this money towards a better coach though jesus—”

you snickered as you randomly decided to go towards the path to your right, stepping through another picture frame filled hall of the team’s endeavors throughout the seasons.  

“how come? i thought he was a good one.”

“mmm his hair is too spiky.” she muttered. “i think i just have a problem with spiky haired men— oh! i found it i found it! i see the girls locker room sign aw its so pretty!—”

“where?!” you panicked. “oh god babe where are you if i don’t stop going into random fucking rooms i’m gonna be late and get sent home—”

“shit! okay uhhhh have you walked by the main loft yet? the one with the big star on the ground—”

“huh?!” you stopped dead in your tracks and frantically looked around, your eyes going to the floor to see what freaking star she was talking about as terror started brewing up in your chest, your mind already concocting different scenarios of you getting there late and getting yelled at like a loser and disappointing everyone you had ever come to know and love in your life—

“what star?!” you cried, spinning around on your heel and hastily walking the other direction. “i— i don’t see a star all i see is gorgeous furniture and more rooms i wanna go intoowuuhh!—”

“okay— describe your surroundings i’ll try and find you—”

“no! you just found it i feel like you’re gonna get lost—”

“fuck! no okay tell me how—” 

you suddenly collided against something hard and stumbled back, your phone slipping from your hand and clattering to the ground as you lost your balance and teetered back, a pair of hands shooting out then to snatch your wrists— yanking you upright and saving you from the shit you were just about to eat on the floor.

“i’m so sorry!” a voice sputtered. “i— i wasn’t looking where i was going and i didn’t notice you—”  

your gaze landed ahead on a football player from the team— dressed in his gear with widened remorseful eyes as they quickly scoured over you, his gaze dropping to the floor and bulging at the sight of your phone face first on the ground, snapping his body down to retrieve it before handing it back to you.

“shit is your phone okay? if— if it’s not i can replace it i swear it i’m really sorry—”

the fidgety bashful man in front of you was sort of— kind looking to you… and you flashed him a reassuring smile, shaking your head and waving him off.

“no its okay! don’t be sorry!” you sweetly expressed. “i wasn’t looking where i was going either heh… i’m lost like a moron and trying to find my way around.”

he breathed out a laugh then, nodding and shoulders gradually relaxing as he scratched the back of his neck.

“you’re a cheerleader for my team..? right?”

“uh huh!” you nodded. “well— auditioning… but i sure as fuck won’t be doing that either if i can’t find the damn locker rooms—”

“oh! i’ve seen a few times where it is.” he blinked down at you, a small smile on his face as he lowered his arm. “i could— i could take you there? if that’s okay with you? or i can try to find you a physical guide—”

“oh my— would you actually?” you asked hopefully. “i would really appreciate that! but— only if you absolutely can i don’t want to keep you away from anything you have to do…”

“no its okay!” he grinned. “practice doesn’t start for another hour i got time.”

he was so nice!

“thank you!” you gushed, and he nodded, the both of you making your way out of the random hallway you were just in and out towards the main area by the indoor field, you following close behind him as your eyes once again drank in your surroundings, yet this time with a little less anxiety knowing you were being helped by someone who actually knew their way around.

“are you guys doing training camp right now?” the football player spoke up, looking back at you from over his geared-up shoulder as you picked up the pace a bit to match him.

“mhm! we are.” you grinned. “i’m surprised you know! i thought most football players didn’t really care much about their cheerleaders.”

“they usually don’t…” he gave you an apologetic smile. “i just doze off a lot during practice and notice you guys dancing out on the field sometimes.”

you laughed at that, nodding in understanding and realizing that the picture frames on the walls were gradually transitioning from the football players to the cheerleaders instead, their own trophies and awards glimmering and bright in their glass casings as you made your way through.

“how long have you been on the team?” you asked him.

“not too long! this is my second year in.” he replied, rounding a corner with you and your eyes catching view of the girls locker rooms up ahead— their cursive titled logo indeed sitting pretty and glamorous overtop the main doors. “we actually just finished with our own training camp and got the official roster.”

“oh how exciting! did you guys get any new players?”

“just a few.” he smiled down at you. “not too many. i’m surprised i didn’t get released or traded off though! hah… lucky me…”

you looked at him bewildered just as soon as you both stopped in front of the locker rooms.

“wait why would—”

“y/n! my baby oh thank god!—”

you recognized the voice to be your best friend as she flung her arms around you and pulled you in for a hug, your eyes instantly brightening and a wave of relief washing over your body as you embraced her back.

“oh my god hiiiii! look look i made it!”

“you did! fantastic job amazing job now let’s go through hazing for the next nine hours.”

you laughed. “yes! oh gimme me a sec—”

turning your attention back up to the football player, you gave him sweet smile and extended a hand.

“thank you so much for helping me!” you beamed. “without you i don’t think i would’ve ever made it here or even found my way out.”

he giggled and nodded once again, his own palm quickly coming out to clasp yours in a warm handshake.

“no worries! i’m glad i was able to.”

“and i’m sure you not getting traded off or released was for a very good reason.” you brought up gently, and he paused. “so take that into account and just do your best! okay?”

he held your gaze for a moment, the cogs in his brain turning briefly until a ginormous shining smile spread across his face then, making him look even kinder and friendlier than before as he vigorously nodded.

“yeah! yeah okay! thank you!” your hands separated. “what’s your name? if— if you don’t mind me asking?”

“y/n! and you?”

“okkotsu! yuta okkotsu.”

“nice to meet you, yuta!” you grinned. “hopefully i’ll see you around? if i don’t get on the chopping block?”

he laughed and flashed you a thumbs up, taking a step to the side before beginning his journey back out to his side of the stadium.

“i’m sure you won’t.” he cheesed. “do your best too!”

and you happily nodded then, the two of you waving each other goodbye as you and your girl friend watched him make his way down the hall until he was out from view, her readjusting the strap of her duffel bag on her shoulder and turning to you.

“who the fuck was that.”

you giggled and linked your arm with hers then, leading her to the entrance.

“a player on the team. i accidentally ran into him and he offered to help me find the locker rooms... he was so nice!”

she hummed, her brow slowly rising and smirking as you stepped through the doors, walking into a bustling busy bright room with handfuls of other girls doing their makeup and hair.

“don’t tell megumiiii.” she dragged, the two of you finding an open spot on a bench. “or he’ll get jelly.”

you amusedly rolled your eyes and the both of you sat, setting your duffel bags down on the ground beside your feet.

“no he won’t it’s not like that—”

“uh— yes he most definitely will the ogre literally sucker punched ino in the face.”

your eyes widened and you sat upright. “oh my god i literally forgot about that—”

“yeah don’t babe or your new football buddy is next—”

“alright girlies huddle up!”

you both tensed and whipped your heads around, your gaze stopping on the very same captain that you’d met at the halloween party— still so gorgeous and put together as her eyes scoured over the lot of you.

“congratulations on making it past the preliminaries and to training camp!” she exclaimed. “that’s such a huge accomplishment and an opportunity not a lot of girls get a chance to experience! so be proud!”

you and your girl friend exchanged quick awkward glances.

because what the hell did you both even do? what were you even doing here?

“we’re gonna start heading into the dance room now with coach yumi and hina, so please finish up and make your way over in the next two minutes okay? you guys can leave your stuff here just remember where you put it—”

chatter filled the jittery air again as everyone began moving their things out of the way or curling their last pieces of hair, excitement yet tension sizzling about in the room as all the girls attempted to prepare for the straight out unexpected, your best friend sending you a wary reassuring smile before bending down to retrieve her water bottle from her bag.

“we’ll be okay.” she reached a hand over and squeezed your upper arm. “if we get sent home we get sent home it's whatever.”

you nodded. “at least we’re dating men from the mlb.”

she cackled and quickly nodded, throwing an arm around your shoulders as the two of you started following the crowd— walking out of the locker rooms and a bit of ways down the hall.

“you’re absolutely right babe! nfl men are butt ugly anyways its straight slim pickings for the rest of these girlies—”

“i’m glad you guys came out!”

you jerked your heads to the side and saw the captain herself, walking alongside you with a polite expression and a set of pompoms in her hands— the glimmering frills a mix of navy blue, gray and white as they shined against the light.

“oh hi!” you greeted kindly. “yes of course! we wouldn’t be here at all if it wasn’t for you, so we can’t thank you enough!”

your girl friend agreed alongside you and she laughed, waving you both off as she cheekily grinned.

she was so undeniably beautiful and friendly that your jaw just about physically hit the floor.

“you guys made me laugh so much at that party i think i peed.” she snorted. “charm and personality are extremely vital for a group like this, since we get a lot of exposure by the media.”

she shook out her pompoms before handing them over to you, you gratefully taking them from her and ogling at the pretty frills, rotating them in your hands.

“coach yumi and hina are looking to break tradition this year on the down low… they wanna see the kind of dynamic the team could create if they had talent come in from other unique ways.”  

you all entered the dance room then, shoes squeaking against the reflective hardwood flooring as she paved the way— your eyes taking no time at all to spot yumi and hina themselves sitting in their respective tall director chairs.

“so show them something different okay?” the captain smiled, her reaching out to quickly smooth over both you and your best friend’s bedazzled athletic attire— straightening it out a bit and fixing anything that was out of place. “but still blend in of course! you guys are gorgeous already so you’re good to go.”

you and your best friend laughed, grateful that she was the kindest ever and gave the two of you the time of day— comforting you and showing you the ropes in any way she was allowed to, and doing it so graciously too amongst forty five other tryouts.

“i’ll check in with you guys in a little bit. just let them see what i saw!”

“okay!” your best friend called out. “thank you!”

and the captain nodded with a sparkling smile, spinning on her heel and jogging up to the leadership circle by the coaches.

“what did she see man?” you mumbled, and your girl friend heavily sighed, hanging her head and lightly scuffing her shoes against the flooring.

“two drunk girls.” she muttered. “being stupid—”

“alright rookies!” coach yumi called out. “we’re gonna start running through the numbers in groups of five!”

you swallowed the seeming boulder in your throat as you followed the crowd and huddled over to the side of the dance room, your heart utterly racing a thousand miles a second as you felt your hands start to grow cold— trembling and the evidence showing through the slight shake of your pompoms against the light.

your hands.

looking down, you slowly tucked your pompoms underneath an arm and opened up your hand, digits spreading flat as you used the middle finger of your other hand to softly trace over the skin— delicate and slow and grounding… the action making you focus solely on the silly figures you were doodling on your skin, and not the overwhelming constant yapping of your overprotective mind attempting to already shield you from the gutting feeling of rejection.

it made you focus on megumi… your head substituting your finger with his, flashing the memory of just the two of you in his car— giggling and soft as he traced a little heart over the lines of your palm.

you smiled to yourself then, your nerves gradually dissipating with every drag of looping hearts that you made this time, repeating it over and over until your breathing evened out and you felt okay to look up again.

“ready rookies?!” coach hina called out.  

“group one start us off!”

for the next nine hours you and your best friend grinded with the rest of the rookies, as you not only performed and polished the routine they had expected you to come prepared with, but were taught three additional dances that they wanted you to get down and practically nail for the most part by the end of the day, each a different style and rhythm as every choreographer who explained the routines had their own way of teaching that you tried your best to follow, it at times contradicting with the way you learned as you simultaneously attempted to keep up with the fucking ludicrous speed of it all.

depending on the reason and situation, you all individually were complimented, critiqued, scolded, and reprimanded as you went, and by the end of the day— after spending hours dancing and shaking pompoms, sweating your asses off, shimming your hips, and traveling yards across the field to eventually end up doing their signature jump split that you thankfully only fucked up once, the final hour of day one training camp had taken its course, with no one violating criteria too badly that earned them a reason to be sent home and eliminated from making the team.

“i can’t feel my fucking legs.” you breathed out, exhausted as you packed up your things alongside your best friend in the locker rooms, every girl in there sharing the same sentiment of fatigue and literal burn out as they tidied up to go home.

“you know what’s so funny?” she mumbled, attempting to pick up her duffel bag but dragging it weakly across the floor instead. “i never knew i had back problems until today.”

you giggled, zipping up your duffel bag and hoisting it over your shoulder. “oh my god those jump splits were murdering me.”

“don’t let them.” she miserably shook her head. “how else are we gonna let our men hit it from the back if our tailbones are shattered—”

“babe!” your cheeks went pink, head whipping around to see if anyone heard her.  

“what?!” she threw her arms out. “girl i’m doing you a favor didn’t you tell me megumi loves doggy?”

you perked up in remembrance. “he does! but he told me his absolute fav is missionary because he can see my face—”

“—aw! wait that’s cute i love that no complaints—”

“right! right!—”

you felt your phone buzz then in the pockets of your duffel bag, you reaching and digging around for a moment— pulling it out then to reveal a flashing picture of you and your boyfriend with your cheeks mushed together and snuggly, your heart leaping as you picked up.

“hi gumi!”

“hi baby.” he spoke over the other line, butterflies in your stomach over the sound of his deep voice that you horrendously missed and hadn’t heard all day. “i just got here… i parked in the same spot as this morning if that’s okay.”

“oh yes! that’s fine gumi thank you.” you kindly replied, both you and your best friend starting to make your way out of the locker rooms and through the labyrinth of a stadium again. “i’m heading over there now we just got dismissed.”

“mkay.” you heard some shuffling on the other line. “i’ll see you soon then—”

your best friend shoved her lips next to the speakers of your phone.

“i heard how much you like missionary megumiiii!” she teased. “reward y/n tonight for her oh so very hard work and get down to business—”

you screamed and jerked your body away from hers, your cheeks growing hot as you held a hand over your mouth, her cackling at your reaction.

“i can never go a day without her big mouth in my ear can i…” he grumbled, his own neck spiking in temperature. “tell her to knock it off—”

“is that my woman?!” a different familiar voice cut in, one you recognized to be yuji’s as you giggled and put your phone on speaker. “i heard her voice! ask her how many football men tried to get her number and to tell them i know how to fight—”

“—get— off me—”

“you should be worried too megumi we’re no longer safe those football men are fiends! man fiends!—”

you both had just made it past the exit of the stadium when you came across your men literally wrestling each other in the parking lot— yuji jumping directly on top of megumi’s back as he tried to snatch the phone from his ear, your boyfriend struggling and jerking under his weight with the most pissed off look you’d seen on him all week, you hovering a hand over your mouth to try and mask your snickers as you watched, hanging up the phone.

“itadori you’re heavy as shit get off—”

yuji scoffed. “no i’m not! i’m as light as a feather thank you very much—”

“you’re heavy.”

“am not!”

“off.”

“just imagine y/n getting buttered up by a football player then what—”

“OFF!—”

“okay! okay—” you chuckled, coming up to megumi and ruffling his spiky hair a little. “easy gumi.”

he looked at you with an expressionless face.

“help.”

and you laughed again, yuji springing off megumi then and nearly toppling him over as soon as he spotted your best friend, walking to her with his arms extended before he yanked her in a tight embrace.

“hey babe!” he cheesed. “missed you! how was your first day?”

“it was good yu!” she grinned, looking up at him with a pinky hue to her cheeks, pulling apart and interlacing her fingers with his. “except i think my back is breaking! but no biggie! this is what it takes to be a cheerleader.”

a brief flash of concern crossed yuji’s face, eyebrows coming to a furrow as he slowly took her duffel bag from her shoulder and swung it over his.

“what— is it… really?” he questioned, looking over her frame for any visible signs of injury. “are you— sure..?—”

“yes yu.” she smiled, whipping her head around to face you. “right babe?”

“yup yup!” you cheekily grinned, giving them a thumbs up as the men eyed you both.

“and what about you.” megumi mumbled, his eyes skeptically scanning your body. “does something hurt?”

“just my legs.” you shrugged, blinking up at him with a sweet smile. “and my feet. and my arms. and my head. and my heart. and my—”

“alright we’re leaving.”  

he swiftly took your duffel bag from your shoulder and looped it over himself like nothing, as if it hadn’t weighed literally a thousand fucking pounds to you all day and nearly broke your back out, him taking your hand with no questions asked as you giggled and quickly looked behind you.

“bye you guys!” you waved, yuji and your girl friend happily mirroring you before they turned away as well.

“and you said this was for the next two weeks?” megumi spoke as you walked to his car. “auditions?”

“mhm!” you hummed, though him quick to notice from the corner of his eye how you literally winced with almost every step you took, or how you pulled your lips into a thin line when you helped load your things into his trunk and bent your body a certain way, simmering worry gnawing at the back of his head.

“i don’t know how i feel about you guys having back to back auditions with no rest days…” megumi mumbled, closing the trunk. “you’ll get really tired baby…”

“but don’t you do that gumi?” you raised brow. “with the team?”

he looked at you and pursed his lips.

“so.”

you laughed and grabbed the fabric of his hoodie by the collar, gently bringing him down to press a kiss to his cold cheek, looking at him directly after with a tilt to your head as you smiled.

“i’ll be okay baby don’t worry about me.” you murmured, your tired little eyes doing nothing to help him abide by your request, but instead making it worse as he sighed softly through his nose and slowly straightened up, your hand slipping from his hoodie in the process as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, bringing you in to his chest and resting his cheek against the top of your head.

you could tell your man was thinking, and you felt bad about how much he was concerning himself over you when he should be more focused on things that actually mattered more— like the fact that the world series was fast approaching for him, you not wanting to be an added stressor to the heavy bundle he was already carrying from the team and management.

“what gumi?” you softly asked, snaking your arms around his torso and giving him a squeeze. “i promise i’m okayyy! really! i’m just a tiny bit tired is all nothing more than that… me thinks i just need a sandwich and one specifically from that cafe down the street from my campus—”

“me thinks you’re lying.”

you giggled at his use of your own jargon, shaking your head and propping your chin up on his chest with a grin.

“silly silly man… no more thinking you’re banned from thinking.” you murmured, the feeling of his warm arms around you so cozy and soothing against the cold that it nearly put you to sleep right there, your eyelids beginning to droop as you started to feel the reality of your exhaustion. “i’m okay gumi. swear it.”

you thought about how lucky you were to have a man who fussed and huffed over your wellbeing so much, even going as far as to picking up your own worries and settling them on his back for you, so you could deal with them together, a thing that he absolutely never had to do and shouldn’t… but chose to anyway simply because he’s pure hearted.

his devotion to the things that mattered most to him was always one of your ultimate most favorite traits about him, a fact you could blab on and on about without ever shutting up, and something you deeply admired and found yourself looking for in other people as it had subconsciously set the standard for you for life.

you slid your hands up his chest then and mushed his cheeks together, cutting off his worried silly muttering as you brought his face down and kissed him— slow and soft with the tips of your chilly red noses brushing against each other every time you shifted, megumi’s annoyance flying out the window in seconds as he relaxed into your mouth.

you parted from his lips with a little chuu.

“i can’t thank you enough for worrying about me gumi.” you murmured sweetly. “but i’m a big girl and i promise you i can take a little tussle… okay?”

he huffed softly through his nose, leaning his forehead gently against yours.

regardless of what you asked of him, and regardless of how many times the two of you circled back to this same topic... megumi would continue to worry about you for as long as you wanted him around.

and he knew you could. he knew you had the ability to stand up for yourself and be resilient on your own terms whenever needed without him... but he figured it must’ve been because he was a sick fuck who didn’t know how to ever leave you alone that made it hard for him to let you do just that, for he didn’t particularly like the idea of you not needing him in some aspects to begin with, choosing instead to swallow his pathetic urge to smother and let you have your way with things.

but that was something megumi was taking to the grave.

“mkay.” he spoke lowly, lifting his forehead and pressing a quick peck to yours before pulling away entirely, reaching out to close the trunk of his car. “but tell me if you get overwhelmed please... alright?”   

you quickly nodded. “i will!”

the degree of discipline and precision that came with the cheer team was something you didn’t mind in the fucking slightest, because although it was intimidating and demanding and rather harsh at times... it was that exactly that made them so good.  

it brought consistency and prestige, it brought opportunities from across the country with other football teams and organizations that many other cheer teams could only ever dream of getting the privilege to have, and it brought notability to each and every girl who managed to actually make the team— their recognition and personality living on in the cheerleading community for years to come.

and you wanted so badly to be a part of something like that... you wanted something of your own to work for and take care of and just be— cool like your megumi was with his team... as his passion and loyalty to baseball inspired you so much and had you itching to follow in his footsteps and show that you could be just like him, the fact pushing you to keep going regardless of your blundering insecurities and mishaps.

you wanted to show him that you could do it... you wanted megumi to be proud of you.

which is exactly why for the two weeks that followed you worked your ass off in auditions to try and accomplish just that, all the way until the very last day of training camp.

you hoped that when the official roster was sent out then, that you were at least fucking home and locked away in your room so you could rightfully bawl your eyes out upon finding out that you didn’t make it.

but what you hadn’t expected... was for emails to be sent out in the middle of the god damn night— snoozing away in the arms of your man as you suddenly stirred by the relentless buzzing of your phone on megumi’s nightstand.

inhaling a quick breath, you groggily lifted your head from the pillow and looked over your shoulder— peeking a drowsy eye open and rubbing away the blurriness with your fist as you tried to adjust your line of sight to the bright light coming from your screen, sleepy confusion written all over your face while you thought of who the hell was texting you at this hour, your perplexion though gradually shifting to worry as you realized that it could possibly be an emergency from your family back home.

you rubbed your eyes some more and rolled over, megumi’s heavy arms slipping from your body in the process as you reached for your phone, fumbling through the darkness for a bit before finally feeling your device and retrieving it, the brightness of your screen making you squint your eyes again as you dumbly tapped away through god knows what, attempting to decipher the mass amount of emails that just got delivered to your inbox.

it took almost no time at all for megumi’s dreamy mind to notice that he couldn’t feel you anymore, his brain slowly waking up as a result as he drowsily began to feel around the sheets for you through closed eyelids, his brows coming to a tiny furrow once he still couldn’t locate you— sluggishly rolling to his back then and dragging an arm over his eyes to rid away some of the sleep.

he let his arm lazily fall and he turned his head to the side, slowly blinking his lids open and gaze searching around through the darkness for a bit until they landed on your back.

oh.

his frame relaxed at the sight of you and he shifted over to his side, closing his eyes again and arms reaching out to snake around your waist, you letting out a little sleepy giggle at the feeling of him repeatedly nudging and pulling you to scooch and come on back.  

“m’sorry gumi.” you let his arms bring you in and you moved onto your back, phone still in hand as you softly kissed his cheek in apology before continuing to scroll through emails that still looked like a bunch of gibberish to you. “i didn’t mean to wake you.”

megumi grunted in response, drawing you in closer until his bare chest met your shoulder, planting his face into your hair and deeply sighing.

“s’okay...” he sleepily mumbled. “what’s wrong.”

“nothing baby.” you murmured, running a soothing palm over the arm that was over your tummy. “my phone kept going off and it woke me up... m’trying to read what the hell—”  

—congratulations on making the team! we are pleased to offer you a spot on this year’s sweethearts roster for the upcoming nfl season—

you shot up in bed then, megumi’s eyes flying open as he shot up with you and whipped his head in your direction scared out of his mind, worry spiking up his spine over your sudden erratic breathing as he pinched his brows and reached for you.

“jesus! what what—”

“how?! oh my god literally how—”

“y/n—” he gently grabbed your cheeks and made you face him, his gaze searching over your shocked expression and growing even more fucking confused at the drastic change. “you okay? what happened—”

“i feel light headed.” you blurted, heaving. “i’m gonna pass out. or die. or both— no wait i think i'm gonna puke—”

“okay— breathe y/n...” he let go of your cheeks and ran a comforting hand up and down your back, the other settling over your belly as he craned his neck down to your phone on your lap, trying to decipher what the hell you saw that got you like this.

“don’t scare me pretty...” he softly spoke, eyes squinting over the tiny letters on your screen. “talk to me please.”

when his gaze drifted back up to your face and he caught sight of your bottom lip wobbling with shiny teary eyes, he paused.

“y/n?”

“i made the team.”

megumi stilled.

holy shit—

“you made it baby?” a slow big grin spread across his face. “yeah?”

“yeah!” you vigorously nodded, laughing through your tears as you threw your arms around him, his own wrapping around your torso so unbelievably tight and snug that you almost couldn’t even breathe, but you not giving more of a fuck in that moment as he dug his face into the nape of your neck, a breath of relief puffing through his lips as he thanked his lucky stars for letting this happen to you.

“see?” he murmured, placing a gentle palm on the back of your head to rub. “you were more than capable of making it y/n.”

“man i don't know how!” you burst in utter disbelief. “i— i fucked up so many times and i got a strike and then i accidentally ate shit on the field in front of the coaches because i messed up the count they— they saw it on that thingy! the big screen that makes me horny over you at your games—”

he snorted and rolled his eyes, pecking your neck before pulling away to look at you, his hands sliding down to rest comfortably on your hips.

“m’proud of you.” he gave you an endearing little squeeze. “all of that isn't important pretty baby you’re only human... they saw everything else that mattered and you need to be proud of yourself for that.”

you blinked.

“its not luck that got you a spot on the team… it was just you.” megumi leaned and planted a kiss to your forehead. “because you worked hard for it and deserved it.”

oh god you beamed at him then, a swirl of affection filling in your chest at his praise that made you want to jump him and kidnap him and lock him up for no other woman to see—

“except for that stupid strike.” he continued with a mumble, falling back on the bed and snatching you with him by the wrist, you letting out a giggly squeal as you toppled down— megumi's arm sliding underneath your body to pull you closer to his side, your cheek mushing against his warm bare chest.

“if i didn't have you gumi... i don't think i would've been able to do it.” you murmured softly. “or anything for that matter.”

his brows came to a furrow through closed eyelids.

“that’s not true.” he shook his head a little. “you absolutely can you’re capable of—”

“no gumi—” you propped yourself up on an elbow to face him straight on, him peeking an eye open to meet your serious stare with a bit of confusion.

“i don't think you understand how much of a pussy i actually am.” you laughed. “i always feel like... like all i know how to do is talk people’s ears off and be dumb but... since i've met you you’ve always made me feel so special baby...”

his eyes softened.

how the fuck could you not see how much you’ve changed his life? or submit yourself under a category so far from the definition of what special was?

you were everything and more to him.

“i had honestly already made peace with the fact that i was more than likely not making it because i truthfully just— didn’t know what the hell i was doing.”

you scooched yourself up a bit to level with megumi, staring down at him with the kindest smile.

“but you were just too sweet to me gumi. every day when you packed my things and made me breakfast... i couldn’t help but force myself and just try it even if i was the biggest airhead in there. you gave me the courage to do it.”

you brushed through his spiky bangs, fingers trailing down to tenderly caress his pink cheek as your promise ring glistened in the moonlight.

“i wanted you to be proud of me and see me the way i see you... so thank you.”

if it was possible for megumi to implode and die from where he lay before coming back to life to smother you up, he would’ve done it the second those precious shy words left your lips, with you looking at him like that and the way you were being so soft with him... showering him in appreciation that he knew he didn’t deserve any of.

and he found himself thanking his lucky stars once more that he actually ended up being useful to you.

expressionless, he raised an index finger and gently pushed your forehead.

“brat.”

you giggled.

“what i do now?—”

“i see the world of you.”  

you faltered as he used the same finger to then slowly trace down the outline of your pretty nose, his rough skin feeling over the shape before stopping at the tip.

“and i love you more than anything.” he whispered. “please be nicer to yourself.”

every time you expressed that you or others felt you talked too much, or that you thought you weren’t capable of doing great things when you absolutely fucking could and have been, made megumi want to claw his skin off and yell at everything in your life that convinced you of that nonsensical bullshit every single time it came up, like now. again.

he hoped he would never cross paths with your stupid ex boyfriend.

 “please.” he whispered again, his tone and face so pleading that it made your heart ache. “for me.”

and you damn near melted into puddy against him, nodding your head as you pressed wet smacking kisses to his cheek again and again.

“awwww gumiiii!” you cooed. “yes! i'll do it i'll do it from now on i don't talk enough i'm merely a silent little mouse who needs to open her mouth more for not just talking but sucking on your fat yummy di—”

megumi's hand shot out and squished your cheeks together, cutting you off.

“please no baby i'm gonna end up fucking you until seven in the morning if you keep talking like that.”

you gasped.

“the fuck? what— why wouldn’t i want that? that's a brilliant idea and me thinks we should get naked now—”

you bolted onto his lap to straddle him, him quick to catch you by the torso with an amused smile— proceeding to then wrestle each other through the darkness whilst megumi laughed and snickered at every failing sneaky attempt you made to surpass his strength, holding on tightly to your struggling wrists as your giggles filled his room so lovingly, that he couldn’t help the way his enamored brain short circuited and accidentally let his grip slip as a result.

taking the obvious opportunity, you snatched your wrists away and lunged for the hem of his loose t-shirt, pulling up just enough to reveal his god given pelvic v-line before he engulfed you entirely by the arms and snagged you down to his chest, his mouth to your ear as you wiggled in his strong hold and tried to break your own arms free from his literal entrapment.

what is megumi’s team feeding these men?—

“me thinks you don’t know what you're asking for.” megumi mumbled, his breath misty and warm against your ear as you stilled. “me thinks i'll have you stuffed up just like this ‘till morning... fucking you without a break if you keep this up rubbing your little lips all over my dick.”

heat rose to your face and you bit down on the inside of your cheek, his vulgar words doing everything but getting you to do what he wanted you to do, instead shooting straight to your clit and causing you to squirm and lamely attempt to tighten your thighs around him a little to ease the pulse.

“b—but gumi...” your tiny voice trembled as you spoke, forehead falling on his shoulder. “you haven’t— we haven’t— done anything in a while...”

you felt ridiculous for sounding so whiny and pathetically desperate, but it was true... any attempt that you had previously made ever since starting auditions was like megumi had sworn celibacy for some reason, gently diverting your advances with soft rejections and promises to make it up to you.

but the truth was that megumi felt like he was being burned alive with every time he told your pretty face and pleading eyes a big fat lying no.

he wanted you to stay focused and perform your absolute best at training camp and school, refusing to add to the layers of exhaustion you already had by pounding you into his mattress and sending you off to auditions with sore thighs and bite mark littered skin, his restraint literally painful and him feeling unbelievably guilty whenever you hopefully asked for it.

because dear god how he wanted you... how he missed the feeling of you wrapped around him...

but he wanted you to properly rest.

he tightened his hold around you and screwed his eyes shut, nose burying further into the strands of your silky hair as he swallowed and tried not to let how sweet and needy you sounded get to his head.

“i know baby...” he muttered. “but not tonight alright... i want you to sleep please you’ve barely gotten any these past few weeks.”

you grumbled and sat up, his arms slipping from around you as you did so.

“gumi i'm fine i sweaarrr!” you whined, palms flat on his chest. “sleep is for the weak anyways and i'm not a bitch so—”

he snorted, a small smile playing at his lips as he raised a hand and tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear, fingers trailing down after to gently grab your chin.

“sleep.” he pushed pointedly. “we’re going to sleep.”

you huffed and crossed your arms, accepting defeat and sliding off to plop down flat on the bed next to him, megumi trying to ignore the familiar guilt pitting in his chest again as he immediately reached out and pulled you back into him.

“okay gumi.” you spoke softly, your tone evidently laced in disappointment even though you knew damn well his reasoning did hold some truth to it, exhaustion beginning to creep up your bones as you basked in megumi’s warmth.  

“if anything i bet the coaches will give us a small break...” you murmured tiredly, eyelids slowly drooping. “so hopefully i do catch up a little on sleep...”

except they didn’t.

you had found out the following morning that your best friend had also thankfully made the cut, the two of you over the freaking moon and utterly shocked at how in the living hell you managed to pull it off and stupidly make it on the cheer team despite everything that you did wrong, screaming and hyperventilating to each other over the phone as your respective men once again sat back dumbfounded and blinking at your incoherent rapid blubbering.

though your gushes and coos over at last getting to wear your rightfully earned uniforms without the haunting thought of getting booted, or how excitingly eventful your lives would be like now was short lived with the way the coaches sent out mass emails about scheduling and upcoming events not even an hour after the official roster dropped, the biggest of course being the football team’s homecoming game that was coming up just around the corner.

yumi and hina only gave you guys two fucking days to recuperate from the borderline tiresome slaughter they put you through during training camp before they called all the girls back, and you grew increasingly more worried once it finally decided to settle and sink in your little brain about how you’d have to find a way to juggle your classes, your homework, and studying on top of the team's already demanding responsibilities...

but as odd and daunting as it was, you found yourself eager to figure it out instead of being put off by how intimidating or impossible it seemed. you were eager to make something more of who you were besides the ordinary academic aspect that’d been a part of your life for as long as you could remember. 

you were eager to continue making your man proud.

and cutely, no one was silently more excited about your homecoming game performance than megumi was.

he was undoubtedly looking forward to seeing you out there.

he was looking forward to seeing you happy.

“do you think it’s worth it if i buy the two piece combo? or the three? or what if i just get nachos—”

readjusting his black shades, megumi deeply sighed through his nose and leaned his weight on one side, eyes scanning the concession stand against his will to see what yuji was spending literally thirty fucking minutes on trying to decide what to eat for the game, them surrounded by the clattering noise of the football stadium— the arena rowdy and a bit more rambunctious than what he had initially expected or was used to, seeing as his experience relied solely on what only baseball crowds were like.

“well what do you want...” he mumbled, growing increasingly more agitated and fidgety at the possibility of him missing your pregame performance because he was freaking stuck here, the wrapper of the pinky bouquet he got for you crinkling under his arm as he shifted.

“hmmm...” yuji pursed his lips to the side in thought, setting his hands on his hips as his greedy little eyes scoured over the menu. “the two piece combo comes with a hot dog... maybe i should get that!”

“so get it.” megumi spat, anxiously tapping his foot and looking over his shoulder to catch a fast glimpse of the field behind him, confirming that nothing was going on yet before turning his attention back to the concession stand. “and hurry up—”

“actually— i think i'm feeling popcorn instead i might get gassy from the hot dog and i don’t wanna miss anything—”

“so then get popcorn—”

“fuck but my girl loves nachos if i get that i can save her some for after the game and she’ll thank me with a little kiss—”

“itadori.” megumi checked his watch. “hurry the hell—”

“actually maybe i won’t get anything it looks like the team gets enough money as it is megumi i mean— did you see the statue they had out front? my god it makes us look broke as hell—”

“get the two piece combo and the nachos and the popcorn and let’s go.” megumi snapped through gritted teeth. “they’re dancing in ten minutes dude and we still don’t even know where the fucking vip section is—”

yuji gasped. “oh fushiguro you’re a god damn genius i forgot i had free will for a second— hi! yes can i get the—”

megumi turned his back and walked a few steps away from the stand for the sake of not losing it where he stood, his jaw locked at yuji’s zero sense of urgency as his gaze looked over the large field from down below— a few football players already out on the sidelines performing warmups or doing small practice kicks with a ball.

he was sporting the darkest shades he owned to avoid being recognized and keep this day purely about you and only you to the best of his ability, afraid and heavily disliking the possibility of him getting so bombarded by paparazzi, that it’d prevent him from watching your performance and missing it.

he'd been dying to see you all dolled up and dancing...

“gumi gums what the hell are you doing still standing here and not where you’re supposed to be—”

megumi snapped his head to the source and gawked.

gojo.  

“you’re here?” his eyes trailed down and widened at the black compression shirt he was wearing with your literal face on it, his dad’s arms stuffed full of piles of snacks and merchandise from your cheer team.

“how— what the fuck are you doing here and where the fuck did you get that shirt—”

“oh this old thing?!” satoru wildly grinned, wiggling his brows as he turned his flexed body to and fro to show it off. “why i got it custom made just for this grandiose occasion my son! you really think i'd miss my sweet future daughter in laws debut? after she herself invited me? you silly silly grumpy boy—”

you had not told him that.

megumi raised his unoccupied hand and rubbed his temple, irritated at satoru.

“you’re gonna creep her out gojo take it off.”

“absolutely not.” he turned his head to the side in defiance and pursed his lips like a little fish. “the only thing i'm doing is showing my undying support for her that she adores because unlike your team, her team actually loves me and doesn’t ban me for common human mistakes—”

“yet.”

“megs— if you’re jealous of me having a shirt with your wife on it just say that. i can order another one for you. so stop pouting.” satoru tsked with a raised wagging index finger, spinning around on his heel then and moving ahead. “haven’t i taught you sharing is caring? also where’s your boy yuji? both of your ladies put me next to you guys i was wondering why the seats were still empty when i got there—”

“satoru!” 

a flash of pink zipped through megumi’s line of sight before he caught yuji flinging himself at gojo in an embrace, scattered pieces of popcorn flying through the air and dispersing all over the floor as the two men funnily gushed and raved, a boastful rich laugh slipping through satoru’s open mouth while megumi tensed, his jaw setting at the quizzical stares he noticed they were all getting by anyone who passed.

they were attracting so much fucking attention and running the risk of getting recognized—

“aw my second son hellooo!” gojo flashed him a sparkling smile, shuffling around some of the merchandise he bought to free his arm, swinging it over yuji’s shoulders with a pat to the head. “how are you holding up hm? still good? you nervous?”

“no yeah i— i'm good!” yuji weakly grinned, gulping as satoru released him. “for now... until— until i have to... oh god!”

megumi rolled his eyes and stepped forward, hooking an arm through yuji’s and dragging him away as he moved.

“you’ll be fine now can we go.” he mumbled. “we’re lucky enough as it is that no one’s recognized your screaming—”

“and now... ladies and gentlemen, here they are!”

megumi froze in place.

“your sweetheart’s of the season!—”

the spiky haired boy whipped his head around in desperation, locking eyes with his dad.

“satoru please!” he yelled over the rumbling roars of the crowd. “please take us to the vip section—”

“often imitated... never duplicated!—”

yuji raked his fingers through his hair in a panic.

“oh my god no oh my god my wife—”

“HOLY FUCK GO!” gojo zoomed past the both of them, nearly knocking each over. “GO MY KIDS COME THIS WAY!—”

the three men booked it through the mass of unruly whistling fans, the warm stuffy air whipping through megumi’s hair and clothes as he held your bouquet tight to his chest, pushing and squeezing through people just to keep up with satoru’s ludicrous speed and praying that nothing was happening yet, that you were just walking out on the field and settling into your formation, that you weren’t actively searching for him now where you told him to be seated, that you weren’t— sad to notice and see that he wasn’t fucking there yet.

his eyes switched to the massive screen in the middle of the stadium as they all barreled down the steps to get to the very bottom, gaze dead locked on your cheer team’s introduction promotional video, playing loudly throughout the arena’s speakers and showcasing each of the cheerleaders in their own little spotlight— sparkling uniforms that bedazzled against the lighting, swaying and rustling their pompom’s with smiles on their faces, your gorgeous smiling face popping up amidst the different scenes that made megumi’s grumpy heart swell up in his chest.

the feeling was brief though as it plummeted once the screen switched to your team in real time, already in your corresponding formations and commencing the pregame performance.

“the pride of the nfl...”

“i see them i see them they're right there!” yuji sputtered, pointing up ahead just as they reached the bottom to security, all of them fumbling around for their identification cards and tickets to get through to the vip section, megumi digging in his pockets as his head shot up in the direction yuji was signaling at to spot you.

“your very own... heartline cheerleaders!”

the crowd fucking thundered into a fit of roars and claps just as the men got the clear and stumbled in, satoru quickly leading them to their seats and barely dropping their shit down before spinning back around, satoru and yuji hooting and hollering the loudest megumi thought he’d ever heard in his life... and yet hardly noticing at all— pushing his dark shades up to rest over his head and get a better look at you.

you were unbelievably pretty to him.

dancing underneath the stadium hues, a series of moves that he didn’t expect at all from a cheerleading team as you shimmied in time to the music, the smile on your face so— brilliant and utterly impossible for him to miss even if he tried, you energetically changing formations when needed and following the pace of the group without so much as a trip or stumble.

and megumi thought then how utterly silly you were for ever thinking you wouldn’t be a good fit for the team, when it looked like you were right where you were supposed to be all this time.

you and your snug uniform that twinkled with every turn you made, the rustling of your frilly pompoms that followed each pump and rotation of your arms, the cheeky little beaming smile you sent his way once you fleetingly realized he was there... it was all supposed to happen.

him with you. watching you do what you loved.

he could stand there for hours so long as it was for you.

“megumi look it look it she's shaking her little hips!” satoru practically squealed, tossing a heavy arm over his shoulders to yank him into his side. “take a picture! quick! this is a moment in history oh my god i bet you’re feeling rabid right now and in beastly heat—”

“god please shut up.”

“what?!” satoru scoffed. “there is no shame in feeling a little freaky for your woman while she’s performing my son! accept your primal lovesick instinct—”

heat shot up megumi’s cheeks and he squirmed. “what the hell are you on about get off me—”

satoru fought through his writhing and brought him in even further, wringing his mouth uncomfortably close to his ear.

“i want three grandkids...” gojo whispered. “so get busy you little brat—”

megumi choked and shoved him away, his dad doubling over in a fit of snickers as he tipped his head back and laughed. “i'm kidding megs i'm kidding!”

“you’re disgusting man quit it—”

“i want five grandkids—”

“STOP!—”

throughout the game you mostly spent it on the sidelines closest to megumi, the corners of his lips quirked up into a small smile as he calmly watched you and your group do short dance routines each time the football team scored, you blowing him a fast cute kiss or a pretty grin any chance you could before you were pulled again to do another number, him sending you a little wave in return as he recorded you on his phone.

and to his surprise, halfway through the game you were given a shoutout while performing one of your many other routines, the massive jumbotron illuminated with a close up of you dancing in real time, your name in chunky pink cursive with the title of ‘sideline sweetheart’ as you smiled and gleamed, megumi’s chest fuzzy with a mix of surprise and pride at your achievement while the stadium announcer acknowledged you.

but what he also unmistakably noticed throughout your time on the field... was a certain football player who kept coming up to talk to you.

tall, lanky, with scruffy jet black hair and the darkest eyebags under his eyes that he’d ever seen on anyone.

at first he simply chose to brush it off, deeming it as you naturally being a social butterfly and you were just making friends... which is a good thing.

it's good.

but then he just— kept coming back up to you.

making you laugh. pulling you to the sideline refreshment station so he could keep talking to you. patting you on the shoulder.

since when were you friends with a football player?  

he thought that wasn't allowed...

megumi was disappointed in himself that something so simple and innocent as that, bothered him as much as it did, for you were absolutely more than allowed to make and have friends no matter what or who they were.

but the last time he told himself that, ino nearly kissed you in some random fucking hallway at a party.

the man was over it.

he knew how weird men could be when it came to getting what they wanted... and he knew how sweet and forgiving you were... and satoru’s endless annoying teasing about how you were already being targeted by another man wasn’t helping him in the freaking slightest.

though soon enough after what felt like forever, you switched off with a different group of girls and were finally given a break, megumi standing from his seat to walk up and lean over the metal railing the second he noticed you jogging up to him, resting his elbows on the ledge.

“hi guumiii!” you gushed excitedly from down below, him chuckling under his breath as he watched you happily wave at him.

“hi pretty baby.” he leaned over a little more. “i like your uniform.”

“yeah?” you grinned, taking a few steps back to cutely spin in place and show him, your white shiny cowboy boots on you and the way your tits looked so snug and puffed up in your top doing embarrassing numbers on him.  

“isn’t it so cute? i never thought i'd ever get to actually wear the real thing and not one my best friend and i tried to knock off the internet.”

megumi laughed and beckoned you closer with a nudge of his head, you listening and skipping up to him.

“can i give you something?” he pushed himself off a bit from the railing. “or should i wait until you’re dismissed?”

you tilted your head in confusion.

“n— no i can take it baby but what do you m—”

your entire body slumped as soon as you saw him reach behind and grab the biggest most prettiest bouquet of flowers ever, holding it out over the railing for you to take.

they were tulips.

“holy shit— gumi are you serious?” you asked in bashful astonishment, your cheeks quickly bubbling pink as you reached up and carefully took the bouquet from him, your awestruck eyes roaming over the lovely soft petals with a jutted bottom lip.

“thank you so much baby i—” you could barely even form a sentence from how much you were swooning over him and the beautiful tulips, your fingers gently grazing over the shiny baby pink wrapping as it gently glowed for you, head snapping up then to look at him.  

“you absolutely did not have to get me anything gumi i— i swear just you being here is more than enough for me...”

your sincere worried little eyes tugged at his heart strings as you spoke on, and he immediately shook his head side to side, your kind selfless mind never once allowing you to just accept everything he gave you without you anxiously fretting over it that he didn't have to, no matter how many times he touched bases about it with you.

because he absolutely did. and he blamed your bum fucking ex-boyfriend for putting that idea into your head.

“do you like them.” he murmured, and you frantically nodded.

“i love them!” a dazzling smile stretched across your lips, one he’d been waiting for since he bought them for you. “you’re always so sweet to me gumi... thank you.”

he nodded with a rising blush to his cheeks at your compliment, expressionless as he reached down and softly cupped underneath your chin, gently lifting your face to look at him.

“you work hard baby. and you deserve it.” his hand shook your head the tiniest bit in tender emphasis. “you shouldn’t keep forgetting something like that.”

you bit your bottom lip and smiled even bigger, unable to contain the string of giggles that escaped from your throat at his lovely praise, your ears guzzling down everything that he had to say as you clutched your tulips closer to your chest, the paper crunching underneath your grip as you did so.

your boyfriend never failed at making you feel so special... and you cherished it so incredibly much.

“why didn’t you tell me about you being sideline sweetheart.” he spoke up softly, the move of him letting your face go and settling his sunglasses back over his eyes causing your legs tremble. “s’good baby.”

the name was quite fitting for someone like you.

“no i know gumi! but i wanted to surprise youuu.” you grinned. “did it work? it was hard keeping my big mouth shut for weeks oh my...”

“mhm.” he gave you a warm tiny closed lipped smile. “you were very pretty from the jumbotron.”

your heart skipped a beat.

“you think so..?” you tilted your head to the side and peered up at him, him watching as your hair softly fell over the sides of your face in the process. “because i’ll have you know that i'm sweating in between my tits right now sir...”

he huffed out a low laugh, though the jump your words gave to his dick was pitifully concerning for him as this was the absolute worst time and place for him to get hard.

“cool down a little baby... are you able to come up here with me for a bit? i wanna get you something from the concession stand.”

you pouted at his kind offer, solemnly shaking your head no and wishing with everything you had that you could.  

“i so would gumi but i'm not allowed.” you reached up and tenderly took his hand in yours, thumb caressing over his skin. “i have to stay out on the field or else yumi and hina will bite my head off... but right when the game is over come find me in the locker rooms okay? it should be soon anyways our team is freaking losing—”

“y/nnnnn!” a loud cooing voice echoed in the air then, yuji and satoru leaping through the row with their arms yet again stuffed full of food and even more merchandise from your team, the sight making you burst out laughing with a shimmering fond gleam in your eyes, everyone else in the vip section staring in utter perplexity at the odd scene before them.

“oh my sweetheart!” satoru funnily sniffled, dropping all of his shit down on his seat before spinning back around. “my sideline sweetheart i should say! papa gojo is oh so very proud of you i cannot even begin to express how much i want to pay the entirety of your college tuition.”

you gasped. “satoru no! we've talked about this silly man thank you so much but i—”

“and why not?!” he threw his arms out in exasperated emphasis. “that shit’s like chum money to me and while your cutie patootie sweetness drops mr. megumi to his knees, i happen to have some self control now let me pay it—”

“do you?” megumi grumbled, his gaze distastefully roaming over the piles of random merchandise his dad just purchased and locking on a particular booklet, pointing.

“what is that.” he squinted his eyes and leaned over for a better look. “since when do you even read.”

“the cheer team’s calendar.”

megumi blinked.

“the fuck you need a calendar for?”

satoru smirked.

“i got that for you my emo son... y/n is featured on page eight and there’s a bikini section i saw in the table of contents—”

megumi's eyes blew out of their fucking sockets and he snatched the calendar from the messy pile, tucking it under his arm.

“gimme that.” he mumbled, diverting his gaze away.

“ehh? not so mad at me now are you hmm?” satoru dragged with wiggling brows, the whole ordeal throwing you into an endless fit of giggles that damn near made your stomach burst by how much it had started to ache, you carefully touching the corners of your eyes as you attempted to settle down, yet their bickering and your fucking face on satoru’s shirt was making it nearly impossible to.

“what? the calendar?” yuji spoke through a mouthful of popcorn, seemingly just tuning in before his eyes widened and his head snapped in your direction.

“ohymygod—” he swallowed. “my girl’s bikini feature? jesus christ y/n you have no idea how hard i tried not to cum in my pants back at the merch store—”

“HAAHH!—” you cackled, slapping a hand over your mouth as you doubled over in laughter again. “i can't— i can’t blame you yuji her boobies looked so nice in every picture didn’t they?!”

“every single fucking one.” he wildly grinned, walking up to the railing and leaning forward, his upper body extending so far out that you worried he’d accidentally tumble over. “how dare you not send me a leak i thought we were best friends for life.”

you giggled. “we are! but we wanted to keep everything a surprise until today.”

your eyes flickered back over to megumi, you nearly snorting at the sight of him subtly trying to look through the calendar before yuji spoke up again.

“hey uh... how much time do you have left on your break?” yuji asked, your attention diverting back to him.

“i still have about a good twenty minutes i think?” you kindly smiled. “how come?”

he pulled himself upright from the railing, his face weirdly pale now. “is— is it okay if i pull you to the side for a little bit? i wanted to talk to you about something.”

your brows pinched a little, concern swimming through your head at his strange request, since yuji never really asked to seriously talk to you about— well anything.  

the last time you remembered him doing this, was when he and your best friend gave you a talk about how much megumi was off limits back when you were first crushing on him... and even then it was with your girl friend. never alone.

you quickly nodded, anxiety starting to prickle at your skin as you nudged your head off to the side.

“yes of course! come we can talk inside the tunnel.”

he gave a stiff nod and started making his way out of the section to meet you, you briefly looking over your shoulder.

“i’ll be back gumi!” you called out, him lifting his head up from the calendar at your voice.

and just when you expected him to at least look a little puzzled and question where you were going with yuji... he didn’t. instead sending you off with a small smile and singular wave.

you pursed your lips, turning back around and proceeding to lead yuji over to the tunnel, deep in your thoughts until you reached your destination.

“you okay?” you asked softly, uneasy eyes studying over yuji’s sick appearance and tense body language as he leaned up against the wall, arms crossing over his chest.

“yeah! yeah i'm okay.” he weakly smiled, and you frowned.

“yuji what’s wrong.” you pressed a little firmer, stepping closer. “you look so scared i don’t think i've ever seen you like this.”

his breathing was unsteady as it flowed through his nostrils, him slowly shaking his head side to side— a close-lipped smile growing on his face as he looked directly at you.

“i’m gonna ask her to marry me.”

...

“what?”

holy shit.

a hand slapped over your mouth and you let out a breath of disbelief, your eyes already blurring over as you tried your hardest to blink and clear your vision.

holy fucking shit—

“yuji are you serious..?” you whispered, a muffled hiccup escaping you, the fat tears you attempted to keep at bay rolling over your cheeks regardless. “please tell me you’re serious—”

“i am!” he chuckled boyishly, pushing himself off the wall then to wrap you in a warm hug. “don’t cry y/n...”

“s— sorry i’m so— hic!— i'm sorry—”

you couldn't even talk, your strained trembling whispers making yuji’s chest ache as he pouted and plopped his chin over the top of your head, laughing softly and rubbing a comforting hand up and down your back.

“i’ve been planning it for a few months now.” he gently explained. “i have the ring and everything... i wanna do it after the world series game.”

you sobbed even harder.

that was next week.

“i love her a whole lot... you know better than anybody else that i do. i actually wanted to marry her the night we met but that's not very socially acceptable is it?”

through yuji’s chuckling you pulled back, laughing yourself as you tried your best to wipe your tears away, sniffling and looking up at him with a wobbling smile.

“apparently.” you sniffed, mumbling lowly. “would’ve been fine with me.”

and he grinned, planting a hand on your head and giving it a little rub.

“i don’t doubt it.” he murmured. “i owe her giving me a chance in the first place to you... and i know more than anyone else how much she absolutely cares about you and adores you as her best friend.”

he let his arm fall back over his side.

“so thank you for letting me have her.”

a new flood of tears washed over you then and you sobbed, yuji laughing out loud at your reaction and wrapping you up again in an embrace, this time tighter, swaying you side to side as he stood there not saying anything else, knowing that news like this was something extremely pivotal and dealt best with a comforting silence that allowed you to ride the wave and process.

“i’ve been— i've been dreaming and wishing f—for you guys to get married for so loongg!” you wailed, your cries muffled into his chest.

nearly five fucking years you had spent wishing on stars for it, because you knew more than anyone else just how much your best friend and yuji unconditionally loved one another.

from the moment they met under the neon rays of that random party with yuji adorably stumbling over his words, to spontaneously making it official without brake checking first simply because the feeling of it was so right for them… it was so agonizingly obvious to you that they were meant to find each other, to fall in love, to be happy together, to grow old together. and your best friend deserved every bit of that blissful life with someone who treasured her just as deeply as you did.

“if we win or lose the world series i really don’t give a fuck.” he spoke up. “because regardless i'm gonna get down on one knee and ask her. that's all i care about.”

you nodded against him and pulled away, shakily wiping away the last of your tears.

“i’ll help out if you need it okay?” you emphasized. “whatever it is if— if you need me to get her to a specific spot or— kidnap her or anything i will do it no fucks given.”

his shoulders dropped in relief. “thank god because i was running into a pickle with megumi about the planning and he just kept abusing me.”

your jaw hung and you giggled.

“no he didn’t!—”

“did you tell her already.”

your eyes quickly diverted to the familiar lovely sound of your boyfriend’s voice, and somehow the sight of him standing there at the tunnel entrance made you fucking sob all over again.

“oh guummiii!” you dramatically wailed, flinging yourself on him and wrapping your arms around his neck, him quick to catch you and bring you in tight with a chuckle.  

“you— you knew?!”

he softly smiled down at you.

“i did.” he murmured, letting the side of his warm cheek fall against yours. “n’gojo knows too.”

you hiccupped and cried and whined into his arms then, the abundance of pure love and bittersweetness hitting you in all unfathomable types of degrees as your brain struggled to accept that this was real, that your best friend was in fact soon to be a bride in the next coming week and your lives would be permanently altered.

but for the way better.

PART TWO

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

@softbun0 @the-lazyyy-artist @cheeyah @ag-zio @luvvmae @blue-musingss @as1yasss @oporotheca @aqkermxan @cookey-lock @startwithrecords @mayacheiko @ackermanrage @pocoom @nervousshinnie @beekaboi @akira-chan24 @vickylovesochako @iloveoldermenn @lovleyredheadedfairy @uhnosav @jvpit3rr @monchxriella @slr3v @kissesazula @hqnge @pizzaspac3r @capsule-losing-contact @featheryvee @allurearia @haokanie @thotfullythotless @wwwbriworld @zequil @aksqui @dee-writes-anime @floruilaa @loveleesmsm @skittleluverr @qwicksilver @getosangels @childesblanket @ahemee @sanerven @almostdelightfuldragon @assortedcookie @spidergirlnr1 @etsuniiru @naammiii @evelynxxo @hiithess @sophiejiro @jjktsworld @l1v1ngzomb1e

[maiamore]

STRANGER

Clark seems different.

cw: 18+, smut, red kryptonite!clark kent, dark!clark kent, dub con, he uses his laser beam, coercion, m!receiving oral, chemically altered behaviour, conflict between clark & reader, rough oral (1.1k wc)

Red Kryptonite — Removes inhibition from Kryptonians.

You were upset with him.

Upset to the point that you hadn't rushed over — or even turned to unlock the balcony door when you heard the familiar rap on the glass. Except this time, the sharp crack of the lock being forced open draws your attention.

Clark steps inside without invitation. Dress shoes dragging on the floors, no tie, no glasses. His hair freshly messy from the wind.

"What are you doing here?" You were first to break the silence, arms folded, "I told you not to come back unless you'd —"

"Didn't come here to talk." He doesn't let you finish, as though he'd already decided what you had to say didn't matter.

The usual softness in his gaze was gone, replaced with a much more detached front. You frowned. Taking a tentative step closer. That's when you see it, when the light of passing cars grazes his face — a flicker of red in his eyes. It made your pulse jump.

His mouth was already on yours, your unsaid words muffled against his lips. He kisses you with a deliberately gentle intensity, gauging just how much of willing participant you would be in this. Your forearms wedges between you two, forcing him away from you.

You looked up at him, searching in bated breaths. "You can't just try to kiss me and —" firmer this time, "you need to leave." Your tone was final, and you step away to retreat back to your room.

The wall, inches away from you sizzled with a beam of scarlet right before your eyes. You'd flinched, damn near stumbling back into the couch, whipping your head to see the blistering paint left in its' wake.

Clark had never aimed it at you. Not his powers, nor his anger.

You stare at him, chest rising and dipping deeply. It's clearer than ever now that your eyes weren't playing tricks on you. There was a flicker of red in his eyes that lingered.

Red veins on his hand pulsed faintly from within, and when he shifted, the gleam of a crimson signet ring reflects in your lamp's glow.

"Clark, are you…okay?"

He ignores your concern, closing the distance. Clark's palm dwarfed your jaw with a firm hold, kissing you much harder this time. There wasn't patience in this, just taking what he'd wanted from you. His hands curled around your hips, pulling you flush against him with strength that bruised, as he drags his lips down to the curve of your neck.

The heat of him was dizzying, but the inkling of something being wrong ate at you. "No — " you mutter, turning your head away when he attempts to kiss you again. "Not like this. Not when…you're acting all weird."

Clark laughs into the sensitive skin of your neck, the sound humourless. "Weird?" His hold on you forces you to walk backwards until they hit the back of the couch. "You've been stubborn all day. Pushing me away. Ignoring my calls, texts. Do you…have any idea how much you're upsetting me?"

You swallow hard, feeling the guilt in his measured words. Intended and curated to pry and gnaw at your reasonable decision.

"I needed you." He pushes, thumb skirting on your bottom lip, coaxing. His touch crumbles your already faltering resolve.

Your lips part instinctively, and he takes his chance. Pressing his digit down onto your tongue, teasing — making you lick the length of it, soft pink grazing over the signet ring that loosens and clatters to the hardwood floors.

You drool around his finger when he adds another into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks enough to suck on them.

Clark is already unbuckling himself, pumping himself in harsh, dry strokes. He looks to you intently, pulling his fingers out with a string of wetness, smearing over your lips.

"You'll take care of me now, won't you?"

Your breath hastens, offering him a slow nod as he guides you down to your knees with a heavy palms to the top of your head.

He hisses the second you drag your tongue up his length, kitten licking his tip. It earns a rough tangle of his fingers through your hair, forcing you to meet his gaze.

You lock eyes with him, other hand stroking at his cock while you mouth at the base. Clark's jaw tenses, angling his cock to rub on your cheek and eyes, the sight of you at his mercy filling him with unadulterated lust.

He doesn't give you a warning when he's pushing the thick mushroom head onto your tongue, pulling it out and rubbing it onto your cheeks. "Look so…goddamn pretty like this." He offers in a breath before sinking his cock into your waiting mouth.

Clark's head tips back with a groan when your tongue curls around his cock, taking him deeper, bobbing up and down. He holds your face with both palms, rocking himself unapologetically into your mouth. You're sputtering around him, hot tears prickling your eyes at the pace he sets.

The sight of of your plush lips wrapped around his girth is too much for him and you wince when his grip on you tightens, his hips snapping deeper until your nose rubs onto the coarse hair over his pubic area.

"T-Too…good…" He grits, fucking your face a little harder.

You're whining, holding onto his thighs when you begin to feel light-headed. Watching him lose himself entirely. It gives you a twisted pleasure knowing you were rendering him desperate, humping your throat with abandon.

It was different. His roughness. It was making you wet.

Clark yanks your head away from his cock suddenly, you're dazed, blinking up at him with heavy pants. He strokes his cock, once, and you feel his thick cum spurt onto your nose and cheeks.

A slight yelp escapes you, and he drags the pearlescent liquid with the tip of his cock downward. You swallow the stringy stickiness as he fucks it back in slow pulses, giving you every last drop of him.

Clark tugs you up by your armpits, licking over your lips and kissing you with the same gentleness, nudging his head to the side to roll your tongue with his. You'd barely managed to catch your breath, but you're relaxing in his hold, gripping around his shoulder and letting him manouver the two of you on the couch.

What the two of you don't notice was how that signet ring from earlier lay discarded a couple feet away. The crimson glow of it when it was on Clark now reduced to cloudy glass.

And whatever strange pulse that throbbed through Clark's veins? Now gone, with the red fading from beneath his skin.

It was probably going to take a while for him to realise that the recording device Bruce Wayne loaned to him, wasn't clever tech, but made with Red Meteor rock that neither of them realised the repercussions of.

[pinksugarbebe]

YOU'RE NOT INFERIOR stop acting like u are

When I first joined the shifting community on tiktok people used to comment all the time how "lucky" someone was for shifting and how they would idolize a person for something that anyone can do. Seeing those kind of comments really affected me because I felt like it was just certain people who were able to shift which again its not true at all. People on Tumblr aren't special. Im not special. Stop idolizing shifters on this app, they're just random people on the internet who one day something just clicked for them.

Shifting is a universal thing that any human can experience. So why are some of you acting like the victim when you've been more than blessed with the knowledge of shifting. Stop having your "why not me" moment and start believing in yourself more. Why you think theres been stories of literal CHILDREN shifting!? because shifting is a natural process. The reason why some people think they need methods to shift or put any effort at all is because we've been conditioned to think so. Stop comparing yourself to others on this app, what is someone journey is obviously not going to look the same as yours. Doesn't matter if someone shifted on their first attempt, they're not better than you stop thinking they are or treating them like they are.

YOU HAVE EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO SHIFT. You don't need to wait for the full moon or some 20 step method. It's completely NORMAL to cry or be mad but DONT STAY in that negative state, youre just making things miserable for yourself. Take breaks, don't be afraid to delete apps. You’re not missing out on anything i promise. Scrolling on Tumblr is only going to make you overconsume information that you ALREADY KNOW making you more frustrated in the end. Just persist and trust your power. You are way more powerful than you give yourself credit for.

You know about shifting and manifesting you already won.

[mochashifting]

i like to think of shiftblr (or any shifting community really) as an airport, a place where we all hang out before everyone goes somewhere. some shifters go home, some go on vacation, some just go visiting a friend, but everyone’s getting on a flight and is in the airport for a purpose.

so just get on ur flight and stop hanging out at the airport twin!

[rafeownsmyspine]

title: mud on my boots, blood on your jacket

PAIRING: rafe cameron x f!reader (slow burn)

GENRE: angst, tension, toxic attachment, slow emotional unraveling

WARNINGS: Mentions of violence (post-fight), blood, heavy breathing/proximity, possessive behavior, toxic mindset, manipulation, internal crisis.

SUMMARY: Following the bombshell confession at the stables, the air between you and Rafe turns lethal. As you confront him about the blood on his hands, the line between "protection" and "obsession" blurs. Rafe pushes for a confession you aren't ready to give, leaving you reeling as you realize just how far he’s willing to go to keep you "his."

CHAPTER 4: “the blood on your knuckles looks like jewelry”

The silence that followed your words wasn't empty; it was heavy, vibrating with the ghost of what you’d just admitted. You ruin every other boy for me.

The words felt like they were still hanging in the humid night air, glowing like the embers in a dying fire. You wanted to reach out and grab them, shove them back into your throat, and lock them away. But Rafe wouldn't let you.

He didn't move. He didn't even seem to breathe. The flickering porch light caught the hard line of his jaw, casting shadows that made him look less like the boy who used to copy your math homework and more like a predator who had finally cornered his prize.

"Say that again," he rasped. It wasn't a request. It was a demand, his voice cracking with a desperate kind of hunger.

"No," you breathed, your heart hammering a frantic, uneven rhythm against your ribs. You felt exposed, like the mud on your boots was suddenly a spotlight. "I shouldn't have said it. I’m tired, Rafe. I’m talking nonsense."

You tried to step past him, intending to bolt into the house and lock the door until your brain stopped spinning, but Rafe’s hand shot out. He didn't grab you hard—he never did—but his fingers brushed the crook of your elbow. The contact was electric, a searing heat that traveled straight to your chest. You stopped. You always stopped for him, like a moth drawn to a beautiful, dangerous light.

"Look at me, Muddy."

You forced your eyes up. His were blown wide, the pupils swallowing the blue until they were almost entirely black. He looked wrecked—terrified and triumphant all at once. Then, your gaze drifted down to his hands again. The split knuckles were still oozing a dark, sluggish red.

Without thinking, your Pogue instincts took over. You reached out, catching his wrist with your steady, dirt-stained fingers. His skin was buzzing, hot to the touch, alive with the leftover adrenaline of the fight he’d just finished on your behalf.

"You're a mess, Rafe," you whispered, your thumb tentatively brushing the edge of a fresh bruise on his thumb. "You're a literal disaster. You can't just go around breaking people because they asked me to a movie. That’s not... it’s not normal."

"I didn't break him," Rafe muttered, though he didn't pull away from your touch. If anything, he leaned into it, his wrist turning so his palm could graze yours. "I just gave him a reason to stay on Figure Eight. He didn't belong on the Cut. He didn't belong near you."

He stepped closer, invading your personal space until the tips of his boots pressed against yours. He was so tall you had to crane your neck, the scent of salt air, expensive cologne, and the metallic tang of blood filling your senses. He leaned down, his forehead almost touching yours, his breath ghosting over your lips.

"And I'm not sorry," he whispered, his voice jagged. "I'd do it again. I’d burn this whole island down if I thought it would keep guys like that from looking at you like you’re something they can just have."

The "delusional" warning in your head was screaming, but your heart was louder. You should have been terrified. You should have called Kiara or told him to get therapy. But looking at the blood on his hands—blood shed because he couldn't stand the thought of you with someone else—a sick, traitorous part of you felt a thrill. Nobody had ever fought this dirty for you.

"You're crazy," you choked out, your grip on his wrist tightening.

"Maybe," he murmured, his gaze dropping to your mouth, lingering there with such intensity you felt your knees weaken. "But I'm your crazy. Tell me I'm not. Tell me you want me to leave and never come back. Say it, and I’ll go."

It was a trap. You both knew it. You couldn't say it. Your mouth felt like it was full of cotton, your brain rebooting over and over as his thumb began to trace the line of your jaw, dragging a smear of his own blood onto your skin like a mark of ownership.

"I can't," you whispered, so quiet it was almost a prayer.

Rafe let out a breath that sounded like a sob, his eyes closing for a brief second as he pressed his forehead against yours. For a moment, the Kook prince and the Pogue girl were just two broken pieces fitting together in the dark.

A car honked in the distance, somewhere out on the main road, breaking the suffocating spell. You flinched, pulling your hand back as reality crashed down. Rafe Cameron had just committed assault. And you had just basically admitted you were addicted to his chaos.

"Go home, Rafe," you said, your voice shaking. "Clean your hands. Before your dad sees. Before anyone sees."

He smirked, that sharp, jagged thing that made him look like a shark. He backed away slowly toward his truck, never taking his eyes off you. "Too late, Muddy. You already saw. That's all that matters to me."

As he climbed into the driver's seat and cranked the engine, the lyrics of the song playing from his speakers drifted over the gravel, sealing the moment in your mind forever.

You watched the red tail lights disappear into the trees, your hand rising to touch the spot on your jaw where his blood had stained your skin. You were in so much trouble.

You stood there, frozen on the porch, feeling like the foundation of your entire life had just shifted three inches to the left.

You took a shaky breath, the cool night air hitting your lungs, but it didn't help. Your brain was a frantic mess of memories. This was Rafe. The same Rafe who used to share his fruit snacks with you in third grade. The same Rafe who helped you fix your bike and let you copy his homework. Your person.

And he had just looked at you like he wanted to dismantle the entire world just to see you smile.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up," you whispered to the empty yard, pressing your palms into your eyes.

You were a Pogue. You were the "smart" one. You were supposed to know that the boundary between you and Rafe was the only thing keeping your life from imploding. He was a Kook, sure, but he was your Kook. He was the constant. The one person you didn't have to pretend with.

you remembered the way he had stepped into your space. Not as a protector, but as something... more. Something darker. You’d spent years being the one person who could calm his temper, the one person who stayed when everyone else left. Now, it felt like he was using that bond to tie you to him so tightly you couldn't breathe.

And you let him, a treacherous voice in your head hissed. You liked the way he claimed you. You’re just as bad as he is.

"I'm not," you argued with yourself, tripping over a loose floorboard in the dark. "I just... I care about him. He’s my best friend. Of course I care."

You caught your reflection in the small, cracked mirror by the door. You looked like a disaster—hair wild, boots caked in the mud he always teased you about, and that tiny, terrifying smear of red on your jaw.

He marked you, you thought, a shiver racing down your spine. He took ten years of friendship and threw it into the fire tonight. He’s not just the guy who carries your books anymore. He’s the guy who wants to own the air in your lungs.

You thought about the boy who was supposed to pick you up. He was a "nice guy." He was safe. But Rafe? Rafe was a storm. And you had been standing in the center of that storm for years, thinking you were dry.

"God, Rafe, why do you have to make everything so hard?" you muttered, leaning your forehead against the cool glass.

You weren't just the Pogue girl with the smart mouth anymore. You were the anchor for a boy who was drifting further and further away from reality, and for the first time in your life, you weren't sure if you wanted to pull him back to shore or let him drag you out to sea with him.

A/N: IMM SORRY I HAVENT BEEN WRITINGGG

[morguesiren]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ PAIRING ♥︎ ceo!rafe x housewife!reader

⊹ ࣪ ˖ SUMMARY ♥︎ you celebrate christmas with rafe's family, planning on revealing your pregnancy to them, but family events are not the cameron family's strong suit, but rafe still manages to make your christmas special.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ TAGS ♥︎ fluff! ꒰ 𝟐𝐤 ꒱

⊹ ࣪ ˖ AUTHOR'S NOTE ♥︎ merry christmas to those who celebrate. my christmas presents didn’t arrive in time but i’m gonna be getting a lot of belated book presents. happy early new year!! <3

HOUSEWIFE જ⁀➴ ♥︎ RAFE CAMERON ⊹ ࣪ ˖

in-laws.

you either love them, or they're the bane of your existence. when it came to rafe's family; it was the latter. rafe's stepmother had always looked down on you for being born into a family she deemed unworthy, and you'd never really known how to act around rafe's father, knowing only little of the tumultuous relationship between your husband and father-in-law.

when you were a child, you never really got to celebrate christmas traditionally. your parents almost always working during the holidays in order to get paid double while having your grandmother watch you. you could still remember your mother bringing home a huge amount of food back from the diner she worked at when she got from work, and you gathered in front of a fireplace with your parents and three mugs of hot chocolate, the two watching with wide smiles as you opened the few presents you got. you stayed up as long as you could, watching christmas movies you'd seen a hundred times already, just because you knew your parents had to go back to work again on christmas morning.

handling last year's christmas dinner had been stressful enough, only for it to abruptly end in a shouting match between rafe and his father, but this year, you were expecting your first child with rafe, a fact his family was still unaware of.

this year however, you welcomed the distraction that came in the form of cleaning and decorating your house, preparing food and treats, putting out gifts… anything so that you wouldn't have to think about your husband's family's visit, or more specifically, telling them your news.

but it seemed you ran out of chores too soon, and a few hours before they were bound to arrive, you were in the shower, hoping it'd relieve your stress, feeling the steaming water on your face.

you felt a slight breeze of cool air hit your skin, goosebumps forming on your arm, the glass shower door closing with a small thud. a larger body enveloped you, a muscular pair of arms wrapping themselves around you. leaning into your husband's body, you looked up to find him already gazing down at you, rafe's left hand splayed on the beginning of a bump.

"you've been working yourself too much." rafe mumbled, leaning down to press a kiss on the crook of your neck, lips trailing towards her shoulder. "i'm nervous about your folks. it helps keep my mind off things."

"we didn't have to invite them over." rafe strokes your stomach, mumbling the words into your shoulder as you turn around in his arms, looking up at him, "i know. but we're gonna have to tell them about the baby eventually and what better time than… an already tiring, stressful holiday."

you were in a baby pink loose-fitting sweater dress, the kitchen radio turned on, humming along to it so that you could tune out the noise coming from the living room, more specifically rafe and his father bickering over business.

"you need any help?" a soft voice came from the doorway, and you turned to look at sarah, rafe's sister, "sure. do you mind cutting up some cheeses? i'm not really good at all that." you chuckled softly, sarah nodding, taking a few cheeses out of the fridge, starting to cut small pieces onto a wooden board, speaking up after a few minutes, "so, how are things with you and rafe?"

"are you snooping?" you chuckled softly, smiling as you peeled potatoes "things are going well. rafe's not working as late as he used, so i don't have to worry about him driving in the dark. he's been doing pretty great, lately."

"hmm. do you think it's because of the baby?"

your eyes widened and the potato you were peeling dropped onto the cutting board as you looked up to sarah, "how did you… did rafe tell you?"

"no." the woman laughed, walking over to the refrigerator, a manicured finger pointing to a note that read 'ULTRASOUND 12/29 01:30' "this, combined with rafe being happier than usual and trying his best not to argue with our dad, and you wearing that… kind of put it all together."

you let out a soft chuckle, picking the potato back up, your cheeks feeling warm, "yeah. we're having a baby. we're planning on telling everyone at dinner, so when we do, please act surprised."

sarah feigned a surprised gasp, bringing her hand to her mouth dramatically, "a baby? this is such big news." she spoke, making you laugh.

when the rest of the food was prepared, sarah helped you bring all the dishes to the table, rafe's family starting to pile into the kitchen. rafe pulled back a chair next to where you were going to sit down, pressing a kiss on the side of your head, and you could just about hear him mumble the words 'you okay?'

you nodded, squeezing your husband's arm and sitting down beside him. without another word, rafe placed his hand on your thigh, drawing soothing patterns over your tights. for a while, everything seemed to be going well, and everyone was being cordial.

but you knew better than to expect it to last.

"so, rafe." your husband's father spoke, getting his attention, "i've been hearing somethin' about you leaving work early, coming in late... apparently you even refused to go on some trip a few weeks ago that nearly cost us half a million. what's that about?"

rafe cleared his throat, drinking some of his water before facing ward with a tight-lipped smile, "well, i've been trying to have a better work-life balance."

"that's not how it works, though." ward let out a chuckle, "work should be your life. you can't just leave it at the door. i thought you understood that, and that's why i left you in charge."

"i've solved any and every problem i've had so far, and i've done my job as i should've. but if you have problems with my performance, you can come by the office sometime during working hours and we can assess them."

"oh, i have no problem with them. just trying to remind you that my company didn't get to where it is by me being lazy."

rafe's hand on your thigh squeezed tighter, and as you looked to your husband, his jaw clenching, his eyes on his plate. when you brought your hand over his on your thigh, stroking the back of it with your thumb, you saw your husband unclench his jaw, the man's chest rising and falling with the force of a deep breath.

"i get that. and i'm always available through phone call, and i do some of my work from home, so i'm not being lazy and none of my work is delayed, but i'm also allowed to have a life outside of the company."

"your work should come first."

"maybe if you didn't have that mindset, your kids would talk to you more often."

ward's glass of whiskey landed on the table with a silencing thud at rafe's words, the look of anger he'd passed down to his son taking over his features, "excuse me?"

"fuck it, guess this is as good as time as any…" rafe mumbled, drinking a gulp of whiskey, "we're having a baby. that's why i've been working less. and i'm probably gonna continue working less when we have our baby, because i actually wanna be in my kids' lives instead of having a bunch of nannies raise them because 'work should always come first'. i don't want my kids to grow up and not want to visit me 'cause they know it's gonna end in an argument."

the rest of the dinner went by in silence, and the sound of utensils. shortly after, rafe's father decided it was time for them to leave, sarah and wheezie congratulating you both on your baby before following their father out the door.

once the door closed behind them, you turned around, pressing your forehead against rafe's, his arms snaking around you, pulling you close.

"that ended just about how i expected it to." you chuckled softly, and you could see rafe's lips twitch the tiniest bit. you brought your hand to his cheek, stroking the skin there, "i'm sorry it didn't go how you wanted it to."

"it's alright." rafe pulled back, pushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear, "should we go see your parents now?" you took in a deep breath, nodding.

"i'm sorry i haven't come by lately."

you gazed down at the two headstones that read your parents' names, along with your maiden name, grave candles and identical bouquets of flowers now resting on each of their graves.

"we're having a baby." you let out a hoarse chuckle, tears pricking your eyes, "finally. i'm excited, and i'm also really nervous. i just wanna do as good a job with my baby as you did with me."

"we never really got to have the kind of christmas most families have. but i remember being so happy every year. and now that i've gotten to experience a somewhat-normal christmas a few times," you looked to rafe with a soft chuckle, "i definitely prefer our christmas. no offence."

rafe brought your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it, before turning to your parents' graves, "i promise to take care of your grandchild, just like i've taken care of your daughter. they mean everything to me." you sniffled at rafe's words, leaning your head onto his shoulder, your husband wrapping his arm around you.

the drive back to your home was spent in comfortable silence, and when rafe pulled up in front of the house, you were about to exit the car, only for rafe to grab your arm, making you look at him with furrowed brows.

"wait here for a few minutes. i have something i gotta do." "what is this?" you laughed softly, raising your brows, "you'll see."

so as rafe rushed inside, you sat in the car for about ten minutes, until you saw the front door open, rafe standing there, nodding his head. you laughed softly, getting out of the car, making your way to the door rafe was holding open for you.

when you stepped inside, you saw that all the lights were turned off, and the hall was filled with small candles, leading towards the living room.

you followed the trail of candles that stopped at the fire blazing in your fireplace, two mugs of hot chocolate, and a cherry pie with two forks placed in front of it, a blanket set down on the floor. "what's this?" you turned to rafe, your brows furrowed.

"i know how much you loved christmas with your family, and i wanted you to get to have that again." rafe helped you sit down on the blanket, settling down next to you, "arguing was a huge part of my family holidays. but i don't want it to be a part of our holidays, our family's holidays."

you smiled, taking rafe's hand in yours, "you did all this?" "well, most of it. not the pie. try it." the man chuckled, taking one of the forks and cutting off a small piece with the side of the fork, bringing it to your lips.

when you tasted the pie, your eyes widened in surprise, still chewing, you spoke, "this tastes just like..."

"it's the same pie." rafe grinned. "what?" you swallowed, "it can't be. that place was closed down years ago." "i remember you telling me how much you loved it. so, i tracked down the owner of the diner, and after hours of deliberating and mild bribery, i got him to reveal who always made these pies. i contacted her, and when i explained my situation... she told me she'd bake one and all i had to do was pick it up."

"...you did all that?" you laughed softly, shaking your head, "you're officially the most insane man i know." "i think a better word for it is devoted and romantic."

"nuh-huh. insane." you shook your head and grinned, yet you still brought your lips to his, trying to convey the way you felt, bringing his hand to your heart.

you pulled away from the kiss, keeping your foreheads connected, "i love you, rafe."

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